#take care of your subs please | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raitonsfw · 8 months

Text

jjk men: sub edition

characters: gojo satoru, geto suguru, okkotsu yūta, kamo chōsō, & sukuna ryōmen.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, gn!reader (gojo), sub!characters, vibrating sex toys (gojo's and geto's), face riding (yuta's), pegging (choso's), refusal to submit (sukuna's), whining, whimpering, pleading, begging, dirty talk, bondage (gojo's), p in v intercourse (geto [riding] & sukuna [mating press]), anal sex (choso's obvi), slight rim play (gojo's), degrading & praising, pet names, gojo selfishly whines, geto can't keep his composure, okkotsu loves you, choso's completely fucked out, sukuna shares a body with itadori (& doesn't care about your kinks), fyi the reader isn't very dominant (more neutral, maybe i'll write another one of these with a dom!reader later on)

a/n: this came about 'cause of some hate from an anon about me writing satoru gojo whimpering & that men shouldn't whimper or moan? next time, be a dear and send it off anon? i'll answer you more thoroughly that way. i love having the option that is 'write to spite'. wc: 3.2k total. m.list

divider credit: @hitobaby

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮…❞ who isn’t really all that submissive– at least not on the surface. in public his exterior shone a haughty personality but in the midst of silk sheets, he whined like a little bitch.

soft whines of ‘please, baby…’ and ‘r-right there– yes…’ as you moved the vibrator towards the tip of his cock. he was sitting up against the headboard, his knees slightly bent and his bright eyes were glued on your hand that held the small pink wand.

you knew gojo quite well, the man could withstand almost anything sorcery related; curses expelling out left and right, best friends turned enemies– but he couldn’t handle the juddering feeling of a sex toy. he’d practically short-circuit. his entire body would freeze up as you ran it along the side of his thigh, a dulled lust sinking within his eyes and suddenly his cock would be rock hard.

you’d watch as his legs would spread open for you, a quiet obedience held within the air and you’d hum in content as he let you shed his trousers and boxers. and holy shit, it was so intoxicating to take in how fucking hard he got just from the slight indication of the vibrator buzzing up his thigh.

he wouldn’t be quiet for long though, no– that was just for show. as soon as your hand grabbed at his flushed cock, a choked gasp would follow and a bunch of pleas would spill out of his mouth like a waterfall.

“need the toy– give me the toy…”

“y/n, baby…sweetheart– c’mon...”

“please, don’t want your hand right now–”

“‘m sorry, i’m so sorry– fuck-!”

and despite his empty words (and the rushed apology when he vaguely realized his mistake), the vibrator would be set to the near highest setting. ‘cause there was something so hot watching him squirm from such a delicate thing, bulleting at an overstimulating press firsthand.

god, you could get drunk off of his whimpers and cries as they spilled from his mouth every time you ran the vibrator over a vein on the underside of his cock… his jolts of pleasure when you upped the setting by a hair as he was so sensitive and even the slightest change would send him spiraling… the constant clenching and unclenching of his fists within the confines of his blindfold– courtesy of you tying it that way.

you had the right mind not to edge him, his voice pitching higher and higher each second you ran the droning sensation over his slit, precum slathering the toy. his chest rose and fell quickly as you switched the settings to a different rhythm, his back arching out towards you and his cock bobbing against his tummy with a loud whine escaping him.

his head had knocked back into the headboard with his eyelids fluttering closed, a fucked out expression washing over his face as his thighs trembled– as his whole body trembled in front of you. you knew he was close; the tiny whimpers felling long with each stroke of the toy and the way his muscles tightened in his stomach with each roll of his hips as he desperately feigned for more friction.

which led you to take a quick gamble– and press the toy right against his rim.

you didn’t even have time to replace your hand on his cock as he painted his shirt white. long spurts decorated it, nearly up to his chin and you hummed softly to yourself as you pumped him through his release, your name heavy on his lips as he rode it out. you cooed out praises as he bucked into your hand, dribbling the rest of his cum all over it with small pants filling the room.

and as soon as he came down, his hands were slipping from his blindfold and pinning you underneath him– it was your turn now.

