#Final Fantasy Too Many Belts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shlutnutt · 5 months

Text

In honor of this account’s birthday again (???) here’s a threesome fic lol

—————————————————————————————————————————

Pervy Desires

sum : past hookup; Eddie Munson, didn’t want to let you cum, so someone had to!

steve x eddie x reader threesome smut

w: bartender reader x steve/eddie customers, unprotected sex, spanking, lots of pp print, evbdy is a perv, tipsy intercourse, 2pp bj, name calling(soft & rough), soft dom steve x rough dom eddie x sub reader, humping, deep kissing, oral (mm receiving + f receiving), chatter box Eddie x quieter Steve, choking, orgasm denial, reader having a thing for hands? breast suckiling, cum dumping

The tatted one was a frequent, usually hanging with friends or simply strolling alone for a couple beers and drunken chats. Although not often upfront when it came to it, Eddie purely came in for you. So evident he knew you remembered those pretty hands of his from somewhere; always teasingly looping digits around his cups and bottles, rings clinking within every occasional sip of alcohol he’d savor. Fuck was he a sight to see.

He has flirted with you countless of times before, words you memorized strategically involved unsober confessions as to how he’d love to share you with his best friend. He was too wasted to filter himself so Munson went into explicit description as to how he would fuck you first, would then let his friend get a go, and how finally, they’d both dump their warmths into your mouth. Soft lips of his spurring drunken words that easily had you reminiscing each and every second you sighted, ravaged and soaked him in, system jolting to his presence.

You weren’t much of an angel either though, those hands and tatted arms were the principal of your returning shameful fantasies; the thought of how fitting his fingers would look decorating the hem of your neck right at that instant had you needy to pursue, how pretty would his darkened hair look coated in his earned sweat, he had you craving every ounce of him and he knew so too.

Many more pervy thoughts barged along when you looked to the left of him; there was Eddie’s friend, who you overheard named after Steve. His eyes looked so dangerously warm it made you quirm, already stiff as a board in those pretty worn jeans, perfectly hugging his long cock tight. You only imagined how he’d link his length inside you, wondering just how smooth he’d dance his hips along your own, to have the perfect feel of him fucking you just right. You weren’t sure what it was about him that had you feeling this way but fuck was he just the perfect add-on.

Heavy arms now raised high above his head in stretch, you noticed his shirt looked stylishly torn, crop going undetectable until now. His belly was toned well, pretty lines sculpting the track towards his bulge, you couldn’t contain but to catch a glimpse of the dark trail you hoped you’d see again tonight before he returned to his original stance. He stood now, shifting his hands onto his belt buckle, subconsciously toying around with the material he wore. You knew you’ve had enough, you needed one of them, you needed both.

“Sorry, I’ll get to you guys in a second-

-Hello, Munson boy.”

you bounced back and fourth between customers and acknowledged Eddie, breaking that loud hitch of silence between you two after your last sensual encounter, tone so flirty on the name you almost entirely threw yourself at him. Having you speak to him in that way he so actively remembered from your guys’ adventures immediately had him hooked soulessly. You caught the man drawing a hint of a smirk onto his face, eyes had become darker remembering easily just how to push you past your limit.

“hello, pretty..” he saluted back, hand playfully waving at you, eyes becoming prominent to the attention given.

“Bit crowded tonight, no?” you telepathically spoke to him.

“we’ll be here some time, no rush.” he continued. Eddie quickly found a way into replying to your perverted wishes, making sure you knew he’s in no plan of leaving until the bar emptied just the right amount for him to make you his. Voice grew dark along with his need for you, massive hands reaching into his pocket in search for his used up wallet. Already, eye-counting the number of people left in the way.

“Hello to you too, new guy.” you spoke to his friend now, kindly appreciating them both, making sure he wasn’t left out in the slightest. The nickname brought out a deep chuckle, almost offended that you didn’t just ask him his name.

“Ahh, new guy?” he tempted along with you, trapping your glance right along his,

“Just Steve, bartender lady.” he added amusingly, returning the quirky comedic relief. He made sure you pictured well how massive he looked as he hovered over you carefully, lips so eager to do more, Eddie admiring the play.

Although tempted, you sassily brushed the men off and found your way towards a customer seated towards the far end of the counter.

Steve felt content with the ghost of your presence you having him left with the image of you playfully rolling your dolly eyes at him. He loved the way you toyed around, fully adored how bratty you started with him, he quickly pictured the many ways he can get you to behave for him.

Steve and Eddie both stood and preyed on you while you picked up the leaving customer’s excessive tip, with that, a moist towel to wipe the counter down. You strolled around your area in search for a cleaning product, firm ass hidden away in the airy skirt you wore along with a white button down blouse as uniform, hair kept free.

The men blended in with the crowd and made their ways close to you once more, in hopes of occupying the best seats in the bar with little to no difficulty.

You further cleaned the surface down, spraying liquids onto the counter, the men going unnoticed. You were now almost dancing to the music played, slightly shaking your hips to the beat, gliding your hands left and right across the spot, pretty cleavage decorating your chest.

You caught Steve’s cocky grin along with Eddie’s steady glare, your eyes automatically stuck wandering off lower as they took advantage of the low angle you cleaned in, having their cocks appear far more prominent than necessary. The men both were larger and printed, almost as if they intentionally wore the tightest pants they had in their closets for you.

Tonight, you were sure those two together would cause some trouble, they had you feeling ways in which you couldn’t explain, like they reached into your head and twisted it in ways to fulfill their utmost desires. You were drenched and they haven’t even been in for ten minutes, how they technically flashed their cocks on your face had you sick of hiding it any longer.

“open for two?” voiced Munson, referring to the area you just wiped down, two bar-stools open and available right ahead of your busiest station. His eyes were piercing, attractive, they spoke to you more than his lips did. You accepted, shooting a smile before wiping your hands dry onto your tight blouse, ready for their requests. The men sat, warm toned lamps above each of their heads beautifully lighting them to frame.

“What can I serve you guys with?” you were quick to keep it all professional, avoiding the intense eye contact with the man that could undress you bare now.

“two beers, pretty.” He reached his hand up to view, having you with no choice but to acknowledge him again, single-handedly placing a large bill between his digits and passing it like he was intentionally modeling his ring-filled fingers for you. Taking the bill from his wider hand you noticed a knowing grin on his face to the look you shot him, same knowing look he used to shoot you when he used to tease the shit out of you back to when you two used to shared classes together.

It’d be easy to say that those casual little hookups you had with Eddie all over school grounds back in the day had you recognize him immediately, since the very first day he even stepped into your bar. Pure memories of those times Munson would choke you down onto those firm sleeping trees, bark so pale it’d be easy rip, anomalistically pounding into your cunt like his life depended on it, breathy grunts which’d have you begging him for more. Holding a leg up with an arm, as he’d push the rest of your weight up with his own, Eddie would have you coming repeatedly for him like it was all a game. And god did he love it.

It all came back though; that tightening sensation in the pit of your stomach as you watched him attentively speak with the one handsome companion lying beside him, lips smoothly sharing words you could easily picture as dirty.

You returned to them, lowering the freshly stocked beer bucket infront the men, both attentively observing how you removed each drink from the ice storage they cooled in, noticing how hypnotically their eyes toyed with your breasts.

The bar remained of only a couple of regulars who remained out of view in that large bar you worked at, them usually finding their ways out the door before the clock hit midnight.

“wanna show us around, princess?” interrupted Eddie, lips curving upwards to the flinch you gave when you felt his firm grip find a way towards your lower waist across the booth, so sneakingly holding your body as his. You knew exactly what he meant, of course you followed along,

“Only if I can get both.”

You leaned in and kissed him, warm lips tangling harshly with your own. Eddie groaned to the gesture, rapidly dragging your body across the counter to get it to wrap around his.

You whimpered for him, hands pulling onto the dark tank he wore. He listened and sat you onto the counter, backed away a second to remove the fabric, toned body creeping up to light, messy curls frantically going back to form onto the front of his face. You wanted him and you showed him well, but he quickly showed you he wanted you more.

—

Eddie savagely tore that work skirt you wore, holding the fabric between thick-fingers tearing up to down, this exposing the pretty panties worn beneath them. He carried your weight downstairs to where the break room sat, he kicked away the tables intervening the couches, leaving the area open with just two long parallel couches. Munson then lightly pushed you down onto the sofa, him quickly fastening his way above you, both your hands held down in restraint with a single one of his, rough fingers looped around your wrists stiffly pressing down. He’s got you held down just exactly how he pictured and you loved every thought of that.

“..open your legs for me.” he was firm, voice altered in a way it came out as a demand but used with such praise it had you yearning for him more. Slow hands approached your chest, deep inhales following from the tease. You instantly gave in, lovingly separating your legs for him, wide enough to wrap around his toned back, cunt so tightly tucked away into the panties he’d yank off now if he wanted to. Dark breaths slipped Eddie’s as he felt his crotch gain a chance into pushing deeper into your clothed core, you allowed the tease you felt above your bud and hugged his body tighter, nails sharply decorating the skin.

Although lost in the feeling, you felt your eyes wander off onto Steve, dick rock hard just by watching how Eddie humped himself into you. Free hand toying around with your breasts, mouth tuning right onto your ear; Steve just wished it was him, he fucking wished he was the reason why your mouth remained wide open, thoughtless eyes so needy to be done just right, you watched as he throbbed to the sight. He was tall, shiny waves making him taller, his breath only hitched to the eye contact he dedicated with you. Eyes hadn’t parten yours not once, almost as if he was sending subliminal messages as to what he’d do to you next. He seemed a lot more distant than Eddie would’ve ever been but fuck he had a cock he so proudly wore.

Smiling at the man who twitched in his pants, you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head as you began feeling Eddie’s strokes a lot deeper inside you now. How swiftly he replaced the coverage of your panties with the head of his cock had your focus right back onto him.

“you feel so fucking good” you praised in between moans to how firm he fucked your sensitive hole. Eddie was ecstatic above you, tattoos no nicely beginning to gain a smooth coverage from his sweat. Smirking in between wet strokes to how quickly he got you to regain his attention, eyes dark and in complete control over you, he fucked himself into you deeper.

“..isn’t this what you wanted?..” Eddie now continuously slammed his dick far inside you, you felt your legs weaken along with that familiar electricity rushing your veins. Cock tilting upwards to that spot you felt the most pleasure from, you savored the feeling of every inch of his bruising your cervix. Munson continued, “..for my cock to be buried so deep inside you I can’t fuck any further? mhm?” Sadistically, the man mocked your moans as you became a mess beneath him. He was thick, and knew how to use his gift well, thick heartfelt veins glued onto the underside of his cock, soft rounded tip hitting the sweetness of your pussy, you needed him to make you cum.

“…didn’t think we’d notice your pervy little self staring at our cocks all night?...” Eddie messily humped his cock into your warmth now, his eyes tightly shut soaking in every last bit of pleasure. “instead of doin’ her job, this slutty little brat..wanted to drool over two-” Eddie hissed, cutting himself off. ”warm hole..” His breath hitching high at the end of his degradation, teeth grit together as he soon became a grunting monster for you, hair an absolute pretty tangle mixing a nice blend along his reddening cheeks. Eddie grabbed you and held you in-front of him close, still ravishingly belting into your cunt, he lowered his thumb onto your sensitivity bud rubbing perfect-paced circles onto the skin. He stared close into your eyes as he sent you over the edge, fucking you with his thumb and his cock, he knew what he was doing.

“i’m.. i’m-gonna”

“gonna’ what, sweetheart? you gonna’ what?” he lengthened his whiny tone in his last spoken word, toying the shit out of your climax.

Munson made sure he pumped for every single drop of his cum onto your frustrated body first, for him to later on fulfill his desire of dumping his second cum into your mouth. Feeling that explosive feeling approach it’s way through you, weakening you completely as Eddie held your weight, you watched as he fucked into your cunt once more before dangerously pulling away and releasing all over your breasts and abdomen. As if it was his pity gift for denying your orgasm.

Pure disappointment was written all over your face, all towards the man who devilishly enjoyed every second of detaining your orgasm. You felt him openly humiliate how worked up he’s got you, jeans soon choking his cock once more as he headed over towards Steve.

“fuck you” you spit at Eddie. Over with his bullshit games and so sexually frustrated you’ll kill to have anyone finish the job he’s started. You watched as he simply just looked up to where you sat across him, intimidating eyes grew fierce, lips remained shut and serious.

Your knees locked beneath you to the way he took a single look at you and turned his eye back to Steve, he immediately after got up from his stance and slowly nodded to your disrespect, the way he looked right now could’ve easily made you cum if you weren’t so frustrated with him. Slow predatory walk approached, wet hair concealing away the brightest parts of his eyes. He reached a hand and pulled you in by your neck threatening;

“..I swear you I’ll make you the biggest slut you’ve never even thought yourself capable of being.” he spoke, jeans loose and belt adding to the ambience along with the both of your lost breaths. He kissed you once before finding seat right next to Steve again, this time legs sat wide, and his back sinked into the couch, like he was ready for a show. The show he was aching to witness.

“..Stevey here says he wants his cock warmed up” Eddie now taunted away at Steve who could pop away his zipper if he hardens just a bit more, his hairy chest creeping out the shirt he wore, lips parted exasperatingly open as his legs slightly twitched from self-restraint.

Steve quickly used his fingers to signal you to go over towards him, he smiled at how you sweetly wiped your face with an arm and crawled your way to him.

He reached for you, assisting in any way he could’ve to accommodate your nude self onto his clothed lap. He took a look at you, at how sexually frustrated you presented yourself to him. Almost immediately he began placing little kisses onto your forehead, then cheek forwarding to your neck. Your eyes were sealed shut to the pretty feeling now, he held you so nicely that you felt yourself embarrassingly dampening his blue jeans. You soon felt his pair of cold hands directing your mandible to a pair of lips you glided with gently, you desperately inhaling as much of him as you could. His mouth was almost admiring, he appreciated your skin with adoration, he was easily the perfect balance to Eddie.

“Can I kiss you?” purred Steve onto the nape of your neck, gently kissing onto the exposed skin, traces of saliva gifting view onto his now fluffier lips. He was so sweet towards you, cleaning away left tears and admiringly massaging your shoulders strolling down to your arms. Steve only brushed his lips against yours, slowly toying away every time you tried fully closing the gap.

“I need you to kiss me.” you almost begged for his lips to explore your own, for them to sweeten your mouth just how he showed you he was able to sweeten your body. Steve paused and suddenly carried your weight onto the wall that sat behind you all, he wanted to get you warmed up to himself with a different feel from the couch first.

