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desiresin · 1 day ago

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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!

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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.

enjoyed the fic? like/comment/reblog to show your love! requests are open btw

#charlikes ! ₍^. .^₎Ⳋ

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desiresin · 2 days ago

Note

It’s so good to see a Pedro Pascal X Male Reader writer. Do you do RPF? (If not I’d love to see some Reed Richards) especially a Professor X Student scenario

A late night with Pedro Pascal.

pairing: Pedro Pascal x male reader (plus size)

summary: it's Pedro's final night in Paris. Unusually, as the night draws closer to the next day, he falls oddly quiet, as if he has something he needs to get off his chest.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, Pedro Pascal RPF (real person fiction), unprotected sex, rub reader, bot! reader, first person, p in a, kissing, swearing, anal, fingering, choking, analingus, cockwarming, smoking, cigarettes, creampie

word count: ~4900

authors note: requests are always open! also pls give feedback still new to writing. if you don't like the concept or idea of writing about a real person I promise I don't have a parasocial obsession with Pedro Pascal.

》》》》》◆《《《《《

The night air was infused with the cigarette smoke billowing from my lips. It whispered around my face, curtaining my view of Paris below. The city was oddly quiet from the balcony, dulled by the thin layer of fog stretching over the roads, warping the lights into an impressionist painting. There was a stillness in the air, and I watched as the cigarette smoke curled and bathed in the night. Illuminated by the warm lamp beside me, its tendrils stretched across the balcony, out into the city. As I inhaled, I revelled in the dull feeling, my senses dwarfed, replaced by the buzz. I smiled into it, enjoying the peace it brought. I watched the smoke’s playful character, entranced by its slow waltz in chorus with the noises of the city.

As I leaned against the bannister, I felt the presence of Pedro moving up behind me, resting beside me on the balcony, back towards the cityscape. His face was turned to me, softened by the dim light. Wordlessly, I passed him the cigarette, with a small “thanks” in return. He has just finished his shoot here, a small editorial. His trip to Paris was short, but I had managed to steal his last night to myself: I had forced him to peruse local bars and cafes alongside me, sipping wine and cocktails, smoking cigarette after cigarette whilst we watched the people flurry past us. We reminisced about how we met, only a few months ago. I was sitting alone outside some random cafe, when he had come up to me, asking me for a light. That day, I remember we spoke for hours. Back then, it felt like Pedro had all the time he could want, but now, we had to fit our meetings into the late night just to be able to see each other’s faces once in a while. Although his trips to Paris were sparse, he had rented out a small apartment for himself, whenever he came down from LA. It was not luxury, but it was comfortable, doused with lamps and artworks (my touch), and had enough room for a small gathering, but usually, it was empty, reserved for just the two of us. It was the embodiment of himself, a fragment of calm in a world of chaos. On his balcony, we both indulged in the stillness, watching as the other took a deep inhale of the cigarette. Moments like these, moments of tranquillity, felt so rare in our lives. Neither I nor Pedro spoke, instead listening to the Stan Getz jazz filtering from the record player in his room. The soft jazz emanated a warm touch, its rhythm soothing my body. I lulled into the feeling, eyes on Pedro. I watched how he leaned his back against the railing, head turned towards the sky, deep in thought.

Slightly buzzed by the cocktails from earlier, I nudged my shoulder against his arm, a small smile on my face.

“Hey, mon ami, what’s on your mind?” I questioned playfully, leaning closer to his body, resting my head on his arm. I felt him shift beside me, turning his head down, back to the present. He stayed silent, but I felt his body shake slightly as he let out a deep breath he had been holding. Sensing his worry, I turned to mirror his position on the railing, standing beside him. Looking at me, Pedro willed a small smile, but it didn’t meet his eyes.

“Can we go inside?” he asked, already moving to the door. I pressed the cigarette against the railing, killing its fiery glow, and dropped it into the darkness below. Following him inside, we made our way to his quaint lounge, where a bottle of wine and two glasses awaited us.

Two glasses in, and he still hasn’t said a word. I watched as he poured another glass, silence broken by the jazz music. I wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but I just didn’t know what to say. Our lives were so wildly different, mine as a struggling artist and his as a fucking celebrity. Running my hands down my trousers nervously, perched on the edge of the sofa by him, I watched as Pedro gulped down another glass, deep in thought, shutting me out in silence. Had I done something wrong? What is he thinking?

“Pedro, Im going crazy here. Did I do something? What’s going on?” I splurted out, unable to deal with the building tension. My break in silence snapped his focus to me, his eyes locking onto mine. I watched him take a shaky breath as he stood up, his hands opening and closing, fisting up. He stood over me in silence, his eyes searching my body, afraid. His nervousness sickened me. My mouth was dry, my words nonexistent.

“What's going on? I asked.

Silence. Again. Jesus Christ.

