#and just got round to rendering it now

[angelkissedface]

did y'all see scaramouche in the 4.8 livestream omg

[rowarn]

SURPRISE, SURPRISE !

john "soap" mactavish / reader – 9.3k sale of a lifetime mini series !

tags: smut, developing relationship, virginity for sale trope, protective!soap, virgin!reader, afab!reader, no prns for reader, mean!soap? or maybe just intense!soap, soap is NOT beginner-friendly

cw: loss of virginity, soap's filthy mouth, fingering, multiple orgasms, wet&messy, sloppy blowjob, cum facial, squirting, crying during sex?/dacryphilia, consent check bc johnny is a GOOD MAN, intense heated sex to sex with feelings, cunnilingus, corruption kink if u squint, multiple rounds, sloppy sex tbh

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It’s not like it’s hard to find someone to sell your virginity to, men come out of the woodwork offering you the money. It’s no problem at all to set up a little meeting and get to know them before you’re whisked away to a bedroom.

At least, that’s how it should be. 

The problem was there seemingly was always something that got in the way. Or rather…someone.

Soap, in fact. 

or.

After continuously getting in the way of your attempts to sell your virginity, you finally let yourself fall into bed with him instead.

You couldn’t believe you wound up here. You always thought it would happen in some sweet way. A long-time boyfriend or girlfriend, happy and in love. You’d snuggle up afterwards and be told how good you were.

But no, instead you became swamped in debt and ended up on the verge of eviction even though you were living in the cheapest apartment you could find that wasn’t in an area that would get you stabbed for stepping outside. You needed money fast and you had one thing that plenty of perverts would pay for; your virginity. It’s not your most crowning moment in life but as they say, you gotta do what you gotta do. 

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself so you don’t crumble under the shame of it all. 

When the chair across from you suddenly gets yanked out, feet scraping obnoxiously across the floor, making you nearly jump out of your skin. The man who sits down looks nothing like the picture he sent and you internally groan. He looks much older than you, no doubt in his mid 40’s, balding, and graying hair. You wouldn’t mind an older man if he were a little more…attractive. Sure, maybe that’s a bit shallow of you but fuck, it’s your virginity you’re giving away. You should be allowed to be picky with the man you choose! Under normal circumstances you would be so why not now?

Then again, this isn’t exactly normal circumstances was it?

You pick up the glass of the strongest drink you could handle that you ordered at the bar while waiting and downed it in one deep gulp. You gave the man a very fake smile and he grinned back, the sleazy sight making your stomach turn. 

You were going to need a lot more alcohol. 

The evening turned into night and you’re feeling the effects of the alcohol. Your ‘date’ doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest as you drink, if anything he seems elated. That thought makes you curl your lip in disgust. 

“So,” he starts when you finally lean back in your chair, having had your fill of alcohol for the night, “Shall we move this along? My place or yours?”

“You got the money you promised?” you ask, raising a brow, unsure if you sounded as drunk to him as you did to yourself.

“In my car,” he responds, grin sitting irritatingly lopsided on his ugly face, “Got it all ready for you. After services are rendered, of course.”

Anxiety coils in your stomach at the mention of what you have to do to get the money. It’s a lot of money and that makes your palms sweaty – you need it. You feel like there’s eyes on you from behind, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. When you turn to look around, there’s no one paying any attention to you. Everyone in the bar was having a nice time. You wish you were one of them. 

“Let’s get out here,” the man grins, “I am just achin’ to get my hands on you.”

He stands up but you find yourself rooted to your seat. Your entire body feels tense, you can’t find it in yourself to stand up. You don’t want to go with the guy, you decide. Your fight or flight activates with terrifying speed, alerting you of the danger you’re in. Though you’re not exactly sure what danger that is just yet.

“I think…” you start and the guy heaves a big sigh.

“Don’t tell me you’re backin’ out?” he grumbles, not bothering to mask his irritation, “After I came all this way? That’s awfully rude of you.”

“I just don’t think I want to–” he groans, embarrassingly loud.

You feel the eyes of nearby patrons on you and your cheeks burn under the scrutiny. Shame bubbles up inside you at the thought of them finding out what exactly was going on between the two of you. 

“Let’s go,” he snaps, his anger bubbling to the surface as he rounds the table and grabs hold of your arm.

You don’t bother fighting back as he yanks you to your feet, instead leveling him with a fierce glare. You don’t want to make a scene in front of all these people so you plan to let him drag out outside where you can really give him a piece of your mind before hopefully coming back inside and peacefully getting drunk alone.

But a sudden, growling voice has both of you freezing in place, “I don’t think you’re goin’ anywhere.”

Your eyes fall upon a man, standing tall and confidently. He has a mohawk, brilliant blue eyes and handsome features. Upon first glance, you could immediately tell he was in the military based on his posture alone. He was intimidating, broad and well-built.

“Hey, dude, why don't you mind your own fuckin’ business,” your ‘date’ snarled, yanking you harshly towards him.

You felt your eye twitch in irritation but your drunken brain was too slow to react properly. You were still hung up on the appearance of this rather good looking man. 

“This is my business,” the stranger said, Scottish accent thick as he took two big strides over to the both of you, “Why don't you just leave quietly so things don't have to get ugly?” 

Your ‘date’ stares the strange man down for a few seconds, taking a glance at you before kissing his teeth and ripping his hand off of you. 

“You ain't worth this shit,” he huffed, stomping off into the crowd. You could hear the bell over the door ring, announcing his final departure from the scene.

“Well, he was just a dandy fellow,” your rescuer jokes, a crooked grin settling on his face. His shoulders relaxed and he held his hand out, “Name’s Soap. How about I walk you home?” 

“That'd be great,” you responded, feeling your stomach starting to roll as the alcohol settled. You knew you were going to be stuck with your head over the toilet bowl soon and you'd rather be in the comfort of your apartment for that. 

“Let’s get a move on then,” he waved forward for you to lead the way. 

The crisp outside air had you sighing happily. You hadn't realized how hot you were in there but now that the light breeze brushed against your skin, you noticed how you had begun to sweat. 

“So you’re military, huh?” you ask, leading him in the direction of your apartments “Soap.” 

He chuckles, “You caught me.” 

You smile, “It's kind of hard to miss, no offense.” 

“None taken,” he assures, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, “What were you doin’ with a piece of shite like that? Was he your boyfriend?” 

You sputter, “No! Nothing like that. I just…had a deal with him, that's all. I called it off and he got pissed. I'm sorta pissed at myself. Just missed out on a fuck ton of money.” 

Soap’s brows raise, “What kind of deal?” 

Your drunken brain forgets all about the fact such a deal should be kept quiet. Your mouth opens before you can stop yourself, “My virginity for his money. But I’m not like a prostitute or anything!” 

He holds his hands up as surrender when you get defensive at the shocked look on his face, “You need money that bad?”

“You have no idea,” you sign, pinching the bridge of your nose at the mere thought of your money troubles, “I never do this. You know? I-I mean obviously…with the virginity and all. But-!”

“I’m not judgin’ you,” he assures, “Hard times. But you should be careful. Lot’s of dangerous characters out there.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders as you come to a stop, “This is my place.”

“Right,” he mutters, “Let me give you my number.”

“For what?” you sputter, watching him pull out his wallet.

“Just in case,” he smiles, “I doubt anyone really knows what you’re dealin’ with right? I do. So if you’re ever in any trouble,” he hands you a business card, “Give me a call.”

You take the card and look it over. It’s got his name and military rank but not much else. You raise a brow, “Why do you have a business card on you?”

He chuckles, waving his hand flippantly, “Just ‘cause. I’ll see you around, darlin’.”

“Yeah,” you smile, stowing the card away in your pocket, “Thanks for walking me home, Soap.”

He stands outside of your place, waiting until you’re safely inside and shutting the door. When you peek out the window, you see him walking off in the direction that you had come from. You smile and go about getting ready for bed, grateful that you’re not feeling that awful nauseous pit in your stomach you had earlier.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re still dressed in your clothes and you have no recollection of having laid down the night before. You groan, your head throbbing in your skull as you sit up. 

You stumble your way to the bathroom, grimacing at the sight of yourself in the mirror. You take the time to start the shower and strip yourself, determined to scrub the grime from last night off of your body. 

By the time you step out, you’re feeling like a brand new person. You stretch your arms over your head and work on drying yourself off. Wrapping your towel around your body, gather your clothes in your arms, and trudge back into your bedroom. 

You look through the pockets of your jeans from yesterday, pulling out various coins and candy wrappers that you remember snacking on in the car to ease your nerves. You finally pull out the last thing – the business card Soap had given you last night. 

It all floods back to you, and you find yourself pulling your phone out, opening it to make a new contact under the name Soap.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, still wrapped in your towel, you shoot him a text.

“Hi Soap, remember me? You walked me home last night! I was just wondering if I could take this as a business inquiry?”

You aren’t sure where the burst of confidence came from. Last night, you would have never even thought to ask him such a thing. But the fact your plans fell through last night with that pig of a man, you kind of had no other choice at this point. 

And luckily for you, Soap texted back almost immediately.

“Sure, darlin’. We can consider it a business inquiry.”

Jackpot, you think. Not only is he very good looking and nice – if he has the money, then you can’t think of anyone better to sell your ‘goods’ to. 

He’s perfect.

Turns out, Soap is more than ready to meet up. Not at a bar, you’re thrilled, but at an actual restaurant. It almost feels like a real date!

You have the opportunity to dress yourself up and feel pretty. It feels so much better than meeting up with that guy at the dingy bar. Your nerves are almost non-existent. 

You still have that jittery feeling everyone gets when they’re going to be going out with someone new. 

But this isn’t actually a date, you have to tell yourself, as you get into your car to drive to the restaurant. It’s a meeting.

When you walk in, you’re greeted with the heavenly smell of food and what you can only deduce as something akin to mint. It’s a lovely restaurant, tablecloths and wine glasses everywhere. 

You look around the room before you spot him, sitting at a table in the far back nursing a glass of water. You make your way there, coming to a slow stop in front of the table. He looks up, blue eyes widening at the sight of you before he jumps to his feet. 

“You made it,” he says, a smile growing on his lips. 

He rounds the table and pulls your chair out, gesturing for you to take a seat.

“Thank you,” you say as he pushes you in a bit before returning to his own seat. 

Soap situates his elbows on the table, chin resting on his hands as he gazes across at you. You feel your cheeks burn underneath his intense gaze, not able to gain the courage to look directly at him.

A waiter comes by, depositing a basket of fresh, buttered bread on your table, letting you know he’ll be around in a moment to collect your orders. You offer him a polite smile as he vanishes, acutely aware that Soap is still staring right at you. 

“Why are you…” you clear your throat, finally looking at him. 

“You look lovely,” he says, a smile growing on his face when you become more bashful, “You’re truly breathtaking, has anyone ever told you that before?”

You can feel how hot your cheeks are and you resist the urge to reach up and pat them in an attempt to cool them down. You’re at a loss for words, no clue what to say in response to that. You hadn’t been told anything like that before, actually. Nor has anyone ever looked at you with such infatuated intensity like he is right now. 

Thankfully, the waiter arrives to relieve you of this immense pressure. Pulled from his devoted admiration, Soap orders first before you put your own order in. 

Left alone once again, you and Soap fall into an easy conversation. You’re surprised by how nice it is to talk to him, he’s open and funny. He tells you about his buddies in the military and about how he goes out to drink every weekend with some guy named Kyle and that he thinks his buddy Ghost’s jokes are just the worst abomination on Earth. 

You get so lost in talking to him, you don’t even realize how much time has passed. Your food arrives and the table finally falls quiet. 

You both get lost in eating your meals. Soap finishes his glass of wine and leans back in his seat with a content sigh. When you finish your own plate, you do the same. The chair creaks underneath the shift of weight and your eyes meet his. 

You wait to see if he’ll say something. But he just continues to stare at you, drifting from your eyes and down the rest of your body that’s not hidden by the table. 

“So, should we get out of here?” you finally find yourself asking, burying any embarrassment deep down, “Your place or mine?”

Soap seems to falter suddenly, crooked smile slipping off of his face, “Listen, darlin’...I-I don’t actually want to…you know…”

Your cheeks burn a little and you shrink in on yourself where you sit, “Oh! Well, that’s fine. I-It’s just that you said it was an inquiry so…I assumed.”

Soap shakes his head, reaching across the table to place his hand over yours, “I know. I told you that just so I could see you. I’m just worried about you, darlin’.”

“You want to talk me out of it,” you sigh, leaning back in your seat again, “I appreciate your concern, Soap. But I’m really at the end of my rope here. This is my very last resort, you understand?”

“But you shouldn’t have to-!” you pull your hand out from underneath his and stand.

“I know,” you shrug, “I’m only doing what I can with my circumstances. I appreciate you taking the time to see me and let me know you’re worried. I’ll see you around, okay?”

You leave him behind at the table and make your way back to your car. As you sit, engine idling, the disappointment bubbles up within you. Soap is probably the absolute best you could have gotten in a situation like this. But, it’s clear now that you’re going to have to find a new guy. 

You just hope you don’t walk right into the clawed talons of some unknown serial killer or something. 

The thought sends shivers down your spine as you make your way back home.

So begins the process of finding a new person to get the money from. 

It’s not like it’s hard to find someone to sell your virginity to, men come out of the woodwork offering you the money. It’s no problem at all to set up a little meeting and get to know them before you’re whisked away to a bedroom. 

At least, that’s how it should be. 

The problem was there seemingly was always something that got in the way. Or rather…someone.

Soap, in fact. 

Around every turn, he was there to intercept the meeting you had with a man. 

A terribly boring man named Charles; Soap showed up at the bar you met at. The surprisingly young guy you weren’t even sure had enough money for his own monthly rent, Brandon; Soap was there. Justin, the doctor that lowkey gave you the creeps; Soap was there too. 

Every single time, the Scot would sit himself at the table and run the guy off, leaving you no choice but to go home alone and moneyless. 

You’re getting angrier with every passing day and before you know it, you’re calling him up and asking him to meet you. 

The second you lay your eyes on him, you’re marching right up to him.

“What the hell is your problem, Soap?!” you cry, practically nose to nose with him as you glare.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he holds his hands up in mock surrender, “Don’t know what I did to get you so wound up but-”

“You know exactly what you’ve done!” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest, “Why do you keep getting in my way?”

“That’s a mean thing to say to someone,” he responds lightheartedly. 

But then your glare wipes the smile off of his face and he sighs, running a hand through his mohawk. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, rocking anxiously back and forth on his heels as he seems to think over his next words carefully.

“I’m just lookin’ out for you, darlin’,” he assures, “This…isn't safe, what you’re doin’. You could get into somethin’ real serious. I just…want to make sure you’re safe.”

You deflate and sigh, “I already told you, Soap. I appreciate your concern but…”

Suddenly, he surges forward, big, rough hands cupping your cheeks as he pulls your lips to his. You gasp, hands resting against his chest as you allow yourself to melt into the kiss. 

When he pulls back, he seems almost nervous, “I wanted to kiss you really badly the first night I saw you.”

“So you like me?” you ask softly, not taking your hands off of his chest.

He reaches up, wrapping one of his hands around yours, “I’m afraid so.”

“Soap…” you start but he interrupts you.

“Johnny,” he says, “Call me Johnny.”

“Johnny,” you correct yourself, feeling your cheeks burn at the positively giddy look on his face, “I don’t know if…this…” you gesture between the two of you, “Is a good idea…with what I’m dealing with.”

His brows furrowed and a frown lines his lips. You find yourself wishing you could wipe the solemn look right off his face – it doesn’t suit him, “Just give me a chance, yeah? That’s all I ask of you.”

You sigh, “Okay, Johnny.”

You’re not sure why you gave in so easily to him. But the bright look returns to his eyes again and you find yourself feeling lighter. 

He steps back, slipping his fingers in between yours. He tugs you in his direction to follow him and you do, heart skipping in your chest as you look at your hand wrapped up in his. 

You haven’t been in a relationship in a very long time so this giddy feeling wasn’t one that you got to feel very often. 

Sooner than you’d like, he’s slipping his hand from yours to open the door to an apartment complex for you. You step inside and make your way down the hallway, tailing close behind him up to a door on the first floor – apartment 108. 

“It’s not much,” he gives you that charming, crooked smile as he opens the door.

“It’s better than my place,” you joke as you toe your shoes off.

“Have you had anything to eat?” he asks, helping you out of your jacket before hanging it on the rack by the door. You shake your head and he nods, “I’ll order us somethin’. Go ahead and make yourself at home.”

You watch him disappear into the kitchen as you look around his flat. It’s a modest apartment, a bit bare but there’s little bits of Johnny scattered around the place. There were picture frames on the walls and on different surfaces. The couch was navy blue and looked well loved. 

“Here’s some water,” he says, startling you as he comes back into the living room, “I ordered us some food, wasn’t sure what you liked so I guessed.”

You chuckle, taking a seat on the couch, “I don’t mind.”

“I’m not really,” he chuckles, sounding nervous, “Good at this.”

“Well,” you sink into the cushions, “I can’t say I am either.”

He laughs, a sweet, melodic sound that makes your cheeks flush, “Well, in that case. We can just…go with the flow.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Go with the flow.”

By the time the food arrives, you and Soap are invested in watching a random season of The Bachelorette. Neither of you could decide so you looked online to find a wheel to spin to decide your fate for you. 

“Ugh,” Soap groans, “Can’t believe she’s goin’ on about how dreamy this bastard is. He’s a total tool!”

You giggle, holding one of his throw pillows against your chest as you sit. You’re about to add your own two cents when the doorbell rings. 

Soap jumps to his feet, “Fuckin’ hell, I could eat a cow.”

You admire the view of him from behind when he opens the door. His tight green t-shirt hugs the dip of his waist, riding up just a bit to show a sliver of tanned skin. His shoulders look impossibly wide as he stands in the doorway to take the food, muscles rippling beneath the fabric. His jeans sit low on his hips, belt tied tightly around them. 

Fuck, he’s good looking.

He turns, grinning and holding up the bags as if to show you his spoils. He raises one dark brow curiously, as if he knows what you’d been thinking.

“So,” he coos, saddling up next to you, placing the food on the coffee table, “Did you enjoy the view?”

You squeak, “I don’t think it’s polite to call out someone for looking…”

He cocks his head to the side and chuckles, leaning down to grip your chin, “Mind if I kiss you?”

“Now you’re asking?” you respond, breathless as you look at his lips coming closer and closer to yours.

“Aye,” he breathes. 

You nod and his lips are against yours in an instant. He supports his weight by placing his hands on the back of the couch. You have to crane your neck back to be able to kiss him but having him over top of you like this is exhilarating. 

You know you should stop before you get too carried away but you can’t seem to bring yourself to break away from him. Your attraction to this man is palpable and all consuming. 

Against your better judgment, you let him push you down, back against the cushions so he can crawl onto the couch. One knee on one side of you, he keeps one foot on the floor to straddle you without crushing you under his weight. But you wish that he would, fuck. 

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers slipping through the short hairs of his mohawk. He sighs against your lips, one hand coming up to wrap lightly around your throat, just pinning you down so he can deepen the kiss. 

You find yourself tugging at his shirt, edging it up and up until he’s forced to pull away.

“Are you sure?” he asks, blue eyes swallowed by the black of his pupils when he meets your gaze. 

You nod, “Want you, Johnny.”

“I’ll give you all of me,” he promises, sitting up to yank his shirt over his head. 

It feels like the air evaporates from your lungs at the sight of him. He’s built, muscles rippling underneath a layer of fat – a man who is built for pure strength. His tanned skin is littered with tattoos here and there and hair speckles over his chest and stomach, a thick happy trail disappearing under his jeans. Which are tented with how his hardened cock presses against the fabric, desperate to be released. 

Your hand slips down the planes of his chest and down his tummy, cupping his erection. It twitches and kicks beneath your touch and pulls a groan from him. 

He reaches out, wrapping his hand around your wrist and bringing your hand to his lips where he places a kiss upon your palm. 

“Strip yourself, baby,” he orders, “Wanna see that pretty body.”

He sits back on his heels, watching your every movement as you slip your shirt off and shimmy your pants down your hips. 

When you stop, he realizes you're not going to take your panties off so he quickly does it for you. His thumbs hook into the band and yanks them down, making you squeal as the force jostles you. 

Soap chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as his hands eagerly cup your breasts. You sigh at the contact, arching your back to press more into his touch. 

His kisses all over your chest, leaving no spot untouched, until he can pop one of your nipples in his mouth. You whimper, fingers sliding appreciatively through his mohawk while his other hand slips between your thighs. 

You easily part them, nearly panting by the time his fingers slip between your folds. You're already wet and sticky, drooling all over yourself with slick he uses to circle your clit. 

Your hips twitch as the first feeling of his rough fingers on the little bud. You cry out, tugging on his hair as he switches his mouth to give your other nipple proper attention. 

You arch your hips, his fingers sneaking down to prod at your entrance. With a glance at your face to make sure you're okay with it, he slides one in. 

There's a loud squelch when it sinks in to the last knuckle and you whine in embarrassment. 

He can't resist commenting, “So wet.” 

You whimper, lightly slapping his shoulder at his teasing. He chuckles, leaning up to press his lips against yours as he carefully works you open on that one finger. He presses and prods against your walls, waiting for you to relax so he can slip another one inside you — really prepare you for his cock. 

He presses against your g-spot and it rips a heavenly sound from your lips that only encourages him to do it again. You get wetter and wetter, throbbing and clenching around his middle finger. 

When he decides you're ready, he introduces a second finger. His ring finger easily fits in right alongside his middle. 

“There you go,” he praises, unable to resist looking down to see where his fingers are buried inside you, “That's it, baby, look at you go.” 

You gasp, eyes rolling back in your head when he adjusts his hand. His palm cups over your clit, the angle letting him really grind the tips of those digits right against that gooey little spot inside you. 

He watches the way you cream his fingers, milky colored slick dripping down his knuckles. It makes his mouth water. 

The movements rub his palm over your clit, stimulating the tender little bud and driving you closer and closer to the edge. You cry out, moaning and wailing the tighter that cord winds in your tummy. 

You clench and pulse against his fingers, a signal that you're going to cum for him. He works even harder, diligently worshiping your precious cunt until you toss your head back and sob. 

Your body trembles, thighs twitching in time to your walls squeezing around him. He moans with you, watching your pretty body in the throes of pleasure. 

When it becomes too much, you weakly reach down and bat his hand away. He slips his fingers out, watching you clamp your thighs shut. 

As you lay there panting and collecting yourself, he pops his cum-covered fingers into his mouth. He moans at your taste, slipping his tongue between them to catch every single drop of sweet cum he can get. 

By the time he finishes off the delicacy, you're watching him with lidded eyes and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. 

“More?” he asks, a crooked grin on his face. You nod and he chuckles, “That looked like a good fuckin’ orgasm. Sure you can handle more?”

“If I can't,” you whisper, sitting up to tug at his belt, “You can make me.”

“Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to help you open his pants, “Want me to make you take it, baby? Make you cum on my cock until you can't even think?”

“Please, Johnny,” you whimper, not tearing your eyes off the sight of him stripping himself bare. 

His cock was fat and heavy, a thick patch of hair scattering the base with thick, full balls to match. You felt your mouth fill with saliva at the sight of his hand wrapped around his big cock, stroking himself languidly until enough precum had dripped out to slick himself up. 

“Let me hear it again, doll,” his eyes are heavy lidded as he looks at you laid out beneath him, breathless and sweating from the orgasm he’d worked out of you.

“Please, Johnny,” you whisper, needily reaching your hands out towards him. 

“Shit,” he grunts, “Alright.” 

He scoots closer to you, spreading your legs open for him. Your sticky folds part, exposing your swollen, sensitive clit and clenching hole that’s still drooling your creamy release. 

He slips the tip of his cock through the gooey mess, tapping it meanly against your little bud. Your knees flinch at the stimulation and your jaw drops open when he starts to push inside. 

It burns and you arch your hips away instinctively from the pain. He slips out and curses.

“You gotta relax, sweetheart,” he mumbles, hoisting your hips into his lap with an iron grip. 

“Can’t,” you pitifully whimper. 

Soap clicks his tongue, purses his lips and lewdly spits on your clit. You whine, hands covering your face when he uses his cockhead to smear it all over. 

When he starts to push in again, the burn starts but a rough thumb finds your clit. 

“Shh,” Soap soothes you, watching as the furrow in your brows vanishes. 

He works your clit in tiny circles as he carefully saws his cock in and out of your tight hole, inching a little bit more in every time. Your body grows pliant and soft, slumping against the couch until he finally buries himself to the hilt. 

“Thaaaaat’s it,” he praises, still rolling your hard clit under his thumb, “Good fuckin’ job. Take your reward, sweetheart.” 

He remains completely stuffed inside you, grinding his hips up just a little until he prods at that gooey little spot inside you. His thumb continues to swirl around your clit and he watches your eyes grow wide, a grin stretching across his face.

“C-Cummin’-!” you manage to gasp before you throw your head back. 

He groans, jaw falling open as he works you through the orgasm, rubbing your clit to ease you through every pleasurable wave. It’s only when you reach down, grabbing his wrist to stop him that he ceases. 

“Fuck,” you pant, pupils blown wide as he looks at you coming down. 

“Feels good cumming on cock, huh, sweetheart?” he asks, once again wearing that crooked grin on his face. 

You nod your head, still too fucked out from your orgasm to properly formulate words. He chuckles, carefully pulling back until only the thick head of him remains nestled inside. With a swift, experienced roll of his hips, he stuffs every single inch right back in. 

You wail, grappling haphazardly against his shoulders for stability as he starts to really fuck you. He punches so deep, makes you feel him in your tummy. The friction burns and feels incredible at the same time. 

