sideblogofhell

[sideblogofhell]

let the light in

summary: you invite your neighbor for dinner, surely that's everything that happens right? pairing: joel miller x male reader warning: male reader smut! (sorta unprotected scenario–use protection wisely!)

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It’ll be good for you. Is what your uncle said to you when he asked you to house sit for him for the whole summer.

You convinced yourself he was right–that being away from the city could be good for you, alleviating some of that stress that’s been building up for some time ever since you graduated college. You could pick up a job at the local bookstore or mow people’s lawns, before entering the actual workforce in some corporate job in the city. It’ll be nice, it has to be. 

Or not. With a loud thud your stuff scattered all over the driveway. “Fuck!” you yelped, anxiously picking up the fallen books, the cardboard box labelled “desk stuff” ripped from getting moved. Your back already ached from all the work, your skin wet and sticky from the blazing sun. Thankfully, a pair of hands helped you with the task. 

“Shit–you don’t have to, it's fine,” you scrambled, picking up more stuff faster. 

“It’s alright, bud,” the man said, the southern accent rolling off his tongue like fresh honey. You quickly glanced at him, clad in a worn out shirt, denim jeans, and leather boots. His broad frame eclipsed your pens and markers from the sun, his calloused hands picked the tools with a swiftness that made you think he worked at a workshop or a construction site. It didn’t help that his thick arms flexed, filling the hems of the shirt. 

“Thank you,” you answered, your voice was hoarse and shaky. He lifted his tousled brown hair to reveal a handsome face, covered in a stubble of brown and grey. Damn, you thought, he looked like those men they put in cowboy eroticas you saw in the airport bookshop. “You must be, Joel.”

“Damn, right,” he said, a cheeky smile plastered across his face. He took some more stuff from the floor, bending down to the point where his shirt was hiked up revealing the elastic band of his underwear. Dude–stop looking, you told yourself. “You must be the new kid here, housesitting for you uncle right?”

He met your gaze, wide brown eyes with furrowed brows. “Hardly a kid anymore,” you jest. Joel toyed with the markers, trying to think of a clever comeback. You stared at him, like truly stared at him. Despite all the marks of age he really was handsome, it made you think what he looked like when he was in his late twenties. There was a wash of melancholy in his face, as if time had done him the worst of challenges. 

When Joel twisted on the cap of one marker it started to buzz, a quiet vibrating sound that only you two could hear. Your eyes widened, it wasn’t a marker per say, but a sex toy that looked like a marker. With your mouth agape and your finger joints shaking, you snatched the toy from his hand, your skin brushing against his. 

“Seems like it,” he said smirking, proud of his comeback. You instantly hid it in your back pocket and proceeded to pick up more stuff. He couldn’t come up with his next retort, anxious that he might have embarrassed you. “You know, stuff like that wasn’t really in during my time, but I respect young couples trying out new stuff.” 

You cringe in horror, what the hell just happened right now. “I’m so sorry, Joel,” you said, avoiding his gaze. 

“Is alright,” he put his hands on his hips. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see a thing,” he smiled, the way he said thing made you chuckle. 

“What’s funny?” He was dumbfounded. He resorted to folding his arms across his wide chest; the veins on his arms more prominent. You could see the edge of his shirt life, a small trail of hair being visible. 

“Nothing!” you stuttered. “Maybe I could invite you for dinner? As a thank you for helping me,” you looked at the trees behind him. “And as an apology for what you saw,” your fingers dug into your palms leaving moon shaped marks.

Joel managed to help you bring everything inside the house. He volunteered to help you unpack too, but due to what happened earlier, you chose to leave the task to yourself, in hopes of not uncovering more private stuff. 

The night settled in. The steak and vegetables you prepared were already devoured by your neighbor. “Did I tire you that bad?” you said, finishing up the last bits of your steak. He gave you that cheeky smile again, a smile you slowly got to admire. He wiped his lips with a napkin, taking a sip of the wine he brought as a housewarming gift. 

“Big appetite,” he said. “You have to have one if this is the type of food you’re gettin,” you were glad. If you wanted to have more chances of seeing and talking to Joel, might as well lure him with good food. “Thank you by the way, and trust me whatever I saw earlier is never gettin’ brought up' again.”

“Shit, I thought the food already made you forget,” he laughed, that type of dad and his friends at the backyard laugh. The two of you proceeded to finish the whole bottle of wine while discussing your lives. You told him about your summer plans, he recommended some stores that were looking for people. He told you about his job too, he owned a small construction company. 

As the moon went deeper in the night, the neighborhood was more silent. Maybe it was the wine but the topics became deeper as well. He asked if you had a girlfriend, you told him you didn’t and that you weren’t interested. Although he was hesitant at first, he decided to confide in you that he was divorced and his daughter would be spending the summer with his ex-wife. 

Joel was deep in thought after talking about his daughter, his eyes more reflective, possibly tears. He cleared his throat and stood up, drying his sweaty palms on his jeans. “I should go, the wine is messin with me,” he lets out an anxious laugh. At this moment, the two of you didn’t feel like strangers. You could feel the sadness in his gaze, the way his lips quivered and his hands shaked. 

You walked him back to his house. It was you who broke the silence, Joel busy with finding the right key. “I’d like to thank you for today,” he looked back and smiled. “Sorry if the conversation got a little too personal, but from what I’ve heard, I think you’re a great dad.” 

He huffed, the warm air flowing against the cold night. He took your hand, it was rough and feverish. You inched towards him, his back hitting the closed door. You touched his cheek, the stubble pricking your palm. The kiss was sweet, cozy, and much needed. 

Joel’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. Maybe it really was the alcohol, and surely this was just a casual thing. Tomorrow, you’ll go back to being neighbors, say hi, maybe exchange quick chats, but nothing more. Deep inside, you wished it became more. Maybe ask him out, more dinners, watch movies, dates, like a lot of dates. With casual kissing, and hopefully, fucking. 

Your hands slid down his chest and reached finality in his belt buckles, one hand pulling on the loops while the other palmed his growling erection. He flinched, pausing from kissing to let out an exasperated moan. “Wait,” he said, his breaths heavy. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes,” it was the clearest yes you’ve ever given someone. 

A path of your clothes trailed towards his bedroom. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights, the moonlight was enough for you to see his body, all the hard muscles, the veins, the softness of his abdomen, and the trail down his hard cock. Despite how reckless the steps leading up to this moment was, Joel gently laid you on his bed. You lost yourself in his dark eyes, they were half lidded now, solemn but wanting. 

His soft curls laced through your fingers, your thumbs rubbing against his ears. The kisses turned from soft kisses to longer drabs of tongue, hungrier and more carnal. He took time to trace each part of your body as well, your waist, your sensitive nipples, your thighs that he pulled so he could place himself in between. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice deep and hoarse. 

“You too,” he gave you one last deep kiss before he slowly pulled your boxers off. You felt a bit conscious of the way you looked. A few hours ago you were just strangers, and now you’re naked in his bed. He kissed your neck, taking short suckles of skin down to your collarbone. His hands were busy stimulating you elsewhere. He touched your sex, now aching and dripping with precome. 

Joel rocked his hips at your center, his erection rubbing against yours. He took his boxers off, revealing the thick hardon he’s been sporting since you entered the house. You stroked it with a dry hand, his precome dripping and lubricating your strokes. He tried to fight the sounds that were brimming at his throat, but alas they came out with carnal grunts. “That feels too fuckin’ good.”

“I want it inside me, Joel,” you pleaded, focusing on using the wetness to your advantage by toying with the sensitive head. He bent his nightstand drawer, there were some old pieces of screws, an old broken watch, a bottle of lotion, and tissue. He knew he didn’t have any, there was no use for him since he hasn’t been with anyone since the divorce, he did it to assure you he wasn’t lying about having any.

“Shit–I don’t have any condoms,” he said, palming his head. You pulled him back for a kiss before pushing him to his back. Straddling his thighs, you continued to stroke his hard cock. His lips were open, his chest heaving and breathless. The veins on his neck were more visible as he tried his best not to cum from your touch. 

“It’s fine,” you said. His cock oozed with more precome, you used some spit to prepare your hole. You know from his thickness it would sting, but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make. “I’m on PrEP, don't worry.” 

Joel let out a sigh of relief. He guided his cock to your hole, letting out a guttural moan as you bottomed out. You took a deep breath, easing the sting of you adjusting to his size. He looked at you with so much lust you swear you would have mistaken it for love. How badly did you wish for this to be your everyday? The wine must have really fucked with you for you to think you could be his stay at home boyfriend. 

“I’ll move now,” you murmured. Fuck, Joel thought. The heat and tightness of your hole was already intoxicating. You started to rock your hips, his grip on your waist tighter. He felt more of his soul was being sucked out of his body, his cock felt so good fucking into your hole.

“That feels so fuckin’ good,” his thighs quivered. Each slap of your ass on his hip made Joel feel like he would die in any minute. His heart was pounding in his chest, his cheeks felt hot, he was dazed beyond inhibition. “Can’t get enough of this.”

“Me too,” you squeezed your eyes shut, taking in the feeling of his cock stretching you open. “You’re so fucking big,” you rid his cock faster, the tip aggressively hitting the sensitive spot inside you. 

“Feels better than that toy you got, huh?” For months you had that toy to use, substituting the feeling of a real man inside you. At this point, you forgot you even had one, all you wanted from this day on was Joel. 

“Oh, god,” you were flushed with timidity and lust. You were close, you could already envision your come all over his broad chest, leaving his skin glistening with your arousal. “I’m close, Joel.”

“Go’n come too, baby,” he said, the southern drawl was even more sensual, more provocative, more sexy. His body tensed, a hoarse cry left his mouth, he shot his come, filling you with the warm liquid. 

The knot inside you snapped with a loud cry, your come shooting all over Joel’s chest up to his beard. You cursed, dropping to his chest while catching your breath. Your chests shared in the wetness, and in one last act of perversion, you licked the come on his beard and joined his tongue in a heated kiss. 

Everything that happened after was a haze. After Joel was able to catch his breath, he went to the bathroom to take a towel, cleaning himself off and gently cleaning you up. The two of you joined in embrace and let the slumber cuddle you. 

You woke to his soft snores in your ear, his arms still wrapped around you. The stirring of your bodies made his sex brush against your ass, like the night before it was already aching hard. "Someone's eager this morning," you said.

"Why wouldn't I, I still need to use that toy on ya," he murmured, brushing his cock against your ass again, smiles plastered across your faces.

end.

tag list: @hellsburners @boypied

[sideblogofhell]

under the heat

summary: a tiny hiccup during a photoshoot leads to big surprises pairing: michael b jordan x male reader warning: male reader smut!

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The light boxes in the photoshoot were hot and blinding. Sweat dripped down your nape making your skin feel weird and uncomfortable.

The photographer yelled at the staff to get the AC unit fixed before he thrashes the whole set. You held a small fan pointed at the model, growing envious of his comfort—the way his skin was dry and his breaths at ease, you let out an audible sigh.

“Maybe you’d wanna point that to yourself,” he said, a wide smile plastered across his face. In different circumstances you might have found him funny, but the heat weighed on you. You gave him a fake smile, and went on to stare blankly at the wall, conjuring the image of your soft bed at home. “No like for real, you look like you’re gonna pass out.”

Of course he’d say that, sitting in the middle of the room with nothing but Calvin Klein boxers on; Which, you thought, looked good on him. The hems of his underwear stretched on his thick thighs, the garment well filled with his package you might add. Not that you stared at it. Of course not. 

“I’m fine, sir,”  you answered, swallowing dry before resting a hand on your hip. Sweat started to bead in your temples, the room slowly turning hazy. 

“You sure?” he flexed his muscular arms to fan his hands at you, you swore they were as thick as your head. You nodded, the world looked like it was spinning from the movement. In one moment you looked at his broad chest, and the next you could only see his ankles—the floor against your whole body bringing you to sleep. 

You woke up to a different room, much smaller and colder. Cold air brushed on your face like an ice bath. Michael was holding the fan in front of you and he wasn’t almost naked anymore, he was covered in a black robe. 

You cursed, touching your aching forehead as he passed you a bottle of water. “They’re still fixing the AC, the photographer is going fucking crazy,” he said, taking a swig of his waterbottle. 

“He’s like that all the time,” you straightened your back, anxious of being this close to him. “I’m surprised he hasn’t imploded yet.”

He laughed, the robe undoing as he did revealing the hard contours of his abdomen. You choked on the water, startling him. You’ve been near celebrities for most of your job, but being this close to Michael and seeing his handsome face and the defined muscle covering his whole body, you couldn’t help but admire. “You like what you see?” he said, untying the rest of the robe to reveal the boxers underneath, sporting a semi-hardon. 

“What?” you stuttered, you couldn't believe what you’re experiencing. A part of you wants to drop down on your knees and say yes, but the moral voice inside your head was grasping for an ethical answer. He spreads his legs wider, his hand palming the erection. 

“Shit’s still not going, might as well get something out of it,” he said, groaning as his hardness peeked through the elastic band. It was thick, the print of it was evident through the cotton. Your throat went dry, the sweat dried up, and a sharp chill ran down your spine. “So?”

You gently stroked his clothed sex eliciting a deep grunt from his mouth. Pulling down the elastic to touch the hardness, you couldn’t comprehend how thick it was. You cursed, stroking his heated cock with eagerness. 

“Yeah, just like that,” Michael said, pulling his head back on the small couch. His hand wrapped around your waist pulling you closer. Beads of precome glistened the tip of his cock, you toyed with it, the wetness on the sensitive head made him tightly hold onto your shirt. He squeezed his eyes while while trying to hold back a moan. “Why don’t you suck it for me,” he requested, guiding your head down to his crotch. 

The cotton was taut on the hardness. It took quite a bit of effort to pry it out to its full glory. Your mouth was left agape, a long vein ran across the shaft leading to the aching tip, already beading with precome. Taking in a deep breath you braced yourself for its size. You first toyed with the head, kissing and licking while tasting the saltiness of his arousal. Taking your time, Michael let out a guttural moan as you took him in, gagging at the girth. Tears started to well, your jaw aching when you let out a choked cough. 

