#pornstar!bob

[thedroneranger]

𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬 ☿ 𝟗

☿ 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 "𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫" 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 (𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐀𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐧) ☿ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Rooster has a realization. ☿ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5.7k ☿ 𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲 ☿ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬 ☿ 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ☿ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭--𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟖+. 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟕𝟎𝐬--𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐫𝐚.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐂𝐀 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟏𝟕𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

There’s a lot of things you do that Rooster doesn’t call attention to. 

You never make your bed. It’s always a mess of linens and comforter, pillows thrown this way and that, and your throw blanket heaped on the floor. He sometimes peers into your room and swears that he can see your exact movements throughout the night, like the bed is a language only he is fluent in. It doesn’t bother him that you don’t make your bed--he just finds it odd. He had a couple friends who grew up on farms back in Virginia; he remembers their parents running a rigid, militant house. He wonders if it wasn’t the same for you. Or if it was exactly the same for you and this is the first place you’ve never had to make your bed--so you just don’t. 

For someone who grew up on a chicken farm, you eat a lot of chicken. Rooster always thought that if he saw the inside of something--if he saw their blood and their guts and all that ugly inside of them--he wouldn’t want to put it in his mouth ever again. Chicken is your usual choice at whatever restaurant you go to, unless they have good steak. And before, when you weren’t taking bumps--when you were hungry still, when you were still eating three meals a day-- sometimes all you would eat in a day is chicken. Boiled chicken and eggs for breakfast, pan-seared chicken for lunch, cornflake-crusted chicken for dinner.

Naked is just your natural state. You’re not shameful about it, you don’t get coy, and you don’t really care who sees you. Oftentimes, you prance around the house fully nude, even if you’re just making a pot of coffee or heading outside for a swim. And because you’re always naked, he can see that your belly is beginning to cave inwards--like it’s retreating behind your ribs. You don’t hide behind anything. You are a force of nature, baring all with little regard for consequences. You once answered the door fully in the nude to greet the pizza delivery driver, who wordlessly stared at you the entire time and lingered on the front porch for longer than necessary. 

When you get recognized on the street, when someone is brave enough to approach you and tell you what they recognize you from, you’re sweet. You aren’t shy, you aren’t humble--but you’re kind. You smile very politely, you sign whatever they want you to sign, you bat your lashes at them, you kiss their cheeks. Even if the men outnumber you, which they often do, you never are afraid. Rooster’s glad he’s there with you whenever groups approach you--but he knows that even when he isn’t there, you’re unafraid. No, you’re bold and unabashed. Men don’t frighten you--they excite you. Rooster knows that. 

But then, there are other things that he does call attention to. Like he can’t help but call attention to because it’s like someone breathing down his neck. 

Like you taking bumps often now. You don’t rely on Jake anymore for his supply--you have your own. You wear a fat, gold ring on your middle finger now. It’s solid gold and features a red ruby in the shape of a heart--but it opens up, the ruby attached to hinges, and stores your stash inside. It’s something you designed and bought yourself with one of your Goldman Homevideos paychecks, something you happily showed off to Jake and Bradley. Jake kissed it, of course. And now he kisses it almost every time he sees you. Rooster pretended to like it, smiling rigidly. You have the ability to see right through him--and he knows that. So, whenever you recognized his distaste in the ring, you sulked and buried your face in his neck and kissed on him until he was putty in your hands again. That’s just the effect you have on him. 

Right now, dressed in that terrible cheerleader outfit (which covers almost nothing), you’re rubbing a bump along your gums. You’re looking at yourself in the mirror, all dolled up, dripping sex. You’ve been practicing your lines for the past hour, diligently going over the script, and now you’re rewarding yourself. 

Rooster is sitting on the little sofa in your dressing room, watching you carefully rub the coke along your pink gums as you blink those long lashes at your reflection. He’s uncomfortable right now--this football uniform smells like dust and it’s too tight around his crotch, which he knows is the point. 

You clear your throat, catching Rooster’s eyes in the mirror. He looks very serious, his brown eyes swimming with concern, his lips a flat line, his arms crossed over the silly jersey he has on. 

“Giving me the hairy eyeball, huh?” You ask softly, perching a brow at him. “Is that any way to treat the broad you’re about to go to pound town with?” 

He doesn’t smile--and he doesn’t look away from you. 

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he tells you honestly, nodding towards your ring as you close it and slide it off your finger, dropping it in the little purse you brought with you today. “Really, Cherry. I don’t dig you getting high before filming, baby.” 

This isn’t the first time he’s told you this. It’s the first time he’s told you this in this room, sure. It doesn’t feel more or less honest in here, where the scent of sweat and sex is thick in the air, even if the cleaning ladies try to cover it with bleach and air freshener. You cast in the harsh white light of this stuffy room instead of the low, orange glow of the living room or the afternoon sunshine as you lounge by the shimmering pool.  

“Oh, what’s the harm?” You ask, spinning around to grin at him. “I’m only having a little fun, daddy! Blow’s the bomb, don’t you know?” 

Rooster shakes his head softly. He does know about blow--and he knows that it’s all fun and games for you right now, but that it won’t always be. 

Honestly, he wants to tell you this. He wants to rub your nose in his mistakes and have you cry and tell him you wanna be better. And he doesn’t know how he got here--when he became so much older than everyone, when he started feeling like he wanted to change the way you were living. 

He remembers being twenty-one, when all the glitz was enough to make him feel high. He remembers that he felt like he knew everything. He remembers that no one could tell him anything. If they tried, Rooster would be done with them. He would’ve branded them a buzzkill and left them in the dust. 

He doesn't want you to leave him in the dust. 

So, as you grin at him expectantly, a little bit of white powder dotting the top of your lip, he decides to drop it.

“C’mere,” he says to you, nodding to his lap. 

And you comply with vigor, pleased as a plum that he’s not lecturing you. You plop yourself right down on his lap, carefully minding your big hair and carefully done makeup--which is always a tad too heavy for your liking. 

Rooster lets himself grow comfortable with you straddling him: your thighs bracketing his, your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, your waist beneath his palms, your fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. He inhales your scent, all that Cherry, and then reaches up and carefully wipes the coke off your lip. 

“Thanks a million,” you whisper to him, beaming. 

He nods, brows furrowed slightly. It surprises him when you catch his thumb with your lips, sucking the little bit of blow off his finger. But it doesn’t surprise him when you gently kiss the pad of his thumb. 

“You’re a sweetheart today,” he tells you like you aren’t a sweetheart everyday. “What’s the occasion?” 

You grin. 

“Just have good vibes today,” you tell him honestly. You toy with the gold chain around his throat, the one he never takes off, and bite your lip softly. “I was thinking…I wanted to go to the disco tonight.” 

Rooster stiffens. 

“I think I catch your drift,” Rooster says softly, frowning. “I don’t go to to the disco, baby.”

You pout--it’s a ridiculously childlike thing. He laughs, pinching your bottom lip, and you don’t stop yourself from whining and bouncing softly on his lap. 

“C’mon,” you whine. You hold his cheeks in both your hands, stroking his sideburns carefully. “Take me out dancing.” 

He shakes his head, not breaking his eyes from yours. Your pupils are blown now. 

“Negative,” he tells you. “Not happening.” 

“But if you don’t take me dancing, then who will?” You ask. 

Perhaps you don’t even mean to manipulate him--but that is what you’re doing. You both know the answer to that question. If he doesn’t take you, then Jake will. And as close as Rooster and Jake are, they both seem to get a bit chuffed when one has you and the other doesn’t. You’re not blind--you know it, you see it, you feel it. Usually, you’d feel bad about this kind of thing. You really love them both. But you’re high right now. And you want Rooster to take you dancing. 

Rooster’s throat is tight. 

“You’re killing me,” he tells you gently. 

He watches your face when he says that. The way your pupils are unchanging as they stare into his, the way your smile widens by a millimeter, the way heat blooms across your chest. 

You’re pleased. 

“Oh, get real,” you tell him, shaking your head. “You love it when I hurt you.” 

It’s an unnecessary amount of cruelty--one that you don’t even register when you’re this high up in the clouds, when wispy tendrils of pink and purple are clouding your brain. 

His brows knit--just for a moment. But you don’t catch it, not when someone knocks on the door. 

“Ready on set!” 

“Let’s fuck!” You exclaim, kissing Rooster long and hard on the lips before scrambling to your feet. 

As Rooster follows you out of the room, a pep in your step, he sees you before you came to California, before Dennis found you, before you moved into his life. He can see you, clear as day, wearing a prairie dress that’s faded from the sun. Your hair matted with sweat, hay strewn about your messy locks. Standing in a dank barn, grabbing a chicken by its feet, laying it down against a stump. Swinging the ax with an unanticipated amount of strength, one that can only be developed from precarious farmwork. He can see the blood, that hot and red stuff, spurting on your face and all across your throat. And he can see how calm you are, your face an endless flat sea--serene, rippling. 

You’ve killed before--legally, on a farm, just chickens. But you know what it’s like to end something’s life. You’ve been the last thing glassy eyes have seen, the blade of your ax shimmering in the sunlight as heat pours down on your pigtails. 

Rooster doesn’t feel any differently about you, even after seeing you as ruthless and unbending as you were in Nebraska. Maybe that should scare him--that he feels the exact same way. 

As he follows you down the hallways, your grin lighting up the set and everyone around it, he thinks that maybe he loves you. He’s known for a while that he loves you--the same way he loves Jake and Nat and Bob. But this feeling he has now, the one sitting so heavy in his gut, it’s different. 

He’s in love with you. 

He understands it then--how you are able to eat chicken still after seeing all that ugly inside of them. He gets it. He sees all that ugly inside of you, all that filth. And he still wants you on his tongue. He could have you for three meals a day, even after what he’s seen, and still order you at every restaurant. 

The difference is that he could never swing the ax, could never bring it down on you. And he thinks, with everything in his body and bones, that you could bring the ax down on him. 

And he’s still hideously, wretchedly in love with you. 

“Hey, kid,” he calls, holding the back of your neck, which suddenly feels very delicate in his hands. You grin at him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Bell Bottoms or Supernova tonight?” 

☿

You’ve been at Supernova for hours now.

Supernova is much bigger than Bell Bottoms, less exclusive. It’s a big, big building with red and pink lights and a ceiling full of mirrorballs. There’s tall, sleep tables and velvet booths. The dance floor takes up most of the joint, stretching far and wide and lit with technicolor. There’s a bar, of course, where Rooster’s been sitting all night watching you. 

It isn’t hard to find you, even as big as the joint is. You’re wearing a spectacular dress: gold chain-link with thin straps and an open back, the neckline drooping and nearly dipping to the meet of your ribs, the hem just barely touching your mid-thigh. Your eyelids are painted gold and your cheeks are artificially red, as are your lips, and the light catches your dress perfectly. And even if you weren’t wearing something that shines, Rooster would know where you were simply because it’s where everyone else is. The men are ogling at you, sinking elbows into their friends ribs just for a chance to dance with you. He’s watching carefully, making sure that no one is getting too close, too comfortable. 

“Dance with me,” you’ll beg him when you come to the bar to catch your breath. He’s always ready and waiting, pressing a Harvey Wallbanger into your palms that he ordered half an hour ago. “C’mon! Boogie down, daddy!” 

And then he smiles, shaking his head. 

His days of disco are over.

“Sorry, baby,” he keeps telling you. “I’ll just sit on my perch.” 

And, of course, you’ll grumble and whine. But then you finish your drink and sink back into the crowd, moving with them as steadily and seamlessly as scissors gliding on tissue paper.  

Between the bumps you’ve steadily been taking all night, which you stopped keeping track of after four, you feel like you’re on top of the world. You love the disco--all the smells, all the sights, all the people, all the funk, all the dancing. 

It might be where you’re happiest. 

Men have been flocking to you all night, telling you which films they’ve seen you in. You’ve autographed more skin than you ever thought possible, which tickles you. It only feels natural for you to be doing this. You weren’t flabbergasted the first time you were asked to sign something. It was the same way you felt about being in California: this is what you’re meant to be doing. People should be asking for your autograph. 

“Got any new films coming out?” A man asks you, lips pressed against your ear. 

Your back is to his front, your arms raised in the air, as you grind against each other to Boogie Nights by Heatwave.

“Tons!” You answer with a grin, eyes fallen shut. 

You don’t know what this man’s name is, but you’ve been dancing with him for a few songs now. He’s alright, not the best dancer, but the kind of man who probably doesn’t get attention from women as pretty as you very often. So he touches your body like it’s a piece of art, something he’ll never get to touch again up-close. 

You don’t mind it when his hands wander across your breasts, the metal cold against his palms, your nipples pert beneath your dress. You don’t mind it when he kisses the back of your neck, his mustache tickling your hot skin. You don’t mind it that he’s hard as he grinds against you, that he’s holding your hips against him like you’re trying to run away. You don’t mind it that he keeps grazing your cunt, that he’s testing his limits. 

You aren’t even sure what your limits are.

“I think you’re really very,” he says to you, feverishly kissing your throat. 

“I know it,” you call back to him, head thrown back in ecstasy. “I’m the best!”

Rooster’s watching it all unfold.

You don’t seem bothered by this chump that’s touching your entire body like it’s his hotblooded, American birthright. He watches for a long time, watching his knuckles drag along your cunt, watches his eyes crease in frustration and pleasure as he rubs his erection against the curve of your ass. 

  His chest is burning like he’s swallowed handfuls of sand, little grains of hatred slicing his lungs. He can’t stand it almost--watching this man touching you. He’s never felt this way before--he shouldn’t feel this way. And that’s why he stays seated at the bar, nursing another Tom Collins, his knuckles whitening. 

He only stands up when he sees the man’s fingers disappear beneath your dress. It’s a steady line this chump’s been toeing and he’s finally grown brave enough to touch your cunt. Maybe it isn’t your line, but it’s Rooster’s. 

He doesn’t even feel like he’s in his body as he throws cash--far too much cash--on the bar and stomps across the dance floor. He doesn’t mind shouldering people to get to you, doesn’t mind people spilling their drinks on him. He doesn’t mind interrupting the whole disco to get to where you’re standing. 

You’re surprised when Rooster is suddenly right in front of you, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and yanking you towards him and against his chest. You’re too high to really care what’s going on around you--and you don’t even realize that the man had his hand up the skirt of your dress until it isn’t anymore. 

In the haze of the disco, you look up at Rooster. Your ears are ringing. The music is too loud. The lights are too bright, too pink. Your chest is hot, your mascara feels too heavy on your lashes, your lips feel numb. 

The man stares at Rooster with his mouth ajar, his eyes wide. 

And Rooster leans forward, that strange anger only you’ve been able to invoke in him sitting hot on his tongue like a bed of coals, and jams his finger into the man’s chest. 

“You ever fucking touch her again, I’ll kill you,” Rooster sneers. He’s being loud--louder than he should be--but he wants the man to hear him. “You catch my drift, brother?”  

The man blinks at Rooster, face twisted in dismay. 

“What, you her pimp?” The man is genuinely asking him. “She’s public property! C’mon, man! Gimme a turn!”

That breaks something inside of Rooster. That anger that’s been steadily festering, the one that was carefully stoked by this idiot’s wandering hands and invasion of space and the loud music and your lack of attention, boils over. Rooster’s fairly certain there’s steam pooling out of his ears. 

So, Rooster does something he hasn’t done since his early, early years. First, he suddenly holds you by the armpits and lifts you--easily, seamlessly--before setting you beside him and out of the danger zone. Then he unbuttons his cuffs, not removing his eyes from the man standing in front of him, the one who’s smirking at Rooster as if to say oh, you’re really gonna hit me? 

You’re looking up at Rooster, your veins throbbing. Everything is in slow motion, even your hearing. The song seems slow, so very slow, and you can feel every second of time that passes. 

Rooster twists his father’s Naval ring on his pinkie--which he only wears when he’s going out on the town--and balls his right hand in a tight fist. 

“Say it again,” Rooster demands, narrowing his eyes at the man. He straightens his shoulders, sets his jaw. “I’ve gotta hear it one more time. Just to be sure.” 

The man, who is both drunk and stupid, grins. 

“She’s public property,” the man tells Rooster, poking his chest between every word.

Something flashes across Rooster’s face--something that is almost a smile. 

“Thanks a million,” he says to the man before promptly rearing his fist back and slamming it forward, right against the man’s nose. 

He’d forgotten how bizarre it feels to punch someone, how it breaks the delicate skin between his knuckles, how bones feel when they crunch, how immediate the bleeding is. But it all comes rushing back to him like muscle memory. And as he watches the man crumble to the floor, the crowd hardly noticing the altercation and dancing over him anyway, Rooster’s chest feels lighter than it has all night. 

Your eyes are glazed over when Rooster looks at you. 

Again, he straightens his father’s ring. Then he smooths his hand over your hair and ducks down to look into your eyes. 

“You gravy, baby?” He asks seriously. 

You swallow hard. 

“Take me home,” you tell him. Your expression is unreadable. “Now.” 

He practically carries you out of Supernova, flexing his fist, which is already rapidly becoming sore. It’s cooled off outside and both of you gulp the fresh air when you step into the desolate, dark parking lot. Rooster’s car is parked in the very back of the lot, bracketed by a shrub and a VW. 

He’s worried as the two of you walk, his hand gripping yours, your nails digging into his palm. He keeps looking back at you and you don’t look at him, your face flaxen and unmoving. Your lipstick is smeared and your pupils aren’t as blown anymore, but you don’t reach for your ruby ring. 

He’s achingly close to feeling guilty. He’s achingly close to telling you that he’s sorry. 

And finally, when you’re in front of his car, he turns on his heel to tell you that he’s sorry. That he didn’t mean to get so angry. That he only wants to protect you. That it won’t ever happen again. 

But that’s the precise moment your desire for him outweighs your patience. You wanted to wait until you got home, maybe have him take you in the foyer. You can’t wait, though--not after watching what he just did. You need him more than you’ve ever needed anyone before, an ache between your legs so deep and so strong that you think you could catch fire by rubbing your legs together. 

“Look, I--!” 

Rooster chokes on his words when you suddenly pull his hand and guide it between your legs, when you push his fingers against your cunt. He can feel it--how slick you are, how wet you’ve grown from the short walk from the club to the car. 

He swallows hard.

You're looking deeply into his eyes, everything around you gone but him.

For a long moment, you two just stand there--his fingers against your lips, your face straight and your eyes searing as they pour into his, his lips parted, his chest tight. 

“It’s you,” you tell him, really meaning it, not just high. “Just you.” 

Only he can make you that wet, that fast.

You’re very serious right now, serious about all of this. You were too high to decide if that man was allowed to touch you. And even though Rooster doesn’t like the disco, he took you. And even though he doesn’t dance, he kept an eye on you and a cold drink in your hand. And even though he’s usually so collected, so cool, he broke some chump’s nose tonight for insulting you. And you’re fairly certain that he was just about to apologize to you for that. 

He doesn’t move his eyes away from yours, not even for a moment. But he wraps his other arm around you, careful of not getting his blood on your dress, and pulls you closer to him as he rests his back against his car. 

Without breaking his gaze from yours, he hooks his hands around your panties and tugs one time. They rip, the lace things, and he lets them fall onto the asphalt without a second glance. 

And then he starts moving his fingers. 

He knows you like the build-up of it all. You like it when he lets his fingers drift across your opening, your clit, gathering all the anticipation there. You like it when he just barely presses his fingers inside of you, just enough to feel that first stretch, before he rubs your clit in slow and monotonous circles. 

You’re already breathing heavy, his fingers urging that pleasure that only he seems to understand. He nurtures your pleasure, makes sure you’re with him every single moment, that you’re moving with him. 

“This what you need?” He asks, voice low and rocky. 

You nod, lashes fluttering--but you don’t dare take your eyes off his. His brown eyes, those sweet whiskey-colored things, are darker than you’ve ever seen them before. He wants you--bad. You can feel how hard he’s growing, pressed up against your hip. 

“Yes,” you whisper to him, locking your knees when they begin to feel weak.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve already had him today. Because when he’s fucking you with football tights at his ankles and you’re biting down on the handle of your pom-pom and Dennis is telling Rooster to pull your ponytail, it isn’t real. The sex is, sure--it’s really his cock and it’s really your cunt and you really feel pleasure. But it isn’t you and it isn’t him. 

This, this right now, is different.

“It makes you this wet when I break some youngblood’s nose, huh?” He asks you, still moving his fingers slowly along your wetness. He’s watching the breaths catch behind your teeth as you begin to succumb to the overwhelming gratification of it all. “Shit, I was gonna say sorry. Thought you hated me.” 

He isn’t teasing you. He’s being real, honest. You know that. 

“Couldn’t,” you tell him. 

This feels vulnerable. Not because you’re outside in a parking lot, not because your panties are on the concrete, not because you’re worried that someone called the cops. No, this feels vulnerable because of how intimate it is. You’ve never felt more desperate for him, never felt as protected by anyone ever in your life. 

This is different than before. This is more  than you’ve ever done. It’s him, still in his silk shirt and trousers, his knuckles busted up. It’s you, trying to breathe steadily as an orgasm begins to bubble in your belly, trembling in your platforms. 

You’re at his mercy, really. 

If he told you to fall onto your knees and lick the gravel from the bottom of his shoe, you would. You’d do anything he asked.

But he doesn’t want you to lick the gravel off the bottom of his shoe. He doesn’t want you on your knees in this parking lot. He doesn’t want you to do anything but stand here, in front of him, and cum. 

“How close are you?” Rooster asks. It’s hard to ignore his cock straining against his pants now, hard to ignore how badly he needs you. You’re whimpering, head lolling to the side. He can see that you’re trying hard to keep your eyes open and on him--and he loves that you’re trying. “Eyes up here, baby.” 

Like a call to action, your neck straightens. He continues his movements on your clit, moving in faster and tighter circles as your legs quiver. 

“Close,” you whisper. “So, so close.” 

Heat pools in your belly, wetness drips down Rooster’s wrist. Fuck, he wishes he could taste you right now. He wishes he could swallow you whole. He wishes he could bathe in your arousal--really, he does. That’s how badly he desires you. 

“You’re gonna cum for me,” he tells you, his voice tender but serious. “And then I’m gonna lay that passenger seat down and fuck you real good, okay?” 

You can only nod, squeaking out your breaths as an orgasm licks your heels. 

“Yeah,” you whimper. 

And it only takes his lips pressing against yours--finally, finally, finally--for that orgasm to suddenly seize you, tripping you up, sending you tumbling to the asphalt. It washes over you and you’re groaning against his lips, quivering, shaking, eyes squeezed shut. He holds you up, arm firmly wrapped around you. 

True to his word, he moves seamlessly after. 

He lays the passenger seat down, helps you lay back, closes the door behind him, pulls his trousers down just enough, holds onto the delicate meat of your thigh, and sinks into you with ease. 

He’s watching your every move as his cock fills you, his eyes dark and his lips parted in ecstasy. You’re warm and wet--tight, but so wanting of him. You’re laid out, expensive dress pooled at your hips, and looking up at him like you’re drunk on the scent of his skin. And you are--you really are. 

All you want--all you need, all you have--is him. 

It’s a very quiet fuck. Neither of you say much of anything. It’s a tight squeeze in the car, especially with him on top of you, but you want it bad enough to make it work. He’s pressing into that silky spot inside of you, the one that sends you over the edge quicker than you care to admit, and his eyes aren’t leaving yours. 

“You’re perfect for me,” Rooster tells you. He’s not just talking about the way your cunt fits around his cock. “Always so fucking perfect for me, Cherry-baby.”

You nos, tears gathering on your lashline. This is all you want. You want to be full all the time--full of him. 

“Tell me I’m good,” you whimper, holding firmly to his shoulders as he rocks himself inside of you. “Please, Roo.” 

He lets himself fall to his elbows, lets his face fall against yours, his forehead pressed to your temple. 

“You’re so good, baby,” he tells you. “Always been so good for me.” 

He means it, too. 

You know that. 

☿

When you open the front door, your shoes in Rooster’s hands, you’re unsurprised to see Jake sitting on the sofa with a bong settled on his lap. He gives you a grin and a low wolf-whistle as you walk into the foyer, mascara smeared.

“Howdy, cowboy,” you greet, voice soft. 

Rooster closes the front door behind him, nodding at Jake and following you to the kitchen. 

“What it is, brother Rooster? Sister Cherry?” Jake asks, leaning over as you guide Rooster to the sink. Barely, he can see that something dark red stains Rooster’s knuckles. “Uh-oh. Who’d you rough up?” 

Neither you or Rooster answers Jake. Your ears are still ringing from being fucked in the car, from riding home with Rooster’s cum spilling down your thighs and onto the upholstery. 

While he’s waiting for an answer, Jake takes a long hit from the bong and then settles it on the table before letting his chest rest against the back of the couch as he watches you start the tap. 

“What am I, chopped liver over here?” Jake asks, grinning. “C’mon, gimme the skinny!”

Rooster sighs.

“Some chump was giving Cherry a hard time,” Rooster answers. 

Jake is amused by this, his grin growing. 

“Oh, you put him in his place, brother Rooster?” Jake calls, clapping his hands together. His laugh echoes off the tiles. “Well, goddamn! Haven’t seen Rooster in action since the start of the decade!” 

Rooster rolls his eyes.  

He’s not upset about Jake being here--he’s just tired. And he doesn’t feel like sharing you tonight, doesn’t feel like competing for your attention. 

But even right now, all your attention is on him. You’re carefully taking his Naval ring off, slipping it onto your thumb for safekeeping. You’re checking the tap, making sure it’s the right temperature, before you guide his knuckles beneath it. He doesn’t hiss the way he wants to when the water hits his skin--he stays still for you, lets you gently scrub the dried blood off his knuckles. 

He’s watching it all with a softness in his chest, a tenderness beating as thick as blood all through his veins. 

“Hey, Jake?” You call without looking up. “Mind grabbing me a bandage? And some vaseline?” 

Jake has a quip ready, but he can see that you and Rooster are entirely submerged in your own little world. So, he just silently nods and starts for the medicine cabinet in Rooster’s bedroom. 

Rooster wraps his free arm around your waist, holds you close to him. He buries his nose in your hair, inhales until his lungs are full of you. And you dutifully continue blotting the blood, assessing the damage. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

He somehow hasn’t asked you yet. 

“Always,” you answer. 

“I shouldn’t have let him get as far as he did,” he tells you. He winces when you press into his wound, but kisses your head when you quickly apologize. “Shouldn’t have just watched for so long.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” you tell him because it doesn’t. “I’ve had worse.” 

It feels like a punch to the gut. But then you’re lying your head against his chest and he feels instantaneously okay again. 

“I said I’d take care of you,” Rooster whispers. 

You nod. It was on New Years--you remember it. 

“You do,” you tell him. 

His lungs are still burning from what happened inside Supernova. He hurt someone, busted their nose up real good and fine, for you. For you. And he doesn’t feel bad about it, even--he feels, almost, good. He feels like it snapped some cord that Rooster had wound too tightly, like a crucial muscle he can never pinpoint is finally relaxed. 

And then he thinks about what he must’ve looked like to you--angry, red-cheeked, smiling, wielding such strength. He knows it turned you on. But he wonders if, somewhere deep inside you, you saw that ugly in him. How do you feel about it? Do you still want him the way he wants you? 

“You gonna keep letting me?” It’s all he can muster to ask you. 

“You’re not getting rid of me,” you answer softly. “Don’t try.”

It’s enough for now. He kisses your temple.

☿ 𝐚/𝐧: this took a turn!! wasn't expecting to write like any of this at all but here we are!! love this for them!!

☿ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

☿ 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠

☿ 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬

[vvampirelust]

thinking about ice hockey player!abby

warnings: smut, 18+, dom!abby, sub!reader, strap on sex, spanking, quite rough sex, mentions of alcohol consumption, not proof read

that girl would get veryyyy possessive

she’s the star player, hell practically the star of campus. (frat!abby??) having been the captain back on her old high school team, she’s earned a name for herself.

so of course she’s gonna adore you in her jersey. surprising her post-game as you celebrate her victory, snug in her blue hockey hoodie #13 adorning the back. abby picks you up when you finally get to see her, kissing you with force, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. “did you see that?!” she’s asking excitedly, and there’s nothing you love more than seeing the passionate shine in her eyes as she recalls her last goal. you join her and the team for a celebratory beer in the parking lot, reminiscing and cheering loudly about the best moments.

“nice hoodie, babe,” abby calls from behind you as you both walk back to your car. abby, the few steps latter was enjoying the view with a smirk on her lips. you match her smile, twirling once in front of her, pulling a laugh from her throat, “you like? found it under my bed, wonder who left it there,” you shrug, a lightness to your voice. abby catches up to you, strong arms hugging you to her chest, faux gasp leaving her lips, “we’ll never know,” she breaks off into a chuckle and you can’t help but join her, shoving her with a roll of your eyes.

back home, you had abby pressed against the inside of her door. her dad away on a conference in seattle meant you and abby have been playing wife in her beach house for the past week. she set a challenge to fuck you anywhere and everywhere possible. who would complain? “baby. baby,” you’re both lost in the kids you’re sharing. the flat of your palms find her chest, pushing her softly against the door. “wait here two minutes, take your clothes off and i’ll meet you in the bedroom,” you speak lowly, flashing her the eyes as a coy smile spreads on your lips.

abby audibly groans, “fuck, go. now.” she orders, not wanting to wait any longer.

approximately 1 minute and 29 seconds later, abby finds you in nothing but her jersey, sprawled across the kingsized bed like a pornstar. she bites her lip as she takes you in, you’re so slutty, she thinks, she loves it. she makes a note to tease you for it at some point. “look at you, pretty girl,” she admires, those icy eyes never leaving your body, even as she walks around the side of the bed, “that all for me?” abby asks, breaking her gaze to bend over. just the sound of that specific drawer opening has your thighs rubbing together. her question fell on deaf ears, you too busy staring at your smokeshow of a girlfriend. she had done what you’d said, a pile of clothes on the stairs waiting to be tripped over in the morning. but god, the sight was worth it. your eyes trail the curve of her ass as she was rummaging, you’re near drooling over the way her back muscles shift beneath her tanned skin. abby smirks when she stands to face you again, busying herself with buckling the strap. abby clears her throat;

“baby.” your eyes find hers, “focus.”

head bobbing in a nod, you swallow the whimper threatening to escape. “i asked, if this was all for me? hm? you look so sexy in my hoodie babe,” abby crawls over where you are pushed up on your elbows, caging your body with hers. “you played so well out there tonight, anderson. thought you deserved it,” you tell her sweetly, inviting her in with open legs. abby chuckles, moving one big hand to cup the inside of your knee, ever so slowly sliding up your inner thigh. “gettin’ pussy for a good game, do i?” she’s smug, taking hold of what’s hers. you, now unbearably horny starts nodding, “yeah!”