It feels so fucking good that you can’t stop any of the sounds that are forced from your lungs with every mind-numbingly pleasurable thrust of his cock. You’re soaking him, dripping all creamy down his cock in a way he knows you’ve never done before. No way your own fingers could make you cream like this and he doubts you’ve ever sat this pretty cunt on any stupid toys. 

He groans, grinding against your clit every time he reaches as deep as he can, “Not gonna have shit to sell now, huh?”

You whimper, shaking your head as you stare at him wide eyed, drool dripping over your lips because you can’t close your mouth for even a second. There’s no way for you to quiet yourself, you’re loud, you wear every pleasurable experience on your face with no ability to hide or perform. Every reaction is real and authentic and he loves it. 

“Don’t think I can ever let you go after this, sweetheart,” he coos, slowing his thrusts so you can focus on looking at him, “That alright with you?”

You swallow thickly and shakily nod your head, “O-Only want you, J-Johnny.”

He snorts, sharp canines glinting at the predatory grin he gives you, “You only sayin’ that because you’re got your cunt stuffed full of my cock?”

You whimper at the punishing thrust he gives you, the pain of him battering your cervix making you tremble, “N-No! L-Liked you when I first saw y-you. I-I swear, Johnny. Please!”

“Alright, quit fuckin’ beggin’,” he snaps, leaning out of your reach, making you whine. 

He takes a mean grip of your hips, using just his strength to yank you onto his cock like a fleshlight. You wail, head tossed back against the couch as he really fucks you. Every thrust is too deep but gives you nothing but pleasure. He grinds against your clit every time he sinks in, making sure to also aim for the gooey little spot that gets you creaming around him. His fat, heavy balls slap against your ass every time he stuffs that cock into you. 

It’s all just too much. He should know better, really, treating a little virgin pussy so meanly. You’re too new to this, don’t know how to take such cruel, deep strokes. You’re squeezing tight, staring at him with wide, glassy eyes. He can’t stop the moan that tears from his throat at the sight of tears trickling down your cheeks – proof that this is all too much. 

But he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. Not when he feels how tight you’re squeezing around him, how much wetter you’re getting as you get closer and closer to what he knows is going to be the best damn orgasm of your life. 

“Cum,” he whispers, shocked at how fucked his voice is from pleasure, “Cum right fuckin’ now.”

“W-Wait, Johnny-!” you wail, feet kicking as you fight against his iron-tight hold on you, “I-It’s…It feels w-wrong!”

“Stop fuckin’ runnin’,” he snarls, easily pinning you to the couch. He folds you up, knees to your chest as he presses his body weight down on you. He can feel the air being forced out of your lungs under the weight, “I said cum.”

You open your mouth, wanting to say something. But you can’t get the words you, only whimpers and tears. He doesn’t care what you had to say, though. All he cares about is feeling your tight little cunt cum around him so he can have his own orgasm. 

You still try to fight him from how intense the build up is. You slap against his shoulders, squirm and try to kick him off but he easily holds you down. Even as you fight, you never once tell him to stop. 

After a few, long seconds, he feels it. 

Fuck, does he feel it. 

You gush. It splatters all over his cock and stomach. He curses, slamming into you over and over, every thrust forcing another squirt out of you. You’re sobbing, fat tears falling down your cheeks and you’re moaning the prettiest damn symphony that has ever blessed his ears. 

The orgasm is too much, it’s intense and all consuming. You can’t come down, every time he stuffs you full, your orgasm continues to wash through you. 

“J-Johnny-!” you sob, “N-No more!”

“Fuck!” he snarls, cutting his own orgasm off when he pulls out of you. 

He pushes himself off of you and you curl in on yourself, softly sniffling and shaking in a little ball. He licks his dry lips at the sight of you covered in your own squirt. 

“C’mere, darlin’,” he coos, panting and breathy, hoisting you up and into his lap. 

He cradles you in his arms as you’re wracked with trembles and twitches, your nerves zapping through your body from the pleasure. He shushes you, cupping your chin to make you look at him. Your eyes are red-rimmed and wet from your tears, pupils blown out wide. He clicks his tongue and wipes his thumb underneath to swipe some away. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coos, “Just get some breaths. Got a little overwhelmed, huh?”

You nod, slumping against him with a sigh when you finally feel like you’re back in your body. Johnny is solid and sweaty beneath you, warm and comfortable as he cups the back of your head and strokes his hand over your body. 

“I-I’ve never um…” you clear your throat, cheeks burning hot.

“Knocked your damn socks off, huh?” he jokes, a crooked smile on his face. 

You giggle, endorphins still rushing through your body. You shift on his lap and catch the pinch in his brow before he can school his expression back into place. You look down, biting your lip at the sight of his cock still hard and twitching, smeared in a creamy mess of your cum.

“Ah, it’ll go down on its own, darlin’,” he assures, no irritation to be seen or heard from him. 

One look in his eyes shows you that he’s perfectly prepared to go without his well-earned orgasm – just for you. 

But you don’t want that, you realize. He had made you feel incredible, given you an orgasm that you’ve never been able to experience in your life. You doubt anyone else will ever be able to make you do it again. 

“I-I want to help, Johnny,” you whisper, trying to swallow down your nerves. 

His brows raise in interest, “What did you have in mind?”

You slide off of his lap and slowly sink to your knees. You place your shaky hands on his thighs to steady yourself, looking up at him with wide, too-innocent eyes. 

He lets his head fall back against the back of the couch, a breathless, “steamin’ blood Jesus,” following. 

“I-I’ve never done this,” you confess, though he’s not surprised, “Is that okay?”

“Is that-” he laughs softly, “darlin’ any man who isn’t appreciative of you willin’ to swallow his cock is a man you kick in the balls, got that?”

You giggle, nerves dissipating as he wraps a hand around the base of him. You scoot a bit closer when he holds it out for you, waiting for you to do what you please with it. Your tongue falls from your mouth and Soap feels like he’s suspended in air as he watches you get closer and closer to the sensitive, leaky tip. 

The first contact feels better than he could have imagined. He’d gotten so fucking close earlier, buried in your cunt as you came around him, squealing for him and all. He knows it won’t take much to send him over the edge this time. 

Perfect practice for you, he thinks. You won’t have to be on your knees for too long or do any real work to get him to cum for you. 

You’re clumsy and it’s clear you’re unsure about the taste of his cock. It’s not just his precum, it’s your own cum mixed with it. He can’t blame you for being unsure.

He reaches down, a soft, gentle hand resting atop your head to encourage you. When you look up, he smiles so softly at you that it makes your heart jump in your chest. You suddenly feel like you’re the center of his world. Those baby blues never once waver from you as you sloppily lick and slurp on the tip of him. 

���Take a little more,” he whispers, lashes fluttering and chest rising as he takes a deep breath when you eagerly follow his directions. 

Your pretty lips stretch around the girth of him, taking just the head inside your hot little mouth. The flared glans are greeted by your curious tongue, making him whimper when you lick. Your mixed taste lingers on your tongue but you quickly grow accustomed to it. 

Feeling braver from Johnny’s unfiltered reactions, you take a little more into your mouth. Then more. And a little more until you suddenly choke, gagging around him. You pull your head off, sputtering and coughing a bit. 

Johnny coos at you, thumbing away some drool on your chin, “Not too deep, darlin’. You’re not ready for that.”

You hum, not at all discouraged from taking him back into your mouth again. You don’t take him as deep, accepting that you have your limit – for now, judging by Johnny’s subtle promise of more to come. 

“Just suck, watch your teeth,” he whispers, not caring about the way his voice cracks, “Move your head like this. Go at your own pace, alright?”

You lazily blink up at him, hoping he understands your agreement. You do as you’re told, folding your lips over your teeth to keep them away from his sensitive skin. Bobbing your head feels awkward and it makes your jaw ache but the sounds Johnny begins to make makes you temporarily forget about your own discomfort. 

His eyes are rolling back in his head and he starts to stroke the rest of his cock that your mouth can’t handle yet. You can’t tear your gaze away from the sight of those thick, veiny fingers wrapped around himself, getting covered in a slick mess of your cum that he had so generously fucked out of you earlier. Drooling all over him like this only gives him more of a mess to work with. It’s gross, frothy and dripping down your chin and neck, slicking up your tits.

It makes your cunt tingle selfishly. You think you could make yourself cum, slip your hand between your legs and stroke your clit until you find release. But you don’t – you focus on Johnny and his pleasure. He’d already given you so much that you don’t want to come across as greedy by making his moment about your own pleasure. 

Johnny’s free hand grip around the back of your neck, squeezing and caressing your skin as encouragement since his mouth is too busy moaning. You take his sounds as signals, sucking and moving at whatever pace makes him cry out the loudest. 

You had no idea men like him were willing to be as loud as he was. Usually, the masculine type of guys like him would be online whining about how moaning was ‘gay’ or some stupid shit.

Johnny didn’t seem to give a fuck. If he felt good, he was going to let you know. It made you feel more at ease, like you were doing a good job even though you knew you were still clumsy and it probably didn’t feel as good as head he’s surely gotten in the past. 

But it encouraged you to work harder to please him, to earn more of those beautiful, unfiltered moans that he was so willing to give you. They were your reward for the intense ache in your jaw.

“F-Fuck,” he groans, suddenly, eyes opening from when he had closed them at some point, “I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

His words are slurred, like his brain’s oozed down to his cock, too stupid to think of anything except how heavy and full his balls felt. 

“Shit, shit, shit-!” he whimpers, an honest to god whimper, “Off, pull off!”

You do as you’re told, releasing his cock from your mouth. Strings of frothy drool connect your lips to his tip and you don’t dare break it, the sight making you clench around nothing. 

Johnny strokes his cock, another loud moan erupting from his lips as he cums. It spurts out, splattering against your cheek, making you flinch in surprise. You can see the way his balls throb in time to each rope of cum that his fat cock spits out. More splatters on your cheeks and lips and across your nose until it tapers off to slow, thick oozes that dribble over his knuckles. 

When he lets himself go, he sags against the couch, staring dazedly at the ceiling as his erection flags and grows soft. 

When he finally looks at you, you can see his eyes widen almost in alarm. He leans forward, cupping your cheek, messily swiping some of his cum off of your cheek.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles, still sounding breathless, “Didn’t think you were gonna get splashed with it.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, feeling his cum still lingering on your lips.

You can’t resist sticking your tongue out to taste it. His eyes darken at the sight of you licking up his cum. You don’t make a face of disgust like he expected, instead he catches the way your thighs clench together.

“Is that right?” he mumbles, cock twitching in interest, “Isn’t that an interesting development? You like to taste cum, sweetheart?”

You whimper when he swipes more up onto his thumb, bringing it to your lips for you to suck off, which you eagerly do. You suck his finger clean until he pulls it back out, pupils blown wide, making his blue eyes look black.

“You ever had that pretty cunt eaten before?” he asks, a predatory grin splitting across his face when you shake your head.

His hand wraps around your throat, ripping a moan out of your throat. He easily manhandles you onto your knees, tits pressed against the cushions of the couch with a nasty “stay.”

You never thought you’d enjoy being manhandled and ordered around like a dog but fuck if you’re not learning more about yourself tonight. 

Soap smacks your thighs apart, and slips his head between them. You take a glance down and nearly choke at the sight of him laying on his back, staring hungrily as you cunt drips gooey, sticky strings right onto his waiting tongue that he holds out for it. 

The sight is so fucking filthy. 

But it’s nothing compared to the sounds he makes when he gets that tongue on your cunt. He slurps between your folds, groaning at the taste of your cum on his taste buds. He swallows your clit, cheeks hollowing out as he sucks. 

You’re already a moaning mess, crying out into the cushions which you claw desperately at. Your eyes roll up into your head when you feel him pop your clit out of his mouth, spit on it, and then slurp it right back up. 

He eats so fucking dirty, it’s disgusting and sloppy. But it makes you rut your hips against him. 

Soap chuckles, pulling back to watch you work your hips over nothing before you realize he stopped and whine.

“Fuck yourself on my tongue then,” he whispers, earning him a relenting whimper in response. 

You can feel the flat of his tongue, hot and thick, against your clit. The little bud’s so hard, swollen and pulsing against the muscle. 

With his order ringing in the back of your head, you clumsily hump his tongue. You drag your sensitive little clit back and forth along the surface of his tongue. It feels so fucking good that you actually sob. The sound tears from your chest and makes his cock twitch. 

You rut faster and faster, not caring about the way you’re messing up his face when you move too high or too low. You know there’s a mess on his chin, cheeks and nose but you don’t care. His tongue is there for you, for you to cum all over. He’s so good to you, holding it out just so you can use him as you please. 

As you grow closer and closer, your moans change in pitch and he suddenly reaches up, stilling you. You groan, an irritated sound that makes him laugh. You frown at that but it’s quickly wiped away when he grips your ass, spreading your cheeks apart so he can stuff his tongue into your creaming cunt. 

You shout, sitting straight up in surprise, your weight falling onto his face. He moans at that, rewarding you by pushing his tongue even deeper. It feels odd, different from his fingers and his cock. It’s soft and almost slimy, not long enough to quite reach any pleasurable place. 

But just the fact that he’s got his tongue buried in your pussy is enough to have you clenching on it. He watches you through heavy lids, waiting to see what your next move is. 

He’s enjoying your little show, he must admit. He likes seeing a sweet, clumsy virgin experience these things for the first time. He likes the fact he’s breaking you in, tearing your walls down and seeing you lost in mind-numbing pleasure. 

You surprise him by resuming the motion of your hips. You hump back and forth, riding his tongue like it’s a little toy just for you. And he supposes it is, he’d be a toy for you if you so wished. He’s addicted to this sweet, creamy little pussy and he’s not afraid to admit it. 

You reach down, swirling your fingers around your sticky clit. There’s lewd clicks that accompany the movements along with the sound of his tongue sliding in and out of your hole. 

You meet his gaze, he’s staring so intensely at you. It spurs you on, makes you fuck yourself on his face more confidently. 

You tap your fingers against your clit, slapping the little bud and pulling your fingers back to show Soap the sticky strings of slick that connect them to your cunt. He can’t stop himself from reaching down, wrapping his hand around his cock, jerking himself off to the sight of you smacking your clit and fucking his tongue. 

You’re pulsing around it, dripping down his face and mixing with the drool that's pooling out of his mouth. His face is a mess, it drips down his cheeks and under his neck. He’s sure there’s a pool beneath his head that will need to be cleaned up and fuck, he’ll lick it from the floor if you let him. Just as long as he gets to taste you again. 

You gasp, tossing your head back. His cock fucking aches, harder than it was before and more sensitive now that he’s already had an orgasm. He knows he’s leaking, drooling sticky precum all over himself like the horny mutt he is. 

You cum spectacularly, twitching and trembling, rubbing your clit and clenching around his tongue. It’s like a reward, swallowing down your cum straight from the source. He pulls his tongue out of your hole and wraps his lips around your clit again. 

You wail, shaking and throwing yourself face down against the couch again. You try to wrench your hips away from his punishing mouth but he wraps his arms around your thighs and continues to slurp and slobber all over that tender little bud. Your eyes roll back in your head as another orgasm tears through you, far too soon after the other. It almost hurts from how sensitive you are through it, not even able to make a sound as it washes over you. 

Only when you’re left twitching and trembling does he finally relent. There’s tears falling out of your eyes and drool dribbling down your chin. The picture of fucked out.

He laughs, folding himself over your back. 

“You still with me?” he asks, kissing your shoulder.

You whimper, “Fuck, you’re so good, Johnny.”

He chuckles, “Think you can take more?”

You eagerly nod your head and he doesn’t waste any time. He sinks his cock into you in one deep thrust. You choke on a moan, arching your back so you can feel him even deeper. 

He doesn’t start slow like he did before. He knows your little cunt is fucked nice and open for him now. You’re still dazed, drunk on endorphins, any attempts to meet his thrusts are sloppy and clumsy. It’s cute so he doesn’t bother stopping you. 

“Spread your legs,” he orders you but doesn’t wait for you to do it. 

Instead, he meanly knocks them apart, opening you up even more. His balls slap against your clit and you wail, the exact reaction he was hoping for.

“There you go,” he laughs, “You liked slapping that little clit earlier. How’s this?”

“So good!” you cry, kicking your feet against the floor as pleasure washes through you. 

You feel like a live wire, every movement forcing you closer and closer to your next orgasm. Soap isn’t far behind you, too sensitive and worked up to draw it out for long. 

He clasps the back of your neck, pinning your face to the cushions as he fucks. He takes and takes, using your sticky, gooey cunt. He’s pounding into you, hips slamming against your ass and his balls slapping your clit. 

You can’t even say anything as the orgasm washes over you. He only feels it, the rhythmic clenching of your walls and the gush as you squirt. You’re silent, completely still against the couch as he saws his fat cock in and out, squirt after squirt of cum splattering all over his thighs until he inevitably reaches his own end. 

This time, he fills you up. Seats himself as deeply inside of you as he can before he moans. His cock pathetically spits only a few strings of cum but the orgasm lasts far longer, encouraged along by the clenching of your cunt as you’re coming down. Or maybe you’re still cumming, he’s not sure. 

There’s a faraway look in your eyes, a wet spot of drool underneath your cheek on the cushion of the couch. You’re panting and glistening with sweat. When he pulls out of you, you drop to sit on the floor, the measly load he had given you drooling out of your cunt as it continues to clench and throb around nothing. 

Fuck, he’s never felt so proud to fuck someone brainless before. He knows you’re gonna need a good bath and cozy arms to sleep in. 

And his are the best around, if he does say so himself. 

He kisses up your spine, curling himself around you as you finally start to come back to yourself, pliant and soft. The both of you sit there, holding one another and sharing soft kisses until he decides it’s time to move. 

He’s in no rush, though. He’s wrapped around your finger now and you’re never getting rid of him. 

do not modify, translate, repost, or use for c.ai. reblogs OK!

[alexiroflife]

jjk men reactions & aftercare when you use your safeword…

headcanons list

MDNI, highly suggestive content, smut themes, overstimulation, mentions of discomfort/pain, spanking (suguru), etc.

gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna

-> all i could think of when writing safe words was this from that one rick & morty episode please help

satoru gojo:

satoru gojo, before his relationship with you, was a full-fletched virgin.

while people close to him like suguru, before he left jujutsu tech, or shoko would have been able to tell anyone this fact after having known him for so long and so well, in satoru's later years, he finds that everyone assumes he has a rather promiscuous past before settling down with you.

he understands. quite frankly, it doesn't surprise him at all. he's a flirty personality with a sickenly gorgeous face, with the confidence and arrogance of a well-seasoned slut. he does not exude the energy of a person who went twenty-four years of his life without having sex with anyone. he had received and given oral maybe a few times in his early twenties, but he had never gone beyond that.

you're his first at twenty-four and you're his one and only from then one.

despite his lack of physical experience, satoru, unsurprisingly, is incredibly skilled with the use of his body. there's truly nothing that gojo can not do perfectly. he's seen enough, studied the physical reactions you have to him even when you're just speaking, knows you enough to treat you well without having had to fuck a million people beforehand.

and because you are satoru's one and only, he fucking worships you. he gets drunk off of you. he goes insane for you every single time the two of you are together intimately. while his stamina is incredibly high, his desperation proceeds him and his ability to maintain control is drastically lacking whenever he's got your pretty legs quivering over his head as his tongue licks greedy stripes over your puffy clit.

satoru is spoiled. he gets what he wants and does what he wants when he wants it, and he absolutely expects to get exactly what he wants from you when the two of you are in bed, which is to make you as much of a mess for him as he is for you. he wants you shaking, he wants you begging, he wants you crying for more as you struggle to handle just how good he makes you feel, and every single time, he succeeds.

the thought alone of pleasing you renders him dizzy, and his mind often wanders in the middle of meetings when he's supposed to be focused on the course schedule for the first years over the upcoming next few months. satoru is completely and utterly whipped for you, and with his greedy, mindless desire to hear you moaning for him into the early hours of the morning, he can tend to get a little out of hand.

satoru has never made you feel any less than heavenly, any less than adored, any less than cherished. he satisfies you in indescribable ways, and you're admittedly as head over heels for him as he is for you. he's soft, but then he's wild, whiny, relentless, sloppy, yet always so damn good. he pushes you to just the right limits, drawing out physical reactions you hadn't even known to be possible before him, and talking you through it all. though he's always on the brink of going too far, he never has.

so that is why you are close to panicking now that your legs and your throbbing, overstimulated pussy have gone numb with a rather unfamiliar tingling sensation.

you don't even think you can see anymore. you're long past an acceptable point of lack of functionality, and you can't even think. you hear satoru's voice murmuring as it always does, babbling on in his far-gone state as he pulls you closer for another round. the two of you started this when the sun was out, midday, and now, the sky is pitch black and the clock reads almost midnight, not that you can even tell.

you can feel satoru everywhere, hands flying to any patch of skin he can possibly find, yet the sensation is detached from you. you take a few seconds before realizing that you can hardly breathe, and your body is so spent you can barely move.

satoru, above you, is gone. exceedingly pussy drunk, having came more times than he could count in your mouth, on your stomach, on your back, inside your cunt, and yet he still seeks more. it's like his mind and body are on autopilot, searching for you blindly without any indication of how far he has gone or when he should stop. he's just as fucked out in the brain as you, but the only difference is that he somehow has more energy to spare. his dick is somehow still jumping to life, and you suddenly remember that this is satoru gojo you're talking about.

on the battlefield and in bed, he's a monster, unlike any other.

"c'mere, pretty, just-just one more, gotta feel you," he rambles, panting heavily as he tugs you closer and roams his crystal blue eyes over your trembling body. his sense of logic is skewed, the flags are not registering. he only sees you, and he is eager. he's so in love, so intoxicated by you, he's lost his damn mind.

"y'so gorgeous for me, baby, such a good pretty girl. my good pretty girl. love this pretty girl's pussy, so-so good for me. so good."

and there he goes, on and on about how he wants you, what you do to him, how perfect you are, and you can't even hear it. your ears are ringing. where the hell even are you?

satoru's moving to caress over your body, detailing the softness of your soaked skin beneath his palms before his hands meet your soaked cunt again. he's prying at your weak thighs, ghosting his fingers over your clit hungrily, and the second you feel the tip of his finger so much as graze your bundle of nerves, you're momentarily revived. you're gasping and pushing him away, crawling back.

satoru watches you, brows drawing together. he goes to reach for you again, but then you hastily breathe out. "purple! purple, purple, purple," you wail, body twitching as you curl in on yourself.

the moment your safeword falls on satoru's ears, he's snapping out of it. his blown pupils suddenly shrink and he reconnects with the world around him, with you, the way your heart races, the way you can hardly speak, the way you can't even lift your head from the pillow.

he looks down at the drenched state of your sheets, then back up at you, shaking, and he's finally back.

"baby," he coaxes in concern, crawling up to meet you. you don't even open your eyes when he hovers over you. you simply squirm, murmuring nonsense as chills rack you and your feet kick out. you're absolutely done. "fuck, baby. hey, you there with me? (y/n)?" he cups his hand over your hot cheek, worried eyes taking in the sight of you. he's never seen you like this before, and it's jarring. how long have you even been like this? did he seriously not notice that you had been spent for a while?

your hands go to push at his chest, but he stops you gently, holding your wrist and hushing you. "it's okay, princess, you're okay. you're alright... fuck, baby, look at you. you can't even understand me, can you?"

as expected, you don't show any indication that you can hear him. instead, your body slowly melts back into the sheets as though registering the shift in satoru's mannerisms and tone. you relax, slumping, and satoru almost thinks you've passed out.

"uh uh. don't pass out on me, pretty. come on," he urges you gently, patting your cheek. you groan and stir, at least showing him that you are still conscious. "okay, that's good, baby. that's a good girl, come here."

he pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in his safe embrace. your cheek falls against his bare pectoral and you hum, nuzzling into him as he holds your head close, petting over your hair and watching you carefully. satoru struggles to gather himself as well as he holds you, breathing heavily and twitching against your body whilst bringing himself back to reality.

you continue to rub your face against him, and he looks down at you, brows knitted together. fuck, he feels awful. he hadn't meant to push you this far.

"(y/n)?" he calls your name again, a rather rare occurrence. you take a moment to hum drowsily after a few minutes have passed. "can you hear what i'm saying?"

"...mhm," you hum again brokenly.

"yeah? you can?"

this time you only nod, and he sighs. "are you okay, pretty? are you hurt?"

"mm-mm."

"you sure?"

"y-yeah, tor..."

you don't even finish his name as you sink further into him. satoru kisses your cheek, then your temple. "okay, i get it now. i did too much? i went too far?"

"mhm," you whimper, and his arms tighten around you.

"i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, i should've known better," he apologizes profusely. "i got carried away, i wasn't even thinking. i wasn't even there myself- but that's no excuse. i'm sorry. stay with me, pretty."

slowly, your arms slide to wrap around your boyfriend's neck, and he melts like sap into you, cooing gently and showering you with kisses. he can feel your rapid heartbeat against his chest, your soft pants fanning on his cheek, your abdomen tightening and releasing with your shivers.

"you're so sensitive. i got you good, huh?" he observes. "i'll go easier, next time, pretty. okay? you did so good for me. you always do such a good job. just keep those pretty eyes closed and rest. i'll clean you up in a bit."

you nod meekly once more, cuddling impossibly further into him. you doze to the sound of his assurances, of his tender voices telling you that you’re safe, that satoru’s got you, that he’s so proud of you. he lets you rest before he has to wake you again to help you get ready for bed and to clean you properly.

he loves you so much. so so much, and despite him going overboard, his heart swells with relief at the fact that you feel comfortable enough to tell him to stop.

suguru geto: suguru is truly a kind and loving man. he's gentle and meticulous in the way he cares for you. he always makes sure that you have everything you need and that you're cared for the way you deserve to be cared for. and in bed, he's almost teasing with the way he loves you. he's sweet, keeping his searing lips to your ear as he floods your brain with declarations of future promises, of making you happy, of practically laying down his life if it means listening to you call his name over and over.

he's got a mouth on him, one full of filthy affections, and he gets you off on the sultry sweetness of his sugary tone constantly. he'll be knuckles deep inside you, kissing your cheek almost innocently as he murmurs seductively to you his devotions.