“Fuck–just like that,” he said, his lips swollen from biting. You let his cock out with a pop, passionately staring right back at him as you engulfed his length. He takes hold of both sides of your face, guiding each stroke of your lips. His eyes spoke to you with lust, which only motivated you to hollow your cheeks making the suction stronger. While his cock was in your mouth, you used your tongue to stroke his shaft, licking the border to the head.  “You take that cock so well, boy.”

“It’s so thick,” you said, peppering the shaft with kisses. Michael’s view was impeccable, tears down your cheeks, your lips swollen and glistening with saliva. He put a hand behind his head in a state of bliss, another hand on your head helping bob on his cock. You used two hands to stroke while tasting his precome. The sheer panic brewing inside your chest, that in any moment someone could come in, was enough for you to suck on it with more vigor. “Stand up, I wanna fuck you now.”

He helped  undress you, each garment thrown somewhere inside the trailer. You planted your hands on the sofa, your knees sinking on the cushion. A drop of saliva falls to his hand, the other holding onto your hip. He strokes himself before steadily sheathing his cock inside you, stretching the tight muscle. You yelped, squeezing your eyes shut while your fingers dug into the fabric of the sofa.

Once his base hit the curve of your ass his arms wrapped around your waist, his neck licking and kissing your neck up to your ear. He pulled back, your muscles relaxing from the absence. He quickly thrusts himself back in, you gasp at each stroke. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

The small room filled with the sounds of your cries and his deep grunts, the trailer practically rocked from the pounding. Your body tensed and ached in all the right places, your lower back hurting the most from the arching. Michael fondled the roundness of your ass, marvelling at how it jiggled. You tried to match his pace, rolling your hips to stroke his cock. 

The noise abruptly stopped after a knock on the door. “Mr. Jordan? We can start the shoot in 5 minutes, we sincerely apologize for the delay,” your co-worker said. Michael didn’t stop fucking you by the way. The slaps of his skin on yours was still loud, he simply covered your mouth and bit his lip in a poor attempt to quiet your voices. 

“Yeah, I’ll come,” he said, your hole felt so warm and tight it made him roll his eyes. “I’ll come in a bit.” 

“That good, huh?” you said, your voice shaking. Your co-worker probably left already. He steadied his grip on your waist, pounding as hard as he could, the sweat covering his body making his muscle glisten under the light. 

“You have no fucking idea,” his thrusts became erratic, a series of strong slaps of skin and thickness stretching your hole. The head of his cock rubbed sensually on the sensitive spot inside you, making you inebriated by your inhibition. “I’m so fucking close. You ready?”

You nodded, your breaths already labored. Michael reached his climax with slow loud claps, his warm come flooding your insides. He collapses on your back, his broad frame hot and sticky on your skin. 

“I don’t think I can come out there like this,” Michael whispered after a few minutes, his breathing slowly becoming more stable, his cock still buried inside you. 

You take his hand and place it on your sex, already wet with your own release. The warmth of his body felt so sensual that you were hungry for more. “Maybe they can wait for a bit more too,” you tempted, rocking your hips to tease him. 

“They absolutely can,” he said, kissing your lips while his cock hardened again. 

end.

tag list: @hellsburners @boypied

[sideblogofhell]

jealousy, jealousy

summary: bucky doesnt get an answer when he asks you if you're jealous. word count: 1.4k warnings: 18+ warning, gay smut, top bucky barnes

masterlist

The air inside the apartment was cold against your damp skin. You tied the bathrobe around your waist and stepped outside with dripping wet hair. Bucky was in the kitchen looking at news on his phone while eating chips with salsa. It drips on his crisp white shirt, he notices but doesn’t mind. 

“Bucky, that’s Valentino!,” you said in an annoyed tone. He flinches from the sound of your voice, quickly taking a paper towel to wipe off the stain. You take a damp kitchen towel and help him rub on the stain. “You know Val is totally going to kill you for this.”

“She can try,” he smirks, playfully placing a kiss on your cheek. You laugh as you take the shirt off him, revealing the white sleeveless shirt that hugged his muscular body. He smelled of fresh linen and lavender with a deeper warm musk. The phone on the counter pings with another notification, a text from Mel about new intel. 

“You seem to talk to her a lot these days,” you said, biting the inside of your cheeks. 

“She sent information about that new black-ops team in Madripoor,” he said, his eyes fixated on the mobile device. The phone pings again, an incoming call from Mel. “Excuse me, I’ll just take this call,” You take his stained shirt to the laundry room while he takes the call. There was a faint laugh down the hall, a familiar deep voice that you’ve grown to love; Bucky was laughing with her. You slammed the washing machine door shut, fleeing the room to get dressed. 

The talking stopped, you took this as a sign to go back, probably to get some food, but really to look at Bucky—look at his eyes and see if there was more to the conversation. Irrational voices in your head make it seem like he would cheat on you, but his gaze, his words, his actions never really showed any red flags. 

“Do you want anything for dinner?”  he asked, cleaning up the snack he ate up. You were silent, not able to utter a word without feeling shame for even thinking about him in that way. The room remained quiet for a few seconds. Worry struck Bucky. He took your face, his eyes a cold blue staring at you. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, maybe Chinese takeout?” you said, your cheeks warm. 

“Are you,” he said, a smirk forming on his lips, “jealous?” You pushed him away with a playful annoyance. He pulls your hips close, peppering your neck and cheeks with kisses. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous,” he lifted you up so that you were sitting on the kitchen counter, his lips already in yours. 

You squirm in his embrace, his large hands traced your back. His stubble was rough against your skin, small pricks tickled your skin. Bucky loved touch. He would often touch your hand while watching movies in the living room, kissing your hand and smelling it. He loved hugging you from behind while you cooked in the kitchen, leaving soft kisses on your nape, his body warm against yours. 

“I’m not jealous,” you murmured. His calloused hand went under your shirt, he knew each curve, each dimple, each spot that made your moan and turn. His fingers find your nipples, his thumbs toying with the sensitive nub. You let out a gasp, his lips sucking on the skin bordering your neck and collar bone. 

“Don’t believe you,” he said. His warm lips were enough to make you feel weak, but his stubble sent buzzes that made your eyes roll back. He pulled on the drawstrings of your sweatpants, pulling off the garment with your underwear leaving you half naked. “I’ll ask again,” his tone was more serious and commanding. “Are you jealous?”

He touched your growing erection with his metal hand, it was hard and cold. You weren’t used to him using it on you. Other than being right handed, Bucky was unsure if he would be able to exert too much strength on your body. You saw how the vibranium arm could punch through trucks and walls with ease. You were speechless, just perverted cries. 

“So no answers, huh?” he whispered in your ear, his tongue toying with the skin. You nodded, a part of you was assured he wouldn’t—he couldn’t, he would never. “I’ll just get it out of you then.” 

He sucked on two of his metal fingers. The image was lewd and erotic that it made your cock leak. He gestured for you to do the same so you licked and sucked on his fingers as well. Bucky felt his cock stir inside his pants, he was excited to make you beg. 

He traced the rim of your hole, the wetness was unfound and uncomfortable at first, but he slowly pressed on the muscle making you writhe. His other hand was steady on your back, his lips never leaving your mouth. With stifled breaths he sheaths his fingers inside you making you gasp. 

First, he waited for you to adjust, your muscles relaxed while your cheeks grew hot. He, then, curled his fingers as if pulling you in, touching your prostate that drew out the most obscene cries. Your arms wrapped around his neck for balance, your face scrunched up as he went faster. 

The sounds of vibranium sheets and gears turning and moving from fast motions were eclipsed by your cries. He was relentless, the sensation made your vision hazy and your knees weak. You cursed and called on his name multiple times. He whispered, “I could never choose anyone other than you, no one could give me cries this sweet.”

“Bucky—” you heaved, tears dripping down your face. Your cock leaked so much it was dripping down on the marble counter. Without even being touched you felt yourself come closer to climax. “I’m close,” you said. Bucky was surprised, he has never seen you cum untouched. 

“Uh huh,” he said in a teasing tone. “You haven’t answered my question,” he splits his fingers into a V helping loosen the muscle. “If you don’t answer I’ll just leave you here.”

“Yes—fuck—yes!” your cock was rock hard and throbbing, precome dripping and dripping in all over your center. “Please, Bucky, I need to come.” 

He smirked, continuing to stimulate your prostate with an unrelieved pace. You hugged him closer, your legs trembling before you drew your head back in a loud cry. Your come shoots all over your abdomen, your chest relieved from the breathlessness. 

After a few minutes of being in Bucky’s embrace, with both arms wrapped around you while you nestled your face on his shoulder, he carried you to the bedroom. He places you on the bed with his large frame looming over you. He was gorgeous under the warm lights, his long hair falling on his face. He takes off his shirt unveiling hard muscle. He had gone from being lean to a beefier frame. 

You traced each ridge on his abdomen until you reached his trousers. You helped unbutton them before he pulled them down , revealing his aching hardness. Like every other part of Bucky’s body, his cock was thick and big, something you weren’t really sure worked to your favor—he was, as usual, very gentle with it. 

He kissed you once more, this time more heated. His lips trace your neck, down to your clavicle, then down to your chest, and finally to your hardened nipples. He hungrily sucked and licked on them which made your skin electrified with pleasure. Your fingers dug into the linen sheets as you cried out his name.  

“I think you can give me one more, baby,” he stared up at you with his tongue tracing up to your nipples, meanwhile his metal fingers entered you again. His other hand went to stroke your cock, which was already hardening from all the touch. “Right?” 

You nodded, even though you already felt weak. He kissed and sucked on your nipples while stroking your cock and fingering your prostate. The immense pleasure and sensory overload you were experiencing felt like your soul was slowly ascending away from your body. You let out moans of pleasure, and although your body felt like it was being unravelled to its bareness, to its most carnal desires, you still wanted him to go further. 

You came, once more, then another, and another. 

The bed was drenched with sweat, tears, spit, and come. You convulsed and draped all over his arms. “That was,” you tried to catch your breath, “the most intense thing I’ve ever experienced.” 

“Still jealous?” he said, kissing your forehead. You dig your face on his chest and chuckled. 

end.

[sideblogofhell]

— joel miller loved that you were taking pictures during your trip to his hometown. it assured him that this wasn't boring for you and that you actually enjoyed the scenery and the tour of their family's farm. he was extra thrilled when you stayed the night in his childhood home, no one really lived there anymore other than tommy (he had commitments in jacksonville, hence the vacancy).

— before bed he had started a fire on the hearth, sharing a finger of whiskey while playfully taking photos of him. "that camera's go'n break if you keep takin' pictures of me," his accent stronger by each shot. you said something about how pretty he was and how you couldn't stop it even if you wanted to. "well somebody's go'n have to take some of your pretty face, darlin'"

smut undercut

— he takes the camera from you and takes a few shots, you timidly hide your face, laughing at how cute he was at trying to find 'the perfect shot'. maybe it was the whiskey, but the two of you found yourselves in each other's arms, lips locked, tongues laced in each others warmth, intoxicated by the coziness and the heat.

— "look at this pretty face," he murmured while taking pictures of your naked body, his mouth had done its work of leaving marks—showing whoever will see these images that he was the one responsible for marking you. "all f'me," he grunts as he enters you.

— you took pictures of him while straddling his thick thighs, tensed and hardened by a day's work, he smelled of alcohol and musk, his skin golden and his facial hair unkempt— he looked so beautiful.

— he took pride in pleasuring you, that despite his age he could still spend hours drawing out loud and obscene cries from your lips. "you take me so well, baby" his muscular arms flexing and while he held your waist, he took the camera and took pictures of you with closed eyes, moaning and whimpering from his cock. he took pictures of the his thick cock ceaselessly fucking your hole. "look how pretty your hole is takin' me, like it was fuckin' meant for my cock,"

— the old creaking of his wooden bed frame concludes with a shared grunt. the two of you in each other's arms covered in sweat, tears, and come. he takes the camera for the last time and points it on the both of you, "this way we ain't forgetting this perfect night," sharing one last languid kiss before the sun rises.

end.

a/n: apologies for the lack of updates :< I hope this blurb can suffice as a sorry hihi like / follow/ reblog please if you enjoyed ! also request if you want anything similar, thank you <3 tag list: @hellsburners @boypied

[sideblogofhell]

shower haze

summary: rafe has been thinking of you pairing: rafe cameron x male reader warning: male reader smut, rafe is pretty dark tb

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Cold water fell down Rafe’s skin like shards of ice. “Shit!” he curses, quickly turning on the heater while shaking off the water from his naked body. The cold turned warm then slightly hot, soothing the aches in his muscles from working out with Topper and Kelce. 

Rafe stood under the shower in silence, the water bouncing off the tiled floor. They went to the beach after Topper said Sarah would be there. He saw you there with your friends. With board shorts that sat too short above your thigh and a loose shirt that showed your chest which billowed against the wind revealing skin.

You bent down to grab a beer in the cooler, the shirt hiking up showing the band of your underwear. The fabric stretched against your ass making it obvious for everyone to see how plump it was. Rafe tooke out his phone so he could take a picture, but before he could Topper called for him, “Bro, you comin’ or what?” he jumped in surprise. 

There was a spot behind an old broken down yacht where Rafe and his friends liked to hang out and do drugs, it was abandoned and no one really went there. He thought of ways on how he could take you there: invite your friends, treat you with free beer, or he could just grab you and take you there. 

Your relationship with Rafe, or the lack thereof, was strange. You’ve been in similar circles, went to the same parties, shared conversations before, but you always thought he was just too much of a kook. 

Rafe lathered soap on his arms, the suds slipping on his muscles and dripping down his sides. He let his imagination run free. You would lather the soap on his chest, marveling at how he was built like an athlete. His hand smoothed on his abdomen, his fingers slipped on each ridge until it met the stubble on his crotch. 

You would have commented something about how big he was or how you’ve never seen a dick like it. He touched his forming erection, imagining it was you starting to stroke him. The soap slipped on his shaft like a lube, with slow strokes he reached full hardness, the tip a bright red. 