Harrington held you up against the wall and gently lowered his head, kissing you, lips crashing together like waves in the ocean, his lips were soft against yours, but you needed more. You inhaled sharply, aggressively clinging onto his shirt, needing all of him as much as possible, for him to finally make you cum, for him to put an end to the torture that is his tease. Steve caught on and returned the kiss harder, this time your bottom lip was captured between his and he began pursuing his body closer to yours, hardness pressing onto your stomach. Steve enjoyed every second of having you teased to the bare point you’re pathetically begging him to take his turn fucking you. Having him know exactly what it is he needed to do to have you beg his touch, to do about just enough to you and your body that you’re left with no choice that you can’t avoid wanting him this badly. Steve only proceeded to rubbing himself onto you harder, faster and smoother, he was now bucking himself onto your body. Soon after, the kiss grew incompetent, his tongue now involved you automatically got ahold of him in that cotton-top he wore

“I need to taste you. Let me taste you.” Steve only grew hungrier for you, the hungrier you grew for him, his mouth becoming sloppier synchronized with your own rhythm from the thought of finally savoring your pussy. You eagerly nodded to the man’s request, Steve impulsively beginning his trail of warm kisses along the path between your cum-filled breasts, him repeating the act to return and beginning with licking strips of saliva onto the cuddly skin,

“put them in my mouth” he kneeled below you, having his head be in perfect alignment with your tits as you just lowered into his open mouth.

Steve ravilishly latched onto your skin, using his tongue to tease your nipples you watched how he massaged your breasts as if they were only his. He wanted his mouth attached to every body part of yours and he showed you so by taking one of your breasts into the mouth he used to suck, groaning to himself from the taste. Holding the remaining of the skin into his hand, attaching and detaching himself with ‘pop’ sounds, strings of saliva following his soft lips and the breasts he suckled, he was doing everything just right. Him doing this nonstop you notice he slowly led his head down to your needy cunt. Steve held one of your legs above his shoulder and returned to his height, holding your weight up in the air before digging his head further between your thighs. Gently, he inhaled the natural esoteric scent you released, he kissing along your pussy lips before he instinctively took your clit into his mouth and continued to slurp every drop of your juices accessible. Steve now led your other leg above his other shoulder and tongued you down deeper, you wrapping your legs along his back, him holding you still with his grip.

Screaming inaudible praises you felt as Steve began taking steps from his stance and held you tight by your ass. He had his fingers sculpting you perfectly in his hands as he carried your weight above his head right back onto the couch you two played on before, his strength just turned you on more.

Eddie only groaned to himself from what he witnessed now, him unzipping his jeans to pump his tired cock from how provokingly you’re getting treated infront of him.

You quickly crawled off of Steve and laid onto the couch with your ass up in the air for him, arms holding the rest of your weight, Munson’s cock getting jerked off right on your face.

“Fuck.”

Steve husked to himself, his bottom lip getting caught between his teeth from the demonstration of how much you craved him, if eyes could speak his would say he was gonna fuck you right there, right now. You looked completely vulnerable to him, your holes were arched up for display for Steve who stared down at you, how you’re so prettily positioned for him, for his cock.

“Oh i’m gonna’ fuck you so hard..”

You felt him shift and mumble to himself, he was so serious, so fucking ready to push his cock into your pussy. He quickly ripped his pants away and stripped from his decorated boxers, you nodded as he toyed his length around your vulva in consent for him to finally adjust his head into your opening. He tapped his heavy cock onto your exterior before making his way in, sliding into you gently for you to take his width, firm hands pressing onto your arched waist,

“Just a little more for me baby, Oh yeah, you can take me so good.” continued he, grabbing onto the ass that danced along with his hips, him using your handles as extra support. He pushed himself further in, widening your hole to his size, you screeched to the feeling, “Shh, good girl.”

You moaned away causing the stranger to speed up. You loved his cock and you told him so in between teary mumbles and fuck you meant it, the way he fucked you felt so warm, he filled your cunt so perfectly, tips of his fingers not for once detaching from your body, wet kisses onto your mouth and dirty little praises into your ear. He’d become just the right amount of aggressive for you now, Steve latched onto your locs, soft grip to remove any excess from your face. He fucked himself into you just right and fuck how loud he was took over you completely. Steve held onto you harder, the hand that grabbed onto your hair soon reaching out to smack your ass; firm grips finalizing each touch. He fucked you so good you felt yourself unable to keep your mouth closed, you euphorically came with ease for him, body fluids dripping out of your cunt to which he swiped with his fingers and tongue-cleaned up entirely, mouth of his glistening with the moistness of your release.

“I want you to show me, show me how much you love this cock, beautiful.” Steve bargained, cock spraining out of your cunt to meet eye to eye with your nose as he sweetly kneeled you before him. He was throbbing for you, leaking mixtures of precum and your own arousal, dick so angelically sculpted you couldn’t hold aback anymore just how much you’d love to hear his pretty sounds again. You took him into your mouth, so gracefully kitten licking that desperate tip of his, you quickly allowing him to shape your mouth with his entrance. He felt warm and hard, pulsating inside your mouth like he’s never gotten a blowjob before. Steve tasted fresh on your tongue..

“Fuck- your mouth, agh- your mouth..”

He moaned away, voice coming out so surprisingly high-pitched it had your thighs locked together. Eddie just pumped his cock, wishing it was his cock you were swallowing instead. You knew that to him this was all blissful, drunk enough to not even attempt to hide his pretty moans but sober enough to know he wanted you to do this for him and so much fucking more. Eddie stood near you two now, him pumping his cock across your forehead while you choked on Steve’s. “..fucking look him in the eye while he bruises your throat, slut.” Eddie demanded, grabbing you by the throat and pushing you forward deeper onto Steve’s dick, your eyes attached onto Steve’s needier ones.

“Think you can fit two whole cocks inside that pretty mouth, think so baby?” Steve praised away, It took you completely for surprise how he went from shy and quiet to large and bold, but you loved it fucking loved this side of him.

Eddie instantly had his dick connecting to your cheek and grinned devilishly to the sight beneath him, occasionally swiping his length across your face patiently awaiting for an approval. Steve took his time desiring your mouth before he suddenly shifted himself to the far right of your cheek, bloating it a bit as he gave Eddie some space to fit himself into your gape. You took the men in, careful to not sink your teeth onto either one but confident enough to lick and suck them both satisfactorily. They both enjoyed how well taken care of you’re being right now, both just looking down at you, one seemingly on the verge of coming down your throat whilst the other couldn’t wait to have you comfortable enough to fuck your face in. Your cheeks remained bloated as you savored the taste of each of their cocks at once, obviously not being able to get them far in to how big they were.

Eddie now moved and stood behind you whilst Steve continued to bulk his hips infront of you.

“…what a cock-sucking whore, like me watching you down his cock don’t you, princess?” he grabbed a another significant amount of your hair and had you look back at him, fingers of his teasing at your nipples as Steve’s length not for once detached from your lips.

“Mhm” you tuned, meeting eye to eye with Eddie now who now took your arm in his hand and single-handedly led it to his hardness, having you jerk him off while you sucked off Steve. In between Steve’s praises and Eddie’s grunting you felt yourself become just as close as Steve was. They both praised, you were suckling each one now, turning every once in a while to face each of their cocks fairly.

“atta girl..so happy to have daddy share you with his friend, yeah?” giritted Munson, his large hand holding your neck to get off to the feel of his dick disappear into your throat. He was close, it was easy to memorize how sexily his stomach would tone whenever he was ready to feed you his cum.

“open.. your fucking mouth.” Eddie intervened, eyes rolling as he pumped another shot of his warmth right into your open mouth, him slapping the residue onto your cum-dripping lips. The man worn out of breath from his second release but fuck was he so hungry to watch how good you are at taking two cumshots into your mouth. He moved away and gave his friend space to dump his cum in right along with his own.

Steve neared his way to you, carefully accommodating each one of his thighs on either side of your head positioning you for the receiving of his shot. You innocently looked up at him, how you opened your cum-filled mouth for him instantly sent him over to his climax, he was already shooting strings of cum all over your face following loud whines in which he couldn’t contain.

“You’re so.. fucking perfect..” cherished Steve, leaving you a complete slutty cum-filled mess.

You swallowed their seed whole to from which they both fucking admired you doing for them.

–

Both Steve and Eddie got dressed quickly before strolling around in search of your own clothes. They firstly began by sweetly wiping away any residue mess you might’ve gotten left with, tons of damp paper towels from the bathroom helping you get cleaned up. Work blouse getting put over your head by one whilst the other helped your arms go through the fabric, skirt getting placed and zipped up whilst you got assisted in your dressing.

They both ended the night by kissing your skin adoringly before helping you close the place up. They contributed in every way possible to leave the room and the bar spotless for you, comforting you along the way to Eddie’s van.

You sat in the back with Steve who held your sleepy head onto his lap, caressing away your hair and your face whilst Eddie played some of your favorites and carefully drove you home, checking up on you more than needed.

Easy to say that it was all destined to be as you attempted to hover those slutty little after-thoughts to the inactive part of your brain, to which were kept restrained in compulsion throughout the night to when you first met eye to eye with the men you sat in that van with. You felt at ease now though, you were getting treated like the princess the men saw you as, and you loved every single minute of it…

Whatever the fuck they were doing tonight ; drunkly slurring words onto one another, lips so eagerly speaking about something so reluctant had you locked onto them. Had you recklessly doing things you never thought yourself to do.

Eddie was right, he made you a so much bigger slut than you saw yourself capable of being.

264 notes · View notes

blueywrites · 5 months

Note

eddie frequents the curtained adult area of family video and steve always complains that he knows far too much about munsons kinks.

curiosity overwhelms you so you go over to smoke with him and lightly tease him about it. he shows you a super hot porno full off butt stuff on the woman AND the man.

this was fun to explore! cw: butt stuff, mutual masturbation, unedited.

You fancy yourself to be pretty sexually liberal - it doesn't phase you to talk about dirty stuff with friends, including their personal escapades. So when you hear Steve grumbling about all the dirty videos Eddie checks out, you know you're gonna tease him about it next time you see him. You don't really expect him to narrow his eyes and challenge you back by offering to pop in the one he just rented, but hey, why not? You shrug and say sure, not even bothering to ask what it's about, which Eddie seems amused by when he plops back down beside you on the couch, closer than he normally would be if he wasn't high. The film is typical - a 70s era tint, exaggeratedly sensual music, a ridiculous premise to lead into the fucking. You both giggle at the punny innuendos, muttering little quips back and forth, then finally fall quiet once the film makes its shift, leaning forward with interest. His elbow is hot when it brushes against you as he makes himself comfortable; you pull your legs up cross-legged, and when your knee nudges his thigh, you leave it there.

And that's where you thought it would remain: a smidge of lightly-loaded touching and some new fantasy material to touch yourself to later. What you didn't expect was for the guy to go from the standard 'two in the pink' while he eats her pussy to slipping his middle finger in her ass, pumping it in and out as she moans and fists her hand in his hair. Your clit throbs, and your belly tightens with a tingling heat, and you can't help but steal a glance at Eddie to see whether you're the only one affected. He's got his head tipped back against the couch while he watches the TV with a bloodshot, half-lidded gaze, and it's pulling the cords of his pale neck taut and making his adams apple look so prominent all of a sudden. Why is that erotic? you ask yourself, your eyes snapping back to the television when his chin nudges toward you like he's sensed you're looking at him.

"Uh--" You hear him clear his throat, just the tiniest bit hesitant, and you look back at him again. "How would you feel if, like..." Eddie wags his head slowly as if he's trying to find the words, though clearly he gives up going for subtlety when he finally finishes, "I jacked off right now?"

The thought makes your clit positively ache, but you play it cool, shrugging again as you tell him, "Sure."

The next moment he's fumbling eagerly with his belt like maybe he'd been feeling as needy as you are. You try not to look when he pulls himself out, but between the guy on screen burying himself between her legs and the constant moaning, you really can't help yourself. Eddie's cock is real ruddy at the tip, so much redder than his hand when it disappears into his fist, and the way he flicks his wrist with such practiced ease makes you think about how many times he's likely sat on this couch touching himself like this until he cums all over his twitching abdomen. God, that's fucking hot to imagine.

And it wouldn't be weird for you to touch yourself too, right? Like, obviously, Eddie wouldn't care. And it's no big deal, really, touching yourself next to your friend, especially when you're already watching porn together. So you shove your hand down your pants, sighing quietly as you swipe the tips of your fingers over your clit, letting that tingle center and build there.

So there you are, sitting next to Eddie while you both watch this porno, pretending you're not listening to the tiny sounds of each others' pleasure and sneaking quick glances at your arms moving rhythmically over your own laps. It's already more than you would've expected when you came over thinking about teasing him. And you haven't even gotten to the good part yet: when the guy on screen turns over, spreading his legs so the girl can run her hands up the back of his thighs and nestle close to lick his ass.

Cause then you start thinking about something you never would've ever fuckin' thought you'd think of before. Namely, what it'd be like to see Eddie like that - on his knees, moaning for you while you lick his ass.

Fuck.

You glance to the side again and catch Eddie's wide brown eyes. He's looking at you too, and with the way he's biting his lip through a crooked grin, you're about to say 'fuck it' and ask if you can do it here and now, damn the implications to hell.

Sexually liberal, indeed.

#blueysnaughtynights #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut

293 notes · View notes

captainamsel · 7 months

Text

Ma Xiuying from the Radiant Emperor duology!

Design/research notes under the cut

The characters read 馬秀英 (Pinyin: mǎ xiù yīng), her personal name, and 孝慈高皇后 (xiào cí gāo huáng hòu), her name as Empress.

There's certainly no dearth of material on Chinese clothing history out there. That is, if you can read Chinese, which I can't, so everything I have is from secondary and tertiary sources and/or relies on translation software. Fortunately, we're dealing with historical fantasy here, so some anachronisms are not only allowed but encouraged.

While Shelley Parker-Chan takes many liberties, the books are still set in a very specific time period, which is both a blessing and a curse. Most readily accessible resources will tell you about dynasties, which can span hundreds of years, and the duology takes place in a transitional period. So how to dress a Semu girl from the Yuan dynasty who lives with Nanren rebels wanting to revive the Song dynasty and who later becomes the first Ming empress?

Let's go through them one by one. The best resource was this book which is on the Internet Archive. I disregarded Mongol and Semu influences for the design since clothing is very much political and a way to either stand out or fit in with the surrounding society, see for example Wang Baoxiang wearing a topknot in Khanbaliq. Ma, I imagine, would want to fit in with the Nanren around her, so she's pretty much wearing the attire of Han women under Yuan rule. For the hair I went for something that looks youthful while being plausible, though I found very little on hair in this period, so who's to say.

The next one is from a specific scene in the book, so there is some description to go on: red, long sleeves with gold embroidery, high hair, red and gold ribbons. Since this is the scene where Ma declares herself queen and future empress in front of the Red Turban, it has to be a very deliberate dress. It therefore takes inspiration from Song aristocrats' broad-sleeved gowns as well as from 翟衣 (dí yī), the highest ceremonial gown of both Song and Ming empresses. (Some examples for 翟衣 are in this post, which also features the bird shaped crown I just had to include, and this post.) Her hair still has the loops, but it's much more sculpted.