"you squeeze me so nice, sweet girl. you look so fucking beautiful like this. that's right, angel. feel it. feel my fingers stretching you out so good. fuck, i could finger you like this every day for the rest of my life. would you like that, angel? hmmm?"

he always makes sure you respond, as well. he's pulling orgasm after orgasm from you and urging you to speak while doing so, no matter how far gone you are. he's not satisfied until your angelic little voice is breathing out to answer him unsteadily, your words warming his heart and hardening his dick without fail.

nevertheless, despite suguru's generosity, he has the tendency to be so mean when he's agitated.

suguru has a pretty terrible attitude, and though it's not often on display when he is irritated, particularly by something you say, he's an entirely different beast.

his honeyed tone still remains when he punishes you, yet it's laced around far less pretty words. he teases, mocks, judges, and at times, it's enough to make you cry or second guess yourself if you were to hear him go on like this in any other setting.

suguru's presence is incredibly domineering aside from his normally gentle demeanor. when push comes to shove, he is still a man capable of murder, a man harboring the hatred of an entire species, and a man who manages to uphold his connections and his legacy through his cult by means of manipulation.

suguru is nice, yes, but he's also kind of a bully.

the dark-haired man doesn't find himself taking out his irritations on you often. he only deems it necessary to do so when his irritation is inspired by you, and while he has attitude issues, you mirror his tenfold... and he does not tolerate you doing so one bit.

now, you know suguru very well and are very accustomed to how he handles you when he's pissed off, but tonight, he's showing no mercy.

he's had you splayed over his lap for what feels like forever, your ass pointed upward and your wrists bound before you as you muffle your whimpers as best as you possibly can. you don't even remember what you had said or done to get suguru so worked up, but you know that your ass is stinging horribly and is likely marked up with several red angry hand prints, yet suguru is seemingly still far from finished with you.

you've tried crawling away multiple times, but his strong hands always pull you right back, keeping your back arched and your ass up for his access.

"don't cry now, angel," he says, voice dark as his hands roam over your ass. you tense as he gathers a handful of the fat into his fingers, squeezing tightly before raising his hand to smack down hard again with no warning. you lurch forward with a sob, your legs trembling harshly. "you weren't crying earlier when you were running your mouth so much, were you?"

"sugu," you hiccup, desperate for a break. "p-please..."

"nuh uh. you can't 'sugu' you're way out of this one," geto says, eyes heavy and dark as they look over the marks he has left behind. "after all, you're the one who wanted this."

"n-no," you deny pitifully.

"no?" he bites down hard on his teeth as he smacks you again, watching your plump flesh jiggle with the motion. he groans under his breath, sliding his hands over you again as you cry. "really? i could have sworn by the way you were talking to me, this was the only outcome you were looking for."

you can hardly hold yourself up anymore. your face falls flat on the bed as your body shakes with your laments. you don't know what number of spanks you're even on. was there ever a set count to begin with?

you try to reach a hand back, but you forget that your wrists are tied before you, leaving you with absolutely no defenses and suguru with the upper hand.

suguru roughly grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you up, looking over your tear-stained face with a quirked brow. "what's the matter? can't handle your punishment?" he taunts, eying you intensely.

you sniffle, eyes unfocused. your lips part to answer him, but he beats you to it, landing two more smacks to your backside, and you're seeing stars. the strike of his hand is starting to burn, stinging agonizingly over your skin. your ass is buzzing, throbbing with its own bruise-induced heartbeat.

you feel more tears break past your eyes and your brows scrunch up. "that won't do, angel," suguru says. "i must've gone too soft on you."

who goes to land one last strike, and you can't take it anymore. you're kicking away as best as you can, panting with your cries as your voice goes ragged.

"rose!!" you call, completely beyond yourself. "please, no more, please- i'm sorry! rose!"

suguru freezes, his hardened facade washing away. he breaks past the air of anger that he's been submerged in and sees the way you cry as he holds you up, your pearly tears dribbling past your chin as you continue to beg him to have mercy on you under your trembling breath.

"shit," he curses, slowly releasing your hair and easing your head back down. "i hear you, angel. loud and clear."

he hastily undoes your bind and tosses it to the side, setting your wrists free. you quiver, sinking over his lap. suguru catches a glimpse of the marks he has left once more, watching the blooming of purples and reds spread over your poor bum. he hadn't realize how bad it looked before, but he sees now just how hard he's been hitting you.

"fuck, angel, i'm sorry. i'm sorry."

his hand runs over the small of your back and he ducks down to the side of your face, which is still concealed as you cry. his brows curl and his heart lurches forward, his touch upon you now soft and delicate.

"(y/n)?"

"why'd y'spank me so hard," he hears you question into the blankets, speaking unstably amid your tears. suguru's heart drops then and there, and his entire demeanor shifts upon seeing what he's done to you.

"oh, sweet girl, i'm so fucking sorry. i'm sorry," he whispers to you soothingly, attempting to calm you. you're a wreck over his lap, shaking violently. "i don't know what happened. i don't know why i did that. i'm sorry, baby. i'm sorry."

he hisses as his thumb ghosts over his handprints, and even that has you jumping suddenly. "okay, i won't touch. i'm- shit, i really marked you up. that looks like it hurts so bad, angel, i'm sorry. i was being a dick. i don't know what came over me."

suguru slowly helps you up when you don't reply to him, and once he's got you slightly upright, you fall into his chest as you sob. his arms wrap over your upper and lower back securely, face burrowing into your shoulder. his long hair tickles your bare skin gently, his comforting scent consuming you, and you are reminded of your boyfriend's sympathy once more.

"a-are you really t-that mad?" you hiccup into his shoulder, dampening his skin with your tears.

"no," he tells you. "no, i'm not mad anymore. that wasn't- i just got carried away," he repeats. "you're okay, angel. you're perfect. i let my emotions get in the way too much."

"fe-lt like you hated me..."

"what?" he frowns, pulling back to look you in the eye. your red eyes meet his sorrowfully, and you sniff, searching for the kindness of those hazel eyes you so adore. you rediscover it the moment you look at him. "hate you? (y/n), no. don't say that. i could never hate you. i love you," he brushes your tears from your eyes and you whimper. "you're my sweet girl. my perfect angel. i would never," he says gravely. "i can't believe i made you feel that way."

"you spank hard," you pout, and he kisses your puffy lips, smoothing his hand over you hair and stroking your neck.

"i see that now. i'm sorry. i won't do that again," he kisses you again. "i'm sorry. i hate to see you cry like this. this isn't how i should make you cry."

suguru looks around and locates the bottle of water he left on the dresser prior. he leans forward, careful as to not agitate you, and grabs hold of it. "here," he unscrews the bottle around your waist and lifts it to your lips. "hydrate, baby. you need it."

you pucker your lips around the bottle as he eases it upward, easing the fluid into your mouth as you drink. "that's my girl."

once you're done, he leans down to put the bottle on the floor and slowly guides you off of him and onto your stomach after kissing your lips once more.

"what do you want, angel? ice? you want me to massage it?" he asks you, craning down by your ear as you press your cheek to the pillow and look at him tiredly.

"both," you say softly.

"yes ma'am. i'll be right back."

suguru spends the rest of the night treating you, rolling his cool hands ever so carefully over your bruises, cupping your ass, and massaging out the stings to increase blood flow. your brows arch and you moan into the pillow as he does so.

"i know, i know," he murmurs. "promise, i'll make it better. try to calm down for me."

he's kissing softly over the handprints, whispering endless apologies before applying ice every now and then. eventually, the pain begins to calm and subside as your senses dull, and suguru rubs circles over your waist.

"sugu?" you mutter after an extended period of silence.

the dark-haired man ducks down, gazing over your now serene features. "hm?"

he sees the corners of your lips pull upward subtly as you close your eyes. "you're mean, you know that?"

he puff of amused air blows through his nose as he nods, stroking your temple. "i know. i'm the meanest, angel. i'm sorry."

kento nanami:

kento nanami is a man among men, a perfect gentleman, the blueprint for all partners. he loves you dearly, and he takes any chance he can to show you or remind you of this love he harbors for you.

nanami treats you as though you are the only womann to grace this planet, and in many ways, that is exactly how he sees you. he dotes on you and makes you feel as though you are a queen among peasants, sending you flowers nearly every day, writing you sweet letters, cooking you dinner, keeping his hand to your waist to guide you close to him when you walk around in public, cooking your meals, and buying you every possible thing you could ever even mention wanting.

he's an angel. he's your dream man, and he's all yours and you're all his.

when kento is intimate with you, he likes to take his time. he likes to drag out every second of his fingers touching you and his lips ghosting over your body. he likes to admire you, every single part down to the last detail. he is never in any rush, and why should he be? why would he want this to end? you're his lovely woman, and you deserve every second of pleasure he has to offer you.

he handles you so lovingly, holding your gaze and intertwining his fingers with yours as he strokes into you deeply, a haze of raw passion capturing you both as you breathe into each other, fall into one another's longing gazes, and intertwine like pretty strokes of paint mixing into one another on a canvas.

he's enamored by you, kissing over your neck and listening to your pulse against his skin as he makes love to you, keeping you close, flush to him. tendrils of soft blonde hair sprinkle over your forehead as his lips meet yours, bodies rocking passionately. you can feel the fondness in the way he presses into you, the way he holds you, and you feel so feather light as your head floats into the clouds and heaven encaptures you in the bliss of his hold.

nanami is afraid of hurting you when you have sex. he tends to always handle you with care solely because of this fear of his, and while he has his moments of letting just a little bit more loose, of handling you just a little bit rougher, of pushing in just a little bit deeper, he doesn't want to overwhelm you to the point where you are in pain.

you, of course, spur him on and encourage him to let go. you don't believe that nanami would ever hurt you, or at least do so to the point of irreversible damage, but he still gives you a safe word to use for any time you may feel more sensitive than normal or need a break or simply want him to stop because he's making you uncomfortable. you never thought that you would need such a thing with him, but you had unfortunately been wrong.

it isn't even nanami's fault, per say. you like to push yourself more than nanami really approves, and while you can handle it just fine, you find a moment when you overestimate yourself.

you've been riding kento at his desk chair, your hands gripping his shoulders as his hands clutch your hips. his head is tossed back, normally neatly combed haired tousled messily, and his chocolate eyes drink you in through heavy lids. a chorus of hushed moans leave your lips as you work yourself down onto him, rolling your hips, grinding over him, and sliding up and down swiftly.

the blonde's lashes flutter as he watches you, a sight so beautiful and a sensation so purely exquisite that he can not bear to look away.

you lean down to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chest to his unbuttoned dress shirt. his hands run over your back on instinct, eyes falling closed as he pants into your shoulder.

"ken," you pur into his ear. "fuck up into me, please..."

and normally kento would think on it more, but hell, you just feel too good for him to deny such a polite request. he obliges, gripping your hips and holding you down, planting his feet securely into the carpet and sheathing his throbbing length upward and into your welcoming, gummy walls.

"oh, sweetheart," he groans, wrapping his arms around your waist and burrowing his nose into the crook of your neck with furrowed brows. "you feel so perfect like this."

"fuckkk, ken," you whine.

after a while, you push yourself down at a faster pace, attempting to catch up with his strokes and speed him up. kento grunts, holding you tighter and understanding the message as he thrusts up into you faster.

soon, the sound of his hips slapping into your ass lifts into the air throughout his home office, and you're whining into him, rutting yourself down with him.

nanami's groaning into you, pace a bit wilder as he mimics your behavior. he's got a hand slid up your neck and into your hair as the other holds your waist down, no longer allowing you to move the way you had before as his thrusts proceed.

you're squelching around him, moaning prettily and growing louder by the second until nanami shifts slightly, sitting up straighter and holding you still as he fucks up into you.

he's rougher, as you had physically and verbally requested of him. while this isn't the first time he's handled you a bit harder, it's the first time you feel the weight of his tip bruise your insides with his position, his speed, and his access.

you gasp, breath hitching in your throat as pleasure rather quickly transitions into discomfort, and you squirm. you want to take it, you love taking him so much, but the longer he pulls you further into the harsh push of his dick into your cervix, the more painful it begins to feel.

you grip into nanami's hair, squeezing the muscles in your face as you breathe out heavily. it only takes a few more thrusts that slam into you way too harshly before you tap against his back.

"ah- ken, ken, hold on- mm- yellow!"

nanami stops even before the word leaves your mouth, pulling you off of him with haste as you wince. he sets you back down on his thighs, and you can feel his length twitching against your ass as he looks over you with pinched brows.

he looks so pretty, still thoroughly consumed with lust, captured by worry for your well-being. his hands remain on your waist as he looks over you sternly. "tell me where sweetheart. how did i hurt you?"

you already feel bad as your walls clench around nothing, rather disappointed in yourself. you tremble slightly, looking down. "sorry- i just... it just started hurting for a sec."

"i was going too roughly?" he asks you for clarification, warm brown hues of care looking up at you. he looks torn, devastated that he had broken the one promise he had made to himself about harming you in such a vulnerable state.

"it wasn't you, ken, i didn't think it would hurt that much," you say dejectedly, a tad woozy from the way you had just been handled. it wasn't as though you didn't enjoy it, your body had just reacted differently and reminded you of your limits with taking ken in such a way.

"of course it was me, honey, i'm not sure what you mean," he says softly, his thumb smoothing over your spine. "i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i never meant to hurt you. i must have allowed myself to get too worked up."

"it's okay, ken," you shush him, taking his face gently in your hands. he gazes at you, frustrated with himself but eyes so full of love for you, the darkness in his eyes still swimming about. "you always tell me to reel it in, but you just make me feel so good. i always want more of you. i pushed a little too hard."

"honey," nanami begins, taking one of your wrists in his veiny hand and turning to press a kiss to your palm. "i still would never blame you in this situation. i know better. i apologize sincerely. how badly does it hurt?"

"...it's not that bad, ken. it was just a sting."

"it doesn't matter," he shakes his head. "i think that's enough intimacy for today. i can not stand the thought of hurting you any further."

you give him a sad look. "but it wasn't all your fault, ken," you frown.

nanami smiles at you softly and leans in to press a long, gentle kiss to your lips. he pulls away from you and meets your gorgeous eyes. "i love you, sweetheart," he declares so warmly, so honestly and you return the sentiment without a second thought, heart thrumming.

"i love you more."

"let me run a bath for you, okay? then after, we can relax and order some food. i can give you a nice massage, too. how does that sound?"

"...can i massage you too?"

nanami laughs slightly. "darling, i'm not the one who got hurt."

"i don't care. i wanna help you relax too. you always have so much tension."

"i'm relaxed any time i'm with you. and you certainly were helping me relax a few minutes ago. perhaps, a bit too much."

you pout and he kisses you again, his soft lips warm and enticing against your own. "ken," you murmur against his lips as he draws himself back, rubbing his palm over your spine and sliding your shirt back down from its scrunched state.

"yes, my love?"

"i still want you."

he gives you a firm, warning look. "(y/n), i said that's enough. you need to rest a bit. you just said that you have the tendency to push yourself when it comes to sex."

"i know, but," you push your bottom lip out and lean back up against his chest, arms draping over his shoulders again. "it doesn't have to be sex. you can just... eat me out."

you feel nanami's chest stutter against you as he breathes out heavily. "you're playing a dangerous game, you know that?"

"please?" you beg, dragging your nose against his neck. "you're always gentle. and it feels so good... all you have to do is hold me down, i won't get hurt in any way with your tongue on me, i swear."

a groan rumbles in nanami's chest and you can feel his dick twitch back to life against you. you smile lazily, leaning back to look him in the eye. "pleaseee?"

"only if you behave," he accepts, raising his brows. "i'm serious. i will go the pace i want to go, and you'll take it. slowly."

you bite the inside of your lip and nod, a pretty smile gracing your face. nanami hums, curving his hand over the back of your head and bringing you to his lips again.

"what am i going to do with you?"

choso kamo:

your brown-haired boyfriend is new to a plethora of human emotions and habits, yet sex is one thing he adjusts to rather eagerly and skillfully thanks to your influence.

choso is ever so inquisitive, seeking to explore every part of you so that he can ingrain your body and its incredible functions into his mind, so he can adapt, so he can improve, and you can confidently say that he proceeds to do so with each passing moment he studies, loves, and cares for you.

choso gets pretty flustered by you easily. you introduce him to not only a world of your love and affection, but a world of vulnerability, pleasure, and sensual exploration. he learns fast, the goal of making you happy driving him forward into picking up on the things you show him incredibly swiftly.

he's so handsy with you, unsure of how to properly convey all that you make him feel so he frequently clobbers you, enveloping you, consuming you in a needy daze, repetitively chanting about how he loves you and how beautiful you are, and how amazing you make him feel, how he never wants to let you go. he's pathetically obsessed with you, longing for your touch at any given moment yet he always allows you to initiate your intimacy first before he completely drowns in you. he's still working on managing himself around you as well as his own urges to refrain from acting out of line, being too forward, or misreading situations. he wants to be perfect for you, and never in your relationship does choso ever want to misstep or misread what you want.

getting him to vocalize when and how he wants you is one thing, but once you've started, sending him a text about how you need him, or running your hand down his thigh a little closer to his crotch underneath the table, or giving him that certain look in your eye that can only mean one thing, then he's completely and utterly unraveling at the very second you give him the green light.

choso's sloppy and uncoordinated but it doesn't matter and he doesn't care because all he's after is you, and when he has you, his brain goes numb, his hands, his dick, his everything are acting with a mind of their own.

the two of you are hot gasps and nasty sloppy noises as the purple eyed man above you pleads for you, though you're right there, aching for more until he can't even breathe.

you think choso is so beautiful like this, lips parted and brows curled as though he's going to cry from the euphoria. his brown hair falls over his shoulders and sticks to his forehead, free from the updo that he always wears, and for someone who can manipulate the blood in his body, he is beet red in the face as he watches the way he disappears into you.

choso would never hurt you. not in a million years. he would die before he hurt you, standing in front of oncoming traffic and sacrificing himself for the sake of your life.

therefore, when his crooked fingers are rocketing into your sopping walls as you cream over and over on his three digits, his lips slurping over your clit with your fingers lace into his hair and tugging at his scalp, he doesn't expect you to stop him.

he's only thinking of how you taste so sweet on his tongue, how your gorgeous pussy makes that squelching noise the deeper he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, and god, the way his dick twitches every time you pull at his hair- he can hardly tell if you're trying to yank him away or to pull him closer at this point, but he's not even thinking about that. he's not thinking at all.

he’s groaning and humming into you, whining in between breaths about how he just can’t get enough, but his fingers are beginning to thrust too fast, too far inside of your walls.

his noises shift between guttural, deep growls and shaky, heavy-pitched breaths. though you love every sound, you begin to feel yourself rejecting the feeling as it grows far too swift, too hard, too overpowering.

"c-cho," you whimper, your thighs moving to push you away, but he keeps you down with his free forearm to your lower abdomen. "baby, i c-can't- ah!"

his noises rise over your pleads and he doesn't stop, and you can feel an uncomfortable knot building in your stomach in addition to the ache inside you. you wince, the overlapping sensations proving to be way too much at once.

your hand pushes at his forehead rather harshly. "cho-! ngh- pinaepple!"

choso's brows twitch as he processes what you just said, his mind still not completely comprehending, but after a second or two, he rips himself away as though he's burned you.

panic swirls in his violet eyes, his saliva and your slick shining over his chin up to his nose. he looks up at you over your thighs, but you don't see because you're leaning your head back in relief and breathing heavily.

"did you just say your safeword?" he asks in a rush, ensuring that he has registered your words properly.

you nod stiffly, furrowing your brows. "y-yeah, m'sorry," you breathe. "i couldn't take anymore."

choso's pupils shrink as though you've just told him that all life is ending as you know it. his heart hammers through his chest, and he instantly peels away from your now cold sex to swipe his fingers on the bed, ridding himself of any reminder that he has pushed you too much.

he crawls up to see your face, caging his arms over you. his muscles tense as he looks over your expression, brows knitted and eyes glossy. you eventually open your eyes again, having sensed his presence over you.

"(y/n), i'm sorry," he apologizes so earnestly like it's the very last thing he'll ever say to you. he's suddenly deadly serious, firm, and ashamed of himself. "you've never used our word before. i... i didn't realize what i was doing to you."

"cho," you say his name softly. he tilts his head further down to you, his brows curling in sadness. "it's okay, baby. stuff like this happens."

"what do you mean?" he frowns, hand coming over your cheek the moment yours lifts to hold his. "this has never happened to us before. i'm not sure how i let it, either."

"i just mean in general," you clarify softly. you can feel your eyes growing heavier and your speech slurring. choso notices as well, keeping his hand on your face so that you remain with him, cognizant of his gaze and his touch.

"this has happened to you before?" he asks, slightly horrified and simultaneously agitated by the very idea. "when? with who?"

"baby, i'm trying to tell you mistakes happen," you laugh softly. "no, this hasn't happened to me before, but i'm saying we have a safe word for a reason for when these things do happen."

"oh," he murmurs. "but i never wanted you to actually have to use it..."

"well, how else would we learn about each other if we didn't run into things like this?" you smile warmly at him. choso's face blooms with further heat, humming to himself as he looks at you.

"tell me."

"tell you what?"

"tell me exactly what it was that i did. i'll be sure not to make the same mistake twice. i swear. i'm so sorry for hurting you," he declares, determined.

"it wasn't that bad, love," you assure him.

"i still want to know. i need to know."

"it was just the way you were using your fingers, and i was already super sensitive."

"...so, you don't want me to use my fingers on you anymore?"

"oh, god, no," you say, and you can see choso visibly relax.

"oh... okay, good. i would have stopped if you wanted me to, but i was hoping that wasn't it. i love fingering you."

your tired smile spreads as you lift your other hand to curl into his hair, scratching gently. his lashes flutter, heavy eyes matching your own. "i love when you finger me too, cho. just maybe next time, be gentler... only because you'd already made me cum so much. my body was just tired and i don't think it could keep up anymore."

he nods, taking in every word you say. "i understand. that makes sense, i'm sorry. i should have checked on you and asked."

"it's okay, baby, you don't have to keep apologizing."

"but i just can't stomach that i-"

"it's. okay," you whisper slowly, pulling him down to meet your lips with his in a delicate peck where you can smell yourself on his breath.

he sighs when you pull away, face twisted irritably. "are you sure, baby? you're not just saying that?"

"of course," you say softly. "it was just one little thing. that's all. i'm okay."

choso almost looks reluctant to accept your dismissal of the situation. he somehow feels like he needs to be reprimanded more for it, and you can tell simply by the way he stares at you.

"cho," you giggle. "stop, i told you i'm fine."

"i know. you're too sweet to me, (y/n)," he murmurs. "i wanna make it up to you. can i? is there anything i can do to make you feel better? please tell me."

you swoon internally at just how much cares. "can you just cuddle me please?"

"yes. absolutely, yes."

the brunette moves to kiss your forehead, then helps ease your legs over so that you are settled comfortably over the bed. before he lays down, he is reminded of the dampness beneath you, coating your inner thighs and creeping up to your belly button.

"love, do you have a towel?" he asks you gently as you start to curl over to him. "i need to clean you up, don't i? i made kind of a mess."

"later, cho," you mumble tugging at his bicep. "just want to be close to you right now."

he's torn momentarily. he's always quick to cater to what you ask of him, to just silently yet happily comply with whatever you need, but he knows that the second he gathers you in his arms, sleep is going to take over the both of you as it normally does after sex. the last thing he wants is for you to be laying in a sticky pool of your own arousal. he imagines you waking up uncomfortable, and it doesn't sit well with him.

"hold on a minute," he tells you. you look up curiously as he kisses your cheek and slides his arm slowly from you to stand. your hand slips into his before you release him reluctantly.

"cho?" you call him with big eyes, and the brunette almost gives in right there.

"just one more second. i remember us always doing this, and i don't want to neglect you now."

"...but-"

"one second. i promise, love."

you sigh and accept it. the moment you say okay, choso is practically sprinting to your bathroom and back with a towel. you can't help but smile gently as he hurriedly, yet gently, cleans you dry, holding your legs in his palm and easing them to the side when he's done.

"do you have to pee?" he asks you rather bluntly, gazing up at you as he folds the towel and places it on the ground.

you groan at the thought. "yeah, but i don't feel like it."

"that's okay. i'll take you."

"to pee?" you quirk a brow.

"yes?" he answers as though you questioning the thought is absurd. "i don't want you to go yourself. you're tired."

"yeah, but then that means you'll just be listening to me."

"(y/n), i've seen every part of you. i don't care about watching you pee."

"why would you want to hear or watch me in the first place?" you whine.

"to make sure it doesn't hurt you when you do."

"cho, baby, you did not hurt me that bad. oh my god," you run a hand over your face and shake your head with your laughter.

"i just want to make sure you're alright. i can close my eyes if it helps," he says stubbornly, leaning down to gather you slowly into his arms. your arms go to wrap over his neck as he lifts you up and walks you off.

"it's honestly fine whatever you do, cho, i just think it's a little funny."

"to worry?"

"nooo," you sigh, knocking your head against his shoulder. "nevermind."

choso responds with a peck to your head before sitting you down in the restroom. once the both of you are settled, you're back in bed under the covers. choso holds you with your back to his chest, palming soothingly over your abdomen as you drift off to sleep with the feeling of his chest rising and falling against you.