“Fuck,” Rafe cursed, his hand moving up and down his length. His grip became tight as his strokes became more vigorous, his hips rocked at the same pace. The tip began to drip with precome. “You want that fucking dick, yeah?” he murmured. 

Your lips would have engulfed his hardness, your knees cold from the wet tile. His hands gripped on your hair, pushing and pulling your head. His tip grazed the back of your mouth making you gag, he grunted from the sensation and bucked his hips driving his cock deeper. Tears start to well in your eyes, you gripped onto his muscular thighs for strength, his pace unforgiving. 

“Yeah, take that fucking dick,” he said, thrusting himself in your mouth faster, your tongue wet and warm against his shaft. “Walkin’ around like a goddamn slut. You were doin’ that for me, yeah?” his hand found your nape and pulled you deeper making you choke a bit. “Trying to grab my attention?” 

Rafe grunted, his moans echoing in the shower. His tip became even more red from his aggressive stroking, the precome dripping down his whitened knuckles. He planted a hand on the wall for balance, water still dripping down his reddened skin. 

He imagined you looking up at him with glazed eyes, wanting and submissive for him, your hands cupping his balls while sucking. “Suck up,” letting go of your head, “but—fuck—slowly you cunt,” he cursed. “Then suck on the tip,” your tongue licked around and over the head while your cheeks hollowed on his cock, he moaned and drew his head back in ecstasy. 

“Fuck, you suck good,” his thumb grazed you cheek, praising your work. “I want to fuck you so bad,” his eyes rolled back as he felt his vision turn white. His heart pounded hard and fast as if matching his pace, the whole perverted act was enough to satisfy Rafe’s carnal desires. “You’d want that won’t you?”

Your words were muffled into moans, you weren’t even sure you said yes or no—your thoughts were too hazy to even comprehend. A tap on your shoulder led to you with both hands on the tiled wall, your back arched facing Rafe’s cock. He slaps his hardness twice before spitting on it, stroking with makeshift lube before swiftly pushing in. 

Kissing your neck was his only way of consoling you after the sting of putting it in. Rafe didn’t think he was ruthless; he knew how to pace himself. A dichotomous statement in his mind because his imagination did not slow down. He was fucking your hole relentlessly, grabbing onto your hair, and pinning your hands behind you. 

He enjoyed the look on your face—tears in your eyes, cheeks flushed, mouth agape with swollen lips. Electricity was surging throughout his skin, each nerve fired up and burning for release. “You’re fucking mine.”

He wanted to own you. 

Rafe pounded his hand against the wall, his hips moving erratically in preparation for his release. Before he could let go he heard a pounding on his door. The noise severed all the bolts in his nerves, his libido descending into an empty void in his center. He felt ruined; disturbed, like the highest high in his life being broken by a slap on the face.

“Who the fuck is banging on my door?” he shouted, probably Wheezie. He was shocked to see you at his door. 

“You left your phone on the beach, your sister said I should just bring it to your room,” you said in a shaken tone. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have,” Rafe felt embarrassed, like the illusion just faded. “I—uhm—I mean you should have just left it on the door or something.”

“Yeah it’s fine,” you said, handing the phone over. “But next time, Rafe,” you said, inching towards him. “If you’re going to take a picture of my ass be fuckin discrete about it, yeah?”

end. 

also if you want a 3d experience: https://soundgasm.net/u/Agent_Eff/M4F-Shower-Wank-Req-Fill

[sideblogofhell]

midnight call

summary: you're out on a hunting trip with your dad and his friend, Joel. pairing: dbf! joel miller x male reader warning: male reader smut!

| masterlist |

The cicadas sang a low hymn outside the cabin while a couple of owls coo under the moonlight. Wood crackles from the fireplace, the warmth pleasant and cozy. Joel sat with a coffee cup in hand, his gaze fixed on the TV.

“I’m pretty sure he’s already asleep,” you toy with the drawstring on your hoodie. He sips from the cup, his lips purse from the bitterness. Your dad insisted you come to his annual hunting trips with his best friend, Joel. He says it’s good for a man to know how to hunt, you cringe at the idea. 

His brows furrow, a confused look on his face. “I don’t like your tone, boy,” you smirk. You only really joined because Joel was coming. The color drained from his face when you placed your legs on his lap, your heel brushing against his crotch. 

“He wouldn’t even know,” you teased. He squirms on his seat, sweat forming on his temples. “The guy sleeps like a bear.”

From the end of the hall you could hear your dad’s muffled snores. You inch towards Joel, shifting your position so you could touch his thigh, the thick muscle tenses from your touch. Smoothing your hand towards his crotch, Joel feels his cock stir. He grabs your wrist. He thinks for a second, licking his drying lips. “You're trouble.”

He guides your palm against his clothed cock, his grip was strong as if holding a machine at work. His hips roll, rutting against your palm for some control. You unbutton his jeans, his sex aching to be free. 

Your lips ghost his tip, a bead of wetness drenches his old grey boxers. The garter of his boxers was old and loose. The garment fell easily with his jeans, his hips lifted to make way. Before your lips could meet his reddened tip, his phone rings. 

“Shit, I have to get that,” Joel haphazardly pulls his pants, fumbling to take the call. “Hello?”

It was Tommy, his static voice resonates between you and Joel. Their conversation did not deter you from taking Joel. You pull on his jeans again, his voice stutters. He pulls the phone away, “Hey, gimme a minute,” Joel whispers. 

You shake your head, “I’ll be quiet I promise,” you mothed. You engulf the head of his penis, a grunt leaving Joel’s lips. 

“I know Tommy, I’ll be home tomorrow night we can—fuck,” he tries to subdue the pleasure erupting from his throat. 

“‘You okay there, Joel?” Tommy asked. Joel pulled his head back on the sofa, eyes closed while he bit his lower lip. You took his cock deeper in your mouth, it was some six to seven inches long, quite the girth too. Saliva coats his erect penis making it glisten against the light of the flame. Your hands stroke his shaft while you tongue toys with his sensitive tip. His toes curled inside his boots with his grip on the phone tight it could break. 

“Yeah, I’m—” he pauses, sucking in air before he could continue. “I’m fine, ‘just tired from all the hunting. I’ll be home soon, we can discuss it then.” 

You let his cock free with a pop, your hands still stroking. Joel drops the call, throwing his phone at the other sofa chair. You cup his unkempt balls, probably too busy to trim with all the work or he simply didn’t care. 

He pulls your head away from his cock, holding you by the shoulders so he could talk. “What made you think that was okay, boy?” He pulls your head back, exposing your neck. “I ought to punish you for that.”

“Do it,” you groaned. 

“You like this don’t you? Teasing me all day, touching my arm and rubbing your tight ass on my cock,” he touches your sex, aching to be let out. “And now you suck my cock while I take a call and your father is fucking asleep in the next room. You slut.”

You couldn’t utter a single word, your mind too hazy from his touch. “Joel—please,”

“No,” he said sternly. “Naughty boys like you don’t get to come that easy,” He pushed you back on his cock, bobbing your throat on it like a sex toy. His hips bucked on your throat, you were too stunned to adjust so his head nudged on the roof of your mouth. You choked, coughing and breathless when you pulled away. “Attaboy, take that fucking cock.”

His hand gripped your hair, his spit covered cock throbbed inside your mouth. Joel fought hard to keep his arousal at bay, but your soft lips and warm mouth brought shivers down his spine. His thighs tensed, his shaft was smooth against your tongue. 

Joel saw your hand inch towards your cock, he was quick to swat it away. His voice stern and commanding, “Not yet, pretty boy,” he gestured for you to keep going. You suck on his head, lips tight against the sensitive gland. Slowly, you suck towards the base, your nose filled with his scent, “Just like that.” 

Tears dripped from your eyes, his cock stretched your mouth open on each thrust your jaw started to ache. Joel’s hand patted your back, signalling he was close. Not wanting to let him down, you continued sucking faster, hollowing your cheeks to create a tighter suction. 

Joel groaned from the vigorous act. His head pulled back with his eyes closed. He wanted to scream and curse, but he knew he could wake his friend up. The pounding on his chest was deafening, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. “I’m close,” he cries, his neck burning red. 

The synergy of your mouth sucking on the head with both hands wet while stroking the shaft, drove Joel’s mind to madness. His thoughts were mush and incoherent, his humanity long gone—in its place was the animalistic cries of a lustful man. “I’m coming,” he moans, thrusting deep into your mouth as his come spill down your throat, the saltiness intoxicating. “Take that cock you fucking slut.”

Joel was a panting mess, his hair matted, lips swollen from being bit, his cock wet with spit and cum. He pulled you in for a kiss, sharing his seed. It was delightful, more gentle than his thrusts. He littered your neck with kisses, pushing you down on the sofa. Your pants get pulled down, he took no pleasure in keeping them near. He kissed the perimeter of your base, licking a strip on your shaft. “Now your reward.” 

end.

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[sideblogofhell]

worst behavior

summary: warming up a cold morning with the bridgertons pairing: benedict bridgerton x male reader x anthony bridgerton word count: 1k warning: male reader smut!

| masterlist |

The cotton was cool on your back, autumn breeze flowing through the gaps on the windowsill. You woke from the sound of the birds chirping and the gardeners shearing the hedges, Benedict glanced at you, an arm outstretched to your back. 

“Good morning,” he caressed your hair, toying with the locs. 

Anthony stirred from the commotion, gaining conscience soon enough. “Did someone forget to lock a window,” he sat up, resting on his nape. “It's freezing.” 

“I suppose the night brought enough heat in the room that I forgot,” Benedict said. Your naked bodies were covered by a white silk sheet that could not cover three men. Benedict let the sheet cover you, exposing his naked frame. The two men shared similarities that the many women in court enjoyed. Their tall frames, dark flowing hair, and their smoldering eyes–-the true mark of a Bridgerton. “Surely, the two of you enjoyed yourselves.”

You sat up and covered yourself with more of the blanket. “This—was definitely fun, but do trust me gentlemen, it will not happen again,” you said, smoothing your cold hands against your hair. Anthony’s eyes widened, lips pout as he rested his back on the bed frame. 

“I assure you, you will not hear from us again,” he looked at Benedict, waiting for him to share the statement. Benedict chuckled, shrugging his shoulders before diving under the sheets. You shuddered when his warm lips met your thigh, his large hands warm against your skin. 

“By the way you cried last night, surely this would not be the last time?” Benedict rose from the sheet, resting his chin on your abdomen. His hands crept under your thighs splitting them open, a finger teasing your hole still wet from last night. “You were so good to us.”

The sudden pressure against your hole made you jolt, his knuckles meeting the flesh of your ass as he entered. Anthony smirked, diving right to your neck to leave small kisses. Their large muscular arms pinned you down with little to no force—you welcomed their touch, each part of your skin reacting in its own way. 

Benedict kissed the border between your leg and your abdomen, the small oblique line that led to your sex. He gave small pecks with light suckles on the flesh, leaving faint purple marks. His two fingers made their way into your flesh, curling and pulling as if luring you in. You pulled your head back, eyes rolling to your skull in euphoria, the sheets crumpled under your grip. 

Anthony wrapped his arm around your neck, cushioning your nape on his large bicep. You could feel the hair of his pits on your shoulder, the manly scent enveloping your senses. His fingers toy with your nipples, the bed creaking from all the movement you body made. 

Your cock began to tent against the sheets, a wet spot forming from your tip. Benedict was quick to kiss your base, his tongue tracing your shaft until his mouth enveloped the aching head. He sucked on the swollen gland like a sommelier, careful and precise, not wasting any second in providing pleasure. 

“God—you’re a delight,” Anthony whispered in your ear, your hand stroking his hardened cock while he proceeded to nip on your ear. The sides of your hands tickled from the hair on his base, he was much hairier than Benedict, his chest littered with hair that trailed down his toned abdomen. 

The bed rocked from the change in position. Anthony had set you in between his hairy thighs, toned from years of horse riding. Your mouth sucked and licked on his hard-on, tasting the salty precome leaking from the head.

Benedict’s tongue lapped on your wet hole, his fingers stretching you open. When he was satisfied with the state of your hole, he dropped spit on his length, tapping on your hole before pushing it in. 

You yelped from the contact, tears beading at the edge of your eyes. Benedict’s strokes were languid but precise, it felt as if he was painting and you, the canvas. His hands guided your hips through each thrust. 

The room filled with their grunts and their moans, while your cries muffled against Anthony’s cock. His cock twitched whenever you left contact, more precome leaking down the shaft, eventually drenching the sheets. “Come on, pretty boy. Lick it up.”

You took his nectar in your tongue, licking it as it pooled in your mouth. Anthony cursed for how lewd the image was. He wanted to take your head and pound his cock in your throat, be rough with it and use it purely for his own benefit, but he was a gentleman—and his brother had done much damage as it is. 

The two men locked eyes as if communicating without uttering a word. They pulled out at the same time, your brows furrowed in confusion. At the same beat, they both pushed their cocks in each of your holes eliciting a muffled cry that brought them closer to climax. 

With the same pace, they both fucked into your with fever, their hips rocking as your muscles ached and stretched. “How am I supposed to look at another during the balls when you have bewitched me with your body, my dearest,” Benedict’s hand slapped against your ass, “you torment me truly.”

“He lies through his teeth,” Anthony comments. “He will beg for our attention at the next ball,” He lifts your chin, your eyes set on his. “Look at how he’s taking our cocks, he is sullied like a common whore.

“Is that true?” Benedict stops thrusting, your back arches from the emptiness as if calling for it back. “Beg for it then, you whore. Use your words.”

“Please—fuck—please fuck me,” the words come out in cries. “I need it.”

Benedict traces his tip on the rim, taunting. “Is it convincing, brother?”

“Not quite,” Anthony responded. “We could just leave him here, let him ache from being untouched.” 

“No!” you sobbed. “Please, I’ll do anything—just fuck me.”

They both started to fuck you with more vigor. Benedict’s careful strokes were replaced by hard pounding, skin slapping on skin while he grunted. His hair was damp against his forehead, drops of sweat dripping on your back like candle wax. 

