#back and shoulder muscles on pure display

[dipperscavern]

I’m on my period and instead of craving chocolate I want cregan stark to fuck me really hard and break my bed

-🗡️

#RealShit #AboutThisLife #BedBreakingBadBoy #FuckedMyGirlSoGoodSheFainted #BedFaintedToo #CouldntHandleAllat #AuraTooStrong

[yawnderu]

Sharing an air bnb with Nikto during mandatory leave because you trust each other. Finally getting to see his face, cuddling in a big jacuzzi tub.

Gaining Nikto's trust wasn't easy. The behemoth of a man had a fragmented mind, too broken from Zakhaev's torture, and yet the utmost effort you put into getting to know him proved fruitful after months.

“Jesus fuck. Put that thing away, Misha.” Your attempts at shielding your eyes are met with a laugh, feeling the water shift around your body, a mass of pure warm muscle pressing on your side. 

“... Is it hidden now?” His eyes crinkle, the smile of pure amusement hidden beneath his mask. Nikto doesn’t feel uncomfortable with nudity, and while joining you in the jacuzzi only happened because of the vodka warming his stomach up and giving him liquid courage, he was enjoying your reaction.

“Да. You can look now.” Your fingers part in front of your eyes, glancing up at him before looking down, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when you realize the bubbles are covering his lower body. 

“I wasn’t expecting to be greeted by… cock.” Despite the initial surprise, there’s nothing but pure mirth dancing with your words. You feel his arm drape over your shoulder, pulling you closer, the smell of hard liquor hitting your nose, explaining why he’s being touchier than usual. 

“You’re welcome.” Despite how unpleasant and rowdy Nikto can be, your company served as a soothing balm, a small break from all the chaos going on in his head. There’s hesitation in his actions as he reaches towards the straps of his mask, his fingers stilling for a few seconds, your curious eyes looking up at him with an innocence that he finds endearing. 

“I take it off sometimes.” Not exactly a lie, yet not exactly the trust either— Nikto does remove his mask, though never in the presence of anyone else. The fear of getting judged for his face scars will always be there, and it took him months to gather the courage to even think about showing it to you.

The straps of his mask are removed with little to no effort, yet he doesn’t fully remove the mask yet. You can see the fear and doubt dancing within his light blue eyes as he holds the rough material, the only barrier between both of you. “I’m not going to judge, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Your reassurance is accompanied by your hand running up and down his back, gentle caresses that he never allowed himself to receive from anyone, until you came along. It seemed to be the only confirmation he needed, as the mask slips off, placed on a table nearby before he finally turns to look at you. 

You admire his features for the first time, your eyes running all over his face for a few seconds. Nikto has a slightly crooked nose —likely from being broken one too many times—, the skin on his face more pale than the rest of his body, and the scars lingering all over his face. They look like chemical burns, running from his chin, up to his forehead, his skin tainted in a light red color. 

“You look pretty.” Pretty. The word almost makes him scoff, his gaze drifting around the jacuzzi before looking back at you, pure vulnerability in his expression. 

“I’m serious.” You insist, leaning closer to him before your wet hand reaches up, cupping his cheek. The suddenness of your actions is almost enough to make him flinch, and yet he decides to stay still, a part of him craving the praise after so many years of being lonely, of being broken. 

Your thumb runs along his skin, being extra careful with his scars, even if they no longer hurt physically. The reverence in your eyes mirrors his, nothing but pure trust and worship displayed in your actions. Your soft finger runs across his cracked bottom lip, taking your time to continue admiring his features before he closes the distance, his lips crashing against yours.

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Urged

I think this was the photo that got me in. Of course I get the appeal now. But at the time I thought I was just messaging some other random torso on the apps. I was supposed to just be in and out, no strings attached. After all, he wasn’t my usual type. Looked like a roided out gym rat: bit of a gut; dark, wiry hair; and thick muscles. But muscles weren’t the thickest thing about him, and who was I to pass up a good time?

So I went over to his place. I wasn’t surprised when it was a loft above a small gym. Seemed like the ideal spot for the kind of guy. What I was not expecting was the apartment itself to be so…nice? Normal? I was prepared to get fucked on a twin-sized mattress on the floor, no frame, with sweaty clothes rotting around me. But the apartment had some character. He even offered me something to drink before we got started, in an actual glass. Maybe I needed to raise my standards. We chatted, flirted a bit as I finished my water and let things get hot from there. We kissed in the kitchen, made out in the living room, and worked our way back to his bedroom as sweatshirts, belts, shirts, pants, and straps trailed behind us.

As I positioned a pillow under myself, he took off his wife beater, the last barrier between us. The shirtless torso that seduced me was on full display as I rubbed his chest. As he leaned in to kiss me, I felt engulfed by this bear of a man, skin electric where I felt his hair ticking my bare chest. My senses felt heightened as I tasted cheap beer on his breath and smelled a deep musk of sweat, cum, and Old Spice, more in line with what I had expected from him. He ran his calloused hands over my chest and abs before finally taking up position over my trembling body. I wanted him in a way I hadn’t felt since I was a teen. Normally I would want to talk a bit more, at least give a safe word. But as he surrounded me and I felt his presence, my brain flipped a switch as my body instinctively relaxed for him. There were no thoughts to be had as my mind was consumed by his rich scent, the pleasure of his cock slowly stretching out my ass, and his intense gaze set on my fluttering eyes. At last I felt his bush pressed against my clenching ass. He lingered for just a moment, every throb of his member sending shivers through my body. He leaned in and whispered, “You feeling good, baby?”

I could only moan a bit in response. Feeling his weight bear down on me and his cock in my ass left no room for words. He shoved his pit in my face and I instinctively took a deep huff. Any resistance and tension left in my body released. I felt filled by him, just a vessel for his use. I was about to stick out my tongue when he pulled back and repositioned himself. He held my shoulders as he began moving his hips.

As he slowly began to fuck me, I felt him reach new depths within myself.

“There you go, much better. Let yourself just float”

I couldn’t resist him even if I wanted to. His cock methodically jackhammering my hole had my body riding wave after wave of pleasure. Then, I felt him tense up a bit as his cock swelled just a bit more telling me what was to come. He buried it deep as a pressure built within myself. A few more thrust from him and I shot my load over his furry chest. My mind could no longer handle it. I slipped off into a void of pure bliss, as this stranger collapsed on top of me, feeling his damp fur against my body and filling my senses once again with his musk.

I woke up the next day back in my own bedroom. No one else around. No signs of trouble. No clue how I got back. If the whole experience hadn’t been so vivid, I would have thought I dreamt the whole thing. But as I rolled myself out of bed and into the bathroom, one change became very clear.

Seemingly overnight I had lost my smooth skin and dirty blonde curls. In its place was hair. Thick, dark, course hair. It covered my chest, my arms, my back, even my crotch. I was shocked but, also, something else began to tickle at my brain. I took off my tank to get a better look at the forest. I flexed my muscles and admired the way it coated my chest and seemed to exaggerate its size. I hit a double bicep pose and smelled a familiar scent. The scent of sweat and heat and masculinity. My mind flooded with images of that night as my cock stood at attention. I shoved my face into my own pit as I bagan jacking off in front of the mirror, admiring my new body. It felt strange but satisfying, watching this stranger in the mirror mimic my every move as I lusted for him. I didn’t realize how far I had gone until I saw the stream hitting the mirror. It was hot, but something still didn’t feel right. As I cleaned up the restroom, I picked up my razor and considered cleaning myself up a bit. But as I lifted it to my face, I noticed my newly hairy pits. Exposing them, the scent of last night invaded my mind again and I couldn’t follow through. I finished getting dressed and I left for the day. With a busy schedule, maybe I could get some answers tomorrow. I think that was the last chance I had to do something, divert from the path laid out for me. But looking back, I don’t know if I would have changed a thing.

No day was as sharp a change as the first, but each morning as I looked myself in the mirror, something was a bit different. Maybe it was the sharpness of my jaw. Or were my pecs always this swoll? One week I swore my feet were growing larger. There is no way that they always slapped the ground like that. But my shoes always fit perfectly. Heck I may even need a new pair soon. My joggers were beat up as hell and reeked when I took them off after my Saturday runs. But soon it was the days that I couldn’t find anything that looked different that began to worry me most. Had I always thought so much about the bodies of the men around me? Did people always talk so fast? But as life slipped back into routine. Soon I began to question myself. Why had I worried so much about any changes? Things never actually seemed out of place, and I worked out hard to get these gains. I had been going to the gym for years and had spent years perfecting my splits. After about two months, I stopped worrying at all. Until finally, one day I woke up and looked myself in the mirror, I saw the same man who greeted me for years.

I was a sweaty gym rat. Always had been. Always would be. I took a deep huff of my own funk, and rubbed my muscles. But everything fell into place, something felt missing. I shouldn’t have to keep this godly body and musk to myself. For the first time in a while, I hopped onto the apps and started scanning through. God, all these old matches were terrible. Why did I used to have such a thing for those muscled-up college boys? They couldn’t grow a beard if their lives depended on it. Besides, I think I wanted someone a little more…submissive. Scrolling through, my eyes caught on this young 20-something twink. Something about him reminded me of someone…someone I used to know. His lithe body, tight curls, and skimpy clothes told me he was a bottom before I clicked on his profile. A few messages back and forth, and he was on his way.

He walked in the door and it was all I could do to contain myself. Something deep within me wanted my seed deep in his ass. I needed him to worship me. I wanted him to become just like me. I had no patience as my body acted on instinct. I stripped my shirt and calmly approached, placing my hand against the wall behind him. As my masculinity and musk washed over the twink, I watched as his eyes fluttered a bit and knew his mind was submitting.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” I asked plainly.

“Ye-yes, sir.”

I grinned as I understood fully now just what had happened to me, and the power I held. But watching this twink practically trembling in front of me, maybe I was even better than my captor had been.

I gave him a quick kiss as I lead him to my bedroom. I couldn’t wait to make another man in my image.

[starcrossedxwriter]

Double Trouble (Aaron Pierre x Black Reader x MBJ)

Warnings! NSFW, HEAVY BDSM, HEAVY Daddy kink, threesome (MFM), Everything is consensual! Degredation kink, Praise kink, Bratty reader, Dom! Aaron, Dom!MBJ

A/N: went hella overboard with this one! The plot is pure filth.

***

��Baby?” 

Your soft calls were barely loud enough to be heard over your boyfriend’s latest afrobeats obsession, which blasted through your shared home’s sound system. You lazily kicked off your red bottoms, a guttural sigh of relief escaping you as your exhausted feet relaxed out of the painful position it required to sport such beautiful but impractical shoes all day.

On your way to hunt down the love of your life, you stopped by your study, not even bothering to turn on the light as you discarded your Chloe work tote in your chair and closed the door behind you. 

After closing the biggest case of your career, you would not need to see the interior of either of your offices for a week and that almost brought tears of joy to your eyes. You and Aaron did not even have the energy to plan a trip. Having just wrapped a project two weeks prior, you both were overjoyed to spend a week at home wrapped up in each other.

You rolled your shoulders. Prayerfully, your boyfriend would take pity on you and give you a massage to ease the knots that took up residence in your back. You lazily made your way to the kitchen, knowing where you’d find the man you loved - but currently did not like. 

His back was to the arched entryway as you snuck in behind him, stealing a grape from his masterful charcuterie board that sat nearby. 

Despite your righteous annoyance at him, you never missed an opportunity to simply admire Aaron in his element. Like most actors, he suffered from the curse of always having to be “on.” But in the sanctuary of your home, he could just be Aaron, your gentle, loving, goofy, carefree boyfriend. 

And it certainly helped that he looked positively delicious today, setting a stupid table for a stupid dinner you didn’t want to host. He did every day but something was about him today in particular just made you want to sink to your knees and worship him with your tongue. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction today. You were pissed off. 

And that lust simply soured into red hot annoyance at the surprise guest your too-kind boyfriend invited to dinner. And while you never usually complained about company,  after months of endless days and sleepless and sexless nights, your vision of a relaxing evening was not entertaining a third wheel. 

It was a tall glass of wine, an amazing meal. And… then having your daddy twist you into a literal human pretzel and fuck the stress out of your body. 

But he hated you, clearly.

A sentiment you articulated (along with others) in a snarky text hours earlier. But Aaron, forever unbothered by your theatrics, merely responded that you should trust your daddy because… 

Daddy knows best. 

And despite the strong independent lawyer inside you who demanded control and to be right (and she usually was), you knew he was right about this one thing. Aaron could always see exactly what you needed. 

And despite your attitude earlier, you still spied his traditional gift for you after winning a big case neatly displayed on the white marble counter: your favorite cake from a bakery nearby and a bouquet of tulips. The varying vibrant shades of pink made something in your soul smile. He knew you too well.

Your silent studying did not go unnoticed for long, Aaron turning around not even startled to find you there. His expressive eyes lit up at the sight of your half grin, which you tried to suppress because you were supposed to be angry at him, and the hand on your hip as you leaned into the counter. 

He was in front of you before you could blink, his strong arm wrapping around your waist to pull you into his embrace. His muscles were threatening to destroy the fabric of his crisp button down, many of his clothes ill equipped to handle the additional muscles he gained for his latest project. 

“Hey princess.” 

Forever a brat and annoyed at the implosion of your plans for the night, you jerked your head to the side as he kissed you, forcing his lips to catch your cheek instead. 

Aaron merely let out a low chuckle, knowing that your bark was far worse than your bite. 

When it came to Aaron, you were about as strong as a lawn chair. You’d fold without resistance. Every. Single. Time. You always thought you were God’s strongest soldier… until you met Aaron. Kryptonite indeed. 

“Still mad at me?” 

“Yes,” you folded your arms as best you could against your chest, scoffing. “Between you playin’ the british assassin all around LA and me trying to negotiate with that asshole partner, we’ve had zero time together and no time to relax. And our first real free night in months without briefs and lines to run, you wanna play captain save a nigga with your friend? And then you spring it on me on some last minute shit. Those lips aren’t gonna get you outta this one, A.” 

“I know, I know, Y/N. And I’m sorry for messing up your plans for the night. I know how excited you are to finally have a break. But I’m trying to surprise you so please just trust me. If I know you like I think I do, you’re gonna like it.” 

“Well I think we’re about to make history then.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The first time you get a surprise wrong. Honestly it’s probably a good thing? You’ve always been a bit too perfect to be real,” you added, causing him to grin. “But the only thing I would like right now is for you to fuck me into oblivion. So unless this dinner guest can help with that, I doubt I’ll like it. But what’s done is done. Now let me go so I can get ready.” 

A stare down. Another moment where you’d inevitably crumbled. Because only Jesus himself was strong enough to stare in those eyes and not give this man everything you had. 

However, to your surprise, he looked away from you first, nodding and letting his arm fall so you could head upstairs. 

You started to walk out of the kitchen, prepared to sulk the last of your frustrations away before putting on the smile of a gracious host when you heard him call after you. 

“What if they can?”

“What if they can what?” you glanced behind you. 

“Help me fuck you into oblivion.” 

You lurched forward, his words stopping you dead in your tracks. 

No… he couldn’t mean… The tiniest thrill of excitement jolted across your brain like a shooting star. But you steadied yourself. He couldn’t possibly mean what you were thinking. So you played it off. 

“Ha. ha. Ha. Very funny, A.” 

“You hear me laughin’?” 

You slowly turned around to find him behind you, his eyes brimmed with pure lust. But nothing in his face signaled he was joking about a single thing. 

“Remember all those fantasies you told me about, princess?” 

It would take lifetimes for you to forget. You had the most Earth-shattering orgasm of your life telling Aaron every filthy fantasy you had while he fucked you on your apartment balcony. You prayed they were long forgotten by breakfast the next morning, but he remembered every single one. And ever since, he made it his mission to help you fulfill them. 

“Wait… you’re ser- you’re serious? You want to-” 

It was most certainly a fantasy but the practicalities of it seemed unrealistic. You never seriously considered that Aaron would ever try to arrange it.

He merely smirked and pressed his lips to the top of your nose. His voice was low, hypnotic and mesmerizing. 

“Got a few treats upstairs for you. Go get ready.” 

“Wait… we aren’t gonna talk about this?? You aren't gonna give me details?” 

“Nah. You’re gonna be a good girl for me tonight right, baby? I’d hate to punish you in front of company, princess.” 

But EYE wouldn't hate that. A voice echoed in your brain, the thought of a spanking making you want to disobey just for the hell of it.

“Of course you’d like the sound of that,” he teased you before his eyes softened a bit. You could tell he saw it. That kernel of hesitation at the whole affair, that side of you that had to be in the driver’s seat wanting to talk and litigate every risk before you leaned into the pleasure of it.

“Hey, Y/N… baby. This is just going to be a fun night. And the moment it’s no longer fun for you, we stop. Just like that. Just say the word. If you aren’t feelin' it and him, we end it and it's still just a fun night with a friend. Understand?” 

You nodded before correcting yourself so he didn’t have to. “Yes, I understand. Your surprise might’ve won out again… maybe you really are perfect.”

He shrugged. “That’s what I’ve been tryin' to tell you. Just gotta trust me. Now go get ready. Only wear what I laid out for you.” 

Every step to your master suite pumped up your adrenaline. And made you fall deeper in love with your boyfriend. And his ability to fulfill your needs and desires and center your pleasure. He knew your limits, your boundaries, your needs and never wavered. 

A black cocktail dress waited for you with strappy gold heels. Along with your gold choker, with “good girl” engraved on its gold charm and your gold bullet.

Your skin felt electrified, a buzz radiating from every cell as you readied yourself. You weren’t surprised at the slick already pooling at the crest of your thick thighs when you slid your thong to the side and eased the bullet into you. You hissed at the cool silicone against your heat but you persisted. It was uncomfortable for a moment but as you continued dressing, you long forgot its presence. You knew its companion, a small gold remote, was with your master. Exactly where it should be.

You examined yourself in the mirror, hands running over your soft curves as you studied yourself. You had to admit that Aaron picked well. The dress accentuated his favorite parts of your body, hugging your hourglass shape so your ass and thighs were on display. The cutouts and mirroring each side of your ribs and plunging neckline would give him easy access to your boobs, which were begging to be freed from the confines of the tight bodice. 

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous baby.” 

“Thank you. You picked well.” 

“Final touch?” he picked up your choker, which waited for him on the bed. He always had the privilege of putting it on you. Because it signified the official start of your game. When the choker was on, your pleasure, your body was his to command, his to give and his to take away. Sweet surrender of control to the person you trusted most in this world. 

He towered over you as he stood behind you and placed the piece on your neck.  

“We’re gonna have dinner, dessert and then if you’re comfortable with continuing the night, just ask him to stay for a drink. Otherwise, the night will end. Understand?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Good girl.” His hands traced the hourglass shape of your curves, his hands stilling only once along the near-indistinguishable lines of your thong. However, as he opened his mouth to speak, the shrill chime of their doorbell interrupted him. He sighed, turning you around in his arms. “Later. Ready to have some fun?” 

“Yes daddy.” 

Even in heels you had to stretch yourself to reach his lips. He took your hand, leading you down the stairs, some of your nerves being replaced by sudden intrigue. 

“You really aren’t gonna tell me who it is??” 

“What would be the fun in that?” With a wink back at her, he jogged the remaining steps and crossed the foyer with the quickness of an athlete and swung their door open. 

“Hey man! Thanks for coming by. Glad we could do this.” 

“Definitely, definitely. Thanks for the invite, man.” 

And that was the second time today you found yourself stopped dead in your tracks. The Michael B. Jordan stepped into your foyer, his charisma and star-powered charm oozing out of his pores as if he naturally produced it. 

Fuck me. He invited your celebrity crush, the main character of far more wet dreams than you’d ever admit out loud. And while Aaron was it for you, if you could ever take advantage of the “celebrity hall pass” concept, Michael Bae Jordan would be at the top of your list.

Well, that’s what he’s here to do. Daddy does indeed know best. 

At first, you had a feeling you’d be taking Aaron’s out. But now? Hell would have to freeze over before you gave up the opportunity of your dreams. Part of you cursed yourself for not guessing it was him to begin with. Aaron had been in a total bromance with the man since they wrapped filming. But now you had more questions. How did this even come up? How do you organize a threesome? Is this just a normal thing to talk about?

Who the fuck cares? You’re about to have the night of your life. 

You pushed them to the back of your mind, filing them away for tomorrow.

“And I don’t think you met my girl yet officially, but this is Y/N." The introduction forced your legs to start to move again, down the stairs and toward him.

“Geesh… they didn’t make lawyers like this when I was comin’ up. Michael,” he introduced himself. He held out his arms for a hug. “Aaron’s told me so much about you.” 

“Good thin-,” You started to toss your boyfriend a teasing grin as you closed the last couple of feet to return Michael’s hug. However, just as you were in arm’s length, the forgotten vibrator nestled inside you came alive. You let out an involuntary cross between a sigh and a moan that couldn’t be hidden. 

Could the ground open and just swallow me? 

Michael’s eyes glistened with amusement, letting you know he was not ignorant to your reality. 

“You good, baby girl?” he asked, with a knowing grin as you tried to avoid squirming in his embrace.

“Y-Yea, yea. Just h-had a chill. I was just gonna say that I hope he’s t-telling you good things,” you stammered, the jolts of pleasure siphoning off fractions of your vocal ability.

“Only good things, I promise. Just that you were the sexiest and best lawyer he’d ever seen. He was right about the first part, I’m sure he’s right about the second too.” 