"(y/n)," cho's voice rumbles into you. you hum contentedly half asleep, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "thank you for being honest with me. i love you. i love you so much."

"mmm. i love you too, cho. thank you for always listening to me."

toji fushiguro:

toji, mentally and physically, can not get enough of you, especially after long stressful days on the job. when he comes home from work and is greeted by the sight of your pretty face after having had guns pointed at his head, blood spilling on his face, and the weight of exhaustion and sore muscles hanging on his back, seeing you is like seeing the gates of heaven after death.

the assassin is always so quick to fall over you, pressing you to him and smothering you in long, deep, hot kisses as he walks you back or picks you up to carry you to your bedroom, or to the shower, or hell, even to the countertop in the kitchen.

toji fucking loves being inside you. he loves tasting you on his lips, feeling you clench around his fingers, watching you squeeze over his heavy cock as he sinks into you with a guttural groan and a devilish smirk. he loves the way your soft skin feels beneath his calloused hands, he loves licking the salty-sweet sweat from your neck as you toss your head back, he loves the sound of your pussy gushing around him with each slow stroke that inevitably transitions into ruthless pounding.

god, he loves fucking you as much as he loves you, and the moment he's got you in his arms with a week of stress pent up within his chest, he's pouring all if it straight into the way he fucks you, and he gets lost in the euphoria that is you.

you're such a pretty thing beneath him, so small compared to his bulking frame, and he is obsessed with it. one second, he's stroking in leisurely, absorbing every second of the way he slides his girth between your gummy walls, soaking up the way you greedily drag him back in with each thrust. and the next, you're in a mating press and he's grunting into your mouth through a sloppy lip lock, slamming in rhythmically, stilling his cock inside you for a second longer each time so that you can feel just had deep he is, just how deliciously he's stretching you open. hell, he doesn't even know when or how it happens. he just knows that you have him whipped, and his stress melts away with each drag of his seed he pumps into you after the umpteenth round.

"fuckin' hell, doll, keep drainin' my cock just like that. thaaaaat's it, pretty baby- hah, fuck- take me so deep inside this perfect lil' pussy..."

toji has always been well aware of the size difference between the two of you. he's always been a freakishly large man, and that fact of course applies to the generous width of the monster he carries between his legs. he knows you struggle at times when he has to take a good minute or two to help you relax as he eases himself into you while you whine, that his size can be a bit overwhelming, but you've accustomed to him so well that he completely forgets about how much stronger, heavier, and bigger he is- especially so when he is stressed.

he is, however, unfortunately, reminded after he has curled your lower half up from the bed with your legs over his shoulder. your knees are hovering by your ears as he plants himself over you with his feet on the bed, holding onto your hips and pounding himself down into you almost vertically, keeping you flush against his torso.

his day had been particularly long and grueling, and the job he had been on took far longer than expected just for his client to argue with him about some bullshit once he had finished. toji's irritated, and he's fucking you like he is.

normally you don't have much of a problem with that, but this position he's got you in has you widening your eyes and practically screaming. he's too deep, pushing in too hard, and this angle gives you no room to squirm away or for his dick to angle anywhere but straight into your guts. it hurts, and his face is tense with blazing jade irises of fury, fingers digging into your skin bruisingly, and he's on the verge of going impossibly harder.

you choke, scrunching your face and moving to press against him. when he starts to reach for your hand and pin it down, you shout.

"orange!" you cry. "stop, toji, orange!"

he instantly stills, face falling as he stares down at you in shock. "oh shit, baby, for real?"

you nod quickly with a tight face and he's retracting within seconds, pulling out carefully and bringing your legs back down to the mattress.

"fuck, alright," he says, climbing over you and pulling you down gently. "sorry, baby, was it the angle?"

you don't say much, only nod again as you fight the tears that prick the corners of your eyes. you keep your eyes closed and toji wraps you up, laying back on his side and pulling you into his chest. he feels your legs twitching against his and your shoulders shaking as he holds you, and remorse floods his chest. "talk to me."

"w-was too deep, toji," you shudder, whispering shakily into him. "s'big, and that angle- it hurt."

toji's heart clenches as he holds you tighter around your shoulders. he kisses your forehead, pressing his lips to your hair. "i didn't realize, baby, i'm sorry."

"i told you it was too much..."

"i know, doll, but i didn't think you meant it. you usually don't."

"s'why i said... the word."

"yeah, you did. you did exactly what you were supposed to. good girl, doll," he praises, rubbing over your back slowly. he's never seen you look so pained in such an intimate space with you. the way your brows were pinched angrily when he looked up, the way your teeth bared in a soft grimace, the way you pushed against him and wanted him to get off, it breaks his heart. he feels like a complete piece of shit, especially so because he didn't notice until your safeword came flying out of your mouth.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes again. "i should've been payin' attention. i had a bad day... fuck, sorry."

you can tell he's remorseful, and that combined with the fact that you've been fucked stupid for the past hour and a half has you shaking your head against him forgivingly, head dizzy as you finally take a moment to collect yourself. "it's okay," you mumble into his neck lightly.

"it's not, doll. it ain't even fun or sex anymore if i'm hurtin' you," he frowns. you make a soft noise but don't respond to him verbally. toji looks down at you, gently lifting your head to catch the fuzzy look in your eye. "you hearin' me? you okay?"

you nod dumbly, a hint of unease pinching your brows when your legs twitch again and the ache in your core throbs. you burrow your face in toji's neck and he sighs.

"i gotta get you cleaned up, doll. then i'll make up for it."

"wait," you mumble the moment you feel him pulling away. he stops as you cling to him, peering up at him through sleepy lashes. "don't go."

"i'm just gettin' you a towel. i'll be right back."

you look at him sadly once he has completely torn away from you and stood at the edge of the bed. he watches the way you bring your knees to your chest and look up at him with sleepy, desperate eyes. toji exhales, tilting his head.

"you want me to take you with me?"

"yes..."

he allows himself to smile lightly in amusement. "alright, but you're not walkin' anywhere, you understand?"

he leans down and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. he hoists you up cautiously by your bum, allowing you to wrap your legs around his torso. you cringe slightly at the action, your legs burning after having endured such exertion, and toji can feel you shift against him as he holds you with one arm by your waist.

"that's not comfortable, is it?" he turns to your face, but it has already disappeared into his neck. you don't respond and toji exhales at the stubborn clinginess that you resort to in this fucked out state at the cost of your comfort.

he aids you by holding one of your thighs gently as he walks to your bathroom to retrieve the things he needs. with one hand holding you and the other gripping some cloths, he carries you back into your room and sets you softly onto your back on the cushions.

he gently unwinds your legs from around him and kneels on the bed beside you. he ducks down to kiss you softly, and you hum in satisfaction against him before he pulls away, stroking your forehead.

"close your eyes, doll. let me take care of ya."

a warm rag runs over your body, wiping over dark hickeys and lines of sweat. his lips follow in the cloth's wake, kissing over any part of you that he deems he has treated too roughly in his haste to relieve himself of stress.

he reaches your thighs, where the most pain resides, and presses his lips to them softly. his fingers run over your calves, up the sides of your plush flesh and he proceeds to pepper kisses between your legs, swiping the cloth over your damp entrance tentatively, keeping his eyes on your face to ensure that he isn't further harming you. you do jerk slightly, but that is the extent of your physical reaction.

"i got you, don't worry."

the second you feel the cloth leave you, toji's hands are pulling you up again, moving you around so that he can lay flat on his back beside you. you open your eyes, watching him curiously.

"come lay on me, baby," he guides you by your arm.

you do as he says, easing yourself chest-first onto of him and allowing your body to sink into his heat. his hands come over you and his palms work into the knots in your lower back, over your bum, and in your shoulder blades. he kneads into the balls of tightness, rolling over and rubbing them through lazily.

your eyes flutter at the relieving sensation, the green-eyed man's rough hands smoothing to rid your body of excess tension. "there you go," he kisses your shoulder. "i'll make you feel better, i promise. no more pain for my girl."

"love you, toj," you whisper sleepily into his skin.

"love you too. i'm sorry for hurtin' you. i'll be more careful."

ryomen sukuna: you know sukuna to be rough in all aspects of his life, and that certainly does not change when it comes to the two of you having sex- in fact, that very trait of his is enhanced. the moment he slips inside of you, he's pushing your head face first into the pillows, gripping your waist or your thighs or your throat with his large palms as to prevent you from running away, spitting into your mouth, fisting your hair, leaving red bite marks in his wake, anything he possibly can to remind you that you are his to devour whole.

you've always enjoyed the way he tosses you around or fucks you over the velvet pad of his throne, or holds you almost violently by the thighs in the air and spears you down on his ungodly thick cock while sitting at the edge of your bed with his feet planted into the floor. he knows he's not gentle with you, but aggression is the only way he knows to take you by, to show you how much you drive him fucking crazy, to bask in your enchanting screeches and your doll-like, hazy expressions.

and like the good girl he knows you to be, you take him every single time, and it spurs him on. it encourages him to plow harder, to grip tighter, to render you completely immobile beneath him as he ruts himself into you like it's the end of the fucking world and the only way for him to survive is to fuck you like a worthless whore, though you're nothing close to one.

while he always leaves you in a pool of your mixed fluids on the verge of losing consciousness, shaking like a leaf kissed by the breeze, you've never expressed an inability or refusal to handle him. you take him so well for a human, and sukuna's captivated by your strength, your insatiable desire when he's bullying his dick into your swollen cunt. while you get overstimulated, or hell even beg him to go slower or softer, he knows you don't really want him to stop because you haven't uttered the one word that he told you to reserve only for the times you feel you are beyond discomfort.

that is, until a few seconds ago, when the muffled word rips from your hoarse throat through the ball of your panties he's stuffed into your mouth.

sukuna's on top of you, pressing his heavy weight over your back with his arms wrapped under your frame and his thighs crushing in on your on. you're on your stomach, tears dribbling from your eyes and down your face as sukuna finally stills inside you after having thrusted painfully into your cervix over and over. he's so deep inside you, and he wants you to feel. he wanted to see how much further he could break you in, but clearly, he had mistakenly forgotten that you are still fragile.

the king of curses' eyes go wide, and he rips an arm from under you to tear the gag from your mouth. you heave out a sob, face falling into the pillows as you murmur your safeword again, a string of practically unintelligible spent moans that only sukuna can understand because he's never heard you utter that word before.

"red, red, red," you snivel, and sukuna's face relaxes.

"i heard you," he murmurs gruffly. "give me a moment."

you whine as your entire body collapses with the withdrawal of sukuna's arms from your body. he sighs heavily, looking over your marked skin as he smoothes a hand up your spine. you flinch with a whimper, and he clicks his teeth.

"this is what happens when you grow cocky."

"h-hurts, kuna. too hard," he thinks he hears you simper.

"never heard you say that before," he murmurs. "know your limits, woman."

he slowly eases himself out of your warmth with a clenched jaw and angled brows, watching your arousal gush onto the sheets the moment he's pulled back. you jump and curl further up into the pillow.

"oh my, how far have i taken you this time?" he hums, watching as you squirm under even the slightest touch he gives.

"ryooo," you whine.

"alright, alright," he comes back down over your limp body, curling his fingers over your forehead to pull your face up and gently brush your sweaty hair away. your eyes are closed as he turns inward to look over you, caressing your damp cheek softly. you're so warm, so shaky beneath him. your brows are pinched together in pain and exhaustion, and your lips are wobbling. hell, he's never seen you look so weak before.

"hey," he coaxes gently, voice rumbling tenderly against your back through his toned abdominals. you're releasing a series of trembles, broken hums, likely unsure of where you even are, and sukuna curses internally. he softens. "what do you need, peach?" he asks you in a low whisper.

your response is near incomprehensible, but sukuna is already thinking and moving before you even open your mouth. he exhales heavily and presses himself back up so that he can stand and gather you in his arms. you whimper when he goes to delicately flip you over.

"relax," he orders softly, smearing the wetness away from your cheek and smoothing his hands over your heated skin. you obey him to the best of your ability as he pulls you up.

as though it is muscle memory, you lean into his bare chest once he is holding you bridal style. you continue to tremble, and sukuna's crimson eyes roam your body carefully. he's truly done a number on you this time.

normally when it came to baths, sukuna would have one of his servants or uraume run them for you, but instead, he feels the need to take the duty on himself as he carries you into your large connected restroom. he sets you down within the inhumanly large royal tub slowly, and the moment he pulls from you, you reach for him lazily in retort as your head rolls back against the rim.

"be patient, i am not going anywhere."

he reaches to turn on the faucet as hot water streams around your feet. he's hasty with his movements, focused, knowing that you do not desire to be cold in this moment. he stands to retrieve the oils and soaps he's purchased solely for your pleasure and sits back down beside the tub.

"open your eyes," he reaches in to cradle your chin. you scrunch your lids and tilt your head to him, peeling your blurry eyes on his command. "lavender or peppermint. pick one."

your eyes weakly drift to the array of bottoms lined on the ledge. "lavender," you request tiredly.

your voice is so small, so light, a heady contrast to the way you normally challenge him with your playful tone. sukuna looks at you momentarily, soaking in your sweet mellow state, before retrieving the said bottle and pouring it into the rising steamy water.

he keeps a hand on your shoulder, rubbing over a bite mark with his thumb, as bubbles, soothing fragrances, and petals fall into the tub one by one. the hot water crowds over your bare skin, alleviating the dull ache between your legs and the stings of the marks on your skin.

sukuna holds an intense look of focus, swishing his arm around the water to ensure that all the properties he has included mix together well. you watch him, dazed, cheek propped against the porcelain with heavy (e/c) eyes studying his attentiveness. he feels your eyes on him, but only raises a brow at you once the bath is finished.

you truly aren't all there.

sukuna rises to his feet, slipping his arms behind you and under your own to hold you up as he steps inside with you.

you let him manuever you, your body too exhausted to dare to try to move. he pulls you flush against his chest, his thighs crowding over your own. you sigh out, leaning your head back against his shoulder as he brings a cloth over you, washing away remnants of spit and cum, massaging into the aches of your body wordlessly.

his chin comes down over your shoulder while his hands wind over your waist to stroke your legs. his fingers dance gently over your inner thighs, up your abdomen, ghosting over your neck. he's everywhere, and for the first time, in a supple, tender way, as though he is polishing glass that he does not wish to break.

you're humming, breathing steadily, chest rising deeply and slowly. sukuna's hands curve to smooth over your tits, and you flinch, leading him to smirk lightly. "sensitive, are we?" you pout, brows curling, and he turns his lips to your neck. "calm down, brat, i'm not going to push you. keep still."

his palms work over the sore plush of your breasts and you melt, arching into him as he massages over you with such care. a weak moan threatens to escape you and sukuna shakes his head. "do not. that is what led you here in the first place."

his hands release your tits and follow the curve of your body downward once more. he continues his massaging and caressing of your body until you're no longer twitching.

his hands fall over your hips, smoothing over your stomach. he lifts up slightly to look down at you. "are you still in pain?"

you take a moment to respond, but eventually, your eyes open again and they meet sukuna's lax gaze. despite the permanent angle of his brows, he appears calm before you, mutely compassionate.

you lean against him, holding his gaze, and shake your head slightly, a bit of your senses slowly returning. "only a little between my legs," you murmur.

he hums. "and how would you expect me to tend to this pain?"

you don't say anything, but the soft glint in your eye speaks for you as sukuna's hand slowly trails down your stomach and past your clit lightly. you inhale sharply, still thoroughly sensitive.

sukuna's eyes look over the whole of your face. "do you wish me to massage your sore cunt from the inside? is that what you so desire?"

you moan out a gentle sigh, heavy lids falling over your eyes in a blink as you nod helplessly against him. "slowly..." you murmur.

"you are insatiable," he mumbles lowly. his fingers ghost over the lips of your pussy, circling them gently before sinking past and sliding into your warm walls.

your mouth parts and your head knocks back as sukuna watches you closely. the water swishes around your legs as you move, sukuna's lips crushing slowly over your mouth.

"i suppose i can assist as a reward for you speaking up."

[satoruhour]

You and Gojo making out around Suguru’s dick. 🙏

TWICE THE TROUBLE !

a/n: sorry i took so long to get to this anon i hope this finds its way back to you <3

warnings: poly!stsg, dom!geto, sorta sub!gojo, fem!reader, oral (f and m receiving), masturbation, suguru watches for a while, multiple rounds, use of ‘slut’, cum eating, cum shot, filthy and dirty as hell lol, n*sfw under the cut

it’s no secret that geto absolutely adored the both of you — whether it be looking at you bickering over whether maple syrup or honey is better for pancakes, or when he’s watching the two of you deep in slumber after getting out to get groceries at dawn to beat the morning crowd. it’s hardly different any other time, too much deep in adoration for his two babies that even fights are done with calculated voices and soft apologies.

and even now — watching how satoru whines for attention from the both of you, pulling gently at your nape to separate your lips from geto. you can feel the latter throb under you when gojo leaps forward to kiss you while you’re still in the other’s lap, feeling his hand leave your waist to trace the line down satoru’s back and right to his ass.

“sugu—” you hear against your lips, moaning something akin to your name after when your hands pull at satoru’s white hair shortly after, “n-need both of you . .”

“patience, satoru,” geto practically purrs, purposely humping his hips up into your cunt that you whine softly, too, grinning at how he’s always got the two of you at his beck and call. he runs the show indefinitely, and you’re both fine with it, heart fluttering when he asks for a favour.

“can you eat her out, baby?” he pleads with gojo, not before leaving you with a sweet kiss that leaves you wanting more and gently detaches himself from you, “let me watch my two pretty lovers, hm?”

you giggle a little at gojo’s eagerness when he nods and takes his place in front of you instead, rushing into a kiss that has you clashing teeth and groaning in pain, but with a small sorry from gojo and kisses down your neck, you’re forgiving him instantly when he finally peels off your soaked panties, groaning to himself at just how wet you were.

at the corner of your eye, you can see suguru stripping himself of his own underwear, stroking slowly at how gojo forces your sensitive legs open to lick a slow stripe up your cunt.

“’toru—” you shut your eyes tight, head tipped back as you put all your weight into your elbows, body naturally crawling away from the other’s skilled tongue from the intensity but satoru takes his time with you, easing you into the pleasure with how slowly he tugs you back to him.

“relax, princess . .” he mumbles, feeling himself get hard just from hearing geto’s hand along his cock, and now, at how he gets to eat your pretty pussy, “let me in, yeah?”

you moan softly just as he sucks on your clit, one hand reaching for his hair and the other for geto’s hand, him barely catching you just as you dig your nails into his forearm, dominant hand stuttering at little at the minor pain. gojo mutters praises into your cunt, slurping up your juices like it’s the very first time he’s eating you out.

“satoru— s’too much—” you writhe within the sheets, rendered warm from the morning sun that filters in and you can already feel your back start to line with sweat at the ecstasy, your boyfriend never stopping his relentless tongue flicking and sucking at your bud.

your other boyfriend watches in amusement and fondness at the two of you; the drop of your mouth and the twitches in your leg, to the subtle humping of satoru’s hips and his downturned eyebrows. satoru is just lost in your pre, making sure every bit of it isn’t lost to the silk sheets that he so impulsively bought for the both of you.

you gasp when your knees are pushed to your chest, left immobilised under gojo’s hand as he loses himself in your folds, tracing his tongue down your slit and right to your hole.

he makes sure to give you what you want when you only pull him more desperately into your core with moans that reach the moon. you’re grateful that at least suguru squeezes and twines his fingers with yours, watching with that damned smile on his face at your falling apart.

“’toru, sugu, i-it’s— i’m c—”

geto laughs, “so fast, doll?”

you burn at the small teasing remark, clenching around satoru’s tongue at the same time and he groans, nudging his nose deeper into your clit. with small jerks in your body and long whines that turn into short pants, they both know you’re close. the other speeds his hand up as well, following gojo’s noisy, sloppy licks along your pussy.

“pussy so sweet, suguru, hope ya can taste her later,” his muffled speech gets the other chuckling, even more so when they see their pretty baby all ruined over their sheets, their groans mixing in with your garbled speech, just whimpering and mumbling any word your foggy brain can think about at the moment.

“yeah? lookin’ forward to it, then.” geto struggles through gritted teeth at the feel of his hand — it would never compare to the both of you, but it’s all he can manage. he did say he wanted to watch and he’s enjoying gojo’s hips humping the sheets now as he focuses on your puffy, sensitive clit.

“she close, ’toru?” gojo’s affirmative moan sends vibrations up your body, sending you into overdrive when geto leans down to meet your lips, releasing your hand to your chin gently to steal your breath. it’s rough, drool dripping from the messiness of it and the other willingly swallows your sounds, tipping over the edge just as satoru lays his tongue flat along your cunt.

“mm fuckkk—, s-shit, satoru—!” you cry into suguru’s skin, wrapping fingers around his wrist for some anchor as you gush all over your other lover’s mouth, coating his face with cum. geto’s lips part as he watches the both of you, filling his ears with your high-pitched mewls against satoru’s deeper moans that he spills with your names on his lips, filling his hand with his cum.

but the dark-haired man isn’t done, oh, no, and you both sure as hell aren’t either with the way you don’t hesitate to bring his other hand to your lips to clean it, scooping all of his cum onto your tongue.

“dirty slut,” he whispers, relishing in how you start to suck on his fingers. and then he’s blessed with the both of you tugging on his arms so he’d be on the edge of the bed, seemingly an arrangement you two agreed on. it’s obvious that you two definitely had a little talk about this when he switches between both you and satoru kneeling on the ground, tongues out and waiting.

“oh . . darlings,” geto coos, stroking his cock lazily. you’re the first to wrap your lips around his tip, suckling as he shivers at your warm mouth. but it’s not long until you’re taking it out and bringing gojo’s head closer, slapping geto’s sensitive cock on the other’s tongue. the scene sends immediate thrills down to your core, pulsating and throbbing under you.

suguru groans at the sight, his two pretty lovers using him however which way; gojo bobs his head along his boyfriend’s cock, pressing his tongue against the base of his shaft while you aid him momentarily with a hand to his nape. your hands never forget his balls, squeezing and playing with them while satoru sucks him off — and then it switches again.

this little game continues on for a while, gurgling noises and wanton moans filling the room every time his cock enters one of your mouths.

it’s so different, too — you like to have saliva dripping everywhere, a sloppy blowjob with his tip touching the back of your throat and your nose buried in his pubes. satoru likes consistency, stroking the parts he can’t reach and bobbing his head obediently and making sure he looks up at him with those blue, blue eyes of his.

“oh, baby, baby, shiiit . .” suguru groans out, hands clutching the sheets so tightly it might cramp, until you’re both squishing your faces together, each getting a share of his tip that’s leaking the remnants of the previous round. 

“t-that’s so hot, fuckin’ hell,” he swears when you two start to make out around his cock, equal part of lips on each other and his length that he gets twice the pleasure and the blessing of the two of you. geto slips both his hands into your hair, cradling your heads as you two slurp and suck and slobber over his throbbing dick, moaning into each other’s mouth.

there’s strings of cum that connect you both to geto, translucent white all over your lips and hands that only adds to the obscenity, your hand coming up to help stroke his cock.

satoru follows suit, larger hand engulfing yours and looking up at him through white eyelashes again, smiling to himself when he hears geto’s choked up words. he’s so hard it hurts, the mere grinding against the sheets doing nothing for him so he moves a hand between his legs, letting out soft pants.

“i’m gonna— c-cum . .” it’s even a wonder he’s held out this long, and you add fuel to the fire when you speed up your hand along his shaft, catching the glint in satoru’s eye with a giggle and sharing in the honour of being able to have geto suguru at your mercy.

your mind is muddled, the mixture of suguru’s previous load and satoru’s strawberry scented lip gloss sending you into a frenzy. under your lips, you can feel the dark-haired man twitch, you can feel gojo’s soft lips, it’s almost too much when the latter whines into your mouth. geto interrupts; “i’m g’nna give both of you my cum— haah . . ”

you’re both off him when you hear that, pleading with two sets of eyes and with outstretched tongues while your hands never stop their assault. gojo makes use of his pretty ceruleans while there’s multiple “please’s” falling from your throat, ears flooded with the wet shlick’s of your hands.

“oh my g—god . .” geto’s hands are so tight around your hair it borderline hurts, just hunching over the both of you with his eyes fighting to stay open, “fuck— i’m c-cumming—”

his pupils are blown wide when he sprays his cum over both your faces, spurting his seed all over your tongues and cheeks. the room fills with your moans at the feeling, with hand making sure you’re milking his cock for what it’s worth. suguru’s lips contain variations of your names alongside profanities, thighs shaking under him as whines escape him.

“aw, the both of you—” geto hums, fingers releasing your hair to hold your cheeks and he wished his hands weren’t so gross and sticky so he could at least make you two pose for his camera, but his jaw drops when you both turn to each other to have your lips meet again, mouth gaping as he watches his semen drip everywhere and your tongue against satoru’s — a scene of pure filthiness.

“j-just know how to treat me . .” suguru watches, dumbfounded as gojo licks his cum off your face and vice versa, before you both turn to him with grins that remind him why he likes to take the reins in the bedroom.

“and now, i’ll treat the both of you . . how’s that sound, darlings?”

[scoonsalicious]

Unstoppable

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky have bee having a LOT of sex. It's annoyed some people.

Warnings: Language, adult themes, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Just a stupid cute little drabble I came up with. Enjoy!

A cool vibranium fingertip traced the outline of your lips, along the meridian of your chin and neck, between the valley of your breasts, down to your navel and back again, leaving a trail of tingles along your skin. 

“Never gonna get tired of this view,” Bucky hummed. He was propped up on his flesh elbow, looking down on you with warm, sultry eyes.