With a sigh, I stood up and began moving past Pedro, making my way to his kitchen to grab another drink. As my body passed him, I felt his hand on my arm. Firm, demanding. He pulled me back to him, spinning my body to face his. In the closeness, my eyes were pulled to his, deep and full of emotion. His hand on my arm had loosened, but remained, clinging to me. He held me softly, but full of intention and unspoken pleas. I stared, dumbfounded, as Pedro opened and closed his mouth, his words warping into exasperated breaths. He swallowed heavily, willing himself to regain composure.

“I come to Paris only for you, you know that?” he began, his words a soft whisper, barely audible over the Jazz.

“Pedro, that’s not true,” I started, “you come to Paris for work.”

“I stay in Paris for you, then.” Pedro’s voice was cracked, his usually smooth dialect broken.

“I can’t keep you out of my mind”, he continued, his hand moving to hold my own.

“I don’t think I can let you go, mi amor.”

I felt my hands go clammy, and I instinctively pulled away from his. In a flurry, he grabbed both my hands, gripping them even tighter in his own. My cheeks flushed, and I looked down, at our interlinked hands. My throat was suddenly hoarse too, and any words that I could have possibly said melted away at the sight of our interlocked fingers. His, roughened with age, and mine, smooth and soft. He was gripping me so tightly that his knuckles were white, and I watched as he ran his thumb up and down the side of my hand. It was soothing. I felt safe in Pedro’s presence, seen. Seen as I truly am, flaws and all. Talks with Pedro were a freefall of secrecy and confession, all of which he truly listened to. All of my worries seemed to fall to Pedro. He carried them for me, and wiped them away, even when I never asked him to. Tilting my head back up to Pedro, I saw the worry lines on his face deepen, and I watched as he chewed at the side of his mouth in anticipation. His eyes were frantic against his stoic face, darting from my eyes to my lips, searching for a reaction. I could not provide one. I was frozen, a still image staring up at him. All I could muster was a small, weak smile. My brain was in overdrive, and I could not fathom a single thought other than what exactly he meant. He wanted me, not just now, but he had wanted me, even as the mess I was. As the mess I am. Within the sea of Jazz, in our island that was his lounge, I watched him dip his head slightly, his lips moving to parallel mine. Our eyes danced between each other, unspoken words of confidence, fear, and acceptance. His face moved closer. So close that I could feel the ends of his moustache brush against the top of my lip. A small breath emanated from his lips and bounced across mine, pulling the tension into a crescendo. With a certainty, our lips met. It felt like a promise. It was not a deep kiss, but a romantic one. A kiss with meaning, with full-hearted intention. A soft touch, a confirmation of his words. He really did only stay in Paris for me. As we parted, I felt the pit in my stomach deepen, a longing for his touch.

“Could you stay the night?” Pedro asked, silenced by my lips crashing into his.

Within a second, our movements became desperate, lust-charged. His want overpowered mine, however, and he took the liberty of slipping his tongue into my mouth. I felt charged, overstimulated, dizzy with excitement. We made out with a fury, a crazed fire fueled by intention and desire. His movements were fluid, and I mirrored them with joy. His hands moved around my body with glee, roaming, searching. He cupped my waist and pulled me closer, revelling in our proximity. Pedro’s intentions were clear, and mine got clearer the more I felt his scruff scratch across my face. I needed him, as he needed me. I melted into his worship, his adoration of my curves underneath my grey sweater, his caressing of the arch of my back. My hands were on the sides of his face, pressing him into me with a need, running my fingers through his beard and hair. I was in a flow state, focus channelled directly into Pedro, ignorant of the rise and fall of the music, or the sounds of the city below us.

Pedro’s cold hand sliding down the back of my jeans and boxers to grip my asscheek threw me back to reality. I gasped into him, emanating a small chuckle from him which reverberated around his body, making him shake slightly. His hand wandered with determination, dominating my own body with his rough touch. His hand grazing my bare hole made me moan with an intensity even I was unaware of, and that fueled his roam further. He was handsy, pushing against my hole, teasing me, playing into my sensitivity. He wanted me addicted to him, to his touch, to his very presence. His fingers felt like hot wax dripping across my cold, bare skin. Pedro’s touch was charged with heat, burning into my body, moulding me as if I were a piece of clay. His hands kneaded into me as a baker would do, caressing my body, taking what was his. What he had wanted for so long. As we made out, I felt him step in my direction, urging us to move to his bedroom in unison. Our bodies stayed merged, him leading me to his room whilst I tentatively moved backwards in the correct direction. Entering his room, I heard the door slam behind Pedro, ensheathing us in darkness, muting the sounds of the city.

All of a sudden, he pushed me down onto the bed, pulling our bodies apart, leaving me staring blindly in the darkness. After hearing him scuffle in the darkness, the room was flooded with the warm light of his bedside lamp. I had never seen the inside of his room before, but it wasn’t much to behold. It was bare, much like most of the apartment, but it felt truly lived in. His closet was full, with a few clothes lying on the floor, including a white jockstrap that made my cock stir. Under all the layers, Pedro was truly a slut.

Pedro’s hand under my chin pulled me to face him, his head low, turned to face me.