“Hardly the best.” Your tone and smile were the picture of humility at his praise. You liked the sound of it on his lips, you also didn’t hate the way “baby girl" sounded when he said it too. 

“Y/N is being hella modest. She’s about to be the youngest junior partner in her firm’s history. And the first black woman.” 

“Aye! That’s what’s up! So we’re celebrating tonight?”

You grinned. “Don’t wanna get ahead of ourselves… just office gossip you know. We’ll see in a week.” 

Fuck, he was sexier than you imagined. Somehow tvs and movies simply didn’t do him justice. Like Aaron, he was at his peak physical weight, his muscles thick and lethal. They both stood in front of you looking like Gods, cut from the most perfect stone. 

“I-it’s just so great to meet you. You’re one of my favorite actors.” 

Michael drank you in like you were the finest glass of scotch, savoring every inch of skin exposed, every curve on prominent display. You felt hot underneath his stare, as if he had xray vision to see the promised lands this dress covered. You almost wilted like a flower under his intensity. 

We aren’t gonna make it through dinner, you thought to yourself. Or I can just be dinner. 

It was not your worst thought by far. The vision was quite enticing. Aaron ordering you to strip for them before displaying you on the table so they could feast on you. Your eyes darkened with clouds of lust. You cleared your throat, taking a deep breath, noting the amused glance that passed between the two men. Were all your thoughts broadcasting to them? 

“We… should go into the dining room. Dinner’s basically ready,” you offered as the lamiest attempt to escape the spotlight of them. You held your hand out for his coat, giving both men a perfect view of your ass as you turned to hang it in the closet. 

You didn’t attempt to hide the grin at the quiet but distinguishable wolf whistle from Michael. It felt good to know he liked what he saw. 

And the feeling was most certainly mutual. Michael and Aaron kept you laughing all through dinner as they enthralled you with stories from set. He was engaging and funny and you loved the genuine brotherhood between him and your boyfriend. There was nothing but raw sexual chemistry between you but that was all you needed. Mutual attraction.

The only disappointing aspect of dinner was the utter silence between your legs. Once he turned it off at the start of dinner, Aaron didn’t touch that remote again, much to your chagrin. Two hours and several glasses of wine at the dinner table with two men gently caressing your arms and exposed thighs was a recipe for disaster. And you knew he could tell, see how worked up they had made you, how desperately you wanted more attention. 

By dessert, you stopped retaining their words. They were utter nonsense to you because there were far more important things to consider. Like Michael’s dominating muscles and large hands, wondering how strong his grip will be when he fucks you from behind. Punishingly so, you prayed. 

You swung between wanting to savor the compliments and worship of two men with needing to be filled, a need that almost had you begging them to fuck you right amongst the dinner plates. But you knew Aaron. The night was young and he liked to play with his prize. 

By everyone’s fifth glass of wine, the conversation started to wind down, Michael getting up to head home. 

“Thanks so much for this, man. Appreciate the invite. Good to catch up n shit.”

“Oh you have to leave so soon?” There was a hint of sadness in your voice, coupled with the pleas of your signature puppy eyes. 

“I probably should… Gettin’ late, can’t take up your whole night.” 

You assessed the moment briefly, confirming with every cell in your body and functioning brain cell in your head that you needed this more than the oxygen in the room. 

So instead of wishing this walking wet dream a good night, you said, “You should stay for one more drink. We got this amazing bottle when we went to the South of France for our anniversary. Baby, we should open it and sit outside? It’s so nice out. We’re down to keep the good times going if you are.” 

“You sure?”

“I insist! Besides, between the three of us, I think we can find some ways to entertain ourselves." The implication in your words couldn't be clearer. You were in and you were ready. 

“I’ll grab that bottle from the cellar. Take Michael outside and make him comfortable, princess. Show him a good time while I’m gone.”

And with that, he turned your vibrator back on. He chose the second setting, which was just distracting enough to make the simple tasks of walking, talking and speaking exponentially harder for you. 

“Yes sir.” 

You forced your feet toward the giant sliding glass doors that led to your expansive backyard. You glanced behind you to find Michael jogging up behind you as he slid something into his pocket.

You tried to distract yourself from the pulses against your g-spot, the growing tension in your belly as pleasure started to build ever so slowly, by turning on the soft string lights hanging above your patio and the speakers to play music. 

“Yall got a great view.” 

“It was definitely the selling point of the house,” you smiled, awkwardly standing behind one of the chairs across from the couch.

His stance was wide, powerful and assured as he stared at you. 

“You gonna sit with me?” When you didn’t move, he sighed. “He said you were obedient. But maybe you just need an incentive…” 

Your knees almost gave out beneath you as he increased the setting to five. 

“If you wanna feel better, I think you should sit, baby girl,” he offered, his voice low and comforting. “I don’t bite, promise.”

The menacing glint in his eyes let you know that he most certainly would bite if asked. And you would most certainly ask. 

“S-sorry,” you awkwardly, quickly finding your way to the couch next to him. You started to sit when he beckoned you closer with a mere gesture of his finger. By the time he had you where he wanted you, you were sitting on his lap. 

You leaned into his chest, your eyes falling closed as pleasure shot through you with every pulsing vibration. You bit the inside of your cheek to avoid moaning. 

“You ok, Y/N? Seem a little flustered?” His fingers created flames all across your bare thigh as he subtly pushed up the fabric of your dress. 

There was still something… tamed about how he touched you and caressed you. He came so close to the spots that demanded a firm strong hand, he held back every time. Like right now. Drawing featherlike patterns on your exposed side, toying with the edges of your thong but not shifting them to the side like you craved. 

No, he simply savored the time teasing you, enjoying the soft moans his touch and the bullet caused. 

“I’... I’m… fine, t-thank you,” you whispered back. “Just… o-overwhelmed.” 

“You wanna cum, don’t you?” his husky voice demanded in your ear. At the sound, you couldn't suppress the moan of pleasure that escaped your lips. You rolled your hips, chasing more.

“Y-Yes…” you whimpered. “P-Please…” 

“How’s my girl treating you, Michael?” Aaron’s voice interrupted their moment, his eyes piercing with desire as you writhed and rode another man's thigh. You looked perfect, unrestrained and free. 

“Oh she’s perfect. You got a great girl here, A.”

“I know… she is. But she disobeyed me earlier so before she can cum, we have to punish her. Isn’t that right, baby?” 

“Y-yes sir.” You didn’t even know what you did wrong but you weren’t going to argue or push back on him. Because this was already like entering a promised land of bliss. To hear him speak so openly about your punishment to another man while he masturbated you on his lap? Aaron was right. This was the destressor you really required. 

“Can you tell Michael and daddy what you did wrong, princess?” 

You raked your brain, knowing that “I don’t know” would only increase your punishment. Not that you would have particularly minded. Frequent punishments were simply the norm for a proud and loud brat. 

And then it hit you, such a small and silly infraction that Michael’s fingers were currently playing with. 

“I… w-wore my panties w-when I wasn’t allowed,” you answered. 

“That’s right. And we don’t cover up daddy’s prize, do we?” 

“No… daddy.” 

“You want to be a good girl for Michael and I… don’t you?”  

His voice was hypnotic. Despite the pleasure disobeying him brought, you could not help but want to please him, to be his good girl again. 

“Y-yes, daddy.” 

“And good girls deserve what?” 

“Punishment before pleasure.” 

“That’s right, baby. So tonight, Michael’s gonna have the honor. How many spankings you think our slut deserves?” 

“I’d say 25… 30?” 

“30 feels fair. What do you think, princess?” 

“Wh-whatever daddy wants,” you whimpered. That was the only acceptable response. Besides, you knew Aaron knew your limits and wouldn’t let Michael cross them.  “That's right, baby girl. She can be good when she wants to, just needs remindin’ of her place sometimes,” he mused. And with that, Michael turned off the bullet, a groan of pure frustration escaping your lips.

Punishment before pleasure, you reminded yourself. Why can’t my punishment be sucking their dicks or something?? 

Michael helped you up, your legs feeling slightly weak after they robbed you of your orgasm. They didn’t bother trying to carry you up the stairs, Michael merely directed you to your deep forest green sectional in the living room and leaned you over one of its arms. He slid off his belt and tied your hands behind your back, ensuring they were loose enough to avoid injury but tight enough not to escape without effort. 

You were deliciously helpless. 

“Fuck, that’s a gorgeous sight,” you could hear Michael mutter as the two men merely stared at you, boobs pressed out due to your hands being bound, your ass high in the air from being bent over. “Her ass is perfect, man.”

“It’ll look even better when you’re done. Don’t hold back. She loves that shit and she knows our safe word.” 

You were glad he assured Michael that you would adore the sweet sting of his palm. You encouraged Aaron to put his entire weight into your spankings when you took on the role as his princess. Forever a gentle soul at his core, he did not like the idea of causing you real, significant pain, preferring to lean heavily into other aspects of dominating you. 

It certainly made you fall more in love with him, witnessing his gentleness and concern for your well-being to such a degree. You supposed it was the greenest of flags that it took about 10 long discussions for him to feel comfortable. And even years later, he still checked in throughout to make sure you still enjoyed it. You weren’t a masochist by any means spankings in particular were more than enticing to you. It left you drenched and on the cusp on an orgasm without Aaron doing anything else. 

Even more so right now with your ass presented to the two men like a hard-earned prize. You subconsciously stuck your ass out further in search of something. A touch, a slap… literally anything. Your body was reeling. 

And you did not even care who was behind you to give you what you needed.

“She’s fuckin’ desperate for it.” 

“Yea, she’ll be begging you for it in a minute. I mean I was gone for what? 5 minutes, princess? And I come back and you're humpin' his leg like a filthy whore? And you loved it didn't you? Wanted more? I bet you wanna beg him to tear that ass up right now, don't you?” 

Daddy knows me too well. Because the word please was on the cusp of your lips, begging to tumble over like water on a cliff. 

You moaned as two hands gripped the firm meat of your ass, kneading and caressing you before they found the helm of your dress. You knew exactly whose hands they were, confirming that Aaron was indeed giving Michael the pleasure of administering your punishment. 

His fingers pushed your dress up the rest of the way to expose your ass cheeks, an unmistakable wet spot at the center of your thong. 

“Don’t think she’ll be needing this anymore. Whatchu think?” Michael asked Aaron as his finger hooked the delicate fabric around her hips. 

“Nahhh, definitely not.” 

“FUCK!” You cried out as your thong was unceremoniously ripped clean from your body, the fabric leaving welts on your skin. 

You felt his fingers graze your lips.

“All this for us, kitten?” 

You merely whimpered an affirmative answer as he presented his fingers covered in your juices. He stuck them in your mouth, you sucking your cum clean off his fingers.

"Can't wait to make you cum all over my tongue, kitten. You taste so fuckin' good."

“P-Please…” You thought you’d implode if you continued to suppress your desperation. Your body felt as if you were betraying her. Why weren’t you trying hard enough, begging loud enough to earn the pleasure you were being deprived of. 

“See?” 

“You weren’t lyin’. Tell me what you want, kitten”  

He’s gonna make me say it?? 

The words were caught in your throat, blocked by a mental barrier to admit such a depraved thought out loud. 

“If you wanna cum at all tonight, I suggest you say that shit. Cause we got all night.” 

The lethal warning in his tone forced your thighs together, an electric shock through your body. He was a natural. And the dominance in his voice was all it took to rip the weeds of hesitation right out of your soil. 

“S-spank me… please,” Half words, half sobs filled the quiet air. This was untenable. Could you die from this? It felt like you might die from this. “I n-need it. P-Punish me… please.” 

The first vicious sting of his hand did make a real sob of joy escape, the sound reverberating through the living room. 

You buried your face in the couch cushion for the first few in a foolish attempt to quiet your mounting screams of pain wrapped in the sweet pleasure. His brute strength ensured you felt the ache of every hit. On par with Aaron when your punishments were severe. You were still feeling it days later. 

Your head pulled back, his fist wrapped around your curls.

“Do that again and I add five. Understand?” 

“Y-yes, yes. I’m sorry,” you moan, keeping your eyes forward and head up. 

You felt familiar hands cradle your head, Michael releasing your strains to play with your slick folds in between each blow. 

Aaron’s body came into view as he held your chin, forcing you to stare into his beautiful eyes. Clouded with lust, you still could see every ounce of his love and devotion. 

“You ok, precious?” he whispered. “Got 10 more.” 

“M-More.”

“You’re such a good slut for me, baby. I love you.” His eyes softened a bit. “You want a treat while Michael gives you your punishment? I wouldn’t usually but tonight is all about you, princess.” 

You licked your lips, the sudden sparkle in your eyes answering his question without words. You were impatient at the pace he went to unbutton his pants. 

He knew how much you loved sucking dick. Genuinely loved it. On more than one occasion, you came home after a long day and immediately dropped to your knees to serve him unprompted. Of course, it always ended up leading to him giving you back the same pleasure tenfold. So it was a win all around. 

You licked the beads of precum from his head before enveloping him into your mouth, moaning around him just as Michael rained down the last of your punishment. 

Fire. Your skin felt hot and inflamed with every bite of his palm against your skin. And they sent jolts of lust straight to your clit. 

“You’re taking your punishment so well. You’re not gonna disobey me again, are you?” 

Strings of your spit stayed connected to his dick as he pulled back so you could answer him. 

“Never again, daddy!”  

“That’s my good girl. You took that so well. Didn’t she?” 

You hissed as he gently massaged your hot skin. Fuck, why did his hands feel so good? 

“She did. You think she’s ready, A?” 

“I think she is.” 

You found a secret joy in the way they spoke only to you to dole out orders, but then talked about you to each other like you were merely a piece of furniture.

Aaron scooped you up in his arms, your body immediately nestling into his chest as he carried you to your master suite. He tossed you on the bed like a rag doll as Michael closed the door to your suite. And for a few moments, they simply stood there. Towering over you, intoxicated by the power and anticipation, they didn’t speak or move. They just watched you squirm beneath them. 

“You know I love you right?” Aaron broke character for a single moment. 

“Of course.” 

“Good. Cause it ain’t gon' seem like it for a minute. You know how daddy wants you.” 

Fuck. Yes. 

There was a challenging grin on your face as you removed the last obstacle to their conquest, leaving you bare before them. With great pleasure, you shifted onto your hands and knees and sank into position. Presenting yourself to him. Vulnerable, exposed. To two apex predators. 

And you were ready to be devoured. 

Michael pounced with such swiftness of jaguar indeed, you suddenly finding yourself straddling his hips. His punishing grip around your lower back kept you flush to his chest as his lips claimed yours. 

Frenzied, animalistic, downright sloppy kisses as you two gave into your most base desires. There was no love here, just lust in its most instinctual level. You two fought for dominance in your kisses, you mainly showing him that you were no damsel.

He moved you with ease, like you were a feather, turning you so your head dangled off the edge of the bed.

“I think our kitten needs a bit of attention.” 

His lips kissed a burning trail down your body, veering off course to engulf each of your nipples in his wet mouth, while his hand played with your throbbing clit. 

You whined, feeling his breath against your sex, his grip holding your hips firmly to the bed to stop you from getting any more pleasure than he decided. 

“So eager.” 

He licked up the wetness that spread to your thighs, still avoiding touching you there. He was a menace. The devil really.

You screamed as he wrapped his lips around your bud, every nerve ending in your body zeroed in on him.  

Aaron guided your agape mouth onto his hard member again, your tongue licking him like he was your favorite lollipop. He exchanged the bullet for his fingers, easing a second one inside your pussy. 

Your litany of curse words were indecipherable with Aaron’s mouth ramming down your throat. He did not let you control the pace one bit. Your mouth was merely a means to an end for him. 

You gagged, tears streaming down your face from the sensory overload of having them work in tandem to bring you pain, pleasure, and everything in between.

You arrived at the cliffs of pleasure far faster than you expected, your body ready to fall for the first time all night. Your thighs tightened around Michael’s head as you tried to control it. Foolish it sounded, to stop the fall. But you couldn’t tumble just yet. 

You didn’t stop your task of sucking to ask. Instead, you simply stared up at him with plea-filled round eyes.

“Cum on his tongue, princess. Cum for daddy.” 

You dove off the cliff with earnest as Michael chose that moment to add a fourth finger, finger fucking you with relentless speed.You let your eyes fall close and surrendered to the crashing waves and thrilling currents that pulled you into oblivion. Right where you wanted to be. 

Only Aaron could find the cherry on top to this already perfect sundae as he spilled down your throat. It was typically reserved for her treat as he knew you adored swallowing. And you were grateful he found you deserving. 

Aaron took a step back, you pouting at the loss of his dick in your mouth.

“Don’t worry, princess. Won’t be your last taste for the night.” He leaned down and kissed you deeply, a soft whimper escaping at how familiar his lips felt. Home. “I think you need to thank Michael for punishing you earlier and making you cum. How do good whores say thank you?” 

"On their knees, daddy."

You moved off the bed and onto the carpet, Michael already sliding off his boxers. Your voice hitched as his girthy thick member sprang from his boxers.

He smirked told her he knew what he was wielding and how to use it well. Admittedly, you had only had sex with three men in your life, two of whom were present. But you felt confident in saying these two Gods among lesser men had the most impressive dicks you’d ever seen. 

You’d never live down the humiliation of your near panic attack during you and Aaron’s first time. 

“I don’t think you’ll fit,” you remember muttering before trying to escape to hide in his bathroom, your brain overloaded with the fear that he would somehow break you. 

But like the perfect gentlemen he was, he held you close and calmed you with sweet kisses and talked you through every inch as he sank into you for the first time. He naturally reached regions you thought were anatomically impossible. You often referred to it as his weapon, one that left you utterly immobile too often. 

Michael was similarly blessed and highly favored. Though he lacked a bit of Aaron’s length, his had a girth to it that you knew would cause a stinging stretch. It would be different and you liked the idea of that. As much as your body wanted to skip to that part, you also were feral for a taste of him. 

Aaron sat in the arm chair across the room, the perfect view to watch as Michael slid his dick between your plump lips. He stroked his dick back to life watching you spit and gulp down his dick.

“That’s right. Fuckkkk. Get it sloppy, baby girl. Fuck your throat feels good.” 

Your body glowed at his praise, Aaron grinning to himself. He adored seeing you in this light, gaining a new perspective to how you felt freedom and pleasure. He never wanted to stop learning how to love you better, please you better. 

Inexplicable pride swelled when your eyes connected with him, your dilated pupils lighting up at his smile.

“You ready for me to fuck that pussy, kitten?” Michael demanded, punctuating each word with a deep thrust into the back of your throat. Attempting to respond was a foolish endeavor with him balls deep down your throat. 

He pulled out of your mouth and lifted you up to your feet, immediately moving you into his desired position. He bent you over the edge of the bed, one hand glued to your hip while the other pushed your head into the mattress. He positioned you so you were staring right at Aaron.  

Being watched. New kink unlocked. You were an actress on display and he was your director, in full control. And it was time to watch his masterpiece. 

Your eyes fluttered out of enticing humiliation and bliss as Michael’s head bounced against your pulsing clit. 

“Eyes open, princess. And on me."

And this was a moment that made you question who you truly were. A good girl or a disobedient slut? The devil on your shoulder didn’t need deliberation time. You were a disobedient whore. You wanted to be utterly spent when this night was over. 

But you also knew he knew that, which is why he picked a task he knew you’d fail either way. You could try as hard as you wanted, it would be impossible to maintain eye contact. 

“You ready for Michael to fuck you, princess?” 

“Yesssss! Fuck me… I need it.” It was as critical to your survival as air. 

You immediately failed at your task, your eyes clenching shut as he pushed inside of you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you hissed, begging for the moment when the lightening flash of pain subsided and pleasure took root. 

“Fuckin’ tight ass pussy on you, kitten,” he gave you a few moments to adjust. When your expletives turned into quiet moans, he moved. 

"Won't tell you this shit again, princess. Eyes open and on me or I start spankin’ you when it’s my turn. And you ain’t gon’ like that shit.” 

“Sorryyyy, dadddyyyyy.” 

His hips snapped viciously into you, his dick curving into your g-spot with every thrust. 

Bliss. 

Joy. 

You panted as  he fucked you with relentless precision, he didn’t let a moment go to waste as he fucked you. His grip along your hip was bruising as he pushed and pulled against your body. Never the lazy lover, you met every thrust, using your arms as leverage to throw your fat ass back at him. 

“That’s it! Take this dick, slut! You like how I’m fuckin’ this pussy??” he demanded, a hard smack coming down on your still aching ass when you didn’t answer fast enough. 

There was no way he actually believed you could form coherent thoughts right now. 

“I… love it! D-... don’t stop! Fuck… I’m gonna cum!” Your eyes had not stayed on your master as they should’ve, nor had you even tried that hard. But you deliberately cast them on him to beg for permission. “C-Can I cum daddy?? He feels so gooddddd…” 

“Why the fuck would I let you cum? You disobedient whore? Can’t follow simple fuckin’ instructions. 

Well shit. He was pissed. 

Your face was one of sadness at upsetting your daddy but everything inside was filled to the brim with glee. You weren’t going to be able to walk tomorrow. And then you could look forward to a day of aftercare and pampering from your love. 

“P-please, please. I-I’m sorry!! I tried. I-I can’t…” Michael was not helping your cause as you pleaded your case in front of a less than sympathetic judge. He found some superhuman ability to increase his already punishing pace, jackhammering into your g-spot. “Let me cum, pleasseeeee! I can’t hold it.” 