He had just finished fucking you so well and so thoroughly on the living room rug that all you could do was sigh contentedly and smile up at him. Using what little strength you had left in you, you reached up to cup his stubbled jaw. Bucky leaned into your touch, pressing his lips to the pad of your thumb as you ran it over his plush lips.

His hair was a mess, locks going in every direction from where you had fisted your hands in it, pulling it as he had thrusted you into oblivion. In your eyes, he could never look better than he did right after he had cum inside of you.

And lately, that had been pretty much constantly. After China, he made good on his request to Tony for some time off, and the two of you had been doing your absolute damnedest to make up for all your lost time.

“You’re so pretty after you fuck,” you told him, your mouth letting out words long before your brain could determine if it was a good idea to say them. 

Bucky dropped his chin to his chest and let out a low laugh. “Thanks, sweets,” he said, leaning down to kiss you softly. “So are you. Always thought you were the prettiest thing I’d ever seen, from the moment I first saw you.”

“The very first moment you saw me?” you asked him with a smile. “Cause I’m pretty sure I had a gun pointed at you the very first time.”

Bucky chuckled as he lowered himself down to lay next to you, his forehead pressed against your temple. “Honestly, I wondered if you even remembered that. We never talked about it.”

“Well, if it helps, had I known you gave such good dick, I never would have pulled the trigger.” 

Bucky laughed and wrapped his forearm across your breasts, pulling you closer to him. “You should have seen yourself, doll. Up on the ramp of that jet, standing up to two super soldiers all by your lonesome? You were a vision; it was hot as fuck.”

You rolled your eyes and swatted at his arm. “Sure it was, Buck.”

He squeezed you lightly. “I’m serious, Pocket. You were out-muscled and out-numbered, but you held your ground, and you were sassy as fuck to Steve in the process.”

“Yeah, and got rendered unconscious for my efforts,” you said with a sad smile, remembering how Steve had knocked you out so he and Bucky could steal the Quinjet. “It all worked out, though, in the end,” you added as you snuggled up against him. “It brought us to right now, so I’m thankful for it.”

You felt the firm press of Bucky’s lips to your temple. “So thankful,” he agreed. “Though, if I could go back and change things…”

“I wouldn’t,” you interjected. You turned onto your side to look him in the eye. “If there was even the slightest chance that we wouldn’t end up here, right now, just like this, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He smiled a lopsided, boyish grin at you that managed to light a fire in your core, and you reflexively rolled your hips against him. “Again, doll?” he asked with a laugh. “We’ve already been going at it for hours, but if you insist. We’ve got time before we have to go to dinner.”

“Shit!” You bolted upright and checked the time. You were scheduled to have dinner with Tony and Pepper in a little over an hour; there was no time to get caught up in another round of ‘What the ‘F’ Was It?’ with Bucky. “We need showers,” you told him as you rose to stand. Turning, you reached down a hand to help him up. “We probably stink of sex.” 

“I love it when we stink of sex,” Bucky said with a laugh as he followed you up the stairs to your master bedroom. “I like to think of it as a souvenir of time well spent.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Buck,” you said with a playful roll of your eyes, “other people don’t want to smell it on us.” You moved to your closet and began pulling out clothes to wear to dinner.

Bucky came up behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist. “We could shower together, you know,” he said, kissing your shoulder. “Save time and water. Very economical of us.”

Ugh, the man was a menace! “You know very well,” you began as you slid out of his grasp and put some safe distance between the two of you, “that if we do that, we are just going to fuck in there, and we’ll be late for dinner.” It wasn’t a theoretical concern of yours; you’d learned the hard way long ago, and after getting reamed out by Tony and Steve Rogers in front of the entire team for missing an important mission briefing, the rule ‘no shared showers if we have somewhere to be' had to be established.

You went first, seeing as it would take you longer to get ready than it would Bucky, but you were in and out in almost no time, putting on your silk robe as Bucky moved to get in. 

“Last chance to join me,” he said with a teasing wink. 

“Go clean yourself off, you filthy beast,” you laughed, playfully shoving him into the bathroom. 

He’d just started the water when you heard the unfamiliar sound of your doorbell ringing.

You padded down the steps, curiosity getting the better of you. Most of the people who visited you had the code for the private elevator and would bypass the door all together. Standing on your toes, you looked through the peephole. On the other side, rocking back and forth on the heels of their feet, stood an attractive, but anxious looking, young woman with thick, light brown hair. You’d probably put her at a handful of years younger than you, if you had to guess. 

She didn’t look like a potential threat, but you could never be too careful. “Who is it?” you called through the door.

“Um…” the woman said uncertainly, “my name’s Caity Wallace? I live in the apartment below you?”

Like a puzzle piece slotting into place, you were hit with a jolt of recognition; you’d briefly met her in the lobby around the time you’d first moved in. Opening the door, you smiled warmly. “Caity, hi. What can I do for you?”

She eyed your robe and quirked an eyebrow. “Listen,” she said anxiously, “I really didn’t want to do this, but I kinda feel like you’re not leaving me a choice anymore.”

You stared back at her, puzzlement written all over your face. “A choice in what?” you asked hesitantly.

“Could you… fuck, this is so embarrassing, but could you, I dunno, maybe… not have such… loud… sex… so often?” At the astonished look on your face, she hurried to add, “I mean, I think it’s great that you’re so… liberated, with all your guys, I’m definitely not trying to slut shame you or anything, it’s just… well, I can hear the furniture banging across the floor, and you scream a lot, and–”

“Wait,” you said, caught by something she’d said. “What do you mean ‘all my guys’? There’s just one it guy.”

Caity’s eyes got comically wide. “WHA–I mean… how?! I mean, no offense, but you’re always going at it. There’s no way one guy’s got that much stamina. To be honest, at first I thought you were filming porn up here or something.”

You ducked your head to hide your laugh. “It’s just the two of us,” you assured her. “My boyfriend and I were apart for a long time, so I guess we’re kind of in a honeymoon phase?”

Caity nodded, her eyes wide.

A floorboard squeaked somewhere behind you, and you turned to see Bucky, making his way across the living room, fresh from his shower, in only a towel. “Forgot my phone, sweets,” he said with that gorgeous lopsided grin. He noticed Caity in the doorway and froze like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh, shit!’ he muttered, ducking himself behind a pillar and out of Caity’s line of sight. He popped his head out from around the corner. “Everything alright?”

It was cute how modest he became in the presence of another person. “Yeah, baby,” you told him. “Just a visit from our downstairs neighbor, Caity. You wanna come say hello?” You smirked as he shifted uncomfortably and scowled at you.

“Maybe another time,” he said, giving you a glare at your mischievousness and an apologetic wave to Caity. “When I’m actually wearing pants. You gonna be long?”

You smiled at him. “Nah, baby. I’ll be up in a minute.” He nodded and winked at you before turning away.

Turning back to Caity, you were amused to see her eyes following Bucky as he retreated back up the stairs, her mouth slightly agape.

“I’ll make sure we tone it down from now on,” you assured her. Caity shook her head, as if you’d just snapped her out of a trance. “What?” she said, her attention now back to you. “Oh my god, girl, no. I’ll invest in some noise cancelling headphones. Get it. Get it as much as you want. As much as you can. That man’s a fucking god.”

[seattlesellie]

i’m sorry but can we PLEASE talk about thigh riding🙏 it’s so underrated

mhmmmm :(( especially if it goes from sloppy makeout sesh to desperately rutting on ellie’s thigh & especially if she hasn’t even seen you go that desperate for her yet, because let’s say it’s only been a week of you dating or messing around.

an: i don’t know why this came out longish i swear its pure horny. btw it’s gamer!ellie 🎮🎀💗

can see this whole thing starting from a stare at her practiced fingers twitching and toying with her ps controller. safe to say it’d usually be a bit tedious to simply be an observer of someone playing a video game… not with ellie though, definitely not with ellie. definitely not with the way she cusses sharply under her breath, the way her palm goes to rest against your bare thigh as she switches up her in game gear, the way that cheeky tongue pokes out of her lips in concentration… you’d be distracted to say the least, nodding dumbly as she notes “y’see how i just did that babe?”

and just because you find it hard to concentrate and ignore the thick tension, filling the room with its obnoxious buzz — doesn’t mean she has it any easier, by no means, she can just mask it better… ish. your doe eyed stares, the way you whine silently as she loses, rest your head on her firm shoulder with a cheerful “yay ellie” as she wins… keep staring at her fingers (for some reason she might or might not pick up on, you do it a lot) — you render her a blushing taut mess, render her palms sweaty and slippery on the round plasticky ball of her controller.

however she masks it, and you don’t — and now you’re staring with those sparkly eyes, and the figures on the screen begin to mush together into one giant, pixelated orb. the corner of ellie’s mouth rises up to an involuntary smirk (that asshole), and she loosens her grip on the red controller. “need something? jheez, you’re staring” murmurs ellie, still teasing you like she did before you got together — except, now she no longer needs to hide her blush with a tilting of her face, because she knows you caught her already. plus, it makes her stomach stir with butterflies. “jus’ looking at your pretty face” says you — silently, sheepishly smiling and arching your brows. it’s so much fun to be able to actually tell her that, cause y’know — that’s your girlfriend now.

ellie chuckles, throwing the controller to the side, adjusting her body from a manspreading position to sitting criss crossed on the couch. she wipes her forehead with her forearm — a sign of nervousness? you lick your glossy lip, she’s so cute.

“you’re the pretty one” ellie notes.

you cock your head to the side, fake pondering. “if i’m the pretty one, what are you then?”

truthfully you’re so cute in your pj shorts, she doesn’t think she knows who she is anymore or if her name’s actually ellie. she sighs, huffing some air out of her cinnamon freckled cheeks. “the cool one”

okay… maybe, but she’s also just awfully gorgeous. you roll your eyes, “well,” — you throw your hands and smack them on your thighs, “i think you’re just pretty” — and she thinks you’re just stubborn.

“don’t think i’m cool?” she snorts, completely ignoring the compliment once again (as it makes her cheeks grow plum red and she’s hating that right now). she signals at the flat screen with her pointer finger, “you’re gonna pretend you didn’t just see me fucking that team up? i mean…” she keeps on yapping, your smack your lips and stare at hers. you’re not pretending to do anything, it’s not your fault you’ve been ignoring the game when she’s been toying with that plastic ball like you dream she’d toy with your—

“can you kiss me?”

you’ve interrupted her completely, but it pretty much seals the deal.

the back of your neck is being pulled by her right hand, and the string of your tank top is being pulled by her left one — not to undress, simply just to bring you closer. her lips on yours feel like heaven, a small gasp released by your mouth. she hums into the kiss, then pulls away. “knew you weren’t paying attention to me” ellie murmurs and it sends shivers down your spine. her voice is husky and cocky and ugh! you almost feel the need to let her swallow you whole. “was paying attention,” you insist, blinking like you’re in panic (or letting your lashes flutter to turn her on), “just not to the game”

“yeah?” she chuckles, caressing your half covered back with slow, up and down strokes. “what were you looking at then?” she questions with a cocky grin. you so want to kiss her again. “dunno”, you shrug innocently, slightly letting your bottom lip fall down into a pout. she so wants to kiss you again — so she does, murmuring a broken sentence of “ohmmmmph — you dunno?” into the kiss.

this time, the kiss is different. she slides her tongue inside of your begging mouth, letting it swirl and twirls over yours, pull it — goddamn, suckle on it with a horny grunt. you whimper, hiccup, cry almost, desperately seeking something more… a relief, to that dull ache that’s sitting or stomping between your legs — all because of a kiss and her grunt and that controllers ball you’re so damn jealous of…

“c’mere” she huffs, but instead of letting you come there, she forcefully grabs you by your waist, making you sit atop her lap. you’re both gasping, you wanna say something, but she kisses the corner of your mouth and… “ellie” is all you can whine, she responds with a squeeze to your waist. she kisses more, planting plenty of pecks to your scorching cheek, letting out shaky breaths to each and every one of your half whimpers half moans. she reaches your neck, and her tongues out again. she licks a long stripe, a confident one, but breaks it in order to look into your eyes and ask for your consent — it’s the farthest you’ve went so far.

“babe?”, she asks, your half lidded eyes and dazed look kind of tell her all she needs to know but she’s chivalrous.

“please” you whisper, nodding then burying your face in the crook of her neck. she grunts to that — jesus how pretty you sound when you beg, you have no fucking idea. another suckle on your neck comes, this time right at your pulse point, making the hairs rise and a clit thump. you let go of a choked gasp, holding on to ellie’s shoulders as she splatters open mouthed kisses on the flesh of your neck. you grab the back of her neck, pull on her bun. “fuuhuck” she exasperates, as if she’s the one getting marked and sucked on. quickly enough, because ellie misses your lips, she kisses you again with a whole lotta tongue.

you don’t even notice when or how you started grinding and rocking on her grey sweat’s covered thigh. in too much of a daze to notice anything at this point — you searched for friction.

she notices quickly enough though (obviously).

“whatcha doing, huh?” she lets her forehead kiss yours. your eyes are fully shut — to be honest, her question sounded like gibberish and the cotton material of your shorts was so thin. you don’t respond, you just… rut. she pulls slightly away, back straightening and leaning backwards, almost as if she was watching a play at the theater. she heavily breathes, scrunches her scarred brows and takes a look — takes a stare — at the way you seem so… concentrated, and horny, pouty and needy and it’s all for her or because of her. she almost places her hands on her head and leans back to keep watching.

her muscular thigh feels good — too good, you wanna bounce on it till you cum and leave a stain on her pants, you want her to bounce you on it — her, with her hands… where are her hands?!

you break right out of your trance, embarrassingly open your eyes and search for ellie… who’s leaning back, mouth agape and eyes coal black as she flexes her thigh. there’s a mixture of pure need and humiliation inside of your gut, but the latter evaporates as she mutters the following words;

“do that again”

[reiding-writing]

Ooo please write cold!reader being a complete badass in the field and Spencer just being in love

TAKEDOWN [PART ONE]

/ˈteɪkˌdaʊn/ /part two/

Who knew watching somebody take down an unsub would cause Spencer to feel so many emotions at once?

WARNINGS: fem!reader, guns, knives, minor character injury

spencer reid x cold!reader || fluff?? || 1.6k || series masterlist!!

a/n: glad people have taken as much of a liking to cold!reader as i have 😭

main masterlist!!

“Don’t. Move.”

Having a glock levelled at the back of somebody’s head was never the best way to spend your Thursday afternoon, but alas, it is what it is.

You press the barrel into the man’s head with enough pressure for his shoulders to tense, his eyes widening as they remained fixed on Spencer and Morgan in front of him, who both had their own guns raised in his direction. “Drop the knife.”

The man raised both of his arms slowly, butterfly knife held loosely in his right hand.

“Drop it.”

You can’t see the man’s expression from where you’re standing, but if you had to wager a guess based on the flickering of Spencer’s irises you’d say he was smiling.

The way he started to let go of the knife in his hand solidified your theory.

He loosened his grip on the split handle of the knife one finger at a time, tantalisingly slowly like he was treating your threat like some kind of game.

“I said drop it.”

“Slow your roll sweetheart, I am,”

You bite the inside of your cheek at his comment, pressing the barrel of your gun harder against the back of his head. “I have a gun levelled to the back of your head, drop the knife now or I will send a bullet straight through your skull.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me,” The way he speaks down to you makes your blood boil, and you make a show of pulling the slide back, the metal making a loud clicking sound that verberated through his skull as an unused round falls onto the ground by your feet.

“Try me.”

“Alright alright,” The man laughs at your display, although you can tell by the tension in his shoulder blades that his confidence is starting to dwindle, especially when the three people pointing their guns at him turned into four as Emily joined Morgan and Spencer with her firearm raised.

The last finger he has holding the butterfly knife is his index finger, and you can see Spencer’s expression furrow with his hand tightening on the handle grip. Clearly he didn’t think that the unsub was going to surrender that easily.

You mirror the way Spencer tightens his grip as you focus your gaze on the knife in the unsub’s hand, and the way he raised his index finger excruciatingly slowly, almost rolling the knife in his hand rather than actually letting go of it.

Spencer’s apprehension was well founded it seemed, and the split-knife handle twisted around the back of the unsub’s hand before being clutched back in his palm as ducked his head and swung backwards towards you.

You pull your head backwards as he turns to stop the knife from going straight into the side of your head, grasping his wrist with your left had as you slam your right elbow down into the curve of his arm so that he’s forced to kneel or else have the bones in his arm snap under the force, the knife falling to the floor in the process.

His knees hit the floor with a loud ‘thud’, and you force his arm behind him painfully tight as his chest meets the concrete, and you again press the barrel of your gun to the back of his head, this time with the added leverage of leaning over him whilst he’s rendered defenceless on his ground with your knee planted directly on his spine.

There’s a short whistle from where your co-workers are standing once you’ve got the unsub immobilised, one that clearly came from Morgan as he walks over with his gun held loosely in his right hand and a pair of handcuffs held out towards you as they balance precariously on his left index finger. “Nice, that was hot,”

You exchange your gun for the handcuffs with a scoff at his comment. “Shut your mouth,”

You tug the unsub to his feet once he’s cuffed, passing him off to Emily so that she can escort him to the SUV with Morgan as backup just in case he tried anything.

“You uh- did a good job,” You give Spencer a small hum as acknowledgement of his comment as you pick up the butterfly knife from the floor, turning it in your hands as you stand up from your knelt position to turn your attention to Spencer.

“You’re bleeding-” His eyes widen as he catches the first full look at your face since the confrontation ended, blinking softly with his eyebrows slightly furrowed in concern.

You raise an eyebrow at his comment at first, a small stinging emanating from your cheek as you tense the muscles needed to do so, and you swipe your left hand across the apple of your right cheek, pulling it back to reveal a red stain smudged across the back of your knuckles.

You were bleeding. The unsub must’ve nicked you when he swung earlier.

“It’s fine,” You wipe your hand on the thigh of your jeans, pocketing the knife to bring it back to the station later.

“You should… Uh…” Spencer blinked a few times as he tried to formulate his words under the view of your actions, the smudge of blood left behind from your hand being joined by a fresh trickle that was slowly making it’s way down your cheek and suddenly making Spencer forget everything he knew about the English language. “You- uh- you should-”

He points lamely over his shoulder towards the ambulance on standby, hoping that his actions will save him where his words are failing.

“It’s fine Reid,” You shake your head at his suggestion, rolling your right shoulder with your left hand planted firmly at the joint.

“You really- Just in case-” Spencer continues to fumble blindly over his words as he tries to give you a reason to have your cut checked out.

“It’ll be fine,”

“Even- Even small uh.. Even small cuts and scrapes can get infected and lead to sepsis if you’re not careful-” He got a full sentence out this time. Barely. For some reason he was having a really hard time focusing under your gaze, even more so than usual.

Maybe it was the fact that he’d just watched you swerve a knife swing and take down a 6’4 unsub like he was a ragdoll. Maybe it was the fact that you were so nonchalant about the gash on your face and the blood trickling down your cheek. Maybe it was the natural narrowing of your eyes as you looked at him that made his heart feel like it was going to drop into his stomach.

But it wasn’t fear, so it couldn’t have been any of those things, if it were to do with that then surely he’d be feeling intimidated rather than, well, whatever he was feeling right now.

“Will it get you off my back?”

Spencer’s vision comes back into focus at your question, shamelessly staring in your direction. “Yeah uh- mhm,” He nods timidly, lips pressed tight into a line as his teeth tug at his lips nervously. “Please get it checked?”

You let your head fall back until you’re stood facing the ceiling, your eyes closing momentarily with an exasperated sigh. “Fine,”

Spencer follows the small trail of blood that extends past your jawline and down the side of your neck as you lean your head backwards, eyes snapping back up to your face once you tilt it back straight with your eyes locked on his face. “Lead the way then,”

“Right-” Spencer gives a sharp nod as he turns around towards the ambulance and begins walking with you on his tail, half grateful that you’re not in his line of vision anymore as his heart rate slowly returns to normal.

It was just the adrenaline surely.

He stays with you as you get your gash checked out by the EMTs, eyes following the antiseptic wipe that cleans up the drying blood stain down your neck and up the side of your face, the hiss that leaves your mouth and the sight of you wincing slightly under the sting as it reached the sight of injury causing his heart to drop and his pulse to race once more.

He was just concerned about your well being, that’s all.

[froggibus]

Sex Rocks! - AMAB! Venture

Pairing: AMAB! Sloan Cameron x fem! Reader (reader uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Sloan is in for much more than they bargained for when they find a statue with magical properties—and you might be the only one who can help them out

CW: porn with plot, AMAB! Venture, sex pollen (but it’s a magical sex statue), dubcon, masturbation, showering, dirty thoughts (abt reader), slight voyeurism, blowjob, hair pulling, face fucking, cum swallowing, cock riding, mating press, multiple orgasms, protected AND unprotected sex, doggy style, multiple rounds, overstim, lots of cum, (think that's everything) use of the word shaft (im so sorry i hate this word but there’s only so many synonyms for dick)

yes the title is a pun ^.^ i meant to post this way earlier in the day but i got distracted and didn't end up finishing til tonight and it came out WAY LONGER than i thought. this is fr the longest smut ive ever written. anyway venture whores hope you all enjoy <3

It must’ve been Sloan’s lucky day. After barely an hour of searching, the glittering artifact they’d been looking for seemed to jump right out. Though the dusty gold colour blended in with the shimmering sand of the cavern, the three pink gems of the small statuette seemed to call to them. 

The figure was cold to the touch and buttery, barely bigger than the size of their hand. It was shaped like a beautiful curvy woman, with full breasts accentuated with the pink stones and a thick tummy—the likeness of some old, forgotten deity that Sloan could never remember the name of. 

They took out a soft piece of cut cloth and wrapped the statue before tucking it in their pack and beginning the short trek to the surface. Sloan buzzed the whole way up, that warm tingling washing over them. The kind they always felt when they found a new artifact, or when you laughed at one of their dumb jokes. 

As the surface came into view, the golden sunshine just beginning to dip below the horizon, the warmth grew stronger. It had been a hot day, and it seemed that though the sun was setting, the heat had not yet begun to dissipate. They took a long pause, letting themself rest on the rocks outside of the cave.

Wiping the sweat away from their forehead, they took a big drink from the canteen of water they’d brought along with them. It was a short trek, they weren’t usually this sweaty and parched from something so basic—but with the warmth of the day at its peak, they shrugged it off.

The car they’d taken was only just down the trail, maybe ten minutes away. With one last sip of their cold water, they tucked it into their pack and started the walk back. The sky was turning pink as they set off, but slowly turned to purple and then the rich black of night.

Despite the day’s end, the heat only grew more unbearable with the walk. Their thighs cramped as they made their way down the trail, their heart beginning to race. Whatever, they tried to ignore it and power through to the car.

Sweat coated Sloan’s forehead and chest by the time they made it to their vehicle. Their hair was slicked to the back of their neck, and the t-shirt they’d been wearing was rendered near see-thru. 

“Jeez,” they sighed, tugging off their t-shirt.

They tossed the sweaty fabric into their backseat along with their pack before sliding in the front seat to drive. They kept the AC on full blast the whole trip back home, though it did little to stop the boiling in their blood. 

Sloan was just pulling off the highway when a gasp forced its way out at the sudden tight feeling in their pants. They risked a glance down to their hard cock now straining against the thick fabric of their carharts. They shook it off, turning onto their street and trying to ignore the feeling of the bulge in their pants only growing with each minute.

It was almost painfully hard by the time they made it home. Sloan almost forgot their pack in the back of the car in their race to get inside and free their aching cock from the fabric that confined it. 

A sigh ghosted their lips when their cock sprung free from their boxers and they wrapped their sweaty palm around it. Their core was near sweltering, their cock throbbing in need. 

With a glance at the door to make sure it was locked behind them, Sloan spat in their hand and started to spread it across their aching cock. A shiver crawled its way up their spine, acting as a brief reprieve from the heat that threatened to consume them. They clamped a hand over their mouth and began to slide their hand up their length.

With barely a touch, they were already so sensitive. Pre cum dripped down the tip, pooling across their fingertips and mixing with the saliva already spread over their skin. They squeezed harder, dragging their hand up and down faster. Their muffled moans vibrated against the clammy skin of their palm, their eyes falling shut as their hand fell into a rhythm.

Thoughts of you filled their head. Thoughts of your smile, of your warm skin, of pinning you to the bed and using you however they pleased. Sloan gasped, opening their eyes as they came into their palm.

Fuck. Cum rolled across their fingers, down their still hard cock and collected into the hair at the base of their pubic bone. They smeared the remainder of the cum on their thighs, shaking off the aftershocks of their orgasm and deciding a cold shower would solve both the mess they made, and the throb between their legs.

With their clean hand, they dragged their backpack with them all the way to their bedroom, tossing it in the corner before grabbing a towel and heading into the bathroom. They didn’t wait for the water to warm before stripping and stepping beneath the brisk stream.

The cool water settled the burning beneath their skin—but only just barely. Much to Sloan’s dismay, it also did nothing to soothe the ache between their legs. It was almost embarrassing, having an unrelenting boner for no reason like they were in school again.

They sighed, squeezing some coconut scented body wash into their hand and slicking across their cock. They didn’t bother to change the water back to warm, instead opting to let the frigid stream drip down their back. The nice smelling soap felt much, much better than their own spit—but they could imagine a few things that would feel even better.

Like your pretty lips wrapped around their tip, those kind eyes of yours pleading at them to cum in your mouth and—Sloan moaned, fingers clenching around their hard length. Just the thought of you touching them, or them touching you, was enough to have Sloan gasping and furiously jerking their cock.

Drops of soap flew away from their palm with every stroke, splattering the tile of the shower in front of them. God, wouldn’t they love to do that to you. What they wouldn’t give to do that to you. To have you lay down in front of them, completely at their mercy while they fucked you relentlessly and left you covered in their cum.