“Take off your shirt,” he commanded, and I obediently followed, my bare skin now exposed to his room. In the warm glow, I felt a bit awkward, but the sound of Pedro’s gasp melted away my self-awareness. He really wanted me. His hand trailed down my stomach, pinching at my nipples, and quickly grabbing at my growing bulge. I couldn’t help but moan. I was so desperate for his touch.

Standing over me, Pedro’s body was a silhouette against the light from the lamp, but I watched as his shadow figure began to undo his belt, the smooth metal clinks electrifying my body. My synapses were on overdrive, my vision straining to make out anything at all. I watched his trousers fall, and the boxer briefs that followed, then his shirt, leaving his shadow fully nude. I watched, entranced, as Pedro slowly stepped further from the bed, to beside his lamp, drenching his body in light.

His chest was dotted with hair, greying with age, but thick and warming. His stomach followed a similar pattern, providing a welcome mat towards his treasure trail. I followed it down lustily, watching in delight at the increase of fur that lined his body. Finally setting my eyes on his cock, I let out a small, but audible gasp, prompting a small huff of amusement from Pedro. His uncircumcised head throbbed with need, a deep red colour that matched the red briefs he had been wearing. His member was girthy, veins popping out the sides like the weight of his cock physically strained him. From his head, a glob of precum had formed, glistening in the light. His cock was wreathed with a nice mass of hair that stretched down to his balls, thick and full of seed. Pedro’s tanned body was a temple, and I wanted to worship him so badly. I needed to. And I think he knew that. By the look on my face, it was fairly obvious what I wanted: him.

As he slowly moved closer, my body began to buzz with a cold excitement. I could not speak, only stare, as he towered over me, overpowering me with his presence. Staring up into his breathtaking eyes, I felt him run his cock over my face, marking me with his scent. Moving his balls over my face, I indulged in his musk, sweaty but sweet, like ground cinnamon and espresso. I was intoxicated, in pure bliss, the weight of his member resting totally on me. He teased me, moving his cock across my face, edging it closer and closer to my mouth. It brushed against my lips, granting me a taste of his bare skin. Licking my lips, I could taste the precum that had dropped down his cock head. Tentatively, I moved my head closer, placing a small kiss on his member, evoking a low growl from Pedro. I opened my mouth slightly, and I felt his cock excitedly push against my lips, pressing into my mouth. Opening wider, he inserted himself deeper, pushing himself into me. When as much of his manhood could fit, I began bobbing my head back and forth, pushing the side of my cheeks against his girth, gifting him new textures. As I sucked, I ran my tongue on the underside of his cock in circles and spirals, evoking a low stream of moans from his body. Due to his size, I began jerking him in unison with my movements, savouring each back and forward of my body. Feeling his hands in my hair was euphoric, his heavy but comforting presence grounding me, conforming this. Confirming us. As I worked on his cock, I watched as he crumbled over me, incoherent whispers of swear words and moans of pleasure. His stomach shuddered every time his cock head was pulled to the back of my throat, his precum lining the inside of my mouth with a sweet taste. I took my time, working persistently and passionately on his cock, stretching out his pleasure, melting him into a lust-driven animal. Then, all of a sudden, Pedro’s hands moved to the back of my head, a firm lock on my movements. He then began sliding his dick in and out of my mouth, asking a small “Is this okay?”, to which I let out a lustful moan in response. Secure with his movements, he began face-fucking me with speed, pushing himself deeper. I tried my hardest to keep my mouth tight for him, but the slobber drooling from the sides of my mouth transformed it into his personal fucktoy. He moved with vigour, pleasuring himself with my mouth. His moans were more frantic, more desperate as he pushed himself closer to the edge. They were stifled, too quickly replaced by a new set of noises that hindered proper enunciation of the pleasure he was experiencing. It was succession after succession of “hahs” and huffs of lust, breathless, intoxicated. His thrusts picked up speed, his movement erratic, his body tense. Then, dramatically, he pulled his entire body away, stepping away from the bed. His cock bobbed, shaking with his denied orgasm, its head dripping with my saliva. Pedro’s entire body heaved, his chest rising and falling heavily. He looked at me blankly, stunned. After a few more deep breaths, he moved closer, grabbing my face and pulling it into his. As we kissed, his hands searched my body, pulling at my belt buckle frantically. He pulled my trousers and boxers away from me, leaving me completely naked. The sight of my eager cock prompted a small chuckle from Pedro, lightly bobbing the tip with his finger, emanating a small moan from my body.

“Lean back for me, baby.”

As per his request, I leaned back, my eyes not parting his, I watched as he lifted my legs, exposing my hole. A small moan of approval whispered from his mouth as he saw my pink, pulsating hole, desperate for him. Lowering his face, I watched as he ran his tongue down my cock, past my balls, but I could only feel as his tongue grazed my hole. He began making out with my hole with passion, eager to please me as I did him. He kissed so tenderly, but the small thrust of his tongue into my hole melted my entire body. I was in pure bliss, his tongue slipping in and out of my tight hole, opening me up slowly. He moaned as he worked into me, enamoured by the sight of me, cock directly upright, and the perpetual image of pleasure pasted across my face. Pedro’s eyes glowed with a fury, his dark irises glowing in the light. His shoulders rippled as his hands pushed my legs wider, squeezing with a grounding confidence.