Finally, Empress Ma! This is mainly based on the two actual portraits I could find of the historical figure that Ma is based on, with elements taken from other portraits and paintings. It includes 凤冠 (fèng guān), the phoenix crown, 霞帔 (xiá pèi), the sash, and 禁步 (jīn bù), the jade belt. This video shows how Ming dynasty layers are worn, but it refers to a much later period so it's not quite the same as Ma's.

(Some additional, historically irrelevant notes: I realized too late that a right-to-left timeline might be more appropriate. Oh well! Also, how the colours photograph frustrates me, I swear I did not make her this deathly pale. And finally, some of the characters look a bit smudged because my cat spilled water on them. I did what I could to save them.)

#ma xuiying #the radiant emperor #she who became the sun #he who drowned the world #shelley parker chan

367 notes · View notes

daisyvisions · 29 days

Text

I Wanna Be Your Dog - (k.yh)

➺ Pairing: Rockstar!Younghoon x Assistant!Reader

➺ Summary: Your job as an assistant to the band is simple: handle their schedule, and do what they ask you to do. But how far are you willing to help one member out with a certain ask if it means keeping your job?

➺ Word Count: 3.8k

➺ Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), fem!reader, unprotected sex, creampies, edging, male masturbation, guided masturbation, handjobs, slight fingering, riding, lots of making out, groping, sexual fantasies, mutual pining (?), younghoon is down bad for reader (sub!younghoon if you squint), marking, mentions of hookups, pet name used (baby)

➺ A/N: Finally, my birthday fic for Younghoon is up! I had planned to write for rockstar younghoon ever since this tiktok edit came out last year. This was not the original story I had in mind but I hated how the outline was going and decided to save it for another member and use this plot instead. Title is inspired from the song of the same name by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts because the lyrics fit so well with one particular scene of the fic (iykyk). Proofread once, enjoy 😉

➺ Network & Tag: @deoboyznet @snowflakewhispers @winterchimez @aimeecarreros (thank you for introducing me to the song 😈)

For as long as you could remember, you've always wanted to work in the music industry. There was something about that chaotic world that you thought was magical. You were so determined to become a part of that universe you didn't care where you would end up.

And that is how you became the assistant to one of the hottest acts to ever grace the stage.

At first, you were way too excited to be involved in the day-to-day of the band's schedule; you didn't even care if you had to run many blocks just to get the specific brand of coffee they wanted.

But soon enough, the rose-colored lenses you had on would crack. Not only did you have to take care of the band's schedule and be at their beck and call, but you were also in charge of cleaning up their mess.

Which is the reason you ended up sitting through a one-hour phone call with the band's manager as he practically yaps your ear off about the band's lead guitarist.

"Do you know how many NDAs I had to sign just so these groupies would keep their mouths shut about Younghoon?" Jacob exclaims.

"I know, I'm the one who prints and mails those documents for you." You sigh heavily.

"The board is getting pissed off. It's getting too much! He has a sex addiction at this point!"

"Well, it's not like we can make him wear a chastity belt or a purity ring to stop him! You know how he gets." You reply, trying to hold in your frustration from how long this call has been going.

"They are in the process of promoting their next album and going on tour. If Younghoon keeps this up and the press finally catches on, it will not be a good look for us all." Jacob takes a deep breath and pauses for a moment.

"I need you to keep him in line," Jacob says to you with a stern voice.

"What?! How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know, you're the assistant. It's your job to take care of those guys. Do something about it or you can say goodbye to your job."

Jacob puts the phone down immediately without even waiting for your reply. You throw your phone to the side, your heart racing as you feel the frustration consuming you, and it's not even eight in the morning.

You can't afford to lose your job. Not after you've worked so hard to get where you are already. And you will definitely not lose your job just because Younghoon can't keep it in his goddamn pants.

No, you're going to do something about this no matter what it takes.

As you insert the spare key in the lock of Younghoon's apartment, you're instantly startled as a figure appears before you. Her disheveled appearance already tells you who or rather, why she's in his apartment. Great, another day of running into a groupie.

"Oh, Lin, isn't it?" You try to give her a smile. You introduce yourself as the band's assistant.

"Oh—hi," she responds, but her eyes were looking elsewhere. "Excuse me, I gotta go, late for… an appointment," she mumbles.

"Of course, it was nice meeting you!" You put on that people-pleasing voice. Lin nods in return before stumbling out the door. You make a mental note to track her address and send her an NDA later in the day.

You walk further into Younghoon's apartment, already listing out in your head the mess you have to clean up later as you quickly scan different areas of the living room. You find him still dead asleep in his bed, probably unaware that his latest conquest has left the building as you walk closer to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Younghoon? You awake?" You gently shake his shoulder. As you continue to wake him up, you're caught by surprise as he grabs your arm and pulls you into his embrace.

"Hey baby, up so early?" His deep morning voice rings in your ear as his face buries into your neck.

You try to keep yourself composed as you wriggle yourself free, but your eyes widen at the sudden realization that doing so was a mistake as you feel something hard digging between your ass.

"Younghoon, I—"

"So eager for round two, huh? Don't worry, baby, I'll let you take the lead this time." He kisses a sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder as his hands start drifting near your hips. Before anything escalates, you pull his hands away and reach behind to flick him in the forehead.

"Younghoon, it's me!" You shout, sitting upright once more and shaking off that fluttering feeling growing inside your stomach.

"Ow. What the— oh. Oh hey!" He smiles at you. "Where's—"

"Already left. Witnessed her walk of shame just as I was going in," you smirk. "I brought you breakfast; better see you outside in ten minutes, alright?" You slap his shoulder to wake him up.

"Alright, alright, I'll get up," he groans as he turns to his side.

"Aw, all this for me? You shouldn't have." Younghoon slings his arm over your shoulder as he watches you set all the food on the counter.

"Just sit down and eat. We need to talk about something." You shrug his arm off.

"To talk… What did I do this time?" He sarcastically replies as he sits across from you.

"It's not what you did this time; it's what you keep on doing, Younghoon." You grab his plate and fill it up with the food on the table.

"Look, Jacob called me this morning, and he's not happy with your—" You pause, trying to come up with a proper way to address the problem.

"With my… what?" Younghoon takes a big bite from his plate, his eyes trained on yours as he waits for you to finish.

"Your sex addiction." You decide to get straight to the point. "You fuck nearly every girl that bats her pretty eyelashes at you or even gives you a decent amount of attention."

"Hey, I can't help myself, you know? This is the rockstar's life, after all." He shrugs as he takes a sip from his glass.

"Yeah, well, if you don't get that controlled and continue thinking with your dick, it's not gonna look good for the press," you reply.

"Since when have we cared about what the press thought?" Younghoon asks with slight irritation in his voice.

"Please, Younghoon, I need you to keep it together just until promotions and the tour are over. My job is on the line here." Your voice starts quivering. Younghoon sees your eyebrows scrunching and the tiny tear forming at the corner of your eye.

Oh, how he wishes he could kiss those worries away right now and keep you close to him. Seeing you like this whenever you're frustrated or upset makes his heart ache with a feeling he can't explain. It's probably because he has a soft spot for you, ever since you started working for them. And if he's the reason that you end up losing your job, he doesn't know how he'll be able to sleep at night.

"Please?" Your tiny voice calls him back to reality as your soft hands hold one of his. And how could he ever say no to you?

"Alright," Younghoon sighs out. "I'll do it. But it's not gonna look pretty." You chuckle at his response.

"I promise you can go back to doing whatever after the promotions. Deal?" You gently squeeze his hand for reassurance. Younghoon places his other hand on top of yours and squeezes in return.

"You got it, boss."

Much to your surprise, Younghoon does a fairly good job at keeping his word. At first, it was a bit difficult, but he somehow managed to pull through.

He couldn't forget that one time he was almost about to fuck the girl lying on his bed until he suddenly remembered your face and how upset you would've been if you found out what he was doing. He couldn't bear the thought of disappointing you, so he just came up with a lousy excuse for the groupie to leave and fisted himself later in the night until he was satisfied enough.

And since then, that's what he had been doing to get by. He was either fucking his hand or fleshlight while imagining all the different one-night stands he had in the past. But as the days went by, it was getting harder for him to reach that sweet release. Not even watching porn would get him off the way it did before.

He needed to touch and be touched, a pair of lips kissing him everywhere, and moans of pleasure ringing in his ear… he couldn't wait till the tour was over until he could finally ravish someone and forget their name the next day. Sounds like a shitty way to live but hey, this is the kind of life he chose for himself.

Just two more months, Younghoon, what's the worst that can happen?

Sweat starts to form on Younghoon's forehead as he vigorously pumps his throbbing length. He had been trying to get off for a while now, but it seems nothing has been working. This was the worst case of blue balls he has ever had, and if he doesn't cum any second now, he might go insane.

Younghoon starts to dig deep into his memories of past hookups to see if there was one moment he can use to get himself off. There was one memory that seemed to pop into his mind, but not any of the hookups he had remembered. No, it was a memory of you. The day you came into the apartment to talk to him about his problem.

He recalls the smell of your perfume when he buried his face into your neck, the way your ass rubbed against his morning wood accidentally, and how soft your hands were when you held his hand during breakfast.

His cock throbbed in his hand remembering those small moments, playing an imaginary scenario in his mind wherein you didn't stop his hands from traveling to your hips. How he would've pressed himself into you further and continued kissing your neck. How his hands would’ve groped your breasts tenderly as he whispered filth into your ear and you would’ve moan his name in response.

"So pretty…" he murmurs to himself as he bucks his hips up, thinking how beautiful and kind you've always been to him even if he tends to be an asshole at times.

He moans at the thought of how soft your lips would feel against his own, remembering the time you drunkenly kissed him on the cheek during that one after-party a few days ago. He had to quickly turn away from you to hide his cheeks turning pink.

God, he knows his abstinence from sex has gotten so bad to the point that even the smallest gestures from you are enough to send the blood in his veins right down to his cock. He's never been this hard in his life, and he can't tell anymore if it's because he's blue-balled or because he's thinking about you.

Either way, Younghoon was all up in his head that he didn't even hear his front door being unlocked as you let yourself in.

Your visit to Younghoon's tonight was unplanned. He had forgotten his lucky leather jacket in the studio a week ago, and you took it upon yourself to get it dry-cleaned for him.

As soon as you got the call from the dry cleaners, you thought it would be nice to drop by his place and surprise him with his newly cleaned jacket and bring his favorite food for a late night snack. After all, you wanted to show him how grateful you were for keeping his word.

"Younghoon?" You call out his name. You knew he was home after spotting his keys and wallet on the console table. You try to call his name again but still no response. He must be asleep. I should go check on him, you think to yourself.

Younghoon? He hears your sweet voice ringing in his ear. God, he must be down so bad if he can start hearing you call out his name, as if you're right close by. He can already feel himself closer to the edge as he hears his name once again, pumping himself to the point of no return until his door suddenly swings open.

"Younghoon, I— Oh my god!"

"Shit!"

You both catch each other by surprise.

You tried to look elsewhere, but the image of Younghoon jerking himself off is now burned into your memory, and you don't know what to do. Younghoon, on the other hand, whimpers from the loss of his orgasm.

Had you been delayed by a second or two, he would've released his load onto his stomach, relieving himself of stress. But now, he's on the verge of crying as he feels himself getting incredibly pent up.

"I'm so sorry, I'll just go—" You turn around quickly.

"No, wait!" Younghoon's voice stops you from closing the door. You couldn't help but turn around and face him once more. He looked like he was in pain, his eyes becoming watery as he deeply breathes in and out.

"Help me…" He cries out to you.

"W-what?" Your eyes widen. He can't be serious, right?

"Please! I can't— been trying. I can't do it." A tear falls down his pale cheek.

"Please, it hurts so bad…" He whimpers once again.

"Younghoon, I can't—"

"Please! Just this once. We'll never speak of it again—" He pleads like his life depends on it. And with the way he's looking at you like you're the only one that can help him get out of this sticky situation, how could you say no to him?

"A-alright." Your feet move towards him even before you replied, your body already deciding for you on what you need to do next.

You sit beside him, placing your hand on his thigh as you glance over his hand gripping his cock. You feel your core pulsate at his pink tip peeking out from his fist. But you try your best to completely ignore whatever intrusive thought you have and place your hand on top of his, gently holding it as you look into his eyes.

"Just this once, okay?" You hover above his cock enough for your spit to fall onto the tip and move his hand slowly up and down as you guide him through his orgasm.

This wouldn't be the first time you've seen his cock. The first two times were by pure accident and from afar too. But nothing could've prepared you from seeing his member up close.

The way the veins are protruding from how rock hard he is at the moment, wondering what it must feel like to fill you up to the hilt. You try to think of anything deemed unsexy as you stare at his manhood, but that ends up failing as you start to feel your underwear slowly getting wet by the second.

While you're too caught up in your own thoughts, Younghoon couldn't help but stare at the way you looked at his cock, all slack-jawed and dreamy-eyed. It was like you wanted to do more than guide him, like you were ready to devour him any moment from now. As if a dark cloud of lust is slowly taking over you right before his very own eyes. And that was turning him on a lot.

He subconsciously reaches out for you with his free hand, his fingers holding onto the back of your neck as he pulls you in for a kiss. Your lips are even sweeter than he had imagined, making his heart beat so fast from how soft they feel on his own. Younghoon knows this moment won't last forever, so he decides to just enjoy it while it lasts.

You instantly moan from the feeling of his lips on yours, holding his wrist as you lean forward to press yourself against him. You pull his hand away from his cock and replace it with yours instead, the softness of your palm wrapped around his length making him hiss in pleasure. You start to grip him harder, controlling the pace of your hand jerking him off.

Younghoon groans into your mouth as he slips his tongue inside. His hands grabbing onto your hips before pulling you closer to him to straddle his lap. You continue to jerk him off as his hands start caressing the sides of your body.

"Please…" he whines into your mouth.

"Tell me what you need, Younghoon—" You kiss his cheek before moving down to his neck.

"Wanna touch you— fuck— Can I touch you? Please let me touch you." His eyebrows knit in pleasure as your lips suck a particularly sensitive part of his throat.

Too busy with lightly sucking on his skin, you grab one of his hands and guide him to the front button of your pants, signaling him to remove the article of clothing from you for better access. He wastes no time helping you out of your jeans and having you back on his lap.

His fingers slowly sliding beneath your underwear, groaning at the sensation of how wet your folds are. He's honestly amazed at how you're able to get this wet without being touched; it motivates him to slide his fingers between before finally circling around your sensitive bud.