Their cock twitched, and then they were cumming. Wave after wave of hot cum burst out, coating the tile in front of them before being washed away by the water. Hard, shaking breaths wracked their chest as their senses returned to them and they could once again feel the cool water against their tanned skin. 

As they looked at the cum mixing with the water down the drain, all they could think was ‘what a waste.’

It only took ten minutes after their shower for the tingling in their cock to become unbearable again. The heat had returned almost immediately—and with a vengeance—but they’d managed to ignore the tenderness between their legs for only ten minutes.

Sloan was glad they didn’t bother putting their clothes back on as they settled into their bed and grasped their shaft once more. Cumming once or twice a day was normal for them, but this was something else entirely. Something had to be wrong.

Sloan pushed away their fears and started once again stroking their dick, leftover water and precum acting as a lubricant for their hand to easily slide around. They closed their eyes, and let themself think of you once more. 

How their cum would look running down your thighs, or splattered on your back. How nice your hands would feel gripping their cock, how you’d just beg them to fuck you.

Sweat dripped down their chest, wetting their tummy and the dark hair at the base of their cock. How long had they been jerking off this time? They risked a teary eyed glance at the screen of their phone—had it really been almost twenty minutes since they laid down in bed?

Twenty minutes and they were no closer to coming, but their dick was growing uncomfortably hard. A sigh passed through their lips. Their hand wasn’t enough, they needed something more, something hotter. 

Their mind went to you, pleasure hazed thoughts wondering if they called you, would you come? Would you help them? Before they could think it through, their fingers were dancing across the screen. Just the sight of the tiny contact picture of you at the top of their screen had them squeezing tighter, thick drips of pre cum rolling down their tip.

Sloan lets themself fall back into bed, their mind dancing away to thoughts of you sinking down on their cock. They roll their head to the side, their eyes catching sight of the bag they’d carelessly tossed in the corner just before their shower. 

Could the statue have done this? There were myths surrounding it, sure, but this? The thought was preposterous a week ago. Now though, with their insatiable lust, the thought doesn’t seem so crazy to Sloan.

Shit. They shouldn’t drag you into this. If it really is the statue, they don’t want to expose you to this. They reach for their phone to ask you not to come, to send you away, but just as their palm reaches the cold metal, the front door clicks open.

“Sloan?” You call, peaking your head in the front door. As soon as you’d gotten their message, you’d left your house. You’re talking more to yourself than them at this point, tiptoeing through the dark of their home. “I used the spare key you gave me to get in…are you here?”

Sloan bit their lip at the sound of your voice, risking a glance to the bag that contained the statue. Maybe inviting you here wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

“In here!” they call. Their voice is raspy, dripping with the need radiating from their core.

You follow the sound of their voice to the closed door of their bedroom, warm light leaking out from the cracks. It’s Sloan, and they don’t sound like they’re in danger, but something about their voice…

You push open the door. It takes two seconds for you to scan the room, two seconds for your eyes to fall on Sloan—sweaty, writhing and desperately jerking their cock in bed—and two seconds for you to turn away, covering your eyes.

“Shit,” you gasp. “I–I didn’t mean to walk in on you.”

But it’s strange. They called you here to help them, they knew you were going to come into their room—was this what they needed your help with? You couldn’t help but clench your legs at the thought, a heat rushing to your core.

Sloan’s voice cut through the darkness of your hand. “I-it’s okay,” they say. “You can look.”

You slowly peel your hand away from your eyes. Though they covered themself with a blanket, you could still see the glistening skin of their chest, and the up-down motion of their hand beneath the fabric. 

Sloan knows it’s shameless of them to keep stroking their cock while talking to you, while you’re right there watching—but they can’t stop. Now that you’re here in front of them, the pressure’s increased tenfold.

You squint. “What’s going on?”

“I found that statue.” They keep jerking off.

“And?”

“The rumors about it were true.”

“Fuck,” you curse. 

When they’d been telling you about the myths behind the statue, you’d both laughed it off, stealing wanton glances at each other as you did. They’d assured you it wasn’t possible, that there was no scientific reason a statue would bear unto its users an insatiable appetite for sex.

Seeing them now, though, all sweaty and desperate, has you thinking they were wrong. 

“Sloan,” you say calmly, stepping in the room and gently shutting the door behind you, “what can I do to help?”

They bite your lip, and it’s just now that you notice their eyes are almost completely black in lust. A shiver runs up your spine. 

They pull back the blanket. “Touch me,” they swallow. “Please.”

You glance at their thick, throbbing cock dripping in precum. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, wrapped up in the worst possible way. It wouldn’t be right—they’re clearly not thinking straight. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Sloan’s not sure whether it’s the statue, or their frustration, or some terrible combination of the two that prompts them to say, “oh don’t tell me you haven’t been wanting me to fuck you for months.”

Their brazenness sends another wave of heat to your core, your underwear suddenly feeling wetter than usual. “Sloan,” you say carefully.

“If you’re worried about consent,” they rasp. “I want it. All the time. For months, too. I think about it nonstop.”

Their words ease your nerves, and you find yourself approaching their bedside. Your eyes stayed glued to their cock and the hand furiously stroking it. “What do you think about?”

They watch you, dedicating each pump of their length to you. “I think about you while I fuck myself. I think about—about fucking you, and having you bounce on my cock and—god.”

You sink down on the bed next to them, wrapping your hand around the one rubbing their dick. “Let me.”

They slide their hand away, letting you take over. Already, your hand feels a million times better than theirs ever did, the ache in their core finally beginning to relent. They lay their head back, watching your hand glide across their sticky skin.

They suck in a breath. “Fuck,” they look at you through their lashes. “Use your mouth.”

You’re taken aback by their command. Their cock looks so inviting, dripping wet and throbbing in your palm. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever had which only makes you want it more.

You look them in the eyes while you lick a bead of precum away from the tip. Sloan shivers, wrapping a hand in your hair and pulling you down. You gasp as you take their cock into your mouth, wrapping your lips around it. It’s salty, a mix of sweat and precum, with a strange undertone of coconut—but it’s just how you imagined it.

Your jaw strains to take them into your mouth, their tip hitting the back of your throat after only a few seconds. You gag slightly, but Sloan only pushes your hand down further, groaning at the warmth of your mouth. This was exactly what they needed.

As soon as you start to see black spots, they pull you off. A strand of drool connects your lips to their length, dripping and coating your chin. They hum at the sight of you, so filthy already.

“Do you like how it tastes?”

You’re so flustered, so bewildered by the situation that you can only nod, clenching the base of their cock. You put your lips back on their tip and eagerly slide down for more. Their calloused fingers still tug at your hair, using the strands like reins to push and pull you how they see fit.

Sloan watches you intently the whole time, admiring the spit that coats your mouth and the way your throat bulges when they pull you a certain way. They’ve dreamt about fucking you for months now, but none of their wildest dreams could ever compare to this.

Despite the way your eyes water, Sloan pulls you down further. You look so fucking cute choking on their thick cock—they can’t help it. When you finally slap a hand against their thigh, they let go of your head and watch you gasp for air.

“Get on your knees,” they command.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice with the way your throat burns. The dominance in them only makes you wetter, a noticeable throbbing rushing through your clit. You’re all too eager to settle on your knees at their bedside.

They cup your chin, swiping their thumb across your lips to smear your drool and their pre across them. “So cute,” they murmur.

You lean back in to take their cock once more, but they tsk at you. Just as you tilt your head in confusion, you watch as Sloan grips their cock and rubs the messy, wet tip across your mouth. They smear it all across your face, making a mess all over your cheeks and nose.

A whine slips from your lips before you can stop it, but Sloan only laughs at it and finally lets their cock slap against your mouth. You open wide and take them once more, rolling your tongue over their length.

“So eager,” they tease, their fingers resuming their position in your hair, “if I’d known you’d be such a slut for me, I would’ve fucked you months ago.”

Sloan watches the shame glimmer in your eyes, followed by pure pleasure, and doesn’t miss the way you rock your hips against the floor. 

It only takes a few minutes of you on your knees before they’re coming, pushing your head down so you have no choice but to swallow their cum. Your eyes shoot wide as the hot cum spills in your mouth, pulling back from their cock and opening your mouth so they can see it.

“Good girl,” they purr. “Now swallow.”

You nod and obey without a second thought, licking their cock a few more times after to clean up the excess. “Sloan,” you say quietly, your voice raspy from the way they just fucked your throat.

“Hm?”

“Do you have condoms?”

They tap the nightstand that you’re sitting next to. “You wanna fuck me?”

You pass them the condom, eagerly waiting as they lay back in bed and roll it over their cock. Though they’re slow to put it on, you don’t miss the way their hands shake in anticipation.

Sloan watches you the whole time as you strip, discarding your clothes as quickly as you can. You climb onto the bed and straddle their waist, a knee on either side of their hips. Their hands clench your waist tightly, fingertips digging in hard enough to bruise. 

Usually Sloan would be happy to let you adjust, but with the warmth of your pussy right there, they can’t wait any longer. Using your hips as leverage, they thrust up into you, the tip of their cock bottoming out against your cervix.

You cry out, burying your head against their sticky chest. “Sloan,” you whine.

“Sorry,” they pant, but continue thrusting into you.

You relax into them, slamming your hips into theirs to meet their rhythm. It’s painful at first, both the stretch of their cock and how deep it reaches—but it’s amazing, too.

Sloan barely thinks as they pound in and out of you, using your own body weight as leverage to get their cock deeper and deeper with each thrust. Your whines are like music to their ears, complemented by the rhythm of matching groans they loose every time their cock brushes your cervix.

You cum so hard you swear you go blind for a second. Everything is hot, your vision goes white, and all you can focus on is the way your cunt is gushing around their cock, juices coating their thighs. You go limp on their chest for a minute, letting them fuck you like a toy while you recover.

Sloan’s own orgasm isn’t far behind, their cock twitching as they spill into the condom—though they’d much rather spill into you. They almost draw blood with how tightly their nails dig into your sides, and the only word they seem to remember is your name.

Even though they’re unbearably hot and their cock is so sensitive it hurts, they still need more. 

“Can I keep going? Tell me I can keep going.”

You’re exhausted from the brutal pace they’ve set, but their cock fills you so well and they sound so desperate, you have no choice but to say yes. Upon your agreement, Sloan is flipping you onto the mattress beneath them and bending your legs to your chest. 

They can get deeper like this, and Sloan knows it too. They start their pace off slower this time, trying to give you time to recover before their own need takes over. They hold your hands, pinning them above your head while they fuck you.

Their eyes lock with yours as they increase the pace, the tip of their cock hitting that spot inside of you perfectly every time. There are tears in your eyes from the pleasure, but it only makes them harder. 

“Too deep,” you whine, squeezing their hands with as much strength as you can muster.

“You don’t love having me fill you up?” They mumble into your ear, “if I can’t stuff you with my cum, I’ll fill you with my cock.”

You gasp and squeeze your eyes shut, their dirty words sending you over the edge. You try to clench your knees together but Sloan’s body is in the way. They fuck you through your orgasm, squeezing your hands back with every bit of pressure you squeeze theirs with.

“That’s it,” though their words are soft, they punctuate each one with a thrust, “cum on my cock.”

They slide their hands down your body, resting on your hips once more. Their thrusts start to get sloppy, and you know they can’t last much longer like this. You reach up, desperate for something—anything—to ground yourself, your fingers coming in contact with their hair.

Sloan whines and cums in one sloppy motion, resting their head on your neck while they lazily thrust through their high. Soft groans and whines vibrate against your collarbone.

It takes a minute for them to collect their strength again, pulling their cock out of you. You look at them through tear blurred vision, eyes widening at the cum soaked condom dripping into the wild tangle of hair at the base of their length. There’s a ring of white around their cock from it all, and the only thought crossing your mind is how badly you want to lick it off.

Sloan can’t decide whether to admire the sheer amount of cum filling the condom, or be disappointed that they weren’t able to fuck it into you instead. They pull it off of their cock and toss it onto the floor—it’ll be a pain to clean later, but they don’t care. They reach into their nightstand for another one, but your hand wraps around their wrist first.

“You’re still hard?”

As if in reply, their cock twitches against your leg. Though the searing heat has finally begun to fade, the pure need coursing through their veins has not.

“You’re done already?” They counter.

“N-no,” you say quickly, though your pussy feels unbearably sensitive in the cold room. “But you don’t need to use that.”

They look down at the purple wrapper in their hand, then back up at you. Their eyes practically glitter in anticipation. “Raw?”

You nod shyly, reaching out your arms to beckon them back to you. You’ll never be able to match their insatiable pace—you know that—but you told them you’d help, even if it means letting them use you like a fleshlight.

They plant a kiss to the base of your throat, a devilish twinkle in the dark of their eyes. “Roll onto your knees.”

With their help, you roll onto your stomach and pull your knees up, arching your back to give them access to your dripping cunt. Too tired to keep your chest up, you rest your cheek against the single pillow in their bed and let yourself relax.

Sloan’s hands retrace the marks they left on your lips earlier, positioning you perfectly to line up with their cock. They land a harsh slap to your cunt with the head of their cock and slip it in all at once, relishing in the gasp that leaves your lips.

They rock their hips into yours, reaching up to tangle a hand in your hair. With one hand gripping your hips and another in your hair, they piston into you. You bite your lip to try and cover the onslaught of moans they fuck out of you and pray that Sloan doesn’t have neighbors—although at this point, they’ve probably heard enough.

“Feels even better raw,” they groan, balls slapping against your clit with a particularly brutal thrust. “S’like it was made for me.”

The burning in the pit of your stomach grows at their dirty words, your pussy utterly gushing around their length. Without the condom, you can feel the desperate throbbing of their cock, feel every twitch of their tip when they bottom out inside of you. They reach everywhere inside you, rubbing places you didn’t even know you had.

Waves of pleasure roll over you, each more intense after the last. Your pussy flutters around Sloan’s cock, but their pace doesn’t slow. They keep slamming into you, lewd slapping noises loud enough to cover your desperate moans. They tug your hair hard, pulling you closer, and roll their hips against yours.

Their cockhead brushes your cervix and your eyes roll back in the sharp pleasure that travels through your pussy. Drool leaks from the side of your mouth and your moans transform from fully formed words to stupid sounding babbles.

Sloan releases your hair from their grip and moves their hand to massage your ass. “Sounds so cute when you whine,” they coo breathily.

Your senses all come flooding back to you when you feel the first spurt of their hot cum inside of you. Your tummy flutters with butterflies, your pussy contracts, and you cum with them. Both of you writhe in bed against each other, Sloan’s desperate, near primal pants like music to your ears.

“Fuck,” you groan as you collapse into the bed.

They keep their cock inside of you, shallowly thrusting their cum back in. “Please don’t stop,” they whine. “Please, I-I need more. Please.”

Your whole body burns, your pussy is so sensitive you’re not sure you’d even be able to cum again. “Sloan,” you sigh, looking back at them. 

“Please. Please let me keep using you. Please. You don’t even have to do anything but please let me use this pussy,” they pinch your clit in emphasis. “Please.”

“Well, with begging like that,” you joke.

Sloan wastes no time slamming their cock back inside of you, and though you can hardly feel the harsh slapping motion, you can tell their pace has slowed. You lay there, sweaty and hot and with their cum dripping out and being fucked back in.

Sloan murmurs praises to you while they thrust, their mind half gone from how fucking horny they are. They can see cum dripping down your pussy, down your thighs and it’s so filthy and it’s so hot and all they want is more. They pound into you, chasing that final high they may or may not get, desperately gripping your sensitive skin until there’s marks.

Finally, they cum again, their hot cum gushing until you’re so full it starts to burst from the seams between your pussy and their cock. Sloan watches it leak out in a trance, as if in disbelief that not only did they fuck you, they also just fucked you raw.

The heat has completely faded from their body, and as they pull out from your cunt and watch the cum drip, their cock finally starts to soften. “Are you okay?”

You manage a weak thumbs up from where you lay in the bed.

Just as they go to put on their pants, their cock twitches again, and the heat comes rushing back. Sloan sighs, looking at you guiltily, “think you can do a round 2?”

overwatch masterlist | masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[princessbrunette]

kitty!reader is feisty, so naturally — jj is always coming up with creative ways to keep her in check.

the first time he did it, it was played off as a joke. just jj being silly. nothing new. you were bickering, getting in your man’s face merely out of bored and irritation — something he was all too used to.

“stop being mean.” you hiss, narrowing your eyes up at him making him jab you at your waist before yanking you closer.

“oh i’m mean? for not lettin’ you play with my dick in public, i’m mean.” he deadpans, raising his eyebrows like he was accepting the challenge.

“yes. you’re rejecting me! i’ll bite you.” you threaten, raising an eyebrow.

“first of all — no the hell i’m not. second of all — go for it, knock yourself out. it don’t bother me, sweetcheeks.” he shrugs making you glare harder up at him like you’d be able to make him explode with just your eyes. “aw now i’m really scared.” he dramatises, rolling his eyes.

“you want scary? okay how’s this — next time you fuck me m’gonna keep riding it and riding it and not let you pull out so you knock me up.” you stand on the toes of your shiny black mary-janes, getting all in his face ‘til he was pushing your jaw away with a gentle hand and a smirk.

“then you better take that plan b and stop playing with me.” you feel the threat in his voice, very vaguely. like — he was subtly jabbing you not to say things like that if you don’t mean it.

“and if i don’t?” you pur, sharp nails digging into his shoulders making his eyes flutter as he tries to ignore it.

“oh? well — i’ll have’ta just —” he reaches round you and you think he’s going to give you a hard swat on your ass, but instead, his hands dive right down the back of your skirt, grabbing a fist of your cotton underwear and yanking them up— the sound of the fabric stretching to a near tear. you gasp, falling into his chest and erupting into giggles.

“jay! let go, stop!” you squeal and surprisingly he does, dropping the material with a smirk leaving it hanging out the back of your waistband stupidly. he gives your ass a tap before stepping away.

“yeah, s’what you get for messin’ with papa J— remember that. i got new antics now.”

you don’t take it much to heart, so you’re blindsided the next time it happens. it becomes a habit of his, one slither of an attitude and he’s fisting at whatever underwear you got on and yanking it up so hard it hurts, nearly lifting your damn feet off the ground. “what was that? huh? say sorry. go ‘head. say it.” he’ll chant in your ear, like some kind of high school bully in an 80s movie robbing you of your lunch money. it starts to become less funny very quickly, and more of a way to humiliate you — especially when he threatens to do it infront of the pogues. you bite out a response just a little too irritably and the hand that was resting on your lower back will slither down the back of your shorts, twisting his finger round the black lace of your panties.

“hm? repeat that real quick?” he’ll taunt just for you to hear and you’ll immediately shrink, shaking your head.

but much like any other punishment, you eventually find a way to enjoy it — rendering it useless to the blonde as he’d thought he’d finally found a way to keep you on a tighter leash. it’s one night in your bedroom that you’re rolling around with him play fighting on your bedroom floor when you just take it that little bit too far, sinking your teeth hard into his arm to get the upper hand.

“ah—” he immediately disarms you with a sharp slap on the cheek, disorientating you as you groan and fall onto your back on the floor, the fluffy rug tickling your arm as you rub at your cheek. he hovers over you. “awww, what? did that hurt?” he coo’s unsympathetically. “already told you mama, i only play nice if you do.” he dusts his hands off as you pout before he’s eyeing you, sprung with his usual ideas. “matter’a’fact…”

suddenly he’s flipping you to lay on your front making you squirm as you realise what’s coming. straddling the back of your legs, he flips up your skirt and uses two hands to pull your baby pink panties up your back making you wince and mewl.

“ow! stop it!” you complain as he smirks, tongue parked sadistically in the corner of his mouth.

“nuh-uh babydoll. you asked for it.”

you find a way to roll onto your front beneath him as he still hovers above your knees, lots of fighting spirit left in him as you grin up at him victoriously. however, he finds a way to wipe that smile off your face fast when he grips the front of your panties — barely noting the pretty cursive ‘Kitten’ scrawled across the front as he yanks it up the same way he’d usually do to the back.

his own evil grin falters when he looks up to see your expression, jaw dropped and brows knitted at the sensation. it was different, the fabric forced to slide right up against your clit. your hips twitch and knees fall open.

“wow— seriously? this shits doin’ it for you?” he’s amused, giving the panties a couple more rough tugs upwards making you squeak.

“jayj— qu—quit it…” you try to shift, but any wriggling of your hips only makes it worse as your boyfriend has you pinned, continuing to pull up and down.

“i know you’re not tellin’ me what to do, kittycat.” he ticks his head with faux disapproval, not seeming to want to stop any time soon. your breath hitches in your throat and your socked feet kick out.

“jj— really y—you have to— s’gonna… m’gonna—”

he laughs and it’s mean, leaning forward a little as he continues with his repetitive ministrations.

“yeah? can’t get those words out now, huh? shit babe, only you could cum in your pretty little panties just from being bullied.”

[thebigbadbatswife]

OCT 26th - Overstimulation

Pairing - Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Title - On A Mission

Summary - Simon is on a mission to see just how many times he can make you cum.

Warnings - Overstimulation, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Squirting

Word Count - 667

Your thighs clamp against either side of Simon’s head as he continues to assault your pussy. His tongue relentless laps at your engorged and over sensitive clitoris while his fingers continue to pump in and out of your cunt. His calloused finger tips constantly pressing up against that spot deep inside of you that has you close to seeing stars.

You squirm beneath him, unsure if you’re trying to get away or if you’re begging for more. Maybe it’s both. Your fingers are tangled in his dark and slightly overgrown hair and your throat is sore from how you have cried and borderline screamed his name.

He’s been at this all night. From the moment he got home. He dragged you into the bedroom, without so much of a hello, stripped you of your clothes and buried his face between your legs. He hasn’t let up since. His sole mission seems to be to render you completely senseless and unable to walk straight, if at all, from the amount of times he’s made you cum. You’ve already lost count, but you’re almost certain he knows the exact amount, so that he can keep that number in mind the next time he goes down on you.

“Si, please.” You’re not even sure what you’re asking him. Please stop? Please don’t stop? You have no idea. All you are aware of is the feeling of your pelvic muscles tightening as your vision almost turns white and a rush of fluid forces itself from you. 

You collapse against the bed, gasping for air. You have never cum like that before. As you slowly come back round, you finally realise that Simon has stopped his ministrations. You blink and look at him. His mouth and chin is dripping with your squirt and there’s an almost wild look in his deep brown eyes.

Before you know it, he’s draping his body over yours, pushing his cock into your over sensitive and abused cunt. You mewl softly as he gives a gentle roll of his hips, slowly giving you more and more of his cock until he’s seated deep inside of you. 

“C'mon, lovie,” he says softly. “Let me see you do that again.” 

You whine softly as he starts to drill into you. It hurts, but you don’t want him to stop. You want more. Your nails dig into his arms and, once more, each noise he forces from you is louder than the last. Simon pulls away a little, his eyes glued to where your bodies are joined as one. He loves the sight of how your cunt swallows his cock and how you grip him so tightly. Like your body is trying to stop him from pulling out again. You wouldn’t mind if he stayed inside of you forever.

Your orgasm hits you harder and faster than any of your previous ones. Your cunt clamping down onto him as your pussy gushes around him. It only encourages him to fuck you harder. Just as it all starts to become too much, Simon’s moaning your name as he fills your pussy. 

He catches himself before he accidentally crushes you beneath his weight. His lips seek yours and he catches them in a soft and passionate kiss. You moan softly into it, running your fingers through his hair again. 

He pulls away and a soft smile appears on his face as he gazes at you. It sends a warmth blooming through your chest. Fuck, you love this man.

“You did so good for me, lovie,” he says softly. “But you’re alway such a good girl for me, aren’t ya?”

You nod in response, your throat feeling too raw for you to say something right now.

Slowly and carefully, he starts to pull out of you, muttering an apology when you grimace a little at the action. Simon gathers you up in his arms and lifts you from the bed, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“C'mon, lovie. Let’s go take a bath.”

[syoddeye]

kinktober - day 04 - leather

soap x f!reader | 2k words cw: established relationship, sub!Soap, dom!Reader, impact play, heavy restraints, handjob, love a/n: everything is consensual, just not explicitly discussed. summary: johnny reaps the benefits of some diy. banner by @/cafekitsune

John spent weeks locked away in his shop, toiling on a project he was adamant about keeping a secret. A surprise.

When it was complete, he fetched you from the house with the eagerness of a dog pulling a lead. Barely in the door from a long day at your hellish job, you were suspect and reluctant.

“Johnny, please make it quick. All I want is a bath, and a bowl of ice cream.”

“I ken, I ken. Just wait ‘til ye see.” 

He shepherds you through the shop door and shuffles toward a bright blue tarp draped over something sizable. You inwardly groan, immediately assuming he’s gone and found another bike to restore.

“Oh, boy…”

“Remember John’s party back in February?”

Heat erupts on your cheeks. Jesus. “Yes…?”

“And remember the basement? Simon?”

Your head whips around, expecting the lug to materialize from the shadows. “He’s not here, is he? We’re supposed to chat before–”

“No, nothing like that. Do ye remember what he was doing?”

How could you forget? It was hard to look away. The whole room had gone quiet when Price and Kyle unveiled Simon. It was a shock seeing the big man rendered helpless. Ankles, wrists, and neck locked in a stockade. It was medieval. You never took him for a man who’d consent to being displayed like that, let alone restrained. But that was one of the joys of visiting Johnny’s friends.

“You didn’t.”

His grin grows. “Aye, I did.” With a dramatic flourish, your husband hoists the crinkling fabric into the air and away.