My body felt like butter, melted under his hand, worked into a mould. I whimpered from his movement, near an orgasm.

“Pedro, I don’t wanna come yet,” I pleaded, desperate. “I need you in me.”

“Are you sure?” Pedro asked, his voice a silk wrapped around my body. With a small nod, I adjusted my body into a more comfortable position, sticking out my hole to him. Reaching over me, he grabbed a bottle of lube off his nightstand, applying it over his cock, and over my hole, its cold nature sending a thick shiver across me. His cock glistened in the light, a shining rod, his veins popping out the sides, his head now a deep purple. I watched him hunch over his dick, aligning with my hole. Slowly, Pedro pushed the head in, but remained there, accustoming my hole to his girth. He was big, but he slipped in easily, my hole moulding perfectly to his member. With a small nod, I urged him to move deeper, and he thrust slowly, purposefully. With his member inching slowly inside me, my body let out a guttural moan, and I bathed in the feeling of his cock throbbing in response. I felt him move inside me, pushing and pulling out achingly slowly. I needed him in me, hard.

“Pedro, please,” I whispered, my lip quivering in the tension. My cock was painfully hard, and any small jolt from his body sent electricity through my fingertips, up my neck.

Sensing my desperation, he swiftly began pushing faster, deeper. Each thrust was breathtaking, my curves jolting from his hard pushes. His hands gripped the insides of my thighs, pushing them away from him, making his thrusts easier, better. My mouth was agape, his thighs slapping into mine with a satisfying clap. Pedro moaned with a hunger, an overwhelming animalistic quality that was sheathed prior. He began thrusting with valour, his energy devoted to the back and forth. My insides were on fire, my prostate in heaven with each rub against it. It twitched my cock every time, sending another pool of precum to drip onto my stomach. My back was arched, my hole gripping to his length desperately, pulling him deeper with each thrust. I was aflame, his penetration an overstimulating bliss that entranced me, drowning me in Pedro’s movements. I was deluded, giddy with lust, addicted to his touch. He fucked me harshly, his hands slipping up my thighs from his sweat. He pushed incessantly, growling as he did so. His eyes were dark, his face shrouded from the light, his defined silhouette rippling as he pushed all his force into my hole. I was so insanely close, his cock attacking my prostate so perfectly.

All of a sudden, he pulled out completely, his cock bouncing as he regained his composure.

“Turn over,” he ordered, his eyes hungry watching me turn over, my ass up. Leaning onto my body and immediately inserting his cock, I felt his arm wrap around my neck, placing me in a headlock. He pushed my head up, his body over mine, and began thrusting with an insatiable force. He ravaged into me, tightening his grip on my neck, his biceps pushing into the sides, tightening my airways. His cock was an endless onslaught, ripping into me, dominating me with his force. His chokehold on me was solid, restricting my oxygen, my head tightening, my energy falling before him. I was in bliss, my head light, his thrusts the only thing I felt. Pedro breathed heavily into my ear, filling my hearing with nonsensical curses and moans. Abruptly, his head moved, his mouth pressing into the back of my neck. He kissed me with passion, digging into my skin with a tight seal. His beard scratched my skin, my receptors on overdrive, unable to handle its overwhelming sensation. He sucked into my neck as if I were a vampire, and I was his bride. Pedro marked my skin with forming hickeys, branding me as his own, tagging me as his. I felt high, moaning uncontrollably as he wrecked me. My cock rubbed into his bedsheets, jolted by his heavy movements and his attack on my prostate. I was so close. I tensed my cock, desperately trying to hold back my emerging orgasm, but I could only push it back so much. Pedro’s cock was relentless, unstopping, forceful.

“Fuck- Pedro, I’m so close-”

“Come for me,” he whispered into my ear, his moustache ticking the side of my face. His soft but hoarse voice was too much, pushing me into an orgasm. My body was grappled into the threshold between consciousness, his tight grip on my neck propelling me further from reality. My cock spasmed as I came, my seed coating his sheets and my stomach. Pedro’s thrusts didn’t cease. Instead, the pressure of my muscles around his cock as I came only pushed him further, chasing his own orgasm. He was determined, totally focused on pleasuring himself. I was blind, my vision blurred into chaos. My head throbbed, pulsating in sync with my cock. I dumped seed uncontrollably, my prostate overworked, overpowered. He fucked my hole even faster, nearing his peak. Suddenly, he pushed his entire weight onto my body, entrapping me, plugging my hole. He dumped into me, dispersing load after load, filling the crevices of my ass. It dripped down the bottom of his cock, falling onto my balls. He quickly pulled out, my body empty without his member inside. He pushed his face into my ass, his tongue sapping up his seed. Pedro then pulled my body onto my back, facing him, and thrust his lips onto mine. His seed filled my mouth, and we made out with greed, sapping up his sperm. Its salty taste coated his tongue and my mouth, and I moaned into him, my energy slowly depleting. Falling onto the bed, lying next to me, I felt his chest rise and fall. Pedro put his hand onto mine, spooning me into him. I felt him slip his cock back into me, my hole now his dock. Feeling full and content, I allowed my body to succumb to my tired state, slipping into the dark embrace of sleep. His heat lulled me from reality, and I comforted in his presence.