“Yes, take it you whore,” Anthony grunted, his breath exasperated. You could not bear to open your eyes, the pleasure was just too much. The two men continued to rock their hips into your body, their pace was erratic, inching towards finality.

“I’m close—fucking take it,” Benedict cries, his cheeks turing red. You moan on Anthony’s cock, the tip slamming against the roof of your mouth. Within a couple blows the two men finished inside you, their come spilling warm and coating the walls of your flesh. 

You came all over the sheets, your chest heaving as you chased for air. The cold air was replaced with a humidity that made your skin damp and sticky. Their limbs wrapped around your body like a man made enclosure. 

“You’re not leaving us any sooner,” Benedict said, placing a peck on your lips. Anthony wiped the cum on your lips and placed a wet kiss on your mouth, your tongues laced. 

“Have me however you like then,” you smiled. 

end.

[sideblogofhell]

what's up!

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[sideblogofhell]

people watching

summary: two strangers jerk off together? pairing: callum turner x male reader word count: 1k warning: male reader smut!

| masterlist |

Dusk befell the night sky. Callum haphazardly dropped his backpack, quickly taking off his leather jacket and jewelry.

He found solace in his apartment, it was cool, dark, and secluded from the outside world. The dark grey curtains and dark blue sheets enveloped the quiet flat. He plopped face down on the mattress, a sigh of relief escaping from his mouth. 

He woke a few hours later to a darker apartment. His feet bumped into the leg of the nightstand as he got up. The clock says it's fifteen minutes past midnight, the other apartment buildings were still and dim as if abandoned. 

Callum got rid of his sweaty shirt and his jeans leaving him in boxers. He stretched his arms, feeling the emptiness in his stomach and the dryness in his throat. Fuck, he thought. There was nothing in his refrigerator save a bottle of beer. He took the cold amber bottle and lit a cigarette while sitting near his open window. 

The apartment next door looked like a slab of clean concrete with small inset windows, dull and empty. He wondered if the people on the other side of the windows shared his sentiments. That after a long day of performing for the world, everyone needed peace and quiet. 

After taking a drag of his cigarette, with bitter smoke billowing in front of his face, a faint light flicked at the corner of his eyes. A window was illuminated by a small warm lamp. Like Callum, you slumped on the mattress and let out a sigh. 

Two tired sighs left your lips. Three, two, one, you got up and changed into pajamas. An old loose shirt and boxer shorts felt like a comforting hug after the long day. So you put on a TV show and lie down to relax. 

Callum smirked, how ironic was it that you were watching the tv show he currently starred in. He saw himself on the TV kissing the lead actress, his tongue laced against hers. Your legs tensed, closing in with timidity and discomfort. 

In the show, the woman lifted Callum’s shirt revealing his toned abdomen, tracing her hands on the hard peaks. He moaned, a deep guttural moan that made your cock harden. Callum could see the TV illuminate your boxers, a peak forming in its center. 

The lead had taken Callum’s character in her mouth, the camera shifting to Callum’s face as he groaned in ecstasy. You slipped your underwear off and grabbed a bottle of lube from your nightstand. Callum could feel his own cock stir, he palmed his own erection before putting his cigarette out. 

The lube slicked your cock making you shudder from the cold. The man on the show held onto the woman’s head, pushing her down deeper into his cock. You started at his lips, agape and glistening with saliva, his muscular chest rising and falling from being breathless—the pleasure enrapturing his body and mind. 

“Fuck,” your toes curled as you stroked. 

The man on the show pulled the woman and laid her on the bed, her back against his. He spat on his hand before lubing his cock. His sex was cut from the shot but you imagined his thick cock being stroked. 

On the other side of the window, Callum had done the same. He let his saliva drip down on his palm before covering his raging hard cock with it. “Fuck,” he groaned. He thought of how weird and meta this ordeal was, how ironic it is that you were pleasuring yourself to the thought of him as he did the same. 

A thought brightens your mind, a lewd one at that. You take the dildo from your nightstand, lubing the flesh colored silicone. Oddly enough Callum was roughly the same length and girth, which intrigued the actor even more. You spread your legs in front of the TV, showing Callum’s character fucking the lead. 

The toy pressed on the rim of your hole, your eyes rolling back from the pressure. Callum takes his opposed fingers and thumb to make a tight hole, pressing onto his leaking tip at the same pace. The two of you moan in unison without each other’s knowledge. 

You matched the man’s pace while Callum matched yours. The actor imagined his cock thrusting inside you, eliciting the filthiest sounds from you as he fucked his fill. Your vision went hazy, your legs spasming as you got lost in the sensations. The dildo went in and out of your hole, your hips chaotic and unsteady as you rode the high.

Callum continued to stroke his cock, precome dripping down the tip lubricating his sex some more. His hips rocked in a steady pace as if fucking into your hole. His head rolled back, eyes shut. The suspension of reality was intoxicating, more addicting than tobacco and alcohol. He though of how he would have you on your hands and knees, fucking your hole while leaving marks on your ass. 

Each thrust of the dildo hits your spot that lets precome drip down and make your jaw ache from clenching too hard. You knew your climax was near, so you rode the high by thrusting your hips in the air, your thigh muscles tense trying to stabilize your position.

With two hands pumping his aching cock, Callum could feel his end come too. He stood up facing the window, one hand on the glass while the other viciously pumped his cock. His eyes were closed, rolling back to his skull as he let his imagination run wild. 

He would have you on the window facing the other tenants, have them hear your licentious cries as his cock pounded your hole. His hands tight against your neck skin slapped against skin. Fuck, he was close. 

Sharp cries tore through the silence of the night. Come dripped down Callum’s window, his forehead resting as his breathless sighs drew condensation on the pane. Your face warmed up from the come covering your cheeks and chest, your chest heaving as you pulled the dildo out. 

You laid in the silence, wondering if someone heard you. Panic rose to your chest when you noticed that the curtains were drawn. Tiredness left you callous. You check to see if anyone saw you, but the only thing moving against the dead apartment wall was the billowing of dark grey curtains across your window. 

end.

[sideblogofhell]

laboratory mishap

summary: a dance of shared madness between an emperor and a gladiator pairing: johnny storm x male reader x peter Parker word count: 1k warning: male reader smut!

| masterlist |

“There’s only one way of fixing this,” Johnny said, shaking his head with eyebrows scrunched in pain. 

Peter looked at you with a mixture of embarrassment and worry. His fingers thudded on the glass table as if playing imaginary piano keys. The two boys looked down on their feet while waiting for your response, the aching tents on their groins making them wince in pain from each step, but the itch was still growing strong. 

“Fine,” you said, standing up from your chair. “I’ll do it.” 

It had been entirely your fault. A few weeks ago a mysterious plant had been sent to your lab for studying. Scientists at the Baxter Building had suspected it to be extra terrestrial, a form of aphrodisiac with its iridescent pink sap. 

Peter and Johnny visited your lab while you were at work, the usual routine since the three of you were friends. They played around with your stuff and accidentally dropped an incubated vial of the sap releasing it as a mist. 

They took you to Johnny’s room on the 31st floor of the building, an extravagant loft filled with trinkets of Johnny’s interests, bands, an electric guitar, books about space and physics. 

“Et voila,” he said, his hands covering his crotch. 

“So—how do we do it?” Peter asked. You sat on the edge of Johnny’s king sized bed, the soft cotton sinking you in, blood rushing to your cheeks. The two boys hurried to your side, their breaths erratic and warm against your cheeks. 

“Maybe we should—uhm,” You said, smoothing your sweaty palms on your linen trousers. “Kiss first?” 

“Yeah—of course,” Johnny said. “Parker do the honors?” he gestured. 

Peter cleared his throat and brushed his hand through his hair. Cradling his cheeks, you slowly pressed your lips against his. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a deeper kiss. It was soft and gentle, but each time you tried to grasp for air he would pull you in back as if he wanted to stay like that longer. 

“Hey buddy, my turn,” Johnny said, his warm hand resting on your lower back. 

You took Johnny’s lips, they were soft and more warm. By the way he moved and placed his lips and tongue you could tell who was more experienced. He was more eager and chaotic, his hands moved from your waist and reached under your shirt. His fingers were like candle wax dripping on your skin. 

Johnny grabbed Peter’s arm and placed it on your thigh, his head invading the space you and Johnny shared. Peter kissed your nape with small pecks. He caressed your clothed cock with languid strokes, eliciting a wanton gasp. 

The other boy chuckled in between kisses, his mouth falling to your neck. Both of them licked and sucked on your delicate skin while their hands went busy touching and caressing your weakest points. Your waist, your abdomen, your nipples, and your sex. 

Johnny unfastened his belt and pulled out his erection, his thick cock ached red and leaked with pre-come. You stroked it willingly, the skin much warmer. He moaned, arms stretched behind him for support. More liquid released from his tip, it was slippery on his cock making your strokes more pleasurable. The boy cursed and moaned your name, edging you to go faster. 

Peter pulled you back for a kiss, undoing his pants as well. He was more shy, pausing and waiting for you to initiate before letting you take out his cock. It was longer and more pink than red. 

You asked them to stand in front of you. The two boys stood in attention, both their clothes discarded. From the heat of the moment you took a moment to look at them. Your two very attractive–very hot–well endowed friends. 

While stroking their cocks, you noticed the difference in their build. Despite being almost the same height, Peter was leaner and more hairy, there was a bit of hair on his chest and abdomen that trailed to his cock, whereas Johnny was more muscular and broad. 

The voices inside your head were like a group of workers hurdling in an office fire. The good side was asking you about the morality of the situation, these are your best friends this could ruin your friendship! Or the bad side, that echoed your deepest sentiments, so what? These are the hottest guys you could ever be with. 

You looked at them with beady eyes, each hand preoccupied. Closing your eyes you embraced your desires and sucked on Peter’s cock. He let out an exasperated gasp which quickly turned into moans. His hand resting on your head as he guided each bob of your throat. 

The sounds of your mouth and whimpers were joined by the sounds of their mouths sloppily making out above you, Johnny’s hands pulling on Peter’s hair as he stroked his own leaking cock. 

A loud pop rang through the room as you gasped for air, spit all over your chin and Peter’s cock. You continued to stroke it while you moved on Johnny’s. With lips swollen and throat aching you still gave him the best you could provide. He was girthier so your jaw had to adjust, you licked and sucked on the head to compensate. 

“Shit—you’re so fucking good taking that cock,” Johnny moaned. “How didn’t you bust immediately, Parker?” 

“With a fuck ton of self-control,” Peter said. 

Johnny pulled his cock and bent down to meet your face. He left one more aching kiss. “Can we move to the bed? I kinda want to fuck now.”

Peter rolled his eyes but you followed Johnny’s request. Peter sat against the bed frame with you in between his legs focusing on sucking his cock. With your back arched and your ass up, Johnny placed a wet kiss and toyed his tongue on your hole. 

With one swift movement, Johnny sheathed his wet cock inside your hole. Peter silenced your breathless moans with a kiss, fingers buried in your hair. Johnny thrusted deep until your ass met the skin of his crotch, you gasped and clutched onto Peter’s shoulders for support. He whispered sweet nothings cooing your pleasure. 

“Fuck—Parker he feels so fucking good,” Johnny moaned, rocking his hips in and out of you. Peter stroked your hardness, matching Johnny’s pace. The unison of pain and pleasure drove you closer and closer to a madness you could not explain. Each nerve in your body sending shocks of gratification that made you leak onto Peter’s fingers. 

You tried to silence your moans by sucking Peter’s cock, but the sounds leaked like the come lubricating your cock. Johnny’s pace became more needy and erratic, his chest against your back with an arm wrapping your torso. You moved forward and back, planting your throat on Peter’s cock. 

The synergy of your movements made the act more spiritual. There were three bodies in sync as you all reached your climaxes. Peter fucked your mouth with vigor, your eyes welling with tears, your cheeks warm to touch. Johnny grunted and moaned as he fucked harder, his pace becoming erratic.

Peter’s legs start to writhe, his toes curled up while face scrunches up trying to regulate his overwhelmed senses. “Fuck—I’m so fucking close,” he moans “I can’t—I can’t hold it any longer.”

You felt the same, your knees and elbows were weak, your neck and jaw ached. Johnny readied for release, his grip on your waist was set, his thrust became strong and slow, one beat at a time. At the last tick of the clock the three of you reached your peak, come shooting all over yourselves. 

Johnny shuddered and draped all over your back. The two of you collapsed on the mattress, sweaty and breathless. After a few minutes he was quick to get a towel and clean you up, you were cuddled next to Peter, your arms laced together. 

“I can assure that we all enjoyed ourselves despite the mishap,” Johnny said, wiping off the spit and cum from his cock. 

“Ya’ll are never allowed to enter my lab again,” you said. 

“Damn, we had always wanted to fuck you in your lab,” Peter said, snickering. You were dumbfounded. “What? You seriously don’t know we’ve had the biggest crush on you?”

“I think we need to jog his memory a bit,” Johnny said, slipping a finger inside your hole.

End.

[sideblogofhell]

bad idea (forget about it)

summary: bucky's pr manager is pissing him off. pairing: bucky barnes x male reader word count: 1.1k warnings: 18+ warning, gay smut, top bucky barnes a/n: thunderbolts kick sorry will work on requests now

masterlist

The laughter and chatter deafened as you went deeper into the dim hallway.

You received a single text message from your boss demanding you go to the fourth room in the east wing. Loud thumps from your chest made you feel like it would sink through the floor while you tried to look for the room. 

You checked yourself on the camera app from your phone, checking to see if your hair was tousled or your tie loose. Sweat dripped down your temples despite the cold manor, your feet ached inside expensive leather shoes, and your neck chafed from the tight collar. 

The door creaked open when a cold metal hand pulled you in. 

His blue eyes were dead set on yours, his hands pinning you on the old wooden door. Loose locks of hair fell on his face, his breath smelling of wine. 

“I hate it,” he said, his hand on your shoulders, the grip tight but not painful—just enough to put you in place.

“Hate what? ” 

“Whatever I saw earlier,” he lets go, smoothing his hands on his thighs. “Torres is flirting with you.”

“He was not flirting with me,” you said, folding your arms.