“Jesus Christ, John.” You giggle nervously at the sight of the gleaming wooden stockade. The light bounces off the lacquer, catching the steel fixtures and rich, black leather. It’s gorgeous, and the sight alone lights a fire in your belly. “This is what you’ve been up to? Turning the shop into an actual dungeon?”

“We'll move it indoors. Got the plans from Price and everything. It’s not an exact copy, but it’s a decent prototype.”

You shoot him a look at that, running your hand along the cushioned beam meant to support someone at their stomach. “Prototype? You betting I’ll like being in there that much?”

He goes quiet, and slowly rounds to the front. His smile now sheepish. “Actually, I was hopin’ you’d put me in it.”

~~

Your husband is not a giant like Simon, but he’s not small, and he’s certainly not someone to underestimate. You’ve had your head locked in his arms before, have had him manhandle you about like a toy. He uses his broad shoulders and muscular thighs to his advantage, and his concentrated bulk lends him quite a bit of speed. Wrestling with him is never strictly playful, at least it never ends that way, and he always fights dirty.

So seeing him bent over, ass perked in the air, and tugging at the restraints is somewhat of a revelation. Knowing he’s trained to avoid capture and resist interrogation, and knowing what he could do with his hands-free? It’s a good thing you’re clothed. Your underwear is soaked.

(So’s his, his leaking cock gradually darkens his cherry red jockstrap.) 

You card your fingers through his hair, feathering it affectionately. “Comfortable?”

He smiles warmly, leaning his cheek into your palm when it slides down his face. “Reasonably.”

“You ready?”

“Aye. Please.”

“That’s a good boy.”

After wrangling the stockade into the basement, a team effort between you and him, he sprang surprise number two on you—a brand new set of a flogger and a crop. Matching. Another apparent recommendation from Price. Your hand hovers between, ultimately selecting the flogger first. A pretty thing, black and dyed red leather, and a decent weight. It’s not your first rodeo, but you're not as seasoned as Price or Kyle. You take the time to roll your wrist with it in hand, letting the quiet flutter of its tassels build anticipation. 

Your Johnny looks so good like this. Legs forced open, muscles straining under his skin. You notice the twinge in his knee, something he swears is alright, but you let your mind mull over options for doting on him tonight and tomorrow in the background.

He gasps when you start. You surprise him with light, twinned strokes over the backs of his thighs. It’s a test for the stability of his work as much as it is for him. Neither of you are accustomed to him being on the receiving end. It’s a rare privilege. But the stockade barely budges when he jolts, and he doesn’t tap out. You escalate accordingly.

His thighs, his back, his shoulders. Everywhere but his ass gets painted in a series of mildly firmer strikes. You’re careful, mindful of his work-related injuries and sore spots, and listen closely to his breathing. It’s heavy and deep, hitching when you drag the flogger slowly over his cheeks. Sweat beads at the nape of his neck.

“Fuck, yes.” he whispers when you let it rest a moment. He tells you he’s green, then wiggles eagerly. “Get on with it.”

You tease him instead. Lashing out, literally or figuratively, is simply rewarding his mouthy behavior. You let the tassels swing without force behind them, and the tips barely skim him. A few minutes of that gets him apologetic, whimpering. It’s a fight to hide the pleasure in your voice.

“What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you.”

“I-I said please. Please. I’m needin’ it.”

You hum, draw the flogger away, and wait. The second you see his head try to turn, trapped in its leather-lined hole, you lay down a volley of firm hits to the meat off his ass. You don’t let up as his skin grows rosy. You don’t stop even when he’s moaning at the top of his lungs, whole body jerking in the stocks, rattling and testing the hardware. You go until your wrist aches.

After ditching the flogger, you inspect where the gear touches his limbs. While on a knee, listening to his breathing even out and his body settle lax onto the bar, you bite your lip at the sight of him. 

“Making a mess down here, baby. You want this off?” You ask, rising to your feet, toying with a band of his strap. “Not digging in, is it?”

“No. Water?”

You fetch the bottle immediately and watch closely as he drinks. His throat bobs and it’s never looked as good as it does resting on the plush leather of the stockade’s hole. Sweat drips down his temples, his jaw. When his eyes flick up to look at you, glassy and blue, your stomach clenches. His fucking mouth puckered around the straw should be innocuous. Should. You’re going to lose it the next time he has you. This is all you’ll think about until then.

The first few hits with the crop are love taps. Enough to make his muscles spasm, but keep them loose enough. He hisses from a couple of harder hits to where his thighs meet his ass. He twitches, toes curling and uncurling, before he sticks it out marginally further, as much as he can given his limited movement. Neither of you are into dealing serious damage, but it’s as if you can read the thoughts darting through his mind. Hear the gears turning. He wants more. He’s ready for more.

Following a couple of idle swings, you start, similar to how you did with the flogger. Without telegraphing, you lay easy smacks to his thighs, moving up a hair each time until one bounces off a cheek. You soothe over it, admiring the color. Slowly but surely, he’s getting pinker.

You knead one cheek, trailing the flat of the crop up a leg, adjusting your grip and stance to slap the other, and switch after a half dozen. You brush your thumb, petting his stinging skin and coarse hair, and sigh contentedly at a little whimper.

“Doing so good for me, Johnny. Such a strong boy.”

It earns another choked, desperate sound. He gives his color when asked, and you return to an arms-length away. You flick the crop across his skin, glancing blows to revive the bite and burn. You progress to rapid-fire snaps, peppering his skin until he’s squirming again. Peeking over the wooden top beam, you smile at the slack in his jaw and his breathless panting. He meets your gaze with a pleasure-drunk laugh.

“A little more?”

“A little more.”

Since he hasn’t requested that his underwear come off, you swing the crop up slowly and drag it along the underside of his covered cock. It twitches at the contact, testing the fabric. You smirk as he keens and curses, thrusting futilely once again backward in the stock. If you didn’t think he’d come in two seconds flat, you’d call him a slut. Rather, you prod and nudge his balls with the crop’s head, letting the thin leather bend and slip around them until a glint catches your eye. A fine spiderweb-thin string of precum seeps through the cotton. It dangles. Drops. A low, prolonged moan escapes him.

“Fucking hell, John. Look at that…” You drop the tool, eyes drilling into the stain. You dip your thumbs under the waistband. “May I?”

His head barely lifts and drops in a nod.

“Need a yes, baby.”

“Y…Yes. Please.” His voice is jagged, raw. 

“So, so good,” You breathe. You tug the strap down, the two of you groaning when his cock bounces free and sways. More droplets splatter onto the ground with a wet sound. “Christ. I’m…”

“Fuck, please, I’m gonna burst.”

The jockstrap falls down his thighs abandoned, and you press to his back. He hisses when you drape over him and take him in hand, partly from the rough texture of your clothes and the feel of your warm palm. Swiping your thumb over the drooling tip, you spread his prespend over his aching length and firm up your grasp to how he likes it. John starts to stammer out something undoubtedly impatient, but it flattens into a choked-off grunt as you stroke. His feet lift and stomp on the vinyl lining the flooring of the stockade. He bucks, trying to fuck your fist, but the stomach bar keeps him chasing it as feverishly as you reckon he’d like.

“You close?” You tease, lips dusting over a red spot on his sweaty shoulder, and swallow hard.

The pure need in his voice makes your chest tighten. He struggles with a response, nearly slurring his words. “Dinnae stop, fuck, I-I…Oh, fuuuuck—” 

One downside of his little DIY project? Not seeing his face as he comes. He lurches in his holds, and you peel yourself off of his back. As he swears and sputters, hips jerking, you ease your grip and retract your hand. Stepping away, you stare at the mess on your hand, then his quivering thighs, and sigh wistfully.

Licking your fingers, you watch as he slumps bit by bit, coming down from his high with ragged breaths. You free his ankles and take a moment to examine him before unlatching the hinged beam closing in his wrists and neck. You smooth over his mohawk, damp with sweat, and rub a small circle into his scalp. You support his head as it lifts, blinking hazily up at you. His gaze alone takes the edge off. He’s so sweet like this.

You maneuver him to the couch to decompress, using the last of the strength in his legs. A whole assortment of goodies is within reach the second he asks, and you remind him of that as you push a throw pillow under his head. Large swaths of his back are pink and red but already fading. A bolt of guilt passes through as you catch yourself thinking of how much darker you’d like to go next time. He tears up again but settles and nuzzles into the pillow. He’s gone. You’re gone. Seeing him so vulnerable—it’s a head rush. Just like watching Price and Kyle work Simon over. You thought you understood before, but now…? You’ll need to call the good Captain for advice.

“You…” John mumbles with a smile lazily stretching across his face, words elongating with a yawn. “You like my project…?”

You brush over a brow, lowering to lay beside him. Your voice cracks along with your heart. “Yeah, baby. I love it. Love you.”

His eyes flutter closed, and he sighs deeply. Sated. That makes two of you.

[artofchoisan]

RIDE OR DIE WITH ME COWBOY

Cowboy!San x Lost!Reader

The plot: A girl lost on a barren road in the desert of Mexico city and a man approaching her to help. Too cliche? Think again.

TW: DOM!San!, Rough cock riding, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Spanking, Mockery, Teasing.

Words: 4.2k words

► ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Traveling all across the world with your eyes gazing across the wonders of nature all around and the myriad of flavors and adventure had always been a gift you’ve wanted to own, yet who would know that it would turn out to be the apple that had gotten Adam and Eve to be thrown out of heaven.

“Get a license they said, it will be fun they said.” You grumble and angrily kick the side of your car, broken down in the middle of nowhere, "I should’ve just stayed curious,” you mutter. “Now here I am, stranded."

The road stretches out, barren and lifeless, for kilometers under the scorching Mexican sun. This is one of the most dangerous countries you promised yourself you'd never visit, given the high risk of mafia activity. Now, anxiety and fear grip you, making you feel like bait on a hook. 

Going to Mexico was for the sole reason of visiting one of your sick relatives there and you took the opportunity of making the rounds of many of the restaurants and having a feast of getting a taste of the delicacies there, it was worth it but right now the fear that had you in a chokehold was getting the best of you.

One could mistake you for an old trucker as how the curses flew out of your mouth like a train, “My dad would be so pissed well let’s hope he never had to find my body ugh.”

Since heat reigned across the place, you’ve opted for some light clothing, jeans short and a tank top that showed your cleavage which God had been quite generous with you which you knew you’ve got nothing to complain as you bend down looking for the cause of all this mess as you sigh, “I know nothing of cars.”

Frustration and annoyance etched into your features as you wiped off the sweat off your forehead, “If this heat doesn’t end me then this heat will surely do and damn those heels.” Kicking out your heels off your feet away as your gaze went back into glaring at the car as if it would magically apologize for the chaos and betrayal you were facing because of it, “Come on Mr Car, please do work I don’t want to die here.”

Shaking your head and cursing at the heavens, you caught something in the corner of your eye, the silhouette of a person, turning your head to face it, you felt your heart drop blood to drain off your face. 

“What the fuck.” Whispering under your breath as you saw the tall and broad shouldered frame of a man coming towards you giving off the western cowboy vibe a little bit too good but it wasn’t time to be in awe as you were in the middle of a barren road with that suspicious man coming towards you.

You back away slightly, your gaze never leaving him in case you need to make a run for it, good thing you had thrown off your heels, you can run better. 

As he was coming closer, you took in his look even better and your breathing hitched.

Was it the scorching sun that caused you to be feeling such a heat or was it the way the man coming towards you wore a black cowboy hat, head tilted down yet you could see there was a scarf that covered his face, already a red flag.

The closer he was reaching to you, the more detailed his appearance became. 

His muscular frame was partially covered by a black jacket with fringes that swayed with his movements. Studs lined the jacket, which barely hid his chest that moved at the way he was breathing barely hiding how toned and defined his muscles look, making you wonder what was the purpose of the jacket itself.

His abdominal muscles were toned and defined and was such a contrast, broad shoulders with a small waist only rendered for a wolf of lust and fear to fight within you unsure of the emotion you should feel.

The man came closer to you and stopped, your breath hitched as you saw the intensity of his feline eyes. 

Backing away slightly in fear, body shaking yet your eyes not being able to unfocused from his toned muscles that were on display as you waited for him to say something and indeed he did, “Are you alright Miss?”

Once more, his voice was raspy and slightly deep, his head tilted to the side as he lifted something in his hand, “I usually come into this part of the road as it’s more quiet and I saw you but I ended up almost getting hit by a pair of flying heels.”

“I…I’m sorry..” Stuttering out as you gulp still not wanting to trust this man, “I was just being annoyed and I didn’t see you there.” 

Vulnerability and fear darted across your aura to which he wasn’t blind, nor was he blind to your attire, glistening sweat drenched over your legs and exposed cleavage as you breathed. The man cleared his throat as he looked back into your eyes, “It’s alright Miss I’m here to help you. I knew of upcoming debris but never of upcoming heels”

The way he tried to lighten the atmosphere was yet to calm the uneasiness inside of you, ever since young you had been taught to never trust anyone blindly especially being brought by a single father who promised to keep you from every harm even if that means to kill.

A weak smile reached your lips which made him to smile, although you couldn’t see it through the scarf that covered for half of his face except for those eyes that hide an intensity like nothing else yet some warmth linger in them,

Eyes are the windows of the soul and those had nothing to hide.

“So let’s see what the issue is with this.” The man turned his attention to the car, bending down as he inspected the inside, getting a glimpse of his waist and how his arm flexed making his muscles bulge out as you gulped.

Starting timidly, “Somehow it just broke down and I’ve been stuck in here for an hour and I’m not even having any signal even here.” Relaxing slightly as you lean against your car, still keeping some distance with this stranger, “And this scorching heat is getting the best of me, didn’t know it would be that hot in Mexico.”

The man chuckled softly, the sound muffled by the scarf. “Mexico can be quite unforgiving this time of year,” he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. “But don’t worry, we’ll get you back on the road soon.”

You watched as he continued to inspect the car, his movements deliberate and confident. Despite your father’s warnings echoing in your mind, you couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of relief at the stranger’s presence. He seemed competent, and there was something in his demeanor that suggested he genuinely wanted to help.

As he worked, you took the opportunity to study him more closely. His eyes, the only visible part of his face, were a deep, intense brown, framed by thick lashes. They conveyed a mix of focus and curiosity, occasionally flickering up to meet your gaze. There was a subtle kindness in them that put you a bit more at ease.

“Do you know a lot about cars?” you asked, trying to make conversation and distract yourself from the lingering unease.

He glanced up, his eyes crinkling at the corners as if he were smiling beneath the scarf. “You could say that. Grew up fixing things, so cars became second nature.” He straightened up, wiping his hands on a rag he pulled from his back pocket. “Looks like your radiator overheated. We’ll need to let it cool down before we do anything else.”

You nodded, feeling a mix of frustration and gratitude. “Thank you for stopping to help. I didn’t know what I was going to do out here.”

“It’s no trouble,” he assured you. “I couldn’t just leave someone stranded in this heat.” He stepped back, giving you some space. “So, what brings you to this part of Mexico?”

“Just a road trip,” you said, shrugging lightly. “Needed a break from everything back home. a change of scenery might help clear my head.”

San nodded understandingly. “I get that. Sometimes, a change of scenery is exactly what you need.”

“I’m sorry but do you have any water?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence. Your voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if you were revealing a weakness.

He nodded thoughtfully. “I have some in my truck. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

As he walked towards his vehicle, you couldn’t help but watch him, your mind racing with a mixture of thoughts and emotions. San seemed genuine, but your father’s voice still echoed in your mind, reminding you to be cautious, you’ve found him faster than you expected.

More like, he had found you. 

Trust was a luxury you couldn’t afford easily.

San returned a few minutes later with a bottle of water, which he handed to you. “Here, drink this. You need to stay hydrated.”

“Thank you,” you said gratefully, taking the bottle with trembling hands. You sipped the cool water and some water fell onto your cleavage, not caring as you were parched for hours under this heat and looking back at San from the corner of your eyes as you noticed his gaze flashed onto your chest then quickly darted your eyes away.

“Oops,” you murmured, glancing up at San with a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that.”

San chuckled softly, his eyes flickering down for a brief moment before meeting yours again. “No worries. It’s hot out here, water doesn’t always go where you want it to.”

Embarrassed, you looked down shyly, your cheeks warming. “I was really thirsty,” you admitted softly, your gaze lingering briefly on his toned stomach before you looked back into his eyes, “Thank you for the help with my car, I really want to thank you for helping me out.”

San chuckled, “It’s alright I’m just being a good samaritan here.”

“No please.” Stopping him with your voice as you look down shyly, “Please let me thank you. How about a treat?” Your own voice turned sultry as you pressed yourself against his bare chest as his eyes widened, “You truly deserve a reward for this all.”

“I’m curious to know what kind of reward that would be.” He blinked slowly, eyes still fixated on yours as he felt your hesitation but the hunger in your gaze? Even a blind man could see that.

Your fingers trailed onto his arms feeling the muscles on his biceps, “Will you let me?” Palming his biceps as your mouth fell open before looking back into his eyes, “The scorching heat always makes me act up.” Looking up at him with innocent eyes as a playful smirk danced onto your lips like snakes ready to slither around him.

Choi San, you could see how this man had the restraint of a monk, quite admirable for a man. 

Yet you were not blind to the thirst in his gaze that you wanted to be the one to quench. San placed his hand on your cheek as he lifted your face up, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips as you smiled at him, “You’re truly something but are you sure it’s what you want.”

“Anything for you Mr cowboy.” 

That was all the consent he needed before he took the scarf off his face, your eyes widened as if you’vr had the air knocked off your lungs, as if he was seizing it not letting it go. You needed this man to mark you right here and there, sharp feline eyes that caused your knees to be weak, sharp jawline with lips begging to be kissed.

A breathy ‘fuck’ rushed past your lips and that was all you could say before he grin, a dimple appearing in the depth of his cheek, “This reward is truly unlike any other, I’ll take it.”

Finally breathing the distance, as San kiss you roughly and fuck, the neediness in your own soul made you feel like a whore but for such a man to whom your arms were wrapped his neck, you could throw your whole dignity out of the window, nothing mattered right now except for how he held your waist and how his lips were so sinful and rough against yours.

Your moans mixed with his grunts as breathy curses escaped your lips, he wasted no time in biting your lips ordering for entrance to which you once more obeyed, your own moans growing louder as his tongue felt like heaven inside of your mouth.

The way he bit your lips was hard, none caring whether blood was oozing out, you wanted only him right now and oxygen wasn’t of your main concern right now as your arms explored his back and gripped onto his jacket.

San was the first one to break the kiss as you both were breathing heavily but his mouth wasted no time in cascading down to your own neck, lips feeling sinful against yours as you felt him chuckle, “How do you want it? How would you like for me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, please let me ride you.”

“I’ll take that reward.” With that, you were pushed away from the car as you pushed San inside the car, his back hitting the seat as you smirked and got on top of him.

“I’ll ride you to tears, cowboy.”

With that your mouth was what found his neck first, wanting to engrave your bite into his skin as your nails scratch onto his chest as he groaned while his hand found the hem of your shirt and you smiled at him, “Since you wanted to see them that bad.” 

You removed off your shirt along with your bra, letting your naked breast to be in full view as you trailed your fingers on them while San take a deep breath looking at your breast before reaching a hand and groping them, your head thrown back with moans rushing past your lips, “Feels so good.”

Quickly straddling onto him as you moan more, his other hand played with your nipple as you whine out more, face lost in pleasure as you rub yourself against his crotch, string of the word ‘fuck’ and ‘feels good’ was what came out your mouth as he praised your breast. “They’re so big and pretty.”

His slender fingers rubbed through them and pinched, eliciting moans from you, “God, you’re so good.”

Your nipples and breast were sure to be red and purplish with how his fingers and hand were abusing them but the pleasure made you care for nothing else. Then he pulled his upper body up as you unintentionally gulped with how close he got to your face, that same dangerous smirk burst onto his lips, “I wonder how they taste now.”

Lowering his head down, as his mouth takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

His gaze looked up at you, mockingly at how you twitched and moaned at his every touch as he tongue swirled around it, sucking on it and biting it while pulling it slightly. San was such a wild teasing beast. 

Opening your mouth to say something but once more you’ve got the air knocked out of your lungs as he blew some air onto your nipple, “Please…” Whining wasn’t one of your trait but instead of you holding the strings, you became his puppet into his hands as he darted out his tongue to lick slowly onto your nipples, “You’re..making me go crazy.”

Once more his taunting chuckle was heard, “Princess…” He began, “You’re already losing yourself on my tongue..” His whisper growing closer to your ear, “Are you sure you can take my cock?”

You were shaking and breathing heavily too bad to even reply to him, the pleasure coursing through your veins felt too good as he whispered once more, “Let me play with you a little more before that. I will make you cum three times, so better behave like a good girl and I want you to orgasm by rubbing yourself on me.”

“Pl..please— uh ah, ‘s too s-sensitive.”

Your own words betrayed your actions as you began to rub yourself against his clothed crotch, already feeling how big his bulge was as your mouth dropped open into a silent scream, your hand reached down to touch him but he grab onto your hand, amusement swirl into his stare, “Be a good girl and obey but let me make it easier for you.”

He worked onto the buttons of your shorts as he pulled them down slightly to reveal how damp your underwear already got, “Now you can hump.”

His words lead you into a trance as you obeyed, head thrown back with your hand resting onto his broad shoulders as you rubbed yourself and as time goes, you gasped out and shameless rub yourself against his crotch to chase your highs, “Fuck… fuck oh fuck… so good.”

Time seems to be lost for you, as it felt like hours how you came with only mere minutes, yet he was still hard. Your underwear is already messy from the stain of your own orgasm but his words resonate in your mind, he will make you go to orgasms two more times.

“You can now ride me princess.”

“What..” You breath out, he truly had fucked you dumb.

His dimple appeared once more, his fingers reached to your underwear as he just ripped it, “Sit on me princess, show me how good you’re at riding.”

The cockiness that drip from his tone made you even more aroused yet you completely almost forgot what lead you to be such a needy whore to be begging for this man’s cock like that, “Take your time, I don’t want you to get hurt although it seem you will be enjoying getting bruised up.”

Audacity danced like shadows into your gaze, as your fingers trailed his sharp jawline, “Don’t worry handsome, we will see who will have the last words.” Already unbuckling his belt, pulling down the zipper and pushing down his pants along with his boxer as you watched his cock being released out from its restraint.

And, fuck.

Choi San was exactly to your liking, your gaze never leaving how hard he was right now, the veins were protruding and the tip already was leaking from pre-cum, seem like the way you were humping against as if you were in heat indeed had an effect on him, his tip was raging red and for someone who wasn’t a fan of sucking, you would’ve broken all the rules just for your mouth and tongue to get a taste of this man’s cock.

“God, you’re making me act so bad.” You moan out, reaching your fingers down to touch yourself but he stops you, you watched him as he wrapped his hand around his cock as he lazily pumped it watching how your naked breast moved.

Seeing where his gaze was at, you touched your breast and moaned out pinching your own nipple as you mewled out, pressing them together as you cursed as you looked back at him as he gripped hard on his cock, “Do you enjoy the show? Well let’s not waste any time then.”

Moving slightly more on top of him, liming up yourself closer to his cock, lining it against your entrance. Moving up before, you felt the tip of his cock to slide inside of you and this already got you to want to act feral, yet you calmed yourself down and rested on his pelvis and moved your hips in slow circles as your own breathing grew heavy.

“What?” Whining out as he grabbed your ass.

“Do it properly princess, you promised me a good show right?”

The cockiness in his sinful voice felt like heaven on this earth, raising your hips slightly before you sank yourself onto his cock and cursed out, he was big, way bigger than you expected or you were just too small for him.

Looking back at him, pleased at how pleasure was written all over his face, mouth opened slightly as he looked up at you, “You’re bigger…than I expected.”

“Come on baby, I’m sure you can do it.”

His praises were all you needed as well as how his lips parted and breathy grunts and groans was all you could hear for him, making the hunger inside of you to get even bigger.

”Let’s see what you got.” With that you wasted no time, placing your hand onto his shoulders, nails digging his skin as you moved up, feeling how perfectly his cock was sliding into of you, you couldn’t even fathom to tease him betrayed by your own lust as you slammed down hard onto him with a loud fuck from the both of you.

Wanting to be more in control and wanting to chase your own highs especially how his hand fondled onto your breast, you increase your own pace and the feeling of his cock inside of you made you to bounce even more onto him, arching your back as you moved even wildly as he cursed out, “F-fuck princess.. God you’re—fuck, so f-fast. Want to slow d-down?” 

Once more, you’ve moved up before slamming down on his moaning out and this time chuckling, “You can take it.”

San’s head falling back against the seat as you smile, “I think…I love this.. Having you like this.” Moving even more, “I can touch you all I want to cowboy.” You can feel his hand gripping tighter on your ass, “You’re driving me too wild.”

“Fuck I’m so near.” San cursed out as you giggled before slowing down as he cursed more before his hand spanked your ass hard at your teasing as you giggle more before moving even more slowly and before he could say anything else, you slammed yourself hard into him more and picking up your space, up and down harder on his cock.

“I’ll be the one to decide when you can come.” San lost it when your hips rolled even more sensually around him, your nails creating moon crescent mark into his skin, your thighs sticking to his skin, your both body drenched in sweat at how wild you’ve been, running a ran through your hair as you moaned out, “You cock feel so good inside of me, y-you want to come now.”

Fingers once more tracing across his neck and jawline as you movement never stop, he had been so lost into the pleasure and how your movement were that he didn’t even thrust, your brush off the hair that stick to his forehead as you slammed once more into him, “You…are allowed to come now.” 

With one last slam to your core as you reach your own climax, you remove yourself from him as white strings of cum stains the inside of your car.

Exhaustion took a toll on your body as you almost fell on him but he was the one who dragged you down as you both came down from your high with ragged breathing escaping the both of you, your hand rested onto his bare chest with your naked body shaking and pressed up against him.