I awoke to the feeling of his member growing inside me, unmoving but undeniable. My eyes heavy, I turned my head slightly to see Pedro looking down at me, propped up on his elbow.

“Is this okay?” he asked, concerned about my libido. I nodded quickly, my horny state replacing my lack of energy. With my confirmation, I felt Pedro’s hands on my ass, slapping my cheeks with a sharp crack. He pushed my ass out with force, thrusting his cock into me harshly. My moans were high-pitched, whiny, needy. Pedro was relentless, damaging, overstimulating my already overstimulated body. Whilst he ripped into me, his hand moved across my side, wrapping around my cock. He jerked me quickly, kneading my cock, pressing into my girth. It was painful, but it hurt so good. I was a wild bitch, my dignity gone, my vocals hoarse as I moaned uncontrollably. Pedro, on the other hand, was relatively silent par for a few small huffs, completely engrossed in his thrusts. He was close, I could tell, by the way his jerking of my cock had become more erratic, harder and faster. I was insanely close, grappling between another orgasm and the onslaught against my hole. All of a sudden, I felt his entire body tense, and a thick stream of curse words suddenly emanated from his mouth around the room. His seed plastering across my insides threw my body over the edge and I dumped my load all over his hand, painting him with my come. My entire body shivered as he continued to thrust, soon pushing his cock even deeper, planting another load into me. I was transported from the room, floating as he impregnated my body. As Pedro came for a second time, he pulled my body into him, his stomach against my back. His hairy figure and his beard tickled my body, scratching my skin, his tight pull digging them into me. His beard nuzzled against my shoulders, resting his head there. Finally pulling out, I heard Pedro drift into sleep, his come dripping from my hole like hot wax burning down my bare skin. It coated my hole as it fell away, pooling on his bedsheet. In his warmth, I didn’t need them. His tight grip on my body was the perfect blanket, his wide stature wrapping me with his presence. To his sweet and Christmas-like scent, I found my body falling back into the familiar pattern of sleep, my breaths in sync with Pedro’s.

》》》》》◆《《《《《

I awoke to the sound of a drunken man screaming in French. He cussed incessantly, but suddenly fell silent. Odd. Opening my eyes, I noticed the faint early morning light peep through the gap between the door and the floor.

“I need a fucking cigarette.” I thought, moving through the apartment, grabbing the nearest sweater as I grabbed my pack, stepping out onto the balcony. With a lit cigarette in my mouth, I took deep tokes as I watched the cityscape around me emerge from the shrouds of the night. I revelled in the cool air brushing against my face, feeling how the cigarette smoke wrapped around my body. The world felt calm, still. I always forget how much I love the early hours of the day, how distant time feels, how expectations just seem to fall away.

Pedro’s hands wrapping around my waist crushed into my deluded perception of reality.

“You look good in my sweater,” he said, chucking into my neck. Looking down, I noticed I was, in fact, wearing his sweater. I also noticed that I wasn’t wearing anything but his sweater. Feeling my face flush, I quickly ashed my cigarette and practically flung myself back into his apartment. I threw myself onto his sofa, embarrassment burning onto my face. Looking up at Pedro, I noticed that he was completely nude except for the bedsheet that he had dragged with him. His bare chest and broad shoulders were lush, and his hair was messy, his curls tangled, sticking up in random ways. He looked humorous, a hunk of a man with the hair of a crazed person. I smiled up at him, more in my own thoughts than the present.

“Let’s go back to bed.” He said, his hand extending outwards towards me.

“Don’t you leave today?” I replied, time finally catching up against the stillness of the morning. This can’t be over already. I felt sick, my stomach twisting into a knot, the thought of not seeing Pedro for months unbearable.

“Not anymore,” He replied, reaching and pulling me into him.

“Not when I’ve finally got you.”

I couldn’t help but smile. What a fucking romantic. Thank God.

“Let's go back to bed,” I whispered, my hands on his chest as he wrapped his arms around me.

“Okay.”

》》》》》◆《《《《《

#charlikes ! ₍^. .^₎Ⳋ #pedro pascal #this was so perfect omg the descriptions 😵‍💫

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desiresin · 2 days ago

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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 your 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

#charlikes ! ₍^. .^₎Ⳋ

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desiresin · 5 days ago

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supernova

Johnny Storm x male reader smut

3k words

Trying on new merch brings out Johnny's possessive side.