“yeah, sweetheart?” she mocks the high pitch of your voice, lazily nodding along with you. “fuck me, you’re so wet,” thick fingers push between your folds, “want it bad, don’t you baby?” abby grins, looking down at the mess between your legs. “please, abby.” you pull her hair to gain access to her mouth, been deprived too long of the feeling of her lips on yours. her tongue invades your warm mouth, throaty groan following suit, which you swallow happily. the kiss ends with a wet smack, abby’s heavy breaths now mingling with your own. “i know, i know. i’m gonna fuck you, don’t worry. and you’re gonna keep that hoodie on, okay?”

“please baby, please fuck m-“ you can barely finish your sentence before she’s using those strong arms to flip you onto all fours, abby’s jersey hitching around your waist. you can feel the weight of her pretty pink strap against your thigh, ass wiggling in anticipation. abby responds with a surprisingly hard spank, jolting you onto your elbows as a yelp passes your lips. “abby, baby, please!” you feel the warmth of her free hand sliding up your spine, hiking her hoodie up, allowing her to see the arch of your back along with the word ‘Anderson’ boldly written in white along your shoulders. “fuck,” she moans.

a strong hand grasps your hip, you can hear abby spit behind you followed by her panting heavily. you whimper when you feel her tip splitting your slick folds, wasting no time as she begins to thrust inside of you. pushing deeper with each small rut of her hips, relishing in your little “uh, uh, uhs” abby does this until she bottoms out, your cunt stuffed and throbbing. “that’s it, you always take me so well baby.” abby grips your hips tight.

she fucks you with the same aggression she portrayed on the rink earlier that night. your chest flush against the mattress, your loud moans still echoing through the bedroom, even with your face smushed into the pillows, leaving a wet patch of drool and tears in your wake. using your hips to set the pace, she pulls you back on her cock, profanities slipping past her lips . “such a slut for me, fucking look at this pussy, squeezing so tight,” she moans so prettily, her clit rubbing against the strap just right. she stares at her surname as she gets off, the pace of her thrusts quickening, hurtling towards her climax. the sound of her moans shoot straight to your lower stomach, clenching tighter around her. “my fucking best girl, baby. just needed my lucky charm tonight,” abby huffs out, stuttering, “couldn’t have done it without you.”

abby cums with a cry, curling over your back, arms wrapping under your shoulders. her hips don’t falter for a second, riding out her high while pushing you to your own. at the last moment, her fingers thread in your hair, tugging your head back so she could hear you clearly. she wanted to hear you scream for her, just like you did when she won her game.

“abs i’m- oh my god, abby!” you follow right behind her, practically mewling like a bitch in heat. you cum hard, creaming on your girlfriends cock, she fucks you through it. even as it means hurtling herself into overstimulation, whimpering in your ear until she feels your body beginning to tremble beneath her. abby pants, pushing herself up with a grunt. palms spreading your cheeks, she watches the way your cunt tries clinging to her cock as she slowly pulls out. you’re a whimpering mess, “abby,” you mourn the stretch. “m’right here,” she tells you breathlessly, her thumb running down your folds, circling your gaping hole, collecting the creamy cum leaking from you. her teeth find purchase within her bottom lip once again, taking a last look at the hoodie bunched around your top half. and at her name decorating it.

[galatially]

bob floyd does, indeed, fuck and fucks well

Explicitly Yours | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: When Bob met you, he fell for you hard and fast. He thought you might be his perfect match, the one that would make his days feel full instead of lonely. He never would have dreamed you had a secret. But secrets are known to be revealed at the most inconvenient of times, and Bob's surprised hesitation could cost him the thing he wants most.

Warnings: Smut, oral, fluff, angst, misogyny, language, mentions of adult film industry

Length: 11k words (what have I done?)

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Former Pornstar!Female Reader

This was written for International Bob Floyd Fucks Month hosted by @attapullman. Check my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger

Bob was fresh off of a long deployment when he returned to work at North Island on Monday morning to find he would begin training as part of a new taskforce. He was tired and antsy, still overstimulated from being around so many people on the aircraft carrier, but he was also realizing how lonely he was. 

He'd arrived back to a sterile, empty, dusty apartment, slept for two days, and now he was back to work. He couldn't even have a cat or a houseplant. He really would like to have a cat or a houseplant. Mostly he thought about how nice it would be to have a girlfriend. A sweet one who would wait for him to return home so his apartment didn't feel so sad. One who didn't mind that sometimes he preferred it to be quiet. One who would let him dote on her a little bit when he was home.

When he was told to report to Classroom Six in his uniform instead of the tarmac in his flight suit, Bob knew it was going to be a long day. That idea only grew as soon as he walked in and was accosted by his friends. "You're back!" Natasha screeched, streaking across the room like a brunette cannonball and slamming into his arms. "It's not even fair that we weren't deployed together. I missed you!"

"Missed you too, Nat. Thanks for all the emails."

Then he felt Bradley, Jake and Javy all jostling him around until his glasses were crooked on his face. That's probably why he did a double take when he saw you. There was no way you were that beautiful. His glasses must need to be adjusted on his face. But he was wrong. You looked the same after he pushed his wire frames back into place. 

He swallowed hard and whispered, "Who's that?"

The guys all looked at him with matching smirks, and Javy told him your name. "Civilian. She's Warlock's new assistant. Got reassigned from a different department last week."

"She's real cute," Jake added. "And she looks so familiar."

"Why does she look so familiar?" Bradley asked, and Bob realized that the whole group was staring at you where you were conversing quietly with Warlock. "We've been trying to figure it out for a week."

You didn't look familiar to Bob. You just looked pretty with bright eyes and a friendly smile, both of which were trained on him now. Of course you were looking his way now, because everyone had mussed up his hair and wrinkled his uniform. He didn't mind so much that you caught him staring, because you were the kind of woman who must get that a lot.

"Lieutenant Floyd," Admiral Bates said as he stood, and Bob saluted his superior officer immediately. "Welcome back."

"Sir," Bob replied, doing his best not to let his gaze drift back to you. "Thank you."

Then Warlock called the room to order, and Bob ended up sitting in the front row, directly across from you. Barely six feet away. You were so pretty, it wasn't even funny. The curve of your face and your neck and the way you moved were mesmerizing. Smooth and fluid. Confident. Beautiful. You kept Warlock on task and seemed to have all the pertinent information about the class memorized. But all of it was lost on Bob, because he was way too distracted. 

By lunchtime, he had sweat through his undershirt, and he was sure his uniform shirt wasn't looking much better. The way you turned to look directly at him with a slightly guarded expression when you stood made him blush. It must be obvious to you that Bob couldn't keep his eyes off your face.

"Hi," you greeted. "Lieutenant Floyd."

Bob swallowed hard before something that sounded vaguely like Hello came out of his mouth. 

Your smile was tinged with a little sadness as you stuck out your hand. "I've been looking forward to meeting the last team member. Welcome back from deployment, Lieutenant."

And then you were walking away, but Bob was still sweating.

--------------------------

For the next four days, Bob got there early to ensure he had that same front row seat. He had a full blown crush. Heart pounding, palms damp, unable to focus on anything other than his crush on you. When he wasn't at work looking right at you, he was daydreaming about you. When he wasn't daydreaming about you, he was asleep and having actual dreams where you were his girlfriend. In one of them, you gave him a back massage, and he woke up with an erection. 

He could barely even look at you for the nauseous feeling that took up residence just below his pounding heart, but he couldn't look anywhere else. He'd never been like this before. Sure, he'd been attracted to many women in the past, but this was something else entirely. 

"But why is she so familiar looking?" Jake asked Bradley at lunch. "You sure you didn't fuck her?"

"Oh, I think I'd remember fucking someone that looked like that," Bradley replied with a chuckle. "Wait... did you fuck her?"

"I don't think so?" Jake replied, looking a little panicked. "She's not the one I went home with on my birthday, is she? Because you know I can't remember that night. And if I fucked her and can't remember it, then I deserve to be executed."

They both erupted into laughter with Javy, and Bob felt deflated. One of the three of them was definitely going to ask you out sooner rather than later, and instead of getting an occasional guarded glance in his direction, Bob would have nothing.

That night at the bar, he sat with his cup of peanuts and talked with Nat about work while everyone else played pool. "I guess we have another week or two of lectures ahead of us, but I can't wait to get back in the air."

"Yeah," Bob replied, glancing around the room in case the Hard Deck was your Friday night scene. It wasn't really his, but he came for his friends. And if he got to spend another week or two in the classroom, he wasn't going to complain; there would be no way for him to look at you when he was in the cockpit. 

"Bob!" Javy called as if he'd been trying to get his attention for a few minutes. He was waving a pool cue. "Take over for me. I need to go shoot my shot."

As Bob stood, he watched Javy head off into the crowd toward a woman who looked like you. He did a double take, his heart leaping up into his throat as Bradley started to push him closer to the pool table. Javy saw you. He was going to ask you out. A feeling of devastation filled his lungs, but then the woman turned around, and it wasn't you. Her smile wasn't nearly as pretty, and she didn't have the same eyes. 

Relieved, Bob sank the seven ball before running the table like he was some sort of pro. But he knew deep inside that he was going to have to ask you out himself or miss out on even having a chance with you. 

Every day the following week, he tried to give himself a pep talk. He could do this. Even if you said no, it would be fine. It would be good practice for him. But he knew it would not be okay. He liked the sound of your voice and the way you moved, and he thought about you in every room of his apartment doing a wide variety of things. Some of them made him blush.

He couldn't tell if it would be worse to never even try or to have to live with himself after you looked at him and said you weren't interested. At least if he kept things quiet, the guys couldn't find a way to make fun of him. And although they all liked to talk about you at lunch, to his knowledge, none of them had asked you on a date. Maybe they were as intimidated as him.

On Wednesday, you dropped your pen, and Bob picked it up for you. He got a "Thanks, Lieutenant Floyd," in response along with a cautious smile. Then on Thursday, he helped you move the projector before class started, and you said, "Thanks. You're a lot stronger than I am." He felt like he floated to his seat after that. 

On Friday, disaster struck. You were organizing your stack of notes at the end of the day when Bob stood. But then Bradley was there, leaning on the table in front of you after everyone had been dismissed. "Hey, so the guys and I were wondering if you ever made it out to the Hard Deck on Friday nights? I'd love to buy you a drink."

Bob nearly collapsed back into his seat as he watched your eyes searching Bradley's face like you were trying to tell if he was lying. "No, actually. I play Dungeons & Dragons most Friday nights."

A strangled sound escaped Bob. "You play D&D?" he asked before he could think better of it. 

"Yeah," you replied easily, giving him a little smile. "Been into it for years."

"Me too," he added, and you set down everything you'd been holding. 

"It must be hard to be part of a campaign when you deploy on occasion?" you asked, and Bob was convinced he wouldn't notice if a freight train was about to hit him. 

He nodded and took a step closer, watching you stand up. "It can be, yeah. But I've been in the same campaign for a few years, so I'd like to think I'm an integral enough part of it that everyone else doesn't mind waiting for me."

You laughed. It was so pretty. "I'm sure they don't mind one bit, Lieutenant Floyd."

"You can call me Bob," he blurted out, eyes going wide as you licked your lips and grinned. 

"Okay. Bob."

He could do this. He was already part way there, he thought. Just a little further. "Maybe you and I could get coffee this weekend and talk about our characters?"

When he was met with silence and your softly parted lips, he wanted to disappear. But your expression was trained on his face, and even though you still seemed a little hesitant, you asked, "Like a date? Because I'm free on Sunday."

-------------------------

You were laughing so hard, you had to set your coffee cup down next to your scone, and Bob was basking in the sound of it. "No, Bob! That's why I made my character a Rogue! Because I could never be such a scoundrel in real life!" He just listened to your laughter taper off while he grinned in the middle of the crowded cafe where you only seemed to be focused on him. 

"Well, that's why I made mine a Sorcerer. I don't know if you knew this about me, but I can't actually cast spells."

You started to laugh again. "Could have fooled me." But he must have been looking at you for too long, because you brought your hand up to your lips and asked, "Do I have crumbs on my face or something?"

"No, your face is perfect," he replied without considering his words, but your look of slightly embarrassed delight outweighed the tinge of mortification he felt.

You searched his eyes, seemingly always trying to gauge his sincerity. Then you surprised him when you said, "You're really sweet. It's refreshing." 

Bob looked down at his hands, unsure how to respond but pleased nonetheless. "Will you let me take you to a movie? Or dinner? Or both?"

"Yes."

The following morning at work, you were as focused on Bob as he was on you. The sweaty palms and erratically beating heart were back, only exacerbated by your alluring gaze and the promise of a second date on Thursday night. You agreed to dinner at an Italian restaurant, and Bob was already excited. 

"Why are you acting so strange?" Nat asked at lunchtime. "You're like both weirdly quiet and also talking so much?"

Bob laughed and said, "I went out on a date yesterday." And when he said it was with you, her eyes went wide. "We're going out again on Thursday."

"Bob!" she gasped, and now all of the guys were looking at him, and there was no way he would ever recover from this as Nat told them he got coffee with you.

"Welcome to the big leagues, buddy," Jake drawled, while Bradley glared at him. "Just wish I could figure out why she seems so familiar. Like it's just stuck in the back of my mind somehow. Like I know her."

"None of you know her as well as Bob does," Nat said with a laugh that made him smile. Before you and he parted ways at the coffee shop, you'd squeezed his hand in your smaller one, and it was already one of the sexiest moments of his life.

"Fuck you, Bob," Bradley grumbled. 

But it didn't matter. Bob really liked you and the fact that you talked about your Dungeons & Dragons character for a full hour. And your pretty face and your laugh. And the way you seemed interested in what he had to say. You were checking off all of the boxes for him. Smart, funny, kind of nerdy, interesting. He wondered how many dates he should take you on before asking you to be his girlfriend.

On Wednesday, as soon as Warlock dismissed everyone, you handed Bob a folded up note.

I can't wait for dinner tomorrow night. Here's my number.

He waited until he was home and sitting on his couch before he texted you. Less than a minute later, you responded. And that's how he spent the rest of his night. He didn't even eat until after nine, too wrapped up in what you had to say. Those intrusive thoughts and daydreams and real dreams about you in his apartment were starting to seem like they could be a reality. That's what he wanted. He could already picture you on the couch, wrapped up in the afghan his mom made, watching a movie with him. Or in his kitchen, helping him make dinner. 

He fell asleep on the couch in his uniform, too absorbed in this conversation to even go to bed properly. But that was fine, because suddenly it was Thursday, and not only would he see you all day at work, he'd get to eat with you and learn more about you.

Once again, Bob slid into that front row seat, and you had to work at keeping the smile from your face all morning. When you did look his way, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He was sure he'd pass out if you kissed him, and suddenly that was the only thing he could think about. Warlock talked about aggressive maneuvering, and Bob thought about your lips. Warlock talked about safety protocols, and Bob thought about your lips touching his.

It would be a miracle if he made it through dinner, but he had to try. You stood and started walking out of the classroom at the end of the day, but you turned back and said, "I'll meet you there at 7:30."

Bob offered to pick you up, but you said you'd drive yourself, and now he had more than two hours to kill. He took a long shower and fixed his hair before dressing in the outfit that Nat had pre-approved for him. He made sure his glasses were straight and that he had his credit card. The only other thing he could do was hope the conversation would come as easily for him this time, as it had over coffee.

He shouldn't have been worried about that. What he should have been worried about was the way his heart stopped when you walked through the front doors of the restaurant and directly for him, wearing a pretty blue dress with your face all made up like he was someone to impress. 

"Hi, Bob," you whispered. Then you kissed his cheek at the same time that he started to turn his head, and his lips nudged yours. He stood there shocked as you slipped your hand into his, and you started to tug him toward the waiting table when his name was called. 

His ears didn't stop burning the whole night. His brain kept circling back to the idea of another kiss. An intentional one. A kiss after a second date was not something he'd ever attempted before, but he was going to do it tonight. Based on the way you were looking at him, he had to. 

"Do you want more wine?" you asked, holding up the bottle. 

"Yes, please," he replied, because that would definitely help his cause. 

You smiled as you poured him some. "You have lovely manners." When you set the bottle down, you added, "And really pretty eyes."

Bob counted to three and then said, "I know we didn't even eat dessert yet, but I really like you. And tomorrow is your D&D night, but maybe you'll let me take you to a movie on Saturday?"

After dinner, in the parking lot next to your car, Bob kissed you. Intentionally. The first tilt of his head was hesitant, and when his lips met yours, he started to get nervous and pull away. But you let your fingers tangle in his hair, and you chased him for another kiss. "Which movie are we seeing?" you asked as you rubbed your nose gently along his.

"You can pick," he replied before kissing you again. "I just want to be around you." And then his hands found the small of your back and you inched yourself closer until your chest was touching his and your knee was bumping his leg.

You were smiling when he finally pulled his face away from yours. "I'll text you my address and the movie I want to see."

Bob smiled, too. "And then I'll pick you up, and we can go to the theater."

This was probably the best week of his life. He watched you pull out of the parking lot, and you waved to him through your window after you blew him a kiss. He went home and thought about what he might be able to cook for date number four. Perhaps you'd want to do the movie on Saturday and then have dinner at his place on Sunday? He'd figure it out. Either way, he was excited for more. 

"A third date?" Nat asked on Friday when everyone was taking a break in the classroom. "Damn, Bob." 

He eyed you where you stood talking quietly with Warlock, and you glanced his way, a soft smile on your lips. "I really like her. She's different. In a good way. And she makes me feel comfortable."

Nat rubbed his back in slow circles. "Make sure you put your arm around her during the movie. She might be expecting it. But if she doesn't snuggle against you, then you should remove it."

He nodded and swallowed. "Right. I can do that. Is it too soon to invite her over to my apartment for dinner?"

"I don't think so," she replied softly. "And maybe you should buy some condoms."

Bob's cheeks immediately flushed, but he didn't mind too much, since it was just Nat. "I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

"She seems sweet. Just tell her what you're feeling when the time comes."

Now everything was making Bob a little nervous as he drove through your neighborhood on Saturday night. He passed modern beachfront house after modern beachfront house, and then his GPS told him he had arrived. He saw your car in the driveway, but the house was gorgeous and must be worth a ton of money. Maybe you had a roommate? 

He parked his old truck and headed up the sidewalk with butterflies in his stomach and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You opened the door before he even knocked, and then you were in his arms and invading his senses. "Are those for me?" you asked, kissing his cheek and poking the flowers. 

"Yes," he whispered, silently begging you to let him hold you for a few more seconds while he caught his breath and got himself under control. You turned him on in every way, and he'd never encountered this before. 

Your soft voice next to his ear as you chuckled and said, "Thanks, Bob," was not helping. You led him inside, and your house was incredible. There were no signs of a roommate, but there was a view of the ocean from the windows along the back of the house. He watched you bend in your little dress to find a vase for the flowers, and he felt completely overwhelmed. 

"Ready to go?" you asked, reaching for his hand a minute later. Your eyes were eager and sincere as you gazed up at him. Your fingers were laced with his, and Bob realized if he wanted to get to the next step with you, he needed to get through tonight.

"Yes." He kissed your lips softly, and you leaned against his arm as he walked you out to his truck. 

You spent the drive to the movie theater telling him all about your Friday night playing Dungeons & Dragons, and of course Bob felt more relaxed. He bought the tickets, and you got the popcorn, and when he put his arm around your shoulders, you snuggled against him, so he kept it there. By the end of the movie, the empty popcorn bucket was on the floor, and you had your palm resting on his thigh. 

"Did you like it?" you asked softly while the end credits scrolled. 

"Yes, I liked it," he promised, accepting another of your kisses.

"It's still early. Want to grab a drink somewhere?"

Bob really only knew one place, because he spent an awful lot of his free time there. "Should we hit up the Hard Deck? And then I can take you home and hopefully get another goodnight kiss?"

You had one eyebrow raised as you considered him. "Even after the third date? You're not going to try to make a move?"

Embarrassment flooded his cheeks as he muttered, "Not yet." And then your lips were all over his like he'd answered your questions correctly, even though he felt like his thoughts on the matter were actually probably wrong according to most people.

Eventually the two of you made your way to the bar, but visiting the Hard Deck was a mistake that he didn't see coming. You were tucked perfectly against his side as Bob walked across the parking lot and listened to you tell him how much you liked working for Admiral Bates. Then you ordered two vodka sodas, and Bob had to pluck your credit card from your hand to keep you from paying for them. 

"Hey!" you complained, but he just smiled. 

"I'll give it back later." He was rewarded with another kiss on the cheek, this one very close to his lips. 

"Well, look who's here," Jake drawled obnoxiously over the music from the jukebox and the noise from the crowd. "Bob and his friend."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, but you kept one hand linked with his as the drinks were set down. "Should we say hi to your friends?" you asked, and Bob nodded even though he really wanted to just find a small table on the other side of the room. But Nat looked excited, and the other guys looked annoyed, so Bob thought a short detour might be fun.

"Hey," Bob greeted everyone as you sipped your drink. 

"How was the movie?" Nat asked, elbowing Bradley in the side before he could say anything.

"Pretty good," you replied. "You know, for one of those Academy Award bait films." 

Bob laughed and looked at you. "I liked it a lot, actually." Or maybe he just liked sitting with his arm around you for two hours at a time, but he wasn't going to say that in front of everyone else.

Javy tapped a pool cue on the ground and asked, "Do you like to see a lot of movies?"

You nodded with a bit of an apprehensive look on your face that had Bob just about ready to pull you over to the table that another couple was vacating. "Yeah... I like films," you replied softly. 

And then Jake's jaw dropped open and he slapped the edge of the pool table. "Oh my god!" His green eyes were wide as he looked you up and down from head to toe with a smirk that made Bob want to stand in front of you. "That's why you look so familiar! You're Roxy Luxxe."

"Oh, fuck," Javy said as he dropped the pool cue on Nat's foot, and Bradley choked on his beer. 

But Bob just stood there and watched your posture stiffen and the look of apprehension on your face grow. "Who?" he asked softly, but you wouldn't meet his eyes.

"She's a porn star, Bob!" Jake said a little too loudly as he hooted. "A very memorable one, too. Played up different movie genres. Everyone I Did Last Summer. Sisterhood of the Traveling Sluts. Laid in Manhattan. Some real classics!"

"I retired," you said firmly, holding eye contact with Jake even though your voice sounded strained. "I left the industry five years ago."

"Guys," Nat said with a warning tone as she looked at Bob who was frozen in place, his head swarming with wild thoughts. An adult film star? You? But you worked at Top Gun and played D&D and liked scones. You went on three dates with Bob of all people.

Now Nat was physically moving Javy, Bradley and Jake back toward the game of pool, snapping her fingers at them as they continued to ogle you in your pretty dress. "So..." you whispered, turning toward Bob, looking anywhere but at his face. "That was... yeah..."

He had no idea what to say right now, and the longer he went without saying anything, the worse he felt inside. You used to have a job making adult films? Bob couldn't even handle watching those without blushing and stuttering. You must have had sex with dozens and dozens of different men and probably women too, and Bob suddenly realized he could go home and watch them for himself if he really wanted.

"Right," you said, finally looking at him as your eyes started to fill with tears. "Well... no hard feelings, Bob. I'll see you at work on Monday." Then you set your drink down, covered your mouth with one hand and made a beeline for the door.

Bob looked at the drink in his hand, and then at the one you set down. He left his on the table next to yours and followed you out to the parking lot. He looked around, calling your name and checking to see if you were by his truck, but you didn't respond. You were gone. 

Roxy Luxxe. That name was made up, and he didn't think it suited you as well as your real name. That one was perfect, and he liked it. He liked you. He could drive back to your house, but if you didn't want to talk to him, then what was the point? He'd already embarrassed himself by clamming up. But even worse, he thought he might have embarrassed you. 

"Damn it," he muttered, angry at Jake and all of them for making you feel small, and angry at himself, too. He got in his truck and drove himself home.

----------------------------

Well. You got three perfect dates before it all blew up in your face. Three amazing dates with Bob who was going to look at you like you were no longer worthy of his time now. Sure, you would have told him eventually. After another date or two, you would have brought it up in such a way that perhaps could have been a little bit more flattering or at least slightly tasteful. But of course you should have been expecting this. It wasn't the first time. Getting older only did so much for your face, and it didn't matter how much you changed your hair and makeup: Once Roxy Luxxe, always Roxy Luxxe.

You really thought none of them recognized you. It was almost refreshing that Bob had never heard of your alter ego. He probably never saw a single video of you having sex with Sam Slick or Dickie Divine. He didn't know exactly what your tits looked like, because you'd never taken your shirt off for him in person. He didn't know how you sounded when you faked an orgasm. As you ran down the block and got an Uber, you could hear Bob calling for you.

You weren't ashamed or embarrassed. You were not. This was your life, and you made every decision along the way for yourself. Nobody else. You put yourself through school. You bought the house of your dreams. You had an amazing job at Top Gun now for fuck's sake. But Bob was the first guy you met in a long time who made you think you could have a relationship with someone who wouldn't judge you for your past.

You walked from your Uber into your house and kicked your shoes across the entryway. More tears were filling your eyes, but you didn't want to cry again. Not over this. "But he was sweet," you whispered to your reflection in the hall mirror. His friends were kind of assholes, but he wasn't. Even if he didn't want to be with you now, which was understandable, those three dates were something else. Dungeons & Dragons discussions and coffee and pasta. 

You sighed wistfully at the flowers in your kitchen. Maybe a few more years and you'd look even less like Roxy Luxxe. That might make things easier to navigate. You made yourself a cup of tea and grabbed some crackers and sat out on your back deck where the moonlight reflected off of the ocean. The way Bob had wrapped his arm around you during the movie made it easy to imagine him here with you, keeping you warm. Instead you grabbed a blanket and snuggled in as you thought about how he would have been an excellent boyfriend. 

"You win some, you lose some," you told the night sky. If he was bothered by your past which you had designed so you could have a future, then he wasn't the one for you. You fell asleep outside in your dress, and the rising sun eventually woke you up. When you stretched and stood, the chilly air sent you running inside and toward your shower. 

The memories of last night were hanging out in the periphery of your mind. Going to work tomorrow was going to be awful. If you didn't like Admiral Bates so much, you'd request to work under someone else. But then again, why should you have to go to work feeling bad? Yeah, it was going to sting to see Bob, but it was still your job, and you deserved to be happy. 

You showered and took your time until all of your skin felt fresh and new, and then you threw on some oversized sweats after you moisturized. After breakfast, you could see if one of your friends from D&D was free to hang out. You were finally just about to check your phone to see if Bob had attempted to reach you when you heard a knock at your door. 

Bob's truck was parked in your driveway just behind your car. You could see it through the front window. According to your phone, he tried to call you twice, and he'd send you a handful of texts. But now he was here and knocking again. It was obvious you were home, so you wrenched your front door open and stood before him with your chin held high.

"What do you need?" you asked, already feeling weak at the sight of his pretty blue eyes and his glasses. 

"Hi," he said softly, just staring at you. He looked exhausted, like maybe he hadn't slept. Then he fumbled around in his jeans pocket and pulled out your credit card. "This is yours."

You plucked it from his hand and started to close the door. "Thanks for returning it. I'll see you at work."

Then he said your name. Your real name. "Wait. Please?"

You pressed your lips together. "What do you want, Bob?" 

The soft rise and fall of his solid chest held your attention while he started stuttering. "L-Look. I'm really sorry about last night."

You nodded. "Me too." It wasn't like you wanted to know, but you couldn't stop yourself from asking, "I take it you went home and looked up my videos?"

His eyes went wide as you crossed your arms over your chest. "I didn't."

You actually believed him, but you felt like making yourself hurt anyway. "Your friends have all seen me naked. Watched me getting fucked."

He seemed surprisingly calm as he half shrugged and kind of nodded. "So what?"

As you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, you said, "I'm not ashamed of anything I've ever done, okay? And I would have told you about it after another date or two... before we slept together." When he remained silent you added, "I started out in the adult film industry when I was eighteen. I quit when I was twenty five. I just turned thirty last month, and I guess I was silly for thinking enough time had passed. But last night was a prime example of why I haven't even tried to date anyone. Ever, really."

Bob was gaping at you now. "Not ever? But you're... you're so..."

"I know," you said, cutting him off before he could finish. "I'm hot enough to do porn, but nobody wants to date me." 

You started to close the door again, but he scrambled. "N-No, that's not what I was going to say. I was going to say you're flawless. A-And I shouldn't have let you leave the bar like that last night."

Your fingers loosened on the door, and soon it was drifting away from you, opening wider for Bob as he stood there with an eager expression. God, you just really liked him. And he seemed like he was being sincere. "What would you have done differently last night?" you whispered. 

He started to reach for you before tucking his fingers in his jeans pocket. "I would have taken your hand in mine as soon as I saw tears in your eyes." You bit your lips as he added, "And I would have told you that I like you so much. And if you wanted to leave, then I would have driven you home right away and walked you to your door."