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮…❞ who’s slightly submissive– but knows how to keep his composure. it wasn’t often you got to see him needy, the man wasn’t exactly enthralled in giving you a show; so instead of begging for what he needed, he did everything in his power to please you.

the most he’d give you were tiny hums from the constant drag of his cock as you rode him, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. when he had the pleasure of cumming inside you – when he could because you’d fall apart against him in mere minutes – you’d hear the most sinful whimpers bare from his throat, his hands gripping your hips as he gasped for breath.

you couldn’t escape the cuddling afterwards either, the quiet contented sighs that captured you whole as he worked his body around yours in a tight embrace when the stars fell away from your eyelids. his mind would be reeling with the aftermath, still painfully hard in his boxers since he didn’t finish; but you came on his cock and that’s all that mattered to him.

but there were just some days where he needed you more than ever – and the aching pleasure of his cock spasming inside you – a pliant buzz reigning him in as he heard you come home. his arms would wrap around your waist as you’d toss your keys onto the kitchen counter and you’d feel his breath fan against your ear as he spoke, a slight whine etched in his voice.

“y/n, come to the bedroom with me…”

“ah–! shit… please?”

“need you tonight… can’t wait any longer–”

“gotta be inside you– right now.”

and you thought it was the usual routine, you laid out underneath him with his cock driving into you like no tomorrow. but as you were pulled into the bedroom, the box of sex toys you shared with him had been dumped over the bed and you realized his neediness and the sound that droned lightly from him– the vibrating cock ring was missing.

you weren’t exactly sure if geto ever acted submissive in his life, never really wanting to push him too far as he already did so much for you; he never seemed bothered by the lack of reciprocation. but when he came home with the cock ring and your life sure flipped a sudden switch, your collected man reduced to nothing but a puddle as you drove him to the edge over and over again.

as you fully sank onto his cock, his ring would vibrate against your folds and you’d sigh out in relief when you noticed his face screwed up in pleasure– and pain as he was already so close to his godforsaken orgasm. needy– fucking desperate whines would leak from his mouth as you bounced lightly on him, some hiccuped noises escaping him and– oh? he might cry.

his hair was splayed out on the pillows, some of it stuck to his sweaty shoulders as the corners of his eyes brimmed with tears, his hands clutching onto you for dear life. he wouldn’t say anything, too drunk off of the overstimulation of your pussy and the vibrations pushing him over the edge; except he couldn’t cum yet. not until you took off the cock ring and honestly, did you really want to?

this was one of the only times you saw this side of him after all.

you eventually let him cum, pulling off his cock to ease the ring off while instructing him softly not to cum until he was inside you. and he’d be damned if he didn’t shoot off inside you, holding himself back for all of ten seconds before the feeling of your walls warm around him pushed him over– you felt him twitch inside you and a lengthy moan accompanied as he tried his best to pull you close into him through it.

he stole kisses from you afterwards, his demeanor returning to the same old facade he encased himself in and you wondered if you buy him vibrating beads– what would that do to him?

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐨𝐤𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚…❞ who is just the right amount of submissive. he would quiver at the faintest feel of your fingers ghosting his cock as he knelt before you. his eyes would be nearly blown wide, taking in your composure as his falls away when you bend down eye level to him.

he’d know better than to buck into your hand like a poor puppy, desperate for any friction you could give him as his fingers reach out to grip at your clothing. and he wouldn't even realize he broke a rule as he repeated in his brain ‘don’t thrust’ into the warmth of your palm.

as you backed away, you’d notice the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes, the pout that would cross his face when he tried to retrace his movements– and then his mouth would be going a mile a minute with apologies.

“baby… i’m sorry! i’ll be good, i promise– i won’t touch you again.”

“please… forgive me? use me to get off…”

and that wasn’t a bad idea in your eyes as you thought it over, squatting back up to let him breathe. god, he was so pliant with you, complete putty– pulled and stretched out for you. his cock curved up towards his tummy as it stood proudly from the confines of his jujutsu uniform; he was so excited he didn’t even care to unzip his zipper, he just pulled himself out ‘cause you told him to.

as you finally allowed him up onto the space of the bed after his relentless regret, a muffled ‘thank you’ spilled from his lips before you could even position yourself onto his face and you clutched the headboard to steady yourself; because he wasn’t allowed to touch– and he sure knew that as he was chanting it in his mind.

he needed you to use him, to just sit right on his tongue and ride him mercilessly; it’s what he deserves for breaking one of your rules. but you were nice, you weren’t mean with your punishments and honestly this seemed more like a reward for him. he was manipulative, that one– you had to be careful as he could get you to do anything for him with just a glassy eyed look and a pout.

his hands grasped at the sheets for leverage as you sat down against him, his tongue not hesitating in the slightest to swipe over the swell of your clit and you huffed out a relieved moan. you didn’t falter, your hips rolling against his mouth with the shock of warm pleasure flowing through your body. and he reciprocated your moans, humming gently into you as he lapped at your arousal trickling against the tip of his tongue.

and all he wanted to do was touch you – bury his fingers inside you and fuck the life out of you – anything for his girl. but he knew the moment he moved his fingers from the threaded sheets, you’d pull off with a whine falling from his lips. god, did he want to please you– and he wanted it in return; his cock was aching even as it laid against his tummy. he couldn’t take it anymore, between the sweet taste of your slick running down his chin and the insane amount of precum building at the tip of his cock– he begged.