San ran a hand through his hair as he smiled, “Fuck that was wild.”

“Hope your reward was worth it.” Breathing out completely tired.

His voice came out as warm, “It was totally worth it.”

For a while, you both enjoyed the silence, waiting for your breath to become more steady, “I’ll get myself cleaned up at a nearby hotel then I will be leaving except if you want to take more from your reward.” 

“You’re truly something else.” San laughed, yet you could feel how jovial he looked, “But I lived nearby so you can get clean up there and maybe some food if you haven’t eaten yet, they serve the best tacos here, maybe that will make you want to come here often.”

Chuckling as you get off his chest smiling as you slip on your shirt, “Well if I can get good food and a good dick, I’ll surely be coming here more often.”

“Oh.” San realized something, “With all what had happened I forgot to introduce myself, I’m Choi San.”

You knew of his name already, that’s what you were here for afterall.

“Nice to meet you Choi San.” Replying with a giggle as you help him with his clothes as you introduce yourself, “I’ll follow you from my car, so lead the way San.”

As you watched him getting into his own truck, you smile turned into a frown as you picked up your phone and dial someone’s number and the voice of a man greeted you through the phone, “Yes, I’ve found him, no worries, they’ll have to go through me if they even think of laying their hand on... him.”

[spooky-pop]

What base shapes do you keep in mind while drawing, im absolutely terrible at getting proportions right?

Ok apologies in advance because I am NOT great at explaining things.

When I start drawing any character I ALWAYS start with shapes. I feel it's important to get familiar with your subject before you draw it and with enough practice it'll start sticking in your brain. There is no harm grabbing renders or screencaps and tracing over them to get an idea of shapes! I absolutely did a lot of studies that way before I got comfy drawing trolls. Breaking things down to their basic form is important, it helps you visualize shape and volume! So when I draw Trolls, it's a lot of round shapes, bean shapes, and triangles. I made an example with this image of Poppy:

Adding in guidelines is important because it can help you figure out placement for facial features and what direction you'll be drawing them. This is an example of how my starter sketches would look, with similar shapes to this! I just start slapping down shapes and worry about the details much later. I also almost ALWAYS draw this eye mask because it really helps me figure out eye and brow placement.

Now, I have another breakdown but this time with my own rough sketch of Darcey:

Again, more shapes to figure out form. And I sort of make this "mitten" shape to block out hands. You can make edits from this point on to get proportions and perspectives right.

But yeah, this is the shortest simplest explanation I can give regarding the beginning of my process. Understanding and grasping volume is a big thing for me!

[sillylotrpolls]

(Relevant text below the poll)

Inspired by this post by @roselightfairy and replies by @herrhasen, @enide-s-dear, @unnamedelement, @dragonfirez, and @carlandrea.

If you'd like to refresh your memory of the Fellowship at its bitchiest (and Boromir at his best), the relevant text is below the cut.

Excerpted from The Fellowship of the Ring, Book II, Chapter 3: The Ring Goes South

Gimli looked up and shook his head. 'Caradhras has not forgiven us.' he said. 'He has more snow yet to fling at us, if we go on. The sooner we go back and down the better.'

To this all agreed, but their retreat was now difficult. It might well prove impossible. Only a few paces from the ashes of their fire the snow lay many feet deep, higher than the heads of the hobbits; in places it had been scooped and piled by the wind into great drifts against the cliff.

'If Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you,' said Legolas. The storm had troubled him little, and he alone of the Company remained still light of heart.

'If Elves could fly over mountains, they might fetch the Sun to save us,' answered Gandalf. 'But I must have something to work on. I cannot burn snow.'

'Well,' said Boromir, 'when heads are at a loss bodies must serve, as we say in my country. The strongest of us must seek a way. See! Though all is now snow-clad, our path, as we came up, turned about that shoulder of rock down yonder. It was there that the snow first began to burden us. If we could reach that point, maybe it would prove easier beyond. It is no more than a furlong off, I guess.'

'Then let us force a path thither, you and I!' said Aragorn.

Aragorn was the tallest of the Company, but Boromir, little less in height, was broader and heavier in build. He led the way, and Aragorn followed him. Slowly they moved off, and were soon toiling heavily. In places the snow was breast-high, and often Boromir seemed to be swimming or burrowing with his great arms rather than walking.

Legolas watched them for a while with a smile upon his lips, and then he turned to the others. 'The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf or over snow-an Elf.'

With that he sprang forth nimbly, and then Frodo noticed as if for the first time, though he had long known it, that the Elf had no boots, but wore only light shoes, as he always did, and his feet made little imprint in the snow.

'Farewell!' he said to Gandalf. 'I go to find the Sun!' Then swift as a runner over firm sand he shot away, and quickly overtaking the toiling men, with a wave of his hand he passed them, and sped into the distance, and vanished round the rocky turn.

The others waited huddled together, watching until Boromir and Aragorn dwindled into black specks in the whiteness. At length they too passed from sight. The time dragged on. The clouds lowered, and now a few flakes of snow came curling down again.

An hour, maybe, went by, though it seemed far longer, and then at last they saw Legolas coming back. At the same time Boromir and Aragorn reappeared round the bend far behind him and came labouring up the slope.

'Well,' cried Legolas as he ran up, 'I have not brought the Sun. She is walking in the blue fields of the South, and a little wreath of snow on this Redhorn hillock troubles her not at all. But I have brought back a gleam of good hope for those who are doomed to go on feet. There is the greatest winddrift of all just beyond the turn, and there our Strong Men were almost buried. They despaired, until I returned and told them that the drift was little wider than a wall. And on the other side the snow suddenly grows less, while further down it is no more than a white coverlet to cool a hobbit's toes.'

'Ah, it is as I said,' growled Gimli. 'It was no ordinary storm. It is the ill will of Caradhras. He does not love Elves and Dwarves, and that drift was laid to cut off our escape.'

'But happily your Caradhras has forgotten that you have Men with you,' said Boromir, who came up at that moment. 'And doughty Men too, if I may say it; though lesser men with spades might have served you better. Still, we have thrust a lane through the drift; and for that all here may be grateful who cannot run as light as Elves.'

'But how are we to get down there, even if you have cut through the drift?' said Pippin, voicing the thought of all the hobbits.

'Have hope!' said Boromir. 'I am weary, but I still have some strength left, and Aragorn too. We will bear the little folk. The others no doubt will make shift to tread the path behind us. Come, Master Peregrin! I will begin with you.'

He lifted up the hobbit. 'Cling to my back! I shall need my arms' he said and strode forward. Aragorn with Merry came behind. Pippin marvelled at his strength, seeing the passage that he had already forced with no other tool than his great limbs. Even now, burdened as he was, he was widening the track for those who followed, thrusting the snow aside as he went.

They came at length to the great drift. It was flung across the mountainpath like a sheer and sudden wall, and its crest, sharp as if shaped with knives, reared up more than twice the height of Boromir; but through the middle a passage had been beaten, rising and falling like a bridge. On the far side Merry and Pippin were set down, and there they waited with Legolas for the rest of the Company to arrive.

After a while Boromir returned carrying Sam. Behind in the narrow but now well-trodden track came Gandalf, leading Bill with Gimli perched among the baggage. Last came Aragorn carrying Frodo. They passed through the lane; but hardly had Frodo touched the ground when with a deep rumble there rolled down a fall of stones and slithering snow. The spray of it half blinded the Company as they crouched against the cliff, and when the air cleared again they saw that the path was blocked behind them.

'Enough, enough!' cried Gimli. 'We are departing as quickly as we may!'

And indeed with that last stroke the malice of the mountain seemed to be expended, as if Caradhras was satisfied that the invaders had been beaten off and would not dare to return. The threat of snow lifted; the clouds began to break and the light grew broader.

As Legolas had reported, they found that the snow became steadily more shallow as they went down, so that even the hobbits could trudge along. Soon they all stood once more on the flat shelf at the head of the steep slope where they had felt the first flakes of snow the night before.

[hoodedjelly]

Nicktoons unite main 4 in their respected styles ( minus jimmy neutron i'll explain more below)

i feel very mixed about these but it was still fun either way studying all of these cartoons respected styles. the final does make me happy, seeing all of them together ^__^ 💞

below i will explain my thought process working with each style so get ready for a wall of text:

first before anything you may be asking: why no jimmy neutron style!? it's because i tried and gave up! i was starting the rendering process for timmy and i hated it so i just didn't continue! no point of making myself miserable for something thats harmless fun style studies. but have these as a little treat:

Fairly Oddparents style: the easiest style to work on and research for, fop style is not that complex. i should also add i didn't draw each style in one sitting i drew each character together and then edited them all, so that might be the reason why some look better then others, i just got good. but i'm saying that because the character i started with was spongebob! specifically because i was tired of ppl thinking dp style and fop style are the same and how spongebob would look the same in both styles, just a flat square. which is wrong! fop style is very different! i would prob describe it as a flat paper style. has sharp and rounded thick lines. the main source of research i used for it was the designer for fop was Ernie Gilbert. he has designed a lot of iconic characters for the show and i highly would check out his work, this is his website

Danny phantom style: now this one was tricky, prob the hardest one to figure out and i honestly don't think i really DID figure it out. the possible reason is i am still trying to go through the show atm myself, but i'd doubt it. they all just look off to me, just a little. which no need for me to work myself in a circle trying to make it "perfect". im no professional character designer! especially not Stephen Silver.

Spongebob Squarepants style: this one was tricky but in the opposite way to dp style, where i didn't know what to reference! to start off the show is mainly nonhuman characters, so finding character refs were hard. the refs i did use were the mermaids and the superheros, so i used that for timmy. but in the middle of working on jimmys i was watching a video of someone ranking every single spongebob ep and TURNS OUT in the later seasons, i think season 13, there were human designs! (technically elfs but whatever).

and weirder thing is how they draw patchy but im not going to get into that. i am assuming that style is for characters that are supposed to be real life humans up on land in that universe (but why not just use real life humans? idk, maybe tom kenny is getting to old for the role). BUT ANYWAY, i used the elfs for a main source for jimmy and danny, they turned out a lot better then the timmy in my eyes. i wanted at least one of them to have the black eyes but they all have bright blue eyes and the show usually always colors blue eyes. i get ahead of myself cause there was a lot more factors i still had to figure out. like the line art. the show doesn't have a clear line style like dp or fop, its just relatively consistent medium lines. so i just went with more recent show stuff then older stuff since it's HD.

ok but thats basically it, i can prob go on more but i'd feel no one gaf. i made these for fun and it was fun making them! i love all of these shows a ton so it was nice looking up the designers and artist for these shows. support the artists!!! fuck bitch fartman!!!!!

[norrizzandpia]

Lacy (Part 2) (Lando’s Ending)

Summary: In which the two soulmates finally get together.

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos at the end, everything’s depressing for a bit

Note: SURPRISE YALL!!!!! I ended up staying home from classes today because I got my period and it hurts so fucking bad 😀 so anyways I took this time to write Lando’s ending and let me tell you THIS EATS so grab the popcorn and the tissues and strap in because this concludes the lacy trilogy 😭

LANDO POV

There’s a specific quiet in the wake of the moment when you realize you had been in love with your best friend for as long as you knew her. It’s a quiet that is not peaceful whatsoever. Rather, it’s a chaotic, loud, and painful quiet which twists your insides and makes you want to smack your head against the nearest wall.

That’s the quiet I experience when Luisinha walks into the room and I find myself wishing it was Y/n.

“We need to break up.” I stutter out, my brain not thinking as it dawns on me the confusion toward the feelings I had for Y/n was anything but that. I never should’ve felt confused because it was right in front of me. My love for her had always been there, lingering in the background as I admired her smile. To think I waited this long and pushed her this far away only to realize I needed her is something indescribable.

Luisinha’s face falls as she sits down beside me on the couch, “What?”

Shaking my head, I look in her eyes, “I’m so sorry, Luisinha, but I think I’m just not ready to be with you right now.”

“Because of her.” Her arms cross over her chest as she tilts her head, “So, when I asked you to choose between me and her, and you chose me, that was… what? Confusion?”

“No, I- It was…” I’m rendered speechless as I try to explain myself, “It was a dick move. I’m sorry. I never should’ve shut her out and I never should’ve treated you the way I did. When you asked me to choose, I hadn’t thought about the fact that she’s always been my best friend and she’s been there for me for longer than you have. This isn’t to say I didn’t love you or adore the time I had with you. It’s just me realizing that I’ve gone so long needing her and that will never change.”

Her somber nodding adds another knife to my heart, the amount tripling by the minute as she takes in another one of my mistakes, “You love her? Be honest this time, Lando. I know I asked you this same question after that night when Max and I found you two close on the Monaco street, but I need to know the truth. No matter how much it hurts. So, tell me. Do you love her?”

Sighing, I come to terms with it all, “Yes, I do. I’m not sure when it happened, but I think it’s always been there.”

“You loved her while you were with me?” Her teary eyes meet mine.

Water wells in my eyes, matching her brokenness, “I’m sorry, Luisinha. Truly, I never knew it for sure until I stopped talking to her after choosing you. If I would’ve known before having met you, I wouldn’t have dragged you into this. I’m regretful of how I handled everything, but I’m not regretful of you. I never will be. I hope you won’t be too.”

She shakes her head, “No, I’m not. It just hurts to know your boyfriend loves someone else and be told it’s not true, that you’re crazy, only to be proven right when he can’t go a second without her.”

I expel a breath, “I’m so shit for this. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to make it up to you.”

She gets up from the couch, grabbing her bag off the counter and making her way to the door, “I’m not the person you need to make it up to, Lando. You apologized to me, that’s enough. But, Y/n? There’s a lot of groveling needed to fix that fuckup you made.”

—

Walking into the McLaren Garage, I feel hopeful. Hopeful that when I explain the past few months to Y/n, that she’ll understand; hopeful that she’ll let me love her openly; hopeful that she’ll love me again.

The infamous papaya colors comfort me once more as I round the corner, going to the one place I know she’ll be.

Hospitality. Probably making friends with everyone she sees, knowing every soul that catches a glimpse of her is immediately enthralled and obsessed.

Just like I was.

My eyes land on her, in a white sundress that makes my world stop, and a smile graces my face at her laughter. My eyes wander to the person beside her, the one that had conjured the sweet noise out of her, and find Oscar.

My heart drops for a moment, but then plummets to my feet when I see his hand over hers on the table in front of them and her other hand wrapped around his arm as she tips back in her chair, still lost in the laughter. I stop in my tracks, observing their behavior like my life depends on it, trying desperately to figure out the depth of their partnership.

I must be standing for an awkwardly long time because Mark, Oscar’s manager, comes up next to me, a small, pitiful smile on his face as he states, “Weird, yeah? Everyone’s trying to figure out if they’re together or not. Apparently he was the only person she would see after you broke things off with her.”

The air in my lungs renders empty, completely leaving me and the rest of the life left in my body. My eyes dart over them, that comforting hopefulness draining from my being as they continue their conversation like it’s second nature.

I seem to drown in my emotions, not responding to Mark as he nudges me to a secluded corner of a random hallway. His hands on my arms, he dips down to meet me at eye level, “Lando, you need to pull it together. She’s finally getting better, do not ruin that for her. If she sees you fawning over her, that’ll confuse her and all the progress she’s made will go to shit. I’m begging you, do not screw this up.”

My mouth opens and closes as I try to form some sort of sentence, something to describe the crushing pain that has numbed me and taken things from me I never knew could be taken.

“I was going to try and win her back.” I mumble.

He immediately shakes his head, “Absolutely not. If it’s the last thing I say, do not get near her. You cause her unnecessary pain. At least do it for her, Lando. Leave her alone.”

“But, Mark-” I begin, but he’s quick to cut me off.

“No, Lando. Just, no.” At that, he lets go of me and walks off, as if he hadn’t just crushed specific dreams of mine and left them to die a slow death.

Cruelly, in the distance, I hear her laughing again and my heart shatters at my feet.

Knowing she laughs with him now, instead of me?

I will never come back from that.

—

“I tried calling her the other day. She declined it.” Max states, hands running through his hair as he looks at the screen and makes sure we’re muted.

My fingers hover over her contact under the table, but they don’t move to press it, too scared to really know the outcome.

“I do this everyday. It’s torture.”

The chat blows up on the screen as people ask what we’re doin that warrants muting, but both Max and I ignore it.

“Why don’t you just talk to her? I’m sure she wants closure too.” Max tries.

I shake my head, “She wants closure. I just want her.”

Max rolls his eyes, “So, tell her that.”

“She’s with Oscar!” I exclaim, throwing my hands out and confusing the viewers of our stream even more.

“You don’t know that!” He mirrors my position, both of us staring each other down.

Huffing, I shift back in my chair, turning the microphone back on and effectively ending the conversation.

Max eyes me as he vaguely states, “Lando, you don’t know. We both know you don’t know if that is correct or not. All we know is that they’re friends which they always have been.”

Messages from fans asking who we’re talking about, some getting it perfectly right as they suggest we’re talking about the dating rumors between Oscar and Y/n.

“I don’t want to talk about this with you anymore.” I dish out, tension arising in the room at my aggressive tone.

“Yeah, because we both know I’m right.” He smirks as if my feelings and this situation are entertaining.

“Fuck off, Max. I’m serious.”

Patting my back, he gentles his choice of words, “I know, mate. I know.”

—

MAX F POV

Knocking on her door, I clutch the chocolates in my hand in a death grip. I’m so nervous to see her, nervous that she’ll shut me out and never forgive me.

My mind’s loud and messy as the lock clicks and the wooden slab opens slightly, Y/n’s face peeking through.

When she catches sight of me, her fingers begin to push the door shut again, but my foot is quicker as it wedges in between it.

“Max,” She starts exasperatingly, “I’m not interested in talking to you.”

I nod my head, “I know, I know, but just hear me out, Y/n. You’re my best friend. Please.”

My pleading seems to work as she sighs and then opens her door, gesturing for me to come in. The foyer looks different and I’m not sure why until I realize it's because, whenever I would come over, I would see something of Lando’s strewn on the floor or bench. However, the only papaya I see now is a jacket which has Oscar’s name on it.

She seems to catch what my eyes have landed on, “He’s not here. He forgot that last night.”

My eyebrows rise, looking at her questionably, “Oh?”

She rolls her eyes, “Don’t push it, Max.”

Nodding, I follow her further into the house, still feeling weird that Lando’s presence isn’t blaring like it had been months ago. When we reach the kitchen, she sits down on one of the stools, moving the one beside her further out for me to take place in.

“Let’s settle this like adults then, yeah?” She gives a light smile, restoring hope inside me that she’ll give thought to my redemption.

Once I’m settled, I look her in the eyes and recite what I had practiced in the car, “I am so incredibly sorry for not being the true friend I should’ve been during the Lando situation. I should’ve been there for you, should’ve stood up for you and I never should’ve gone along with him and Luisinha pushing you out of the group. There’s only a few things I regret in life and this is absolutely one of them, the worst one by far. You have been nothing, but the greatest person to me ever since Lando introduced us. I should’ve met you with the same behavior, same loyalty, and I always said I would when it was needed, but when the situation arose, I fucking failed you miserably. You never deserved anything that was shoved in your face and I am so sorry I sat on the sidelines, letting it happen. Y/n, I miss you. I miss my best friend and I’m asking you to forgive me because I won’t fucking screw this up again.”

Her tears strike something in me, something protective as I pull her into a hug.

Her tears wet my shirt as she says, “Yeah, I didn’t fucking deserve any of that. You both were so shitty to me. I never did anything to you.”

I nod, running a hand over her back, “I know, I know. And I’m so fucking sorry.”

She pulls away, rubbing away her tears, “It’s not even you that hurt me the most. It’s Lando. I gave him everything and he still threw me to the fucking curb when it was most convienant for him. I hate him so fucking much, Max.”

I know what she says is false because I can see it in her eyes how much she yearns for him to tell her everything they’ve been tiptoeing around their whole lives. I see it in the way she doesn’t seek comfort in me, but in him, and I see it in the way she forgives me so quickly because the love she holds for me will never be as great as the love she will always hold for him.

“You don’t mean that.”

She stands up, frustrated, “Yes, I do!”

Walking over to her and grabbing her wrists, forcing her eyes to meet mine, I said pointedly, “No, you don’t.”

her resolve breaks completely and the tears wrack her body. Falling into me, she cries, “No, I don’t.”

—

LANDO POV

Seeing her standing below the podiums, in the crowd, cheering in her papaya colors is a type of pain I will always remember because I know she isn’t cheering for me.

She’s cheering for the man standing beside me, the man standing on the third place podium with a trophy in his hands as the Australian flag waves on the screen behind him.

P1 should feel better than this, but it proves to feel like absolute shit as the one thing I truly want isn’t even here to support me. The celebration is frantic and quick as I will myself to hold back the tears trying so hard to break free especially when Oscar leans over the railing to smile down at her, waving, as she screams louder, giving him the same smile she had given me multiple times when I was in the same position.

I watch her watch him, her eyes gleaming with pride. It’s hard to see her forget about me, shut out memories of her cheering for me when she probably gets Deja vu as she does the same thing for someone else.

For months, I’ve tried to mold myself into something she would miss, show only parts of myself on social media that would specifically call out to her, but, still, I’ve come up empty.

I’m bitter as we step back into McLaren’s headquarters on the paddock, and when Oscar tries to congratulate me, I dismiss him harshly. Shoving his hand off my shoulder and storming off to my room, wanting quiet, but not the quiet that only holds memories of her and all we could’ve been.

I’m with my thoughts for a few moments until there’s a small knock on my door. Standing up and going to open it, I’m about to tell off whoever has come to disturb my own personal hell, but when I catch a glimpse of her y/h/c hair, I’m quick to shut my mouth.

“I came to congratulate you.” She says, her voice quiet and unassuming.

There are tears in her eyes as she says, “I know we haven’t spoken, but I also know how much your first win means to you. I know how great you're probably feeling and I don’t want to disrupt that, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t tell you how proud of you I am.”

My voice quivers as my eyes go blurry, tears building up in them, “You think I feel good? You think I’m happy?”

Her nodding has me shaking my head, “No, Y/n, I’m not. I haven’t been since we stopped talking. This isn’t fun. Seeing you cheer for him, seeing you laugh at his jokes and stay by his side. None of this makes this win what we both thought it would be. This win will only be everything we chalked it up to be if you would listen to what I have to tell you.”

Her eyebrows furrow, “Lando, you stopped talking to me. You almost told me you loved me and then, the next day, just went fucking silent.”

I nod, “I know and I’m sorry, but she made me choose.”

Her eyes widened, “Luisinha made you choose between us and you chose her? Well, that’s fucking perfect, Lando!”

I shake my head vigorously, “No! Fuck. No, Y/n. That’s not how I meant it to sound.”

She puts her hands on her hips, jutting it out, and, usually, I’d laugh at the sassy pose, but, now, it just makes me want to hold her and kiss her, tell her how much I’ve loved her all this time.

“How’d you mean it to sound then, Lando?”

Groaning, I threw my hands out beside me, “I meant that, yes, I chose her, but after a few days, I realized that was a stupid decision because…” My eyes meet hers as I yell, “Because I fucking love you! I’m in love with you! I always have been. There has never been a time where I didn’t have the overwhelming need to have you be mine and I was just so confused by that feeling that I only realized it when you were gone. I broke up with Luisinha the second I figured my shit out and ever since then I’ve had to endure your happiness with Oscar! I’m so sorry for everything I put you through and the hurt I enabled that you never deserved, but it’s bull-fucking-shit, Y/n. I was going to do everything in my power to win you back and, not just as a friend this time, win you back, so we could finally be what we’ve always wanted to be. But, no! Just when I allowed myself to lean into the feelings I have for you, you got with Oscar and I’ve had to deal with the fact that I lost you to him this whole time. It’s worse than hell, Y/n. It’s worse than anything I’ve ever felt in my entire life.”

Her body visibly tenses, “Are you fucking kidding me, Lando?! Oscar and I aren’t together!”

My mind goes quiet, “What?”

She scoffs, “We were never together! He was helping me get over you! Which proved to be hard because I haven’t yet.”

I shake my head, utter annoyance at my own stupidity, “So, that was never a thing?”

She throws her head back, “Oh my fucking god, Lando, if I didn’t love you, I’d kill you. No, we were never a thing. Oscar was just the one friend I had during the dark part of my life where I tried to move on from you.”

My jaw dropped as I looked at her, my brain trying to form some kind of response, “I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

She nods, “Yeah, you fucking should be. You took so long to realize your feelings for me and then took longer because you read into something that always has been and always will be platonic.”

I drop my head down, but it’s moved up when her hands cup my chin and force my eyes to meet hers, “Lan, why’d you make it so complicated?”

Shaking my head, I exhale, “Because my feelings for you are complicated.”

She smiles lightly, “No, they aren’t.”

I mirror her smile, “No, they aren’t. They’re as clear as day. I love you.”

Her giggling restores the life into my body I lost all that time ago, “Say it again,”

Her wish is my command, always, “I love you.”

I continue to say it softly as I lean down, my hands winding around her hips and pulling her into me as I kiss her. Our first kiss seems to be the best one I’ve ever experienced as her touch glides across my neck and my hands grip the skin of her back after having pushed their way under her shirt. It’s soft and slow, representing the love we found between us. When she pulls away, her face millimeters away from mine, she asks, “Does this make your first race win everything you thought it would be?”

I chuckle, kissing her once more before pulling her into my room and shutting the door, “Yes, but I have an idea of how you could make it even better.”

Her eyebrows rise as my hands begin to move her shirt up and off her body, “Yeah?”

Taking in the start of her bare, gorgeous body, I nod slowly, smirking mischievously, “Oh, yeah.”