He liked you so much. If there was a chance that Bob could be the kind of guy who still liked you with your past as Roxy Luxxe but also wasn't just trying to get in your pants and meet her for himself, then you wanted to give him a shot. "What would you have done after you walked me to my door?"

He was breathing deeper like he was nervous, and you wanted to touch him. "I would have asked you for that goodnight kiss that I'd been hoping for all day."

You were rushing for his arms, clearly surprising him in the process, but he held onto you as you gave him just the softest kiss. "I would have let you have it." Bob's hands found their way to the most respectful spot on your back, and you kissed him a little deeper. 

As soon as you broke the kiss, his fingers flexed against your back, and he said, "I want to go on another date with you. A bunch more. But I want you to be sure about me. I don't really care about Roxy Luxxe. I'm sure she was lovely, but I like you." You laughed. You couldn't help it. And he smiled as he asked, "Maybe you can think about it today and let me know at work tomorrow?"

"Okay."

He nodded and let out the breath he was holding. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

Your back felt cold where his hands used to be as you watched him walk back to his truck. He waved to you as he pulled out of your driveway, and you waved back with a different feeling in your heart than you had twenty minutes ago.

---------------------------

Bob was disappointed to find he would be in the air on Monday. When he arrived on base, he changed into his flight suit instead of his khaki uniform, wondering what that would mean when it came to seeing you. He'd slept poorly, wondering what your answer would be, hoping you'd say yes to another date.

"Hey, Bob," Jake drawled as Bob zipped up his flight suit. "How was your night with Roxy Luxxe?" He had a devilish smirk on his face, and Bob's skin was crawling. All of the other guys were looking at him now, and he knew his face was beet red. 

"I guess she was as good as she looks on film if she rendered you speechless," Jake added with a laugh. 

"Whoa, no," Javy said, shaking his head at Jake before looking at Bob. "Cut it out, man."

Bob counted to five, took a deep breath and then raised his forearm, and at least Jake had the decency to look panicked. Bradley stepped into the fray as Bob used his arm on Jake's chest to push him back against the lockers. Sure, Jake was more muscular, but Bob was no slouch, and he had a couple inches on him. "Don't call her that again. Don't even talk about her. While you're at it, don't look at her either."

Jake raised one eyebrow and nodded slightly, and Bob released him, walking right out of the locker room and making a quick detour to the classroom. But you weren't there. He ran his hands through his hair before he headed outside to find Nat. 

"Hey, there you are," she said gently. "You okay? After the bar and everything?"

"I'm fine," he replied, still looking around. "Have you seen her?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, pointing behind Bob, and he whirled around in time to see you walk out of the tower with Warlock and Cyclone. You looked as pretty as you always did, and Bob found himself wanting you the same way today as he had last week. All of the daydreams about making breakfast together after holding you in his arms all night were still there. So were the thoughts about you snuggled up, laughing on his couch. But now he could also imagine taking walks on the beach where you lived.

Your gaze met his, and he watched you excuse yourself from the admirals before heading his way. Nat squeezed his bicep, and muttered good luck before making herself scarce, and then Bob was standing there with you a respectable three feet in front of him. 

"Lieutenant Floyd."

He smiled softly. "Good morning."

"So..." you began, looking down at his boots and pressing your lips together. "I'm free on Wednesday night. Or pretty much all day Saturday." Your eyes trailed up his body until you were nervously examining his face. "What did you have in mind for our fourth date?"

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He'd been so apprehensive, afraid you were going to tell him to beat it, he hadn't bothered to come up with an actual date idea. "Cooking dinner at my place?" he blurted out.

You nodded like that sounded good to you. "Wednesday night then?"

He couldn't remember if he already had plans, but if he did, he'd cancel them immediately. "Yes. Wednesday. The day after tomorrow. Wednesday."

Your soft laughter filled him up as you turned and started to walk away, giving him just one word. "Wednesday."

--------------------------

You showed up to Bob's place with just a bottle of wine. He promised to take care of the rest. An hour later, a completely homemade pizza with fresh mozzarella and herbs was baking in the oven, and you had your arms draped around his neck. His lips tasted like the pinot noir the two of you had started drinking while you made the pizza, and his body felt strong and sure. As of right now, you thought you'd made the right choice by coming here.

"I really like you," he whispered for the third time this evening, and you believed him. You liked yourself. Why shouldn't he? 

"I like you, too, Bob." You reached up and adjusted his glasses before letting your fingers trail back through his hair. As his hands slid slowly down to your hips, it was easy to imagine how he might be in bed. Authentic. Meticulous. Earnest. Just like he was at work. The thought thrilled you to no end, but you were also afraid of the way you'd feel afterwards if you rushed it just to get the first one out of your system. So you let him hold you like you were important. 

The timer buzzed, and Bob laughed as you jumped further into his arms. You buried your face against his neck. "It's not funny." But you were laughing, too, and his lips met your hair. "Okay, it's kind of funny."

His stomach was growling, so you slowly pulled yourself free of his arms so he could put on his oven mitts. "Looks good," he remarked, but your gaze was fixed on him. "What do you think, Honey?" 

Bob's eyes went wide as he set the tray down, like he couldn't believe what he'd said. Your heart was absolutely thundering in your chest. "Looks good," you whispered in agreement. You hadn't looked at it. You were sure it was fine. You'd eat anything anyway. But he called you Honey, and you didn't mind it one bit.

You shared the pizza side by side on his couch along with the rest of the bottle of wine, and Bob listened to you tell him about your friends you meet up with on Fridays. And then he told you about his deployment as he finished the last few drops of wine. 

"I never really talk about this with anyone but Nat. This is nice," he said softly.

"Is it lonely?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper as he set down his glass and looked at you. 

You didn't want to rush him, because you could tell what he was going to say was important. And it was. His voice was a little rough as he looked at you and said, "Somehow it's lonelier when I come home. It's worse than being on an aircraft carrier in that I can't really have anything for myself here. There's nothing waiting for me. And a lot of the time, I feel like it would be too much to ask someone to do that. To wait for me. It would be a lot for someone to accept."

When you crawled onto his lap, he didn't stop you. And when you tilted his face up to make him look at you, his cheeks flushed pink, but his hands found your hips again. "I understand exactly how you feel." 

Then you kissed him, and you didn't stop for probably hours or maybe days. It felt that good. When you ended up beneath his warm body, you were so happy he came to your house on Sunday morning with your credit card. "Bob," you whimpered, and that seemed to bring him back from wherever his head was while he kissed his way down your neck and along your chest. His hair was a mess from your fingers, and his lips were a little puffy from the kisses, and you were pretty sure he wouldn't let you down again even if his friends were idiots.

You'd broken the spell, but he didn't seem to mind as he stood and pulled you to your feet. "It's getting late. We have work in the morning. Let me walk you to your car?"

At this rate, you were afraid you'd let him do anything he wanted, because he held your hand the whole way there. And he kissed you just right and told you he'd love to spend part of Saturday with you.

"Come over," you told him, and he promised he would.

----------------------------

It was chilly as Bob watched the sunset over the ocean from your back deck, but his body was warm from the combination of having you and your fleece blanket wrapped around him. You fit perfectly in his arms. Frankly, you seemed to fit pretty perfectly in his life. He wouldn't mind spending all of his Saturdays like this, listening to your gaming recap from the night before while you occasionally kissed the side of his neck. Your fingers were laced with his, and when you asked if he wanted to share a bottle of wine you got when you were in Napa Valley, he responded with a different question. 

"Is there any chance you'd want to be my girlfriend?" You shivered in his arms, so he wrapped you up a little tighter. "I can't stop thinking about you being the one waiting for me to get home from a deployment."

You didn't speak right away which made him apprehensive. He'd somehow been the one to push things too fast. This was something he'd never managed to do before. You tightened your grip on his hand as you said, "Bob... people are going to recognize me. It's going to happen sometimes, no matter what I try to do about it, and I-"

He cut you off with a kiss. "I don't care about that, Honey." Then more kisses. The bottle of wine in your kitchen was left forgotten as you carefully slipped one leg over Bob's lap and sat straddling him. You kept the blanket wrapped snug around both of you, your body nestled against his as your foreheads met. "I just really like you."

The sun had disappeared below the horizon. Everything was pink and purple and dusky and dreamy as your cheek nudged his glasses making him smile. "If you think you can handle being my boyfriend, then I'm not going to try to stop you."

Heart pounding, he asked, "So is that a yes?"

"Yes." Your kisses were slow and soft, and Bob kept chasing the smile on your lips, because he couldn't get enough. With his eyes closed, all he could hear was the ocean below and the soft sounds you made. All he could feel was your body everywhere. You smelled familiar. You tasted good. 

As you ran your fingers through his hair, your other hand trailed down to his shoulder, along his bicep and then across his chest. When Bob dared to let his hands dip from your waist to your hips and butt, you scooted a little bit closer. He realized when your fingers skimmed his abs that he had an erection. 

Embarrassed, he tried to break the kiss and move his hands, but as soon as he started to move, you pulled away first. In the dying light, he could see your wide eyes and the alluring rise and fall of your chest. Part of your lace bra strap was showing, and your nipples were obviously hard. His cock throbbed in his jeans as you asked, "Do you want to stop?"

He knew you could read the desire on his face. When he started to shake his head, you rubbed yourself against his jeans where he was hard for you. "No," he grunted, head tipping back as he panted. "I don't want to stop."

"Good," you whispered next to his ear, lips barely grazing him. "Neither do I." You took his hands in both of yours and brought them back up to your body, encouraging him to touch every curve.

He gasped your name as he watched you slowly rolling your hips against him, seemingly in no hurry as you bit your lip. When he reached for the hem of your shirt, you didn't stop him, and he tossed it aside. Your body looked magical in the twilight, and as he reached for your bra clasp, realization hit him. 

You were used to a certain caliber of partner for these kinds of activities. Standards he probably couldn't meet. "You're hesitating again," you whispered, voice breaking a little bit on the last word. "If you don't think you want to do this with me, I completely understand, Bob."

It was getting difficult to read your expression in the darkness, but when you stopped touching him and pulled your arms to your sides, he started to panic. "It's not that," he promised. "But you've been with... p-professionals. Guys who know what they're... doing." He ran his hands through his own hair. "And I'm not the most experienced. I've only had two partners."

"Oh, Bob," you moaned, and his cock ached at the sound. He wanted you. His whole body was screaming for it, and then he watched as you unhooked your own bra and let it slide down your arms and fall from your fingers. Your body was flawless, back arched, every curve designed to make him crazy. He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a whine as you leaned in closer and kissed him. "You'll be so much better."

Your bare skin was everywhere as the blanket slipped from around you. Bob's hands splayed across your back to keep you warm, but the supple feel of you had him thrusting against your core as he gingerly ran his thumb along the side of your breast. "So much better!" you whispered before pulling his bottom lip between yours.

He was still a little nervous, throbbing against you in his pants like a teenager as he cupped your breast in his rough palm. When you trailed your lips down his neck, he said, "I just want to be good enough for you."

Bob was thankful it was dark and you couldn't see him blushing as you nipped his earlobe and giggled. "Bob. You're better, because you're real. And you're turning me on, because we're not faking anything." You moved your right hand down between your bodies and squeezed his cock through his jeans as you sucked on his neck. "There's nothing fake about this."

He was gasping as he reached for your hand. "Honey." He couldn't take too much more teasing, or at this rate, he'd finish before his pants were off. "Can we go inside?"

You were off his lap and reaching for him with both hands, pulling him to his feet and closer to you. "My bedroom sound good?"

"Yes." 

It was honestly difficult to walk. You led him through the sliding glass door and inside where the soft lighting somehow made your topless body look even more stunning. You brought him down the short hallway to your room, walking backwards and looking up at him with a smirk as you unzipped his jeans. He made another unintelligible noise as he watched the way your breasts swayed and bounced with each movement. 

Your bedside lamp provided the only light, and Bob was still looking around, trying to get his bearings, when you pulled his shirt and undershirt off. "Oh," you gasped, running your palms up his flat stomach to his slightly broader chest. "God." He couldn't fathom that you liked what you saw and felt enough to leave you panting his name, but you definitely were. Then your hand was down the front of his unzipped jeans, and he grinned as you tried your best to wrap your hand around his length, your eyes growing wide. "Bob."

And now he wasn't really nervous, because this actually felt really easy and good with you. You were giving him all the queues that you wanted more. You were kissing him as you stumbled to the bed. You were trying your best to get your hand around his cock, but you couldn't. He picked you up and hauled you up to the pillows, and you squealed. All he could see was your beautiful smile as you kissed him over and over, only pulling away to run your nose along his cheek and whisper his name. 

He watched you shimmy out of your yoga pants and underwear and push them aside, and it was no wonder you were able to make a career out of using your body the way you did. But if most of that was just acting, then he wasn't going to let you down now. He watched as your head tipped back, and you pressed yourself up against his hands when he gently squeezed your breasts. Mesmerized by all of this, he let his hands drift down over your ribs and along your sides until he was met by your hips.

Bob worked his hands slowly back up your body and down again, pausing to press his lips to your breasts as you arched for him again. You felt soft, and you were sensitive, running your bare foot up and down his leg as you whimpered. When he squeezed your hips again, he let his gaze fall below your belly button.

His voice was soft and deep as he asked, "Is it okay if I taste you, Honey?"

You instantly spread your legs a little wider, grabbed him by his hair, and said, "Please."

---------------------------

Bob's hands were huge, with thick veins and graceful, calloused fingers. All he was doing was touching you and kissing you, and you were very fucking worked up. This was already a treat, just being with a guy who wasn't grabbing at you and trying to shove his cock in your mouth. But it was more than that. It was the soft tone he used when he said your name and the way he was looking at you. 

Gentle but strong. That was how you'd describe your newly minted boyfriend. You smiled at him as he stroked his fingers down your sides. You hadn't had a boyfriend in years, and Bob was so sweet and handsome, it was absolutely outrageous. 

"Is it okay if I taste you?"

All of that and he wanted to go down on you? "Please." Your voice was needy, and your body was so ready for him. You eased your thighs further apart so he could see all of you, and you let your fingers tangle in his soft hair. You were so excited, and when the wire rim of his glasses brushed the inside of your thigh, you shivered with pleasure. 

Then his lips met your pussy, and you almost went through the fucking ceiling. Those big hands were at your waist, holding you in place on the bed as he licked up along your slit, slowly tasting every inch before he hummed softly. You wanted to watch, but you could barely lift your head off of the pillow as he licked up again and again before kissing your clit. 

When you managed to prop yourself up on one elbow, you got a great view of his big cock hanging out of his unzipped jeans when he lifted his head away from your body. "Does it feel good?" he asked, and you laughed. He pulled away from you further, concern on his face as you started to reach for him.

Your nails scraped along the day's worth of stubble on his cheek as you sat up and kissed him, tasting yourself. You licked at his lips and chin, cleaning up the wetness before you whispered. "It feels better than good."

A few seconds later, you were on your back again, legs over his shoulders as he ate your pussy with fervor. All of your nerve endings were singing his praises. He had you spread with his rough thumbs, and when he looked up at you, even his nose was wet. Your hands were fisted at your sides while you gently rolled your hips against his mouth and whined at the perfect feel of him. "Shit. Fuck," you gasped. He sucked on you with just the right amount of pressure, and your toes were literally starting to curl. "Bob!" 

All you got in response was another hum of pleasure that made you squeal followed by some seriously lewd, wet sounds. His broad shoulders pushed against the backs of your thighs, and you felt him teasing at your opening with the tip of one finger. Tongue circling your clit, he glanced up at you over his crooked glasses. His cheeks were pink, and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead as you reached for his hair again. "I want you to fuck me."

"Okay," he agreed, nodding his head like he hadn't brought you close with his mouth. He looked a little dazed and pussy drunk, and you thought you could fall in love with that expression on his handsome face. 

"Come here," you whispered, kneeling so you could kiss him. "You taste like me," you added, licking his cheek and chin. "And I love it."

"Honey," he growled, and when you looked down, you could tell he was aching. You pushed him onto his butt and helped him the rest of the way out of his jeans and snug briefs, his thick cock bouncing for you. Then you looked at him there in just his socks and glasses, and your entire body clenched with a need you'd never known before. 

You took his cock in both hands, leaned down and kissed away all of his precum while every muscle in his abs and both legs tensed up. "Holy shit," he gasped. When you tugged on his shoulders, he moved with you, covering your body with his own. His weight and warmth against your bare skin felt essential to your happiness, and when you kissed him, he said, "And you taste like me." 

His cheeks flushed a pretty pink as you ran your tongue along his lips. You couldn't get enough. He shifted his body slightly, and his cock came to rest on your slick clit, making you moan into his mouth. You arched away from him, moving your hips back and forth a few inches at a time, using his body to bring yourself pleasure as you clung to his arms. "God, Bob. You haven't even been inside me yet, and I'm a mess." 

The veins in his neck and forehead were more prominent as he panted, a bead of his sweat rolling down to the tip of his nose. You licked it away as you shifted your hips so he was positioned at your entrance. He was thick, and even though you were soaking wet now, you had to use one hand to help guide him. You shook your head from side to side, your body taking him slowly. He buried his forehead to your neck, and the bite of his glasses against your collar bone kept you grounded. 

"Honey," he moaned, clutching at your hips as he finally, finally bottomed out. You were completely full, already clenching around him softly and enjoying the rough feel of his trimmed hairs against your clit. He thrusted a few times like he couldn't help himself, and you kissed his forehead. "Am I hurting you?"

His neck was a little slick against your fingertips. You'd been fucked too rough or without enough lubrication to the point of it being painful several times before, but this was the exact opposite. "Bob, you feel incredible." He lifted his head and kissed your lips, rewarding you with another thrust. Your legs tangled with his as you pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him harder. 

His lips found their way to your neck and breasts, and his thrusts started coming quicker, but every smooth movement left you gripping at him, your body begging for more as you whimpered and whined. He murmured your name against your skin, sucking on your nipples until you were seeing stars. And each thrust filled you somehow better than the last. And every movement left you grinding your clit up for more. 

You were going to come. You were going to come so hard. You could feel it. The buildup was delicious. Lips and stubble and glasses on your breasts. Hands on your hips. Bob everywhere.

"I'm not wearing a condom. Honey," he panted. "I'm not wearing a condom."

"It's okay," you whined loudly, suddenly gasping and clawing at his shoulders for leverage. "You can come wherever you want."

He chose inside you. And you came, hard and long and loud, hands on his face while you kissed him. You knew he was going to be so much better. You called it from the start. From when he surprised you by asking you out for coffee. He was immediately better than anything else you anticipated for yourself, and even when he fumbled, he recovered. You ran your lips along his cheek and back to his ear and whispered, "You're so much better than faking it."

He rolled both of you onto your sides, facing each other while he was still deep inside you. "Please don't ever do that. Fake it," he said, voice deep and raspy as he ran his rough palm along your cheek. "I want to know I'm good enough for my girlfriend." 

You smiled and tucked your head under his chin, and he wrapped his arm around you. His skin was warm beneath your lips, and his words were soft and gentle. When he climbed out of bed, he asked where he could find a washcloth, and he came back with it a minute later, ready to help you get cleaned up. He even held your robe out for you and waited while you used the bathroom, but you did that quickly, finding you wanted to be right next to him as much as possible.

Bob looked delicious in his briefs and undershirt, and you wrapped your arms around his waist as you asked, "Do you want to go back out under the blanket? With the bottle of wine? We could look at the stars. Listen to the ocean before bed."

He kissed your forehead. "As long as I'm with you."

-------------------------

Six months later...

After eight weeks away, Bob was excited to get home. He really hoped this was the start of his deployments feeling lonelier than the time between them did. Especially since he was going home to you and the house where he moved all of his stuff as soon as you asked him to live with you. He couldn't wait to hold you all night and hear all about your Dungeons & Dragons campaign and ask how you'd been enjoying work.

As soon as the aircraft carrier started docking in San Diego, he was at one of the lower railings along with the other aviators, and he spotted you immediately. You were bouncing around at the front of the crowd shouting his name and waving like a lunatic, and he had missed you so much. "Hey, Honey!" he shouted, and you just jumped higher. 

"Damn, Floyd. That's your girl?" asked one of the guys he'd flown with.

"Yeah," he replied, never taking his eyes off you. "That's my girl."

Six and a half minutes later, he was practically running down the long ramp with his duffle on one shoulder to the spot where you were waiting for him. 

"Bob!" you screeched as he scooped you up in your tiny dress and kissed you until you were as breathless as he was. "I missed you. I love you so much, and I missed you."

"I want to go home, Honey," he said, kissing you again. "Take me home."

"Gladly," you gushed, grabbing his hand and leading him toward his own truck. "I have big plans for your big cock," you announced to everyone around you, and Bob felt his cheeks warm up. "Well, and the rest of you, too. We can make a pizza together and eat out on the deck."

"Anything you want," he promised, tossing his bag in the truck bed and pushing you against the door. "And I love you, too." 

You only let him kiss you for a few seconds, before you were pushing him away. "I know you do. Let's go home." You held his hand on the short ride, and when he pulled in the driveway, you yanked him right out and led him inside the house. 

This felt incredible, knowing you wanted him as badly as he wanted you, running hand in hand to the bedroom. Then you stopped short and turned to face him as he bumped into you with a laugh. "You know how you're kind of your alter ego right now when you're in your uniform? Lieutenant Floyd?"

"Yeah?" he whispered, leaning down to kiss you, but your lips curled into a smile as you backed away.

"Well... I thought you might like to meet my alter ego?" you asked softly, easing that little dress up to your hips and along your torso before pulling it over your head. You were standing there in the tiniest black thong and bra set known to mankind. "Do you want to meet Roxy Luxxe?"

Bob just nodded and reached down to palm himself through his khaki pants as he gaped at you and grunted, "Uh huh." If Roxy was just a playful extension of his girlfriend, then yes, he wanted to meet her. 

You bit your lip and coaxed him toward the bed, running your hands down your body to your hips where you played with your underwear. "Good. Because she wants to meet you, too. And she wants you to know she's only going to be available exclusively for Bob Floyd's enjoyment."

---------------------------

Thanks for reading this long one-shot! I wanted Bob to get to fuck a former pornstar, because nobody deserves such a treat the way Bob does! But then I got attached to them and had to make it special. Bob and the artist formerly known as Roxy Luxxe are adorable together. Thanks to @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger and @sylviebell for your help!

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[buck-star]

Little perv | Stucky

Co-Written with @lanabuckybarnes

// Pairing //

Stepbrother!Bucky Barnes x Stepsister!Reader x BestFriend!Steve Rogers

// Summary //

You didn’t mean to walk into Steve but when you do and he tells your stepbrother about it, they will teach you a lesson how to be a good girl.

// Wordcount //

4.956 Words

// Warnings //

18+, Minors DNI, dubcon, stepcest, smut, threesome, both boys are dicks and cute, they are both huge, fingering (fem!receiving), oral (male!receiving), deep throating, choking, crying during sex, degrading, unprotected p in v, anal play, unprotected anal sex, double penetration, spitting, slapping, praises, pet names (sweetheart, babygirl), aftercare

// Authors Note //

This oneshot is co-written with @lanabuckybarnes, I wanna say thank you bbg, for listening to all the ideas, coming up with your own ideas. And especially for helping me to write it while I freaked out. This wouldn’t be as filthy and it wouldn’t even exist with your help, so thanks for writing this together with me.

// Events //

Build-A-Bucky-Bingo | BABB055 | December | Sensory Play | @buckybarnesevents | LGBTQ+ Bingo | G4 | Bisexual Threesome | @lgbtqbingo | Stucky Bingo: Round 5 | 5089 | B2 | Kink: Double Penetration | @stuckybingo

// Masterlist | Stucky Masterlist //

You groaned as you heard the shower running; your body was aching and you were in dire need of the relaxing feel of the water over your body—low and behold just as you’d grabbed your towels Bucky’s friend Steve had stolen the shower from you.

To say you were irritated was an understatement, you’d been dealing with shit like this ever since your dad’s new girlfriend moved in with her man-child son. Bucky was the quarterback of your college football team, a complete catch for any stupid girl silly enough to believe his charming eyes and wicked tongue, which you found out was quite a lot of girls; almost every weekend he’d hop out to a party and either come home reeking of sex and booze or with a girl clung to his hip, sucking dark marks into his thick neck as his large hands ran over her body— they would barely make it into his bedroom before she was moaning like a pornstar and he was growling like a fucking animal.

You suspected all that fucking booze and constant bashing into other burly men had gotten to his brain because he had a teasing, arrogant, don’t-give-a-fuck attitude that rolled off his body in waves. And by god did he love making you squirm.

The first time it happened you brushed it off, after all, he was probably so used to walking around in only his sweatpants; they hung low, the waistband of his briefs easily visible, accentuating his Adonis belt and soft happy trail that sunk below his pants.

You thought you’d stopped your gawking quick enough but Bucky had caught you—and you were in for it now.

Ever since that day Bucky had been more relaxed in the clothing department when he was around you, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn a shirt around you; his corded muscles rippling under his tanned skin, biceps bigger than your head bulging as he brought his water bottle up to his plush lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped down the cold liquid. He tried his best to bite back the shit-eating grin threatening to plaster over his face as he shuffled by you, tall frame looming over you, your ass rubbing against the front of his sweats ‘accidentally’. After a quick glance your way the smile broke free, you’d stopped stirring your tea, head dipped to hide your reddened face behind your locks of hair but no amount of effort could wipe the mortification you felt and Bucky was loving it.

And now he’d even roped his friend into this absurdity.

Noting that the shower had finally stopped you gathered your towels and other toiletries in your arms and shuffled down the hall, bare feet slapping against the hardwood as you walked. Bucky’s room door lay adjacent, shooting noises and cursing flowing through the crack as he played whatever goddamn game that had him up at 4am most nights.

You were so distracted by Bucky you neglected to knock on the bathroom door to make sure it was well and truly empty.

“Well, what do we have here?” Steve’s cocky voice broke you from your trance, his hair pushed back and a towel hung low on his hips showing off his washboard-like abs; he wasn’t as wide as Bucky but definitely just as built. His blue eyes watched you from the mirror above the sink.

Your mouth gaped and shut like a fish out of water as you stuttered over your words, your brain shutting down at the worst possible time ‘Stupid fucking brain’.

“Never knew Buck's new step sis was such a fucking perv” he turned, hand gripping the waist of his towel as he stalked forward until you stumbled over your own feet, your items falling as you reached out instinctively to grab at something close to you— unfortunately that happened to be Steve’s towel.

“Wow! Tryna strip me now huh?” He chuckled, thick fingers gripping your wrist, his towel remaining in place thanks to his earlier hold.

“No-I” you tried to speak but his stormy eyes shot you down quickly.

“Sureee” he smirked, tongue poking against the inside of his cheek “We’ll see what Bucky has to say about this” he finished and before you could react he’d dragged your body down the hall and into Bucky’s room.

“I—I don’t think Bucky wants to know anything about it. And I— uhm I’m it was an accident to walk into the bathroom while you are still in here,” you mumbled, every thought washed out of your mind.

Steve chuckled, pushing you away from him causing you to stumble through the room until you were standing in the middle of it, facing Bucky with widened eyes and slightly parted lips.

“Didn’t know your sister is such a perv, Buck. Came into the bathroom and when I asked her about it she wanted to take away the towel around my waist,” the blonde-haired man laughed. He walked closer to you, his hands gripping your waist before he pushed you closer to Bucky who was sitting on the bed.

Bucky’s legs were dangling down off the edge of it, he smirked at you with that shitty knowing and arrogant smirk. You blushed softly when he held his hands out for you to grab, when you didn’t take his hands Steve pushed you closer until Bucky was able to grasp at you and pull you closer to him.

“Are you that much of a needy girl?” Bucky cooed, pulling you down until you were seated on his thigh. His thick muscles were pressing perfectly against your throbbing cunt and you couldn’t help yourself, your hips slowly grinding you on his leg. “Oh, you really are a needy little whore, say it, babygirl, tell us that you’re such a horny little bitch for us.”

You whimpered, his thick thigh pressed against your pussy was too much for you to think straight. Bucky laughed darkly, his hands making their way to your waist and he helped you to grind on him.

“Stevie, look how fucking desperate she is, such a fucking whore for us. Say it, babygirl! Say it!” Bucky said in a stern tone. When you still didn’t answer his demands he stopped your movements. You whined, throwing your head back and hitting Steve’s lower stomach. You didn’t even realize he was so close to you but your head was resting against him now. “Fucking say it, bitch.”

“I—“ you cried out when Steve grasped your throat, his fingers were digging into your soft flesh and your eyes widened immediately. He didn’t let go of your throat, his fingers were digging more into your soft skin and you gasped. “I’m a whore for you.”

Both men chuckled, Steve loosened his grip and you inhaled deeply. Bucky still didn’t let you move on his thigh, he was looking up at Steve, nodding towards him and before you could have asked something you were turned around and tossed onto Bucky’s bed.

“Good girl, now ask daddy to let you suck his cock,” the brunette smirked, he was now standing next to Steve, both admiring you shamelessly. It felt a bit like you were nothing but a piece of meat for them, and maybe you were right now.

You didn’t answer him, your eyes just looking at them while you were placed on your back. “Think she wants to be punished, what do you think, Buck?”

A low groan left Bucky’s lips, he placed his hands on the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them slowly down. Your eyes wander over his toned chest and abs to his hands which were going to reveal his hardening cock. Steve was making his way around the bed, one of his hands on his cock, palming himself and feeling himself getting harder underneath the towel.

Bucky pushed his sweatpants down eventually, his boxer briefs following and his cock sprung free. The tip was red, leaking with pre-cum and you whimpered once more. Your mind was too dizzy to care what both men were going to do with you, you just needed them, needing them to help the ache in your pussy.