Warning for bottom male reader, possessive behavior, and a special appearance from Johnny's tight white t-shirt that he wore in the movie. No spoilers for the new Fantastic Four movie.

“Babe? Babe!” You hear Johnny yell from your balcony.

In a panic, you ran into the room, already expecting the worst from his tone. After flinging open your bedroom door, you find Johnny floating above your balcony holding a box.

“What’s wrong?” You huff, heart pounding in your chest.

Johnny hovers the short distance inside, a bright smile on his face, “I brought you something,” he says excitedly.

“You couldn’t have knocked and brought it through the front door?” You ask, your hand over your racing heart.

“I was too excited to show you,” Johnny replies, his smile falling off his face as a pout sets in.

“Fine,” you reply, walking over to Johnny. Even if he did just scare you, you couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss him, “show me,” you said, a rush of affection running through your body when Johnny smiles from the kiss.

“We got new merchandise, baby!” Johnny says, rubbing his hands together.

Rolling your eyes, you watch as Johnny nearly tears the box in two to get its contents out. “How’d you get over here without burning the box?”

“I’ve been practicing,” Johnny answers, sending you a wink before he carefully begins to lay the items out on your bed.

“Are these all yours?” You ask, watching as the pile only gets bigger.

“What do you mean are these all mine?” Johnny asks, brows drawn together in confusion, “of course they’re mine,” he says like you just asked the dumbest question in the world.

“What if I wanted a,” you grab one of the objects, “Reed Richards mug?” You ask before setting it down a second later, “or a Ben Grimm action figure?” You ask, picking up the figure of Johnny.

“Oh really?” Johnny asks, “you want me to go grab you a box or two?” He asks, pointing a thumb behind his back in the direction of your balcony.

“I’m kidding!” You reply, grabbing Johnny’s arm when he begins to walk away, “I’m kidding,” you repeat, giving him another kiss.

Johnny pulls back from the kiss smiling, but it soon falls when he grabs the figure you’re holding, “they never get my hair right,” he sighs.

You reach up to smooth over the frown lines, “I think it looks handsome,” you say, grabbing the action figure and placing it on your shelf with the many other iterations Johnny has brought you in the past.

Walking back over to Johnny, you can’t help but notice how tight of a t-shirt he’s wearing, looking as if his toned chest wasn’t threatening to break free on every movement.

“What else did you bring me?” You ask, your eyes jerking away when Johnny looks up. You look away nervously, like Johnny wasn’t your boyfriend who loves when you look at him, making you feel silly.

“There’s a shirt like this one,” Johnny says, gesturing down to the one he has on, “which I think they got the sizing wrong.”

Whoever they are, you made a mental note to send them a thank you letter later. “I can tell,” you murmur, raising a hand to let your fingers brush across a nipple through his shirt, “is it cold in here?”

“Stop distracting me,” Johnny gripes, turning away as he continues to dig through the box.

Not wanting to let up, you let your hand fall and instead lean forward to press a kiss to Johnny’s cheek. He continues to rifle through the box as your lips travel lower. You have to bite back a smile when you hear Johnny’s movements pause when your lips brush against Johnny’s neck.

“I’m really excited to show you this,” Johnny groans, shifting closer, “and you won’t let me,” he complains breathlessly.

“Fine,” you grumble, pulling away, Johnny looping an arm around your waist when he decides you’re moving too far away.

“Finally!” Johnny says, pulling out a blue and white shirt. He turns it eagerly towards you, the shirt looking a lot like one of the suits you’ve seen him in.

“It looks like one of your suits,” you observe.

“That’s not the best part,” Johnny replies, flipping the shirt over, “I had to get it specially made. One of a kind,” he says, looking over the shirt.

It confuses you at first, but when you see the writing near the collar, you catch on. “Oh,” you say, a feeling of warmth settling deep within your gut. Storm the shirt says, right near the collar, like a jersey.

“Too much?” Johnny asks, pulling the shirt towards his chest.

“I-” you begin, going to grab the shirt, “I like it,” you whisper, running your fingers across his name on the back.

“Yeah?” Johnny whispers back. His hands fall to hang by his sides, his hands twitching like he’s aching to reach out and touch you. It isn’t like he can’t, but instead, he stands there confused as you pull your shirt off.

Once the other shirt is on, it’s your turn to question Johnny, “how does it look?”

“Good,” Johnny breathes, looking you over slowly.

“Just good?”

“Great,” Johnny corrects.

You shuck off your pants, biting back your smile when Johnny’s eyes widen momentarily a second later, “what about now?”

“Fuck,” Johnny breathes, closing the distance between your bodies by yanking you into his chest. The kiss steals your breath away, making you gasp, and Johnny, in turn, pushes his tongue into your mouth.

Johnny’s hands wrap tightly around your waist, giving you no chance to move as Johnny swallows the moan you let out at the feeling of his tongue meeting yours. His tongue is hot and wet in your mouth, mapping out a space he’s long grown familiar with.

The next article of clothing that comes off is by Johnny, his hands making their way into your underwear. He kneads the globes of your ass cheeks, using his hold to bring your hips together.