You let out a soft whine as you feel your knees turn into jelly. All you could think about right now is to sink yourself down onto his member and ride him into the sunset. Somehow it was like he could read your mind as you feel his hand pull your underwear to the side and the other pull you by the hip to align your entrance right above his tip.

"This okay?" You look down at him.

"Y-yeah, more than okay." He stutters.

"C'mere." You lean down to kiss him, slowly letting yourself sink down to the base of his cock.

Both of you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding until you finally sat on his lap. The feeling of Younghoon being fully sheathed inside you already has you seeing stars, and you haven't even moved yet. He swallows your moans as he starts bucking his hips up, holding you in a tight embrace as he fucks himself into your tight hole.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" He mumbles as he pulls his lips away from yours to get a good look at your face.

The way he looked at you as if you had a halo around you was making the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy. You knew the effect he had on you, especially when he would randomly flirt with you. But for some reason, the effect of his words felt different.

It was like he was confessing something he had locked up inside of him for a long time, making you blush like an idiot. Your eyebrows knit in pleasure as his thrusts start to become faster. Your walls are gripping him like a vice; he knows he's bound to reach his peak anytime soon.

"Let go for me, Younghoon, you can do it." You whisper in his ear.

As soon as you say these words, a sudden burst of warmth blooms inside you. His hips relax onto the mattress as he comes down from his high, but his hands guide your hips up and down his cock, helping you reach your own release.

He must've been so pent up, you think to yourself as you feel him still incredibly hard inside you. The tip of his manhood nudges that sweet spot deep inside you so good you feel yourself nearly falling over the edge.

"K-keep going, baby—" He breathes out. "Use me."

You take control of your own movement and bounce on him like there's no tomorrow. Your fingernails raking the sensitive skin on his chest as you chase your own high. Younghoon can feel himself reaching his own high too the more you keep this pace up.

Everything about this moment was making him absolutely dizzy. Your walls practically choke holding his dick, his first load already dripping out of you and coating his balls, and the way the squelching sounds echo in the room as you use him for your own pleasure?

He will never look at you the same way ever again. You've officially ruined him for anyone else after this.

"Younghoon, I'm gonna—"

"C'mon baby, cum on me. Fuck— make me yours." He mumbles as he feels close to the edge with you.

After a few more bounces, the rope inside you finally snaps, making you cum so hard you feel like you're going to faint. Younghoon's second release follows right after yours, but this time his load is more than the first. You both know for sure that as soon as he pulls out, a waterfall of your mixed juices is bound to rush out of your hole. So you just decide to keep him close longer as you both try to catch your breath.

You lay your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his breathing pattern slowly regulating as he rubs his hand up and down your back. You both bask in the silence a little longer, secretly savoring the moment before you have to part ways.

"Younghoon?" You lift your head to look up at him. He hums in response.

"If— if ever you need help with this at a different time…" You pause for a moment. "I'd be happy to volunteer." You feel your cheeks burn up at the thought of doing this with Younghoon again.

"Yeah? You wanna help me out?" His eyes widen, his heart beating faster again knowing this wouldn't be the last intimate moment with you.

"Yeah, just as long as you sign an NDA about it." You jokingly reply. He chuckles and kisses your forehead.

"Well, get ready to print a lot of those—" He grabs your ass and gives it a good slap, making you yelp in surprise.

"—because you have a lot of catching up to do."

#deoboyznet #kim younghoon #younghoon #the boyz smut #the boyz hard hours #tbz scenarios #the boyz fic #the boyz fanfic #tbz drabbles #younghoon smut #younghoon scenarios #tbz smut #the boyz scenarios #kpop smut #tbz hard hours

129 notes · View notes

another-lost-mc · 1 year

Text

Rubies in the Dark LUCIFER x gn!Reader 4.9k Words | NSFW | Medieval Fantasy AU | Dubious Behaviour Content Warnings: Dark Elvish Prince!Lucifer x Alchemist!Reader. Contains descriptions of monsters, magic and blood/gore/violence; minor injury; implied stalking, breaking and entering, invasion of privacy; dream magic, dream sex, mutual masturbation, implied somnophilia. (Also, shameless references to Warcraft lore because it inspired the worldbuilding for this story.) A/N: This is my fic for @bizarrebankai's 1k Follower Collab! 💙

It’s been nearly five years since you left your family’s small farm to create a new life in Hillsbrad Foothills. You didn’t have any weapons' training and you weren’t magically gifted. Some of your childhood friends were, and they were able to move away to pursue new adventures, leaving you behind. Your family expected you to accept your boring country life, but you knew you wanted more. Disappointment and heartbreak finally motivated you to pack your meager belongings and set off on your own adventure.

You might not be a warrior or mage, but your new freedom gave you the opportunity to explore and study your true passion for alchemy. Your small cottage is located in one of the villages near the Alterac Mountains. Most of the villagers are hunters, gatherers, or tradesmen.

You make a comfortable living trading your alchemy creations to the other villagers. The foothills are an abundant source of some of the most useful flowers and herbs for crafting utility potions and healing elixirs. You don’t like to let things go to waste; the discarded plants you can’t use are milled and turned into ink that you supply to the local constable and village leaders.

In exchange for your services, they provide you with clothing and food and other useful goods. Your life is lonely, but it’s comfortable. Time has healed old wounds and very rarely is your mind plagued with doubt and regret; you know you’re better off without your unsupportive family and the weak-willed ex-lover you left behind.

Today was surprisingly busy and you were in your alchemy lab all morning. The weather started to turn and you saw clouds rolling over the hills when you peeked out the window. You glance at your herb reserves hesitantly and wonder if you have enough time to gather some more before the storm comes.

One of the village’s recent hunts ended bloodier than usual–there weren't any deaths, but more hunters were seriously wounded than normal. You were more than eager to provide them with potions to accelerate their recovery, but most of your supplies have run out as a result.

The wildlife in the foothills has become exceedingly aggressive. There aren’t many visitors to these quiet lands. There are rumors circulating the village of suspicious travellers conducting experiments with local animals and plant life along the region’s uninhabited borders. They talk about rabid animals and foliage overrun with disease, but you’ve been fortunate not to come across anything like that yourself.

The foothills aren’t easily accessible and are used mainly as a thoroughfare to other regions. There’s only one main road travelers can use to bypass the mountains: the eastern road leads into the valleys and the sea beyond; or the western road that winds up through Silverpine Forest, a thick and dark place nestled along the mountain range.

You’ve heard stories about Silverpine Forest, too–or the Demon’s Forest, if suspicious townsfolk are to be believed. Some people say that monsters hunt along the road at night. If the legends are true, they capture weary travelers and unsuspecting hunters and drag them to their demise in the dark, never to be seen or heard from again. This land might be home to magical and wondrous things, but even you doubt that the stories are true.

Regardless of what you believe, you try to be cautious when you go out to collect herbs on your own. You attach a long knife to your belt before you slip on your cloak, although it is more useful for trimming leaves and brances than for protection.

You bite your lip and glance nervously at the sky. The clouds overhead threaten rainfall, but you think you have enough time to restock some of your depleted resources. You slip out of your little cottage and follow the stone path to the main road heading west.

Today’s harvest is productive and uneventful. These foothills are an excellent source of Briarthorn and Silverleaf, some of the most potent herbs you use regularly. You’ll be able to provide the local healers with more elixirs with extras to spare.

You don’t normally venture this close to the western border, but you naturally follow the most abundant patches of herbs and it led you there. You haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary, but you’re still eager to return to your cottage before it gets too late.

You set along the path that will lead you home when a strange sound carries on the wind and catches your attention. It doesn’t sound human, but you recognize the whimpers and whines of a creature in pain. You take a hesitant step off the main road, and then another, until you’re walking slowly, carefully, through the grass towards the noise.

The unusual sounds lead you down a deep, sloping hill towards one of the region’s abandoned mines. You shiver from the sudden drop in temperature–something about the air in this area feels unsettling and desolate, and it sets your nerves on edge. The pained noises come from just inside the opening of one of the mining tunnels. You peek around the corner carefully, and you spot some sort of wounded animal.

At a first glance, you think it might be a type of bear, but it’s hard to tell without getting closer. It’s stuck in a tangled mess of thick, white webbing that pins it to the ground. The beast raises its head when your leather boot disturbs some loose stones, and its eyes–or is that two pairs of eyes?–blink at you. The beast is still whimpering in pain, but a low growl echoes around you now, too.

You hold up your hands and show the beast you mean it no harm. It sniffs the air curiously and the growling fades, which you interpret as a sign that it’s safe to approach. You kneel at the beast’s side and examine the webs trapping the poor animal in place. You stroke its furry back soothingly as you slowly cut away the thinner sections of webbing, but the thicker ropes along the beast’s back are too tough for your knife to hack through.

You’re so distracted by your task that a new sound startles you and makes your blood run cold; the beast starts to growl louder and more menacing than before. There’s a hissing noise approaching you from deep within the mine. The flurried sound of skittering limbs echo off the stone walls. Dozens of yellowish eyes seem to float in the darkness further down the tunnel from you and the beast.

It appears that the mines are home to a nest of overgrown spiders. The spiders are nothing like what you’ve seen before: they’re nearly as tall as you are and much wider. They have gnarly limbs and strange, pulsing growths jutting from their backs.

You have no weapons except for your knife, and it’s a poor substitute for a proper sword or axe–not that you could wield either of those successfully, even if you had one. The beast struggles to break free of its bindings next to you, but its limbs are still immobilized by the webs.

You don’t want to run and leave the beast to a bloody fate, but you don’t want to be devoured by the monsters approaching you either. You’re paralyzed by indecision and fear. You remember the stories of suspicious individuals creating abominations from nature in their wake. You didn’t want to believe the rumors were true; you didn’t think this is how you would die.

Something knocks into your back, and you yell in fright as you’re pushed aside. You’re afraid that a monster ambushed you from behind, but instead you see a tall figure wearing leather hunting gear underneath a long, dark cloak.

Whoever it is stops and examines the beast closely, and a male voice speaks to it in a strange language you don’t understand. He pats the beast’s heads–all three of them– before he approaches the swarm of spiders. He doesn’t hesitate to draw a long steel blade, and you stare in horror as he marches towards certain death.

“Hey, wait, don’t–!” you try to warn the stranger. You realize very quickly that your warning was not wanted or needed.

It’s not a battle so much as it is a slaughter. His movements are graceful but quick, and they’re difficult for you to follow. He darts a path through the monsters, his sharp weapon slicing through the air and cutting them down effortlessly. Frenzied, monstrous shrieks and hissing fill the air; the sound of flesh slicing and squelching blood makes you nauseous. The musty mine air grows heavy with the hint of copper. You clench your eyes shut and cover your ears.

Eventually, the sounds of carnage fade into nothingness, and all you can hear now is the wild thumping of your heartbeat. When you open your eyes, the hooded stranger is standing near the beast’s side once more. His sword drips black-red ichor from the slain spiders, and he wipes the blade clean. He cuts through the webbing so the beast can finally stand up properly. It reminds you of an enormous dog as it shakes its dark fur. Its heads each try to lick at the stranger’s face, and you hear a soft huff of amusement; it nearly makes you smile, despite everything you’ve just gone through.

The stranger finally seems to remember your presence and turns to face you. Most of his face is shrouded in darkness with his hood still up, but you know he’s staring at you. His attention feels weighted, almost suffocating. His aura is intense and you’ve seen for yourself he’s capable of ruthless bloodshed, but for some reason, you don’t feel afraid.

His head tilts questioningly. “Why?” his smooth voice asks quietly. “Why did you stop to help him?”

“I wanted to,” you reply honestly. You cringe when you realize how naive it sounds. You could’ve died, and you probably would have died, if not for the traveler’s excellent timing.

You don’t know what to say, and neither does he judging by his icy silence. Something catches your eye when you take a better look at his clothing. There’s a gash on his arm, and the thin material of his tunic is already soaked with blood from the wound. “You’re hurt,” you point out worriedly.

He looks at his arm like he didn’t even notice he was wounded, but he startles when you approach him without hesitation. “What do you think you’re–?” the stranger demands, but he only makes a half-hearted attempt to pull away from you.

You shake your head to silence his complaints and focus on his injury. You normally carry a small assortment of bandages in one of your pouches, pre-soaked with healing elixir, and you unwrap one and press it to his arm. You wrap it around the wound as gently as you can.

“I make these myself,” you explain to him quietly. You move the ripped fabric of his shirt aside, and your fingers brush against his bare skin. You hear a sharp intake of breath, and you pause tying the bandage in place. “Is it too tight?”

Even with his hood up, you can tell he’s shaking his head. “No, no–it’s fine."

When you’re satisfied with your work, you step back and give him some space. The man seems to be focused on his arm now, and the strange tension between you makes you nervous. Before you can think of anything else to say, rumbling thunder booms in the distance outside the mine and you look over your shoulder. The sky is even darker now, and only the barest hints of sunlight peek through the clouds.

You suddenly feel the tingling sensation of magic in the air. You turn around to ask the man if he lives nearby and what his name is, but he and his beast are gone. You scan the tunnel as far as your eye can see, but nothing else remains except for the plagued spider creatures the traveler killed to save you.

More thunder booms, louder and closer than before, and you rush from the mine. You see no sign of the man or his beast, but the storm brews on the horizon. You have no choice but to continue the journey home as quickly as you can and hope that they’re safe now too.

The villagers are on high alert after you inform them of the monstrous spiders you encountered near the western border of the region. You leave out the details of meeting the cloaked stranger and his three-headed beast.

Your thoughts drift to them often in the days that pass since that tense encounter. The traveler must be a gifted magic user if he was able to teleport them both away so easily. You feel the pang of envy when you think of your nonexistent magical skills, but you remind yourself that you’re an accomplished alchemist instead. You’ve honed your talents and found your own purpose in life; you don't need anything else.

Sometimes when you walk to town to buy supplies, or when you tend to the small garden of herbs near your cottage, you feel uneasy. You glance around nervously when the sensation of being watched makes your skin break out in goosebumps. You call out nervously and ask who’s there, but no one answers. The silence feels anticipatory somehow, and you wonder what it means.

The next morning you stumble tiredly from your room after a restless sleep. You think a warm cup of tea will help, but you freeze when you realize there’s a man in your house. His back is facing you while he looks over the alchemy texts and storybooks on your shelf. He turns to you properly when he hears your startled yelp of surprise.

The man looks like no one you’ve ever seen before. Black hair streaked with grey falls over his intense ruby-coloured eyes. He wears a silver circlet adorned with black opals. His black regalia is perfectly tailored and looks expensive. The dark fabric is accented with gold and red threads that almost seem to glitter in the sunlight shining through your window. His cloak is lined with fur, and his black leather boots are shined to a high polish. He clears his throat and tugs on the cuff of his gloves, almost like he’s nervous. Whoever the stranger is, he looks regal and important and painstakingly out of place in your humble cottage.