“Open your mouth and suck daddy’s cock like the fucking little whore you are,” Bucky groaned, walking a step closer. He lowered himself slightly, his hand tapped your cheek lightly and you did as you were told. With a grunt he pushed his cock into your mouth, immediately thrusting forward when the warmth of your mouth surrounded his cock. Bucky couldn’t — he didn’t want to hold back his thrusts, he wanted you to take him completely into your sweet little mouth.

Steve who had settled on the bed, spread your legs apart, he’d taken off your pants already, the only fabric between him and your pussy was the thin sopping material of your panties. Steve ran his fingers up and down your inner thigh, inching closer to your soaked pussy. “Fucking soaked, making a mess in her panties.”

You moaned in response, Bucky’s cock moved in and out of your mouth, causing you to gag around his length. He didn’t care how much you sputtered and pushed his cock deeper into you, tears were streaming over your face and you quietly sobbed when he hit the back of your mouth over and over again.

Steve’s fingers were now circling your pussy, the fabric still covering your wetness but the intensity of his movements made you go crazy. He pinched your clit through your panties and you tried to move away from him but he held you in place. Steve then slipped his fingers under your panties, before deciding it wasn’t good enough and ripping the fabric into two pieces and throwing them away.

Any type of protest was muffled by Bucky’s cock, his pre-cum leaking onto your tongue and you hummed your satisfaction. “Yeah, that’s what you like, huh? Fucking desperate slut needs to be punished for your being so needy.”

Bucky guided his cock in and out of your mouth, loving the way your tears fell down your cheeks while he hit your throat with every push of his cock into your mouth. He groaned, his hand making its way around your throat and he squeezed your soft flesh slightly. Your eyes shot open, terror written in the color when he squeezed more and more.

You wiggled, trying to pull away from him but your stepbrother held you in place. He beamed down at you, then he loosened his grip around your throat and removed his cock, giving you a moment to breathe deeply. With a rough laugh he brought his hand to your jaw, and with a bit of pressure he made you open your mouth. Bucky was then spitting into your mouth, looking at the way you involuntarily swallowed his saliva.

“Fuck, you little bitch. You’re so fucking desperate, swallowing my spit like you’re gonna do with my cum,” he groaned, placing his cock back in your mouth, thrusting harshly and fast in and out of you.

Steve worked one of his fingers into your tight cunt, his fingers were moving between your folds for a while, gathering your arousal. But now he just needed to stretch out so he would be able to fit his huge, veiny cock into you. “You’re so fucking tight. Bucky didn’t know your little stepsis felt like a virgin.”

“Oh don’t worry, she might’ve not fucked a boy yet but I know she fucked herself, haven’t you, babygirl?” Bucky cooed. Steve chuckled, removing his finger before he was pressing his finger against your entrance once again. His thick finger entered you and he immediately pushed another finger into you, causing you to moan loudly — or at least as loud as possible with your stepbrother's cock down your throat. “Have heard you moaning my name like a desperate slut, fucking yourself with your small fingers, not even comparable to my cock, babygirl.”

You moaned around his huge length. Steve curled both of his fingers inside of you, hitting your sweet spot over and over again. The attempt to throw your head back was stopped by the bed and you only arched your back, pressing more against the blonde-haired man’s fingers.

“Don’t you dare to cum you fucking whore,” Bucky growled, his hand back around your throat and squeezing once again. Your eyes rolled back, pleasure growing inside of you especially when you felt Bucky’s cock twitch in your mouth, his balls slapping against your face.

You whined when Steve slipped his fingers out of your tight entrance, pushing one of his digits back into you so he felt you clench around him. “So tight, sweetheart. Can’t wait to fill you with my cock.”

Before you could respond in any way Bucky removed his cock, smirking at Steve like he got the best idea he could ever get into his mind. His tongue was poking out, gliding across his lips when he took a step back and grasped your hair, causing you to hiss. Bucky made you sit up, your front to Steve while your back was towards Bucky.

“Take off your shirt, sweetheart. Let me see your pretty tits, poor things, hidden by your clothes,” Steve mumbled, sitting on his knees in front of you. Your hands shook when you brought them to the hem of your shirt, slowly taking it off and revealing your bare body to the men.

Steve’s hands immediately reached out to place them on top of your breast, squeezing the soft flesh. A low moan escaped his lips the moment he saw your lips parting and a quiet moan leaving your perfect, pink lips. He played with your nipples, twirling them between his fingers until you were nothing but a whimpering and moaning mess.

“Get on your knees, sweetheart. Be a good girl, huh?” You moved a bit, getting on your knees and giving Steve better access between your wet folds. Bucky undresses himself as well, getting on the bed behind you, his big hands caressing your smaller frame.

Bucky and Steve were huge compared to you, and you between them made you feel even smaller. Their hands were roaming over your body, arousal was dripping out of your cunt, slowly wetting your inner thighs. You squirmed slightly, you wanted them to touch you properly, you needed them to fuck you.

“Impatient, babygirl? Do you know that bad girls get punished?” Bucky whispered into your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. He kissed down your neck, biting into your flesh before he licked over it and kissed the spot. “Are you going to be good for us?”

You nodded your head, letting it fall back against Bucky’s shoulder. Steve stroked his cock slowly, his thumb brushed over his plush head and he groaned while he smeared his pre-cum all over his tip and shaft. He then got closer to you, his cock placed in between your legs and he pushed his hips forward. Steve was grinding his length through your folds, your pussy clenched around nothing while his rock-hard cock pressed against your clit and he brushed his cock over it with every movement.

“Doing so good, sweetheart. Do you want my cock?” He asked, grinning at you when you nodded. Your head was still resting against Bucky’s shoulder. Just a moment after you nodded Steve’s hand flew across your face. Your eyes widened and tears built up in them, slowly rolling down your cheeks. Steve’s handprint appeared on your cheek, red and burning. “Shhh— I’m sorry, sweetheart. But you need to use your words.”

Steve mumbled before he pressed his soft, plump lips against your burning cheek. You hissed, but Bucky’s broad body behind you held you in place. To make it up to you, Steve grasped his cock and pushed it slowly into you, his cock stretched you out and you whined.

“Too big, Steve. Please, too big,” you mumbled, shutting your eyes tight. Your hands gripped whatever was close to you, his thick shoulders. Your fingers were digging into his flesh when he bottomed out inside you.

“Doing so good for us. Fuck, you’re right, sweetheart. Could immediately come in your pussy, you’re squeezing me so much already,” the blonde-haired man said, smirking when he looked at you.

Steve gave you a moment to adjust to his size, playing with your nipples. He twirled them between his fingers, squeezed your breasts and sucked softly at your sensitive skin. His cock was resting deep in your pussy, walls clenched violently around him and he needed to focus to not come immediately inside of you.

Meanwhile, Bucky was looking for some lube in his drawer, squirting some of the cold liquid on his fingers. He then placed his fingers on your even tighter hole, smearing the lube around before he pushed one of his digits against your tight muscle ring. You shake your head, not sure if you want him to fuck your ass but when Steve slowly moved his cock you melted into their embrace and let Bucky work his finger into your puckered hole.

Whines and moans were all that left your lips, desperate and needy to be fucked like a slut — exactly what both men did, at least when you were prepared for Bucky’s cock in your ass.

Bucky pushed his digit into you, and you welcomed him immediately, sucking him deeper inside you. A low chuckle left his lips and he looked at his best friend. “Fucking slut is sucking my finger into her ass like she is made to be fucked. Like to be fucked by two men, huh?”

You didn’t answer, too deep into the pleasure both of them gave you. Steve’s cock was twitching in your tight pussy, the feeling of him in you, making you still feel like he would rip you apart and Bucky’s finger moving deeper into your ass before he added another didn’t help your fogged mind.

“B—Bucky, please. N—Need you.” You weren't sure what came over you, your pussy was already hurting with Steve’s cock inside but Bucky would ruin your ass. It would hurt a lot more would he push in especially when you’re not stretched out with his fingers, but the pleasure you felt was just too good to wait for him to work you open for his pretty but huge cock.

“He has to stretch your tight ass before he can push into you, sweetheart. We don’t want you to have too much pain when we fuck you, it’s not just about us, it’s also about you,” Steve told you, his hips slowly moving against yours but just so slightly that you could cry out frustrated. The tip of his head was hitting your sweet spot with every movement and you felt the knot in your belly already tightening but he stopped his movements once again.

Bucky worked three of his fingers into your ass, he scissored them, stretching you out for his cock. And then he pulled them out of you, smirking about the frustrated whine that left your lips. “Needy, aren’t we, babygirl?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling the tip of his cock against your entrance. You wiggled your ass, trying to push against him but Steve grabbed your waist and held you in place.

Bucky grasped the lube once again, this time he squirted it onto his hard cock. Without warning he entered your puckered hole. Your eyes widened, your breath hitched and you felt the pain appear in your ass. This wasn’t quite comfortable, especially not with Steve’s cock pressing against the thin wall between his and Bucky’s cock inside of you.

“No— too—“ you got interrupted by another harsh slap but this time on your ass and Bucky was the one who brought his hand down against your skin.

“It will fit, we will make it fit and you will take us like the good fucking whore you are!” His voice was stern and not even Steve’s soft touches against your breasts and cheek didn’t help against the pain in your ass.

You nodded, letting him slide his dick inside of you. Both men were balls deep inside of you, giving you a moment to take a deep breath. It felt at the same time good and bad, you wanted to get off their cocks but at the same time, you needed them to fuck into you and destroy your holes in the most delicious way possible.

Steve was the first one who pulled out of you before he slammed his cock back into you. Bucky and his best friend were groaning just as loud as you moaned when Steve started to fuck you. Bucky followed his movements, and so you were kneeling between those broad men, two cocks inside of you while they slammed into you with such force.

The pain you felt quickly turned into pleasure and the desperate moans that left your lips showed that. Bucky was kissing along your neck, while Steve couldn’t stop himself any longer — his lips were pressing aggressively against yours but instead of pulling away you kissed him back.

The knot in your lower stomach was growing, their thick veiny cocks inside of you, stimulating your sweet spot and themselves made your mind go dizzy. “Please, please.”

“What do you need, babygirl? Do you want us to stop?” Bucky asked sweetly and you shook your head, lips parted when Steve used the moment to fuck even harder inside of you. The only sound that left your lips was a cry and your eyes rolled back. Bucky laughed, his hand sliding to your neck and he held it in a loose grip.

“Guess she wants us to make her come before we fill her up with our pretty babies,” Steve growled. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. Fucking love that clenching pussy.”

Bucky hummed, agreeing with his best friend. Your walls were clenching around them and both could tell you were just as close as they were. With a harsh thrust from Bucky into your tight ass and a sloppy thrust into your pussy — which was still hitting your sweet spot — you came all over Steve’s cock. You were clenching around them painfully, sucking them even deeper into you while you squeezed them and it caused them to come inside of you.

Bucky’s hot breath hit the sweaty skin of your neck, and his grip around your throat tightens while he pumped his cum into your ass. Steve dug his fingers into your hips, rutting into you, groaning and throwing his head back.

“Fuck, so fucking tight. Take my cum, take my babies,” Steve moaned and you bit your lip when you thought about his words. Your mind was still dizzy and you could feel their heavy breaths on your skin, their sweaty body pressed against yours and their cum slowly dripping out of your holes.

“Taking our cum like a good little slut. Yeah, that’s what you are, our good slut. You look so beautiful when you come,” Bucky grinned and bit your neck slightly. Both were fucking you through your orgasm before they pulled out of you.

They had their hands still on your body, holding you in place while they watched your mixed cum dripping out of you and flowing down. Bucky dipped a finger into the mixture, bringing it to his mouth, and sucking on it before he repeated, only this time he held his finger in front of your mouth.

“Suck it clean, it tastes good. You taste so fucking good baby girl. Especially mixed with our cum,” he chuckled when you let him push his finger into your mouth, you sucked at it, moaning about the salty taste — it was delicious, and sucking Bucky’s finger was just as delicious as the cum.

You were so fucked out; so high on the aura of the room, both boys panting around you, trying to find a sliver of air around the sex-filled space.

“Fuck” Bucky groaned out as he stood from the bed, slightly pushing your form forward until you collapsed onto Steve’s awaiting body.

“There we are sweetheart you did so well, so good for us…took your punishment like a champ baby” Steve cooed, his thick fingers combing through your matted locks, separating the sweaty knots gently.

Bucky watched the pair as they settled against his headboard, smiling softly at just how fucked out you were, a bubbling mess on top of Steve and soaking up his praises like a sponge.

“Mmm Buck” you croaked out, eyes barely cracking open to watch the man as he slid a pair of briefs up over his legs before adjusting himself. His heart clenched at the sound of your raspy voice just barely forming any words, he wanted nothing more than to dive into the bed with you and Steve and snuggle close to you but he was well aware that you needed to be taken care of.

“I’ll be right with you babygirl ok” he squatted down to look at you, a soft smile pulling on his lips and wrinkling the corners of his eyes before he planted a soft kiss along the bridge of your glistening nose and disappeared into the bathroom.

When he returned Steve had pulled you up into his lap, his legs dangling off the bed as he spoke to you about nothing in particular, keeping you awake long enough for them to look after you.

“Come on sweet girl” Steve spoke smiling at the appearance of Bucky “Let’s get you all cleaned up”.

He stood; lifting you like you weighed nothing, a wide palm on your ass while his other cradled your waist making sure you didn’t slip from him, physically and mentally.

The warm sudded water was a welcoming touch, your muscles tensing as your lower body stung lightly but it quickly subsided into a soothing feeling that left your eyelids heavy. A groan sounded from behind you followed by the sloshing of water as someone settled in; his firm arms pulling you close until your back hit his soft chest.

“Still with us babygirl?” Bucky’s breath fanned against your ear as he leaned in close, his plush lips running from behind its shell to the nape of your neck.

You hummed, but the sound wasn’t enough for the boys. Steve leaned over the tub, his index finger curling under your chin and his thumb pulling at your lower lip.

“Come on sweetheart, use those words…you wouldn’t want poor Buck and me to worry all day about hurting you” he murmured, his thumb drifting over the soft pink of your mouth.

“Mm mm, you didn’t hurt me Stevie—just feeling too good and tired” you mustered, your brain still short-circuiting and swirling in that deep subspace.

“That’s ok baby as long as you’re feeling good” He leaned forward, kissing you gently before accepting the bottle of body wash and loofah Bucky held out to him.

“Gonna wash you up, that ok?” The blonde man asked, already squirting a heady amount of the sweet-smelling scent into the sponge.

“Uh huh” You responded meekly, suddenly the thought of Steve touching you all over so intimately had you feeling all shy—something that made Steve’s heart swell as he noticed the soft blush perching over your cheeks.

His hands worked softly, lifting each arm and scrubbing away the sweat and heavy scent of sex from you while Bucky took his time massaging over your hips and thighs, thumbs pushing into the tight knots.

You were almost completely unconscious by the time they’d deemed you clean; the water had gone cold and Steve had scrubbed the same spot on your tummy a thousand times yet none of you wanted to leave the loving coils of the other. Bucky broke first and brought you up with him as he stood, turning you and lifting you out before wrapping you in a huge fluffy towel. He scooped you up again and walked back down the hall to his room, leaving Steve to clean himself and the bathroom up.

“Shit” Bucky cursed, stopping suddenly in the middle of his room. Through all the fussing over you, he’d completely neglected the fact his sheets were covered in your combined juices.

You turned your heavy head to look over your shoulder, a soft chuckle leaving your lips as you realised just what exactly had Bucky grumbling.

“It’s alright we can sleep in my bed” you whispered against his temple, lipsing the spot softly and earning a playful spank in return as he turned on his heel and down to the opposite end of the corridor to your room.

Bucky dried you off quickly, eager to get under the sheets and you in his arms; your soft giggles music to his ears as the fabric ran down your sides and over your breasts.

Finally, Bucky got his wish as he tucked you under your sheets and rounded the bed to the other side, his naked frame curling in beside you, his arm snaking over your waist and pulling your back into his front. Steve joined soon after and slipped into the bed in front of you, his hand running up your arm before cupping your cheek and kissing you softly.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better little girl tonight, can’t wait to do this more” he mumbled against your lips, paying no mind to the fact you’d drifted off to sleep as soon as he’d joined you and Bucky.

“Mhmm” Bucky agreed, blue eyes meeting the stormy colour of his friends “But next time I get her pussy” The growl in Bucky’s voice left no room for argument, but Steve only chuckled.

“Sure man, sure”

// Taglist //

@kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @felicitylemon @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @sebastianstanisahotmf @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Fuck being nice to you

Tags: Nanami x Reader, nsfw, mdni, exhibitionism, cock worshipping

An: I’m thinking about either doing a part two or an alternate ending where Satoru ends up joining in 🤭

“Yn, this is ridiculous- Come out from under there… No, come on. Someone’s going to see you- You want me to…. Yn, darling, that’s too risky. I promise we can do whatever we want as soon as we’re home. Just let me.. Ngh~ fuck.. don’t… don’t look at me like that.. Oh.. my god, where did you learn that..? F-fuck… This is so… irresponsible- You’re going to.. ngh agh! .. pay for this, you little m-minx.”

That’s what Nanami sounded like as you climbed under his desk, begging to taste him while you two were at work. You had successfully undone his belt buckle, and pulled his length out from his boxers and slacks.

Nanami is such a handsome, well put together man. He always smelled so clean with an undertone of his woodsy cologne. He kept himself nicely groomed… everywhere. He wasn’t shaved completely because neither he nor you liked the look. So, he kept his blondish pubic hair trimmed down for you.

His dick was also just… pretty? You always thought that was impossible after your years of being sent unsolicited dick pics by disgusting men, but Nanami?? No, his cock was pretty, long, and cut. Along his shaft, he had one protruding vein that ran up the underside of his dick. His tip was thick and swollen. It was always such a pretty shade of red when you made him hard like this. When you held it in your hands, it was nice and heavy too. You wondered how he managed to walk with that thing.

You had pressed his cock up against your face, and you fluttered your eyes up to look at him while his length was nuzzled against your cheek. It was nearly bigger than your face for fucks sake. Nanami had no business keeping weapon like that on him.

Nanami’s face burned bright red as he told you not to look at him like that. You looked so pretty on your knees below his mahogany wooden desk. All he wanted to do was wreck you, but he tried to force those thoughts aside.

Nanami was a lover in bed. He loved to kiss on you, dote on you, rub on you, make you feel so so good. He cherished and respected your body wholeheartedly. He fucking loves you. But sometimes… on rare occasions, Nanami felt the sick intense need to just ruin you. ravage you. wreck you. use you. fuck you until he’s shooting blanks.

Seeing you look up at him all nice and pretty with his cock so blatantly pressed against your face just sent his brain into overdrive.

He let out small groans as you licked his tip, teasing the very sensitive portions of his length with your tongue. He held one of his hands over his mouth to mask some of his noises. You two were still in his office, and anyone could walk in at anytime. His other hand was grasping the back of your hair, entangling his fingers in your soft locks.

A gasp left his mouth as soon as he felt your plush lips wrap around his girthy length. The wet noises that left your mouth soon following were nothing short of pornstar worthy.

You had this grown ass man moaning, growling, and shaking with your mouth alone as you sucked, licked, and kissed all along his length. You were absolutely sloppy with it too. He was always clean and put together, and you just wanted to defile him.

A mixture of your spit and his precum was gathered at the base of his length from you bobbing your head up and down. Spit trickled down his balls, and you used your hand to cup them.

“You’re so f..fucking good at this..” He groaned lowly as he kept his eyes on you. It was like watching an artist at work. “So fucking perfect… my good girl.” He cooed as he petted your head, still trying to repress the thoughts of making you his fucktoy.

His praise only seemed to make you work harder for him, swallowing and gagging around his length. You would hum and whine from the discomfort, sending vibrations up his cock. Small tears involuntarily dripped down your cheeks.

Gods, he was so fucking torn. On one hand, he wanted to wipe your tears away and tell you to be gentle with yourself. On the other, he wanted to yank your hair and make you take more of him. In his intoxicated state, he ended up doing both.

“Don’t push yourself too hard.” He chided as he forced his length down your throat.

He sounded like an absolute asshole.

If your mouth wasn’t full of cock, you’d probably giggle at his little blunder.

He was close. so fucking close. He could feel his balls tightening as he started to rut his hips upward, making you take more of him in at his pace.

So close. He was right on the edge when his office door opened.

Violence was a necessary part of Nanami’s career. He didn’t ever search it out by picking fights with people. He actually didn’t even enjoy confrontation all too much, but he wanted to fucking kill whoever was daring to interrupt his moment with you.

Nanami’s eye visibly twitch when none other than Satoru Gojo walked into his office. He was not in the mood, and he was all out of patience right now for the white-haired man.

Now, your sweet husband assumed you’d.. you know… pause your sucking while his coworker friend? was in the room. Unfortunately for him, he was unaware of your sick and twisted sense of humor.

“Nanami~” Satoru’s voice drawled in a whine as he dramatically flopped himself over the back of the chair across from Nanami’s desk.

“What is it-“ Nanami’s eyes almost rolled back into his head as you slowly took his length back into your mouth. “-Gojo?” He added as he gripped the sides of his chair tightly. His veiny hand was red, and his knuckles were turning white.

“Someone ate my dessert in the break room.” Satoru dramatically whined again. “Who would do such a thing? I’m wanting to launch an investigation.”

“Are you seriously bothering me about this right now?” Nanami hissed in a more vicious tone than he normally used. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he needed Satoru to just fuck off right now.

You swallowed his length, trying to be semi-quiet about it, but there was some wet noises. Nanami quickly coughed and shifted around in his seat. You were going to pay for this.

“Why are you so grumpy, Nanamin?” Satoru asked, unfazed by Nanami’s harsh tone. He was used to it by now. The white haired male cocked and eyebrow and lazily smirked at your husband. “Wife problems already?” He taunted.

Oh yeah, Nanami had a wife problem alright. His problem was that his wife was on her knees practically begging to be fucked.

“What do you know about-“ Nanami coughed loudly again to prevent from moaning as your tongue swirled around his tip. “- wife problems?”

“Uh… Nanamin, are you okay?” Satoru asked as he tilted his head to the side.

“Yeah.. yeah.. Actually- no, I think I’m falling ill. I think you should g-go now… I don’t want to contaminate you..” You didn’t know your husband could be such a filthy liar, but here he was. His voice was breathy and needy. He was nearly panting in front of his coworker.

“Oh- Oh ew.” Satoru’s face twisted in disgust as he hated getting sick. “Text me if you need anything, Nanamin.” He said as he promptly left the room.

As soon as Gojo was gone, Nanami rolled back in his chair quickly so he could get a good look at you.

“C’mere.” He grunted as he grabbed you by your blouse. He stood up out of his chair, pulling you to your feet.

He spun you, so his chest was against your back, and he carefully tread his hands up your sides, feeling up your curves that your pencil skirt didn’t bother to hide in the slightest.

He then gently tugged your hair back, causing for you to lean your head back into his shoulder with a small yelp. His lips ghosted over your ear. “Did you have fun making me look like a mess in front of Gojo, hm?”

You’re such a brat sometimes. You nod your head and let out a small giggle, remembering Nanami stuttering over his words and shaking while you sucked him off under the desk.

“Yeah? Was it funny?” He asked as his hand pressed to the center of your back, and he bent you over his desk. “You want to act like a whore so badly; I might as well fuck you like one, isn’t that right baby?” He purred into your ear, making your eyes widen. Nanami had never spoken to you like that before in the past. You didn’t even know he was capable of degrading you.

You fucked up.

Nanami curses as he looks at your plush ass against his bare cock. He’s carefully rutting it against your backside while he’s intoxicated by the way his cock looks buried between your clothed cheeks.

“Ken~” You moan as you arch your back up off the desk a bit more.

“Shut up.” He demands lowly. He can’t hear your whiny voice right now while he’s trying to hold whatever sliver of self restraint he has left.

“Mmnnph.. p-please..” Your whimper sends him over the edge.

“Fuck being nice to you.” He growls lowly as he pushes your tight skirt up and over your ass. He marvels at how pretty you look, bent over his desk like this.

Slap!

His hand forcibly connects with your bottom, causing you to jolt forward from surprise. A small whimper escaped your mouth. “T-too loud..”

“You didn’t seem to care earlier when Satoru was in the room. Is it different when he’s the one hearing you slurping?” He taunts lowly, and he gives your ass another firm spank.

“N-no!” You whine out.

“You wanted him to hear you, didn’t you?” Your husband growls as he swats you again.

“No, I-I just wanted t-to make you feel good.” You’re practically searching for friction on his desk. The ache deep inside you feels like torture. You raise your hips again, hoping Nanami will finally just take you.

Your words tug at his heartstrings a bit. Deciding you’ve had enough punishment, he pulls your panties down around your ankles. He carefully presses his fingertips to your warm, wet heat, and he groans from the feeling.

“You’re this wet from sucking me and getting spanked?” God, you’re a national treasure to him. So perfect in every way.

You weakly nod and hum in approval. You try to push back on his fingers, but they were already gone. The sound of clothes shuffling filled the room as Nanami pushed his pants and boxers further down his thighs for easier access.

He looks down at you with a barely noticeable smirk as your displayed so prettily for him over his desk. His wife’s pretty cunt was practically begging to be fucked, and who was he to deny her that pleasure?

A small grunt escapes his mouth as he aligns himself with your dripping entrance. He feels a bit of resistance against his cock that normally isn’t there. He normally preps you a lot more, given that he knows his size can be uncomfortable if not properly prepared.

“Ken.. ngh.. p-prep?” You breathily ask as you drag your hips upward, presenting yourself to him like a bitch in heat.

“No, I want you to feel this, baby.” He lowly coos before burying himself to the hilt deep inside of you. Your fingernails claw at the desk, and tears spring into your eyes involuntarily.

“F-fuck!” You whimper out, trying to hold yourself together.

Nanami lets out a quiet groan from the feeling. You’re squeezing him so perfectly right now. His hands trap you against the desk, and he pulls all the way until just his tip is in before pushing back inside forcefully. He repeats this motion a few times, making you feel every inch of him. You did this to him. You asked for this.

Small whiny gasps and moans fled your mouth. You tried to be quiet. You really did, but it was so hard when he was fucking you so deliciously from behind, making your cunt squelch with each forceful thrust.

“I hope he comes back and sees you like this.” Nanami growls lowly in your ear. “.. sees my pretty wife.. ngh fuck! .. taking my cock so well..”

His words literally have you hypnotized. The thought of someone walking in was frightening yet erotic at the same time.

“I wouldn’t stop either.” He goes on as his hips clap against your ass. “I’d let him watch how I fuck my wife.”

“Ken~” You whine from his vulgar words. You’re practically seeing stars as he hits all the right places. He knows you like the back of his hand. He knows just how you like to be fucked.

As you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, Nanami growls from the look on your face. You look so fucked out and cock drunk already. He can’t hold back anymore.

His grasp on your hips is nearly bruising as he pounds himself into you, not caring about the noise. The desk creaks and scrapes against the ground with each powerful thrust. You try to keep yourself together as he fucks you into oblivion, but your body is nothing but a puddle.

“F-fuck~! Ken, I- .. cumming..” You barely manage to warn him before you’re spasming on his cock. He fucks you through your orgasm until you’re panting and whimpering against his desk. You weakly try to sit up, but his large hand catches your shoulder and forces you back down.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He lowly growls as he resumes his harsh thrusts. Your hands grab at the desk tightly, and your eyes screw shut as your poor cunt is so sensitive.

“Fucking… ah~ fucking take it, slut.” He demands as he rails you from behind. His thrusts are growing erratic and uncoordinated. He’s so close for the second time. He leans down over your back, and he bites down on your shoulder harshly before pumping you full of his cum. Your sloppy hole clenches around him as you find your second orgasm. Something about Nanami taking what’s his just really did it for you.

Slowly, he releases your shoulder from his teeth, and he presses soft kisses into the bite mark. “Are you okay, my love?” His adoring tone his back.

“‘m perfect..” You mumble quietly, on cloud 9 from receiving the best dick of your life.

“That you are, darling. So perfect.” He praises as he trails his kisses up the side of your neck. “I love you so much. You’re such a good wife.” His lips press against your jaw and cheek. “and a good girl too.”

“So, I’m not a slut?” You ask with a small giggle, remembering how he degraded you for the first time earlier.

“You’re my slut.” He quietly corrects with a soft chuckle. He then quietly hisses as he pulls out of you. He watches as some of his cum trickles down your swollen cunt. “So pretty.” He murmurs quietly as he leans into your heat and presses a small kiss to your sensitive folds, making you shiver.

“You’re not going to get any work done at this rate, Nanamin.” You playfully chide as you bite your bottom lip, silently hoping he’ll kiss your cunt again.

“Fuck that work.” He grumbles lowly before pressing another wet kiss against your core as you tremble before him.

He didn’t get any work done that day.

tags: @theuniversesnepobaby @lemonlimecrystal-blog

[sturnioz]

♯┆fully introducing. . . pornstar!chris .ᐟ

pornstar!chris has become a well-known name in the porn industry in a short amount of time — he's hot and he's packing, he has everything going for him.

chris leans back against his chair in his room, his thighs spreading wide apart as he palms his cock through his boxers, his eyes locking onto the camera positioned in front of him — capturing the scene.

a grin plays across his lips, teeth gnawing into his plush bottom lip as he pulls his heavy cock free from the confinements, a sharp intake of breath leaving him as he finally makes contact with his skin.

he begins to touch himself with slow, deliberate strokes, bare chest rising and falling calmly as he swipes his thumb across his tip that glistens with pre cum, spreading it around his cock for lubricant with a soft grunt.