“She’s clenchin’ on my dick, brah.” 

You were going to cum either way, inevitably, but you were holding strong for those magic words. Moments before you felt yourself starting to break, you finally heard him.

“Cum for me.” 

“She’s creamin’ on this dick. This some good pussy, my man! You one lucky nigga.” He didn’t slow his pace as he fucked you through your second orgasm. "That's right, cum all over this dick, baby."

How were you not spent yet? No, you still wanted so much more. 

You lost track of your orgasms as Michael moved you into his desired positions, fucking you every type of way that suited him. And all the while, Aaron just watched, commanding your eyes to him in the moments leading up to your orgasms, forcing you to hold his gaze across the dark room. 

You thought the Earth had reversed on its axis somehow. 

“I’ll let you decide where you want it, kitten. On you or down your throat.” 

“Cum on my ass!” 

“Whatever baby girl wants.” He pulled out of you and sprayed your back and ass cheeks with his seed. You sighed out of contentment as you laid there, knowing your night was far from over. But you were grateful for the brief reprieve. 

Michael shifted off to the side as Aaron rejoined you, the Brit studying your ass painted in another man’s cum. If there was a way be any harder than he already was, he would be it right now. 

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, princess. I love you so much, you’re such a good girl for me. You ready for daddy, now?” 

You nodded enthusiastically. Michael was amazing but no one fucked you quite like Aaron. Those were the simple facts. 

“Good girl,” he flipped you and pushed your legs up so your knees were essentially up at your ears. 

This was a frankly evil thing to do, to start with this position. It was simplistic but he would pound you so deep, you saw fucking stars. At this rate, you would be tapping out far earlier than you would have hoped. 

“Ahhhh! Yessssss… thank you daddy! Love your dick, daddy!” You screamed as he entered you in one fluid motion, ending deep in your guts. 

“You take me so well, baby. You like how deep I’m fuckin’ this pussy?” 

“Yes, yes! Shit! God I love it! Oh Goddddd, fuck, baby…” 

“Ain’t no God to call out to here, princess. Just your masters.”

You gasped at the sudden all consuming emptiness of him exiting you. You felt his hand catch your ankle, which was still in the air where he left you. He dragged you to the edge of the bed and lifted you to your feet. You almost collapsed on your stiff legs but you quickly realized, he was not intending for you to support your own weight long. 

He hinged you at the waist, your fingertips supporting balancing some of your weight until he reentered you and regained control of your hips. He did all the work, holding all your weight with his strength as he fucked you straight into a sweet abyss. Nothing else mattered. Just the two of you. 

Well… three of you. Speaking of which… as if Aaron could read her mind, he says, “Suck him like the whore I know you are.” 

Using his strength to turn you both so you were eye level with Michael’s dick. He was getting hard, rested and ready for round two with ease. Both men looked as if they could do this all night while you knew you looked like you had been fucked just as good as you felt. 

You surrendered your mouth to Michael, allowing the actor to face fuck you to his heart’s content. And you simply enjoyed every moment of them fucking your holes like men possessed. No breaks, no time for breaths. Nothing. Just unforgiving feral fucking. 

You didn’t bother counting the orgasms they gave you as the two men traded places multiple times, using your mouth and pussy to their heart’s content. They worked up a perfect rhythm that brought you thrilling moment after thrilling moment  

“Don’t run, fuckin’ whore! You been takin’ it all night. Came in here with that fuckin' attitude. Take this dick!” Aaron ordered as you shied away from his forceful thrusts as he fucked you doggy style. 

Your body was being driven past overload as they stimulated every part of you. You could barely concentrate on Michael’s dick in front of your face with how Aaron was fucking you, clearly getting the last word of the evening. 

You thought you knew what overstimulation felt like but you had no fucking idea until today. But you knew the orgasm you were building toward would be your best yet, would be worth every moment of this. 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum!” Michael called out. 

“I’m close too. Daddy’s gonna cum in this sweet pussy, baby. But first, your other punishment. Cum as much as you want.” 

And with that, he and Michael went utterly and completely feral on your body, chasing one goal: their collective simultaneous pleasure. 

Michael grunted as he painted your face in his cum, much of it landing in your open mouth. He collapsed on the bed next to you, your body immediately crumbling forward without him holding you up. He caressed your skin as Aaron mercilessly fucked you, matching every thrust of his hips forward with a harsh slap to your ass. You knew you would have to endure as many as it took for him to cum.

Shit. You really fucked up.

You screamed and squealed, Michael roughly making out with you and sucked and bit your titties as if you needed more. You and Aaron reached the peaks of your mountains at the same time. At the warmth of him filling your pussy, white blanketed in your vision and sent you free falling into a new stratosphere.

Time felt inconceivable when you opened your eyes again. In your mind, no time had passed but instead of being on the bed, you were surrounded by warmth. Warm water lapped over your aching muscles, something hard propping you up from behind. 

“What’s…” you started to say, trying to lift up when a muscular arm snaked around your chest to hold you flush to him. 

“Relax, relax, princess. You’re good. Take a breath. Just blacked on us for a minute.” 

His voice calmed all the uneasy waters of your soul, you were safe and home with him. There was no better place to be in this life or the next. 

“Where’s… our guest?” Your voice cracked from the overuse of your throat. You rubbed your neck instinctively. 

“I’ll make you some tea when we get out,” he kissed your temple. “And he passed out in one of the guest rooms. I may have told him there was a strong possibility you’d be up for another round in an hour or two. Told me to get him when you finish soakin’ so he can give you a massage.” 

And you knew exactly where the yellow brick road of a massage would lead: to the Emerald Fucking City of Round 4.  

Your libido was just as high, if not higher than Aaron’s. More than once, it had been you demanding rounds 4-6 after he already wore you out during 1-3.

“One day you’re gonna get it wrong, you know?” you tease, allowing your head and back to rest with ease onto his chest. His hands massaged your hips and thighs and breasts, all sore from their spanking and biting. “That feels soooo good. You got the magic touch, baby.” 

  You ok, love? We were rough on you.” 

“More than ok. That was the most… insane and fun thing I’ve ever done. Exactly what I needed and wanted. Thank you, Aaron.” 

“Anything for you, princess. Rest for me, love.” 

You allowed your eyes to flutter closed again, dozing in the comfort of your boyfriend’s arms as he continued releasing knots from your muscles. You simply laid there with him, savoring him and the afterglow of being his. 

However, after about 15 minutes, you had rested long enough. This night would end eventually, you wanted to make the most of it with your two daddies. 

“Daddy… I think I’m ready for that massage now,” your eyes glistened with your true intentions, letting Aaron know that you were no close to done. 

He let out a low chuckle of disbelief. “You really are one of a kind, Y/N.” 

“I know,” you winked at him with a playful grin. “Now massage, please.,” you demanded like the spoiled brat you were.

Aaron got out of the bath first, his entire body glistening with water on every perfect panel of muscle and taunt skin. Was it nice being a bead of water sliding down that skin? It might be nice to be a bead of water on his skin. 

He quickly toweled himself off before helping you up, using his arms around you as your legs shook. 

He dried you before laying you back down on the bed, disappearing down the hall while you laid on your stomach and simply waited. 

“Well well well… couldn’t get enough could you, kitten?” 

You heard them before you saw them. 

“No sir.” 

“She’s insatiable. Makes her a good little whore for me, doesn’t it, princess?”

You felt their weight on both sides of the bed. 

“Yes, daddy,” you whined as their fingers started doing the Lord’s work massaging out every knot and kink buried in your limbs. 

You turned your head toward Aaron, reaching up and kissing him softly as a private thank you before laying down again. You closed your eyes and let them work, let them take care of you. 

Whoever said “three’s a crowd” clearly hadn’t met these two.

Tag list: @hxneyclouds @planetblaque @slutsareteacherstoo @theereina @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @apenasumlug4r @motheroffae @blackerthings @kindofaintrovert @thegreatlibraryofalex @melaninpov @hiwasteland @yamst3rdamctrl @miyuhpapayuh @dxddykenn @sageispunk @atribecalledqwest @4pfsukuna @beenathembo @throwmymbackout @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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A/N: Hoped you enjoyed that as much as I did! Thanks for reading!

[webism]

KINKTOBER DAY FIVE: overstimulation with ino takuma.

kinktober masterlist

overstimulating ino to the point of tears is more common an occurrence than you'd thought it would be when you first started dating. you knew he was in tune with his emotions—that he was a sweetheart, but you didn't know how pretty he looked when he cried for you.

whether it's with your hands, your mouth, your pussy, a vibrator, a dildo... you know how to spur him over the edge over and over and over until you've rendered him beyond stupid with lust and longing for more.

you had asked him once, after washing his face for him and kissing the lash lines that had just been pooling, whether the tears were emotional or purely a physical response to being overstimulated. he had replied, albeit sheepishly, that it's a very even split of both.

because there was the physical aspect of being overstimulated:

the laying of himself down to you, subjecting his body to a sexual torture he so often craved. placing his pleasure, and sometimes pain, directly into your hands.

the weeping of his cock, all pretty and leaky and swollen with overuse—the electric jolts that would run from tip to base each time you'd press further, coax another orgasm out of him. the way it would twitch and jump at the slightest of touches anywhere else, how neglected it would feel if you weren't devoted to milking him dry.

the tightening of his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, as he cums over and over again under your ministrations. the sheen of glossy release that covers his belly, the trail of hair that runs down his navel towards the base of his cock. the contraction of his muscles with each time you make contact with his burning skin. how he folds forward in his instinctual attempts to run away from the overwhelming stimulation.

his ass, if you so choose to tend to that too. the way he writhes when you stimulate his prostate, fists clenching and back arching off the bed. how he moans as you fuck him with your fingers, or a toy if he's feeling extra desperate to be filled.

his lips, how they tremble with need. the way he babbles, any eligible words lost in the moans and groans of pure ecstasy. he speaks gibberish, can't get half a word out without breaking into a sob.

his hair, how it sticks to his sweat-soaked forehead. how pretty it looks when you push it out of his face and expose those pretty blown out eyes of his.

and then there's the emotional aspect of being overstimulated:

the loss of self, the melting of his being into the mattress as he slips into total focus on how you make him feel. being so intact with the physical stimulation, being a man who gets his ass beaten for a living, is daunting.

the intimacy it leaves, to let himself be worked over the edge so many times by you. how your body is the only one that could bring him pleasure, and you give it to him full force over and over again. in a display of ownership, perhaps. or care—ino knows he'll always be taken care of by you, maybe to a point of nearly passing out, but never neglected.

the love he feels when you touch him in any regard. there's no difference to the way his heart swells when you hold his hand or when you sit yourself down on his cock. he's in love, heart eyes and all. and exuding every last ounce of his physical stamina to give you as many of his orgasms as he can is, in fact, a display of his love. he empties himself for you, offers his physical and mental wellbeing to you on a platter to lick clean.

the safety of it all. to be so vulnerable with you that he's barely sentient in thought by the time you're done with him, in a world so dangerous? it's an aphrodisiac in itself. there's a real deep sexual intimacy to a lack of danger that ino feels in full force when you're pulling a heinous amount of orgasms from him.

it's his favourite thing, to be laid bare both physically and emotionally. of course he cries—he loves you and he loves the way you can pleasure him so overwhelmingly that it hurts. he cries tears of pain, of love, of joy, and of unbridled lust.

and you kiss them away each and every time.

taglist:

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[httpiastri]

nsfw alphabet – ln4

author's note: this pretty much wrote itself, oh my god. hope you enjoy (and hoping for some good results this weekend!!)

nsfw content below !! minors dni !!!

a – aftercare (what he is like after sex)

after sex, lando craves having you near him. he needs his skin on yours, he needs to kiss you, he needs to hold you. it doesn't matter if he's just fucked you senseless, he still can't live on if he doesn't feel your body pressed up against him.

lando gets soft and mushy after sex, and especially if he's been in a certain type of mood; he just needs to make sure you're alright and that you understand that even if he got a little too into it, he's still your cute and sweet boyfriend. he thanks you for being there, he asks you if you're feeling good, and makes sure he wasn't too rough with you.

another thing about lando after sex is that he loves cockwarming. the first time you tried it was probably just because he was lazy, too tired to pull out, but after then it's so much more. again, it's that craving for your touch and what better way than to completely drown in you all night? he doesn't care if you're both sweaty or sticky or if your combined juices make a mess of the sheets. that's a problem for another day.

b – body part (his favorite body part of his and also his partner's body)

lando likes a lot of his own body parts for different reasons. his tongue because of the way he knows it makes you feel and because he's confident in his skills with it. he likes his hands, the size of them and the way they never fail to make your back arch off the bed (and because of how they look wrapped around your wrists, your legs, your waist, your neck...). he knows his neck makes you go crazy, and he'll think about you leaving a trail of lovebites down it whenever he does his neck exercises at the gym. but honestly, i think he just really likes all of his muscles, partly because of how defined they are and how good they look, but also a lot of it is because of how strong he is; he loves being able to hold your body down in bed, or hold you up in the shower, or throw you over his shoulder and toss you onto the bed.

i genuinely can't figure out if i think he's an ass guy or a boobs guy – i'm pretty sure he's both, and he's obsessed. it doesn't matter if you're petite or curvy or somewhere in between, he's pretty much gawking at you 24/7. if you're turned towards him, he's happy to have a view of your chest. if you've got your back turned against him, his eyes won't be leaving your gorgeous butt. his hands will be on them all the time, doesn't matter if you're out in public or home in your apartment. he needs to feel you, and nothing satisfies his needs as much as having his favorite body parts of his favorite person in his hands.

c – cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

oh he's good with anything. coming inside you, in your mouth, over your chest, doesn't matter. he finds it all so insanely hot. seeing you lick it up? he's dead. seeing you lick your own cum from his fingers after he's fingered you? even more dead.

d – dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of his)

lando loves a good photograph – and that definitely goes for pictures of you. you bet he's got a whole private folder on his phone of just pictures of you on top of his covers, hickeys adorning your skin... ass or breasts on full display... tied up to the bed frame or with one of his hands wrapped around your neck... of course, the two of you have had a serious conversation about it to make sure it's consensual, and he would never ever even think of showing anyone else, he's far too possessive for that. they're purely for his own enjoyment.

the only thing that makes him even more aroused than pictures of you is videos... he's a bit shy to bring it up but he would love to make some kind of softer sex tape one day. but for now, he'll settle for the short clips he has of himself slowly thrusting into you or you riding him.

e – experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he's doing?)

lando is experienced, no doubt. mostly with casual hookups, though, which i think influences his style. he definitely knows what he's doing, he knows every little secret about your body and what every touch will make you feel. he also surprises you with a new trick every once in a while that just blows your mind because how can he still impress you even after all this time? that's just lando.

f – favorite position (this goes without saying)

lando doesn't settle for just one position, he wants you every way all the time. he loves to switch positions mid-way through just to get another angle and another feel of you. plus, the bonus of getting to see different parts of you is great. doggy just to have his hands on your ass, cowgirl to get to see your breasts bounce... he doesn't really have a set favorite, anything that makes you both feel good is perfect for him.

g – goofy (is he more serious in the moment? is he humorous? etc.)

oh he can definitely be goofy with it. lando laughs at pretty much everything and that doesn't just go away in the bedroom. it's not overly frequent, like he doesn't just crack jokes out of nowhere, but he's a smiley dude. he's also very teenage boy-ish, which leads to a lot of laughter and funny situations.

h – hair (how well groomed is he? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

i don't think he cares too much, to be fair. he's tried shaving a couple of times just to see how it looks, but he's much too lazy to keep up with it. as long as you don't mind a lot, he will just let it grow however it wants.

i – intimacy (how is he during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he's intimate, sure, but not overly romantic i think. there are moments or certain occasions where he definitely is, though; he enjoys getting all romantic and fluffy for you every once in a while. but for him, most of the romance comes after it. the aftercare is where he'll show just how sweet and domestic he can be.

j – jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he used to love a good handjob, especially during a race weekend when he didn't have access to any girls and just needed to blow off some steam. but ever since he started getting with you, it's just not the same anymore... he misses your touch, the feeling of sinking into you, getting to hear your whiny breaths as he fucks you. he doesn't properly get off by himself unless he's watching a video of you or looking at a particularly suggestive picture you've sent him.

k – kink (one or more of his kinks)

i think lando definitely has a bulge kink. seeing your stomach move around when he thrusts into you makes him so weak. also, i'm sorry but he has a bit of a pregnancy kink, too. especially after spending days with baby relatives or just seeing kids around. it doesn't come out very often, but don't be surprised when he gets all "you'd look so good with my baby inside you" and "let's make that belly round and beautiful, hm?"...

l – location (favorite places to do the do)

i feel like the location doesn't matter a lot to him. bedroom, kitchen, living room, bathroom, the windowsill that any of his neighbors could look through any day... having someone watch you two doesn't matter to him; he just feels like a generous boy for giving them a treat.

he isn't shy to get it on in public, either. obviously, behind closed doors is a must, but if he gets particularly horny at a friend's party? then the bathroom seems like a good place to spend some time. he isn't shy to play a little with you in public either, his hand on your thigh underneath the table at the club slowly but surely inching up... and giving you a few teasing strokes until you're begging for him to just take you home...

one of his weaknesses is swimming pool sex. as long as there's no one else in the pool, it doesn't matter if there are friends nearby (if it's a pool party, etc.); he just loves the feeling of the water around you and how easy it is to slip into you.

don't know where else to put this than here, but i think it's very important to add that lando does not care at all who else is near when you're around and he's in a mood. pda is his middle name, and his hands will be on you at all times. holding your hand, wrapping an arm around your waist, a hand on your ass...

if you're at a party, lando will be upset if you choose a seat that isn't his lap. having you straddle his thighs or sitting sideways in his lap is his biggest wish, and he feels like the world's luckiest man whenever you give him the pleasure of doing it. he also loves it because it means he can make sure you're not off talking to some creepy dude, and that everyone sees who you belong to. lando is very possessive and this is the perfect way to keep his possessiveness in check.

m – motivation (what turns him on, gets him going)

honestly, it's not hard at all to rile lando up. he can and wants to get with you at all times. but drunk lando = extra horny lando. never is lando as frisky as when he's downed a few drinks (or half a champagne bottle on the podium). his hands will be on you constantly.

whenever you wear anything that shows off your cleavage, he's done. his brain will short circuit.

as i've covered before, and will cover again, lando is possessive, but also quite easily jealous. seeing you with some other dude makes him really easily riled up. it's not that he likes it – he hates the thought of you actually being with another man – but just a little teasing never hurt anyone. he's too confident in himself and he knows that you love him and only him, that even when he sees you flirt with someone else, it doesn't upset him because he understands that it's all just a game.

n – no (something he wouldn't do, turn-offs)

lando doesn't like to share you. he thinks it's cool that you flirt with other men, but if you were to ever cross the line and actually do something with another man, he would be so mad (and not in a good way-). he could possibly be up for a threesome if you really want to, but he needs to be there and he will be watching over the other guy with so much suspicion. he would want to make sure that you're enjoying everything he's doing much more than the other dude, and to be fair it would pretty much eventually turn out to be just regular sex between the two of you with the other man just not being involved.

o – oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he loves both of them. he's a messy giver, hastily licks and just eating you out like a starved man. he loves the taste of you – he swears it's one of his favorite things in the world – and he will just never get sick of it. he can go over and over, a million rounds, until he has you completely ruined underneath him; legs trembling, eyes rolled back, brain empty of thoughts.

your blow jobs, though, are like god's gift to him. he would never force you to give him them, but oh does he think about them about 24/7. unless you're completely oblivious, you'll understand quite quickly how much he enjoys them. and why would you not want to please him and make him as happy as he wants? he gets completely lost in the feeling, his hands tangling in your hair and fingers pulling on it, guiding you up and down... and he just can't hold back from thrusting ever so slightly into it. you're just too good – and you bet he'll praise you for it.

p – pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

i think this can vary a bit, actually. fast and rough sometimes, slow but deep and hard other times. it's not often that he's on the sensual side, though it does happen every once in a while. but you bet he's going to pour all of his energy into it and make it real hot and needy, no matter the pace.

q – quickie (his opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he definitely likes a good old quickie! you've both gotten quite used to them, especially during race weekends when you have a tight schedule. if you're really really tight on time, a quick blowjob does the job, too.

r – risk (is he game to experiment? does he take risks? etc.)

definitely. he loves trying new things to spice things up, and he's not shy to experiment and take a risk that maybe not everyone else would. he would adore having a partner who's as open to experimenting as he is, it would just make him feel so free and non-judged. if you get to see lando in his fully comfortable state, you'll definitely find him suggesting all kinds of things.

s – stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)

lando is obsessed with you, so nothing can tire him out. he can last forever (or, at least so he thinks).

t – toys (does he own toys? does he use them? on a partner or himself?)

as we've talked about already, lando is up for anything. bring up any kind of toys and he's sold. he's also really curious about how you please yourself when he's away, so you bet he will love watching you get off without him helping you out.

u – unfair (how much he likes to tease)

lando is definitely a big tease. pressing pecks all over your body except for where you really need and want him, fingers stroking up and down your sides a little too lightly for your taste; leaning back when you lean in to kiss him, pressing a finger to your lips with a silly grin on his lips; pulling out of you just as you're about to reach your climax, tilting his head and letting out a little "oh? you wanted to come? sorry, baby. you'll have to beg for it"....

this also happens, maybe even more, when you're in public. he doesn't care who's around; he knows you get a little extra tense and that you're easier to work up when you don't want anyone to know what lando is doing to you. his specialty is kneeling down and pretending to tie your shoelace or brush away some dirt from your heels, and when no one is looking, he makes sure to press a short trail of kisses right above your knee and up the inside of your thigh. it makes you react with the same wide eyes and speechlessness every time, and he loves it. almost as much as he loves seeing your friends ask you what's wrong.

v – volume (how loud he is, what sounds he makes, etc.)

lando is not scared of being loud, he's very very vocal during sex. he loves to moan, seeing it as a way to let you know how good he thinks you feel. he's the type to moan and groan even when he's the one doing the work; just watching your juices drip out of you brings a warm sensation to his chest because he's the one who did that. you react like that to him and only him.

he also loves to talk you through it. a lot of guiding, even though you already know what to do, and a lot of praise.

w – wild card (a random headcanon)

one thing lando thinks is the maybe hottest thing you can do is pull on his chains when he's wearing them... just yanking him towards you so that you can press your lips to his, it has him dead in seconds.

he also has a thing for seeing you wear necklaces or chains (esp his chains) because it reminds him of this other type of necklace that he loves seeing around your throat much more...

x – x-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

he's a big boy for sure. thickness is his strongest suit but he's got some good length too.

y – yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

as i've said before, lando is obsessed with you, so he could have sex with you anytime anywhere. there's not going to be a time where he doesn't want to have sex with you.

z – zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterward)

i think it depends. if you've been at it for a while and he's very energetically drained, he'll be quick to fall asleep. but in some other cases, it takes him a long while to mentally calm down from his high and actually relax his mind. he'll be all pumped up.