You should be afraid that a stranger broke into your home and looked through your belongings while you were sleeping in the next room unaware. However, there’s something familiar about him that you can’t place at first. You suddenly think of a three-headed beast and the cloaked stranger that saved you both, his pale, sharp jawline peeking below the shadow of his hood–

You realize the man before you is the swordsman from the mine, and he nods his confirmation when you ask him if he's one and the same. Your gaze lingers on his intense red eyes and the pointed tips of his ears, and he explains that he lives deep in Silverpine Forest with the elves. He tells you that he’s the crown prince of his kind, and he’s here because he owes you a debt of gratitude.

He looks visibly irritated when you tell him repayment of any kind isn’t necessary. Shouldn’t you be repaying him since he saved your life? But there’s a pink flush blooming across his cheeks despite his offended expression, and all he says is that it’s complicated. Apparently, risking your life to save elvish royalty–or his pet–is a big deal.

You rub your arms nervously and ask what he means. You’re expecting him to offer some sort of compensation, like gold or rare goods, and you plan on refusing all of it. What you don’t expect is for him to ask permission to court you. His eyes are serious and they blaze angrily when you burst into laughter at his proclamation.

(He doesn’t tell you that his brothers noticed his increasingly distracted behaviour the days following your fateful encounter. He washed the bandage you gave him and kept it for sentimental reasons he can’t even articulate properly. He can’t look at Cerberus without remembering how close he came to losing his beloved companion, or how brave you were to try to save him yourself. He thinks of how kind you were when you tended to his wounded arm and how gently you touched him–no one's ever touched him like that before.

He thinks about the spies he sent to your cottage to learn more about you, and how he grew too eager and started watching over you himself. He thinks about your reputable alchemy skills and kind nature, and how respected you are in your small village. He thinks about your potential, and how he can offer you so much more, if you’ll give him the chance.)

In the awkward silence that follows, you realize he isn’t joking and he's waiting for your response. You don’t mean to offend him, and you apologize profusely, but he can’t seriously expect you to accept such a proposal so easily, right?

But you think about your quiet isolation with only fleeting acquaintances among the townspeople to keep you company. You think about the world beyond the foothills that you pretend doesn’t exist. You’re not sure how you’ve ended up in another isolated prison of your own making.

Were you craving a sense of adventure when you let a strange beast’s cries lead you astray from the safest path home? What could someone like an elvish prince offer someone like you?

The world, a treasonous voice whispers in your mind. Judging by the mischievous gleam in his eye, you’re not sure whether that voice was yours or his.

You explain to him as gently as you can that you can’t accept such a bold offer of courtship, but you would be happy to accept an offer of friendship instead.

He readily agrees with your counter-proposal, and you wonder what you’re missing that makes him look so pleased; he looked ready to attack you for wounding his pride only moments ago. He refuses your offer to stay longer and visit, but he assures you that you’ll see him again soon. You stop him before he leaves when you realize you don’t even know his name.

My name is Lucifer, he tells you warmly. There’s an unreadable smile teasing his lips, and he offers you a murmured farewell before he disappears in a ripple of magic.

You ignore the curious voice inside your mind that wonders how long he'll make you wait before he visits again.

It’s been nearly a week since Lucifer visited your cottage and turned your world upside down. You haven’t seen him since, but you’ve made a mental note to ask him what friendship means to elvishkind. It almost seems like he completely ignored your rejection of his offer to court you.

Each morning when you wake, you find some sort of gift in your sitting room: a vase of rare wildflowers, silver jewelry fashioned similarly to the circlet he wore, a new cloak lined with soft fur that looks suspiciously like his own.

You pick up today’s gift–a heavy, leatherbound book about plants and herbs with blank pages at the end for keeping notes. You recognize some of the drawings on the pages: those plants don’t grow in the foothills, but you know they grow in abundance within Silverpine Forest where Lucifer lives, that cheeky devil.

These tokens feel too intimate for the early stages of blooming friendship, but you suspect he knows that. Is he so arrogant that he thinks your affections can be won so easily despite your initial protests?

(Or does he know that despite your protests, you enjoy all his thoughtful gifts? He’s so considerate of your interests and passions. It’s difficult not to be flattered that someone as interesting and handsome as him would be determined to impress someone like you.)

Your cottage starts to feel different as it fills with gifts the elvish prince brings you while you sleep. It’s almost like he leaves hints of his unique magic on purpose for you to find. You catch whiffs of the smoky-sweet fragrance he wears as you walk through the halls, and you can't help but think of him when you do.

Sometimes you still feel like you’re being watched, but the sensation feels friendlier somehow, rather than invasive and alarming. When you look out your window in the evenings and stare into the thicket behind your cottage, you can almost imagine the flash of blood-red eyes staring back at you.

You’ve been using the book Lucifer gave you as a type of journal. It’s become an intimate confession of your wonder and your fears and doubts. You write about regret and hope and opportunities for new beginnings. You think about friendship and the potential for more, and you wonder how it might feel to wake up in a bed warmed by someone that loves you. You haven’t wanted these sorts of things in a very long time. You’re not sure whether to thank or curse the elvish prince for filling your head with such desperately beautiful ideas.

The next morning, you wake up and find another gift: a glass jar filled with fragrant tea leaves. The unique blend smells earthy and herbal and slightly sweet. You hold the jar to your chest and glance at your journal on the writing desk. It’s open to the last page you wrote on, but you know you closed it before you went to bed last night. Realization dawns on you: Lucifer wanted you to know that he read it, and now he knows all your conflicted thoughts about him.

You boil water and make a cup of tea with the leaves he gave you. You step outside into the early morning sunlight and sip your drink thoughtfully. The familiar feeling of eyes on you returns, and you wonder why it doesn’t bother you nearly as much as it used to.

You dream of Lucifer for the first time that night. It feels like your consciousness is floating amongst soft clouds. You feel weightless and protected and cared for. You can’t see him–not at first, anyway–but you know he’s there with you. His familiar scent is so strong you can almost taste it, and you recognize the deep, teasing timber of his voice when his quiet chuckle echoes all around you. You know it’s not real, but it feels like strong arms cradle you in a warm embrace and it feels so wonderful.

Wakefulness disturbs the tranquility of the dream, and you see one last flicker of red eyes before you sit up in your bed, wide-awake and breathless. You rub your eyes and squint as the morning sunshine filters in the gap of your curtain and bathes your room in light. Something catches your attention from the corner of your eye, and you realize he left his next gift in your room this time: a deep-red rose fully in bloom and tied with a black ribbon, placed next to your pillow while you dreamt of him.

Whatever is happening between you and Lucifer continues to grow more intense as days pass. Every night when you sleep, he visits you in your dreams like he knows your resistance to him is crumbling. His dream-self doesn’t really speak to you, except for deep sighs that sound like your name when he holds you against his chest. Sometimes his fingers trail lightly up and down your arm, and you can feel his warm, damp breath fan against your nape as his nose brushes against your neck.

His presence fades away when you wake up with the morning sun, and your new gift from him waits somewhere nearby. The traces of his magic seem to linger and grow stronger each time he visits you in your room. It almost feels possessive, like he’s leaving his mark on you so you can’t possibly forget him. It’s a constant reminder of who he is and what he wants from you.

His gifts become more intimate over time, too–a box filled with rare candied nuts and creamy chocolates, a bottle of rare fruit wine, a delicately woven blanket for your bed. Today’s gift is the most extravagant yet: a black silk robe with gold and red embroidery. It’s similar in style to the royal regalia he wore when he came to your home for the first time. The underlying significance of that doesn’t escape your notice.

You set the robe aside while you dress in your normal attire and carry on with your work for the day. Time passes in a blur as you grind herbs to make potions, and you mill the discarded parts into pigment for ink. When you head to the village to deliver the finished goods, you feel his intense gaze on you from somewhere nearby; he must realize by now that the bashful smile you try to smother is meant for him.

A strange feeling of anticipation has been building inside you all day. You get ready for bed that evening and take off your clothes. It’s almost like you can’t stop yourself when you slip on the robe he gave you in place of your usual sleepwear. The significance of wearing this to bed, and only this, doesn’t escape you either.

You don’t normally think about your appearance or attractiveness, but wearing something that he made specially for you feels like a type of seduction. The robe feels so soft and sensual against your naked skin, and you realize this is what it feels like to be desirable. The robe is loose across your chest and near the gap between your legs when you lay down. The thin fabric leaves tantalizing strips of bare skin exposed in the cool night air.

When you fall asleep, you realize immediately that tonight’s dream is different. You’re laying flat on something soft, and someone’s body cages you beneath theirs. You recognize the red glint of his eyes as the shadows fade away from his face. He braces himself on one arm while the other tugs at the fastening keeping your robe closed.

Mine, he whispers. His hand pauses, waiting for permission.

Yours, you whisper back.

Once he has your consent, the restraint he’s been clinging to finally gives way to his primal instincts. He leans forward and kisses you as your robe falls open completely and you’re finally bare to him. His hands and mouth claim every inch of your body for himself. He’s gentle and slow as he explores you. The crimson eyes you once feared are molten with greedy affection for you and you alone. He makes a trail of open-mouthed kisses and small, suckled bruises across your skin.

When he's reached the edge of his control, he surges back up your body and captures your lips in another heated kiss. He slides his hand between your legs and teases the edge of your arousal. He nips gently at your skin when you bare your throat to him, and he smiles wickedly at the first soft sigh that escapes you.

He groans when you explore his chest and glide along his tapered waist until you find the hardening length grinding against your hip. His cock is hard and heavy in your hand, and he growls deep in his chest as you begin to stroke him. His fingers are relentless and you move together, stroking each other in a hot, desperate haze that threatens to consume you both.

He whispers sweet praise into your ear when you fall apart beneath him, and he gasps and moans your name when he comes too. Your hands are both stained as his release mixes with your own. The inside of your thighs are wet and sticky, and your chest heaves while you catch your breath.

He maneuvers you so he’s laying behind you. He wraps an arm possessively around your waist. It may only be a dream, but you swear you’ve never felt so good. You feel relaxed and content and your eyes slip closed.

Stay, you whisper into the strange, ethereal silence of the dreamscape. He grows still behind you for a moment, but he brushes a kiss against your bare shoulder and you know what his answer is.

Something suddenly jolts you into wakefulness. It’s still early in the morning and the sun hasn’t risen yet. You feel so warm, but you realize it’s because of a heavy weight against your back. A strong, muscular arm is draped over your waist and nimble fingers trace abstract shapes on your belly. The familiar tingle of magic and the scent of honeyed smoke surrounds you. The evidence of his desire for you still clings to your thighs, sticky and not quite dry.

“Mine?” his sleep-roughened voice rumbles behind you as he tightens his hold on your waist.

You relax deeper into his arms and smile when he nuzzles against you. “Yours.”

906 notes · View notes

imagining-in-the-margins · 1 year

Text

Insatiable Girl (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer decides to explore a particular aspect of his girlfriend’s psychology. Request: Reid notices that the reader has a bit of an oral fixation and decides he wants to study it with her a bit further. Couple: Spencer Reid/Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Spencer!POV, oral sex (male receiving), established relationship, body worship (male), fingering, oral fixation Word Count: 1.6k

MASTERLIST

There have been many theories about oral fixations. Although most only know about Freud’s thoughts on the matter, the truth is that most animals experience a period of youth where they seek out something to satisfy their need for self-soothing.

It makes sense. Our mouths are not only how we nourish ourselves, but also how we express our personality. How much of human courtship is performed with the mouth? From a smile to something more… salacious.

When I’d invited my girlfriend to move in with me, I’d already been aware of this aspect of her psychology. It would’ve been difficult to miss. But for all the pleasure it provided, it also brought with it the sweetest torture. Because her fixation persisted even when we were in public.

How many hours had I sat and watched as she worshiped something that would never be capable of appreciating her efforts? How many times had I sat and counted bubblegum bubbles or listened to the muffled clacking of mints on her teeth?

Don’t even get me started on lollipops.

But that day, as we sat in our respective spaces in the living room, she had nothing but herself to use to appease that ever-demanding compulsion. Each time that I’d looked over, I would watch as her jaw twitched while her teeth worked the supple skin of her lower lip.

My heart raced, skipping a beat each time that I watched it slip free. I could feel the slickness of her lips, the pillowy, malleable softness of her. I could taste the sweetness of the firm muscle of her tongue.

My thoughts ran wild with fantasies that I’d had a million times before. But that day, one had made its way through to the forefront.

I stood without warning, but she didn’t seem to mind. At that time, she was too engrossed in chewing idly on the tip of her thumb.

She didn’t look up until I was right in front of her. Even then, she just opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing.

Like a baby bird opening her mouth and pleading for me to provide her what she needed. Mere seconds after she’d removed her own thumb, her eyes began pleading, ‘Give me something more.’

At first, I had to say no. I had my own cruel desires that I’d needed to indulge. I wanted to watch her crumble beneath me until there was no greater satisfaction than giving me mine.

My hand cradled her jaw to stop her from chewing on her lips. Her body rocked forward, her neck craning to be even an inch closer to what she wanted most.

But I wasn’t a complete sadist. I wouldn’t leave her completely unsatisfied. The next time she opened her mouth to beg, I pressed my thumb against her bottom lip. Within seconds, she’d accepted it. At first, she was gentle. She wrapped her tongue around the digit and let out a soft breath from her nose.

Soon enough, though, her desire got the better of her. With both her hands on my hips, she pulled my entire thumb into her mouth. She audibly moaned, as if I had given her the greatest gift.

But I hadn’t. Not yet.

She knew that, too. That’s why she wasted no time unbuckling my pants, all while her mouth refused to relent.

Her mouth had been so warm, so soft. Everything about her was. It set my blood on fire in the best possible way. I listened to the melodic sound of belt buckles and buttons and indulged in the overwhelming feeling of her lips wrapped around my thumb.

I groaned when I finally felt my pants slacken around my now pressing erection. At the same time, I fought my self-preserving instinct that told me to look away. I knew it would be too much to see her, but I did it, anyway.

That insatiable, darling girl released my thumb from her mouth with a satisfying ‘pop.’ She gasped for breath, puffing hot air against wet skin as she climbed off the couch and dropped to her knees like she was preparing a prayer. She used both hands to pull my erection free and then… she waited.

There was a quiet moment— a silent blessing for what she was about to receive. She closed her eyes as she pressed a small kiss against burning skin.

I couldn’t resist her much longer. She was on her knees, but I was the one begging for salvation.

“Please,” I whispered without even thinking.

Her giggles filled the silence. It was a beautiful sound.

Her mouth was an even more beautiful feeling.

Even though it made my racing heart weak, I looked down at her through half-lidded eyes. I watched as I disappeared between her lips. Inch by inch, she accepted me into the warmth of her.

It was act of love. It was an act of worship.

But any pleasure it brought me paled in comparison to the ecstasy that slipped from the space between her lips.