"fuuuck.. feels good." he says for the camera, shifting his gaze from the lens for a moment to stare down at his cock, watching as he pumps himself at a leisurely pace before looking up again.

chris lets out a low moan as his free hand drifts down to cup his balls, his head rolling back in pleasure as beads of sweat forms across his brows, his breathing growing heavier with each stroke and gentle caress — his chest now rising and falling with each ragged exhale as his muscles tense and quiver.

he works his cock faster, pre cum continuing to drool from the tip and glistening between the dim lighting, the lewd, wet noises causing his arousal to build as he thrusts his hips, fucking his hand.

"you watchin' me, baby?" chris speaks to the camera — to his followers — as he pumps faster, arching his back slightly as his eyes roll, a grin spreading across his lips. "look what you're doin' to me... shiiit. strokin' this big, fat cock just f'you, ma."

he grips himself harder, twisting his wrist to apply more pressure, letting out a deep moan that rumbles in his chest as he teases the sensitive underside, thrusting faster into his grip.

"imaginin' your pretty fuckin' mouth wrapped around me... you thinkin' about it too?"

he lets out a soft whimper, his eyelids flutter shut for a moment as his lips form a perfect 'o' shape, rolling his head back again, neck strained as his adams apple bobs with a thick swallow.

when he lifts his head back up, his hair falls messily in front of his dark eyes, staring into the camera lens once again as he fucks his fist with renewed vigour, those wet sounds becoming louder and louder.

"fuck, m'so close.." he drawls, licking his bottom lip. "gonna cum f'you, ma. you ready? s'all f'you..."

chris grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic as he squeezes his eyes shut, tumbling over the edge as his balls seizes up and body trembles, spurts of cum shooting from his cock and painting his stomach and chest in creamy white streaks, panting heavily between whiny moans as his thighs shake.

he continues to spasm through his orgasm, his cock pulsating as the last drops of cum dribbles from his tip and he slumps, catching his breath as a chuckle escapes past his lips, his gaze lingering on the camera, running his clean fingers through his tousled hair.

"hope you enjoyed the show, baby," chris murmurs as he stands from his chair, his spent cock laying heavily between his legs as he reaches for the camera, showing the mess he created up close before pressing a chaste kiss to the glass lens and shutting it off.

© STURNIOZ

[tothosewhoyearnforit]

am i yours or are you mine - chaewon

-im back. might edit this later

-trying to finish my drafts so maybe have hope im posting more.

-2373 words. student-teacher relationship. daddy kink. oral. deepthroat. pussyeating. unprotected sex. breeding? creampie. happy bday chae chae !

Am I yours or are you mine?

Chaewon asked that question right before she was bobbing her head up and down on your length, a mixture of drool and precum trailing, dripping down onto her skirt.

You look at the neatly decorated bed, the work of none other than you. Illegal as it is for a professor to be in a student’s dorm room without any prior permission, any risk is worth fucking Chaewon. It's even riskier considering the fact that her roommate, Yunjin, shares the same room as her, could waltz in at anytime.

But you know she won’t tell. After all, you're dicking her down too. Gosh, her lips, so meant for dick sucking.

You look at the gorgeous slut squatting for you obscenely, her legs spread as she slobbered over your meat, dressed in her school girl outfit, feeding even more to your ill desires.

Was it really her birthday? Or was this “present” for you?

She unsheathes your raging erection, and rests your cock on her right cheek, stroking your length while staring at you.

The sheer size of your cock against her face was feeding into your size kink way too much, it was almost like one of those porno pairings where a burly buff dude fucks the brains out of the tiniest pornstar.

“Aren’t you unusually hard today professor?”

“I- You’re just so hot today Chaewon…”

“It’s the student outfit isn’t it, you sick pervert.”

She chuckles at your stammering.

“Looks like my reward is about to be a big one.”

And with that, she goes back down on your length, this time wrapping your arms around the underside of your thighs and increasing the pace at which she gobbles your length up. The amount of sticky, viscous liquid that's dripping down from her chin secretes at an even greater rate and your mind is practically going wild at the mere sight of your student slutting herself.

“Oh, fuck, Chaewon…”

Toes curling, head thrown back, it’s only been a week since you both last fucked, yet it felt like forever.

“Are you close daddy?”, she asks as she takes your shaft out to take a breath. Her pearly round eyes stare up at you and you realize the innocence you're destroying. She then sucks on your tip for a good few seconds, that tongue of hers being used to lick so accurately at your slit that you feel a prickly sensation rush down to your toes and fingertips. Then, she pushes her head down all the way and hollows her cheeks out, her tongue now making lazy, sloppy movements on the underside of your length. Her hands peel yours off from your awfully tight grip on the bedsheets and place it at the back of her head, gesturing for you to push her head down.

“Fuck, Chaewon, gonna shoot my load so deep down your throat…”

You push her head down till you feel her tiny nose on your pelvis and your balls rest on her chin. She’s so ready to choke on your cock. So ready to accept your load. In her warmth, your cock is throbbing like mad.

“Fuck, fuck, fucking cumming down your throat Chae!”

Her hands tighten their grip on your legs as she braces for your load. And as if saying a prayer, all your lips mumble out are feeble mentions of her name.

One spurt.

After another.

And another, as she slowly removes herself from your cock, her suction never ending.

She opens her mouth while cum is still spurting out of your tip and a splash of the pearly white liquid lands on her cheek. Inside her mouth, a pool of potential kids get sloshed around by her playful tongue before she gulps it down and savors the taste with a resounding “ahh”.

“Thanks for the thick, warm load daddy.”

She uses her finger to swipe the cum on her cheek into your mouth.

“But I’m going to need a rough fucking tonight.”

She peels her thin black thong off and places it in your palm. It's full of moisture and warmth, the naughty student is oh so ready for her private tutoring.

After climbing out of her shirt and skirt, she lies on the bed and spreads her legs and with two fingers, spreads her pussy lips. She’s inviting you in, like a deer on a barren flowery field and you’re the wolf, ready to pounce.

“Come give your favorite student a nice hands on lesson, professod.”

“Such a disobedient student, always teasing the professor.”

You climb onto the bed, and dive your head right between her inviting legs. Her legs instinctively close up on you, like those of a Venus flytrap, but you use your hands and push them away, spreading her legs even further than they were before.

“I just shaved yesterday, just for you, sir.”

“Such a good girl, but a bit of hair isn't against school rules you know…”

You place gentle loving kisses on her inner thigh before running your tongue against her slickening heat.

“I’ve missed my favorite student's top tier pussy so much…”

“Oh, fuck…That’s it daddy. Ravage my pussy.”

Chaewon is just like how you were not too long ago, a whimpering mess, at the mercy of the one giving head.

She tastes so good, a complete diorama of flavors hitting your palate at once. Sweet like a sakura with a hinge of bitterness reminding you how lewd and taboo this very act of eating out your own student is.

You feel the vibrations she sends as her hands are unable to support her anymore as you probe your tongue deeper and deeper into her slick, causing her to lie back onto the hotel bed while her hands find your head, her fingers running through your hair.

Looking up at her, you can see her toned body, her abs, her perky tits, it seems like basketball is doing its magic in keeping her fit. You look at her hard nipples heaving up and down as a result of her heavy breaths and you can't resist bringing your hands up and giving those nubs a pinch.

“Fuck, wait, sir. I’m so sensitive right now.”

She’s moaning more and more now. The walls of the dorm room might not be thick enough, and a professor leaving the student dorms so late at night? Surely someone is going to suspect something.

The next dorm room definitely won't say anything, that's for sure. It belongs to another two of your cock slave students, the Japanese duo of Kazuha and Sakura.

Heck, you’re even banging the milfy dorm keeper, Tiffany.

Maybe to escape, you’d just have to fuck your way out of the dorm building.

You’re probing your tongue even deeper now, sucking on her clit as well. Every drop getting past your lips is so damn addictive that you can't detach yourself for anything other than to inhale.

“Fuck, daddy! I’m gonna fucking-!”

Her back arches further than it ever has, as she climaxes. Her body convulses due to the stimulation she’s received, and instinctively, her legs close around you, thighs squeezing your head shut, the flytrap of Venus herself secreting the sweet substance for the poor fly (you) to be devoured by.

Akin to the fly, you're sucking in all the precious Chaewon juice, her little “ahhs” and tiny aftershocks showing how good of a job you're doing.

“Oh… That felt so good.”

She’s heaving sighs of relief, slowly calming down from her high. But you. You fucking rock hard, as if you didn’t just shoot a pent up load down her throat.

You flip her over to doggy style in a horny hurry and she yelps in surprise.

Running your finger between her pussy lips, you trace your way up to her puckered asshole.

“Since it's your special day, I let you choose which hole gets destroyed first. Your tight little pussy getting a fresh load shot straight into your womb? Or this tight fuckhole that’s sure to leave you unable to sit properly?”

She looks back at you.

Both are new options to her. She hasn't felt a warm load all the way in her womb since you always keep a pack of condoms in your drawer at the staff room. And anal always requires lube which neither of you want to bring around.

“I’m feeling dangerous today, prof. How bout I take the pill tomorrow morning, but you empty all the cum you have into your favorite student pussy?”

“I would love nothing more, my top slut.”

Lining yourself up behind her, you give that perky little butt a cheeky slap.

“Such a cute butt, always teasing me as you walk into class.”

“Is it really teasing if you pound it senselessly afterward?”

Chaewon deprives you of the chance to savor the initial penetration, slowly pressing her hips into your pelvis as your tip parts her folds. Your hands find their way onto each respective ass cheek, holding on for stability as you inch your way into her tight pussy.

“Always so fucking tight and warm for me. Feels exactly like a virgin’s pussy. That’s why you're my favorite cocksleeve.”

“Thank you professor. Kazuha kept saying you liked her pussy more. I found that so hard to believe.”

“In terms of folding her into the lewdest positions possible, nobody is beating her. But your pussy is so tight that you don't need any positions.”

The way her walls of muscles wrap around your cock makes you dreamy as you pick up the pace and thrust your hips even more in her.

“Ah, fuck! So fucking big daddy!”

Soon, your hips are donning a mind of their own, thrusting mercilessly and harshly as the slapping of skin on skin becomes more and more frequent. Your mind is sending messages to your mouth, but all you can make out is “fuck” and “ohh”.

When she looks back at you, she has a face full of bliss and lust, a small indication that you can go faster, destroy her pussy with less hesitation.

It really begs the question again.

Am I yours or are you mine?

You give her right ass cheek another slap. The red hand print becomes more and more prominent, just like how loud her screams are becoming with each slap. There’s no need to worry if she’s feeling hurt or not, because you know for sure that her mind is in a state of only euphoria, drunk on your cock moving in and out of her pussy faster than she can think.

“Such a good slut. Willing to spend her birthday with her perverted professor rather than her friends.”

“Nothing beats your cock daddy. Nothing.”

Those words fuel your engine even more, giving you renewed energy to go faster.

“DADDY!”

She screams ever so obscenely. Anybody studying or sleeping would be sure to be in a state of shock.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum so hard over daddy’s dick.”

You put both her hands together behind her back, handcuffing them with one hand of your own, then pulling her towards you till your face is buried in her neck and you can whisper against her neck.

You can feel the sweat that has collected on your two bodies, a result of your hot, intense lovemaking session.

“Then cum baby girl. Cum as much as you want.”

You make your thrusts as fast as you can possibly go, and the sounds she makes sound like a jackhammer go ham on the ground.

“Yes, daddy, yes, yes, yes, yes. Fuck your slut stupid daddy so you can teach me all again.”

You feel her muscles tense up for that brief moment as she finally cums. Her core is no longer even trying to keep her in that kneeling position. She is squealing, squirting, spraying her slick juices onto the walls and onto your cock as you hold onto her to keep her upright.

But your thrusts never cease, as you can feel the throbbing of your cock once again, a huge climax on the nigh.

“Cum in me please daddy. Shoot your load deep in me daddy.”

You’re so fucking close.

“Think about how you might get your favorite student pregnant, sir. We could become fuck partners for life.”

And that about does it for you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”, you growl, the intensity of your voice matching how hard your hips are thrusting, smacking her butt.

You don't even make it back in fully before the cum starts shooting.

Your thrusts are now timed according to your spurts of cum, Chaewon moaning with each lazy thrust of warm semen that she feels getting pumped to her womb.

“iloveyouiloveyouiloveyoumylittleslutstudent” is all you can muster into the crook of her neck while Chaewon replies with whimpers and heavy pants.

The throbbing finally subsides, and every fiber of your being finally registers how vigorous you have been fucking your student and fatigue kicks in. You let go of your grip on her hands and let her slump on her bed, before you eventually join her.

“Feels so fucking warm daddy…”, she mutters in between heavy breaths.

She sits up as you stay lying down, body completely exhausted. She gets into the same position she did when she first got onto the bed and spreads her pussy lips for you again. The fresh, warm cum that you just deposited, slowly spilling onto the sheets.

Chaewon pushes two fingers into her creampied pussy and scoops some baby batter up and licks it off her fingers, before scooping any spillage and pushing it back into her pussy.

It’s such a lewd sight that you feel your cock twitching back to life.

“You might have just knocked me up, professor.”

She looks briefly at the digital clock on the wall.

“It’s Thursday, meaning I have no lessons tomorrow.”

Climbing over you, facing away from you such that her ass is staring right at you, she spreads her cheeks apart, showing you her asshole clench and release. She looks back and smiles.

“You’ve completed just 2 out of 3 of the lesson module daddy. Time for the final teaching right daddy?”

It’s bout to be a long fucking night.

[evansbby]

𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥✨🎀

Pairing: quarterback!Ari Levinson x naive!Reader

Summary: You have to do what daddy says, no matter how depraved it may be.

Warnings: smutt, dd/lg vibes, daddy kink, phone sex, riding of stuffed animals, dirty talk, Ari being depraved, Ari being a cocky asshole, innocence kink.

“But Ari, I’ve never sent nudes before.”

You bite your lip, moving your phone from one ear to the other. It was 2am, and you’re usually never awake this late. But you’d been working on a paper that was due tomorrow morning, and then Ari had called you.

Which was crazy. You didn’t even know Ari had your number. He was a senior and you were only a freshman and it was insane that he wanted to talk to you! You’d only ever met him once at a party last week, where he’d flirted with you sporadically throughout the night. You didn’t think much of it at the time, since he’d been flirting with a bunch of other girls too.

“Just lift your shirt up and send me a picture, sweetheart.” Ari insists, sounding smug on the other end of the line. “Maybe play with your tits a bit? Fuck, you have such nice tits.”

“Y-You think so?”

“Yeah, baby. I can’t stop staring at them whenever I see you in person.”

“Oh. Thanks!” You know you shouldn’t be happy with such a shallow compliment, but the fact that he’s interested in you is giving you butterflies. He was older than you, and he was the captain of the football team and the most popular guy on campus. You were, of course, none of those things.

“Well? Don’t keep me waiting.” There’s a slight edge to his tone.

You inhale deeply, opening your camera and lifting your top up. You’re not wearing a bra and your nipples are already hard from Ari’s smooth-talking and his gravelly voice. You snap a quick picture before sending it to him.

A pause.

“Fuck, you are so hot.”

“Thank you!” You glow at the praise. But then your eye catches the clock on your nightstand, “ooh, Ari, it’s getting late! I need to sleep now.”

“No.” Ari commands. “Let’s talk on FaceTime.”

“But I’m only in my PJs!” (They were babyish pyjamas too, nothing sexy at all.)

He ignores you, cutting the call and then calling you again through FaceTime. You accept it, gasping because he was shirtless on his bed. You’d never seen him shirtless before! His chest and torso were so muscular and hairy—but it made him look so manly that you couldn’t help but feel sparks run down your spine.

“Cute PJs.” He snorts.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything sexier.”

“Don’t worry, baby. But maybe you should just take your top off completely, hm?”

“Oh, uh… I don’t know about that, Ari.”

“I’m not wearing a shirt, am I? So it’s only fair if you don’t wear one either.” He gives you a charming smile and you feel your insides turn to goo. Oh, you had the biggest crush on him! You can already feel every cell in your body itching to do exactly what he’s asked you to.

You shrug your top off, trying only to focus on Ari and how his eyes widen, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. He licks his lips and runs a hand through his unruly brown hair. His other hand is out of frame, and you can’t see what he’s doing with it.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn sexy, baby, showing off your hot, tight little body to me, huh?”

“I—I…uh… y-yeah, I guess—”

“Move up and down for me a bit, I wanna see your tits bounce. Mm, just like that, sweetie. Fuck, you love listening to me, don’t you?”

You watch in awe as he spits down into the palm of his hand, and now you can guess what his hand is doing and it makes your eyes widen but your core pulses with lust too.

“Look how hard your nipples are, baby. Touch ‘em for me. Play with them like a little slut, like how all the pornstars and slutty cam-girls do it. Like you’re being paid to do it, fuck! Goddamn, you’re so hot.”

He pans his camera downwards for a split second, and you gasp when you see his huge cock in his hand. He’s pumping it steadily, and it looks so big and fat and red and—

“B-But Ari, I’ve never watched porn before so I don’t know how a pornstar does it.” You blurt out.

A pause.

“Mm, you’re a real good girl aren’t you?” Ari chuckles breathlessly, running a hand through his hair again. He’s still pumping his dick, but more leisurely now, like a wolf who knows he has all night to play with his prey.

You shrug awkwardly, “I guess I am.”

“So tell me, how does a good girl like you like to be fucked?”

“Wh-What?!”

Ari snorts, “C’mon, sweetheart. You and I both know I’m gonna fuck you real soon. So I need to know how you like it. All sweet and slow? Because I can do that shit. Or are you a real freak in the sheets, and want me to shove your face against a pillow and take you hard and fast on your hands and knees?”

Your mouth drops open, and you suddenly feel so shy because how is he talking about such graphic things so easily???

“Mm, you like the sound of that second option huh?” Ari says, and now he sounds slightly breathless. His face is shiny with a layer of sheen, and his hair is falling over his face as he pumps his dick and his eyes look all over your topless form like he’s ravenous. “The innocent ones are always the freaky ones.”

“I’m not freaky!”

“So you don’t want me to fuck you doggy style with my hand round your throat like you’re wearing a goddamn collar, huh baby?” His voice sounds rough, gravelly, so infinitely turned on. And it’s crazy how quickly he switches back and forth from that to his casual, charming tone.

“Bet your little baby pussy is clenching right now, isn’t it baby? And I bet you’ve made a mess all over your bed because you’re so turned on.”

You glance down guiltily, hating how he’s right. There’s a huge wet stain on your sheets underneath you. You hadn’t realised just how wet you were because of all this. You bow your head and Ari smirks knowingly.

“Virgins get the wettest. And you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

Your eyes widen even more and you nod. Fuck, fuck, fuck, how did he know?!

“That’s what I thought.” Ari lets out a low groan, jacking off even faster. “Now listen, I want you to practice for when I fuck you.”

“Practice?”

“Yes, baby. I need to teach you so many things. But first tell me, do you have a stuffed animal in your room?”

Your face lights up, “Sure I do! This is Fluffy!” You grab your stuffed lamb and wave it in front of your camera.

“Give Fluffy a kiss.” Ari orders you darkly, his tone switching to more serious.

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Give your toy a kiss.” His normally blue eyes are now almost black, his pupils are so blown out with lust. And his order is kind of weird but you feel your pussy clench and leak some more, and you know you’re turned on by how authoritative he’s being.

You obey, pecking the stuffed lamb quickly. You feel embarrassed but you’re also feeling extremely submissive. And obeying him is turning you on so much.

“Not like that, baby. Make out with Fluffy properly. Like you would if it was me.” Ari says, and you look at him in shock only to see him smirking lazily back at you. His dick is throbbing against his hairy abs and he’s once again lazily stroking himself as he watches you intently. “Use your tongue.”

It’s by far the weirdest thing you’ve ever done. You scrunch your eyes shut and try to imagine your stuffie is Ari. And it’s not like you haven’t done it before — because you’ve practiced kissing on your stuffies in the past. But never in front of an audience, let alone a ravenous looking jock who’s jacking off while watching your every move intently.

“Mm, just like that. You like kissing Fluffy, huh?” He asks you darkly, and you can hear the steady thwapping sound of him pumping his dick.

“Uh. Not really, it’s kind of wei—”

“Use your tongue more,” he cuts you off, “get your little toy nice and wet, baby. Mm, just like that. Daddy loves it when you do it like that.”

You gape at him, “d-daddy?”

Ari smirks, “yeah. That’s what you’re gonna call me from now on. Got it?”

You gulp, “I didn’t know that was a thing.”

He licks his lips, “of course you didn’t know, you’re just a baby. But guys love it when girls call them daddy. It just means I’m in charge of you and that I’ll take care of you. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

You mull over his words. That did sound nice, and the idea of calling him daddy was kinda making you feel all hot and bothered down there…

“Try it.” Ari suggests, “Say that you’re just a little baby who needs her daddy to tell her what to do.”

You bite your lip, “uh—okay. I-I’m just a little baby and I need my… my daddy to tell me what to do.” You pause and beam, looking at him through your phone screen proudly, “how was that?”

He nods approvingly, “you’re a natural, baby. Now why don’t you put Fluffy between your legs so he can kiss your other lips?”

Your jaw drops, and yet you feel yourself clench at his words, “What??”

“Come on, sweetheart. Do it for daddy. I’m not here to give you your special kissies down there, which means Fluffy has to do it, right?”

“Special k-kissies?”

“That’s right. Little baby girls like you need their special kissies or else you’ll disappoint your daddy.”

You glance down at your pyjama shorts which are soaking wet. Despite you feeling awkward, you also felt immensely turned on by each word that came out of his mouth. How he was ordering you to do these depraved things… How he was talking to you all condescendingly like you were a baby… Oh, you didn’t want to disappoint him!

Slowly, you spread your legs and press Fluffy down against your clothed mound. You make sure to pan your phone downwards so Ari can see, and he groans appreciatively. His thumb strokes the head of his dick before he moves his hand up and down, now leisurely stroking himself as if he wants to savour these next few moments.

“That’s right, hump your sexy little baby pussy against your toy. Doesn’t that feel so sexy, baby?”

You nod, “feels good, Ari—I mean daddy. It feels good.”

“Damn right it does, daddy always knows what’s best for my little baby.” He runs his hand through his already dishevelled hair. His cheeks are flushed and he’s got a dark, determined look on his face as he continues to jack off, his eyes glued on you.

“Ride your little stuffie just like that,” he murmurs, “get that pretty baby pussy all wet and slippery and worked up, ready for my daddy dick. How’s that sound, princess? You ready for daddy’s dick?”

You bite your lip again, this time in pleasure as you continue to rub your pussy against the stuffie, “I think so. But you’re so big…”

That makes him smile, and he pans his camera down again to show you his fat, angry red cock. He’s got a huge vein running down it, and you get the sudden urge to lick it. God, he was so big! And thick too! You feel giddy and scared at the thought that he might actually be your first…

“H-How many girls have you slept with, daddy?” you ask shyly.

“Only a few,” he snorts, his tone vague before the glint in his eye returns. “I think I’ll only be able to fit my big dick halfway through your tiny snatch.” He says, “What do you think, baby?”

You nod, “I agree, you’re—uh— super big, daddy.”

“Mmhm, but you’d love it even more if I held you down and forced my fat cock inside your baby cunt till I’m all the way in, so deep you can feel me in your fucking womb, wouldn’t you?” he lets out a string of curse words as he pumps himself, “Tell me you’d like that.”

“I would!” You cry, feeling like you’re so, so close to cumming, “d-daddy, I—”

“Shhh, baby girl. Daddy knows,” Ari’s watching you like a hawk as your movements grow more and more desperate, your hips rutting against your poor stuffed lamb. “Put your phone up against your pillow or something, so I can watch you ride your toy properly.”

You do as he asks, no questions asked. And it’s times like this where you feel extremely lucky that you don’t have a roommate. And you hope Ari doesn’t either.

“Yeah, just like that. Get your toy all wet, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re so sexy,” Ari spits down on his palm before resuming to pump his cock, “bet you wish it was daddy underneath you like that, don’t you? Bet you wish I was eating your cunt just like that.”

You fist the sheets, trying not to look at your stuffie as you straddle it, humping it like a wanton whore.

“Yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” A few strands of his brown hair flip over his forehead, and he pushes them back impatiently, “Riding your daddy’s tongue, rubbing your baby cunt all over my face while you hold your little stuffed animal and cry like a baby ‘cause it’s too much for a little girl like you to handle.”

“Oh, I’d really like that!” you cry out, the pleasure within you mounting as you continue to breathlessly rub against your stuffie. You don’t even know what you’re saying anymore, but he’s painting such a vivid, hot picture with his words that you can’t help but agree. “W-Wanna ride you so bad, daddy. Would be so much – ah! – so much better than Fluffy!”

Ari smirks, “Damn right, it would. And tell me how you’d dress up for me, baby.”

“Would wear anything you want me to!”

“Yeah? What about a pretty pink princess dress? You’d wear that for daddy?”

“Y-Yeah!”

“A cute and flouncy one, where your cute little ass pokes out every time you bend over in it,” he grunts, leaning forward as his pumping gets faster, “Your bare ass just begging for a hard slap – fuck! Tell me you’d like that!”

“I’d love it!” you agree quickly, your whole body on fire just from his words. But then, despite everything, a thought occurs to you, “B-But, daddy. I don’t have a flouncy pink dress like that.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll buy you one.” Ari promises. “But first, you need to take your shorts off for me.”

You don’t even object this time. The fabric of your pyjama shorts is all wet and sticky against your pussy, so you quickly discard them before resuming what you’re doing. And you can’t help but throw your head back and moan embarrassingly loudly, because the stuffie’s fur catching against your bare clit feels heavenly. You circle your hips against Fluffy with renowned vigour, all while Ari watches you closely with carnal eyes.

“Show me your ass,” he orders you softly, and yet there’s a note of authority in his tone, “show daddy your cute little baby ass, sweetheart.”

You grab your phone, scrunching your eyes shut as you twist awkwardly, pointing it to your ass. But your heart skips a beat when Ari groans in appreciation.

“Fuck, you’ve got such a cute little butt, princess,” Ari murmurs, his gaze on you intense. “I bet it jiggles all cutely when you slap it, huh?”

“I – ah! – I dunno…”

His dark eyes flash, “Slap your ass for me, princess.”

Oh gosh, how embarrassing! You hesitate, “I…I…”

“Do it. Do what daddy tells you,” Ari runs his tongue over his lips, “I’m in charge and I know what’s best for you, sweetheart. Don’t disappoint me. Spank your little baby ass for daddy.”

You do as he asks, so completely under his control that you just can’t think straight. All you want to do is chase your own pleasure as you continue to ride your stuffed animal, and listen to the dirty talk coming out of Ari’s mouth. You gingerly slap your ass lightly, and Ari moans in appreciation before ordering you to do it harder. You comply once more, you’re so close to orgasming that you don’t even think twice.

“Yeah, fuck. Just like that, baby. God, I wish I could spank that cute ass of yours myself. Next time I see you at a party, I’m bending you over my lap in front of everyone. You’d let me do that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes!” You’d have agreed to anything at this point.

“Damn right. And I’d flip your skirt over and spank your bare ass in front of all my fucking friends, because you’re my property and I can do that, can’t I?”

“Y-Yes! Ari, I’m so close!”

“Oh yeah, baby? Cum then. I’m not stopping you.”

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, and you don’t stop moving your hips, imagining your riding his thick cock as you cry out in pleasure. And you can hear Ari talking you through it, calling you his good little girl, telling you that daddy’s so proud of you, that you’re doing so well, that you’re so good at following instructions. And fuck, you’ve never been this wet before, and you’ve never cum this hard before. It takes you a good few minutes to recover, limbs shaking and your core so sensitive.

Once you finally regain your senses, you peer shyly at your phone once more to see Ari throwing away a wad of tissues.

“D-Did you…?”

He snorts, “After that show you just put on? Of course I did.”

Heat rushes to your face, a part of you disappointed that you missed out on watching him orgasm because you were too wrapped up in your own pleasure. “Oh. Wow, okay.”

Ari grins, “Look at you, all shy all of a sudden. Cat got your tongue, baby?”

You purse your lips and stick your chin out defiantly at him, “No! Just… Tired is all.”

Ari nods thoughtfully, “Tired, huh? So then I shouldn’t come over tonight?”

Tonight? But it was so late! And yet your pussy thrums at the thought.

“Y-You wanna come over?” You breathe.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I gotta touch you in person, otherwise I won’t be able to sleep the whole night.” He flashes you a cocky smile, and you watch in awe as he zips his jeans and pulls a shirt over his head. You can’t help but bite your lip. God, he was the most attractive, hottest guy you’d ever seen in your life!

“So, you gonna text me your address, or what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

So like… when I get horny, I tend to write things like this. ANYWAYS, lemme know what you think! Love you guys! This was sitting in my drafts for ages and finally I decided to finish it! 🩷🩷🩷

[1800titz]

HI. This is the pornstar!AU (Tiger Harry). Enjoy :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: face-fucking, anal play-ish, Sir kink, general manhandling, light dom-sub dynamics

WC: 8.6K

“Are you open to raw anal?” is probably not a statement Y/N had …entirely expected to hear when she’d agreed to discourse over pastries and dirty chai lattes. 

It’s a pretty good one, all things considered, and asked with complete professionalism, according to their careers and the open, apathetically businesslike expression shaping the features of her counterpart. Y/N takes a sip of her latte. It is quite a good latte. He wasn’t wrong there. 

Harry blinks. 

It’s very on brand, despite the way she’s sure one of the baristas has definitely twisted around from the dishpit, side eye discreet …but there. And in the barista’s defense, she couldn’t even blame her for eavesdropping on the sordid contents of their public discourse. Y/N isn’t going to turn around and look. 

In Harry’s, he didn’t exactly shout. 

The man across from her takes a slow sip from his latte. Good latte, very good latte. 