“Yes, he was! His thick brows furrowed while he copied your stance”. His suit jacket was lying on a sofa, his sleeves folded up, revealing his toned arm and the vibranium arm on the other. 

Bucky was dumbfounded; he took his right hand and smoothed it across his stubbled face.

“If he did, so what? ”Your voice is getting higher. “And for your information, he asked me out and—”

His palms reach for your cheeks, pulling you into his warm lips. The kiss was deep, his tongue meeting yours. His metal arm wrapped around your waist, pinning you to his. 

He pulled away to take a long breath, your wanton lips coming back as you pulled his face back in. He pushes you deeper against the door, his knee spreading your legs apart. You pull his shirt, palming the hard muscles of his abdomen. 

“Jealousy is a good look on you, Sergeant Barnes,” you tease. He grunts before pulling your tie, ripping open your shirt and your pants so he can access your bare skin. Your skin felt like it was burning from each touch Bucky did, his metal fingers toying with your nipple, while the other reached down to grab your ass.

You unzipped his pants to touch his hard cock through his black boxers; it was thick and heavy, the tip warm and wet from precum. You stroke his erections as he starts to trail kisses on your neck, making you moan. He pulls your suit jacket off and tosses it aside, the buttons popping and flying off as he takes off the remaining clothing you have. Bucky takes a condom from his pocket and puts it against your lips. “Bite on this—and shut up.” 

He spins you around and positions your hands against the door, your back arched. He pulls your pants and boxers down to your ankles before slapping your ass. You whimper in response as he places his face between the two mounds. He licks and teases your hole, making you moan loudly, your knees buckling from the intense pleasure. 

Bucky stroked his wet cock, dripping more and more precum as the tension increased. You could feel his metal finger tracing the perimeter of your hole and slowly pressing in. “Suck,” he said, taking the condom from your mouth before presenting his metal hand. You suck and licked on his finger, covering it with saliva. He pressed the wet digit into your aching hole, and you covered your mouth to try to stifle the lewd sounds coming from your mouth. 

“Now you know how to shut up? ” he said, curling his finger to toy with your weakness. He made a pulling gesture that made your body so weak from the pleasure your cheek pressed onto the door from the lack of balance and strength. 

He rips the condom wrapper open and places it on his aching erection; he also takes a lube packet and slathers it all over the pink rubber. He takes his well-lubed hand to stroke your cock; you could only curse his name in response. With the other hand, he guides his cock into your hole, slowly stretching you open. 

Bucky sheathes himself deep into you, the skin of your ass meeting the base of his cock. He hugs you with his arms, with his neck nestled into the corner of your neck. He starts to fuck you with his slow strokes, making sure he isn’t hurting you. 

“I’m jealous,” he said in between grunts. “So fucking jealous.”

He quickens his pace, the stroking on your cock going faster and tighter. The room filled with the sounds of skin hitting skin and wetness moving. “I didn’t mean to,” you said, tears and sweat falling down your cheeks. 

“I know,” he said. His kisses were deep and made light marks. “I can’t control how I feel; I want you so badly.” 

“Then have me, Bucky,” you said, eyes rolling back from the pleasure. “I’m all yours.”

Bucky pulls you out and spins you around; he gestures for you to remove your shoes and the rest of your bottoms. He picks you up with his immense strength and fucks his cock back into you. You were suspended on the door, his sheer strength carrying you through each thrust. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you kissed him with so much want and need you forgot everything that occurred before this. 

The door creaked as the old brass hinges bent from the force Bucky was putting against it. Cracks formed around his metal hand, forming a print on the door. “The door—” you said, worried it might break before you do. 

You both moved to the sofa; you straddled his thick thighs and took charge in the thrusts. His mean demeanor was gone, replaced by a softer, more craving, and tamed one. You pulled on his long hair so he would look up at you; pale blue eyes against long lashes left you in a deep trance as you both became more untethered to rationality and deeper into your desires. 

Bucky matched the pace of your ass to his hand; the synchronous motions drove you closer to your climaxes. You stared at each other as if knowing what was to come. He pressed one last kiss to your lips as you both moaned against each other as he finished inside you while you covered his abdomen with your cum. 

You froze with your neck resting against his shoulder, arms and legs weak. A faint light emanates from your smartwatch with a ding. A thread of messages flooding the screen. 

“So, are you going on that date with him? ” he said, biting his lip from the timidity. 

“Buck—you’re literally still inside me.” 

end. 

if you likes this fic go check out some of my other stuff! want to request? don't be shy to send one! Also do tell me if you want to be on a taglist?

[sideblogofhell]

let's get intertwined

summary: matt misses your voice. pairing: matt murdock x male reader word count: 1.8k warnings: 18+ warning, top matt murdock, bottom male reader, phone s3x, use of toys a/n: this is hellsburners born again did y'all miss me?

masterlist | more matt murdock

Matt dragged himself to the couch after a long day at work, a wine glass on one hand and an unopened bottle of merlot in the other.

He wallowed in the supposed silence of the room, his senses focusing on the minute sound of every object, like the tick of the clock, or the drops falling from the faucet. 

He missed a lot of things since you’ve been gone. Work demanded you stay in San Francisco for two weeks while Matt stayed in New York. He missed the humming you would do as you cleaned the flat, or the sound of your heels as you skipped and danced around. He missed the smell of your fresh shampoo and body wash whenever you left the shower, or the smell of your perfume when you hugged him goodbye. 

It has been exactly nine days since you left and he felt like all traces of you had gone. Matt grits his teeth after he sipped on the wine, the bitterness tracing down his throat. You would’ve laughed at him for having the reaction, you always had the higher alcohol tolerance.

He traced a finger on his phone, debating if he should give you a call. It was half past midnight for Matt, meaning you were already probably asleep, you always cared for a full eight hours. 

As he finished the glass his phone started to vibrate, the voice assistant repeating your name in a monotonous tone. He scrambled to answer, almost dropping the glass on the carpeted floor. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said in a calm tone, he tried to mask the fact that his heart was beating fast and that he was excited you finally gave him the call.

“Hey, baby,” you said, he could tell from your voice that you were tired. “How’s work?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” he said. “You sound exhausted.”

“Well work is always tiring, there’s nothing new about that,” you said, he could hear you place your keys on the kitchen counter, the sound of you kicking your shoes as you huddled yourself on the couch. “I just want to go home, I miss you so much.”

Matt sighed, you don’t know how much he felt the same. “I miss you too. I don’t think I can handle any more takeout recommendations from Kirstie.”

“Matthew, don't be rude, she’s trying her best!” you laughed. Matt could feel his cheeks warm up from the sound of your laugh. 

“Well she’s not like you,” he said, toying with the hem of his shirt. “No one is.”

“Oh yeah?” you smiled sheepishly. “I bet you’re flirting with a lot of pretty boys and girls while I’m away.”

“How would I even know if they’re pretty?” he chuckles. He paused for a second like he was about to confess a sin. He scratched the back of his neck before letting out a sigh. “Can’t believe I’m saying this but I’ve finally used that lube you got me.” 

There was an awkward bit of silence, like Matt just said the wrong thing, he was embarrassed, he wasn’t really the type to say his perverted thoughts out loud. He felt like God was listening to him and judging him from above. You, however, always teased him about it. How, one time, you caught him masturbating to your sweater, or when you found out that he used to hear you pleasure yourself when you were still neighbors due to his heightened senses. 

So, one day, you gifted him a special bottle of lube and a fleshlight so he could use it. It was merely a joke, but you also kinda teetered on the idea of you two using it together when one of you was away.  

“And the stroker?” you said, your heart starting to beat fast. 

“Yeah—I used it too,” he said, his tone like a defeated man. “It’s nothing like you though, it lacks the softness of your lips, or the warmth of your mouth—” 

Matt traced his hand on his thigh, teasing the growing heat in his center by avoiding it. You imagined him on the couch, legs spread, touching himself to the idea of you sucking him off. You let out a soft moan under your breath, writhing in your seat to ward off the growing heat. 

At the other end of the line Matt smirks, your moans only made him harder. He palmed his cock against his pants, the growing bulge aches to be let out. “I tried to make due though, I stroked my cock with it everyday thinking of you, but it’s just not like you—it’s nothing like your ass too.”

“Matt—” you moaned. 

“Plus it’s not about relieving myself, I miss you–your face and your body,” he said, gripping onto his clothed hardness. “I miss the way you sound when I fuck you, or the way you beg for me to go harder.”

“I miss you too,”  you said, palming your hardness as well. “I miss riding your thick thighs and holding onto your chest. I miss the way you feel inside me—it makes me lose myself.”

“Tell me more—please baby,” he said, unzipping his pants. 

“I miss it when you come home from work,”  you said, pulling your pants down. “You’re so tired but you act like you just want to undress me and take me on the kitchen counter.”

“It’s not like we haven’t,” Matt said, a bead of wetness forming on his tip. 

“Yeah—I know,” you moan. “Or when—you know—you come home from being out at night. You seem to change a bit. I mean for fuck’s sake, Matt, you get yourself beaten up and cut by knives but when you come home all you want to do is fuck me.”

Matt recalls every time he has come home from patrolling Hell’s Kitchen. He would sometimes catch you asleep on the couch, you’d get so worried of his injuries, but Matt didn’t care. The thrill of his crusade, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he jumped from building to building, or the rush of punching and kicking. He couldn’t help but crave for you when he finds you asleep in your underwear, his calloused hands running through your soft skin. 

“I’m so fucking hard, sweetheart,” Matt moaned, his hand stroking his thick cock, the precum acting as lube for his dry hands. 

“Check your phone,” you said. Matt’s phone dings, the voice assistant says you’ve sent a link, it was for an app for a remote controlled vibrator. “Maybe you’d want to play with it while we’re on call?” you said teasingly. 

The two of you got ready for what was to come. You were still on the couch, your lower garments forgotten now, beside you was the vibrator and a small bottle of lube. Matt had taken his shirt off, the silver cross laid on his broad chest. His pants and underwear were pulled down as well, his fingers pushing lube inside the small silicone stroker. 

He had managed to navigate the app while you prepared, there was simply a bar that would increase or decrease the amount of vibrations. “Ready?” he said, his cock already standing tall. 

“Yeah,” you said. The lube was cold, but the sensation soon changed to pressure as you inserted the vibrator. It wasn’t as big as Matt, nor was it as thick, but the idea of you using it and him in control made you more horny than anything. 

Matt pressed his sensitive tip on the stroker, he shuddered, swallowing his saliva as he slowly inserted his cock. You could hear each other moan, the vibrator finally inside you. “Fuck—I wish it was your hole I’m fucking right now.” 

“I wish it was your cock too,” you moaned, slowly pushing and pulling on the toy. You squirmed in your sofa, lewd sounds spewing from your mouth as you gained more momentum. Matt did the same, he was gripping onto the stroker so tight his knuckles were white. He wanted to stroke harder, but he didn’t want to come fast. 

Matt pressed on his phone, bringing the vibrator to the first level. You gasped from the sudden intensity, your feet kicking as you whimpered. That only egged Matt on, he was stroking and twisting the toy on the head of his cock where it was most sensitive, he spewed different curses as he stroked. “You sound so good, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.”

“Feels—so good,” you said, your voice shaking. 

“Feels better than me?”

“No—not better,” you gasp again as Matt increased the level to five. Shit, shit, shit. Your neck was extended, your hip lifting off the sofa as the toy stayed inside you, your cock a leaking mess. “But—it’s making me lose my fucking mind.”

“You can’t imagine how hard that makes me,” he said. “This stroker isn’t as good as you by the way, it’s tight but not as tight, I have to grip it hard just to even come close to how you feel. But—fuck—I can’t stop imagining you here, riding my cock.”

“I wouldn’t stop,” you said, “I want to see you turn red and weak from me riding it.”

Matt felt his orgasm come closer, he didn’t want this to end. He scrolled the app to its highest setting, you let out a loud whimper, your tip continued to leak, your legs shaking and losing control. You cursed, begging Matt to fuck you when you came home. 

“Fuck—I can’t take it anymore,” you said, your chest heaving. Sweat dripped down Matt’s forehead, his hips already rising from his seat to fuck the stroker, he knew he was leaking more and more onto the toy, which only contributed to its slickness. 

“Cum for me,” he said. “Cum for me, my love. I’m almost there.”

In the three counts you could hear him let out a loud and raspy fuck. He removed the stroker before shooting cum all over his bare chest and abdomen. You spasmed and writhed on the sofa, cum shooting all over you. 

You both laid on the couch gasping for air. Matt had turned off the toy, his wrist hurted from the stroking. “I’m coming home tomorrow,” you said, chasing your breath. “My boss said my tasks were done so I could—come home.”

“Then prepare for much worse, because we’re not sleeping when you come home,” the both of you laughed. And, indeed, it was much much worse.

if you likes this fic go check out some of my other stuff! want to request? don't be shy to send one! Also do tell me if you want to be on a taglist?

[sideblogofhell]

let's get intertwined

summary: matt misses your voice. pairing: matt murdock x male reader word count: 1.8k warnings: 18+ warning, top matt murdock, bottom male reader, phone s3x, use of toys a/n: this is hellsburners born again did y'all miss me?

masterlist | more matt murdock

Matt dragged himself to the couch after a long day at work, a wine glass on one hand and an unopened bottle of merlot in the other.

He wallowed in the supposed silence of the room, his senses focusing on the minute sound of every object, like the tick of the clock, or the drops falling from the faucet. 

He missed a lot of things since you’ve been gone. Work demanded you stay in San Francisco for two weeks while Matt stayed in New York. He missed the humming you would do as you cleaned the flat, or the sound of your heels as you skipped and danced around. He missed the smell of your fresh shampoo and body wash whenever you left the shower, or the smell of your perfume when you hugged him goodbye. 

It has been exactly nine days since you left and he felt like all traces of you had gone. Matt grits his teeth after he sipped on the wine, the bitterness tracing down his throat. You would’ve laughed at him for having the reaction, you always had the higher alcohol tolerance.

He traced a finger on his phone, debating if he should give you a call. It was half past midnight for Matt, meaning you were already probably asleep, you always cared for a full eight hours. 