Truly, she had never looked happier than when her mouth was full. She hummed so contentedly against me that I almost forgot to breathe. I was drunk on her worship, the love that she could only give on her knees.

I felt weak. I felt like a God. I felt my heart beating against her tongue as she wrapped it around my dick. She held me close, as close as she could. With struggling muscles rejecting her efforts, she persisted until she was satisfied. Yet, she was insatiable.

My eyes glazed over as I continued watching myself disappear over and over into her wanting mouth. I tried to follow the patterns of her tongue but got lost in her lustful eyes, instead.

I was bewildered and mesmerized with the way she made love with her mouth alone. I didn’t dare disturb her, although I couldn’t help but fantasize about kissing her, too. I laced my fingers through her disheveled hair and pulled the same way I would if I’d been kissing her.

She pulled away and gasped just before she closed her lips around me again. The sudden burst of cool air only heightened the warmth of her. My body bucked harder against her. Her nose was buried in soft curls at the base of me, but she showed no signs of objection.

Instead, she rid her mouth of any air. She suckled until her tongue was flat against the sensitive underside of me. She massaged the pulsing vein to the rhythm of my heartbeat. She kept going even when it seemed impossible.

My hips drove my cock further into her throat and paid no mind to the muscle’s protests. I reveled in the wetness dripping from her bottom lip.

I forced weary eyes open again to look down at the state of her. Her eyes struggled the same as the rest of her. Her hand buried beneath her underwear undoubtedly dripping the same way as her mouth.

I wanted more. She deserved more.

With one final thrust against the back of her throat, I took hold of her hair and gave her everything I had. Hot waves of pleasure pooled in her mouth and that darling girl moaned. She was sobbing against the base of me like she had been devastated to see the end of something so beautiful.

When I was finally spent, with heaving breath and a slackened grip, I pulled her off me. Even with the exhaustion, I handled her with all the care she’d deserved. But she was nothing if not fixated.

Not even a second after she’d taken a full breath, she took me in her mouth again. Gently, she cleaned overly sensitive skin to ensure that she hadn’t missed a drop.

As much as it made me ache, I couldn’t bring myself to stop her until that insatiable girl was satisfied.

She released the now softened length with an even softer tongue. My darling girl looked up at me with a beg for something more than my everything.

I wanted to give her more. She deserved more.

So, I helped her up from her spot with shaky knees. She trembled against me, and I welcomed the warmth of her body.

She was my greatest desire. I couldn’t say no to something as sweet as her slightly salty lips. She was so tired, but she didn’t fail to kiss me back. She pushed her tongue into my mouth at the same time I sneaked past the band of her underwear.

She gasped around my mouth, still seeking air without having to let go.

Her dripping heat didn’t resist my fingers. I pressed them into her effortlessly, feeling more of her from the inside.

I was so drunk on the power of pleasing her that I almost couldn’t let her go. I held my fingers down against that rough patch at the front of her walls until she was twitching. I waited for her body to squirm and her lips to break contact with mine before I started to move again.

I’d wanted to hear her whisper sweet nothings against my lips.

“Please, Spencer,” she slurred through swollen lips, “More.”

I’d be damned to tell her no.

I pulled my fingers free from tense walls and placed them gently against the swollen pearl at the crest of her dripping heat. A few gentle, lazy circles was all it took for her to fall apart in my arms.

Still, she kissed me with everything she had. I tasted myself on her tongue and imagined tasting her, too. Something more than the sweetness of her saliva.

Once I was certain she’d had enough, I removed my hand from her underwear and brought it to her lips.

Without any hesitation, she took my fingers into her mouth.

My insatiable girl, I thought, may you never have enough of this.

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

Looking for more to read? Check out my Sub!Spencer oral fic here!

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #imaginingafterdark

958 notes · View notes

billthedrake · 1 year

Text

THE VETERAN

(This is an idea I've been batting around for a while. Thanks to @maturedadsandmen for the inspiration to see it through.)

"This round's on me, Ackerman," Jim Bowers said, with a quick squeeze of my shoulder before he went to get us another round of beers. His blue eyes twinkled, and I could see the wrinkles and crows feet on his weathered, tanned face. Bowers held his liquor better than me, but he was definitely buzzed, too.

It had been a long week, but the summer MLB draft was now complete and a lot of the front office guys - and gals, too, but mostly guys - were out celebrating. Only now, some of the guys were heading off to dinner or going home. A few were in a corner trying to hit on some women at the bar. Which left me chatting with Bowers.

I don't know why Jim had decided to be buddy-buddy with me. Over the last month, the sarcastic putdown of calling me Moneyball had somehow turned into a friendly nickname, when he wasn't calling me by last name. But I leaned into it. The man was a former professional player and a legend in Royals history. He'd coached for a good decade once the boredom of retirement finally sunk in, but then the wave of analytics pushed him out the door. So now he was a special advisor to the GM and the face of the business side of the organization. Not exactly a mascot, but Jim brought in more when his gravitas and old-school knowledge of the game mattered. Which wasn't all the time, and Jim knew that.

I tried not to have the hard-drinking ways that a lot of guys in baseball do, but it was a good occasion to let loose. I was feeling good, and I'd probably get drunk by nighttime. Thank god for Uber.

It was well-earned, but the problem was my sexual thoughts were coming to me with less filter than usual. Jim was making those sexual thoughts come hard and fast. I didn't even go for older guys, at least not that much older, not older like Bowers. The man was in his late 60s, old enough to be my granddad. But there was something powerfully sexy about the man. 6'2" and still had a decently muscled build from his daily gym routine, even if yeah, Bowers was getting his granddaddy on, more by the month.

And, damnit, that day, he was going commando in his shorts. I didn't try to scope him out, I swear, but Jim Bowers had a huge package. Thick, heavy genitals that looked obscene in his khaki shorts. Maybe the man was a show-er and not a grower, but the part he was showing looked pretty damn oversized. I'd forever think of him as Big Jim now.

I wasn't some green virgin. I was 28, with one long term relationship under my belt. I'd gotten my PhD in Applied Math at Minnesota and a plum job with the Royals right off the bat. It was why I'd studied what I'd studied. It was my dream job, doing analytics for a major league baseball team. From my little league days and collecting baseball cards, through playing baseball at my prep school to too many hours spent at college playing fantasy teams... it all led up to this.

My boyfriend Tom wasn't eager to switch jobs and move, and I wasn't eager to do the long-distance thing. We talked it out and, a week before I packed up my belongings, we broke up.

Breakups suck, but the consolation prize was rediscovering the world of hookups in a new city. I'd developed a fondness for Midwestern guys, and as a somewhat nerdy Jewish dude from New England I had fun having a different blond hunk every other weekend. I even hooked up with some older guys. I preferred guys my age but responded to a guy's personality and a shared sexual vibe over looks. And sometimes a daddy fit the bill.... Different looks, different body types and different sexual energy. It was all great.

But for me, Daddy meant like 40. Jim Bowers was rearranging my self-identified age range. Or maybe it was the beer.

"Here ya go," he said as he sauntered back with two beers in hand. Goddamn, the veteran looked FINE. I mean, no one would mistake his body for a 40 year old's or even a 50 year olds. It was mature muscle, but fit. Platelike pecs beneath the man's team-logo polo shirt, and pumped arms stretching the tanned, almost leathery skin that was covered in gray hair, matching the thicker silvery fur on his legs.

And, damn, that package: I could make out the contours of Jim Bowers' junk. There had been rumors of his heyday with the groupies. For all I knew he still had 'em, though maybe not like the current players.

We clinked glasses and the man looked me in the eye and said, "Now that the draft is done, you gonna stop being a workaholic, Moneyball?" he teased. "Maybe you can finally get a goddamn boyfriend."

Everyone in the front office knew I was gay and that was never an issue, but I also didn't make it an issue. No talk about my private life, no mention of the gay thing unless it was brought up. I was the epitome of professional, and when it came to happy hour drinks, well, I'd learned straight-dude male bonding as a way of blending in years ago.

"Come on, Jim," I said. And he knew exactly why.

"I know you got your work self and keep the rest private, buddy..." he said. "But, man, you're not as different as you think sometimes."

I don't know that I resented his words, but they rubbed me the wrong way. How was Bowers to know what I dealt with? Maybe if I hadn't been perving on the guy, I would have been more bothered.

"How so?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Take Campbell," he said, referring to Mitch Campbell, who was one of the scouts. "Good looking guy. Goes on dates all the time, but can't think of a goddamn thing to talk about to girls except baseball." Jim gave a smirk. "Girl doesn't call back, and Campbell's back to Square One."

At another moment, Bowers talk would be too old-school I-told-you-so in its condescension. Now, I was amused as hell. "You got Mitch all figured out, huh?" I teased.

Jim's blue eyes lit up some. "Tell me I'm wrong, Moneyball."

I smiled. "You're probably right," I conceded. Then, feeling my guard let down, I added, "You know, with gay guys, they like the idea of a baseball dude, but it's more the fantasy than the reality, you know?" I blushed as I spoke, but something about the drunken happy hour moment was removing my filter. "Maybe if I were a player, they'd be into the jock thing."

Bowers laughed and gave a smirk. He'd been the recipient of jock worship, even if it was from women. "You're just like Campbell, Moneyball... deep down." He patted my back. "But you're a good looking dude, and a good kid... any man would be lucky to land ya, buddy."

I ate up the words but had to reply, "Not the pep talking I was expecting tonight, Jim."

He reflected a second. "Yeah, I guess I dish out the advice easier than I can take it." Bowers had married three times and was now divorced and, as far as I knew, single.

Our conversation shifted subjects, but we got caught up in talking. I ate up his stories from his pro days, and Jim asked me about the math stuff I did. Maybe the man was right, I wasn't good at talking about much other than baseball, but he was a lifer and his whole life was the game, too.

I emptied my pint glass and had to do a mental calculation if I was gonna have another. I was on the fence. I should go home, but if Jim was having another, I knew I would too.

Instead he gave me a questioning look. "Feel like coming back to my place, Ackerman?" he asked. "We can have another one there."

The last part felt like it was added on to save face. In case I wasn't on the same wavelength. Maybe I'd been dumb in not reading the signals. Maybe I was misreading them now. But that was my first inkling that Jim Bowers was making a pass at me.

I blushed as I replied. "Sounds good, Jim," I said. "But neither one of us is driving."

"Yeah," he admitted. He was buzzed all right. He patted my shoulder. Kind of paternal but with a definite look of sexual interest in his gaze. Damn, this was not what I'd been expecting. He broke that look as he pulled out his phone to get an uber.

The guys had all gone by then and we stepped outside to wait for the car, it was getting dark out. We'd been in there a while.

"Damn, I'm starving," Jim said. "Maybe I can order us a pizza."

"Sure," I said. Hands in my pockets out of nervousness more than anything. This was probably a really bad idea, but I felt crazy attracted to Bowers, more than I'd let myself admit before tonight. This was playing out so different than a gay hookup, so I was feeling out the dynamic. But his touch between my shoulder blades as he guided me first toward the car... that touch alone was enough to make me chub.

Jim's place was big, too big for a bachelor. But it felt surprisingly homey.

"Let me get us some waters," he said. I wasn't overly drunk but he was right, it was good to drink something besides beer.

I chugged down a few sips from the plastic bottle and looked at Jim. "Nice place," I said.

"Thanks," Bowers said. Then with a soft voice, he added, "Damn, you're really fucking cute, Dave." He set down his bottle and stepped up to me.

I hadn't expected Bowers to be into dudes, at all, and I definitely didn't expect him to kiss. But he had no hesitation pulling me into a soft, wet kiss. It was a little drunken, but it was the surprise sexual attraction that made my head light. Fit as he may be, Jim was a mature guy, and I knew I was kissing a 60-something man, a man nearing 70. It was a strange thrill.

"You're into this, right?" the man hissed as he pulled back, giving me an up close view of his handsome features: roman nose, round cheeks, and gray hair growing more silver by the year, cut in a medium-short style. His hairline receded just a little but remarkably he still had a full head of hair. "I'm not looking for any HR issues," he chuckled.

"Oh I'm into it," I answered. "I guess it's just between us, right?" I was asking for his assurance as much as I was giving him mine.

"Absolutely," he said. His eyes were on me but his arm was reaching down. In my peripheral vision I could tell he was unzipping. And pulling out his dick. His grin cocked. "I'm really horny, man," he said.

I looked down. There it was, that pro-veteran baller cock. Heavy was an understatement. Jim Bowers packed a very thick, powerful 8 inch tool that jutted out of his open crotch. It was big and spongy and rock hard all at once. I wondered if he took a pill for his erections. I didn't fucking care. Bowers had an amazing cock.

I gave him one last look, a playful, sexy look, then crouched in front of him. I reached out and touched that meat, holding it. It had a soft give to the erection, but also twitched in my hand. It was my first mature cock, and I decided I liked it. Jim was hot to the touch as I angled his erection down to my lips.

"Oh yeah, buddy..." he hissed. "Lick my cock... like that."

The more I ran my tongue up and down his shaft, the bigger and heavier it felt. He tasted salty but then as I bathed his dick the flavor was cleaner. I finally figured I'd given enough foreplay and pulled that dong between my open lips.

He had enough girth to challenge me. I liked sucking dick, but I wasn't an expert at it. I guess lately I'd gotten more into anal and more into topping in my hookups. Even if I still went down on a guy, as foreplay or the main event, Bowers was bigger than I'd encountered.

But it was like riding a bike, I suppose. My initial difficulties gave way to a steady bobbing on his fat rod, feeling a good four or five inches push the confines of my throat with each motion of my mouth. It was a surprisingly pleasant feeling.

Nothing compared to the pleasure Jim was feeling. "Oh God... hell yes... work my fucking cock, man.... like that, yeah.... "

As I bobbed up and down I could see the silvery hair in his crotch, just a few darker hairs among them. And my hands felt up his mature legs, still strong, and now very furry. I was sucking a 68, maybe 69 year old and I realized I fuckin' loved this.

I always figured old guys took a long time to cum. Jim wasn't a quick cummer, but after about three minutes of giving him head I sensed the telltale signs. The urgency in his voice, the quiver in his quad muscle.

"FUCK! Here comes my fucking load, bud," he announced.

That heavy fat mature dong jerked in my throat as Bowers fed me his seed. I did my best to keep working him through that ejaculation, accentuating his orgasm with my mouth and suction.

He finally pushed my off with a friendly laugh. "Easy there, man... I think you got it all."

I looked up, knowing I felt proud. More than I'd been with my hookups. If I was honest, happier in sex than I'd been with my ex Tom. "Fuck, that was hot," I hissed.

Jim nodded. Face flushed red, his gray hair looked whiter. He somehow looked younger and older at the same time.

"Give me a second and I'll take care of you," he announced.

Not what I was expecting but I wasn't going to turn down the offer. I stood up, feeling drunk and light headed from the BJ. I started undoing my shorts and pulling them and my briefs off.