The kiss breaks, but not the space between your bodies, Johnny’s forehead coming to rest against yours. Johnny pushes your underwear down in a slow movement, falling onto his knees as the clothing comes down.

Johnny presses a kiss to each thigh as he gets your underwear off your ankles, tossing it away to an empty corner of the room. He looks up when you bury a hand in his blond hair, keeping eye contact as he runs his tongue along your cock from root to tip.

You’re the one to break eye contact, your head falling back when Johnny takes you into his hot mouth. You let Johnny make his own pace as he slowly takes you deeper, your cock grows harder along his tongue.

Your hand tightens in his hair when the head of your cock hits the back of his throat, Johnny gagging and his throat clenching around your cock. You moan at the feeling, even as your hand pushes Johnny off your cock.

You pull Johnny up onto his feet with a yank of his hair, Johnny moving obediently as you pull him into a kiss. You let out a soft noise into Johnny’s mouth at the hint of salt you can taste on his tongue.

Johnny pulls away from the kiss first so he can turn around. Thinking he’s about to take his clothes off, it startles you when Johnny swipes his arm along the bed, flinging everything off the bed and onto the floor.

“Hey! Don’t wreck my stuff!” You scold.

Johnny fixes you with a mischievous smile as he pulls off his clothes. Thinking he needs help, especially with how tight his shirt looks, you run your hands up his chest. As you work, so does Johnny, his hands already on his belt as he smirks.

“Someone’s eager,” Johnny notes, his arms going up momentarily as you pull his shirt off.

“Hurry up,” you respond, giggling as your lips come together.

Your hands move to Johnny’s shoulders as he gets his pants and underwear, your arms looping around his neck when Johnny surges back up into a kiss.

“Don’t you dare,” Johnny says possessively against your mouth when you try to take the shirt off. He licks into your mouth during the next kiss, his hands sneaking below the hem of the shirt to wrap around your hips. “Bed. Now.” Johnny commands after he pulls away.

But funnily enough, when you try to move, Johnny’s hands tighten around your hips, holding you in place. You stumble a few steps to the bed, Johnny making his way between your legs.

The next few kisses grow sloppy when Johnny brings your hips together over and over again. By the time Johnny rises up onto his forearms, his cock stands proud between his legs, while yours has left a wet spot on the shirt.

You let out a whine when Johnny leaves the bed, his lips coming back down onto yours softly to kiss you in apology, “be right back, baby,” he murmurs.

It almost made you feel proud to watch Johnny go exactly where he needs to go to grab the lube, the man returning to the bed with a look of satisfaction.

One of the best things about dating a flaming superhero meant no more cold lube. What once used to make you jump at the feeling, now left you sighing happily into Johnny’s kiss as he presses a slick finger into your hole.

“Let’s get you comfortable,” Johnny says after the kiss, his finger not even halfway inside before he’s pulling it out.

He pushes you up the bed with his clean hand into the pillows at the top of the bed. Johnny grabs one of the pillows beside you to get it underneath your hips before he leans back down into yet another kiss, “comfy?” He asks after pulling away.

You nod, trying to speak, but any words you try and let out make way for a gasp when Johnny’s finger makes its way back inside. “More,” you groan, clenching down on the single digit inside you.

Johnny lets out a laugh, “I just started,” he says, moving his finger in and out.

“Please,” you whine, trying to fuck yourself down onto his finger. Your whines only grow when Johnny’s finger brushes your prostate, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

“Can never say no to you,” Johnny replies in a low voice as you feel another finger trace along your hole.

Your head falls back into the pillows as two fingers make their way inside. You barely have time to keep up as Johnny chases your mouth, moaning against his tongue as Johnny’s rubs against yours.

Johnny takes your bottom lip with him when he pulls back, the skin caught between Johnny’s teeth. The slight burn of it matches the burn in your body from Johnny’s fingers as he opens you up. You push through the burn, meeting Johnny’s fingers in the middle to get them back inside.

After two fingers have become three, you’re sweaty and practically thrashing on the bed. The heat of the single shirt left on your body nearly feels unbearable, but it doesn’t compare to how Johnny’s fingers feel inside, and how hot his lips feel on your neck.

“Johnny! Please!” You cry, eyes moving from Johnny’s hard cock between his legs to his face when he pulls away from your neck. You couldn’t imagine how he must feel, his cock red and angry.

Johnny licks his lips, seemingly satisfied by the mark you assume he’s left. If the dull pain radiating from your neck is anything to go by. “Okay,” he nods, pulling his fingers free slowly.

You gasp around the emptiness, your hole clenching around nothing now that the intrusion of Johnny’s fingers is gone. You watch Johnny’s eyes as he watches the pathetic movement of your hole, “fuck,” he breathes.

Your heart pounds in your chest, anticipation filling every fiber of your being when the wet press of the head of Johnny’s cock meets your hole. He practically bends you half to press his forehead to yours as you breath in each other’s air.