[hunkpossession0]

I AM A SWIMMER NOW I GUESS

Saw this hot hunk at the beach today, that wetsuit made my boner start growing. Now I’m in his body, and I can’t believe my luck.

It all started this morning when I decided to hit the beach. I was feeling restless, yearning for a change, something exciting to break the monotony of my everyday life. As soon as I arrived, I saw him. Towering over everyone, his broad shoulders and chiseled chest were perfectly defined through the tight, black wetsuit clinging to his muscular frame. His short hair glistened in the sun, and every movement he made was a display of pure, effortless power.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. As he waded into the water, the way his wetsuit accentuated every muscle and curve of his body made my heart race and, to be honest, made my boner start growing. I knew I had to find a way to get closer.

As he emerged from the water streaming off his perfect physique, I felt a burning desire to be him. The intensity of this longing was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I watched him check his watch, noting the impressive times from his swim. This guy was dedicated, and his hard work had clearly paid off.

Fueled by envy and desire, I followed him discreetly as he walked along the beach. He seemed to be in his own world, confident and relaxed. I felt a strange, overwhelming sensation, and before I knew it, I was standing right behind him, feeling a surge of power and an inexplicable connection.

With a sudden burst of energy, I grabbed his shoulder. He turned around, eyes widening in surprise. Before he could react, I focused all my thoughts and desires into one single point, imagining myself as him. The world seemed to shift and blur for a moment.

When my vision cleared, I was looking down at a different perspective. I glanced at my hands—his hands—strong and tanned. I ran my fingers over the wetsuit, feeling the tight material against my skin, my new skin. I had done it. I was in his body.

I walked towards the water, feeling the power in each step. My new muscles rippled under the wetsuit, and I reveled in the sensation of being so strong, so alive. The beach seemed different from this vantage point, people’s eyes on me, admiration, and envy clear in their gazes.

After an hour or so, I took a break, sitting on the beach and marveling at my new form. I noticed a watch on my wrist, the kind swimmers use to track their training times. Curiously, I checked it. His – my – times were impressive. No wonder he had such an incredible physique; this guy was dedicated, and his training was clearly paying off.

I couldn’t help but run my hands over my new body, feeling the hard muscles under the wetsuit. The sensation was intoxicating. Every touch sent shivers of pleasure down my spine. I looked down at the bulge in the wetsuit, now mine, and felt a thrill unlike any other. This body was pure sex appeal, and I could feel the raw, physical power coursing through every inch of me.

But then, a shadow fell over me. I looked up to see the original owner of the body, now in my old, ordinary form, staring down at me with a mixture of anger and confusion.

“What did you do?” he demanded, his voice trembling with rage.

Panic surged through me. I hadn’t thought this far ahead. I had stolen his body, but what was I supposed to do now?

“Look, I…” I began, but he cut me off.

“You think you can just steal my life?” he yelled. “You’re going to regret this!”

Before I could respond, he lunged at me. Despite being in his former, less impressive body, he tackled me to the ground with surprising strength. We wrestled in the sand, but I quickly overpowered him, my new muscles easily subduing him.

People started to gather, watching the commotion. I had to think fast.

“This guy’s crazy,” I shouted to the onlookers. “He attacked me out of nowhere!”

A couple of beachgoers pulled him off me, holding him back as he struggled and shouted. I backed away, still trying to wrap my head around what had just happened.

As they dragged him away, his eyes locked onto mine, a promise of retribution clear in his glare. I knew this wasn’t over, but for now, I had won. I was the hunk in the wetsuit, the center of attention, the one everyone admired.

I had to be careful, though. I had taken his body, but it hadn’t accounted for the consequences. For now, I would enjoy my new life, but I knew I had to find a way to secure it permanently, to make sure I stayed in this perfect body without the risk of losing it.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, I walked back towards the water, feeling the cool waves lap against my feet. I was determined to make the most of this opportunity, no matter what it took.

I had stolen the swimmer’s body, and I wasn’t about to let it go. Every flex, every move in the tight wetsuit was a reminder of what I had gained. I leaned back, a smile spreading across my face as I whispered to myself, "Haha, now you are mine."

[syoddeye]

kinktober - day 25 - borrowed clothes

soap x f!reader | 880 words cw: and they were roommates, references to masturbation, pervy thoughts a/n: if you lived with soap, he would never wear a shirt. and i stand by that. summary: johnny borrows a shirt. banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list

You can’t decide if the universe is cold and uncaring, or extremely bored and too interested in torturing you specifically. Regardless, every day, it fucking tests you.

No. That’s unfair to the neverending, bleak void of space. 

John MacTavish tests you. Every. Day.

Well, he tests you on the days he’s at home in your shared flat. Sure, his direct deposit never fails, and you enjoy peace and quiet when he’s gone, but the man’s insufferable when present.

Cabinet and cupboard doors? Open. Dishware? Half of it’s missing. The couch? He hogs it. He spreads those thick legs, wears tight joggers, and puts those muscular thighs on display. An arm slung over the back. He barely moves when you join him, and there is always some part of him touching you.

It’s sick and twisted that he’s infuriatingly handsome and seemingly clueless about it. It’s devastating that picturing him crawling on top of you is the only way you’re able to get off anymore. Door locked, music on, vibrator on a too-low but quieter setting—eyes shut and ears open, listening to him meander around your flat while you imagine him bursting through the door to dramatically take you. God, you come so hard, hand glued to your mouth.

It doesn't help that he’s perpetually shirtless.

He’s constantly on the move and complaining that he’s warm. It’s hard to not stare when he enters a room. His broad shoulders stretch out wide, muscles firm and thick beneath his skin. Dark hair covers his chest and dusts his arms, always shiny after his morning runs and near-daily push-ups. Rugged and imposing, the kind of body that just makes you want to climb. You want to smash his face between your thighs, yank him by the mohawk, and sit on those stupid, hot shoulders. Drown him until he cries uncle.

But today, you can’t stand it anymore. He's elbow-to-elbow with you, tidying the kitchen, still damp and glistening from the shower and clad only in a pair of sweats.

“Johnny?”

“Mm?”

“Do you…mind,” you stare out of your periphery at the size of his hand compared to the sponge he’s holding. “Putting on a shirt?”

He stops. “Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

The sponge drops onto the counter, and he leans into your personal bubble. “Ye sayin’ a man cannae be comfortable in his own home?”

You grit your teeth and focus so as not to let your gaze drop to the pec right next to you. The scent of soap wafts off of him. You want to lick—

“Well?” 

“Maybe I don’t want to be subjected to a half-naked man every moment of my day.”

A second passes in silence. Then another. The corner of his lip curls, and he raps his knuckles on the counter, chuckling. “You’re a tricky one, hen, but I s’pose I can oblige ye. I dinnae ken if I have anythin’ clean, but…”

“Not my problem.” You hiss through a clenched jaw and return to furiously scrubbing the oven.

He’s gone for a few minutes. Long enough that you clean a section well enough to stare at the vague blob of your embarrassed face. Maybe you ought to put yourself out of your mystery and start looking for a new flatshare. 

This time, when he returns, you keep your eyes forward.

Until he clears his throat. “Like I said, nothin’ of mine’s clean, so I had to make do…”

With an exasperated sigh, you glance over to see what he’s on about and freeze. A glob of cleaner slops onto the ground from where it leaks out of the oven. Yeah, me too, you think distantly.

John’s gone and taken one of your shirts from your things. He went into your room, probably rifled through your wardrobe, and stole a shirt. And not just any shirt, but a ratty, shrunken shirt you’d bought as a joke on a girl’s trip years ago. You hadn’t ditched it for purely sentimental reasons, and now, his nipples stand at attention underneath the worn, whisper-thin fabric. His arms strain the babydoll sleeves. It cuts off above his navel. The top tufts of his happy trail stick out.

The words ‘Female Body Inspector’ stretch across his chest.

Maybe you died, and this is your hell. Or heaven. Hard to tell.

Your mouth dries. “Where–Did you get that from my room?”

“Hope it’s alright. Picked somethin’ I didnae think ye’d miss.”

Rising to your feet, you strip the long rubber gloves off your hands and toss them in the sink. You swallow and run your tongue across your teeth. You slowly close the distance, staring dumbly at the man in front of you. Fuck. Were you really doing this? An old silly shirt’s the catalyst?

He grins, his voice deceptively soft. “You’ve gone quiet again. See somethin’ ye like?”

“Johnny, if you’re amenable to it, I’m going to ride you to the River Styx and back.”

His brows shoot up. His eyes gain a wild glint. “Oh?”

Some responsible part of your brain implores you to see reason and remember how sleeping with your housemates is generally a bad idea. It shuts up when you see him twitch in his sweatpants.

“Mhm. My room in two minutes. Leave the shirt on.”

[naughtyjjk]

just a massage (pt. 1)

characters: nanami x reader warnings: 18+, smut, massage, sexual tension, dirty talk, fingering, masturbation this fic is planned to have 3 parts. if you want to be tagged when i update (and for future posts in general) just leave a comment! read part 2 here

it’s not your first time coming to the massage parlor, but you still feel a little out of place, even if you know how all of this goes.

there’s no one in the room with you, yet. on the bed, you go to lie down on your stomach with only a towel tied around your waist. this is the procedure—you get undressed first, almost completely naked, stripping free of your stresses so that you're ready to fully relax and alleviate any soreness in your body. but you can’t help feeling a little self-conscious every time you start.

what you don't expect is for the masseuse to appear through the doorway completely shirtless, wearing only a pair of tight shorts. nothing is left to the imagination, so you can see everything that he has to offer. it’s hard not to stare. he’s... well, he's hot, your brain supplies unhelpfully.

you take a moment to appreciate the sight of him. the man's blond hair is stylized in a clean look, and he has sharp eyes and an even sharper jawline. his chest is toned, his abs look delicious, and his thighs are thick and strong. it's obvious that he works out regularly. and you didn’t intend to check him out so thoroughly, but your gaze drifts to his arms, the veins that are visible there, and down to his hands.

in a moment, those hands are going to be on you. all over your body. you swallow at the mere thought of it.

before you know it, the man has made his way to the massage bed, standing right next to you. he nods at you in acknowledgement and says nothing else as he grabs all the items he needs from the counter to the side.

you know that his name is nanami kento because it had showed up when you booked the appointment, but it's still a little strange that he doesn't introduce himself whatsoever. he seems to be the quiet type, but from the way he moves, there's confidence, too. he must be skilled at his job.

watching him, you find that you can't look away. it's embarrassing to admit, but you've been fighting to keep your thoughts pure this whole time, and it's quickly becoming a losing battle.

his back is turned to you and you watch his muscles flex as he moves. there are dirty thoughts swimming all through your head; you can't help it, not when there's such an attractive man in front of you on full display. you feel guilty too, because it's not like you came here for anything other than a massage, and nanami is so serious looking that you can tell he holds himself to a high degree of professionality. there's no way he would go after a client. the thought probably never even crosses his mind.

knowing this, you tell yourself to calm down. don't stare at him too much. don't let him realize how you're practically lusting after his body.

he gestures at you and that's when you finally snap out of it. he's telling you to get comfortable on the bed and you do as you’re told, sighing once you're in position. there’s gentle instrumental music playing in the background, a soothing tone that could probably lull you to sleep after a while. right now though, sleeping wouldn’t be possible, given how you’re hyperaware that nanami's full attention has turned to you. 

a second later, without any warning, you feel cool liquid hitting your back and you almost gasp aloud. following that, a pair of warm hands begin to spread it all over your skin. up and down, nanami moves slowly, rubbing across your shoulder blades, along your spine, fingers splayed out. occasionally, they’ll wrap around your ribs, tickling the sides of your breasts.

once the oil is spread out evenly, nanami focuses on your shoulders, kneading into the muscles there. he’s skilled, you can tell that much. somehow, he manages to hit all the right places, working out knots in your muscles that you didn’t even know were there.

“hmm. you have a lot of tension in this area,” nanami murmurs, pressing down. “where else do you usually feel discomfort or pain?”

he asked a question, but all you can think in the moment is, god, his voice. it's low and a bit rough and it does something to you, awakens something in the pit of your stomach.

your eyelids have fluttered shut, melting under his touch. you feel so comfortable here that you almost forget to reply. “mm… a bit lower.”

following your directions, nanami slides down to your lower back, palms dragging against your skin as if to pull all the tension away from your body. he reaches the dip where your hipbones start, rubbing the skin with his thumbs.

“here?” nanami asks, and you hum in confirmation. “let me know if it hurts, but i’m going to go a bit deeper. usually, it’s most effective when you press hard…”

somehow, the pressure is just right that it makes you let out a soft moan, entirely unintentional. embarrassed, you mumble, “s-sorry.”

“don't worry, sweetheart,” nanami reassures you, and that nickname has you melting. he presses at the same place once more. “it's better not to hold back your sounds. letting it out can help make you feel better as well.”

so, even though it still makes you slightly self-conscious, you allow yourself to freely vocalize your appreciation for nanami's work whenever he hits a particularly good spot. after a while, you hardly even notice your own noises, too engrossed in everything nanami is doing that’s making you more and more relaxed… and maybe something else, too.

you don't know if it’s caused by the increased blood flow from nanami warming up your body or what, but you start to notice something stirring inside you. something that you recognize and can only be described as getting turned on. fuck, you curse mentally. this isn’t right. nanami may be insanely attractive, and he's treating you so well, but in the end, he’s only doing his job.

“try not to move so much.” nanami holds you still, bringing your thoughts back to the present. his voice lowers in pitch, just a whisper when he adds, “i know you can be good for me.”

and that—you swallow thickly. you can’t tell if nanami said it on purpose or if you're just interpreting it the wrong way because you're starting to get all hot and bothered now, fighting to keep your growing arousal in check.

but nanami only moves on as normal. he slides both hands down one of your legs, then back up. he does the same for the other leg. again and again, he continues, alternating between the right and left sides. each time, his hands seem to move further inward until he’s fully concentrated on the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

for a brief second, nanami's hands snake under your towel, brushing against your ass. it happens so quickly that he has already retreated before you can even process it. but then it’s there again—a slight pressure on your ass, just grazing it with his fingertips. so light that it could be passed off as an accident. this time, you gasp, feeling tingles spread from the place of contact.

“does it feel good?” nanami's voice is suddenly right beside you, whispering in your ear. the tone is low and sultry—seductive, even. there’s something inherently sexual about those choice of words, the way he says it, the implications behind them.

“ah—y-yeah.” you shudder making a physical effort to keep your breathing even. “feels good.”

satisfied, nanami asks, “want me to keep going?”

and, you think, is this really happening? maybe you were wrong about him. maybe he's not as serious as you thought he'd be, because he clearly knows what he's doing to you. he has to… right?

your heart is racing, and all nanami does is wait patiently for your answer. so, you shift on the bed, spreading your legs apart just the slightest, but it’s an obvious invitation that you know nanami will pick up on. “please.”

without even seeing him, you just know that nanami is smirking.

you moan when he slicks his hands with more oil and begins to run them along your thighs again. heat rushes between your legs and you hadn’t noticed until now, but there’s definitely a wetness there. and it’s not just from the oil—you're dripping, no doubt caused by nanami's sensual motions.

the rational part of you thinks, fuck. this is so inappropriate. you shouldn’t be getting aroused from this, all turned on and riled up in a massage parlor of all places. but the two of you have already gone well past what’s appropriate and there’s no denying that you want more.

“mm… n-nanami,” you try to convey with urgency.

"kento," he corrects you. "call me kento."

shuddering, you moan out, "kento."

nanami's breath hitches at the sound of his name around your lips and it's the first real sign that he's affected by all this, too.

“good girl,” he says, voice low and soothing. the praise sends shivers up your spine. “just relax and focus on my hands.”

it’s not like you can really concentrate on anything else even if you wanted to, especially with the way nanami is being so distracting. your mind is going blank more often than not, but still, you have to ask, “i-is this something you do regularly with your clients?”

“give massages? that’s kind of my job.” nanami chuckles, hands never stopping even once. he’s deliberately missing the point, even though it’s obvious that he’s aware how this is quickly veering away from being a normal session. “now, stop thinking so much and just feel.”

his hands meet in the middle where they rub along your inner thighs, brushing against the sensitive skin, sliding dangerously close to your pussy. moaning, you let himself get lost in the sensations, finally giving in.

“ngh—there,” you mumble. “o-oh… fuck…”

“that’s it, let yourself enjoy it. there’s nothing to be worried about.” nanami's movements have grown more daring, not at all matching his words. “remember, this is just a massage.”

nanami moves higher and higher, nudging the towel until it’s riding up on your hips, exposing your ass fully. he pauses as if to admire the view before warm hands caress your cheeks, rubbing in circular motions. the oil makes everything feel even better, a smooth glide across your skin as anticipation boils inside you.

it’s hard to tell how long this goes on for. nanami seems content just touching you, holding the mounds of your ass in his hands and alternating between gentle scrapes of his fingertips and hard squeezes with his palms.

soon, the rhythm of his movements begins to change, and it takes you a moment to realize that nanami is subtly spreading your pussy apart. you hold your breath as he trails a finger slowly, slowly along the outside of your opening.

“you have a nice pussy,” nanami says appreciatively, almost like he’s just making normal conversation, and you go hot at the compliment. “so wet and tight…”

fuck. you can’t help it; arousal washes through you and you have to bite back a moan as nanami continues working his magic. you're being seduced—every dirty word insinuating something more is calculated, every touch on your body is meant to break you down—and you're hardly even resisting. the sexual tension is palpable in the air. it’s no surprise that you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter.

you swallow, mouth dry. you remind yourself to take slow, steady breaths.

it’s just a massage, you think helplessly as nanami brushes past your pussy again and again and again, merciless in his assault, leaving you trembling on the bed. without fail, your body flinches every time those skilled fingers come in contact with your most sensitive spot. it’s torturously repetitive, and you may know exactly what’s coming, but the effect it has on you is still the same.

just a massage, you think as nanami traces around your opening, applying almost enough pressure to push inside. groaning, you lift your hips subconsciously, trying to get him to go further. nanami only chuckles at how eager you are and removes his hands altogether. it's fucking agonizing.

just a massage, you think. except it’s not. not with the way nanami is playing with your pussy, feeling the wetness there. he brushes a single finger past your clit, igniting every nerve in your body, and you jolt at the sensation. you feel yourself throb with need, so fucking turned on.

“oh—mm, kento…”

“look at how much tension you have here,” nanami says. “you’re all pent up, aren’t you? is that why you’re… looking for some release?”

moaning, you're finding it increasingly harder to concentrate on anything other than the hands that are teasing you. and it is teasing—every action slow and languid like nanami has all the time in the world to take you apart. you can’t help but get impatient, frustrated at the fact that you're both still keeping up the pretense of treating this like a regular appointment.

because what you really want is for nanami to pound you into the bed already, use those skilled hands of his to slip inside you and finger you as deep as he can go. talk dirty to you as the two of you fuck while forcing yourselves to be quiet at the same time in case anyone could hear them from outside the room. god, just imagining it has you getting more wet, your pussy pulsing and begging for more of his contact.

any chance you had of holding back is gone. you're only getting more turned on by the minute, given the suggestive tone of nanami's words and the way he seems to know all of your weak spots, taking full advantage of them. fuck, nanami has made you so horny.

but nanami seems to decide that he’s done playing with your pussy for now. he goes back to rubbing your ass, then shifts to your lower back, higher until he reaches your shoulder blades. and down after that, both palms flat, drawing parallel lines on either side of your spine, over your ass, along your legs.

squirming on the spot, you wait rather impatiently for nanami to touch you where you want it again. but what he does next surprises you—he pulls at the towel and wraps it tightly around your waist, securing it in place as if nothing had happened. then he steps back and clears his throat.

nanami says, simply, “all done.”