Jim grinned and reached down to grip my boner. "You 27 year olds are always rock hard," he teased, pulling my dick down to let it thwap up at the release.

"28," I corrected. "And how many have there been?" I laughed.

"Enough," he grinned. He gave my meat another look then said, "All right." And like that, the former baseball star, a man whose card I'd collected as a kid, was now getting down to suck me off.

If it hadn't been for the alcohol, I would have blasted in 20 seconds. Instead, now, I enjoyed getting head from Bowers. The slow suckling, the gentle bobs, the vision of his mature muscled bod in front of me. I ran my hands through his silvery hair.

Grandaddy was gonna work for my load, all right, and that idea was enough to get me to cum.

"Jim!" I gasped, surprised at how quickly orgasm snuck up on me and wanting to warn him.

He was a trooper, readying himself or my cum and then steadily sucking it down as I shot good and heavy into his mouth.

"Like I say," he teased when he finally pulled off. "You fucking need a boyfriend, Moneyball." He gave my leg a gentle pat then stood up. Reaching over he picked up his water bottle. To rehydrate or to wash down the flavor of cum, I wasn't sure.

Sheepishly, I pulled my underwear and shorts back on. Crossing some boundaries with Bowers had been naughty fun and all, but this part felt awkward. I started imagining what life was going to be like in the clubhouse from now on.

But Bowers stood in front of me, unabashed being naked from the waist down. His pJim hung fat and heavy, past his low-hanger balls covered in silver hair. He was definitely a show-er, even if his hard on had measured big.

"The offer for pizza still stands, Ackerman," he said, his blue eyes now normal friendly rather than lusty in their gaze. "If you wanna stay."

"You sure?" I asked.

Jim shrugged. "I'm not gonna be offended if you dash off," he said. "I've done it plenty, you know."

"It's not that," I started to say. Then, "Well, maybe it is.... but if you're OK, I could definitely eat."

That made Jim chuckle. "All right. You a peperoni man?"

****

The drunkenness was wearing off as we scarfed down the pizza. As I worked on the last slice, Jim came in with a freshly opened beer can for me, and one for him.

"I promised you a drink," he said.

"I figured that was just a pick up line," I replied. Something about sex made me feel I could be familiar with the man.

"Oh, it absolutely was," he said. "I'm not the most original guy in my lines."

I looked at his body. Relaxed on the couch. I calculated how his current body compared to a couple decades ago. I liked what Bowers had going on now, the contrast of hard and soft, muscled and aging. "You don't need killer lines when you have a killer bod," I said, flirting some.

Jim laughed but seemed into what I was saying. "You think I have a killer bod, Moneyball?"

I nodded. "Definitely." I looked at him openly. I wasn't gonna bone for round too but I was still feeling sexual. "That bug you?"

"Not at all," he said. He took a sip of beer and seemed to be looking me over, too. "You into older guys?"

"Not really," I answered. "At least not before you." I blushed as I admitted that. "Let's just say you're expanding my horizons, Jim."

He seemed to take that in. "You know, I haven't seen all your goods, Ackerman... feel like showing off a little for me?"

"You wanna see my body?" I confirmed.

"Yeah, I wanna see your fucking body," he said, leaning back into the couch cushion and spreading his legs.

I set down my beer and stood up. I peeled off my T-shirt, then undid my shorts. I spent a lot of time in the gym and had a pretty good body. By most standards it would be considered a great body, but being around professional players, I seemed more ordinary in comparison.

"Nice," Jim said. Genuinely into what I had going on. "Not just a pretty face, huh?"

I blushed. "I try, Jim."

"You do more than try... turn around," he instructed. He took in the view of my backside and my ass, before I turned back to face hi.

"Sorry, I'm getting a little chubbed." My dick was rising up and fast.

"That's hot," he said. With a concerted look he peeled off his polo shirt. I practically gasped when I saw that white-furred muscle. It was magnificent and everything I imagined Jim Bowers would be bare chested. Still had a lot of that ball-player power to him.

"Wow," I gasped. My dick was standing full up at the sight. "OK... I definitely have a thing for older men," I said. Then, "I hope you don't mind my saying that, Jim."

He gave a soft smile. "I don't mind, Dave." He leaned back and showed off his upper body some, inviting my gaze before he reached down to undo his shorts once more. They slipped off easily. I noticed that his legs were strong and sinewed but he had more muscle loss there than his upper bod.

His prick was fully and semi-firm but not throwing hard. "Think I can feel up some of that 28-year-old muscle?" he asked. Scooting down, he lay on the couch, face up and bared in his magnificent nakedness.

I took the invitation and went back to the couch to lie on top of this former star. I still had to pinch myself this was happening. The sex, but the whole evening. We both groaned as I made body contact, my hands on his chest and his on mine, while our cocks touched.

"So, Jim..." I started. "I don't wanna kill the vibe, but what's your deal?"

His hand traveled along my upper chest and over my arms. "I guess I reached a certain age and decided to stop having hang ups. Sex with guys is just easier these days."

"Yeah?" I asked.

He nodded. "A young guy... you can fool around with and he doesn't expect anything, you know?" I could feel his dick move against mine and instinctively I knew our heartbeats were synching up. "I'm not gonna lead you on, Ackerman.... not looking to date or anything, you know?"

"No offense, Jim," I said. "But I probably should stick to guys closer my own age to date."

"Probably, yeah," he laughed. His hands were now openly feeling up my back muscle as I lay on top of him. He was taller than me by two inches and had some more weight to him. It felt comforting and relaxed being naked in this position. Sexual but not we-gotta-fuck-now sexual. "If you ever feel like having fun with an old man, though..." he started.

"I definitely do," I answered. "I didn't think I'd be into this, actually," I blushed.

"Be into what?" he asked.

"The age gap," I said.

He got an impish look on his face. "You into the Granddaddies, huh?"

Fuck, I hissed. It was such a naughty thing, but it made my dick jerk, which made Jim laugh.

He patted my bare ass. "Listen, bud. I'm 69. I'm not gonna be able to get it on twice in one night. But if you feel like staying over..."

"Yeah, I'd like that," I said.

He kissed, softly. And soon we were making out. Feeling each other up. I could have gone for a round two for sure, but I didn't need to. And that made this all the better, just connecting nude body to nude body with Jim's mature veteran-baller build.

By the time we got up off the couch, I was dripping precum heavily on that swirl of silvery hair on Jim's stomach. I was rock hard as I helped him up and helped him tidy up everything and take plates and cans back to the kitchen. Eventually my erection flagged but Jim didn't make a move to put clothes back on, so I didn't either.

I was starting to second guess myself. This was a man I'd see around work. Maybe this was gonna get complicated, real fast, even if we weren't looking for anything serious.

He had a spare toothbrush for me and set out some towels if I wanted to use them. I looked in myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed. I often went back and forth in my self esteem, feeling cocky about my looks, then feeling all sorts of self doubt about my body and how I compared to whatever perfect guy I imagined or lusted after. But I saw myself in Jim's eyes. Maybe he went for me because I was an out gay guy, maybe an easy target. Maybe he liked that I had that nerdy but fit thing going on. Whatever it was, I was glad I'd spent the last couple of years hitting the weights and eating well.

He was already under the covers when I joined him in the king sized bed.

"Thanks for a fun evening, Ackerman," he said, his voice now sleepy. It was later than I realized.

"God, Jim, it's been wild."

"I don't normally have guys sleep over," he said. Maybe wanting me not to get any ideas.

"I don't always sleep over when they ask," I said.

He smirked. "All right, bud... ready for some sleep?"

"Yeah," I said.

And I watched his thick muscle bunch as he leaned over to turn off the light.

"Hey buddy," Jim Bowers said as he ushered me inside. I didn't always come over to his place. Sometimes the legendary veteran would swing by my condo for some no-strings fun before work, or after playing golf. I'd enjoying giving him a nice BJ - it was kind of my big challenge and thrill, getting used the girth and length of Big Jim's meat and getting off on our age gap. The latter was just as thrilling when Jim would have me kick back for his turn at reciprocating.

We even snuck in a BJ in a parking lot once, but while the risk felt fun, it was, well, risky.

I'd worried this would mess up things at work. Bowers wasn't my boss, but he held a senior position in the front office org chart, an advisor to my big boss. Yet the man was completely normal after our first hook up. It relaxed me for when he hit me up for a second time. Then another.

Sometimes it felt like a booty call, sometimes we grabbed a bite and a beer after sex. It was all good.

But today was different. Big Jim said he wanted to fuck me.

He was looking incredible now, shirtless and showing off that mature muscle, dusted with silver hair.

"Hey Jim," I said, stepping in. We met for a quick kiss, which became not a quick one. I could tell the ex-pro was really worked up today, and despite my nervousness, I was, too. We laughed a little at how horny we were when I finally broke the connection and stepped back.

"You look amazing," I said.

He flexed a little. Best of all, I could see that heavy dick in his mesh shorts. Not hanging either but boned up into a hard ridge. The man was in heat.

"How much you work out?" I asked. It had been on my mind for a while. For a man his age, Bowers was very well preserved.

Big Jim didn't miss a beat. "A hell of a lot, Moneyball," he said with a smirk. He cocked his head back toward his bedroom. "Feel like getting down to it? Or you want a drink or something?"

My heart fluttered a little bit. "I'm horny as fuck," I replied. "But I won't lie: I'm a little scared."

"Scared? Why?" Jim asked. I realized he was sincere in his question. Like it hadn't occurred to him.

"For starters, I don't bottom much," I said, then nodded down to his crotch. "And then there's that beast you got between your legs."

That made Bowers smile. I probably wasn't the first to compliment his endowment and wouldn't be the last. But the ego boost was appreciated. "You seem to like it."

"Hell yeah I like," I said. "I love it," I added in admission. "But that's a lot of dick to take."

He chuckled, stepping up to me, and running his fingers along my cheek. "You're overthinking it, Ackerman. Let's just enjoy this."

Easy for him to say, I thought. But something about him was charming me. The weathered face, the sea blue eyes, the craggly voice. I was gonna go with it. "All right, lead the way," I hissed.

I peeled off my T-shirt and shorts as I stepped into his bedroom. I'd learned to go commando for these hookups and as I freed my meat, my dick firmed up quickly as Jim pulled down the sheets and then slid down his shorts.

I saw one reason for that massive hardon. Bowers had a cock ring on, which made that dick firmer than normal. He saw where I was looking. "Hope you don't mind the ring, bud. Just gives a little more insurance at my age."

I crawled on the bed and showed how little I minded it. Scooting forward, I let Big Jim guide that hard meat to my mouth.

"Yes...." he grunted as I sucked in a few inches, then choked down another. I was getting better at this. My face blushed as I sucked, my bare ass up for Jim's gaze. I wasn't used for being so bottomy, so open in servicing with a guy, but it was a fun new mode. Particularly as I smelled Bowers' clean soapy scent and could see the silvery crotch hair in front of me.

He put his hands on his hips and let me do the work. The man loved a BJ. I mean, who doesn't? But Jim seemed to really crave oral sex. I half thought he'd change his mind today and let me get him off with my mouth. I'd cleaned myself out and prepped for anal, but a part of me wouldn't have been upset with a change of plans.

But I felt his hand on my head, nudging me back.

"Lie back," he urged.

I scrambled back, letting Big Jim see my naked body. The man got off on my youth, on the fact he had a 20-something stud in his bed. He'd told me as much, but his eyes confirmed it now as he stood next to the bed and pumped some lube into his hand, fisting that rock hard granddaddy meat.

"I hope to god you don't think you're just gonna ram that thing up me," I said in a nervous joking tone.

He grinned and shook his head. "Relax, Ackerman, I know what I'm doing." He got on the bed, his core contracting as he shifted his weight forward. Our lips met for a second and I took a moment to feel up that mature brawn. It was still a head fuck that I was having sex with THE Jim Bowers. Even if he wasn't quite my main childhood idle or on my favorite team growing up, I used to watch watch him play all the time, and it felt like I was in the presence of a legend.

He leaned up and I took in that view of Bowers's strong shoulder muscle and thick arms. He gave a couple of soft kisses along my abs as he scooted down. "Lift 'em up, buddy," he urged.

I was nervous but I wanted this, I decided. It had been a solid year since I'd bottomed, but I was getting in the mood now. As I pulled back my legs, Big Jim was gonna get me all the way there. He leaned in and I felt his breath and his five o clock stubble before his tongue darted out to lick me.

Here was a man of surprises, all right. Jim Bowers was really into eating ass. It tickled at first, and I fought to keep the tickling sensation from overwhelming me. It was just my body's defensiveness. It was half mental, but also the unfamiliarity of having my ass stimulated. But Jim's tongue pressed deeper in, and the feeling changed. Rawer, more overtly sexual.

"God," I grunted. It was a mind fuck, too, looking down at this older man, almost 70, going to town on my hole. And me letting him.

He took his time but I could tell he was horny now. After a minute or so he leaned up and let out a soft growl of approval. "Hot hole, Dave," he said, timing the pressing of his first finger perfectly. It was lubed, and I enjoyed the thickness of his digit entering me. He dug around some, worming my sphincter open more before diving in for another rim job.

"You got nice and clean for me, buddy," he said with approval.

"Yeah," I replied, holding my legs back and letting him prepare me. Alternating rimming with more fingering. Pretty soon he was focused on the latter, two then three then two then three fingers, drizzling more lube at the connecting spot.

He looked down at me, horny. Maybe that cock was viagra-ed up or maybe the cock ring was doing all the work. But it was steel rigid.

He pulled his hand back and lined up that heavy, hard meat. "You got this, man..." was all he said, before I felt that dull stinging of his penetration.

"Fuck!" I cried. Not in pain but more in fear.

He held steady, an inch of that fat dick wedged in my ring. "You're tight as hell," he observed. "Just relax, Ackerman."

"I'm trying!" I laughed.

Jim smiled. God he was so handsome and sexy. I didn't think I'd ever be into a guy pushing 70, but at that moment I knew I really was. He pulled back and fisted that big meat. I felt bad I was extra work to get in. But he leaned in and kissed me some. Sensual, tongue-heavy kissing while his fingers went back down to work my hole again.

I was ready this time. He broke the kiss but didn't pull back entirely. Deftly he placed that dong at my hole and applied just the right amount of force. And like that I had three solid inches of Jim Bowers' fatness in me.

I clenched my teeth and gripped his biceps in automatic response.

His eyes challenged mine. "You got this," he assured me. More confident than I was. More pressure was pushing that very wet, very lubed phallus into me. I was tight but also enjoying that stretching feeling. Maybe because Big Jim was going slow.

He nodded at me, his face now serious, not very sexual and horny. "You feel SO fucking good on my dick buddy," he growled in a low voice. That gravely Bowers voice. "You gonna make your Granddad feel good?"