She can’t help but admire his varying assortment of rings as he cradles the cup, irises winding from the blocky, golden S to its chunky counterpart, the H. So many times she’d admired those hands, those ring-clad fingers traipsing over bare skin, just the tips meddling over abdomens and winding circles around navels. Those digits sunk into the hair of his partner, tangled into the roots as he manually bobs her head over his cock. Those fingers twisting over the pink tip of his shaft, lining it up before his hips pump. Those long fingers splaying over cunts, swiping a thumb to ogle in front of the camera. 

There've been so many instances where Y/N had wondered the significance of that H and that S. And it’s been really quite simple all along.

Should I call you Tiger in person, then? she’d tapped out over the LED keyboard, days prior when they’d only been discussing the prospect of a meet up. Days prior, before she’d flown out for an on-camera collaboration, to bask in the sunlight of California, to enjoy overpriced dirty chai lattes and oddly promiscuous dialogue in the corner of a cafe. 

I think I’ll just take Harry when the cameras aren’t rolling x, RideTheTiger had messaged back. 

Anyways, it’d probably be a sleazy, poorly-executed one liner (and consequently, a horrifically red flag) in possibly every other circumstance, but this isn’t a first date and RideTheTiger has, thus far, been the furthest thing from sleazy. Even paid for her dirty chai latte, practically shouldering her out of the slot at the register. Pulled her chair out for her, asked about her traveling fares prior to delving into said anal topic. It’s all been fairly gentlemanly. Very business-partner-coffee-meeting. 

“No condom,” Harry tacks on, like it’s clarification for the raw segment of raw anal, as if it actually needed some sort of clarification. 

Y/N takes another sip. Damn good latte. 

“I like it,” the young woman tells him, clearing her throat on this edge that implies she’s mindful of her volume. Somehow, even as a freelance pornstar, she still hasn’t quite managed to get over the awkward degree of shame that a public setting incites. “I like the...” 

That barista is definitely fucking peering over.

“…The mess,” she settles on, because anal creampie doesn’t feel like a term to be said with her whole chest over a guava pastelito. 

For a short moment, Harry just watches her, jade roaming and the corners of his mouth slowing seeping into a simper, like he knows brazenly discussing anal creampies in the middle of a cafe — not quite packed, but still a cafe — has her kind of squirming in her seat. He takes another drink. 

“She’s got airpods in,” the man tells her eventually, forest-y irises jolting to something behind her head — the barista that’s clattering about behind the counter. And if she’s listening in, she’s probably going to go home and find one of them online, or ultimately both, and probably subscribe. 

The tension in her shoulders melts away the longer he grins at her over the lip of his lid, dimples indented in the flesh beside the upturned edges of his mouth. It’s just what they do for a living. It’s just sex. It’s just talking about the sex they’re going to have on camera. 

There’s bells and whistles to it, too, but it beats sitting at home and answering phone calls where angry customers screech all tinny through the headset and don’t comprehend the words, “Sir, if you can’t use your inside voice and talk to me like a civilized human being, I’m not going to be able to resolve your issue.” For Y/N it is. At least she gets a couple of orgasms out of this. 

“Sorry,” she tells him, shoulders slumping, “I think I’m still not— I get …weird talking about it in public settings.”

Tiger gives her this careful look over, eyes amused. 

“S’okay, I understand. If you’d rather get into the details back at mine, I’m okay with that.” 

“No, no,” Y/N protests, motioning out with her free hand, almost like her frigidly humiliated disposition will turn him off from collaboration, “No. It’s just, like. Sex work— it’s— it’s 2024. Nothing to be ashamed of.” 

Harry blinks. He gives her another one of those slow, knowing grins with his strawberry mouth. 

“No, seriously. We can get into the …rough drafting in a more private setting.” And then he takes another casual, horribly nonchalant sip, “I get it.” 

The man splays back against the chair, the hand not clutching at his beverage laid against smooth bamboo varnish, the nails there neatly manicured and painted with a soft shade of green lacquer. Y/N wonders what that particular color would look like with a glimmering top coat after he’s sunk the digits in between her thighs. She casts her gaze back up to his face. 

“I just figured I’d ask because we exchanged tests last week.” 

Clean as a whistle, RideTheTiger, (appropriately renamed in her contacts as Harry Tiger OF collab), had messaged on a Tuesday afternoon. That text was tailed with an HDR attachment of paperwork detailing his clean-as-a-whistle results, for proof. And the polish on his nails, fingertips gripped over the edge of the sheet, had been a pretty sky blue in the picture. 

She’d wondered the same thing, then; what OPI’s Rich Girls & Po-boys would look like glazed with a sheen of her slick arousal. 

He’s just a fuckable man, Y/N thinks, sat back in his chair like discussing sex work scene scripting is a normal mid-day affair, soft dusting of stubble coating his jaw, curls swept up off his forehead. His white tee shrouds the swallows and the inky butterfly she’s seen flexing over his tummy, the laurels that seep into the deep cut of his v-line, but it does very, very little to hide the artistry that litters his arm. 

That same arm she’d seen in videos, wrapped in pumped muscle as his fingers had worked his partner to the brink of bliss at a merciless pace, plush mouth shaping over some sort of filthy croon, dimples indented. Those same hands cradling over his counterpart’s throat with a gentle squeeze, that same thumb swiping messily over his partner’s bottom lip. Those same eyebrows with a crease carved between their furrow, those same curls in sweaty, disheveled disarray from the incessant rake through of his hands as his cock got swallowed up by a pretty, swarthy-skinned brunette, or maybe a blonde. A curl that’d flopped over his forehead in those videos, hardly hiding a rivulet of sweat that’d dripped from his hairline, is neatly tucked back under designer shades, now. 

Designer shades he’s bought with his dirty porn money, because despite his spiffy, clean boy, seemingly innocuous demeanor, RideTheTiger is dirty, dirty, dirty. 

Because under his warm smiles and his twinkling jade, there’s an alter ego that lives on the internet. One she’s all too familiar with. 

It makes her chest sort of flush under her sweater. This is happening. This is going to happen. 

The chair creaks a little when he sits up, clearing his throat, “I didn’t want to assume, but. I mean— I’m sure you’ve seen, like, my tips. Is it …odd to say I’m a fan of your content?” his gaze slowly settles from his drink to her face, smooth baritone almost …bashful as plush pink splits into a beam and his words catch on a laugh, “Is that …weird?”

Y/N knows exactly what he’s referring to. They’d been two mutuals subscribed to one another, chunks of profit migrating from inbox to inbox. It’d been like a volley, electric currency bouncing through the expanse of the internet, racket to racket, account back to account, pinging notifications striking on uploads behind paywalls. Only then, Tiger was just a man behind a screen. Tiger wasn’t sitting at a table in front of her, and they weren’t discussing the crude elements of the video they were going to shoot together. 

“Not at all,” Y/N clears her throat and pairs it with a side-to-side shake of her head. 

She’ll never admit that she’d touched herself to the solo session that’d popped up in her DM’s behind a paywall only last week, an automated promotion sent out to all subscribers. The one where he’d been sat in one of those lush, swivel-y chairs in front of his computer, firm thighs splayed and ringed hand tugging over his leaky cock. The camera angle was broad enough to capture his eye contact with the lens, the way his front teeth would nip at his bottom lip, the way the column of his straining throat would go on show as he’d tipped his head back with a groan. 

She blinks, staring ahead as she remembers the way cum had painted all the way up over the panting butterfly. Harry grins from across the table. She half-expects him to brazenly admit he’s done the same to her content. So far, she’s concluded that he’s quite unashamed. 

“Makes it easier to fuck, right?” Y/N says, beating him to the punchline. 

He makes this face then, tipping his head, eyes widening and blinking playfully, mouth curling like he’s appalled by her brazen admission in said public setting. Before the young woman can get flustered by his teasing, he sits back and lets his features relax into something soft.

“Yeah. It does.” 

Harry doesn’t tell Y/N she should wear a plug on the day that they calendar in for shooting. Not while they’re in the cafe. In fact, he waits three whole hours until the very precise moment where she’s using her apple pay at a drive through for the notification banner to swipe down. 

When Y/N steps into his entryway, there’s a wilting cactus stemming from a ceramic basin next to a bowl of keys and varying knick knacks. There’s a pair of dice in there, too. 

“This is Tim,” Harry introduces, unprompted, motioning to the withering plant in passing. 

Y/N nudges with her chin like a sort of acknowledgement, tailing him through the hallway, where a neat array of three framed, abstractly artistic renditions of Kama Sutra positions line the segue. She’s half convinced that the doggy one follows her movement like one of those oddly unsettling renaissance portraits. 

“Very nice.”

It’s a Thursday, and they’ve determined today to be the day that they collaborate. She’s wearing the plug, and she tries to ignore the anticipation curdling in the pits of her tummy as she tails him to the lounge. 

“I think I overwatered him, honestly,” Harry tells her, aimed over his shoulder, “but I can’t bear to part with him.” 

He’s wearing gray sweats, and he’s definitely opted to go commando, if the imprint of his dick when he pivots to face her is anything to go off of (though, whether he’s ditched underwear for the sake of the shoot or solely for comfort, Y/N isn’t sure). All she’s really, actually sure of is that she urgently needs to unglue her eyes from the outline of his cock. 

“D’you want a drink or anything? I mean, I don’t like to do any alcohol before shoots, but if you want, I have seltzers in my fridge.” 

He’s all soft attire — the sweats and bare feet padding over tile, curls a little mussed and swept back. A white tee coats his torso with a cartoonish bee in the center. The words ENJOY HEALTH, EAT YOUR HONEY circle the little piece of outlined artwork in blue. His nails are still green. 

Y/N clears her throat. “Do you have water?” 

“F’course.” 

The kitchen is beside the lounge, and he tells her, as he makes his way over and opens a cabinet to cull a glass, “You can have a seat if you’d like. Figured we’d get the details down before we start filming.” 

His couch is an onyx leather, its form like one of those fancy ones from a 1970s inspired catalog. Y/N sinks into the cushion. She crosses her legs. Uncrosses them. Behind her, the fridge whirs in the kitchen as the water pours into the glass. She’s admiring his fireplace when he stretches the beverage out to her.

“What are we feeling today?” the man winds around to the bend of the sectional, flopping back against the cushions with a sigh as his cotton-clad thighs splay, “…Slow and romantic? Something a little more rough?” 

“Used and abused,” Y/N responds, surprised she manages to keep her cadence as even and nonchalant as she does. The second the statement escapes her, though, she takes a long sip from her glass and hides her simper behind it. 

“Used and abused,” Harry parrots, sitting up a tad as his hands seek new territory from their priorly relaxed splay over the back of the couch. His palms smooth down the fronts of his thighs, instead, and he gives her this little grin; something mischievous that lets his dimples wink alive. “I think I can work with that.”

Yes. She’s certain he can, based on his track record of deviously, deliciously rough content. Three weeks ago she watched a video where his partner was laid out on a table, duck-taped limb to limb, and Y/N had watched his hand — rings removed — roam her body with such delicacy as he drove forward into her. It was all up until the point where the same hand had snaked up around her throat, and then he’d brought it back and smacked her right across the side of her unsuspecting face. It’d sent his partner’s head snapping to the side, and a wave of heat riding through Y/N, coursing through her blood as she’d flipped the vibrator between her thighs to a higher setting. 

Yeah. He can work with that. 

“Since we’re going with that route,” Y/N blinks out from the fog of memoirs circling back to Tiger’s hands exploring and pinching and delivering blows. 

Tiger is much more subdued in this setting. 

“Let’s talk things you’re into, things you’re not so into.” 

The young woman gnaws into her cheek to bridle her grin. “Um. Anal’s a go. Obviously.”

Harry nods, mouth friendly, “Okay.” 

Y/N deliberates. She takes another sip. Harry waits patiently. His green bores into her, and the young woman rolls her lips into her mouth, pupils climbing up to the ceiling as she contemplates. She cocks her head.  

“…Face-fucking. That’s nice. I like dirty talk. I like getting my hair pulled. I like a little bit of pain. You know, like. Spanking. Face slapping, but not, like,” the edges of her mouth cave up, “MMA level—“

The joke culls a huff of soft laughter from him. He nods. 

“Just. General manhandling is good with me,” Y/N tells him. 

Harry nods, his fingers interlocked over his spread knees, and then he sits up a tad. 

“Alright. If we’re going with face fucking, I’m a fan of the trusty tap-tap-tap,” he tells her, motioning with his left palm and patting over his thigh in a series of three as he speaks, “If it ever gets to be too much and you can’t say it, just tap three times, yeah? Just like this.”

Y/N nods. She takes another sip. For a moment, Tiger still has his forearms braced over his lap, but then he sits up a little more. 

“And then when you can say, if anything’s uncomfortable, if you want me to do anything different, just let me know. Doesn’t matter if the camera’s on.” 

Y/N crosses her ankles. She uncrosses them.

“S’all about authenticity. Y’know,” his tongue peeks out to swipe over the plush of his bottom lip, “I don’t wanna be throwing you against the wall or choking you if it doesn’t feel good, even if it looks good on camera. If you’re a clit girl, we’ll play with your clit—“

Her thighs press together.

“If you’re a g-spot girl, we’ll focus on the g-spot.”

She swallows. 

“The throwing against the wall and the choking,” Y/N doesn’t bother hiding her simper as it grows, “Those are good with me, too. And— clit stuff. Yeah.” 

Tiger is hot. Fire hot, like lava coursing and bubbling over rigid stone, even in his soft attire with his soft curls and his soft smiles. He’s got these eyes that feel like they bore through her clothes, but it’s not in an uncomfortably hungry way. 

“What do you… what should I call you during the shoot?” 

His strawberry mouth curls a little. 

“I hear Tiger a lot. M’fine with whatever besides Harry on camera. …If you wanna get a little more into roles we can do Sir. But s’all up to you.” 

It feels like he’s just got this effect — this intense gaze that makes her tummy swirl. It’s not innately an odd shift, going from this entirely professional discourse to soft touches roaming up her sides once they’re in the bedroom. 

It’s the setting for their shoot, and she finds that he’s already got a camera set up on his dresser. One of those that opens up and has a little screen piece that swivels to show what’s currently recording. Harry trails over to it, toggles with the little screen, and, she assumes, begins recording. 

There’s a shag rug by the bed in cream. Y/N eyes it as Harry tugs his shirt over his head, as he makes his way over. Tiger is fire hot, but his touch skims her arm like testing the waters at first. His palms cups her face, the pads of his fingers grazing the sides of her neck, close to her nape, and then his cushiony mouth finds her own. That’s testing at first, too. It’s not a chaste, innocent first kiss by any means, but his mouth is gentle, at first. His hands aren’t hard, and his mouth slots against her own with a kind of tenderness. When her fingers tease up at his waistband, fingering at a warm line of skin between his sweats and his t-shirt, his mouth morphs hungrier. 

“Just—“ Y/N manages between searing kisses as his fingers work the seams of her shirt apart through button-work, “—-jumping right into it, huh?” It’s probably not the sexiest thing to say from the get go of the camera rolling, but she’s honestly still got bits of nerves coiling up in her. This is RideTheTiger. This is happening. She’s going to fuck RideTheTiger. 

Another short kiss, this one she can feel the cushiony pink of his mouth curving up into. 

“Sorry,” Harry amends against her mouth, lips ghosting wetly against her cupid's bow, and the word sounds sort of amused.

And then he’s manually spinning her and marching her over to the dresser, where the camera is set up, her stumbling, rushed gait steadied by the firm press of his thighs from behind as he walks her, colossal hands cupped over her arms. 

“This—” he starts, an introduction blatantly made for the lens, and her pulse stutters when his palm slides up and across and cups over her throat warmly — not quite squeezing, but just there. His other hand explores the expanse of her silhouette from the waist down, pads of his fingers roaming over her tummy, “—is the infamously naughty Birdie.” 

Her veins thrum with something, something hot when the ringed digits traipse to the button of her jeans, just looming over. 

“Can I take these off?” Harry murmurs against the shell of her ear. The tips of his curls tickle at her temple, and she knows he asks it low enough that it’s meant for her. She knows the camera will pick up on it anyways, too. 

“Yeah,” the agreement falls out meshed with an exhale, and her head tips back against his shoulder as his fingers do deft, impressively one-handed work at quick discarding. 

The other hand fondles at one of her tits, only covered with fabric for so long before he takes advantage of the opening he’d made along the line of buttons, pulling at one side for the pink polka-dotted cup of her bra to come out on display. This is all very pro-level disrobing. Y/N decides that when Harry multi-tasks, popping the button of her denim through, pinching at the zipper and tugging down, all still with his other hand caressing over padded flesh at her chest. Ultimately, though, both hands make their way to her hips, and his digits wriggle under either side of her waist band to strip her jeans off, until they rest at about an immobilizing mid-thigh, with an unceremonious yank. 

“I’m Tiger,” Harry talks again, finally, after what’d been a silent moment of apparent concentration, his chin ducked into the nook where her shoulder and her neck meet. 

The man’s fingers toy up under the hem of Y/N’s shirt, wandering over a bare sliver of skin between the top and the line of her panties before they climb the buttoned suture and make work there. 

A chill rolls down her spinal cord, stemming all the way from the nape of her neck, the back and underside of her skull, when Harry declares, almost like she’s not even there, his voice a low and heady baritone, “But, she’s going to call me Sir, and we’re gonna play a little rough with her today, because that’s what she asked for.” 

He’s mid her panting ribcage when the tone in his dialogue switches. It melts from sultry and low to something mirthy when the man sighs and huffs against her neck, like the rounded latches are a long-time nemesis, “Buttons, buttons, so many buttons.” 

Y/N can’t curb the surprised laugh that bubbles from her in response. Her hands rise from her sides (where they’d prior been pretty glued, mostly out of awe and the raw sort of submission manhandling incites), and her forearms brush against his own warm skin as the pads of her fingers shakily work over the stitch he’s on. Harry makes an amused sound into her skin as the corners of her mouth curl up. 

This is real. These are the real moments, the ones that she’s ogled so many times from the other side of the screen, caught on camera mid an otherwise entrancing, perfectly choreographed session of picture-perfect fucking. Like the one where he’d spit and it hadn’t landed where he’d wanted it to, or the one where his partner had spent so long in an angle with her hair over her face and his palm cupped over her mouth, that by the time he’d let up she was spitting out stray hair that’d sunk in past her lips, like a cat with a hairball. Soft laughter had bloomed from the both of them when recognition had dawned, and he’d fingered over her tongue to help her as they’d switched positions. It makes sense why Harry never seems to edit those moments out. 

Authenticity. 

Y/N hopes he doesn’t cut this fragment of the video out. 

“Sorry,” the young woman tells him, her voice garbled with giggles. 

His hands snake up from under her own and they’re the one to pop the final button through. A chilly ring brushes the inside of her wrist. The top separates. 

“There we go,” Harry says, tone colored with enthusiasm, and the way his fingers grip up under the cups of her bra, four for each, and tug abruptly, letting them rest under her freshly-bared tits, kind of, sort of gives her whiplash. 

“Teamwork,” his thumbs slip under either side of her underwear and slink those down until just enough is showing for the eye of the lens. 

Her gaze flits to the viewfinder, and the little icon of her denuded silhouette, pressed up against his chest, one swarthy, inked arm tucked over her ribcage and the sight of his other, ringed digits skimming lower, down her tummy, has her squirming in his grasp. Harry sponges kisses to the side of her neck, and then those ring-clad fingers slide between her legs. Every melty muscle in his arms grows wide awake and tensed like fucking stone. It’s only for a second, before he draws his index and his middle digit, splayed into a blissful V, across either side of her clit. That’s when she liquefies like putty in his hands again, humming softly. 

“…And we’re gonna play with her arse,” Harry tacks on for the camera, almost like it’s an offhand afterthought and not the entire basis of the scene they’ve etched out. 

Y/N laughs, but it melts off into something soft and whimpery when the V lingers and drags. 

“Would you like that?” Harry murmurs, nose tucked into her hair — another comment where the volume implies that it’s obviously meant to be shared between just the two of them — his mouth ghosting over her earlobe and his hand climbing up the ridges of her ribcage like a ladder, “Hm? You want me to play with you there?” 

When his palm expands to rest over the gap between the caging of bone, the space extends out on a breath and she rocks in his touch, hips rolling back subtly. “Mhm.” 

It’s not something he fails to pick up on. The pads of his fingertips expertly toggle at the clasp of her bra — honestly, she’s ludicrously impressed, not only by his keen recognition of the frontal clasp, but this seemingly innate, deft ability to discard clothing pieces with one hand. The straps relax and slip down her shoulders the second the cups fall free and apart. 

“Mhm?” Harry mimics; a low, teasing hum. Y/N thinks then, that this little, patronizing repetition thing he’s got going on could be categorized as a kink in and of itself. 

The palm that’d settled over her diaphragm slinks up to grope at one of her tits. 

It’s kind of game over from there. 

There’s something hard and solid digging into the small of her back, and the longer he spends fondling between her thighs, the longer he spends swiping his thumb over her nipple, the more heat teems to her core, like a glowing warmth that seeps and pulses. The more sure Y/N becomes that his fingertips are definitely culling that top coat she’d pictured all along, enhancing the color there with glinting excitement. 

“There’s a good girl,” Harry purrs when her legs spread a smidge more in response, despite the way they’re nearly glued together with the immobilizing squeeze of her waistband resting mid-thigh. 

The tip of his nose burrows into her hair and grazes at the skin on the side of her neck when his head ducks, fingers sneaking further until the pads press to explore where she’s gushing. His index and his thumb work in tandem to pinch at a nipple and tug. 

And then his tongue licks a practically searing stripe right beside her jugular, and his words send air over wet skin to soothe the flame, “…Getting my fingers all wet, aren’t you?” 

Gameovergameovergameovergameover.

Shelosesshelosesshelosessheloses.

Another burst of air over the wet skin, the soft creak of a chuckle — that’s what reminds her that she’s definitely not breathing. 

Fuck. Y/N sucks in air with a chest tensed like metal armor. His teeth nip over her earlobe. 

And then RideTheTiger slides his slick fingers out from between her legs, coaxing (when she sags in his grip like a marionette that’s had its strings snipped), “Why don’t you give them a little spin and show them the pretty plug you’ve been wearing for me, pet.”

Touch, touch, touch. When Y/N pivots for him, turning her backside to the camera, his mouth brushes the crest of her cheekbone. His warm pecs go flush with her own chest, his palms settle on her love handles and the insides of his rings stipple chills to combat the heat of flesh on flesh. He sponges a kiss to her throat when the young woman throws a glance back to the little screen and shakily presses her palms to the globes of her backside, pulling the flesh there apart to show off the pretty end, silicone petals cradling the shape of a rose. 

That’s when he kneels, cheek pressed to the side of her thigh, when he casts his gaze to the plug with that telltale furrow to his brow bone that she’s seen caught on camera so many times. That’s when his teeth burrow into the pillow of his bottom lip, when he brushes a nearly tentative touch over the plug with the tips of his fingers. That’s when Harry nudges at it and jade bounces from the pallid pink plastic to the shape of her jawline tensing above in response, mouth growing mirthy. 

Nothing prepares her for the way he praises, almost like he’s in awe (and nearly too low for the camera to catch), “So pretty.”

A crease works in between her own eyebrows when his index and his thumb pinch over the plug and twist. And then he lays his thumb over the base and pushes, lightly, as if it can go any further. He draws the pad of his index over the hilt of the plug almost thoughtfully, and then tap-taps in a pair of two that makes her roll her lips into her mouth

“Don’t move,” Harry instructs, after a moment, sneaky, devious fingertips withdrawing altogether. She’s holding her breath again. Y/N readjusts her grip. 

“Just like that,” comes his croon from below, undeniably heady and entirely responsible for the warmth churning between her thighs, “…Just like that, little bird. Show it off, baby.” 

Little bird hits her like a fucking freight train. 

It’s just a play on words, a moniker he’s melded from her stage name, her online personality. It’s been all of, maybe, six minutes — a generous consideration for the timeframe — and he’s already managed to morph her porno pseudonym into a pet name with his soft murmur. 

She’s so focused on the ironic way that such a delicate thing off his tongue makes something so violently carnal stir within her that the young woman doesn’t even notice that he’s been sat near her thighs for a solid second, unspeaking and untouching, besides the paste of his warm cheek beside the press of her hands. 

It’s a suspiciously mischievous sort of silence, but Tiger is no secret-keeper, not when he pats over the back of her leg, a one-tap gesture, and rises to announce, one third amused and two-thirds smug, “Thumbnail.”

The admission is so crude and unexpected that it draws a peal of sputtering laughter from her, feigned indignation meshing with mirth as he rises from the floor, all cocky with an unfairly alluring curl that’s strayed from the rest and flopped to lay over his forehead. 

“You want to use my ass as your thumbnail?” 

Muted raspberry breaks its relaxed line to curve up, obviously self-satisfied and obviously unashamed. Y/N doesn’t think she’ll ever quite keep up with the casual nature of Harry’s mannerisms, not when he hums and his grin splits further, twisting around her to daub her jaw with a kiss.

“…And not my pretty face?” Y/N blinks.

“Last I checked—'' Harry tells her, fingers raking through her roots and palm cradling at her scalp in a way that coaxes chills to bud and roam down the nape of her neck. The digits twist her hair into a bun until his palm is squeezing at her hair all bunched like a flower blooming in reverse, “—You were here to be used and abused, per your request. Not to ask questions.” 

Despite the way he cranes her neck back with the motion, the way it has her jaw unlatching and a surprised exhale full of want escaping, despite the way he drags his teeth down her neck in a line, nipping, Y/N manages to keep her voice impressively even. 

“You don’t want my pretty face painted with your cum as the thumbnail?” she baits, throat bobbing on a swallow. 

He bites. 

At first, his lashline narrows a smidge in obvious inkling that the brazen words have affected him, but then he tips his head and his smug beam morphs more sluggish, more pleased than amused. 

“You want my cum painting your pretty face?” 

“Mm,” Y/N hums in agreement when he turns her head to paste a kiss to the corner of her mouth. 

“Yeah? That’s what you want?” 

His tone is suggestive as he manhandles her over onto the fuzzy rug she’d admired before things got all murky with arousal and …cinematic. Y/N twists in his grasp until he’s nudging her onto her knees with his hands. 

And his voice is low, easy like a sigh, each note interlaced with nonchalance and seemingly effortless power, “Let’s see how good you suck cock.”

Before Harry shoves his waistband down, though, he stuffs a hand into his pocket and culls his phone. He gives her this look down from behind it, thumb tucked behind gray elastic.  It’s this wordless, expressionless sort of seeking; all good? Y/N nudges with her chin, lashes fluttering. Tiger toggles over the screen one-handed, and her eyes flit to the uneven pull at his sweats — if only for a second — that showcases bare skin and the cut of a V-line on one side. As he nudges the sweats off to rest under his balls, the phone pings. It’s the sound of a notification — he’s recording. 

His dick is pretty. Pretty in pink with a prominent vein on the underside and a soft dusting of neatly trimmed, dark pubic hair over his pelvic bone that his happy trail had foreshadowed, and his tip is a ruddy shade that matches the tint of his mouth. She’s seen his cock before, obviously, but ogling it in person rather than as a conglomeration of pixels is a different sort of experience. He’s always looked big on screen, the sheer size of him with a fist over his shaft always implying it. But he’s big. Big enough for two of her hands to cradle over his cock comfortably with the head peeking out from her grip, digits never quite meeting in the middle. Y/N spits into a palm before wrapping it over his shaft, eyes flickering up front under her lashes to meet the lens of the camera. 

“You’re so big,” the young woman admits after a moment, irises bouncing from her grip to the phone looming over, and she drags her tongue over her other palm to cup over him with two like it’s proof. 

And Harry strokes over the side of her scalp, almost like he’s wordlessly scratching a dog’s ears in praise, a soft, pleased huff escaping through his nostrils and his lips shaping over a smug sort of beam that never really unseals. 

Almost tentatively, with her eyes still bouncing from the lens to his cock and back, Y/N leans forward and drags his tip over her tongue. Harry sighs in response, fingertips still hovering at her roots. She purses her lips and lets saliva dribble from her mouth onto his head messily, swiping over the wetness with her thumb, and then she strokes down his shaft with two hands as she wraps her lips over him and draws a circle with her tongue. The subtle, although sharp, inhale she earns in response to the motion has her batting her lashes up at the camera.  

“You’re not shy at all, are you? Not in front of the camera,” Harry says after a moment. 

He’s so obviously bridling a hiss when she drags her tongue up under his leaky tip, his front teeth lodging into the pillow of his bottom lip and brows furrowing. Despite the phone cradled over her face, the young woman still has enough room to observe his. Y/N bats her lashes coyly, pupils flitting back to the camera as her mouth opens to showcase the view of her hands working in gentle twists while she drags his cockhead over her tastebuds. 

“…No, you’re not that shy, little girl that you were in the cafe at all.”

She seals her lips over his tip, hollows her cheeks, and hums. 

“…All prim and proper,” the fingertips that’d scraped over the side of her scalp trail to the back of her head, “…Didn’t even wanna say you liked cum dripping out of you. Didn’t wanna let everyone know that you’re a little anal whore.” 

The words coax her to clench over the plug. 

“…S’okay, baby,” Harry tells her after a moment, “I like that you’re a whore on camera for me,”and then the hand that’d cradled over the back of her skull encourages her own palm to slowly unwrap and fall away as he curls it over his shaft to guide it’s aim. 

Y/N pulls off, and Tiger smears the tip over her spit-slicked, swollen mouth. It parts, and Harry traces over the open seam of her lips like he’s applying lip gloss. 

“Please,” the young woman says, mouthing over his tip, almost inaudible. 

“Hm?” 

“Please,” Y/N repeats, and the drag of his tip slides over her bottom lip on the s. 

Harry inhales from above. He doesn’t immediately give her what she wants, instead opting to draw over her cupid’s bow as he tips his head, voice quiet and still somehow full of a dominant edge. “So polite. You wanna taste more of my cock?” 