"wh-wha—?” your eyes flutter open for the first time since you started. your head is still clouded with arousal as you turn around to try and get a look at nanami.

“your session is over,” he informs you like he didn’t purposely stop as soon as he got you all worked up. “you can get dressed and go now.”

“but i—” you pause, unsure of what to say. you don't want to leave yet. you're beyond aroused, dripping between your legs, aching for more, and you want nanami's hands back on you until you—fuck, until you come.

nanami licks his lips, eyes darkening as he takes in the desperate state you're in. “i know you might still have some… kinks you want to work out, but our time is up for today,” he says, gesturing at the clock on the wall. “please feel free to book another appointment for yourself if you'd like more of my services."

blinking, you slowly push yourself up from the bed, still processing everything. it’s true that you hadn’t exactly expected to get laid when you came for a massage, but nanami was the one who started it, and he got you to this state—so aroused and turned on that you can hardly think properly. he should take responsibility. but as it is, all nanami does is give you space to gather yourself, back turned to you as he busies himself with setting up for the next appointment.

shuffling awkwardly off the bed, you feel like you just went through one of the hottest experiences of your life only to get denied in the end. your pussy isn’t happy with it either, still throbbing between your legs, begging for attention.

"oh, one last thing," nanami says. he steps closer and closer toward you until he has you pinned against the wall, lining up your hips together and grinding into you, just once.

gasping, you throw your head back, feeling exactly how hard nanami has gotten in his pants. the contact of his erection against your aching pussy is delicious, and you let out an utterly wrecked sound, moaning openly at the much-needed friction. “ah—f-fuck—”

mouth right by you ear now, nanami whispers, “i’ll be waiting for you to come back. next time, i'll give your pussy the attention it deserves.”

as nanami steps away, you feel the muscles in your legs giving out on you. you have to hold onto the wall to stand upright. your head is swimming, dizzy with arousal from nanami's parting words, arousal reignited by his actions.

in the changing room, before putting on your clothes, you slip a hand under the towel and don't think twice as you begin to masturbate yourself, far too turned on to wait any longer. your movements are restricted, but you don't untie the towel yet because it feels more taboo this way, like you're committing a forbidden act, and it gets you off more than you'd like to admit.

the setting makes you hyperaware of your surroundings; people are constantly going back and forth in the hallway, and this is a public changeroom. someone could walk in on you at any time. fuck, the whole scenario shouldn’t be this damn hot.

you're already wet and dripping so it doesn't take much to slip a finger inside yourself, pumping it in and out, slow at first. agonizingly slow, like how nanami would do it if he were here. but even that feels so fucking good, to finally give your pussy some stimulation and relief for being pent up for so long.

breaths coming out ragged and uneven, you close your eyes and lets the desire overtake you as you add a second finger. you replay everything that nanami did during their session, the ghost of his touches still lingering on your body. warm hands up and down your back, your legs, your inner thighs… your pussy. oh, the way he deliberately didn’t give you what you wanted but still teased you, teased you, teased you. you have a lot of tension here…

and then you imagine what the two of you would do if you had more time, if you didn’t care about breaking the rules and gave yourselves over to lust completely. the heat of nanami's body flush against yours, his cock rubbing against you, penetrating you, stretching you open as he fucks you, hips moving frantically until you both inevitably come—

the visual proves to be too much and you moan, low and drawn out, free hand moving quickly to cover your mouth so that you muffle the sound of your pleasure. fuck, you want nanami so bad. you want to lie down on the bed again and spread your legs and feel those enticing fingers caress every part of your body until you're begging for his cock to go inside you. hard and rough. filthy.

your hand leaves your mouth as it trails down to circle your clit, shuddering as you play with the swollen nub there. the pace of your thrusts has sped up significantly, trembling as you lean against the wall for support. your hips rock back and forth, both hands moving in tandem as you finger yourself and pleasure your clit, chasing the high of your orgasm.

somewhere out of sight, you hear nanami talking to a stranger, a colleague, another client, maybe. it’s impossible to make out what he’s saying, but just the sound of his voice, low and sultry and so fucking seductive, is enough to send you right to the edge.

“k-kento…” you moan. god, he’s right there, on the other side of the wall. and it’s more than likely that he could hear you if you're too loud, if you lose yourself and fuck, you might as well admit it: you want nanami to hear you. you want nanami to know that you couldn’t even wait to go home because the session had been unbearable for you and you're just that horny. you would give anything to drag him in here and beg him to make you come.

and it’s coming, your release; you're really feeling it now. your pussy is throbbing hard and fuck, fuck, you're close. so dangerously close. moans spill out of your mouth, panting as you thrust into yourself even faster. you can’t take it anymore. you can’t hold on any longer. your hand draws tight circles around your clit, and a jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine, and then your hips are stuttering, head thrown back, mouth falling open as it all rushes through you at once. o-oh, fuck—

you come to the image of nanami fucking you hard in your mind, smooth rolls of his hips as his cock pushes deep into you, again and again. you come all over your hand, your arousal dripping down your leg, onto the floor. the noise that slips past your lips would be embarrassing if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

slowly regaining your breath and returning to your senses, you look down at the mess you've made, a puddle of your wetness beneath you. you clean yourself up as best as you can and quickly get dressed, grabbing all of your belongings and heading to the door.

as soon as you step outside the changing room, you stop in your tracks. because waiting by the entrance is nanami, alone. the other person must have left already. nanami isn’t saying anything, but the expression on his face tells you that he knows exactly what you've done.

swallowing hard, you walk past him, all the way to the main lobby and out the door of the massage parlor. your pussy is still throbbing faintly in your pants, a lingering echo of your orgasm. you think about the towel and the wetness on the floor you left behind in the changing room for nanami to find, proof of your desire and lust. the self-pleasure you indulged in while fantasizing about nanami.

next time, you think with resolve, you won’t be getting off on your own in a locked room. you're going to have the real thing. 

next time… you’ll make sure that nanami won’t be able to resist fucking you.

.

after you’ve left, nanami runs a hand through his hair and lets out a shaky breath, cursing. he doesn’t know what came over him. as part of his job, he sees a lot of naked bodies, but he’s always been able to keep a distance and maintain a sense of professionalism. but you—the minute he first saw you, he couldn’t deny his attraction to your body, and that feeling only grew over time as he got started on your massage.

he loved the feeling of lathering oil all over your body, running his hands over your smooth skin and around your curves like he couldn’t get enough of you. he loved watching as you relaxed under his touch, as you undeniably became more and more turned on when he took his time teasing you.

just thinking about it again has him groaning. he glances down at his shorts, at the obvious tent between his legs. the bulge there is obscene, fabric stretched to its limit, and he feels like he could burst at any moment. there’s a wet spot where the tip is and and the fabric shifts as he twitches. he doesn’t remember the last time he had been this painfully hard.

and nanami tries to resist, he really does, but he can’t take it anymore. he’s so fucking aroused that he can’t think straight at all. pushing down his pants, he lets out a sigh once his cock is finally free, springing up now that it’s no longer restricted within its confines.

it stands tall between his legs, rigid and rock hard, curving upward. the veins are prominent and he’s leaking uncontrollably, precum pooling at the head and spilling down his shaft in a steady stream. 

standing by the bed where you had been lying not long ago, nanami closes his eyes and thinks of you in his mind. he doesn’t touch himself yet; instead, his hands start on his neck, trailing down to his collarbones and chest, pausing to play with his nipples. the jolt of pleasure there causes his cock to twitch in anticipation. then he goes further, down his stomach to his hips, brushing against the base of his cock... 

his hips thrust forward into the air, into nothing, as he imagines himself climbing on top of you on the bed, pinning your hands so that you can’t escape. he lines up his cock with your pussy and pushes into your entrance slowly, slowly.

here, nanami finally allows a hand to touch himself. he’s waited long enough; he’s about to go crazy with arousal and can’t fucking take it anymore. fingers wrapping around his length, he gives himself a firm squeeze, moaning, feeling his cock throbbing hard in return. 

and then he snaps, the last bit of his self-control withering away. he pumps his cock with purpose, fast, faster, until his hips start moving in time with his hand, bucking forward at every stroke. he’s fucking you, fucking into that tight pussy of yours, watching as you squirm and tremble and moan beneath him.

breathing hard, nanami twists his hand and circles his cockhead. the action makes his hips stutter, a rush of pleasure washing over him. his whole body is burning hot. he’s getting close, working himself right up to the edge, so close to coming now—

his balls feel so heavy and full. he has to use his free hand to hold onto the side of the bed as he feels his knees going weak, stroking steadily, never stopping or slowing down. his cock aches, throbbing in his grasp. one finger swipes over his slit and his mouth falls open, head thrown back as he whines and cries out. 

he thinks about what you’d look like when you come, begging him for your release. p-please, kento, fuck me harder—i need your cock—i-i’m so close, i’m gonna—gonna come—

“f-fuck,” he grunts. and nanami is coming with you, choking out a broken moan as his cock pulses and pulses. with two more strokes, all the tension in his body is released at once, ropes of white splattering in front of him. he comes in spurts, emptying everything he has all over the massage bed, and it’s absolutely filthy. 

he’s still panting by the time he’s done, coming down from the high of his orgasm. looking around, he remembers where he is and feels dirty for jerking himself off at work. quickly, nanami cleans up the evidence, wiping and sanitizing the bed so that it’ll be presentable for future appointments.

looking at the door, he’s grateful that no one walked in on him because he’s not sure whether or not he would’ve been able to stop in the moment. it had felt so good. he had been so fucking horny, all because of you.

he doesn’t regret doing it. he just can’t let it happen again.

.

part 2 here! part 3 coming soon

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian

(comment to be added)

[utahimeow]

home workout | wakatoshi ushijima

summary — wakatoshi works out at home. he looks hot doing it.

pairing — wakatoshi ushijima x reader

warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. smut, blowjob, cum swallowing, pet name ‘my love’

word count — 1.3k

author’s note — please listen to this audio of wakatoshi (and kuroo) breathing heavily for the most effective experience

It’s not your fault your boyfriend is totally irresistible. He’s tempting you on purpose– you’re sure of it.

You’re trying so, so hard to focus on the reality show playing on the TV, but Waktoshi is being terribly obscene. A few feet away, he’s splayed out on a yoga mat, lifting dumbbells over his head.

It’s unintentional, the way he gasps and heaves and, ever so often, groans. It’s unintentional, yet it leaves you squeezing your thighs together and biting down on your tongue because your mind is starting to wander.

If you were a better person, you’d go to any other room in the house and let him work out in peace. But you stay seated, let your eyes creep over to the titan of a man in your living room.

He’s a powerhouse in every aspect. You’d think that maybe you’d be used to it after having him in your life for so long, but your eyes widen and drool pools in your mouth at the sight of him.

Thick, hard thighs. Veined arm muscles, straining. Carved pectorals and abdomen, clenching with every movement. Corded muscle over every inch of his body–a display of pure, unwavering strength. The manifestation of years of work he’s put into the sport he plays for a living now. Wakatoshi’s tan skin gleams with droplets of sweat, too, face flushed down to his chest.

It’s terribly, horribly teasing. It’s precisely what he looks like when he’s above you, rutting his powerful hips into yours relentlessly, face morphed into a mixture of concentration and bliss. It’s what he sounds like when he pounds away at you, brings you to tears from pure bliss.

You want him. You need him. Your mouth is too empty, you decide. So you stand, shuffling over to him with an edge of guilt.

“Can you stop?” you say, standing by his mat.

He pauses, thick eyebrows furrowing. Concern quickly fills his sharp features.

“What have I done, my love?”

“You’re hot. It’s distracting me,” you tell him, crossing your chest.

His shoulders sag when it hits him he hasn’t actually done anything wrong and he chuckles, a deep rumble in his broad chest. “I apologise. Can you forgive me?”

“I will if you let me suck your dick,” you say, already sinking to your knees between his robust thighs. There’s mischief dancing behind the batting of your eyelashes, enticing your sweet boyfriend.

Wakatoshi likes to think he’s focused– it’s what he’s been told all his life, by coaches and teachers alike. His concentration never wavers, his determination ever so stable. Around you, though? He becomes entirely unrelenting.

It’s why he doesn’t stop you as you paw at his jersey shorts, smoothing a hand up his thigh, along his crotch, up to the waistband. It’s why he nods when you peer up at him for permission to pull them down his legs, no matter how simple it would be for him to ask you politely to wait until he finishes the few reps he has left.

His boxers come down and his cock, half-hard, springs upwards in its entirety. Your fingertips barely touch when they wrap around the tanned flesh which jumps when you start stroking up and down gently.

Drool pools in your mouth, your lidded eyes dropping to the sight of your boyfriend’s perfect dick. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you pump up and down his veiny length until he’s rock hard and blushing and pearly rivulets of pre dribble from the slit of his tip.

That’s when you start to drag your tongue along him, from his base all the way to his head, watching attentively as his head falls back and he showcases his glistening Adam’s apple. He’s always so sensitive, falling apart at your slightest touch.

Your thumb teases his slit, smearing pre over his tip as it leaks while your tongue traces the veins that adorn his cock. And then, with a lustful hunger burning deep in your abdomen, your lips wrap around him and swallow.

You hardly give yourself a second to adjust as you take half of him without hesitation, tears welling and throat clenching as you adjust to the girthy intrusion. Wakatoshi hisses as his giant hand flies to your scalp, stopping you before you can push yourself any further.

“Easy, my love,” he says in a strained whisper.

It’s hard to take his advice when you peer up and catch the tensing of his hard muscles, the parting of his lips, and the affection that glimmers in his olive eyes. It urges you on, really.

You pull back with webs of spit connecting your lips to his cock, stomach fluttering as your boyfriend brings his hand to your cheek and strokes it with his thumb. A second later and you’re dipping your head back down to envelop your mouth around him, choosing to bob your head this time.

“Oh, f-” Wakatoshi cuts himself off with a groan, your throat so warm and tight around him that he shivers. He sighs when your free hand moves to grasp at one of his heavy balls, squeezing lightly but it’s just enough to make his cock throb in your mouth.

As you bob, you take him further and further until your nose is pressed to his pelvis and the dark wiry hairs of his happy trail tickle your skin. He squeezes his eyes shut from the jolts of pleasure that travel deep into his core, his brain turning to fog from the bliss of your slippery mouth. His flesh becomes seared, the blush on his cheeks seeping down to his chest.

Your throat clicks and splutters around him–he’s so big, not meant to be taken like this, and yet you do. With wet eyes and a numb mind, you keep him shoved down your mouth as your fingers take turns fondling one of his balls at a time.

Wakatoshi thinks he’s close to passing out. He can hardly remind himself to stave off his orgasm, too busy as he’s rapt by the burning pleasure of your tongue working his cock.

You pull away, heaving for air, but it’s only to mouth at his balls and suckle at them until they’re covered in your slobber. You trail your tongue along the underside of his cock next, watching him gulp– watching him slowly fall apart.

When you swirl your tongue and suck lightly at his tip, Wakatoshi moans. His abdomen tightens, his fingers scratching at your scalp as they tangle into your roots. He’s losing all semblance of composure. You can tell, from the way his thighs tense and ragged breaths fall from his lips.

“I’m- close,” he groans, low, through clenched teeth.

You’re bobbing your head again with determination, the lewd sounds every time you lower your mouth only bringing Wakatoshi to his edge more quickly. With your hand pumping up and down simultaneously, he doesn’t stand a chance.

His cock twitches in your mouth, and with a deep, rumbling groan that shakes his entire body, he releases. His warm load spills down your throat, his muscles bulging as pleasure wracks his huge body. A Roman god succumbing.

As you pull off of him to replenish your lungs, Wakatoshi’s mind is airy. To him, one thing becomes clear, however.

He lunges forward, scooping you up with ease despite having orgasmed just a moment ago.

“Wakatoshi!” you squeal as he tosses you upon the couch. He kisses you, messy, licking into your mouth like he’s trying to taste himself on your tongue. It makes your head spin.

“I’d like to make sure you’ll forgive me,” he says, still breathless and blushing. His hands wander up your t-shirt, fingertips brushing at your skin making you shiver. “Will you let me return the favour, please?”

[pin-k-ink]

nwjwnsjshwuw im thinking abt having a big argument with hoshina and ending in a rough rough smexy love makingg PLS PLS

daredevil // hoshina soshiro

tw ⇢ dub-con, manhandling, threats, mentions of injuries and death, mild objectification, rough sex, hair pulling, biting/marking, cunnilingus, blowjob, asphyxiation, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, power play, degradation/name calling, face-fucking, dacryphilia, dirty-talking, squirting, it’s kinda fluffy halfway through

wc ⇢ 6.9k

a/n: i got emotional halfway through because im not used to writing characters being this mean. i legit cried. i think you can see the moment i switched up T_T

The sharp bark of Soshiro's voice sliced through the ops room like a whip-crack, killing the busy din dead. You felt those clipped syllables punch straight through the chaos and detonate somewhere deep in your gut.

Fingers frozen on the holographic display, you didn't need to turn and verify the sudden tension coiling through the atmosphere. No, you could taste the aura of displeasure rolling off your boyfriend in practically visible waves from here.

"[Y/N]." Soshiro's growl cut through the stifling quiet like a blade, frayed patience and restrained irritation strung so tightly you could practically picture the vein pulsing at his temple. "A word. Now."

You drew in a steadying breath, fighting the tiny reflexive flutter that sparked low in your belly at that display of pure, smoky dominance. Get it together - he's clearly pissed, not putting on a show for your viewing pleasure. Yet.

Squaring your shoulders, you pivoted to face the stormy-eyed glare currently attempting to bore holes straight through your skull. Soshiro filled up the doorway like an imposing sentinel, arms corded with restrained menace, expression thunderous enough to shrivel houseplants at twenty paces. His violet hair stuck up in wild disarray from where he'd no doubt been raking anxious fingers through the tumbled strands.

But it was the scorching intensity blazing in those hooded scarlet eyes that really snared your attention. The crimson irises were near eclipsed into molten rubies framed by a few slivers of hungry violet, all razored focus currently centered on drinking in every subtle micro-expression flickering across your features.

You refused to be cowed so easily, however. Keeping your shoulders rolled back, you arched one brow in studied defiance and allowed your lips to quirk in a subtly smug smirk.

"Oh, hi babe," you greeted with intentional lightness, forcing your tone to remain easy and unbothered as you blinked up at him from beneath your lashes. "Everything okay?"

You allowed a tiny pout to exaggerate your expression into one of affected innocence - the picture-perfect vision of blameless bewilderment. The muscle ticking along Soshiro's jaw was the only warning before he bulldozed straight through your attempted deflection with the subtlety of a wrecking ball through rice paper.

"Cut the innocent act, [Y/N]-chan," he near growled, the unexpected endearment somehow dripping with more menace than sugared intimacy. Soshiro's nostrils flared as he visibly struggled to rein in whatever was quickly fraying his legendary restraint to mere threads. "Ya know damn well why I'm pissed."

Doing your best to smother the tiny thrill that sparked brighter at his thinly veiled anger, you blinked up at Soshiro through your lashes. You made a show of tracing your gaze down the powerful column of his throat, over the broad, heaving expanse of his chest and sleekly-muscled abdomen just to see his jaw tick again before replying.

"Actually, I don't have a clue, Shiro," you drawled, allowing your voice to dip into a lower, slightly breathier register as you emphasized his nickname with just a hint of taunting lilt. "Care to enlighten me?"

The low, subsonic growl that rumbled through Soshiro's frame in response was downright primordial in its blatant aggression. Before you could so much as hitch in another pointed inhalation, he was suddenly looming over you like a tsunami of leashed brute strength and simmering danger.

Powerful hands whipped out to bracket your upper arms, fingers digging into the lean cords of muscle with just enough force to raise a scattering of pinprick tingles across your hyper-aware nerves. You instinctively craned your neck to maintain eye contact, refusing to be cowed by Soshiro overwhelming your personal space so completely.

His chest expanded with a deep inhalation, the steady rise and fall of that broad, hair-roughened expanse practically hypnotic this close. When Soshiro finally spoke, each precisely enunciated word seemed to reverberate straight through your very marrow with tangible menace.

"Don't play dumb, sweetheart," he rumbled in that same tone of deadly, ominous calm somehow more chilling than any shouted epithet could ever be. "Should know better than to try handlin' me with that pretty pouty act by now..."

"Alright, enough with the thinly veiled threats, Soshiro," you snapped, finally allowing your own temper to flare in the face of his brooding menace. "If you've got something to say, then spit it out already."

His eyes flashed with something darker at your blunt challenge, fingers tightening fractionally on your arms. "Ya really wanna go there, baby?" Soshiro practically purred, upper lip curling in a hint of a sneer. "Fine. The off-books recon op your platoon ran yesterday without clearin' it through the proper chains first. Ring any goddamn bells?"

You felt your own jaw tighten as you fought the instinctive urge to look away guiltily. So that was the root of his pissy mood - the intel-gathering mission you'd deemed necessary despite lacking official authorization.

"It was a prime opportunity that required swift action," you countered, struggling to keep your tone even and professional despite the clear fury simmering behind Soshiro's stare. "We got the intel, didn't we? I'd say the results justified—"

"Don't even try justifyin' that bullshit to me," Soshiro snarled, deep timbre pitching even lower and more ominous as his grasp morphed from restraining into something far more purposefully bruising. "Ya went cowboy, leading yer whole squad into an unsanctioned op without backup or oversight!"