We'd tossed back the granddaddy term. For me it was an extension of "daddy" - a daddy with a few extra years. Mature like Jim. But now that term hit me in a pervy place. My bowels unclenched and welcomed all of that magnificent cock into me.

"Yeah you are," Big Jim hissed.

"God, Granddad..." I moaned, hesitant at first, trying it out.

"I got ya, boy," he said, more aloud as he began his first thrust. Not hard, but a real fuck thrust into me. With Jim's size, it felt like a lot and was rapidly rearranging my previous assumptions - of being mostly top, of not being into grandpas.

His hips swiveled slowly as I held his muscular body and welcomed him into me. I felt like we weren't just having sex. We were mating. I was being owned from the inside out. I didn't normally feel whorish with a guy, but Big Jim was pushing some button deep inside me. Physically and psychologically.

"Fuck me, Jim!" I said, more assertively now. "Fuck me, Granddad."

His lips curled up and he threw more force into his thrusts. I was ready for it now. Unbelievably I was enjoying this. It was intense as hell, like it could become uncomfortable at any moment, but my ass felt alive, and I felt alive beneath this man, who was fucking for his pleasure. The lube on his cock kept my guts from clenching down too hard on his pistoning shaft, or when I did they didn't have anything to grip onto. The man was fucking me unimpeded.

I looked into his wrinkled, weathered, handsome face. Imagining how many groupies he'd nailed over the years. How easy it must have been for him to get laid in his prime. How easy it was for him now.

I didn't think a hands-free cum was a possibility for me. Maybe technically it wasn't since Big Jim's soft belly fur and belly were rubbing against my rigid cock. But I started cumming hard.

"Jim!" I exclaimed, feeling that immense pleasure rising up from deep within me.

That excited him all right. He fucked me and fucked me hard. Fast even, eager to maximize the sensations on his mature cock. "Right behind ya, kid," he grunted.

The idea he was gonna nut in me thrilled me and made another shot of cum push out of my cock.

I love watching men cum and seeing Big Jim in full orgasm was incredible. His older muscle tensing up and his voice sounding older as he cried out. Then him relaxing in tired stillness on top of me for a second before he moved his head to give me a soft kiss and pushed up to relieve the brunt of his bulk on top of me.

I felt that thickness retreat and plop out of me. I felt slutty and maybe not in a good way as Big Jim's cum ran out of my used hole. But in every other way I felt happy and satisfied. Especially seing the smile on the man's face as he rolled off and lay next to me, nudging my chin playfully.

"You were a trooper, Moneyball," he said finally.

"I don't know if I should have enjoyed that so much," I admitted.

"Why the hell not?" Big Jim challenged me.

"Long answer or short answer?" I replied.

"Let's start with the short."

"Maybe I'm a little kinkier than I realized."

Jim shrugged and leaned up, sitting back against one of the pillows. "Nothing wrong with that, fella."

I copied his move, but not before shaking out the cramps from my legs. My ass hole felt loose and wet but the new sitting position made it less exposed. "So the Granddad thing..." I didn't even know what I wanted to ask, but I knew I had to check in with Jim.

He chuckled. "Seems to get you going, buddy. It's a little weird, I guess," he added. "I mean, I have grandkids and all. But I figure this is something different altogether."

"It is," I assured him. I looked down at my body. Dick well sated, cum smeared on my belly and chest. "I'm a fricking mess."

Jim agreed. "Let's get you cleaned up, Moneyball." He slid out of bed and extended his hand to help me up. At that moment, despite being much younger I felt weaker from the sexual exhaustion. "If you have evening plans, that's cool, but I feel like I owe you a nice dinner for putting out like that."

I enjoyed this camaraderie and enjoyed the shower we shared together. A chance to soap up his mature body. A part of me worried if I should be seen in public extensively with Bowers, alone with him, but we did work together and I'm sure could come up with a reason if anyone saw us.

Then as Jim soaped me up from behind and pulled me into his sudsy wet body, that fat dong there, the one that had given me what felt like a second deflowering... I realized Big Jim was right. I was overthinking it.

#drakestories

287 notes · View notes

revasserium · 1 year

Text

we carve up the world all the time

dazai; 795 words; domestic fluff, g!n reader but implied that they wear heels, tw for normal dazai things but i promise it's mostly played for comedic effect

a list of things that could be used as weapons around an average household, but neither you nor dazai want to talk about it:

the knife in the kitchen that neither of you ever use, the handle made of good, solid wood, the blade sharpened to a gleaming, moon-bright edge; occasionally, your hand will skim over it’s stained ironwood and pause, something thrumming like possibility beneath your skin. but then dazai wraps his arm around your middle, hooks his chin over your shoulder and asks when dinner will be ready; your hand skims over the handle and it settles on another knife, a smaller knife, a duller knife. you smile and tell him soon.

the memory foam pillows dazai had brought home one evening, hollering about the 50% off sale at the market across the street, even though you’d told him that morning that you guys didn’t need anything else, but he pouts and whines and sighs and throws himself onto the vintage chaise lounge (snagged at a yard sale, you know), all drama and sensitivity till you’d conceded that they were really nice pillows and your neck had been hurting a bit more than usual

the curtains — they’ve got such nice, long, tassels.

the curtains — they’ve got such nice, thick, blackout backs that coincidentally make them impossible to breathe through.

the pair of antique book ends that kunikida had gifted the pair of you the week you’d moved in, made of solid bronze, and carved into owls with their huge, dessert-plate eyes and their tiny, hooked beaks. dazai had alternated between loving them and hating them, but finally, he’d settled on saying that at least, if nothing else, they’d function as a good, matched pair of weights for a drowning attempt

the belt to dazai’s coat

the bottle of bleach sitting under the kitchen sink

your favorite pair of stiletto heels, with points sharp enough to pierce through a man’s heart; though dazai insists that you’d never need a pair of heels to pierces his — it was already yours to begin with

the handguns in the bedside table

the handguns hidden under the sofa

the handguns in the cupboards

the handguns in the bookshelf’s secret compartments

your favorite set of beige linen sheets, the material just soft enough to be breathable, but strong enough to last — they’d regrettably not been on sale, but even dazai had to agree that it was a worthy way to spend some cash. once, with the curtains thrown open and the moonlight spilling in great silver reams across the bedroom floors, dazai had pressed a hand to your cheek and told you that you’d make a beautiful corpse, to which you’d rolled your eyes and curled in closer and told him that if he got blood on the sheets, you’d make sure his own death was slow and most certainly painful

the whiskey rocks in the freezer, which, if thrown hard enough and fast enough, would be so much more deadly than bullets, but why waste perfectly good whiskey rocks when there’s still half a bottle of whiskey left?

your hands, with their soft, soft palms and their long, thin fingers; dazai spends too long thinking about your hands and the variety of different ways you might use them, and use them, and use them

his hands, with their neatly trimmed nails and bandaged wrists and the endless trail of blood that had long-since seeped it’s way beneath his skin, staining him till he’d believed salvation was a mere, distant fantasy. but then he’d met you and somehow, through some impossible, divine, dark magic, you’d made it all just a bit more worthwhile — still, he can’t deny the weapons that are his hands, his touch that negates so much else, but seems to only draw out the best in you. once, he’d dreamt that all your love had been nothing but an ability, and that as soon as he touched you, the spell might shatter, and you’d leave him, just like so many people had left him before, and as he had left so many other people. but then he woke up to find you sleeping next to him, your breath measured as the ticking metronome of the earth, as the certain passing of days and years, certain as the sunlight threatening to pour through the sliver of open curtain — and he dared to reach out and touch you, to trail a finger along your cheek, to watch your eyelids flutter open like a pair of moth wings to his hidden fire. and, you smiled, leaned in, and kissed him instead.

197 notes · View notes

earthry · 1 year

Text

Serving Papas (Butler AU Headcanons)

Self indulgent AU where you are nobility and the Papas are butlers who live and breathe to serve and love you.

tw: mostly sfw, a little spicy in some parts, butler and master/mistress relationship dynamic, fluff, jealousy.

Primo

Primo has a lot of experience under his belt and he knows what he’s doing. From running the estate to organizing your personal affairs, he excels at any task you set forth. Unfortunately for you, he's professional to a fault so you have to work hard to tempt him.

You call on him to make a drink and deliver it to you while you're still bathing, making sure to leisurely lounge in the tub as he sets the drink down on a nearby stand. Though you catch his eyes traveling down the curve of your body with appreciation, he doesn’t say anything and swiftly leaves when his task is done.

At every turn and every trick you have up your sleeve he seems to resist with no effort at all. To you, he’s completely unaffected and you almost give up a few times. However, you are persistent.

What you don’t know is that he relishes every little thing you do, every inch of skin you show, every soft sultry tone you try with him— he dreams about, he fantasies. Still he thinks it’s unprofessional of him to pursue you and besides the gap in social classes is just too wide. You’re a wealthy heir/heiress and he is merely one of many servants under your family’s employment. It would be unrealistic of him to become infatuated with you (although he already is, whether he realizes it or not).

His last straw comes when you are perched at your vanity one evening in lingerie and ask him for his 'professional opinion'. At first he's very clinical, telling you that you look gorgeous or handsome as always (though what he really wants to say is that you look ravishing), bowing his head in respect as usual. Then you ask him if he thinks [insert name of one of many suitors] would like it and you pretend to admire yourself in your mirror, brushing your hand against the lace.

It's jealousy that finally pushes Primo to succumb to his desires; hearing you talk about bedding another man who obviously wouldn’t be able to please you. It only takes a few more remarks before he has you pinned to your bed, growling about how you're a minx or a tease and how [suitor] could never appreciate your body like he can. And oh boy does he prove it.

Primo is an intelligent man, so he's very aware of your ploy that he’d fallen right into. He may grumble about it, however, he's not giving you up now that he's had a taste. You've ensnared him so you must take responsibility (which you gladly do).

Secondo

Estate and event planning are Secondo’s forte but once he’s set his eyes on you, he gets very familiar with your personal affairs— prioritizing your health, safety, and comfort above all else.

He’s indifferent when you first meet, not caring to make small talk or socialize. He thinks you’ll be just like every other noble he’s served, despising their attitudes, their selfishness and behaviors to those less fortunate, and how confident and arrogant they are about themselves.

You, however, are different in so many ways— in your kindness and patience, in your willingness to listen and help others, in the respect you treat to everyone around you regardless of class or occupation. Secondo begins to see this and as time passes he falls more and more in love with you.

Puts your happiness above his own. If you fell in love with someone else and never wanted to see him again, he would let you go. But if you fell in love with him and wanted him? Oh, how he would treasure you. How he would worship you, how he would do anything in his power to keep you safe and happy.

Gets jealous of suitors easily but is also pacified quickly when you rest your hand on his arm and reassure him that he is the only one you want. He's like a big scary guard dog that growls but the second you touch him, he's so tame and good for you.

If you're someone very frisky and flirty, he will play into it. He can be dominant and isn’t afraid to grab you by the waist and push you against the wall, latching his lips to your neck and nipping the sensitive skin to bruise.

If you're more shy and anxious however, he would be so so gentle. He would shield you away from prying eyes, would never do anything in public if it made you uncomfortable. He would never judge you. He would take you slowly in the safety of your bedroom, spread you against soft sheets like you were glass.

Terzo

Terzo is just as brilliant of a butler as his brothers are, but with his own flair. He completes each task given to him with flamboyancy and flourish and brings a lot of life and personality into the estate.

The first time you meet, he takes your hand and places a gentle kiss to the back of it, declaring that his life is now yours, and ‘you’ll take very good care of me, si?’.

You learn very early that he’ll do just about anything to see that pretty little blush on your cheeks, to see you flustered and pink. It’s addictive to him. Sometimes you try to get back at him but it never works, he’s never phased and always seems to be able to turn it back on you.

You do end up flustering him however, but not in a way you expected. The first time he sees you ready for a ball and in your favorite dress or suit, he’s stunned. The way you light up when you admire yourself in the mirror, the way your outfit looks on you. The way you animatedly talk about how excited you are and how the first thing you’re going to do when you get there is stuff yourself with good food. He’s so distracted in how beautiful you are that you have to ask him more than twice to pass a hair brush.

Terzo’s a little different after that— still flirty but it’s almost softer. It doesn’t feel as deliberate or superficial as before, this feels genuine. He sticks around more and does little thoughtful things for you. Bringing you a tray of your favorite snacks when you’re working, brewing tea for you right before bed.

You find yourself growing fonder and fonder of him until one night when he brings you your tea, you catch him by the sleeve before he can leave. He looks surprised, but his expression softens as he asks if you need something. You tell him to stay, and he does. At first he sits and tells you stories until you fall asleep but several weeks later it evolves to him holding you close and you resting your head against his shoulder as he softly hums Italian lullabies until you drift off. He’ll kiss your forehead and stay with you until morning, making sure to also get rest of his own and he finds that he sleeps much easier with you in his arms.

Copia

Copia lacks a lot of confidence and experience, but he sure knows what he’s doing. He’s a hard worker and it shows. Depending on what tasks you give him, he will teach himself everything he needs to know in order to complete it.

Falling in love with Copia is easy and inevitable. Though he can be very awkward, you find him charming in the gentle ways he treats those around him. You’ve caught him in the kitchens feeding the rats before and he nearly had a heart attack until you reassured him that you didn’t mind. He’s a sensitive man, one who has a soft spot for all his favorite things, who can’t resist a good plate of rigatoni even if it’d save his life.

Flustering Copia becomes your favorite pastime, watching his cheeks heat up as he stutters out what you lovingly dub his little ‘Copia noises’.

The two of you are kind of hopeless though, because you’re worried he won’t like you the same and he’s worried that you won’t like him the same and it takes forever for the two of you to finally confess your feelings to each other. It drives the other staff nuts (they’re all rooting for the two of you though).

Copia is the first one to confess, panicking when he hears about you accepting a date from one of your suitors. It’s a invitation to a picnic by the lake side and he nearly busts a blood vessel when he stammers that you shouldn’t go.

You ask him why not and he blurts out that he knows a better picnic spot and he knows how to make all your favorite food to bring. Both your cheeks are pink— him from mortification of what he just said, and you from feeling flustered by him for the first time in exchange. He’s apologizing profusely when you take his hands in his and ask him if he’s asking you on a date and your eyes are so sparkly that he can’t find it in himself to lie no matter how embarrassed he feels.

The picnic is perfect even though it rains and the two of you have to gather everything into your arms and book it back indoors. You end up eating the rest of the picnic huddled by the fireplace to dry and it’s still a very intimate setting.

You laugh because Copia slicks his hair up into a mohawk while it’s still wet and it ends up drying sticking up all over the place. You love this silly man.

As the fireplace begins to die down, the last of it’s final moments flickering to coals, you share a tender first kiss. It’s soft and sweet, ending with your forehead resting against his and sighing contently.

201 notes · View notes