Your hand tangles into the hair on Johnny’s nape to pull him into a soft kiss, much softer than what the current situation calls for. One of your legs rests on Johnny’s shoulder, the other hangs on Johnny’s lower back, threatening to fall from the sweat on your skin.

“Ready?” Johnny asks quietly.

You give Johnny a nod, your leg momentarily tightening to push him forward. You both gasp when Johnny finally pushes in, his cock like a hot brand going deeper each second.

“So tight,” Johnny groans, a bead of sweat dripping down his nose, “always so tight,” he whines as he slowly bottoms out.

You force yourself to breathe when Johnny’s balls rest on your ass, his cock leaving you feeling full. You release the hold on Johnny’s hair to move your hand down Johnny’s chest, right over his racing heart.

“Breathe, baby,” you tell Johnny, smiling as his eyes come back into focus and meet yours.

Johnny falls on top of you with a soft laugh, his face resting in the crook of your neck. The movement jostles his cock inside you, stars bursting behind your eyes when it brushes your prostate.

“Sorry,” Johnny slurs into your neck as he circles his hips.

You clench down on Johnny’s cock in retaliation, smiling up at the ceiling when Johnny groans.

“Now you’re just teasing me,” he growls, biting into the skin below his lips. Likely left with another mark, Johnny pulls away from your neck as he brings himself up onto his forearms.

You let your other leg fall to wrap around Johnny’s hips to let him pull free, but not too far away. And with nowhere to go, Johnny can only drive his cock back inside.

The moan you let out, Johnny answers. His cock makes quick work of finding your prostate on each thrust, no doubt aided by the moans you let out in response.

Johnny ducks down for a kiss, if you can even call it that, messy and a mix of tongue and teeth. He pulls away with a moan, his hips moving faster as he fucks you into the sheets. The bed creaks to the rhythm of his thrusts, nearly drowning out the noise of your combined moans.

Hands move below your shirt, Johnny’s hands pressing your body into the bed as his hips smack against yours. He falters for just a second to roll his hips slowly, his cock pressed right against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“You look so good in my clothes,” Johnny breathes, leaving your shirt bunched on your collarbone. He leans down for a kiss as his fingers tweak your nipples, your back arching off the bed. His fingers pull away once your nipples are as hard as your cock, lying neglected against your stomach.

Johnny leans down to lick one nipple, soothing the sore skin with his warm, wet tongue. He moves to the other once it relaxes back down underneath his tongue, his cock throbbing deep inside you as he works.

You pull Johnny off with a tug to the back of his head, pulling the man up into a kiss. You whimper into his mouth at the feel of Johnny's hot spit cooling over your nipples, Johnny pulling the shirt down to cover your upper body back up.

He breaks the kiss and leans up onto his knees, bringing one of your legs with him to hook it over his shoulder. The other lies spread to the side, your foot hanging off the bed. He presses a kiss to your ankle before he begins thrusting once more.

As Johnny picks up the pace, his other hand wraps around your cock to move in time to his thrusts. Your orgasm builds, growing closer and closer on each slick pull of Johnny’s hand.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whine in warning, and moments later, your orgasm washes over you. Your back arches off the bed, your hands digging into the sheets like you’re fearful you’re about to float off the bed. Uncontrollable moans leave your lips as Johnny goes even faster, thrusting through the clench of your hole as it flutters around his cock.

Johnny fucks you through your orgasm and down into your aftershocks, Johnny holding your fucked out body in place as he takes what he wants. He pulls out with a loud groan and makes his way up your body, his knees coming to rest on either side of your neck.

Too much in a post-orgasm haze, your brain isn’t able to count how many pulls it takes for Johnny to cum. What it instead focuses on is the noise Johnny makes when he cums, and the feel of it splashing on your face.

You close your eyes and let the sounds of Johnny’s moan fill your ears, his burning hot cum staining your face in thick ropes. When it gets to the point that it feels as if it’s never going to end, you feel the bed dip on either side of your head as Johnny twitches through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

“Mine,” you hear Johnny whisper as he moves down your body. You feel the puff of his breath on your face as his weight settles over your body. He kisses you wetly, the salty taste of his spend on Johnny’s tongue.

You lick your lips when Johnny pulls away, wanting to taste even more of the mess he made on your face. You swallow the familiar taste down, Johnny’s cum still warm as it makes its way down your throat.

You feel the soft feel of a cloth wiping your face, “you’re not,” you start, a smile spreading over your lips when the cloth swipes over your lips, “using one of my new shirts to clean my face are you?”

“No,” Johnny responds quickly.

“Johnny!” you whine.

“I’m not!” Johnny responds, throwing what he was using away when you open your eyes. He flops down on top of you when you try to sit up and see which one he used. Johnny presses a kiss to your cheek, “don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to,” Johnny says, hiding his smile into your neck.

You grumble out a response, but still can’t help but wrap your arms around Johnny, the man happily nuzzling his face into your neck in response.

#charlikes ! ₍^. .^₎Ⳋ

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