Anger sparked bright and hot in your core at having your capabilities and decisions questioned so bluntly, so publicly. Who the hell did Soshiro think he was to dress you down like some disobedient child rather than a respected platoon leader?

"I am more than capable of assessing potential threats to my team, Vice Captain," you bit out, not even trying to mask the distill that saturated his title. You leaned into Soshiro's restraining grip rather than pull away, unwilling to show even an iota of weakness or retreat. "Perhaps if you spent more time actually supporting our efforts rather than lounging around base, you'd see—"

The words cut off in a breathless huff as Soshiro bodily hauled you closer, eliminating what little distance still separated your bristling frames down to mere ionized inches. His free hand whipped up to fist in your hair, wrenching your head back at a sharp angle that robbed your next words of any scathing barb before they could slur free.

"Don't you dare imply I don't have yer back in the field," Soshiro growled, the words seeming to thrum directly into your feverish skin as your gazes locked and held. Pupils blown wide into yawning chasms swallowed up nearly all traces of amethyst, leaving nothing but pools of opalescent darkness consuming his features. "Ya know damn well that's never been the issue, baby."

Something darker and far more insidious than mere confrontation seemed to bleed into his gaze, tempering the naked fury until it scorched like smoldering coals banked and awaiting the right spark to detonate fully. One side of Soshiro's lips peeled back in a hint of an utterly failed attempt at a smile — something feral and cold and utterly devoid of humor.

"No, the real issue here is yer single-minded self-importance and blatant disrespect for the chain of command," he rumbled in a tone of quiet, inescapable certainty. "Yer stubborn refusal to recognize the bigger picture beyond yer own glory-seekin' antics, consequences be damned..."

You opened your mouth on a vehement denial, every fiber of your being thrumming like a livewire at his unflinching accusations. But Soshiro allowed no quarter or deflection, not a single millimeter of mercy. Shifting his weight minutely, he rolled his hips forward to trap yours in an unforgiving vise of solid, unyielding strength.

"I'm done makin' excuses or turning a blind eye every time ya blatantly disregard established protocols just because ya think ya know better or yer pride's been wounded," he growled, words seeming to sear in an unstoppable cadence. "Tonight, we're going to settle this power struggle once and for all, Platoon Leader..."

His free hand fisted tighter in your hair, making you grit your teeth against the stinging pull and tightening your jaw mulishly. Who the hell did he think he was talking to you like some disobedient child?

You bristled at the clear undercurrent of challenge and threat woven through his tone, refusal to back down flaring bright and hot in your veins. "You don't get to dictate anything to me, Vice Captain," you bit out through a tightly clenched jaw, relishing in stabbing him with his own title right back.

"I don't give a fuck about bruised protocol or your oversized ego — we got the intel that could save thousands of civilian lives, and you're pitching a fit over chain of command? You weren’t even here for the past week." You shook your head slowly, allowing your lips to curve into a sneer of derision that you knew would prick at his notoriously thin skin.

"I didn't realize playing by the rules was more important to Hoshina Soshiro than actually accomplishing the mission," you drawled with heavy sarcasm, feeling a flare of vicious satisfaction as his eyes seemed to swell even darker with unbridled fury.

His jawline flexed sharply as he visibly ground his teeth, tendons standing out in harsh definition beneath the stubbled hinge. For a long moment, the air between you seemed to thicken into a smothering fog laced with static and the acidic taste of pure restrained violence.

Then Soshiro began slowly shaking his head in a subtle negation, the tattered threads of his control audibly shredding apart under the strain. When he finally spoke, the words emerged in a gravelly rasp that seemed to bypass your eardrums entirely and reverberate straight into your very bones instead:

"Ya just don't get it, do ya, sweetheart?" He sneered the affectionate nickname with an acidic twist of mockery, the sound of it slicing through your defenses to draw an instinctive flinch.

"This goes so far beyond yer meaningless authority trips or whatever bullshit glory ya think getting some scrap of half-baked intel means in the grand scheme," Soshiro snarled, leaning in until you could taste the earthy, masculine tang of his anger on each raggedly exhaled word.

"What ya clearly fail to comprehend is that yer stubborn selfishness nearly got every last member of your platoon — your people — killed chasin' some suicidal lapse in judgment." His words were measured yet potent, viciously clinical in their precision and impact.

You felt your eyes widen involuntarily at the blunt accusation, mouth opening to spit some scathing retort and defend your proven capabilities as field commander. But Soshiro barreled on in a tone of thunderous judgment, allowing no room for interruption or deflection.

"You're so caught up in yer own goddamn hubris, always convinced you've got the angles figured out, prepared for everythin'..." His laugh was about as far from humorous as could be imagined — a harsh, barking bark of wry disdain that dripped acid. "Did it ever cross that thick skull exactly how I'd feel getting the call about a squad of glassed corpses thanks to some insubordinate asshole's solo glory play?"

His words sliced straight through to your core, searing their bitter truth across every nerve. Still, you couldn't quite bite back the wounded denial that burst free:

"We made it back clean, no casualties! Your concerns are total unfounded bullshit, Soshiro!"

But that only seemed to be the spark that detonated his final, fraying reserves of patience.

Soshiro moved with liquid grace and unanticipated speed, finally releasing his hold only to redirect his hands in blurring arcs that allowed no counter or evasion. One second you were straining against his restraints, mouth open on another heated rejoinder — the next, you'd been twisted and slammed back against the nearest bulkhead with brutal, jarring force.

The air punched free from your lungs in an explosive gust, leaving you gaping in mute shock at the speed of his assault. Soshiro loomed over you now, forearm braced across your chest in an unbreakable bar of corded muscle and virile strength, one thigh shoved between your splayed ones to lock you in a helpless full-body cage.

"Ya fucking insolent, arrogant brat," he hissed through gritted teeth, trembling with the sheer force of his restrained fury. You could feel every rapacious inhale, every shudder vibrating through him as he struggled to restrain the final dregs of control. "I don't give a damn that ya got lucky, sweetheart..."

Soshiro leaned in closer, eliminating the final precious slivers of personal space until his nose nearly brushed your own, until all that filled your addled senses was the overwhelming musk of his anger surrounding you, consuming you utterly.

"I'm gonna ensure yer willful idiocy never jeopardizes what's mine again," he growled in a tone edged with lethal promise, eyes locked with yours in a final duel of wills. "Startin' by reminding ya exactly who calls the shots around here."

The threat hung heavy between you, tension so thick you could practically choke on it. Your hands were balled into fists, nails digging crescents into your palms with how hard you were clenching them. The urge to lash out, to throw one final barbed insult was almost overwhelming, consequences be damned.

So you gave in, any rational thought consumed by the raging wildfire of anger and adrenaline blazing through your veins. "Fuck you," you spat, putting every ounce of venom and derision you could muster behind the two simple words.

That was it - the final straw that severed his taut grip on control. You saw it in the way his pupils blew wide, swallowing up those blazing crimson irises in a yawning void of heated fury. A harsh breath hissed out between his gritted teeth as his body went taut like a bowstring pulled to its maximum tension.

Then with a feral growl that reverberated straight to your bones, Soshiro surged forward and crashed his mouth against yours in a searing, branding kiss. But it wasn't gentle or tender — no, this was all pent-up aggression and unleashed hunger given free rein.

His teeth nipped at your lips with stinging force, drawing a sharp gasp that his questing tongue instantly occupied. You gave as good as you got, hands fisting in the front of his uniform to yank him closer as you bit at his lower lip hard enough to draw copper on your tongue.

Soshiro's growl transformed into something darker, richer, as your wrestling rapidly devolved into a primal give and take of dominance. Whenever he tried to slant his mouth and deepen the frenzied kiss, you'd buck your hips against his solid weight to throw him off-balance again.

His big hands were everywhere—tangling in your hair to angle your head, skimming over your waist and the flare of your hips, squeezing with possessive force. You could barely draw breath between the slick slide of your joined mouths, harsh pants and lewd smacks mingling in the supercharged air.

This was rawer, messier and infinitely more satisfying than any carefully orchestrated seduction could be. No, this was desire stripped down to its most base, primal core — all pretense and propriety discarded like tattered rags in the wake of you both finally giving in.

When you finally wrenched your mouth free with a gasp, Soshiro's eyes were heavy-lidded and glazed with naked hunger. His lips were reddened and spit-slick, hair awry where your hands had fisted through the strands.

"Ya try that stubborn martyr bullshit one more time, sweetheart," he rasped in that low, gravel-rough tone that never failed to make you shiver. "And next time I won't be playin' so nice..."

Those last three words were practically rolled across his tongue with how much dark, molten promise they contained. You felt a fresh spark of fiery arousal flare brighter at the implicit threat, chest heaving as your lips curved in a smirk of defiant invitation.

"Is that so?" you all but purred, dragging your nails down over the slope of his shoulders deliberately. "I'd pay to see you try keeping that in check..."

The only answer was Soshiro's low, rumbling chuckle as he swooped back in to seal your taunting lips in another searing, messy clash of tongues and teeth and relentless, glorious hunger.

Soshiro didn't waste any more time with words. With a low snarl vibrating against your swollen lips, he banded one powerful arm around your waist and simply lifted, hauling you up against his solid weight effortlessly.

You gasped at the sudden movement, legs instinctively winding around his hips as he pinned you against the nearest bulkhead. Soshiro took full advantage, angling his hips to grind against your clothed pussy with delicious friction that had you keening softly into the heated cavern of his mouth.

"Still runnin' that smart mouth, baby?" he rumbled after dragging his lips away, leaving a hot trail of nipping kisses along the thrumming pulse at your throat. "Need to learn to show some fuckin' respect..."

With that, Soshiro spun on his heel and began forcibly carting you down the corridor like a rutting beast claiming its prize. You didn't bother stifling your breathless laughter at his caveman antics, fingers tunneling through his sweat-dampened hair to yank his head back.

"Put me down this instant, you arrogant, over-muscled—"

The rest of your taunt dissolved into a startled squeak as Soshiro abruptly pivoted and slammed you back-first against the nearest surface. The wind rushed from your lungs in an explosive gust, leaving you blinking stupidly as you refocused on his blazing glare mere inches away.

"You were saying, Platoon Leader?" The way Soshiro all but spat out your title was blatantly mocking. His palm pressed insistently against your sternum as he slowly leaned in, each rasping inhalation gusting across your tingling lips. "Pretty sure it was somethin' about respectin' yer superiors..."

You opened your mouth to fire back a scathing retort, but Soshiro's free hand whipped up to fist in your hair, wrenching your head back at a sharp angle as he sealed his lips over your parted ones in a scorching brand of possession. Any words dissolved into desperate, needy whimpers against the molten slide of his tongue claiming every inch as undisputed territory.

When he finally tore away with a rasping groan, you were left trembling and light-headed from the sheer intensity of it all. Soshiro's lips curved in a slow, predatory slash of dark promise as his free hand skimmed down your side to palm over the curve of your hip with shameless appreciation.

"That's better..." he rumbled in that sinful baritone utterly saturated with sin and naked masculine satisfaction. "Think I prefer having that pretty mouth occupied with better uses for now."

His fingers squeezed purposefully against your flesh in emphasis. You couldn't quite stifle the tiny mewl of purely visceral need that slipped free at the subtle dominance play.

Soshiro tsked softly, somehow managing to layer the simple sound with undisguised derision. "So fuckin' needy, aren't ya baby? Don't worry..."

With that, he ducked his head to rasp the words directly against the heated hollow beneath your ear, sending a cascading shudder of expectant tingles across your hyper-aware nerves.

"I'm gonna take such good care of puttin' that greedy little mouth to proper use once we're somewhere more... private."

The heavy pause and emphasis he placed on that final word resonated straight to your pussy in a thrumming promise-slash-threat. You couldn't even formulate a response before Soshiro's mouth was crashing down over yours once more in a searing, breathtaking conflagration.

This time there was no struggle, no battle for dominance beyond your complete, unconditional surrender. You simply clung to Soshiro with a breathy mewl as he backed you through a doorway, devouring every pleased rumble and husky groan passing between your joined mouths with utter desperation. You caught brief glimpses of passing officers gaping at their Vice Captain brazenly manhandling his girlfriend, but the heat searing through your veins made you utterly uncaring of any scandalized looks.

Something solid bumped against the back of your thighs, not that it slowed Soshiro's relentless advance in the slightest. He simply lifted and deposited you on the awaiting surface without ever breaking the heated exchange.

Then his hands were roaming with purposeful possession — carding through your hair to angle your head for deeper plundering, skimming over the swell of your breasts with sublime friction, palming along the flare of your hipbones to hitch you closer to the edge. You gasped when his questing fingers trailed across the taut fabric straining over your nipples, hips bucking instinctively as his fingertips tweaked and rolled the sensitive buds through the clinging material.

You finally managed to wrench your mouth free with a ragged gasp, struggling to draw a steadying breath. But Soshiro seemed to take that as a challenge, immediately dropping his attention to your throat instead. He latched on to the wildly thrumming pulse point at the curve of your shoulder, his fangs piercing your skin with just enough force to leave a perfect ring of marks.

You couldn't stifle the needy whimper that slipped free at the exquisite combination of pleasure-pain. Soshiro's responding growl sent fresh sparks of tingling heat straight to your aching core, making your hips roll instinctively against the rock-hard bulge of his cock straining his pants.

"You have no fucking clue what that stubborn attitude does to me," he groaned, sounding utterly wrecked already. Soshiro's hips surged against yours with a rough, uncontrolled snap. "No goddamn idea how hard I get hearin' ya mouth off, so fuckin' confident and bratty, like no one could ever dare lay a finger on ya..."

He punctuated the words with a sharp nip at the hinge of your jaw, then a teasing tug on the lobe of your ear. You felt the heat of his smile curve against the heated column of your throat, the bastard.

"Ya like being such a spoiled princess, huh?" Soshiro all but purred, his tone edged with that familiar hint of mocking arrogance that never failed to make your pussy clench in anticipation. "Always gettin' what ya want, how ya want it..."

Before you could even begin formulating a retort, Soshiro had wrenched away and was yanking the zipper down on his pants. You felt your mouth go dry at the sight of his thick, straining cock jutting out proudly from the vee of his open uniform, tip glistening with pearlescent beads of precum.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips on instinct, and Soshiro's eyes darkened further at the action. His voice emerged in a husky rasp, the sound so deliciously filthy you felt it like a tangible stroke across your skin.

"Well, not this time. I’m about to make good on all those promises to fuck some respect into ya, sweetheart. So go on - open that smart mouth and suck my cock."

His tone was pure sin, dripping with dark promise and filthy intent. You felt your entire body flush with molten arousal, pussy clenching as he fisted a hand in your hair and tugged firmly, hauling you off the desk to kneel at his feet.

"Soshiro, I swear to god, if you think I'm gonna—"

But the rest of your protests died on a strangled gasp as Soshiro all but slapped the heavy length of his cock against your parted lips. The tang of his salty essence flooded your tastebuds, making your mouth water as he gave a shallow roll of his hips and smeared a streak of precum along your cheek.

"Ya can drop the act now, baby," he bit out, voice low and gravelly with raw desire. Soshiro's crimson eyes were nearly eclipsed by the sheer force of his hunger, a muscle ticking along his clenched jawline. "We both know how much of a cockslut you are - ya don’t gotta pretend like you're not dyin' to have this cock stretchin' yer pretty little throat?"

His words sent another surge of arousal through your veins, a rush of liquid heat pooling in your core and leaking from your pussy to stain your panties. You couldn't deny the way your heart stuttered at the way he was looking down at you, the sheer intensity of his gaze searing straight to your soul.

"So go ahead and admit it," he practically growled, giving your hair a yank and thrusting his hips forward to slide his cockhead across your cheek in a humiliatingly obscene display. "You’re nothing but a selfish brat, always needing something to fill up that smart mouth..."

His other hand fisted tighter in the roots, forcing your head back further until your eyes watered and throat worked reflexively. You couldn't suppress the tiny gasp that slipped free at the rough treatment, making his cock twitch against your parted lips in a silent demand.

"Say it, slut," Soshiro ground out, eyes narrowing in warning as they bored into yours. "Ya can’t fool me. Not after I’ve seen exactly how well that pretty little mouth takes my cock..."

The memory of all the times he'd fucked your mouth, the way he'd ruthlessly pinned you down and pumped his cock deep in your throat until tears streamed down your cheeks and you coughed and gasped for air flashed behind your eyes. Just the recollection of how he'd made you choke on his cum was enough to have your thighs clenching instinctively, pussy growing even slicker with each filthy demand.

"Go on, say it." His tone dropped lower, rougher with a hint of warning. "Ya can either do it now, or I'll fuck that disobedient attitude right out of ya the hard way."

With that, Soshiro hauled you up by his grip on your hair until his cockhead bumped against your lips once more, eyes narrowing. A thrill of mingled arousal and trepidation sparked through your veins, sending a rush of molten need straight to your clenching core.

But still, you forced yourself to lift your chin in stubborn defiance, glaring up at him with all the force of your ire.

"Go to hell," you spat with venomous disdain.

You were barely able to smirk in victory before you felt his fingers wrench your jaw open, the sudden movement sending a spike of pain-edged pleasure down your spine. Then Soshiro was slamming his cock between your lips, the force of it nearly choking you with how sudden and brutal the action was.

"That's what I thought," he muttered, but his tone was far from annoyed. If anything, the gravel-rough rasp was laced with a heavy undercurrent of satisfaction and pure, undisguised hunger.

You blinked back the haze of unshed tears as he shoved deeper, not pausing until the swollen tip was nudging the back of your throat and your nose was pressed against the neatly trimmed hairs at the base. Only then did he finally allow himself a ragged groan of pleasure, the sound nearly a sigh of pure relief.

"Ya know, baby, you look so much better like this," he taunted, rolling his hips to slide his cock a fraction deeper before retreating in a slick glide that had you swallowing back a moan. "When you're finally doing what you're best at - taking my cock and shuttin' that smart mouth up..."

Soshiro punctuated his statement by thrusting in again, not pausing as his fingers twisted cruelly in the roots. He kept his pace slow and shallow at first, clearly savoring the way you were struggling to suck him off and breathe around the thick length filling your throat.

He held you there until your vision began to blur and a whine built in the back of your throat, then finally allowed you to suck in a ragged gasp as he drew back. His cockhead was a deep, glistening purple, slick with spit and precum.

You opened your mouth to snark back, but the words died on a breathy gasp as Soshiro fisted his hand in your hair and yanked your head back sharply. A low, husky chuckle rumbled from his chest as he slowly dragged the swollen head along the seam of your lips, his eyes locked with yours.

"So pretty when you cry," he purred, swiping his cock over your lower lip. You couldn't quite stifle the tiny mewl of desperate arousal the action drew, which only seemed to amuse Soshiro even further.

"I could watch ya suck my cock for hours," he mused, eyes flashing darkly as he dragged his free hand over his cock and smeared the precum pooling at the tip across your lips. "But maybe… I'd rather finish in that greedy little pussy, instead..."

Soshiro didn't bother waiting for your reaction, merely tightened his grip on your hair and hauled you up until your legs buckled and you stumbled onto the desk behind you. He crowded in, pushing your thighs wide apart with his own before his hands slid down to yank your uniform down your hips.

You didn't have a chance to even process the fact that he'd stripped you naked in mere seconds, leaving you clad in nothing but the sweat-dampened tank top you wore beneath the uniform. Your mouth went dry as his hands dropped lower, spreading your pussy apart with calloused fingers before ducking his head and pressing his lips against the soaked folds.

"My girl's so ready for my cock, huh?" he purred, the sound almost drowned out by the obscene slurping noise that sounded as his tongue delved into your dripping cunt. You couldn't hold back the whimper of pleasure that escaped at the sensation, and Soshiro responded with a low chuckle.

"Such a sloppy little cunt," he taunted, nipping at the swollen clit until you keened desperately. "All this slick leaking out of you, baby, and I haven't even put a finger inside."

You flushed hotly at the blatant degradation, unable to bite back the instinctive gasp of embarrassment and pleasure. But Soshiro seemed intent on driving the humiliation home, teeth latching onto your clit and sucking hard until you couldn't help bucking against his mouth, desperate for more.

"Fuck," you groaned, tossing your head back as the tension began winding tighter in your core, threatening to snap at any second. "Soshiro, please, I need—"

He pulled back abruptly, the abrupt loss of friction wrenching a strangled whine from the back of your throat. It took all your willpower to peel your eyes open and meet his gaze, and when you did, you felt your core clench at the blatant heat that burned in his gaze.

"Ya think ya deserve my cock after the stunt you pulled today?" he drawled, one eyebrow quirking upward mockingly. "Ya nearly got every member of your squad killed, and yer still so damn cocky about it all. Think ya deserve anything beyond the tip of my finger?"

Soshiro punctuated the question with a single digit, sliding it through your slick folds and teasing it over your hole until you were panting and rolling your hips, desperate for more. "Luckily for you , though, I'm not here to teach you a lesson, baby. No..."

He trailed off as he slowly slid his finger inside, eyes darkening as he watched the way you arched against the desk with a needy whine. He crooked the digit, teasing against your most sensitive spot until your hips bucked and pussy clenched tight, chasing the release he'd so cruelly denied.

"I'm here to fuck some respect into ya."