As he finished the glass his phone started to vibrate, the voice assistant repeating your name in a monotonous tone. He scrambled to answer, almost dropping the glass on the carpeted floor. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said in a calm tone, he tried to mask the fact that his heart was beating fast and that he was excited you finally gave him the call.

“Hey, baby,” you said, he could tell from your voice that you were tired. “How’s work?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” he said. “You sound exhausted.”

“Well work is always tiring, there’s nothing new about that,” you said, he could hear you place your keys on the kitchen counter, the sound of you kicking your shoes as you huddled yourself on the couch. “I just want to go home, I miss you so much.”

Matt sighed, you don’t know how much he felt the same. “I miss you too. I don’t think I can handle any more takeout recommendations from Kirstie.”

“Matthew, don't be rude, she’s trying her best!” you laughed. Matt could feel his cheeks warm up from the sound of your laugh. 

“Well she’s not like you,” he said, toying with the hem of his shirt. “No one is.”

“Oh yeah?” you smiled sheepishly. “I bet you’re flirting with a lot of pretty boys and girls while I’m away.”

“How would I even know if they’re pretty?” he chuckles. He paused for a second like he was about to confess a sin. He scratched the back of his neck before letting out a sigh. “Can’t believe I’m saying this but I’ve finally used that lube you got me.” 

There was an awkward bit of silence, like Matt just said the wrong thing, he was embarrassed, he wasn’t really the type to say his perverted thoughts out loud. He felt like God was listening to him and judging him from above. You, however, always teased him about it. How, one time, you caught him masturbating to your sweater, or when you found out that he used to hear you pleasure yourself when you were still neighbors due to his heightened senses. 

So, one day, you gifted him a special bottle of lube and a fleshlight so he could use it. It was merely a joke, but you also kinda teetered on the idea of you two using it together when one of you was away.  

“And the stroker?” you said, your heart starting to beat fast. 

“Yeah—I used it too,” he said, his tone like a defeated man. “It’s nothing like you though, it lacks the softness of your lips, or the warmth of your mouth—” 

Matt traced his hand on his thigh, teasing the growing heat in his center by avoiding it. You imagined him on the couch, legs spread, touching himself to the idea of you sucking him off. You let out a soft moan under your breath, writhing in your seat to ward off the growing heat. 

At the other end of the line Matt smirks, your moans only made him harder. He palmed his cock against his pants, the growing bulge aches to be let out. “I tried to make due though, I stroked my cock with it everyday thinking of you, but it’s just not like you—it’s nothing like your ass too.”

“Matt—” you moaned. 

“Plus it’s not about relieving myself, I miss you–your face and your body,” he said, gripping onto his clothed hardness. “I miss the way you sound when I fuck you, or the way you beg for me to go harder.”

“I miss you too,”  you said, palming your hardness as well. “I miss riding your thick thighs and holding onto your chest. I miss the way you feel inside me—it makes me lose myself.”

“Tell me more—please baby,” he said, unzipping his pants. 

“I miss it when you come home from work,”  you said, pulling your pants down. “You’re so tired but you act like you just want to undress me and take me on the kitchen counter.”

“It’s not like we haven’t,” Matt said, a bead of wetness forming on his tip. 

“Yeah—I know,” you moan. “Or when—you know—you come home from being out at night. You seem to change a bit. I mean for fuck’s sake, Matt, you get yourself beaten up and cut by knives but when you come home all you want to do is fuck me.”

Matt recalls every time he has come home from patrolling Hell��s Kitchen. He would sometimes catch you asleep on the couch, you’d get so worried of his injuries, but Matt didn’t care. The thrill of his crusade, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he jumped from building to building, or the rush of punching and kicking. He couldn’t help but crave for you when he finds you asleep in your underwear, his calloused hands running through your soft skin. 

“I’m so fucking hard, sweetheart,” Matt moaned, his hand stroking his thick cock, the precum acting as lube for his dry hands. 

“Check your phone,” you said. Matt’s phone dings, the voice assistant says you’ve sent a link, it was for an app for a remote controlled vibrator. “Maybe you’d want to play with it while we’re on call?” you said teasingly. 

The two of you got ready for what was to come. You were still on the couch, your lower garments forgotten now, beside you was the vibrator and a small bottle of lube. Matt had taken his shirt off, the silver cross laid on his broad chest. His pants and underwear were pulled down as well, his fingers pushing lube inside the small silicone stroker. 

He had managed to navigate the app while you prepared, there was simply a bar that would increase or decrease the amount of vibrations. “Ready?” he said, his cock already standing tall. 

“Yeah,” you said. The lube was cold, but the sensation soon changed to pressure as you inserted the vibrator. It wasn’t as big as Matt, nor was it as thick, but the idea of you using it and him in control made you more horny than anything. 

Matt pressed his sensitive tip on the stroker, he shuddered, swallowing his saliva as he slowly inserted his cock. You could hear each other moan, the vibrator finally inside you. “Fuck—I wish it was your hole I’m fucking right now.” 

“I wish it was your cock too,” you moaned, slowly pushing and pulling on the toy. You squirmed in your sofa, lewd sounds spewing from your mouth as you gained more momentum. Matt did the same, he was gripping onto the stroker so tight his knuckles were white. He wanted to stroke harder, but he didn’t want to come fast. 

Matt pressed on his phone, bringing the vibrator to the first level. You gasped from the sudden intensity, your feet kicking as you whimpered. That only egged Matt on, he was stroking and twisting the toy on the head of his cock where it was most sensitive, he spewed different curses as he stroked. “You sound so good, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.”

“Feels—so good,” you said, your voice shaking. 

“Feels better than me?”

“No—not better,” you gasp again as Matt increased the level to five. Shit, shit, shit. Your neck was extended, your hip lifting off the sofa as the toy stayed inside you, your cock a leaking mess. “But—it’s making me lose my fucking mind.”

“You can’t imagine how hard that makes me,” he said. “This stroker isn’t as good as you by the way, it’s tight but not as tight, I have to grip it hard just to even come close to how you feel. But—fuck—I can’t stop imagining you here, riding my cock.”

“I wouldn’t stop,” you said, “I want to see you turn red and weak from me riding it.”

Matt felt his orgasm come closer, he didn’t want this to end. He scrolled the app to its highest setting, you let out a loud whimper, your tip continued to leak, your legs shaking and losing control. You cursed, begging Matt to fuck you when you came home. 

“Fuck—I can’t take it anymore,” you said, your chest heaving. Sweat dripped down Matt’s forehead, his hips already rising from his seat to fuck the stroker, he knew he was leaking more and more onto the toy, which only contributed to its slickness. 

“Cum for me,” he said. “Cum for me, my love. I’m almost there.”

In the three counts you could hear him let out a loud and raspy fuck. He removed the stroker before shooting cum all over his bare chest and abdomen. You spasmed and writhed on the sofa, cum shooting all over you. 

You both laid on the couch gasping for air. Matt had turned off the toy, his wrist hurted from the stroking. “I’m coming home tomorrow,” you said, chasing your breath. “My boss said my tasks were done so I could—come home.”

“Then prepare for much worse, because we’re not sleeping when you come home,” the both of you laughed. And, indeed, it was much much worse.

if you likes this fic go check out some of my other stuff! want to request? don't be shy to send one! Also do tell me if you want to be on a taglist?

[sideblogofhell]

non compos mentis

summary: a dance of shared madness between an emperor and a gladiator pairing: emperor caracalla x male reader word count: 2k warning: male reader smut!

| masterlist |

No wine is as rich and pure as spilled blood. War is the currency of power, a language that the human mind revels in but few commit to.

Through endless conquest and war, true victory was attained in the land of Rome. The ruthless empire capitalized on man’s bestial nature, to use his wrath to gain gold and dominion over far reached lands. 

Rome’s thirst for violence was unquenched. The people of the empire sought out the amusement of death and war inside its walls, inside the Colosseum. None have been as thirsty and as ruthless as the younger twin emperor, Caracalla. His sick and twisted mind has brought Rome to its knees. 

There were whispers of his dalliances, specifically in the senate. There were rumors that the emperor had once killed a boy when he was only ten and three because the boy was gifted a tunic that he deemed “was much softer” than his. 

Now, he sat at the balcony inside the arena, gazing upon the dirtied men slashing their swords and hitting their shields. He laughed, shouting at his servants to pour more wine as he clapped as one more savage fell on his knees, disemboweled. 

“Did you see that, brother?” he laughed. 

The man holding the sword that disemboweled the man was you. Hands gripping the rusty knife as sweat pooled on your palms causing the hilt to slip. Another one of your opponents lunges forward, battle axe in hand. You duck and roll on the sandy floor, looking at him with hooded eyes. His stance was weak, his left leg was obviously cut along a deep ligament. 

Gritting your teeth, you ran towards him crouched forward like a wounded lion. You rammed your head on his abdomen, a yelp escaping his mouth. He staggered back, blood gushing down his mouth. You took the knife and drove it alongside the already open wound on his thigh. The man shouts and pleas for mercy as you twisted the blade, blood gushing and pooling down the sand. 

You took no satisfaction from his cries. The man was kneeling, blood pooling on his knees. You took the battle axe from his hand swinging it with the force of your whole body. The crowd gasps in horror and amusement.

Above the columns was Caracalla in his seat. He was in awe, no man has shown such viciousness in the arena. You stood in front of the emperors, a severed head in your hand. You raised the head in pride, shouting a lion’s roar. 

“Marvelous!” shouted Caracalla, “it’s fucking marvelous!” 

The fierce gladiator ravaged through the arena floor with great swiftness, your feet were light and fast, slicing through men and leaving a trail of corpses. You screamed in pride, blood trickling down your forehead as you pounded your chest. “veni ad me, te arcesso” come to me, I summon you. 

Caracalla gestured for a servant boy. “I want him,” he pointed at you. “Guarantee me safe passage to his chambers tonight.” The younger emperor smirked in his seat.

The cell was cold and damp, moss draped the stone walls of the cell, a small slit in the corner of the room let in a faint ray of moonlight. Nails cracked inside the rotten wooden stool as you rocked in your cell out of boredom, only a ragged piece of cloth covering your groin. 

The guards entered the dungeon, shackling keys on their hips as they walked. Behind them was a cloaked figure, the fabric a clean parchment shade trimmed with gold. They opened the doors to let him in, a small monkey draping his shoulder.

“Gladiator,” the man spoke, revealing a short and small framed boy with fiery red hair. You glanced upon him, eyes a cold shade of blue. His face was gaunt and pale, eyes sunken and reddened. You noticed a small gold tooth when he smiled. 

“I’m not a whore,” you said, standing up to notice you towered over him. He gestured for the guards to take the pet, the creature sneaking out of his shoulders to the guard’s. 

“A nobleman would comport himself in the presence of his emperor,” he said, his hands cold on your face, adorned with golden rings of different colored stones. He inspected your face and your wounds, a concerned look on his face. 

“I’m not a nobleman,” you said, eyebrow raised. 

“You are not,” he chuckled. “They call you the butcher, the same name they called Achilles during war.”

“Would you strike my heel then?” The emperor snickered, he trailed around you inspecting each detail of your naked form. “Or would you parade me as a hero and set me free from this torment.” 

“A price must be paid,” Caracalla said, his finger trailing down your chest and barely touching your nipple, a wave of electricity coursing through your veins. “In exchange for good favors.”

It was common for some gladiators to seek favors from rich men who would pay and smuggle gifts in exchange for their services. You had not known any gladiator who was paid by the emperor, so you must have done something to amuse him. 

“Many slave boys have been to my chambers,”  he said, removing his robe and letting it fall on the damp floor. He wore a red and gold tunic from a silk you have not seen before. “But your wrath has made my cock harder than any whore could offer.” 

A price must be paid.

Caracalla palmed his erection underneath his garbs, you could hear the slick of his cock as he started to stroke. You grit your teeth, your heart pounded loudly, embracing the lengths you have to cross to gain your freedom. The young emperor’s back slammed onto the brick wall, a yelp escaping his lips. Your large frame shadowed over him, his icy blue eyes staring at you with wonton fervor. 

A calloused hand touched Caracalla’s aching cock, the pink tip leaking clear fluid as you stroked. He moaned and whimpered under your touch, his knees buckling and seeking refuge from the wall for balance. Your other hand gripped on his jaw, forcing it so his face was set on yours. 

“Open your mouth, emperor,” you said. He followed willingly, you let a string of spit fall on his mouth before you forced him on his knees. You presented your hard cock in front of his lips, he engulfed it without prior notice, sucking impatiently. “Take that fucking cock. You like being a whore do you not?”

Caracalla wanted to speak, but your hand on his fiery red hair did not permit him from taking his stand. The young emperor continued to stroke his cock, it leaked so much precum it was slippery and wet. He continued to moan and whimper, eyes rolling back in euphoria. 

You pulled him back up before pulling his ass to face your crotch. Saliva dripped down his swollen red lips. Caracalla laughed under his breath, the act of being used by the vicious gladiator satisfied the craving in the pits of his core. “You like this?”

“Yes—so fucking much,”  Caracalla said, rubbing his clothed ass on your erection. The image of a royal being an absolute whore for you turned you on, having this much power over him made you leak too. A loud rip cracked through the dungeon, the emperor’s expensive tunic hung on the floor now muddied. You took the loose loincloth that covered his groin, bunching it into a ball and forcing it on Caracalla’s mouth.

“If this falls off your mouth I will call the guards so they can see their emperor be used as a whore,” you said, before spitting on your cock. “Do you understand?”

He nods, eyes rolling back again as you push your cock inside his tight hole. It was hot inside, it was so tight it felt like it was sucking your cock deeper in. You cursed under your breath, grabbing onto his hair so tightly it stung. 

You braced for what was to come, pushing your cock in and out of his tight hole. Caracalla cried with the gag on his mouth, tears forming at the corner of his eyes. Another one of your hands gripped on his waist, leaving dirt and red marks on his pale white skin. 

Caracalla’s waist was small, his body was littered with red bits of hair. You toyed with his leaking cock, it was smaller than yours but a bit thicker. You stroked his wet cock as you fucked your fill. Sweat dripped down your whole body, the air was now hot and thick, the only thing running through your mind was using this boy’s hole. 