The young woman nods, eyes tipped up, and he smears his cockhead over her mouth again. Harry’s teeth nudge into the plush of his bottom lip before he directs, “Stick your tongue out for me. I’ll give you a little taste.” 

And he does. He grazes her tongue with it the moment it’s on show, basking in her soft breaths puffing out against him and the sweet sight of her gaze, unwavering. 

“S’that good?” Harry asks, mouth curling at the (currently) brazenly lewd young woman at his feet, “What you wanted?” 

And she just nods up at him. Despite the way she wants more, the way she wants to close her lips around him and keep twisting her grasp to watch his seams split in ecstacy, Y/N motions lightly with her head. A little sound escapes the back of her throat when he drags the tip of his cock back over her top lip and sighs. 

“You really are such a little whore, aren’t you?” Harry says, tracing along the open seam of her lips with the tip and dragging it over her tongue again, “Give me a pretty smile. Show me just how much you like it.“ 

His words melt off into a rumbly hum when, as he draws over the border of her bottom lip and takes his cock off her tongue, her pretty teeth slowly seep shut and the corners of her mouth form something absolutely overjoyed. Her head cocks, and she grins up at him. All innocuous too, if it weren’t for the head of a cock smearing over the edges of her smile. His thumb slinks out from the hold he’s got over his dick to graze with the pad at the shiny white of her top teeth. 

“Good girl.”

Somewhere around there is when her teeth part and his thumb mingles onto her tongue. Then, the young woman wraps her lips over the digit and sucks. The tension of her cheeks hollowing over his finger in the silence is cut short with a ping — Harry turns the camera off and flings the phone somewhere in the direction of the bed. There’s no definitive thump behind her, so Y/N assumes the man makes it. She hums and pulls off of the digit with a pop and a giggle. 

Dimples pluck alive beside his smile. “Something funny?” 

“No,” the young woman clears her throat, the apples of her cheeks still emphasized and round with her apparent amusement, “Nothing. It’s just.” She blinks up at him, “…Surreal, sort of. Your dick’s just as pretty in person as it is on camera.”

Tiger cocks his head and swipes over her bottom lip with the tip of said dick. She’s quite good at stroking his ego. 

“Thanks. That’s sweet, darling.”  

A furrow works between his brows as her tongue peeks out to daub at the lingering head. “You watch a lot of my videos?” 

And the admission comes almost hungry, with no remorse, “Mm. Touch myself to them.” 

That’s when his brows crease more, when heat swells down through the trench of his tummy and teems up the underside of his balls, where they drive taut at the words. 

“Christ.”

Blown jade bouncing from her lips to the contact of her own eyes and back. Eventually, he swallows and directs, “Tongue out.” 

When she displays it for him, jaw wide, those shambles splinters of composure seemingly fuse. The Harry that emerges nearly gives her whiplash. 

“You touch yourself to my videos?” Harry coos, and the words are coated with so much condescension that Y/N is sure she’d be humiliated in any other circumstance. 

Her tongue twitches under his cockhead. The man looming over swipes that same, leaky tip over her taste buds, and his grin broadens into something like a borderline sadistic Cheshire cat. And then he’s leaning over a smidge, cock still angled over her outstretched tongue, opposite hand fondling under that, at her jaw, and squeezing at her cheeks. 

“That is so—“ emphasizing the words with the slap of his tip against her tongue, Harry grits out, “—fucking—“ another tap that has her uselessly lolled tongue jolting and a garbled little sound wresting from the back of her throat, “—cute.”

Y/N blinks up at him, one hand uncurling slowly and falling away as he nudges the back of her head to swallow more of him in past her lips. 

“Why don’t you use that hand and play with your little clit for me? The way you do when you’re watching me.” 

She makes a muffled noise around him as he sinks in further, and her hand traipses between her poorly, poorly splayed thighs. 

“That’s it,” Harry murmurs, though whether the praise is directed at the way the tips of her fingers pry between her legs or the way she blinks wetly over his cock as she takes more of him into her mouth, Y/N is unsure. “There’s a good girl. Look at me— yeah. Fuck.” 

He holds onto either side of her head, long fingers splaying over her skull, and the young woman splutters when his tip prods at the back of her throat and teases at her gag reflex. The tip of her nose grazes his happy trail, so all in all, it’s a solid effort in one go. Harry holds her there for a moment, relishing in the squeeze of her throat over him as she fights sputtering more, and a throaty groan rips from his vocal chords before his fingers tangle into her hair. That’s when he yanks her off. 

Her chest is already rolling in pants, and the way his palm collides with the fleshy area of her cheek nearly launches her lightheaded headspace into overload. The blow isn’t loud, and it doesn’t really hurt, but he does it a second time, palm grazing over the same fragment of skin. It’s the hand that doesn’t have any rings, and Y/N’s mouth curls up in borderline delirious bliss, teeth unsealed and lips swollen and saliva-daubed. Tiger coaxes a moan when he goes for it a third time. But this time, his hand snakes to palm over the column of her throat and squeeze.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” Harry tells her, thumb cruising over an inch of skin, “Such a slut for it.”

Her pulse thunders under his grasp. It’s almost like his touch pries the nearly animalistic giggle off her lips. She’s still beaming open-mouthed, and her voice is raw when she beckons, “Yeah—“

And then there’s a ragged gasp and subdued sort of gag, coated with surprise, when Tiger nudges her face forward and unceremoniously shoves his dick back down her throat, his brows pinched.  

“Get that mouth back on my cock.” 

Her hands find his thighs, just wavering over them, curling and unflexing as her eyes squeeze shut. 

“Don’t close your eyes. Look up at me. Look up at me— there you go,” Harry cooes when, despite every instinct that coaxes every muscle in her face to clench and tense, Y/N follows his directions and blinks up at him through a watery sheen. “Shit.”

And then he’s hauling her off and she’s gasping for breath, only for a short moment before he slides back past her jaw until her chin is flush with his sac and he’s pulsing in the warm confines of her mouth. Her lashes flutter. A devious kind of laugh bubbles from him, breathy, and low, and short when the heels of her palms press into the sturdy muscle beneath his laurels. Except this time he doesn’t yank her all the way off for a third time. He holds her there for a second, swearing softly at the view, and then tugs her off until his tip’s on her tongue and pumps back in. It’s a subtle motion — testing, like he’s observing her reaction, really assessing her comfort levels with this. He does it a few more times, as gentle of a motion as it really can be until she squints her eyes shut and muzzles a cough, blinking up at him rapidly through the blur. 

Harry swipes a thumb under her eye, where a rivulet leaks, praising almost in a whisper as she practically vibrates at his feet, “That’s it.” 

Another second to gasp in air, and then he’s fucking her mouth, brushing her gag reflex with every drive forward and every pump out. Y/N sort of loses herself in it — in the fingertips burrowing into her roots, in the huffs and groans that escape him, in the warm muscle beneath her touch, in the way his dick slides down her throat. It’s quite nice. RideTheTiger is fucking her mouth, and it’s nice.

“Look at you,” Harry hums after a while, the hold on the back of her head firm, and she blinks at him all teary-eyed, gagging around him as her chin presses flush with his balls. “So sloppy. Made my nice joggers all wet.” 

Drool pools down her chin, and strings of it dangle from his balls and sully the fabric further. She bats her lashes up at him, and tears slink off from her waterline. Her fingers flex and relax over his thigh, never quite loosening the tension there fully. The man swipes the thumb on his free hand under her eye, where inky black has smudged off from her lashes, and the lewd, left corner of his mouth tips up lopsidedly. 

“You’re such a pretty girl when you’re making a mess,” and then, to nail the demeaning compliment home with the most heady, joyfully smug tone, “Yes you are, little bird.”

His sluggish grin morphs into a borderline pornographic lip-bite then, and he cranes his neck back with a throaty hum, fingers tensing and relaxing, before his digits ultimately tighten in her hair and coax the young woman off. She coughs like she hasn’t breathed in ages, 

Y/N doesn’t know how she gets up to her feet. It’s a lightheaded clamber, coaxed by Harry’s fingers tugging at her hair, his hand on her arm, his definitive, “Get up.” Somehow, though, she manages, despite the fact that her jeans are still half-on, and Harry steadies her and makes her dizzy all at once when his mouth presses hungrily to hers. One hand cradles the side of her neck and the other braces her at the hip. It’s a heated kiss, like Tiger doesn’t mind that her chin is coated with spit, or that the same spit smears over his own jaw as their mouths connect. Y/N nearly trips over her own feet as he walks her, backwards, into the general direction of the bed. The mattress meets the backs of her knees and his hand (which has, since settling on her hip, mingled up her side and cupped over one of her tits) sends her toppling back against the sheets. Harry nearly snickers at her look of indignation. Instead though, he tucks his fingers up under her half-down denim and tugs until her pants are off and she finally, finally has the ability to spread her legs. He tosses those onto the rug, and Y/N watches Harry finish disrobing, kicking the gray sweats into a rumpled pile beside her jeans. 

The camera is still rolling on the dresser, and it’ll keep rolling. It’ll keep rolling when he sinks his face between her thighs, it’ll keep rolling when he pulls the plug out and nudges his fingers in, when he slips his cock into her cunt and then, eventually, switches to her other hole. Or maybe it’ll go in an all different order. Tiger cradles her by the hips and repositions her roughly. The lens doesn’t catch the way she’s all shimmery between her legs with want from its angle, but Harry does, eyes glued there as his fingertips trail featherlight up her thigh and back down. 

A crease works in between his brows like he’s contemplating something, and then he pats the same fragment of flesh he’d been caressing and instructs, “Flip over.” 

Y/N tips over to her side and then rolls onto her tummy, but when she clambers onto her hands and knees Harry beckons, “Where are you going, little bird?” He sighs, warm palm grasping over her ankle and yanking her back towards the edge of the bed, just until Y/N is splayed and forced to shimmy her way back into a pretty arch. “Hm?” 

His hand is still gripped over the joint when the other climbs up the back of her naked thigh, skin on skin petting softly there. “Where are you going, little girl?”  

She’s going to implode. She nearly does when his colossal palms cup either cheek of her backside and spread. He hums like he’s pleased. 

“Which hole should I fuck first…” Harry ponders aloud from behind, but it all feels sort of rhetorical when he nudges over her tightest, little hole, pressing like he’s teasing a breach with the tip of his digit. 

She thinks he must be using his other hand, too, because the pad of his thumb drives a circle over her puffy, spit-slicked clit. The ring of muscle flutters. 

“…Hm?”

[jesuistrestriste]

I also had this idea about dilf era art having his sex tape(s) leaked.. or leaking them on purpose because his career is falling off.

The Christian moms would be clutching their pearls when they hear about THE art donaldson getting his back blown out 💀

His tennis career might be over but maybe he's got a new one with his pretty younger gf and her massive strap

ufff angel ! !

it’s a massive scandal when it leaks on twitter from an anonymous account.

the start of the video is actually pretty tame; and you’d never expect the man in the video to be the wimbledon-winning art donaldson. the first few minutes show a fit, naked man sitting on the edge of a bed with a girl in his lap. his hands on her hips, his cock bobbing in the little space left between them. she’s wearing a lacy black lingerie set, and even though you can’t see their faces—the framing cuts off their heads—you can tell from the wet, depraved noises alone that they’re aggressively making out.

the sloppy kissing turns into the two individuals getting handsy. he reaches up to squeeze her tits over the fabric, and her hands seem to move up behind his neck to tug on the back of his hair. a flash of blond locks can be seen. that’s the first hint of his identity. he moans when she pulls, his abdomen tensing and his length dribbling a sticky glob of arousal from his tip. in the next instant, one of her hands reaches down and starts to palm his tip. he jolts forward and whines, letting out an anguished “hnnghh” as she starts to stroke him.

his breathing gets quicker, the pale skin of his chest growing more and more pink by the second, before his fingers appear to dig into her body and he tenses up. her hand pulls away, effectively edging him. he shudders and wraps his arms around her lower back, pulling her further into his body. “pleasepleaseplease..” he can be heard whispering to begging her.

the tape cuts to black for only a moment before—

…wow.

she’s now got him bent over onto all-fours on the bed, his ass facing her pelvis while she lines up a thick pink dildo that’s attached to a harness she hadn’t been wearing before. his head is still lifted just enough to keep his eyes out of the video, but his jaw and lips and the tip of his nose can be seen. his mouth is hung open in a desperate ‘o’ while he feels her strap prod and begin to push in. it slides into him with little resistance, and she can be heard cooing down to the man below.

“thaaat’s it, baby.. good job.. guess we prepped you enough, huh?”

it’s teasing yet authoritative in nature, and the man just lets out an anguished groan of pure unfiltered pleasure as she positions her hands at his hips and starts to earnestly fuck into him. each roll of her pelvis elicits a sharp moan and whimper, and anyone watching can clearly see his cock drooling onto the sheets helplessly.

suddenly, after only a couple of minutes of this, the woman hikes her leg up onto the bed, bending it at the knee to gain better leverage on the side farthest from the camera, and pushes her hand down into the space between his shoulder blades.

he lets out a surprised whimper, keens, and then falls face-down into the bedding.

and in that moment in the video, every single person watching finally realized who he was.

all of his features are now totally visible. every single one.

art’s face is burning; his eyes rolling back into his head while his brows pinch up in ecstasy. his cheek is pressing into the mattress, his ass still up to meet her movements. he grips the white bedding under his palms and then bites his lip, “ohhh, fuck,” he whines, almost girlish, “fuck me harder, i’m gonna come, baby— ah-haah— i’m so close right now-!”

he’s making noises like a total pornstar; someone fit for the limelight and the mess of it all.

the woman, who can now be assumed to be his (controversially) younger girlfriend, complies with his begging with no more than a low chuckle. she bucks into him faster, and art yelps.

she raises her right hand and brings it down over his ass in a playful slap before she squeezes the flesh. his entire frame jolts and then he squeezes his eyes shut, his back perfectly arched, “.. im gonna come, can i— mgnh- touch myself? can you-or, i c— AH!”

the tennis player’s words get cut off when the girl leans over his back and wraps her hand around his sticky dick hanging heavily between his thighs. she pumps him quickly in time with her thrusts and it takes no more than twenty seconds before he’s trembling all over. and god, it’s a sight to behold.

“i’m gonna come, ‘m gonna come, baby, im gonna come! i’m—“

a strangled curse flies past his lips before he’s squealing and gushing milky strings of his release over her fingers and onto the bed. moans of pleasure turn into sobs of overstimulation as she milks him in her grasp, strong shots of his orgasm blending into pathetic dribbles of whatever’s left inside his balls.

he collapses under her, her strap still filling him, and she tenderly strokes his shaking back with her left hand. art’s gasping for air like he’s been deprived of it for a moment too long, and some of his hair is sticking to his forehead. his eyes open slightly, albeit lidded, and he moans out a slurred “thank you” before the video cuts to an end.

the uproar in its wake is insane.

he’s all over celebrity gossip magazines, and being talked about in raunchy podcasts, and exploited in deep-dive youtube videos. everything. it’s everywhere.

people were talking about him now who hadn’t even thought about him in years.

he was the talk of the town, really.

.. so art doesn’t even feel guilty that he was the one who clicked ‘post’.

[boringkate]

Here’s a bunch of junk for you trans girls to watch

Update: there used to be a link to a mega folder here, but it got taken down.

///TGIRL FEATURE FILMS (alphabetical order)

Adam (2019) it's about a cis boy who's mistaken for a trans boy and rolls with it. Big cast of trans characters including a tgirl played by a tgirl who everyone wants to fuck. Directed by a trans dude. Highly legit. If you're still hung up on pre release speculation based on the novel then you're the most annoying person alive.

Assassination Nation (2018) The first half is Euphoria and the second half is The Purge. ONE OF THE BEST TGIRL MOVIES OF ALL TIME.

Bit (2019) Lesbian girl power vampire movie where the main character is a tgirl played by a tgirl. It's solid. I find it frustrating that they hint at her being trans without explicitly acknowledging it (and she's passing as fuck, so it's easy to not notice), but I know that's what some of y'all want.

Boy Meets Girl (2014) Cis dude for trans girl love story. Pretty normie, but also you see her fully naked (gock out) at the end.

Funeral Parade of Roses (1969) Extremely 60s. Cool as hell.

Lady Daddy (2010) South Korean romcom about a trans girl played by a cis girl who tries unconvincingly to back pass when she finds out she has a kid. Very cute.

Lingua Franca (2019) written directed and starring Isabel Sandoval. An undocumented trans woman immigrant in New York deals with a cis dude partner being a cis dude. Which is also the plot of The Garden Left Behind (2019).

Myra Breckinridge (1970) Raquel Welch is a trans woman and her goal is the destruction of the last vestigial traces of traditional manhood! It's Fight Club! It's Hackers! It's divisive, but it's probably my favorite movie!

So Pretty (2019) Literally the first scripted feature length (non pornographic tho it does have cock) film to feature two trans women played by trans women kissing eachother.

Something Must Break (2014) THE OTHER BEST TGIRL MOVIE OF ALL TIME. Drugs. Crimes. Gock. Slow motion pissing. Slow motion park Fucking. Genuinely the most beautiful sex scene I've seen in any movie. And she makes it to the end still alive and more sure of herself and at peace than ever.

Tangerine (2015) Groundbreaking and also a bunch of the secondary characters are real life pornstars (which I think is neat).

The Garden Left Behind (2019) This and Lingua Franca (2019) really are tgirl twin films, but (like with Antz and A Bug’s Life) the vibes and details make them distinct (I assume tho tbh I’ve never watched Antz).

///TGIRL DOCUMENTARIES

Bambi (2013) about a trans girl showgirl in 50s/60s paris

Paris is Burning (1990) basically it's Pose.

Shinjuku Boys (1995) Trans dudes working in a tokyo club that caters to tboy chasing cis girls. There's at least one trans girl in the mix too.

///FORCED FEMINIZATION

A Reflection of Fear (1972) They raised her as a girl and it made her do murders! It drags in places, but the girl in it is so ethereal and it has ageplay vibes and daddy issues.

Memory Run (1996) A very fun direct to video scifi action flick about fighting fascism by blowing up your pre transition self with a rocket launcher + it's based on a novel written by a trans woman.

She-Man A Story of Fixation (1967) Notable for being such a cliche sissy maid fantasy while also coming out so early + it was Bob Clark's first film lol.

Sleepaway Camp (1983) A more famous version of Reflection of Fear.

Surrender Dorothy (1998) A MUST WATCH. I personally bought a physical DVD and made an ISO of it for you because I was unsatisfied with the quality of the only copy that seemed to exist online. I ALSO PERSONALLY CREATED MY OWN SUBTITLES FOR IT BECAUSE EVEN THE DVD DIDN’T INCLUDE ANY! WHICH TOOK HOURS TO DO!

The Skin I Live In (2011) A rapist is kidnapped and turned into a girl by a mournful vengeful plastic surgeon. Which was also the plot of Victim (2010). I never really vibe with Pedro Almodóvar movies, but I recognize this is the preeminent forced feminization film.

///SHORT FILMS

Gender Troublemakers (1993) Some 90s Toronto trans girls fucking and discoursing. Explicit tgirl on tgirl action. This is the only one on the list that I haven’t actually watched yet. I’m hyped to watch it tho. Seems mindblowingly rad af.

Happy Birthday Marsha (2018) It's about Marsha P. Johnson.

I don't Know (1971) I'm obsessed with the trans girl in this one she just keeps popping up in all kinds of early 70s stuff. Directed by Penelope Spheeris (who is the sister of the cis gf in it).

Mesmeralda (2019) AN ABSOLUTE BANGER HOLY FUCK THE VIBES ARE OFF THE CHARTS! PLS WATCH THIS! I refuse to apologize for it being 15GB. It’s worth every byte.

Pat Rocco's Changes (1970) It's that same girl again!

Queens at Heart (1967) I can't get over that hairdresser girl thinking she's back passing. Most adorably weak boymode ever.

Shangri-La (2021) Another Isabel Sandoval joint.

The Yellow Wallpaper (2021) Freshly post op girl with a supportive boyfriend goes unhinged.

Undress Me (2012) Jana Bringlöv Ekspong did a few short films. Give janabringlove a google after watching this.

///JUST LIKE BTW

Some of these would be tough to find elsewhere, but most of the movies are also watchable on fmovies and/or can be torrented in higher quality.

After you've worked your way through the folder then just start doing Google searches for trans films. Look at IMDB keywords and letterboxd lists. There are so many more out there. These are just like my personal picks.

[vampiefemme]

guys i hate to say it but i need bestfriend!ellie, who steals ur panties to get off... i need her like air!!! 18+ below, mdni!

you’re searching for a lighter in ellie’s nightstand when you notice a flash of pink lace. interest piqued, you tug the fabric out from under a book and some pens, eyes widening when you realize what it is - underwear. your underwear.

you’d lost this pair forever ago and had just assumed it got lost in the dryer, like a mismatched sock. your breath catches in your throat as you imagine ellie in your bedroom, waiting for you to turn away so she could grab these from your laundry basket. heat pools in your gut. what else had she done with these?

“did you find it?” ellie asks as she strides back into the room, having left to grab her bong from the living room. her expression falls when you turn around, the pink thong dangling from your fingertips.

you watch ellie’s cheeks flush bright red, her throat bobbing with a gulp. “i—um, that’s weird. whose are those?”

you almost laugh at her poor attempt to play it cool. your lips pull into a knowing smile, and you take a few steps closer to ellie. she’s like a deer in headlights.

“you know,” you say, getting even closer - so close you can smell the cologne ellie wears. it smells like a bonfire. “i always wondered where these went.”

she just blinks at you. “they’re yours?”

“don’t play dumb,” you tell her. she can barely look at you - the expression on her face reads as utterly mortified.

“i’m not mad, baby.” you reach out and grab the bong from ellie, bringing it to the nightstand and returning to your place in front of her. the pet name makes ellie turn an even brighter shade of red - it’s so fucking cute.

“but i did miss this pair of panties,” you sigh. “you’re gonna have to make it up to me.”

“i’m sorry,” ellie blurts, “i’m so fucking sorry, i know it’s weird and creepy and wrong, but i just—i don’t know, i—”

“why don’t you show me?” you interrupt, one hand still holding the pink thong, your other hand trailing up ellie’s side.

“show me what you did with these, hm?”

you lean in close, that bonfire-like cologne heady and intoxicating. your lips brush against ellie’s, but you don’t kiss her. “please?”

and that’s how you end up sprawled on ellie’s mattress, watching as she pumps her fingers into her wet cunt, her other hand gripping the pair of lace panties.

“fuck,” ellie hisses, sweat-drenched locks of hair clinging to her forehead and temples. she moans your name and your blood runs hot; it’s like fire in your veins. how long had she done this? how many times had she plunged her fingers knuckle-deep in her own cunt, moaning your name like a pornstar?

you squeeze your thighs together, wetness pooling at your center. ellie’s close, you can tell - she’s going faster, panting harder, the wet sounds of her fingers moving through her pussy enough to drive you crazy. when she comes, it’s with a strangled groan, her hand stalling between her legs as she writhes and twitches, hips jolting. it’s a pretty picture, ellie fucked-out from her own fingers.

but you’re not done with her yet.

you sit up on your knees, catching ellie’s gaze as she fights to catch her breath. she watches you carefully remove your shirt, then your bra, your tits supple and round, nipples pebbled. you keep your skirt on, but you reach beneath it to grab the waistband of your panties. you’re wearing another thong, this one black, and when you pull it down your hips and off, you give ellie the kind of look that makes her blush all over again.

“here, els,” you coo, crawling over to her and moving up to straddle her waist. “you need this to keep you quiet.”

ellie just nods, nostrils flaring with every exhale as you push your thumb between her lips, encouraging her to open her jaw. the thong fits almost perfectly inside her open mouth, and the sight of her like that, your thong like a gag to keep her silent, makes your clit throb, your cunt absolutely soaked.

you ride her like that, your pussy wet against hers, her leftover cum spread between your folds, and god you can’t believe you haven’t done this sooner. you roll your hips down and cry out at the feeling of ellie’s cunt smearing against your own, the wet sounds completely obscene.

ellie’s moans and grunts are muffled by the thong in her mouth, her hands gripping your hips, fingernails leaving little crescent moon-shaped marks in your skin. it’s messy and sweaty and desperate, the way you ride her in search of your own pleasure. a thin sheen of sweat glistens on your skin and ellie thinks you look like an angel - but this? this is far from angelic.

ellie uses her grip on your hips to push and pull you along, dragging your cunt over hers faster, faster. you’re both on the very edge, bodies desperate for release, and when you finally come, it’s with a strangled cry of ellie’s name. she comes not long after. her eyes roll back into her skull and you swear she’s going to leave bruises on your hips. the idea thrills you.

finally, you pull the fabric from ellie’s mouth, tossing it beside you on the bed. you lean in close to her, and she smooths a hand over the small of your back. your lips brush over hers again, and this time, ellie pulls you in for a kiss.

you let her keep both pairs of panties.

[theemporium]

Honey, I’m so so sorry. But it happens to every artist at some point.

I had a smallest idea, Lando and his girl workinv on her gag reflex, doing some training 🥵🥵

And he’s trying to be sweet and caring BUT his dominant side takes over for a moment or two???

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

As stupid as it sounded—and trust me, he knew how it sounded—Lando thought the determination in your eyes might’ve been the hottest thing about the situation. 

Not the fact his cock was down your throat. 

But, fuck, it drove him fucking crazy. It drove him crazy when you walked into the living room, brows furrowed and lips pursed like you already had a game plan. It drove him crazy when you told him to take his sweatpants off, zero explanation or context given. It drove him crazy when you kneeled down on the carpet before him and pressed the palm of your heel against the bulge in his boxers. 

Now, Lando wasn’t stupid or oblivious. He was big. He knew he was big. He was fucking cocky about it. And truthfully, he didn’t really care about his size—at least, not in the way you seemed to. If anything, there was almost a shot of pure, ego-stroking cockiness that flashed through him when past partners had failed to take all of him in their mouths. 

Lando didn’t even think you had an issue with it. He certainly didn’t. Fuck, to him, it never mattered if it was just the tip or half his cock, your mouth just felt heavenly and drove him to the edge every single time in minutes.

But something had tipped you over the edge. Something had made you determined. Something had made you want to take Lando’s cock down your throat, every single fucking inch like it was a challenge you were going to complete no matter what.

And that fucking ambition might have him coming and ruining your whole challenge in seconds with the way you were looking up at him, eyes wide and glossy and so fucking adamant that it made his breath hitch.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he chanted breathlessly, slumped back against the couch as your tongue ran over the slit on his tip. “Shit, baby, I’m already hard. Can’t keep pulling tricks like that if you want me to last.”

Your hand continued to pump the rest of his length as you pulled off, grinning at him with those red and swollen lips. “But I like the sounds you make.”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Fuck.”

“Can’t wait to hear what noises you made when your cock is down my throat,” you continued, pressing light kisses along the length of his dick that left his hips bucking into your hand. “Can’t wait to feel how full you make me.”

“You’re a fucking menace,” he breathed out, muttered out with a soft cry as you licked a long strip from his balls to his tip. 

“You say that like you don’t want it just as bad,” you retorted, flashing him an innocent smile that he almost would have believed if it weren’t for the fact your chin was slick with drool and his precome. 

“Of course I want it, baby,” he muttered as he reached his hand out, brushing his fingers along your cheek before his fingers raked through your hair and remained there. “Can’t fucking wait to feel that pretty mouth around my cock, feel you squeezing me tight.”

Your face heated at the desire burning in his eyes as he guided your mouth back to his cock. You followed without hesitation, obeying the silent command as your lips wrapped around him again.

“So fucking determined to be the first, hm? To be the one to take all of me,” he cooed, something about the smirk on his face making your thighs clench together as he began to control your movements, control the speed your head bobbed up and down. “Just wanna be good like those girls in those videos you think I don’t see you watching, huh?”

You let out a pathetic noise around his cock, something quite like a whimper that made him grin wider. 

“My good girl wants to be like one of those fucking pornstars, huh?” Lando moaned as his hips jerked up, as those teary eyes stared up at him with such purpose.  “Shit, baby, gonna let you practise until you’re so much better than them.” 

You whined, your eyes fluttering shut as a soft gagging noise sounded through the room as his cock hit the back of your throat.

“Shhh, doing so well, baby,” he cooed, sounding almost patronising as you let him continue to fuck his hips up into your mouth. “Atta girl, baby, gonna be taking me all in no time.”

.

[papaya-twinks]

no to a face reveal - l.n

Warnings: pornstar!reader, porn, smut, 18+

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

@arsenalfanf1 sorry it took so longggg

Lando had been single for a long time, and naturally, he’d resorted to the one thing that could help get him off when he needed it. His hand. But then he came across your page, and something about you…

You didn’t usually fuck other people, either fingering your self or using toys, but Lando was just drawn to how damn pretty you looked. Whether it was when you had your own fingers toying with your sensitive clit, or a dildo pressed inside of you.

And how long he sat in his chair, his hand hovering over the send message. “Fuck it,” Lando told himself, “just do it, for fucks’ sake,”. And he did so, sending you the message, before shutting his laptop lid immediately, right before opening it again.

unknown-user: Hey! I’ve been watching your vids for a while and I was wondering if you’d be interested in, maybe, doing it with someone else? As long as it has no face and stuff

But then, he saw your reply underneath. Jesus, you were quick to reply.

You: Hiii! I don’t mind to be honest, it would probably help with the viewing of my channel! Come to [address].

And he did so, arriving at the apartment in a black hoodie and black joggers, as you answered the door. Wow, this guy was hot. “Hi,” was all he said, sounding breathless. “Hello,” you said with a small smile, letting him walk in behind you.