Soshiro pulled back just as abruptly, and the frustrated cry that left your lips was downright embarrassing. But then his hands were tearing at his uniform, yanking the shirt open and shrugging the material aside until his gorgeous chest was on full display, rippling with each huffing breath.

You watched in mute awe, feeling your pulse skyrocket and pussy clench around the sudden emptiness as he shoved his pants down to pool around his ankles, kicking the clothing aside. He fisted a hand around his cock and tugged, groaning raggedly at the contact.

"I haven’t felt that tight cunt in weeks," he growled, his free hand landing on the table beside your hip with a thud. "Been jerkin' off every night to the memory of this pussy squeezing my cock, but nothing's gonna compare to the real thing..."

He surged forward and sealed his lips over yours in a brutal kiss, swallowing the breathless cry as he lined the fat head up against your entrance and snapped his hips forward. The stretch was delicious, and you couldn't help moaning into his mouth as he bottomed out.

"That's better," Soshiro groaned, breaking away just far enough to speak against your lips. "So much better than my goddamn fist, fuckin' finally..."

He didn't waste any time, pulling back and thrusting in again in a punishing rhythm that had you seeing stars. There was no time for adjustment, no chance to savor the initial feeling of having him buried to the hilt. Instead, Soshiro set a relentless pace, hips pistoning back and forth in a series of deep, measured thrusts.

He broke away from your mouth, and you gasped for breath as his lips blazed a trail down the column of your throat. Soshiro's hands were everywhere, stroking and squeezing and groping at every inch of your body as he fucked you without abandon.

"You’re droolin' all over my cock, sweetheart," he taunted, teeth scraping at the hinge of your jaw. "Bet ya pulled that stunt just to get my attention, huh?"

His voice was a low growl against your throat, lips curving into a smirk against your skin. "Didn't realize ya were so desperate for me, baby..."

"No," you gasped, trying desperately to cling to some semblance of control, some way to regain the upper hand. "I didn't even know you were coming—"

"That's a fuckin' lie," Soshiro spat, snapping his hips harder. His pace was relentless, the thick girth of his cock filling you perfectly with each punishing stroke. "Ya knew I was due back today, knew I'd have no choice but to deal with yer bratty ass myself, and ya pulled that bullshit on purpose..."

He punctuated his point with a particularly sharp thrust, making your breath hitch. Soshiro didn't pause, didn't let you catch a break. He was fucking you into the desk like an animal, and the worst part was — it was working.

"I'm done letting ya pull this shit," he snarled, teeth biting into the slope of your shoulder. The sharp flare of pain sent a fresh surge of liquid heat pulsing from your core. "I'm done letting ya risk your neck every goddamn mission, not knowing if yer gonna come home or wind up in a fuckin' body bag."

His hand landed on your thigh and shoved it wider, the new angle allowing him to sink impossibly deeper. You couldn't choke back the needy moan at the new sensations, the way the heavy slap of his balls against your ass mingled with the lewd squelching noises of his cock slamming into your soaked pussy.

"You became mine the day ya kissed me back," Soshiro ground out, his words a low growl that made your blood run molten in your veins. "And if ya can't keep yourself in line, sweetheart, I'll make sure yer too busy suckin' my cock to go anywhere near the fuckin' field."

His hand tangled in the roots of your hair, twisting to wrench your head back and bare your throat in a helpless arc. Soshiro's fangs descended, the tips digging into the soft flesh beneath your ear as he growled directly against the shell.

"Gonna knock you up if I have to."

You gasped at the filthy words, but they only served to heighten the building sensations. You felt your pussy fluttering around his cock as his hips slapped against yours, his pace growing more uncoordinated as his own peak drew nearer.

"Maybe then ya'll understand exactly why I want to keep you safe, baby." His words were a rasp against your neck, his lips blazing a trail of molten heat against your skin. "Why I can't stand the thought of losing ya, no matter how damn reckless ya are. You're the most stubborn, arrogant, selfish woman I've ever met..."

His free hand dipped between your bodies, teasing along the taut expanse of your belly until it came to rest on your hip. Then he leaned forward, putting his entire weight behind the next thrust, and you cried out as he hit a spot that had sparks dancing behind your eyelids.

"You're also the best — ngh — goddamn thing that's ever happened to me," he finished with a groan, and you were so shocked by the unexpected confession you didn't even have a chance to reply before he was crashing his lips over yours again, stealing your breath and any coherent thoughts along with it.

The next few thrusts had the tension in your core coiling tighter, tighter, until you were practically thrashing against the desk, pinned in place by the force of his strength and the solid weight of his cock stretching your pussy wide. You were close, so fucking close, but Soshiro didn't seem to be showing any signs of slowing down.

In fact, he only seemed to be fucking you harder, with sharper thrusts that were rapidly pushing you toward the edge. You clung to his shoulders, nails biting into the tanned flesh as you whimpered and writhed and struggled to maintain even the slightest scrap of self-control.

"C'mon, baby," he purred, his mouth trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down the arch of your neck. "I wanna feel that cunt milking my cock, sweetheart... Wanna feel ya gush all over my cock while I'm pumping ya full, just like I promised..."

It was too much, his words and the delicious drag of his cock stroking every sensitive nerve ending inside you. You couldn't bite back the sob that slipped free, couldn't hold out any longer as the coil wound to its breaking point.

"Please," you begged, voice cracking and breaking as the sensations overwhelmed you utterly. "Oh god, Soshiro, please, I'm—"

The rest dissolved into a ragged cry as the tension finally snapped, sending you plummeting over the edge. The orgasm hit you like a wave, flooding through your veins with a rush of searing heat as you shuddered and arched against his chest, spraying his cock with a gush of slick as he fucked you right through the pleasure.

"That’s my girl."

You felt Soshiro's groan reverberate against your lips as he thrust once, twice, three more times. Then his hips slammed forward, pinning you flat against the desk as he bottomed out and came with a hoarse, ragged shout of completion.

His cum spurted against your womb in a rush of hot liquid, filling your pussy so full it leaked out around the straining thickness of his cock. You felt yourself clench and pulse around the sensation, riding the aftershocks of your own peak.

Soshiro finally sagged above you, forehead dropping against your collarbone as he panted for breath. You blinked dazedly, struggling to clear the stars still flashing across your vision.

The two of you remained locked together, unmoving save for the erratic rise and fall of your chests. Gradually, you became aware of Soshiro's fingers carding through your hair, smoothing the sweat-damp strands back from your temple as he pressed a trail of soft, gentle kisses along the slope of your shoulder.

When you finally regained enough energy to lift your head, Soshiro was already waiting, leaning in to press a kiss to your mouth that was achingly tender. It was such a sharp contrast to the way he'd manhandled and fucked you mere minutes ago, and the juxtaposition of it all was almost enough to make you dizzy.

You felt him hook an arm around your shoulder to gently ease you upright, keeping his other arm braced against the desk for balance. The two of you were a complete mess, clothes torn and sweat-soaked, and his cock was still half-hard inside you.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

His tone was low, rough, and so, so tender you felt your heart constrict at the sound. Soshiro's expression was soft, almost vulnerable, and he didn't hesitate to cup your jaw and press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips.

"I mean, besides the obvious." He gave a slight roll of his hips, making you gasp as his cock twitched and pulsed inside your overstimulated pussy. Soshiro chuckled, the sound edged with dark promise.

"I meant what I said earlier," he added, his tone serious as he met your eyes once more. "I don't think I've ever been more scared in my life than when I heard what happened, and that was before I realized what a stupid, selfish little brat I have for a girlfriend."

Your mouth dropped open, and Soshiro immediately seized the opportunity, claiming your lips in a searing kiss. When he finally pulled back, you couldn't stop the small whine that escaped, and his eyes glittered with mischief and pure masculine satisfaction.

"We're gonna be having another conversation about your behavior, though," he continued, his voice dipping lower as his eyes darkened further. "Preferably with a paddle and my belt around your neck. But for now..."

He pulled back, slipping his softening cock from your abused cunt and drawing a whine of disappointment at the loss. Before you could protest, Soshiro was scooping you into his arms and turning to carry you across the room.

"For now," he murmured, pressing his lips to the crown of your head in a soft kiss, "Let's just get ya cleaned up and tucked into bed. And then..."

He glanced down, the look in his eyes making you shiver in anticipation.

"And then I’ll be waking you up in the morning the way I know you love best."

[ivybucky]

lightning in a bottle - logan howlett x reader

mutant!reader nearly harms the team in a moment of panic and feels unable to deal with the aftermath, but logan is there to bring you back in more ways than one

a/n: i have so many ideas besties... currently have a list of 5 fic ideas and this is the first one I was able to flush out. here's some angst with happy ending for ya (no smut)

content: angst with happy ending, lots of electricity(literally), mentions of torture and screaming, mentions of mutant experimentation, implications of shitty birth family, confession of feelings, reader crying, sad reader, angry/sad logan