“Fuck you’re tight,” you groaned. 

You notice his knees go weak, his hands plastered on the wall as he tries to keep his balance. Caracalla was close, his vision already turning white by how good it felt. You slapped his ass multiple times, his pale ass was now red with welts. The emperor cursed when you took the gag off, dropping it to the floor. 

You could feel your climax coming, you hugged an arm around his waist, your other hand wrapped around his neck. Caracalla was begging for you to go faster, harder, he ordered for no mercy to be given him. Your face was nestled in the corner of his neck and his shoulder, smelled like flowers and wine. 

Battle drew out an animal in you that was begging to be let out at this moment. The royal with fiery red hair was right, this perverted act brought out more pleasure than a hundred killings in the arena. “Fuck—fuck—take my fucking load you whore.”

The both of you moaned as you took your release, your cum emptying inside the Caracalla’s warm entrance. Your hand was covered in his cum, the climax taking a toll on his body. Caracalla sat on his muddied garb, cheeks flushed, and cock soft but still a bright red. You licked the cum on your hand, it tasted salty and sweet. 

You pressed your lips against Caracalla’s, letting your tongue touch his. The emperor tasted his own release on your tongue, in a perverted act of union. You both sat on the floor, glistening in sweat and cum, your chests heaving. 

“I have never been fucked like that,” Caracalla muttered. “You are more beast than man, gladiator.”

“You would be surprised as to where your desires can lead you,” You said, using his loincloth to wipe the cum from your cock. 

Caracalla straddled your thighs, his cock standing up north again. His pupils were dilated and his breath wavering like a hungry dog. “I would like to lose myself in you, gladiator. Do that to me again and I will grant whatever you wish.”

“The only thing I want is for you to embrace your true self,” you said. “Come to me so I can show you how much our carnality can bring you closer to the gates of Elysium.” 

Caracalla thinks to himself, as if a switch was turned off. He hears the voice of his brother deep inside his head. You insolent fool, you take our power and smear it on a slave? 

“Shut up—shut up!” Caracalla shouted, slamming his palms on his temples. You were befuddled, the younger boy grit his teeth. “No, not you, gladiator. It is my brother, I hear him in the quiet nights, he whispers to torment me!”

The rumors were indeed true, hidden underneath the emperor’s carnality and seriousness was a deep seeded madness. It was pitiful, but a chink in a series of chains that could easily be bent to your favor. 

“Then kill him,” you said. “You are the emperor Caracalla, all of Rome knows of your strength and wrath.” 

The dark corridors of the dungeon echoed Caracalla’s wicked laugh. 

“It is done,” you said. “Seeds of suspicion have been planted deep in his mind.”

The man on the other side of the iron bars chuckled. His hand reached for a key dislodging the lock of the cell door. He tossed a bag of gold coins on the ground near your feet. 

“A price has been paid.”

His gold necklaces and piercings glinted against the sunlight, his hand waved like a ray of colors through the jewels. “You are a free man, gladiator.”

As you tried to leave the cell the man blocked your path, his jewelry clinking onto each other like a sack of coins. He presented his pronated hand in front of your face, a gold signet ring adorning his finger.  “Is that how you show gratitude to your new emperor?” The smile on your face fades, the new emperor of Rome stood in front of you. You bowed and kissed his ring. Emperor Macrinus.

if you likes this fic go check out some of my other stuff! want to request? don't be shy to send one!

[sideblogofhell]

hey yall im back!!

in vino veritas

summary: the emperors have given the general gift. pairing: general marcus acacius x male reader word count: 1.7k warnings: smut, rough dom, top marcus, bottom male reader, sex pollen pic a/n: im seeing the movie tomorrow!

masterlist

A chill rolled down the general’s spine as he entered the throne room. Two golden chairs sat atop a dais, shining under the sunlight. Seated were the emperor’s with their bone white togas and their red hair. Acacius has seen great monsters in his conquests, but none as bloodthirsty and mad as these two. 

He was still bloodied from battle, dirt and soot covered his body, his chestplate dented and scratched. He dropped his sword on the marble floor, the clang of metal echoing the palace walls. 

“You have brought great honor to Rome, General,” the Emperor Geta said. His golden eyes gleaming with pride and greed under the sunlight. He gestures at the servants below the dais, where they fetch the general’s sword and pour him a glass of wine. The Emperor takes a sip of wine, the corners of his mouth smirking roguishly. 

“A feast must be made in your honor,” the younger emperor shouted in joy. “With the finest meals and a celebration in the colosseum!” 

“None is required, my emperors,” the general spoke. “I only wish for someone to tend to my wounds and a soft bed to lay in tonight.” 

He took a sip of his wine, the bitterness helped distract the ache in his body. He saw Caracalla whispering something to his brother, snickering and chuckling under his breath. Geta’s eyes widened, a smile forming from his lips. 

“Very well,” Geta clapped. 

The sound of his clap echoed in the room, a ringing sound forming in the general’s ears. He staggered back, his vision blurring—almost black. The wine, he thought. He fell hard on the floor, his body numb. He saw the two emperors walk down the dais, towering over him like roman statues of the gods. They both laughed maniacally

“In vit veritas, General.” In wine, there is truth. 

Marcus Acacius woke up from the sound of a fallen metal bowl. It was night time, the torches in the room were lit. He wasn’t in the throne room anymore, yet the fineries in the architecture and the furniture in the room signaled that he was still in the palace. 

“Forgive me, general,” you said. Picking up the fallen bowl and the cloth bandages scattered on the floor. You had tended to the general’s wounds. There weren’t many but it was imperative they be cleaned to reduce any infection. “How are you feeling?”

You saw the general rise from his bed, his wide frame casting shadows on the bed. He wore nothing but the bandages you wrapped around his chest and the silk blanket that covered his privates. He groaned, his voice hoarse and deep. “Fine I suppose, a bit sore.”

“That is to be expected. Your injuries, though minor, will take a few days to heal.” you said. You couldn’t help but stare at him, even as you cleaned his wounds. His thick wavy hair that you brushed until the dried blood came off. His tanned skin and his broken nose. You admired every feature almost as if you were looking at a god on earth. 

“They laced my drink with something, what was it?” Marcus spoke. His hands brushed over his thick thighs, bending down while his hair fell on his face. “I feel feverish and weak.”

“A flower from one of Rome’s colonies, once dried it turns into a fine powder that can be mixed into wine. It is undetectable from smell or taste,” You said. Fear rose to your throat. In front of you was the most dangerous man in Rome. Despite his weakness you knew, surely, he can kill you with ease. “In small doses it could be a sort of aphrodisiac the emperors have been using in their—parties. Large amounts can be quite lethal.”

The general tried to stand but to no avail. You rushed quickly to his aid. It was true, you tried to cradle his muscular arms and they were hot to the touch. He groaned, grabbing onto your arm tightly. The silk shifted under his legs, your eyes widened to see the silk was bulging. “Fuck,” he moaned. 

“General,” you said in shock. 

“Tell me, boy,” his eyes were sharp like knives and dark like an abyss. “Is this part of their games?”

“This is a part of its effects, that is the truth,” you said, your face was close to his, his hand still gripping onto your arm. His breath was hot against your lips. But trust me, general, I had no part in this.”

“What will make it go away then?” he said, the silk pulled down the soft v of his pelvis, you could see the hint of hair in the middle. 

“Time is the only cure. It will take until sunrise for the effects to subside,” you said. He cursed under his breath, sweat dripping down his temples. You pushed his hair back, your fingers cold against his skin. You rested your knee on the bed, your other hand caressing his broad shoulders. “But if there is anything I can do to help, my general.”

His hands wrapped around your neck, tight. His eyes stared at you with his brows furrowed. He dragged you down to the bed. He was now on top of you, he was wide and strong, his breath labored. His hands pinned you down, his nails digging into your skin. He dove down to your neck kissing you. Nibbling and licking down your skin. You tasted of salt and flowers, oddly sweet. 

“You will serve me, boy,” he said. “Until sunrise.”

You nodded. He ripped off your toga, tossing it aside, lost in the sea of silk. He continued to take his time on your body, kissing and sucking leaving marks all over. You moaned from his wet lips and his warm tongue, which trailed down your chest to your perked nipples. You could feel his rough facial hair scrape your skin, it stung but it sent more shivers through your body. 

“Then let me serve you,” You said, slowly changing places so that he was sitting on the bed, and you straddling his muscular thighs. You placed a kiss on his lips, which tasted of dried blood. He pulled you closer, kissing you roughly while you fought to take in the air. His tongue mixed with yours changing each other's taste. When you pulled back to breathe you saw that his pupils were dilated. 

You continued to trail kisses on his ear, slowly tracing the tip of your tongue down his neck and to his chest. You did the same with his nipples, licking and teasing which made him moan. It was godly, the way he sounded. Such brute strength in the battlefield long gone under your touch. Your hand went down to the growing ache in his center. His cock was aching hard and thick, the tip leaking. When you touched the bead of cum he shivered and cursed. You went down to place soft kisses around the shaft, taking in his soldier’s scent. You placed the pad of your tongue under the shaft and licked to taste the tip, engulfing the head as you went down—deep. 

“Fuck,” he said, his chest rising and falling. You sucked down and hollowed your cheeks as you came up, releasing the head with a loud pop. He placed a hand on your head and pushed you back down. You bobbed on his cock feverishly as he moaned more and more. He was shaking a bit, his hands pulling on your hair as he fucked into your throat. Tears formed in your eyes as you took his thickness deeper into your throat. You could feel him getting close which is why he released his hold on you, you clutched your throat and coughed up. His thick cock was glistening wet with your spit, the tip a deep red. 

“Have you ever been with a soldier?” he said, panting. You shook your head, wiping your tears and your lips on the silk. “Then come here, boy. Let me show you how a soldier of Rome takes his price.” 

You held onto his shoulders for balance. He guided his cock into your hole, slowly pulling on your waist until he was fully inside. You dipped your head on the corner of his neck, slowly moving your hips in a rocking motion. You moaned in his ears like a wanton mess. His arms hugged your waist and pushed you deeper down his cock. He pulled on your hair to continue on leaving marks on your neck and chest. 

His hands wrapped around your neck as he kissed you more, his other hand found to stroke your hardness, your tip leaking a mess down his hand that made his strokes more slick. You were in ecstasy, like the drug had worked itself into your body as well. You went off his lap and sunk down on the bed with your face down on the silk, presenting your behind for him to use. He was like a lion eager for his prey. He took your hair and rammed his cock into you again. Fucking into you with so much force you could feel whatever expensive wood that was used on the bed creak. He panted like a man tired from a day’s work. His other hand pressing down your back so your ass arched more. 

“I am close,” he moaned. 

“Please, general, fill me,” you said. He pushed your face deeper down the bed, it felt as if he was crushing your skull. His thrusts became erratic and labored. The rhythm faltered from his sheer strength. He released with a strong grunt. His seed filled into your hole which made you feel full and warm. He collapsed on your back like a heavy bear. You tried to capture your breath. Slowly pushing him off.  You stood up to take back your toga, the sun peering from the horizon. You sat on the window with a watering can in your hands. You slowly poured water on the bright blue flower on your windowsill, a bag of gold coins next to it. You chuckled, the same chuckle Geta and Caracalla would do. “In vito veritas,” you smiled. Admiring the big man snoring on your bed.

hey y'all I'm back! please like and reblog with your thoughts I'd love to hear them! And if you have any more sweet sweet prompts about Marcus or any of Pedro's characters do send them on my inbox!

[sideblogofhell]

in vino veritas

summary: the emperors have given the general gift. pairing: general marcus acacius x male reader word count: 1.7k warnings: smut, rough dom, top Marcs, bottom male reader, sex pollen pic a/n: im seeing the movie tomorrow!

masterlist

A chill rolled down the general’s spine as he entered the throne room. Two golden chairs sat atop a dais, shining under the sunlight. Seated were the emperor’s with their bone white togas and their red hair. Acacius has seen great monsters in his conquests, but none as bloodthirsty and mad as these two. 

He was still bloodied from battle, dirt and soot covered his body, his chestplate dented and scratched. He dropped his sword on the marble floor, the clang of metal echoing the palace walls. 

“You have brought great honor to Rome, General,” the Emperor Geta said. His golden eyes gleaming with pride and greed under the sunlight. He gestures at the servants below the dais, where they fetch the general’s sword and pour him a glass of wine. The Emperor takes a sip of wine, the corners of his mouth smirking roguishly. 

“A feast must be made in your honor,” the younger emperor shouted in joy. “With the finest meals and a celebration in the colosseum!” 

“None is required, my emperors,” the general spoke. “I only wish for someone to tend to my wounds and a soft bed to lay in tonight.” 

He took a sip of his wine, the bitterness helped distract the ache in his body. He saw Caracalla whispering something to his brother, snickering and chuckling under his breath. Geta’s eyes widened, a smile forming from his lips. 

“Very well,” Geta clapped. 

The sound of his clap echoed in the room, a ringing sound forming in the general’s ears. He staggered back, his vision blurring—almost black. The wine, he thought. He fell hard on the floor, his body numb. He saw the two emperors walk down the dais, towering over him like roman statues of the gods. They both laughed maniacally

“In vit veritas, General.” In wine, there is truth. 

Marcus Acacius woke up from the sound of a fallen metal bowl. It was night time, the torches in the room were lit. He wasn’t in the throne room anymore, yet the fineries in the architecture and the furniture in the room signaled that he was still in the palace. 

“Forgive me, general,” you said. Picking up the fallen bowl and the cloth bandages scattered on the floor. You had tended to the general’s wounds. There weren’t many but it was imperative they be cleaned to reduce any infection. “How are you feeling?”

You saw the general rise from his bed, his wide frame casting shadows on the bed. He wore nothing but the bandages you wrapped around his chest and the silk blanket that covered his privates. He groaned, his voice hoarse and deep. “Fine I suppose, a bit sore.”