“fuck, please touch me… won’t cum til you say so, i swear–”

“just need your hands on me, y/n honey… l-love you so much– god, thank you.”

when you leaned back to pull him off, your other hand feathered into his hair and you caught a glimpse of his dark rimmed eyes staring back up with such profound desire– you just knew he wouldn’t last more than a few seconds.

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨…❞ who takes the cake for being the most submissive slut known to man. when you sunk into him the first time with the strap nudging into him subtly, he couldn’t help but let out a choked whimper. he would be so fucking full– his rim clenching harshly around you and you’d coo at him; some praises that did you no good as he could barely hear you through the pounding rush of blood in his ears.

you couldn’t even begin to fathom the drunk passion you felt for this boy, arching his back for you as you started to ease yourself in all the way– it was fucking insane and you weren’t even the one with your nerves on fire. he’d grip at the sheets with a wanton moan, pushing back onto the strap with eager hips and it took everything in you not to collapse onto him with the heated arousal you felt in your cunt.

you’d be on your toes, basically straddling the poor boy’s hips, your hands flush against his waist to keep you steady and all you’d hear was ‘more, please… i can take it–! need you to move.’ christ, you haven’t even gotten your bearings yet and he’s begging for you to pound him into the fucking mattress.

his spiked hair wouldn’t be in their usual ponytails, it sleeked down the back of his neck and soon, it was going to be balled up in your palms while you fucked the living shit out of him.

once you actually rolled your hips into his tight hole, a broken moan flew out of his mouth and his head drooped down onto the side of the bed. his entire body shook in pleasure as you thrusted into him shallowly, hushed pants coming from him as his cock dripped onto the sheets beneath you.

you noticed his cock rather quickly– and how neglected it looked, hanging between his legs with a reddened flush and you snaked your hand underneath him to tug at it a bit, earning a repressed whimper that was muffled in the sheets he buried his face into. before you knew it, your hips found a rhythm you were content with and one he was ecstatic with, his body jolting upwards with every stroke of his cock and bruising of your strap.

you knew you nailed his prostate when his head snapped up, his entire body shuddering around you. his moan was so sharp in your ears, it delved straight towards spine and you threaded your fingers into his hair with the words ‘good boy, that’s it… that’s the spot?’ leaking from your mouth in a soft tone. to which he nodded, a heavy need carving out his common sense and replacing it with nothing whines and whimpers.

‘soo good, thankyouthankyouthankyou–’

‘right there, keep going…’

and you did, even when you noticed his tongue loll out of his mouth– the fucked out expression blatant on his face as you pulled his head back to look at you. his violet eyes were watery, his mouth completely open in near silent moans as you pounded into him now, and you swore you saw a blood tear drip from his mark as he squeezed his eyes shut through a particular thrust. and now he begged for you, pleaded like no tomorrow as you fucked him senseless; his entire mind clouded with nothing but ecstasy.

‘am i being a good boy? please– tell me i’m being a good boy for you…’

‘fuck me harder, yeah– yes… shit–! so close…’

as he came around the strap, you watched in awe– ropes of cum spurting against the sheets and harsh gasps filled the air as you kissed down his back with your hands massaging his waist through the heavy orgasm. you ran a quick finger down his spine, reveling in the way he trembled against you as you pulled out of him.

you wouldn’t even talk to him properly afterwards, just tiny adorations; because you knew as soon as he came to, he’d be out like a light.