“The camera’s set up,” you said almost nervously, shutting the door behind him as you led to him to your room. Wow, it was just like in the videos. Yet you were somehow even prettier. You didn’t say anything, clicking play as you positioned yourself on your hands and knees, waiting for Lando to stand in front of you.

The camera wasn’t high enough to see Lando’s face as he pushed his dick slowly between your lips, your eyes wide at the size, but you took it anyways, bobbing your head gently as he groaned. He’d fucking got off so many times to just the thought of your tongue sliding along his member, and here he was. Doing it for real.

You carried on, pumping him a few times with your hand before you sat back, working on tugging your skirt off, before he pushed you back forwards, pushing his cock inside you as you gasped. “Fuck,” you cursed as he pumped a few times to help you adjust, your eyes wide.

This was the good shit.

God you were close just from that. “Fuck,” you repeated, “shit,”. Lando groaned again, his own orgasm nearing as he sped up, clenching his hands in your top, bunching the material in his big hands as he held you still, your body shaking with each thrust. You moaned as you felt the sensation of your orgasm wash over, Lando cursing quietly as his own orgasm hit.

You: Over a million views. Wanna come back again? ;)

[eetherealgoddesss]

ꨄWebcam of Horrorsꨄ

Oneshot - Dark Content - Yandere - Webcam Pornstars

❦And you thought that you were the creep.❦

Cam Boys x Female Reader

❣︎Honestly, this is gonna be a long, fucked up story.❣︎

Not fully proofread

MY NON FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR UNDER EETHEREALGODDESSS AND ON WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable.

✩Characters are 18+ as always.

✩Everything/everyone are mine

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Webcam of Horrors

“That’s fucking perfect, Felix.” The male breathes out, voice echoing from the screen of your laptop. Your lips are shut tight as you gaze at the intense display of the two males you were keen on tuning in consistently.

The ray from the led lights flashed perfectly against the male’s glistening skin, sweat seeming to cast a perfect glow against his fit torso. Once his head falls back, you can see his adam’s apple bob once he swallowed, groaning before he bit his bottom lip. Both of his hands tangle through the red hair that covers his midsection as he thrusts his hips against the mouth engulfing his thick cock.

Once he sits back up, his eyes focus downward on the person known as Felix. His lips are slightly apart as he continues his grinding, one hand releasing the red head to grab his own milk chocolate curls. The wet noises line up perfectly with the steady rhythm the dyed haired male is bobbing, the upper part of his toned back facing the camera. The man known as Orson shifts his green eyes to the camera before he gives a mischievous smirk to the audience.

“You wanna see me cum, huh? You want him to swallow it all?” His hand now shifted to hold Felix’s long hair in a ponytail.

You ignore the chat’s comments as they speed with excitement, your own eyes widening as you eye the screen with awe. There’s a distinct shine to your eye and shiver in your body when you hear his husky voice that feels as though he’s speaking to you.

“Fuck.” You whisper as you press the higher button of the vibrator that buzzes around your clit, your comforter covering your body as you lie on the bed.

“Or should I cum on his pretty face? Tell me what you want me to do.” He moans out before his body tenses. His nose scrunches as his eyebrows furrow, teeth meeting his bottom lip once more as he tightens the grip on Felix’s hair, snatching his head off his cock as he looks down at him.

“What do you prefer, princess?” He smiles before bending over and reaching for the camera, turning it to display Felix’s face.

“Oh God.” You quietly moan out at the fucked out reddened face of the pretty male. His brown irises face the camera as his eyelids fall heavy. You can see the glistening of slobber and precum plastered around his mouth, his own skin shining against the light perfectly as his sweat glistens. Some strands of his hair stick against the front of his face. His mouth hangs open as he quietly breathes heavily.

“Want you to cum in my mouth.” He responds with his eyes still facing the camera, lips slightly swollen and red from the constant movement of deepthroating Orson’s thick girth. The chat’s comments once again appeared swiftly with exhilaration.

Orson repositions the camera to display his hardened cock falling against Felix’s face. The red haired male’s hand circled around the shaft before patting it against his tongue. He stares intensely into the camera as he sucks the tip of Orson’s cock before releasing once more.

“Please let him cum in my mouth. Don’t you wanna see me swallow it all?” He questioned in a sultry tone before giving kitten licks to the swollen dick.

You had to press the downward button on your vibrator to not release an orgasm right then and there. Their sessions were always so intense. Especially with this viewpoint. Your head falls back for a moment before eyeing the screen once more.

“Jesus.” You breathe out. The chat goes even faster as people give their answers quickly, desperately even.

Orson finally placed his cock back in Felix’s mouth as the man sucked him in. The steady pace from earlier becomes faster with more pressure in his hips as they meet with Felix’s lips. Brown eyes kept their eyes upward toward the camera, holding such a filthy fucking gaze as he took it all.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Orson breathes out behind the screen. His moaning went straight to your clit, as well as the toy once you pressed the higher button once more.

“Aw fuck.” Orson grunts, “I’m gonna cum.” Your legs tense against the bed as you became closer and closer to your own orgasm. Right when Orson held Felix’s head against his base with a final groan and thrust, you followed along with your own release, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you grind against the toy.

You breathe heavily as you come back to reality, just as Orson pulls Felix off his cock and releases him. The red haired man grabbed the camera and parted his lips to show the sticky white substance all over the inside of his mouth before closing his lips and swallowing the entire load.

Chuckling, he turned the camera to face a heavy breathing Orson who leaned back in his chair with an arm over his head. His cock is slowly becoming flaccid as he exhibits how clearly tired he is from the session. The camera turns back to Felix before he giddily smiles at the camera.

“Thank you for all the donations, chat. We really appreciate your support. Let’s see each other again soon, kay?” You groan as the live ends, post-nut clarity hitting you hard. You feel like such a creep watching these guys. Especially since you know exactly who they are. Well…technically you don’t since you just know of them, personally. You guys sit in some of the same classes at your college.

They’re pretty open with their identities considering they are also influencers. You’d think it’s dangerous to put yourself out there like that, especially being in a university but influencers and celebrities do it all the time anyway. Unlike their other fans you have known them since you three went to the same high school together when they first began their career.

University is probably a plan b for them considering their wealthy upbringing. You’ve been in the background since the beginning. You couldn’t help but be slightly jealous of their lifestyles. Of course, you have your own life, family, friends, and have even had some relationships. You have your own car and apartment. Your life isn’t terrible, but who else is able to live in a luxury apartment with luxury cars. Yes, you’re kind of a hater but at least you are aware of the unhealthy comparison.

You’ve seen people sucking up to them in the auditoriums and on campus grounds. It only made you roll your eyes at the pathetic view. It feels weird seeing people you grow up with become famous. And here you are, masturbating to them every other day. You really are classified as a true hater. Pathetic right?

You don’t even think they’re together. You’ve seen them pass through different girls and guys and even had some online drama between them and exes appear on your social media timeline without your consent, though they never respond to the drama or accusations of whatever petty shit randoms come up with. Considering your placement, you were not expecting the day where you would actually be put in the position to interact with them for a project.

“You’re Y/n, right?” Felix questioned. You ignored the way his sweater fell, exposing his shoulders. You also ignored his signature ponytail, a strand falling over his face elegantly.

“Yeah, and you’re Felix or Orson?” Damn, you get on your own nerves. You got so nervous that you overly thought about this interaction and asked him something that you already know. Awesome. At least you can blame it on the page that lists all the groups you were emailed by the professor. They shouldn’t know that you know which is which anyway.

“Yes.” He smiled. He was shorter than you thought he’d be, only standing a couple of inches above you now that you got to observe him up close. “This is Orson.” He introduced an aloof familiar face, a taller figure now standing beside him.

“Cool.” You nod awkwardly as you rub your hands against your pants. You are not usually such a stiff person but standing in front of two celebrity pornstars that you watch consistently is pretty intimidating. It didn’t seem to faze either males, if they even noticed it in the first place.

Felix proceeds to ask you for your number before he types it into his contact list and sets up a group chat for the three of you. You eye your phone at the text that was sent.

F: hey ;)

You add their contacts before you all set up a date for you to visit their apartment. The first meeting wasn’t so bad. You were in for a surprise when you stepped into the luxury apartment though, having not experienced any place like it. It had you thinking about making a webcam account yourself but of course that thought wasn’t serious.

Orson continued with his bored energy as he barely paid attention to any of the work you had to do, scrolling endlessly on his phone for the most part. Felix was keen on helping work through ideas and notes as you guys set up your powerpoint.

After a few routined visits you were a little annoyed by Orson’s attitude. Scratch that, you are pretty annoyed by his fucking attitude. It’s not fair for you and Felix to do all the work and you’d be damned to keep dealing with it.

“Orson, can you please get off your phone and help us with the project?” You didn’t understand why Felix never said anything. It didn’t really seem to bother him at all. The brown haired man seems to ignore you as he eyed his phone before he breathed out a sigh.

“You guys got it, don’t you?” Your breath hitched at his phrasing which reminded you of the last webcam video you had watched of them before this project began. You couldn’t bring yourself to continue watching the last few times they were live since you’ve been in such a close vicinity to them. A frown grows on your face before you clear your throat.

“Listen, you’re gonna help with this damn project. I am not about to get a bad grade on this just because you want to laze around. It’s also not fair for us to do all the work. Get your shit together and help right now.” You know that you’re probably being a little extra and maybe even a little bit of a bitch, but it’s the principle that counts. Right?

His eyebrows furrow before he placed his phone face down on the table and leaned over in his seat. His green eyes glare at you before a smirk forms on his face.

“What are you gonna do about it, huh?” Felix eyes both of you. His fingers slightly tightened against his pants as he gazed at the scene. He’s also curious as to what your answer’s going to be.

“I will inform the professo-.” You were interrupted before you could finish the sentence.

“The professor? You’re gonna tell on me, Y/n?” He chuckled, mocking you. “And you think he’s gonna believe two against one?” You gasp at the indication that Felix would lie for him.

“Felix you can’t be serious! You know that’s not fair.” His face falls on the palm of his hand as his heavy-lidded eyes gaze back at you.

“Can’t we just get back to work, Y/n? It’s not really worth your grade if we tell him the opposite, right?” Your eyebrows furrow before you begin gathering your stuff.

“You know what, fuck both of you.”

Honestly, your emotional outburst came from embarrassment. You were humiliated by the fact that you ever masturbated to two assholes like them. It’s so pathetic.

Two weeks have passed since the incident. You hadn’t heard from them nor had you spoken to the professor. You could only guess that they haven’t either since you haven’t been notified of anything from your instructor. However, you did notice that their seats are empty for today’s class. That is, until both of them stroll in about fifteen minutes into the lesson. Your instructor ignored them because most professors at your university don't care about tardiness.

Your eyebrows furrow when both men sit on either side of you, leaning back in their seats. Orson man spreads with his hands stuffed in his hoodie’s pocket as he stares at the screen of the professor’s projector. Felix sat with a leg and his arms crossed before you felt his gaze on you.

“Done with your tantrum?” He whispered.

“Tantrum? Are you kidding me?” You responded with a whisper-yell in disbelief.

“Yeah? I’d like to get back to the project, you know.” He stated with an unreadable expression.

“I’m going to talk to the professor today about switching groups.” Orson sighed in response to your claim.

“No you’re not. Quit bullshitting.” He rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“You there!” The professor pointed in your direction. Your eyes widened as you pointed to yourself to clarify, in which he nodded.

“Yes! Is there a reason you’re disrupting my class?” Your body tensed. You were so focused on all the heads turned back to you and the professor’s judging eyes that you didn’t see Orson and Felix slightly cover their mouths to hide their smiles.

“N-no sir. I’m sorry!” After you apologize, everyone’s attention shifts back to the front as your eyes slightly water with embarrassment, a burning lump in your throat. Your face is hot as you slightly scoot down in your seat from your knees touching to make yourself smaller.

“Especially not after that.” Orson whispered.

“Come over tonight at 7.” Felix whispered from your other side. You ignored both of them and kept your eyes on the screen.

So embedded within your own humiliation you failed to notice the gazes that eyed you up and down. The slight pout your expression holds, the discomfort in your features, and the appearance of the tenseness of your figure has caught their attention. Let’s just say, embarrassment and humiliation looks quite enticing on you.

The night went as well as it could. This time Orson actually paying attention to what you and Felix were doing when it came to the project. You were slightly more quiet than usual from the earlier embarrassment and also the last time you had been in their apartment.

“This is so boring. Let’s take a break.” Orson groaned out after an hour of you guys working on the project. Little did you know that statement alone would change your whole life.

Originally you had decided against it. Claimed you needed to get home even though you really had nothing planned. Without a care of what you were saying Orson had already left the office and hopped on the living room’s sofa. Felix lightheartedly talked you into coming along with them. Honestly, it wasn’t bad. The movie played in the background as Orson watched and Felix quietly asked you questions about yourself. You were suspicious at first and even questioned his sudden interest.

He explained that he wanted to get better acquainted with you as well as Orson even though he doesn’t act like it. So you played along. Months end up passing fairly quickly and you end up gaining a weird friendship with the stars. You’re nowhere near as close as you and your small set of friends are but it got to the point where you seemed to have regularly begun hanging out, even after the project was over. Orson even seemed to have slightly opened up to you as well.

They have invited you to a party that is full of influencers and other people within the same industries as them. It is someone else’s mansion and it is packed with people. Once you and your friends made it in, you were greeted by Felix.

“Hey, chérie!” You roll your eyes at his nickname he had been calling you for a while now.

“Hey princess.” You respond with the nickname you had called him in response to his title for you. Since Orson calls him that all the time, you knew that it couldn’t lead back to the webcam lives. He pulls you into a tight hug with a lit blunt in his hand. Honestly, Orson and Felix are some of the most handsy people you know.

His happy vibe dims once his dark eyes make contact with your friends before he goes back to normal. It was so quick that you thought you had imagined it.

“Drinks are at the bar over there!” He excitedly tells your friends as they smile back and look over in excitement. You follow as they begin to walk off. Before you can fully walk away, Felix grabs your arm gently.

“The real party is this way!” He yells over the crowd. You look back at your friends in concern but he pulls you along anyway. Once you make it upstairs, you see a smaller crowd of people, some in which you have seen pop up on your timeline with millions of interactions. You honestly couldn’t believe that someone who had no connections to the industry is surrounded by important people right now. It’s fucking with your nerves but you remind yourself that they’re all humans and so you shouldn’t give a fuck.

Your eyes widen when Felix pulls you to a table where people are snorting lines of cocaine, including Orson.

“Holy fuck.” You say quietly as Felix hands you the blunt.

“Relax, chérie.” He gives you his signature comforting smile before you take the blunt and suck in a large hit. After Orson finishes his sniff, he rubs his nose before looking at you. A slight smile fixed on his face.

“Hey, pumpkin.” He says before standing from his position to give you a hug. You respond with a “hey, Orson,” before you both get distracted by someone calling a few of you over.

Once everyone gets in their position, someone propositions the game Truth or Dare. Time passed as people switched around each other, daring some people to sniff a line, or for some people to make out, even for some to undress in front of everyone. A lot of crazy dares with barely anyone choosing truth. Once someone finally got to you, they dared you to do seven minutes in heaven with two random people.

You froze in your seat at the dare. You were slightly flabbergasted considering you had no clue who those people are. Both the man and woman seemed to have no problem with the circumstances and even began to get up from their seats. You were so focused on the couple that you missed Orson grabbing the collar of the guy who made the dare and leaned over to whisper in his ear. The stranger’s body tensed as his eyes widened from the words being growled in his ear.

“H-hold on! Actually I have a more interesting dare! Y/n, I dare you to do seven minutes in heaven with Orson and Felix!” He chuckled, playing off his nervousness. “It’d make for interesting content if ya record it.” He cheekily added on.

Your eyes widened slightly before you realized that you guys didn’t have to do anything crazy and could literally just sit in a closet for seven minutes. You got out of your own seat before both men locked arms with you on both sides, giving you their signature smiles. You only smiled back before heading to one of the nearest walk-in closets. Once you all walked in, the door closed behind you which caused you all to stand in darkness before Felix turned the light on. You chose a spot and sat down with your arms resting over your spreading legs, feet planted on the ground.

“Alright, so now we just sit here for seven minutes? We could totally sneak and grab some alcohol or something right?” You question as you watch Orson sit behind you with both legs on either side of you and Felix crawl in front of you. It was a position that you all had lied in before and it hadn’t bothered you. It was nothing sexual and you honestly found it hard to see them that way anymore since your friendship formed.

Arms snaked around your waist as your back was pressed against Orson’s torso. You were caught off guard when Felix pulled your thighs up, causing you to slide down as he grabbed your face with both hands.

“I’d like to try something else.” He said lowly, heavy eyes you hadn’t even seen during the close up webcam lives. You gasp when you feel the hands from behind grabbing your covered breasts.

“What are you doing! You can’t touch me there!” You exclaim before placing your hands on Felix’s shoulders to push him back.

“It’s just a game, Y/n. Don’t make it so weird.” Orson hissed before Felix met his lips with yours. Memories of the webcam lives you watched while masturbating came up as you tried to come to terms with this reality. This had actually been something you wanted for so long. Why ruin it now?

Both of your lips collided with each other passionately, slowly grinding the skin together as he pulled your bottom lip with his teeth. His tongue slithered inside your mouth as his hands forced you to slightly bob your head against his, sucking his tongue in the process which ripped a moan from his throat.

Orson eyed the display with lust as his hands moved under your top. You breathe heavily as your head is forced to turn when Felix releases your mouth and feathered slow, passionate kisses down your neck. Residue saliva leaks down your chin as Orson groped your bare breasts. He held one of the mounds while beginning to glide the other’s nipple between his index finger and thumb. Felix pulled your shirt up, revealing your crystallized nipples. Orson released your breasts to use one hand to grab your neck and the other to place on your scalp.

“Don’t take your eyes off of him.” Orson huskily said near your ear. You couldn’t believe what you were experiencing right now. You could barely even think clearly.

While eyeing you, Felix repositioned himself to blow over one of your nipples. He slowly glides his tongue up your nipple before flicking it against the tip of his muscle. The sensation sends a shock to your clit as you almost moan out.

“You want him to lick your pussy, don’t you?” Orson breathes out before the hand on your scalp glides down your torso. He rubbed the skin sitting under the lining of your pants as Felix’s lips closed around your nub, sucking the skin softly as he kept his gaze on you.

It’s all becoming too intense. You can feel the wetness of your vagina soaking your underwear. This should be completely enjoyable, but you can’t help feeling guilty. All you’ve done is sexualize your own friends who have always been human beings. Yes, it’s how they make their money, but now it all seems too personal.

“Wai-!” You cut yourself off when you feel Orson’s finger right on your clit. How’d he find it so fast? You felt him use some of your slick to easily rub the padding of his finger against your clit.

“Should I let him, Y/n?” You bit your lip to hold in your moan as his finger rubbed along your bud. Honestly you didn’t know a handjob could be so good. Unlike other men, he’s right on the spot that sends an electrifying pleasure throughout your body, causing your figure to tense and your hips to lift. Felix chuckled on your nipple before speeding up his kitten licks and closing his lips around your nub at a fast pace.

“Guys…” You groan out, as Orson rubs your clit in a specific pattern that has you pushing your head back against him, especially with the sensation adding to the pleasure coming from your nipple.

“I think you should take your meal, princess.” Orson smirked as he made eye contact with Felix. The red head hummed in agreement before releasing your nipple and kissing down your torso. Each connection causes a shiver to run down your spine.

“M’ gonna make you feel so good, chérie.” He said in a low tone, roughly pulling down your pants. You move to stop him, holding onto his arms.

“W-wait! It’s probably been seven minutes a-and we should probably stop!” You really didn’t want this friendship to take such a devious turn. Orson gripped your neck, immediately shutting off your airway as he tightly squeezed against you. Your eyes widened as your hands wrapped around his forearm. Your struggle to breathe caused your heartbeat to swiftly gain momentum.

Felix chuckled as his head tilted, watching you grapple to remove Orson’s hand from your throat. Tears form at the brim of your eyes as your legs attempt to close, though Felix’s body blocks them from doing so.

“You gonna behave?” Orson question against your ear. You couldn’t see it, but any amusement fell off his face. He was truly tired of you always acting out and resisting. It’s about time you begin to know your place.

“Stop moving and answer me, Y/n. Are you gonna fucking behave? I will literally make you pass out right now.” He threatened with his grip tightening once more. With the amount of pressure he’s holding against you, there was sure to be a dark bruise. You wondered if the coke had gotten to his brain. The pure enjoyment on Felix’s face was off putting. What the hell is wrong with them? Dark dots began to circle around your eyesight as your eyelids become heavy and your body became hot and sluggish. You finally nodded your head the best you could, resulting in Orson releasing your neck.

The tears fall fresh down your face as you come to terms with what just happened. You are ready to put your clothes back on in shame and leave. Your hands pull down your shirt, covering your breasts before you reach for your pants. Felix grabs onto your hand before giving you a look of disbelief.

“Come on, chérie. Don't be like that.” He groaned in disappointment before you swat his hand away.

“N-no you guys are weird fucking assholes.” Orson leans back against the wall with his arms crossed, allowing you to get dressed while Felix moves out of your way. They both wear bored expressions as you gather yourself and walk out. When you got downstairs, you found your friends and told them you wanted to leave.

It had been a couple of weeks since the incident and you had been avoiding the cam boys for a while now. Not only were you uncomfortable after the party, but the bruise hadn’t disappeared fully either. You’re currently sitting in the campus’s cafeteria with one of your friends as you talk about the situation.

“I don’t know when I’m going to talk to them. I might not ever.” You huff as you use the fork to play with the spaghetti on your plate.

“I honestly wouldn’t blame you. That’s so fucking weird.” F/n agreed with you as she brought the fork of salad to her mouth.

“Yeah. I’d just block them at this point.” The slam of the cafeteria door opens, catching the attention of you, your friend, and the few people in the vicinity. Your eyebrows furrow when you see both of the men you hadn’t wanted to run into walking straight towards you.

Both of them pull seats to the same table as you and your friend before sitting down like they owned the place.

“What’s your fucking problem?” Orson questioned you. You couldn’t see under the table, but Felix was scratching the skin of his pants as he eyed you with concern.

“No, what’s your fucking problem?!” You reversed back. There’s no way that you’re just going to let them turn this all on you.

“This isn’t a game, Y/n. You’ve been ignoring and avoiding us for too long. You need to get a fucking grip.” Felix hissed, his nails digging deeper into the fabric.

Their eyes… there’s something deeply wrong with their eyes. The feeling in your stomach twisted, making you want to retreat. Something is deeply wrong with these people.

“L-look. I don’t want any beef, but I don’t want to be friends with you anymore. I don’t want to talk or hang out or anything. You guys crossed a line and I’m just not comfortable with it.” Your breath hitched as the hairs on your skin stood tall. You felt like a deer that just caught onto a predator approaching. Something… something is deeply amiss. Something is off about their presence… their eyes. You can’t pinpoint it but you know you need to stay away from them.

They just stare at you. They stare at you like you just declared war against them and their family. They stare at you like they want to literally jump across the table and fuck you up. It honestly looks like they might even want to kill you. Your friend sits to the side uncomfortably before she breathes out at the intense situation.

“Can you guys leave now? She’s already made herself cl-!” Before she could finish her two scents, you both jolt at the loud noise that rings from Orson slamming his fists on the table before leaning towards you over the table. All the while, Felix’s nails pierce through the fabric as they drag across the bare skin of his thighs, blood beginning to appear as he stares at you with this desperately disgusted look on his face.

“You’re gonna regret this. I’ll have you on your knees begging for our forgiveness, Y/n.” Orson says calmly before standing up and walking away, Felix walking right next to him. You release a shaky breath once they leave while your friend sits in silence along with you.

After that moment, you felt as though eyes were on you wherever you went. You barely left your apartment during spring break. Your friend that knew about the situation had come to visit you a few times since the incident but you hadn’t heard from her in a couple weeks since the last time she came over.

You also hadn’t heard anything from the guys nor received any messages from them. You hadn’t even seen them in person for a while either. Out of curiosity, you decide to enter their webcam live one night. You were utterly confused when you saw that instead of them recording to the public and a full chatlog, you were in a private live. Your eyebrows furrow in concern.

You viewed the empty room that’s usually a decorated bedroom with led lights, only to see that it’s much darker and looked to be the inside of a rusty warehouse. You had no clue what was going on but the drop in your stomach warned you that it was nothing good. After sitting for about ten minutes with nothing on screen, the sound of a door finally opened before you heard someone walk in. You watched as the masked figure of the person entered the camera’s view.

“Finally got the notification that you were on.”

You could only stare at the screen with your instincts heightened as you began to feel paranoid and unsafe within your own surroundings. The voice changer the person you could only guess was one of the guys used was octaves deeper, making everything even more creepy.

“As someone who used to be one of our biggest supporters, I have a special surprise for you.” He said before he walked off camera. Once he returned back in view, you gasped and covered your mouth when you saw his hands tangled in your friend’s hair as he pulled the top of her head into view. You honestly couldn’t tell if she was dead or not, your vision only seeing the part of her closed eyes and nothing below. Tears began to fall out of your eyes as your whole body trembled at the scene.

“She talked way too fucking much.”

“Oh god!” You exclaimed when he pulled up her severed head. Displaying on your screen was half of your friend’s face, the lower half completely gone, someone clearly having sliced through her entire jaw and mouth, only the top of her mouth showing at the bottom. There was no fresh blood and her skin was purple. She must’ve been dead for a while.

“Oh god, oh god please! Holy fuck!” You are hysterical, tears and snot falling freely as you hold onto your torso. “N-no fucking way!” You cried from the bottom of your gut. You couldn’t stop the vomit from splattering on the floor, falling to the ground yourself. The memory in your head is completely unreal as you continue to vomit.

“Come on, pumpkin. This is nothing to get sick over.” Your hand shook as you froze over your own mess. He can see you? You finally look up at your doorway and see another masked figure standing there with a camera gazing at you.

“O-oh god! St-stay the fuck away from-!” You release more vomit as you gag and move back, puke staining your own clothes as you continue to weep.

“Oh, chérie. You’re such a mess.” The person in your room says before walking toward you.

“Please don’t kill me!” You sob out, terrified out of your goddamn mind. You wanted to be tougher. You wanted to stand up to them, but you couldn’t. You knew you were too weak. You were so fucking scared. Pathetically scared.

Camera close up on your ruined face and all, the man in your bedroom crouches down without a care of the vomit and holds your chin gently with his gloved hand.

“Awe Pumpkin, all you have to do is be good for us. That’s all we want.” The man on the laptop cooed, chuckling before shutting the live off from his side. The man in your room lowers the camera to the clean part of the ground and caresses your face with both gloved hands while you continue to sob.

“You were so mean to us.” He mockingly whined, removing the voice changer and his mask.

Felix gave you a fake frown before pressing his nose and forehead against yours. You could only continue sobbing.

“You’re gonna behave, right chérie?” You could only pathetically nod in response. You wonder how they even found out about your webcam identity. How did they find out? It didn’t matter now. You’re stuck for as long as they want you to be.

“Isn’t she perfect, princess?” Orson breathes out behind you as the sound of his cock glides in and out of your ass at a steadily fast pace. His hand is placed on the back of your neck as you cry out from the fullness of both ends, your head falling on Felix’s shoulder as he plows into your pussy from under your sweaty body. His lips are parted as he desperately fucks into your pussy, the head of his cock consistently beating against your g spot as he holds you in place, chasing his high.

“Fuck. Yes. M’ gonna cum soon.” Felix’s voice is shaky as his head falls back, his face covered in pure bliss. He’s grinding into you relentlessly.

The chat runs wild with excitement as they watch you from wherever they have their set up. They hungrily devour the men taking advantage of your body, feeding onto the filthy pleasure they’re viewing.

You couldn’t hold back your groans and cries, tears falling down your face at the cocks sliding in and out of both your holes. You hate that it felt good, the pain and the pleasure, the intensity of being watched by numerous people, the position of being forced to take it all in. It was so intense and you’ve never felt anything like it. It sucked to love it, but you know that the pleasure is only for a moment. Once you’re done with the high of your orgasm, the pit in your stomach will return along with the numbness of your emotions. You hated it. You hated it all.

The trauma lingers within you and the only people you can turn to are the people who caused it in the first place, constantly giving you a false sense of comfort just to keep you tied to their bounds. When will it end? If it ever ends.

You all cry out at the same time as your pussy tightens around Felix’s cock. While you release an orgasm, the men engulf your insides with semen. You lie there in their arms, full of cum as it leaks from inside you.

After a moment of deep breathing, Orson removes himself from behind you and walks to the camera, bringing it towards you and Felix as he hugs you from below. After a moment he turns the camera back to himself as he smiles cheekily at the strangers.

“We’re so fucking worn out, chat. Thanks for always joining us. We’ll see each other again soon.”

[apoemaday]

Unhappy Hour

by Richard Siken

Going to a party where I knew you’d be, dudes bobbing for boyfriends, eyes shining like candy apples. I want to be a lamppost, or the history of plumbing. I am tired of being mysterious. You are drinking rum next to the laughing skullheads and I am unhappy because I am dead and I miss you. Once a year, day of the dead, you think you’d think of me more often. These people shoulda dressed up as their best selves to mix and mingle in the courtyard garden. If everything is green then why do I feel so blue? I would like to be a plain-faced man, living with you quietly. Leave the party but you can’t hear me you can no longer hear me. The dead are boring. Enlightenment is boring. We can read the minds of dogs. We make the black cats scatter across the grass. There is a better party where I am not a ghost and you are not Aquaman. I am like a pornstar, we are all of us pornstars aching to get back into our terrycloth robes. Gives me a headache, all this intellectual stimulation. It’s cold out tonight. I am here by the back wall, in the museum of the afterlife. I would like to be a flickering cowboy. I like the live music -- we only get the recorded stuff here. I would like to be alive again. I would like to say something about grace.