“That is to be expected. Your injuries, though minor, will take a few days to heal.” you said. You couldn’t help but stare at him, even as you cleaned his wounds. His thick wavy hair that you brushed until the dried blood came off. His tanned skin and his broken nose. You admired every feature almost as if you were looking at a god on earth. 

“They laced my drink with something, what was it?” Marcus spoke. His hands brushed over his thick thighs, bending down while his hair fell on his face. “I feel feverish and weak.”

“A flower from one of Rome’s colonies, once dried it turns into a fine powder that can be mixed into wine. It is undetectable from smell or taste,” You said. Fear rose to your throat. In front of you was the most dangerous man in Rome. Despite his weakness you knew, surely, he can kill you with ease. “In small doses it could be a sort of aphrodisiac the emperors have been using in their—parties. Large amounts can be quite lethal.”

The general tried to stand but to no avail. You rushed quickly to his aid. It was true, you tried to cradle his muscular arms and they were hot to the touch. He groaned, grabbing onto your arm tightly. The silk shifted under his legs, your eyes widened to see the silk was bulging. “Fuck,” he moaned. 

“General,” you said in shock. 

“Tell me, boy,” his eyes were sharp like knives and dark like an abyss. “Is this part of their games?”

“This is a part of its effects, that is the truth,” you said, your face was close to his, his hand still gripping onto your arm. His breath was hot against your lips. But trust me, general, I had no part in this.”

“What will make it go away then?” he said, the silk pulled down the soft v of his pelvis, you could see the hint of hair in the middle. 

“Time is the only cure. It will take until sunrise for the effects to subside,” you said. He cursed under his breath, sweat dripping down his temples. You pushed his hair back, your fingers cold against his skin. You rested your knee on the bed, your other hand caressing his broad shoulders. “But if there is anything I can do to help, my general.”

His hands wrapped around your neck, tight. His eyes stared at you with his brows furrowed. He dragged you down to the bed. He was now on top of you, he was wide and strong, his breath labored. His hands pinned you down, his nails digging into your skin. He dove down to your neck kissing you. Nibbling and licking down your skin. You tasted of salt and flowers, oddly sweet. 

“You will serve me, boy,” he said. “Until sunrise.”

You nodded. He ripped off your toga, tossing it aside, lost in the sea of silk. He continued to take his time on your body, kissing and sucking leaving marks all over. You moaned from his wet lips and his warm tongue, which trailed down your chest to your perked nipples. You could feel his rough facial hair scrape your skin, it stung but it sent more shivers through your body. 

“Then let me serve you,” You said, slowly changing places so that he was sitting on the bed, and you straddling his muscular thighs. You placed a kiss on his lips, which tasted of dried blood. He pulled you closer, kissing you roughly while you fought to take in the air. His tongue mixed with yours changing each other's taste. When you pulled back to breathe you saw that his pupils were dilated. 

You continued to trail kisses on his ear, slowly tracing the tip of your tongue down his neck and to his chest. You did the same with his nipples, licking and teasing which made him moan. It was godly, the way he sounded. Such brute strength in the battlefield long gone under your touch. Your hand went down to the growing ache in his center. His cock was aching hard and thick, the tip leaking. When you touched the bead of cum he shivered and cursed. You went down to place soft kisses around the shaft, taking in his soldier’s scent. You placed the pad of your tongue under the shaft and licked to taste the tip, engulfing the head as you went down—deep. 

“Fuck,” he said, his chest rising and falling. You sucked down and hollowed your cheeks as you came up, releasing the head with a loud pop. He placed a hand on your head and pushed you back down. You bobbed on his cock feverishly as he moaned more and more. He was shaking a bit, his hands pulling on your hair as he fucked into your throat. Tears formed in your eyes as you took his thickness deeper into your throat. You could feel him getting close which is why he released his hold on you, you clutched your throat and coughed up. His thick cock was glistening wet with your spit, the tip a deep red. 

“Have you ever been with a soldier?” he said, panting. You shook your head, wiping your tears and your lips on the silk. “Then come here, boy. Let me show you how a soldier of Rome takes his price.” 

You held onto his shoulders for balance. He guided his cock into your hole, slowly pulling on your waist until he was fully inside. You dipped your head on the corner of his neck, slowly moving your hips in a rocking motion. You moaned in his ears like a wanton mess. His arms hugged your waist and pushed you deeper down his cock. He pulled on your hair to continue on leaving marks on your neck and chest. 

His hands wrapped around your neck as he kissed you more, his other hand found to stroke your hardness, your tip leaking a mess down his hand that made his strokes more slick. You were in ecstasy, like the drug had worked itself into your body as well. You went off his lap and sunk down on the bed with your face down on the silk, presenting your behind for him to use. He was like a lion eager for his prey. He took your hair and rammed his cock into you again. Fucking into you with so much force you could feel whatever expensive wood that was used on the bed creak. He panted like a man tired from a day’s work. His other hand pressing down your back so your ass arched more. 

“I am close,” he moaned. 

“Please, general, fill me,” you said. He pushed your face deeper down the bed, it felt as if he was crushing your skull. His thrusts became erratic and labored. The rhythm faltered from his sheer strength. He released with a strong grunt. His seed filled into your hole which made you feel full and warm. He collapsed on your back like a heavy bear. You tried to capture your breath. Slowly pushing him off.  You stood up to take back your toga, the sun peering from the horizon. You sat on the window with a watering can in your hands. You slowly poured water on the bright blue flower on your windowsill, a bag of gold coins next to it. You chuckled, the same chuckle Geta and Caracalla would do. “In vito veritas,” you smiled. Admiring the big man snoring on your bed.

hey y'all I'm back! please like and reblog with your thoughts I'd love to hear them! And if you have any more sweet sweet prompts about Marcus or any of Pedro's characters do send them on my inbox!

[sideblogofhell]

time's wasting, tick-tocking, lip locking

summary: spider-man meets an unlikely friend(or foe) to help him retrieve an important package. pairing: tasm!peter parker x male reader word count: 1.8k warnings: fluff, suggestive stuff, black cat reader, light smut, they're not friends sorta enemies if you think about it. a/n: a request from an anon! btw you could end it to a certain part if you just want the banter and the fluff but yall this is a hellsburners production we're serving smut here

masterlist | more peter parker

The air was quite chilly atop this building, the spandex not warming his body. Spider-man rubbed his gloved hands together for some heat, his legs bent over the ledge of the building, his eyes scanning the dock below. Twenty-four men loading wooden crates into shipping containers with the words Roxxon Energy Corp.

He swung down behind a shipping crate, crawling to the top unbeknownst to the men. His webs thwip across the snowy dock, disarming three men. Their bodies bonded together, and their mouths shut. He swings again, landing next to four other men, their rifles pointing at him.

Peter webs for two opposite poles and slingshots himself to the men, kicking one over while disarming the others; more men come rushing with baseball bats and crowbars. They try to hit Peter, his senses blazing from each attack; he ducks and avoids each blow, pulling on a few webs to tie them up.

Five more men come from inside the shipping container, loaded with pistols and rifles, but before they can come out, a small silver ball rolls from the top of the container, falling down and releasing white smoke.

Peter could hear the men choke and cough as a figure came down and took them individually. He did the same, taking the moment when the men were disarmed to land a few kicks and punches, leaving them unconscious.

He runs to the shipping container as the smoke wears off. The crates were ripped open with bear-like claw marks, the contents of the boxes now gone. He hears footsteps from his far left, the shadowy figure creeping against the moonlight. Peter webs his way to run after it. The cold slowed him down, his feet much heavier and his hands numb.

He shoots a web that lands on the figure's back. He turns to a man wearing a black coat with white fur on the hood and its sleeves. He sees your face, black-masked, dark hair with streaks of silver, a black satchel wrapped around your shoulder. The Black Cat.

You gave him a wink before falling back on the ledge of the building. Peter jumps, finding you at the bottom, waiting for him. He webs down slowly, landing on his feet. Your back against a wall, your clawed fingers wrapped around the clear vial with silvery-purple liquid.

"Need this?" you said, vapor appearing from your lips. "Nice to see you again, Spider."

"I would say the same, but I don't share the sentiment," he said, walking towards you. "Can we skip the small talk and give me that vial?"

"Ooh, you know it's not that easy," you said, putting the vial back in your bag. "Besides, don't you miss me?" you pout.

"I—no!" Peter said, his voice erratic. "Shame," you smirked, dropping another smoke bomb before disappearing from his sight.

"Hey!" he screamed. You were ahead a few blocks. He swung across a few other buildings and tried to chase you down. You grappled down a busy street, your coat blending in with civilians in their winter clothes. "Fuck," he sighed. "Lucky me, I've been trying to test these out," he said, taking his phone out to see the red dot on the city map, a tracker placed on your back when he ran after you.

He traced you down, riding a black car heading out of the city. Peter reloaded his web-shooters and braced for the trip. He swung from building to building until he landed on a truck heading in the same direction. His joints started to stiffen, his nape cold and aching.

You entered a safe house on the city's outskirts, a brutalist bare building with a white car parked outside. Peter found you dealing with—Richard Fisk, the Kingpin's son, calls himself The Rose. You hand him the bag of vials. You await payment before his men point their guns at you. Peter knows you. This isn't something you could run away from easily. Fisk turns away and leaves in his white car, leaving you with six men with loaded guns.

Peter jumps down to your aid, unarming two men before landing a solid blow on the others. You take this moment to kick the other man right across his face. He saw you move with grace and agility, your gymnast background aiding your fight.

The men all ended up unconscious on the pavement. Blood drips down your lips, and no one gets away with scamming you. "So, was it worth it?" Spider-man said.

"Don't piss me off," you said, rubbing the back of your hand against your bloodied lip. "This never happens."

"Well, it just did," he said. "That vial could've helped me to take them down, but now they have it!"

"I'm not a hero, Spider," you snickered. "I don't do this for good. I do this so I can live," you walked towards the door, the metal ice cold. You try to slide the entrance to the side, but the gate does not budge. You snarled, trying to pull it back. "Shit, I think it's stuck."

"What?" Peter said. "Let me see," he tried to do the same, but the door still didn't budge despite his strength. "Fuck, they must've closed us off—the snow isn't helping either." Peter punched the door in anger, leaving a giant dent.

"There must be another exit—or a window," you said. The room slowly turned colder. You tried to wrap your fur coat around your body, your breath leaving hot vapor. Loud bangs from Peter's fists filled the room, but the door never moved.

"I checked before coming in. There isn't one," Peter took off his mark, panting while vapor left his lips. You looked at him. He was older since you last met, the circles under his eyes darker, his face riddled with stubble, his hair longer and messier. The cold fogged your goggles up, so you took them off and left them on a table nearby.

The two of you rummaged all over the safe house, looking for materials to use or food and other things. Peter found an old lab coat to wrap himself with, and you found a box of canned tuna, some old crackers—and one sleeping bag.

Peter tried his cell, but there was no signal. "We're going to be here for a while," you said. "Shouldn't we bundle up and stay warm, like old times."

"Not happening," Peter said, shivering under his breath.

"Your loss," you ripped a claw on the box of biscuits and took a bite. "Ugh, it's stale."

Hours passed with Peter running around the safe house, looking for an exit. On the other hand, you lay on the sleeping bag with your hands behind your head. You took a file from your pocket and filed your claws into peak sharpness. Peter sighed under his breath every time he passed by you. "You're a pain in the ass, Cat."

"From what I remember, you gave me a pain in the ass, Spider," you chuckled. "Kidding, it wasn't all pain."

"I'm fucking freezing," Peter said, rubbing his body to make some heat.

"I told you we should bundle up," you said. "Plus, it's getting late, and I'm sleepy."

Peter rolled his eyes and joined you in the sleeping bag. The two of you were wrapped like a burrito, his face too close to yours. His brown eyes stared intently, his long lashes batting at you. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. His eyes widened, and a soft moan left his lips. "Wrap your arms around me, too," you said. His large arms snaked around you, creating heat.

"Wood sage and Sea salt?" you whispered, smelling his neck. He chuckled and nodded. "I missed you, Spider. Honestly,"

"I missed you too," he said, his voice stern. "Where did you go, Cat?"

"Tried to live a normal life, it didn't end well for me," your gaze trailed away from his eyes, your hand finding his soft brown hair. "I guess this is me forever, running and stealing."

"It doesn't have to be like that. You could work with me, and we could be good," Peter said, his palms rubbing your lower back. "Live with me."

"I'll think about it," you said, your hands falling to his cheeks. It was warm against his cold skin. You inched closer, pressing your lips to his. You closed your eyes and delved deeper into the kiss. His hand snaked underneath your clothes, cold fingertips against your bare skin. You wrapped your thigh around his, his knee hitting your center. The two of you moaned from the kiss, hands searching each other's bodies.

You straddled Peter's waist rubbing your ass on his growing erection. His hands wrapped around your ass, pulling you closer. He whimpers on your lips, shaking from the pleasure and the cold. "Cat—" he moaned. You pepper his neck with kisses, licking and sucking, leaving red marks.

He pulls you back to the kiss, his arms hugging you tighter as his sex rubs on your ass. He rubs against you, moaning and whimpering while you moan from his tight embrace. He grips your waist, fingers digging into your skin. "Fuck—Spider, you good?" you gasped.

"I missed you, and I need you," he said. "Please be with me. I'll take care of you, protect you," his eyes stared at yours. "You won't run ever again."

"I'll think about it," you said again, an ache forming in your chest. Knowing it will never be normal with him.

"Fuck–I'm close," he moaned.

You pulled him in for a last kiss for a long while. Peter finishes under his suit, his face red and his hair drenched in sweat. You later passed out on the sleeping bag, your arms draped around each other, Peter's lips pressing on your forehead as you succumbed to the night.

Peter woke up to a banging on the door. "We know you're in there, Cat! Give us the real vial, or we'll kill you!" a bunch of men surrounded the lot, hands on their guns. He saw that you were gone, a hole formed on the ceiling, sunlight peering in, a black satchel on the spot where you slept. Inside were the vials and a note.

Sorry, I couldn't stay for breakfast. I had to go real quick. I left the vials for you. Do whatever is right. You always do the right thing. And you'll probably not see me again but don't miss me too much. I know I will.

Xoxo, Cat.