words: 2329

~~~~~

All you could think about was the lightning. 

You remember walking into the room, where the footage of your torture was displaying blatantly across the TV news cycle, the team sitting there and watching with rapt attention. “Mutant Experimentation Footage Leaked” scrolled across the screen. You remember the static tingling in your fingertips as you recognized what you were watching. Your own cries echoed from the speakers as footage of Stryker’s experimentation on you from a month prior when you had been captured is played to the nation. 

“Turn it off,” you had said quietly, pleadingly. The team’s gaze snaps to your silhouette in the door frame. Their eyes held sorrow, and something else that you did not want to see. 

“Y/N-” Storm had started to speak, but you wouldn’t have it. 

“Turn it off, now,” you’d said, clenched fists at your side as the panic began to swell, small flares of electricity flaring around your knuckles. Memories of the torture, the agony, the hatred came rushing back all at one and your eyes couldn’t leave the screen as it continuously replayed it. 

As the feeling heightening, electricity cracked in the air. Your eyes lit up, a bright purple gleam taking over. There was too much silence in the room, the sounds of your screams playing in a loop like a broken record as the news team played the footage over and over. Finally, someone broke it. “Y/N,” Logan had spoken up, an odd, unfamiliar tone in his voice. Good god, was that pity?

“What?” You had snapped, finally looking away from the footage and making eye contact with the team, with Logan, and you understood it wasn’t pity you heard in his voice, but a form of fear. Your anger slowly dissipated as you took in the state of the room - everyone in that room (who wasn’t bald) had hair floating up into the air, falling under the influence of the clouded electricity that filled the ceiling, just as one is before they get struck by lightning. 

And gods above you had almost struck them. 

Your fists fell lax at your sides, realization of the height of your emotions, the loss of control taking over your features. “I-” you stuttered, unsure how to apologize for the pain you nearly inflicted. “I-I’m sorry.”

For a moment, no one moved a muscle, no one said a word. It wasn’t the first time you had lost control, but it was the first time any of them were in danger because of it. Everyone stood like statues, watching you with bated breath, as if you were one nudge away from electrocuting the masses. You turned and fled the room, quickly striding back to your room to inevitably lock yourself in. It was the only place you felt like you could be and not hurt anyone.

Hours had passed since, but you couldn’t shake the look on their faces, the pure fright they showed, caused by you. Decidedly, that wouldn’t happen again - you wouldn’t allow it, in any capacity. Would they always fear you now? Could you manage to stay surrounded by people you loved, but knew there would always be a limit to how far their love for you went? Could you withstand the constant pins and needles your family would walk on around you, again?

It was that thought that had you hurriedly shuffling through your closet to find the duffle bag you had lugged over your shoulder when you were originally picked up by X-Men. It was crumbled into a wrinkled ball on the top shelf, thought to no longer have any use. 

You paced around the room, picking up the things you knew you couldn’t leave without. The students can go through my clothes, you thought with some sort of sad acceptance. Though, that didn’t keep you from packing some of the staples. The school logo printed on a t-shirt, an old sweatshirt that was singed from a fire fight in your first mission with the rest of the team, a stolen old flannel that smelt like smoke and whiskey-

“Where are you going, sweetheart?” You look up almost startled at Logan standing at the door to your bedroom, now cracked wide open. Logan… You’d nearly forgotten about the worst part - leaving him behind.

He leans against the door frame with a confused expression, arms crossed over his chest. You furrow your brows before turning back to the half-full duffle bag that sat on the foot of your bed. You knew you couldn’t look at him when you spoke again. 

“I’m leaving,” you nearly mutter and you stuff more clothes into the bag. You can feel your eyes getting hot, and try to take a deep breath to calm yourself. 

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” he asks, his own brows furrowing. “Leaving for a mission?”

Your movements paused. You could tell the truth, but the reality was that he would try to stop you. And even if nothing had come out of the tension that hung between the two of you, you knew you would give in. 

“Yeah,” you swallowed as you lied. “Just a quick one, some intel gathering. I’m leaving sometime tomorrow morning.”

There was a brief pause, like Logan was trying to get a read on how truthful you were being. “Maybe I should come with you,” he says. “For backup, just in case.”

You clench your eyes shut - of course, he thought you needed to be accompanied. “I’ll be fine on my own,” your hands slow their movements as you place the last item in the bag, a gray zip up hoodie Logan had given you once. Were you saying that to reassure him, or yourself? You lied through your teeth like it was painful, as if the act of clenching your jaw so hard would break your bones and your will. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

There was another pause, and you were sure he was going to call your bluff, but he just clicked his tongue. “Well alright,” he said gruffly, almost dejectedly. His hand fiddled with the door frame for a moment hesitantly. “You know that if you need-“

“I know,” you interrupted, turning to give him a tight smile. “I know.” He gave a saddened half smile before nodding and walking away. 

The space he once occupied at the door was empty now, but for a moment you stared at as if he was still there, as if he was still trying to comfort you even when he didn’t know how. 

An errant tear slipped from your eye and trailed down your face for a moment before you snapped back into reality, wiping the tear away quickly with the heel of your hand. You aggressively zipped up the bag and slung it over your shoulder, eager to leave before anyone, mainly Charles, got an idea of your plan. 

With the click of the front door, and the clap of a thunderstorm on the dark horizon, you were gone. 

As Logan left your room, he externally winced at his inability to provide comfort - to you of all fucking people - as if the non-action hurt him. The pain on your face seeped into the air and into his adamantium bones, as if it was transferable through the longing gazes and secretly honeyed words. 

He hung his head and he slowly walked further down the hall, a part of him hoping he would hear your door creak open and hear you call out his name. Instead, he was met with the faint sniffles of a teary nose that only his heightened hearing could pick up, a scuffle of fabric being shoved tightly into the duffle that was then harshly zipped shut with a shuddering sigh.

He turned the corner to retreat to his room before he could hear any more, deciding to join the mission the next morning anyways. 

The following morning, Logan made his way to Charles, unexpecting wanting to make his intentions to follow her known to someone. He entered the room, Charles already staring directly at him with a face one could only describe as similar to an omniscient god.

“Logan,” Charles spoke, somewhat resigned. “She doesn’t have a mission.”

Logan paused in his step with a furrowed brow. “What are you talking about? She said she was leaving this morning.”

“I did not give her one,” he confirms. “I have a feeling-”

Logan cut him off before the professor could continue. His jaw was clenched tight as he spoke the words. “She left.”

A tense silence took over the room, Charles watching Logan with a straight, yet dissecting gaze. Logan broke eye contact and looked away momentarily as he felt his heart sink to his stomach for the first time in decades. 

Finally, he looked back to Charles with a determined glare. “Where is she?”

The side of the professor’s mouth twitches up. 

—-

It only took two days for Logan to reach you. Charles was able to track your location easily as soon as he was asked. It took nothing for Logan to take the bike and peel out of the upstate town. Now, he stood in the rain staring at the shitty side-of-the-road motel with a simmering glare. 

His mind floated despondently in the air above him, completely unattached from his body as it stomped its way up the stairs and down the hall to your room. His fist banged on the door loudly, uncaring of its stability under his metal skeleton. His heightened exhaustion and emotions tethered him enough to not let his head fly too far away from him, but the reality was that he hadn’t slept since you left and the only words he spoke were to himself as he practiced what he would say to get you to return.

But then, the door swung open. His mind snapped back to his body as soon as he saw your face, but the pleas he had planned to beg left him just as quick. 

“You lied to me,” he growled, he accused, standing in the open door, his hands resting up on the door frame. The rain continued to pour just past the motel covering, evidence of its duration linger in the form of wet tracks down his leather jacket, the dampness of his hair, the drops that stuck to his face. 

“Logan-”

“You lied to me, Y/N,” he repeated, a new kind of angry heat simmering in his eyes. “You were not leaving for a mission.”

You take another deep breath. “‘M leaving for good,” you utter softly, your hands trembling slightly at the first out loud admission of what you had planned to do. You circled the back in the room, putting the cheap mattress in between you as some sort of barrier. The duffle bag he saw you packing days ago sat mockingly between you both. 

“Come on, what the fuck? ‘Leaving for good’?” He asks incredulously, taking a step forward and letting his arms drop to his sides. “You were going to leave the mansion, just like that?”

You stare at the duffle’s opening, having only reached that motel hours ago, not long enough to unpack the only remaining items you had. “I can’t stay, Logan,” you say softly, not moving to look at him. “No matter how careful I am, no matter how hard I try, I can’t control it, I can’t control me. Even Charles doesn’t know what to do with me, I-I had to leave, it’ll be better for everyone.”

“No,” he says defiantly, moving cautiously closer around the side of the bed. “Not everyone.”

The tears welled in your eyes at his words, unable to stop them from falling and you crossed your arms in front of you protectively, the tear-stained cuffs of the hoodie, his hoodie, pushed up your forearms. “Why are you here, Logan?”

“Why am I- are you stupid?” He scoffed, causing you to flinch at his harshness. “I’m here to bring you back. You’re not leaving the school, you’re not leaving me alone-”

“You don’t want me,” you cried, with tears streaming down your face as you shake your head. He can feel his heart break at the side of your distress. “None of you do. I nearly struck all of you the other day, just because I got emotional. I almost hurt you, and that’s the last thing you need, Logan.”

Logan quickly moves closer to stand in front of you and cups your cheeks, bringing your wet eyes to his. “Don’t you get it,” he says with a strained, rough voice. His thumbs sweep gently under your eyes to brush away the tears. “You are the only thing I need. Fuck everything and everyone else.”

Your hands come up to hold onto his wrist, keeping his hands exactly where they are on your face. “Logan-” you stutter as you search his eyes almost hopefully. “What are you saying?”

There’s a brief silence in between your soft sniffles and the sound of the rain on the other side of the motel door. When Logan speaks again, it is deliberate, and it’s what he wanted to say all along. “I’m saying I am nothing without you, sweetheart,” he urges, his thumb pulling your bottom lip from your teeth. “I was nothing before you, and I know that if you leave now, I’ll be nothing all over again. Not a single person in that school wants you to leave, me especially.”

You squeeze your eyes shut in time with the hopeful clenching of your heart, forcing tears out as you do so. You rest your forehead against Logan’s as he continues. “Please,” he nearly whispers, his nose bumping against yours. “Come home with me and turn nothing into something again.”

You nodded against him and spoke a wet “okay” before pressing your lips, finally, against his. And, just as you had predicted you would several nights ago, you gave in. 

_____

a/n: quickly posting this bc if i keep staring at it i'll never post it pls tell me how i did :D logan smut comin soon, pls like, comment, reblog

[machveil]

Can't believe you're gonna make me simp for this man while I'm at work-

LET ME KISS HIS SCARS BETTER REPEATEDLY DAILY ON THE BED ON THE DESK ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER WHERE NO GOD CAN SEE OR JUDGE I WILL WORSHIP THE MAN WITH WAR WOUNDS THE WAY HE OUGHT TO BE -🐸

Kiss it Better

sometimes a kiss makes things feel better— or a few dozen! headcanons for smoochin’ their scars: Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, König, Sebastian Krueger

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Simon Riley has been on the receiving end of a lot, he’s used to it - mishaps during training, wounds during deployments, not to mention the occasional bumps and bruises from daily life. what he wasn’t used to receiving was the feeling of your lips on the rough, patchy parts of his skin

”What’chya doin’, love?”, voice warm as he watches you press kisses to his scarred chest. he’d told you about some of them, grazes and nicks, close calls with blades, “Nothing, Si.”. a content hum resonates in his chest, a hand resting on the back of your head as you continue - kissing from scar to scar

he was indifferent towards the scars - a part of his job, but when you littered kisses over them? the warmth that bloomed in his chest was welcomed. lounging in bed with you, the tv idly playing in the background as he combs his fingers through your hair, the domestic moment is pure bliss for Simon

pressing his own kiss to your hairline, he cracks a smile when you chuckle, nipping at his collarbone. “Careful, you’re supposed t’be kissin’ ‘em, lovie.”, he says, tugging your hair a little.

“Could leave a couple new marks for you.”, you mumble, smiling against his skin when he gently scratches your scalp

John “Soap” MacTavish:

for every kiss you place on his scars he’s doubling them and giving them back. Johnny is a sucker for when you kiss his scars - getting them can be horrifying depending on what happened, but when you’re pecking his arms? peppering kisses over his scarred muscles? he’s thinking about banging his knee into your coffee table ‘accidentally’ so you’ll kiss it better

“Wait, go back— missed a spot, mo ghaol.”, Johnny happily says, hand cupping your chin as he smiles at you, guiding you to press a kiss to his shoulder. the scar is barely visible - probably a nick from training or bumping into something, but he’s more than happy to feel your lips against the small mark, “Ya started this, gotta kiss ‘em all.”, he insists

he’s living for the attention, thumb pressed to your cheek as he gently guides you to each scar - some completely visible, others you have to squint at. and he’s gushing, cooing sweetly at you about how nice your lips feel against his skin, how you should do this more often

and he when you’re done? he’s pressing you down against the couch, a hand holding your wrists above your head as he kisses you silly - he’s laughing, dopey smile on his lips as he sloppily pecks you. “Hold still, mo chridhe! You’re squirmin’ too much—“, he chuckles, accent thick between quick kisses

“John! John— let go! It tickles!”, you complain, his stubble rubbing against your neck as he playfully bites at you

König:

it took a while for König to reveal his marred skin to you - scars, freckles, and moles all hidden beneath his uniform and civvies. despite his confidence and cocky nature as a Colonel, behind closed doors König worries. ever since his childhood people had pointed and mocked him, and back then he wasn’t charging into the field receiving wounds

but he trusts you, and when his sniper hood is awkwardly tugged off by large, calloused hands? his icy blue gaze meets yours, his face on display - a small scar over against his eyebrow, a cut across the corner of his lips, a scattering of roughed up skin against his cheek. he doesn’t explain what happened, how he got his scars and wounds, but you don’t pry. instead, when your first instinct is to press a kiss to his long since healed cheek?

he freezes, breath hitching - König was expecting you to be appalled, to leave his apartment with knit eyebrows and disappointment in your eyes. he wasn’t expecting such gentle, careful adoration. and when you move to kiss his crooked nose, the bridge slanted slightly, he feels his chest tighten with relief, heart hammering. “Oh, liebling—“, shaky hands moving to hover above your hips, he swallows, “You don’t have to.”, he murmurs

his stomach flips when you kiss the corner of his lips, right where the nick against them is. he lets his eyes flutter shut when you tell him you want to, the he’s handsome and ever so charming - words he never thought he’d hear

“So pretty—“, you mumble, moving to peck the small scar the splits his eyebrow, “You look perfect, König.”

Sebastian Krueger:

prideful bastard, he’s showing off each and every scar - telling you exactly what happened. it doesn’t matter that his body has a reminder that he was nicked by a blade, “Ja, the man that did this won’t lay a hand me again, meine Herz.”, it’s almost like he’s bragging about them

Krueger cracks jokes about some of his more serious wounds, waving off anything he considers boring. the small scrape on his hip? ignore that he accidentally hip checked the corner of a table, look at this one! it’s the size of your thumb, you want to know where he got it? no? oh, you don’t want to listen to his stories, kleiner Vogel? you’re hurting his feelings, you should kiss his scars to make it up to him

he just wanted to share some stories with you, isn’t it mean that you’re denying him? he’s holding your face, palm to your chin and his thumb slightly digging into your cheek, “Du willst mir nicht zuhören, kleiner Vogel? Fine, how about you give me some attention then, Klingt das gut?”. he grins when you press a kiss to the scar on his chest, humming at the feeling of your lips against his skin, “Schau dich an, isn’t this nice?”

in fact, Krueger likes it so much that he’ll seek you out just to feel you kiss his old wounds - settles you in his lap, crowds you against the kitchen counter. his eyes light up whenever you initiate, chest twisting with excitement as you peck his collarbone, where a nasty little wound had been years ago

softly smiling as you press kisses to the healed, rough bit of skin, you glance up at Krueger, “Tell me about this one?”

I love these silly little guys - I hope you enjoyed these fluffy, domestic interactions with these soldiers🎀✨

[fuctacles]

Under pressure

For @subeddieweek Day 1 | M | 1177 | accidental subspace, non-verbal communication, sleepover, Steve-instinctive-Dom-Harrington | Ao3 Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Ao3

Eddie avoided fights because he was a coward. A pussy, even, he'll admit. But there was a whole other reason for him avoiding sports.

He wasn't a big fan of physical contact. 

But since he's become better friends with Steve Harrington, he's been discovering things about himself. Things he wished would have stayed hidden. Forever.

The first time, it was a tussle for the remote. Eddie refused to watch another episode of whatever the fuck capitalist media was trying to spoon-feed them, while Steve was adamant there was a plot that he was invested in. One elbow to the gut and some pulled hair later, he landed underneath the guy, his weight pinning him to the ground.

Melting his bones.

Soothing.

"You okay?"

Steve sounded concerned about Eddie's sudden silence, and his mind scrambled to salvage his dignity. All he could manage was a groan, which Steve thankfully interpreted as a sign of pain and not the sudden weakness that it was. 

He instantly hopped off of him, apologizing.

Eddie has been avoiding and yearning for the touch ever since.

He had never considered Steve like that, but apparently being sat on was the biggest turn-on for his poor little dick, and now it was all he could think of at night.

His doom comes when he has to sleep over after a night of drinking. Steve insisted they share a bed, that it was alright, and Eddie foolishly believed him. 

It is fine until Steve rolls over to put away his glasses. 

"Shit, sorry. I just gotta..."

They didn't think this through, because Eddie was the one next to the bedside table, the one Steve was trying to reach. He almost crawls over Eddie to accomplish it, his weight heavy on top of him, pressing him to the mattress and making his mind go blank. 

He bites his lip so hard he probably draws blood, but it doesn't stop the whimper Steve's body literally pushed out of him.  Steve freezes. 

"Are you alright?" He drops the glasses and shoots up. "Did I hurt you?"

Eddie can't answer. His brain is screaming at his mouth, but he can't manage a single word, all he can think of is Steve's body back on him, that weight pressing him down, immobilizing him. He could probably reach pure bliss with just that.

When he doesn't get an answer, Steve pulls on his shoulder to flip him on his back. Eddie whines in protest but doesn't have enough control over his muscles to stop him. His shame gets put on display and Steve's eyes widen.

"Eddie?"

His pupils are huge as he blinks owlishly up at his friend.

"You okay?"

Eddie nods.

"Do you need anything?"

You. On me, against me, in me.

He shakes his head slowly, not breaking eye contact. This seems to frustrate Steve.

"Eddie, come on," he groans. "Clearly something's wrong. Do you need water? I can bring you some." He moves to stand up, but Eddie's in the way. He has to throw his leg over him, and Eddie presses his eyes closed, begging his body not to react.

It's enough to alert Steve, though, and he freezes hovering above him, mid-movement. 

"Huh."

It's a soft sound, barely there, and Eddie decides to keep his eyes closed. Maybe if he does, whatever realization Steve has gets forgotten, and he moves on, brings him the damn water, and maybe throws it on him like on a horny dog. Maybe that would help him.

But no, the ‘huh’ is followed by Steve settling down on his hips.

Oxygen escapes him in a whiny breath, and his body presses up without his control, seeking that delicious weight of another body. 

"Want to make out about it?" Steve asks out of the blue like any normal person would in these circumstances. But Eddie doesn't answer him, he can't, and he doesn't know. He can only stare and writhe under him, making tiny sounds of need he can't comprehend. Steve frowns down on him, partially concerned, partially curious. 

"Don't feel like talking?" he asks. Eddie gives him a nod. He hums. "Can you answer some yes or no questions? Nod for a yes and shake your head for no."

Nod.

"You can blink twice if you don't know or don't want to answer. Okay?"

Nod.

"What do you do if you don't want to answer?"

Eddie blinks twice.

"Good. Great." Steve smiles, and Eddie mirrors it through his haze. "Are you feeling alright?"

Nod.

"Do you need water?"

Shake.

"Do you need the bathroom?"

Shake.

"A snack?"

Shake.

Steve considers him, perched on top of his body. Eddie tentatively reaches up, palms resting on his thighs. Steve's gaze follows his fingers, where they just rest with no ill intent, only there to touch.

"Will we talk about it more in the morning?"

Eddie hesitates. Does he want to talk about it? To bring his shame to the light of day, confess the budding crush on his friend? But Steve doesn't seem angry, he's not kicking him out of the bed. He's being soft and gentle and trying to understand. Maybe in the morning, they could understand it together. Tentatively, he nods.

That eases Steve's frown a bit, but he sighs when another problem hits him.

"I don't know what else to ask," he admits with a huff. 

Eddie wants to help, so he slides his hands up, towards his hips, and tries to convey as best as possible where he wants him. He stares into his eyes, begging him to understand.

"Want me to lay down on you?"

He nods furiously, excited to get what he needs. 

Steve looks down. It's a minuscule movement of his eyes, but it's there. He will know if Eddie's hard when he moves, but he needs the heads-up. The bulge in Eddie's sweats is noticeable but not fully there, to Steve's relief. Having his friend under him in such a pliant state is already overwhelming as it is, and he knows Eddie will feel his own chub when he moves. 

"We're just sleeping tonight, alright?" Steve clarifies and Eddie nods without hesitation. "And cuddle a bit, I guess." Eddie nods again.

He moves, watching his friend’s face for any sign of distress. Eddie’s hands slide around him in an embrace that's more comforting than Steve's ready to admit, and soon they're chest to chest, legs tangled, and he has to crane his neck to maintain eye contact.

"That alright?"

Nod.

Eddie's hands squeeze him minutely and Steve settles down against his shoulder, finally resting his full body weight against him.

The man underneath him sighs, and it's like his whole body deflates. He makes a content sound in the back of his throat, and Steve wants to cry. It's so endearing and so comforting to have Eddie trust him like that. To have him turn into mush in his presence. 

He hopes he's not overstepping when he presses his nose to Eddie's neck, inhaling him and softly caressing his skin when he murmurs a "goodnight, Eds."

[vibingandsimping]

More random intimate positions/scenarios! Pt.2

Morally grey/villain characters this time!

Forewarnings: Dark content… including things like ownership, stalking, gore + obsession. Some pure fluff though :)

(I apologize for this being considerably longer compared to the others. I have been playing some more plus researching the lore. I feel more confident in my understanding of the characters and my writing.)

Gortash had his fingers wrapped around your chin as he beckoned you to look at him. You’re sat in his lap with your hands rested atop his shoulders. His expression is content with how closely pressed you are to his body. He could savor your warmth and read you so intimately. His brown eyes meet yours with a certain warmth laced in all the unwavering dominance. His lips quirk into a smirk as he watches your poorly built facade begin to crumble. His spare hand runs along the small of your back slowly… beckoningly. He'd be the hero of Baldurs Gate soon. He'd have all the power he dreamt of as a boy. Don't you wish to share that with him? His chest purrs when you keen into his touch. Good. He knew you could be a pretty thing for him. Such a formidable foe and he’d have you right by his side.

Minthara had her arms wrapped around your frame protectively. No matter how large or small you were in comparison. She was determined to hold you and plant some sort of reassurance into you. The way she regarded you was not that of any other. No, you were special to her and the woman realized it may not be so clear. She may be a cruel and a standard "drow", but beyond that there was an affection for you within her heart. She plants a kiss against the back of your shoulder-blades and it draws a shudder. Her muscles tighten around you as she presses her face into your shoulder, hot breath washing the junction of your neck and the flesh of your shoulder. You resist a second shudder. Unbeknownst to you, she’d follow you even if it was fruitless. Nothing was shaking her now that she was wrapped around you.

Orin's blade travels down your chest. It was gentle yet sharp... she wasn't particularly aiming to harm you but the thin streak of blood was enticing. The wound was so shallow it barely bubbled- just enough to alert her she broke the skin. Everything about the way she gazed at you was unhinged. You knew if she had pupils they'd be dilated. She draws her face downwards and laps at the tender flesh while you draw a shaky inhale. The whispers of praise and wishes for more barely reached your ears beyond the thrum of your heart. The slimy feel of her tongue worming it’s way up to your collarbones hitch your breath and you watch carefully. Each movement breeds more anticipation- she was soaking in your torment. She was wicked, truly, she devoted herself to you. You’d never understand her… but did you have to?

Ketheric’s hand laced with yours as you walked to his side. He was laid on his throne with open thighs as he acknowledged your presence. The man was aged and once a father. Well, technically still but Isobel regarded him with disowning. He long burned that bridge from his desperation and despair. You entered his life and turned things around. Everyone in Moonrise had never seen him so soft since he lost his daughter and wife. You took a seat on one of his thighs as he drew your hand to his face. His lips planted a gentle kiss on the back of your hand and then along your wrist. His beard tickled and caused you laugh, struggling against his hold as he stubbornly refused to let you go. When he finally did his lips were quirked upwards and there was a twinkling in his eye. He never thought he’d take a lover again… so he was glad when you broke down his walls. He’d once curse you for being persistent but now he’d praise you for it.

Raphael tugs on the invisible leash that was wrapped around your neck. You jerk forward on the bed as you kneeled with palms balancing you on the lush fabric. His wings were on grand display as his typically slicked hair tussled ever so slightly. Expression dark and expectant as you slowly crawled toward him. His brows furrowed as he tutted impatiently, a leg swinging out to hook around your thigh and jerk it underneath you. You collapsed as he drew you towards him with little patience. You now sprawled across his lower abdomen and crotch as his chest rumbles in amusement. Your skin burned with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. The hold he had on you, literally and figuratively, elicited a deep part of your brain. One that wished so carnally to be claimed… to be owned. Raphael would see to that, he promised, with one hand stroking your hair. You were such a sweet thing… and if you weren’t so persistent he’d lock you up for himself.

Kar’niss thought of you as a blessing. Truly, a drider like him didn’t deserve such an angel. He was supposed to be punished for all eternity for his shortcomings. He failed once and will never see to being a normal drow again. That’s why it didn’t make sense for him to be rewarded- but who is he to look at a gift with ungratefulness? He always holds you so tenderly… his body shockingly cold. He’s restless today, you note, as his eight legs skitter and his hands curl at you. There’s a flittering look in his face. A hunger he tried to conceal. When you question, he answers truthfully, drider need to feed on blood to survive. Every four days or he’d succumb to weakness and eventually die an empty husk. You offer yourself and he checks you for any hesitancy before diving in. He pierces the flesh with his sharp nails before indulging in the crimson that flowed. Between suckles and licks, he praises you for your generosity. Endless ‘thank you’s’ flow as much as your blood. He’s sure he’d never fallen deeper in love… or was it infatuation?

Haarlep knew their affection for you was essentially forbidden. Raphael handed you as a toy to them. Nothing more and nothing less- they should regard you only for his entertainment. They somehow found themselves wanting to indulge in your mind rather than your flesh after some time. It was your softness that first stunned them and foiled their pure-desire. Raphael never touched themself with such… they could barely find the word. Gentleness? Regard? They’d lay with you after your shared bliss and inch their nails down the side of your hip as you detailed your life. With a hand propping their head; they seemed enchanted. Mesmerized by how simple yet complex of a creature you were to them. Haarlep was a succubus and spent their life serving that purpose. They almost felt jealous of the freedom you held in life. They couldn’t help but find themselves fantasizing a life where you two lived in better circumstances. It was all a fantasy, though, they knew it with a bittersweetness.

Durge had always watched you from afar. Stalking, following and admiring. You caught their gaze amongst the crowd as they deliberately chose their next victim. You would’ve been easy. You didn’t hold yourself with a particular air in the ranks of Baldur’s Gate. Another citizen lost to the crazed killings of a maniac. It wasn’t until you’d noticed you had a secret admirer did your hackles raise. You could feel a pair of eyes on you at the most inopportune times. Then, came the letters at your doorstep detailing how they defied their nature. You could’ve been another hung corpse but instead they wished to wrap their mind around your heart and their lips amongst your neck. A shiver ran through you… a mix of disgust and a strange intrigue? Surely it was the way the letters were so detailed and deranged. You would’ve ignored it all until the stalking emboldened. You saw their figure in the window at night and through the alleyways. It was only a matter of time before they struck and claimed you as theirs. You’d simply have to keep an eye over your shoulder and hold a dagger close. If you could even strike them, that was.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : MAKE UP ARTIST : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None just pure cuteness :))

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: As Hugh Jackman's personal makeup artist and costume designer, you're used to working closely with him on set. But when you're tasked with applying makeup to his shirtless chest for a scene, the professional barrier between you starts to blur. With each brushstroke, the tension builds, and what begins as a routine makeup session turns into something far more intimate—culminating in a sweet, unexpected kiss that changes everything.

Based on this request.

YOU SHUFFLED THROUGH THE PILE OF BRUSHES, prosthetics, and small jars of pigment spread across your workstation. Today’s shoot was going to be an intense one. Hugh, the leading man, was going through another round of makeup tests for the action scenes, and your job was to apply the simulated cuts and bruises on his torso. Normally, this would be a typical day in your career as a makeup artist and costume designer—nothing you hadn’t handled before. But Hugh Jackman? Shirtless? That was a whole different level of focus required.

You rolled your shoulders, forcing yourself to breathe evenly. Hugh was charming, down-to-earth, and professional—completely unaware of the effect he had on people, including you. It didn’t help that the studio had turned the AC down a notch, and you could already feel your palms sweating.

“Hey, sweetheart, you all set?” Hugh’s voice called from behind the changing screen. You glanced up just as he stepped into view, dressed—or rather, undressed —for the scene. His sculpted chest was on full display, the smooth lines of his muscles catching the soft light filtering through the studio windows. His hair was still damp from the shower, and you caught a faint whiff of fresh soap as he moved closer to your station.

You swallowed, clutching your makeup brush a little tighter. “Y-yeah, all set,” you stammered, cursing yourself internally for sounding so flustered. Professional. Stay professional.

Hugh shot you a friendly grin, running a hand through his damp hair as he sat down in the makeup chair. “Ready for you to work your magic,” he said, leaning back casually.

You took a deep breath and moved closer. The first task was to apply some subtle bruising along his collarbone and ribs, where his character had taken a nasty hit. “Okay, just relax for me,” you murmured, dipping your brush into the blue-purple palette that would create the illusion of injury.

As you started applying the makeup, you couldn’t help but notice how perfect his skin was. Despite all the intense action sequences, stunts, and training he had done over the years, his skin was smooth and warm under your touch. You tried to focus, but the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed was distracting—very distracting.

“Is this okay?” you asked softly, dabbing the first bit of color near his collarbone. Your fingers brushed his skin as you worked, and you swore you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Yeah, feels great,” Hugh said, his voice warm and relaxed. He tilted his head slightly, giving you more access to the area you were working on. “You always do an amazing job, by the way. The makeup and costumes—everything just comes together because of you.”

You froze for a second, your brush hovering mid-air. Did he really just say that? A warm blush crept up your neck, and you quickly looked away, focusing on blending the makeup to hide your sudden embarrassment.

“T-thanks,” you managed, keeping your voice steady. “I’m just doing my job.”

Hugh chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “Don’t sell yourself short. Everyone on set talks about how talented you are.”

Your heart did a little flip at his words, but you refused to let it show. You focused on your work, brushing over his ribs and trailing down toward his abdomen, where you needed to add more detail. The proximity of your hand to his toned abs was making your mind wander, and you could feel your pulse quickening.

“Hold still for a sec,” you murmured, trying to mask your nerves with professionalism. You stepped in even closer, concentrating on the bruising near his ribs. Your breath caught as your fingertips brushed his skin again, and for a brief moment, you swore you felt his muscles tense slightly under your touch.

Hugh shifted, tilting his head to look at you, his eyes filled with curiosity. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You blinked, startled by the sudden gentleness in his tone. “Yeah, just making sure everything looks right,” you said quickly, focusing on the bruise you were blending on his chest. But when you glanced up, you found him watching you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

His gaze lingered for a moment before he smiled, a slow, easy grin that sent warmth flooding through you. “You know,” he said, his tone playful but somehow... thoughtful, “you always seem so focused when you’re working. I admire that.”

Your cheeks burned, and you could only nod in response, not trusting yourself to speak. His compliment felt personal, like it wasn’t just about your job anymore. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your hands steady as you worked your way up to his collarbone again, adding the finishing touches to the makeup.

“You’re all done,” you said, stepping back and forcing yourself to take a deep breath. “What do you think?”

Hugh glanced down at his chest, examining the realistic bruises and scrapes you’d applied. “Wow, that looks incredible,” he said, his admiration clear in his voice. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

You smiled, relief washing over you that he was happy with the result. “Glad you like it.”

He stood up, stretching slightly, and you tried not to stare as his muscles shifted under the lighting. “You’re seriously talented, sweetheart,” he said, his eyes meeting yours again. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a makeup artist as good as you.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, the sincerity in his voice leaving you speechless for a moment. “Thank you,” you said, your voice soft. “That means a lot.”

Hugh’s gaze lingered on you, something unspoken passing between you in the quiet of the studio. Then, with that same charming smile, he added, “I mean it. You make coming to set the best part of the day.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe working with a shirtless Hugh Jackman wasn’t as nerve-wracking as you thought—maybe, just maybe, it was something more.

Before you could respond, you noticed Hugh stepping closer, his warm gaze locked on yours. There was a moment of hesitation—just the smallest flicker of uncertainty—but then he leaned in, his hand gently brushing your cheek. His touch sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” Hugh whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips.

And before you could think, before you could even comprehend what was happening, his lips were on yours—soft, warm, and so, so tender. The world seemed to stop for a second as you kissed him back, your hands instinctively finding their way to his chest.

The kiss was sweet, slow, and utterly perfect. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless and smiling like a pair of fools.

“You’re full of surprises,” you whispered, still in awe of what had just happened.

Hugh chuckled softly, his hand caressing your cheek. “Maybe. But I had to take my chance.”

And in that moment, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

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