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧…❞ who isn’t submissive at all. the king of curses didn’t have a submissive bone in his body– completely overtaken by the dominant hull. you’ve tried to make him submit – more than once – but it never worked out in your favor.

your hands would delve towards his shoulders to pin him down as you rode him– well, tried to ride him as his cock pounded up into you harshly– but you’d be thrown off in an instant, a mating press following suit so you couldn’t move underneath him.

you’d whine for him to take you more than once in a single night, in pursuit of overstimulating him– but you failed to realize just how much stamina he had and you ultimately ended up being the one overstimulated with your cunt stuffed full of his cum each and every time.

there were some days where he played along with your endeavors to be nice. sometimes a quiet whine would fill his throat before replacing it with hefty growls and grunts while you sucked his cock. and other times he’d let you have the upper hand for more than a half a second, reveling in the way your body moved against him to try to overtake him.

your tits would bounce right in his face and it made him think twice– he almost begged for them, wanting nothing more than to take them into his mouth and litter them red with teeth marks. but that thought left his mind rather quickly as your cunt pressed warmly against his cock, stirring it awake from its confines and it was game over.

there was no way he’d beg for a lowly human.

why would he need to when you gave yourself up to him so easily? you’d practically jump him as soon as he switched with itadori, strong arms holding onto you as you pushed him onto the bed. but of course, he could flip you over in an instant and he would, his cock dragging deliciously along your walls within the next two minutes.

as much as it was fun to watch you squirm and cry about him not letting up his dominance, it also turned him on immensely. his cock would ache inside you as you begged for him to make a needy noise… his eyes would threaten to roll back as you clenched around him in hopes he would show some type of submission… and he’d have to recollect himself when you breathed hot in his ear that he was such a good boy for fucking you so well. why the fuck did that affect him?

but once he grounded himself, you were in trouble– his cock pounding into you with heinous phrases leaking from his mouth. he couldn’t bear to listen to you anymore, the idea drove him insane– a fucking human shouldn’t be calling him wretched pet names like that. so to shut you up, his palm would end up on your mouth and his tongue there would shove straight into it. he just needed to fuck the kink out you, that’s all.

and of course being the curse that he is, once you couldn’t speak, he’d tease (berate) you about your subby needs.

“ah, so you get off on pussy men now?”

“don’t look away from me, doll, answer the question.”

“what– you want me to whine and beg for you like a goddamn pup? i don’t think so.”

“now hold your legs open ‘n take my cock… like a normal fucking human.”

yeah, you tried and all it got you was a sore cunt each time, unable to walk without a bit of a wobble– his devilish smirk and targeted eyes followed you every step of the way before he relinquished his form to itadori in the morning.

taglist: @izakyun | @classyempathmongercloud | @satorawrrr | @winterskeleton

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

4K notes · View notes

entirelytoooobsessed · 7 months

Text

needy!drunk!gojo satoru x gn reader-based off this post

synopsis: gojo is a lightweight, vowed to sobriety to keep whatever bit of shame he has left to his name. but he really can't help but take a few shots when he sees you doing the same.

warnings: sub gojo, gn dom reader, both reader and gojo are drunk, gojo's a lightweight, handjob, semi-public sex, he cries-like a lot, he also had nipple piercings bc i couldn't help myself, reader's kinda a hoe, feelings, think that's it

The warm press of hands against your hips is what makes you gasp. The soft touch of lips traced over your throat is what makes your head spin.

What a delightful feeling.

What a human desire.

“Touch me.”

The room spins around you, the warm feeling of being held making you sigh, leaning into it. The scent of him, the greedy claiming of his presence in your mind. So selfish. Of him not to think of the effect that this has on you. To not care about the war going on in your mind.

“Touch me, please?” A whine this time. A meek sound, spilling from his lips, making your body light up in return.

“Satoru,” He practically purrs at his name on your lips. Pathetic. How easily riled up he is. How easily you’re able to make his knees feel weak. How much he loves the sound of your lips forming his name.

“Mmmm, say it again.”His nose sweeps delicately over your neck, working over a heavy sigh as he tries not to get drunk on the smell of your shampoo. Or more drunk than he already is, that is.

“Your name?” You mutter slowly.

“Yeah….” His words have been gradually slurring over the span of the night, with the amount of shots he’s taken, with the amount of drinks he’s had. With the inches of space between you closing until there’s nothing between you but the thin layer of clothing that does nothing to hide the bulge he shamelessly presses against you.

Even so, you know that he's always been far beyond measures of shame, but this is a whole new level, the way he continues to press his body impossibly closer to yours, his broad chest against your shoulders, his hips canting against you.

You’ve always hated how he’s been taller than you, his incessant teasing when he throws you over his shoulder as you yell and pound on his back. He takes advantage of it all too often.

You don’t mind now.

“Why, Satoru?” Maybe you’re cruel for the teasing, for liking your friend’s reactions all too much. Shivering, nearly violently, throbbing against your lower back.

He whines, “Sounds so…-so much better when you say it. Makes me wanna just…”

His breath is heavy with the scent of alcohol and you’re still not entirely sure how Shoko and Suguru managed to get him to break his vow of sobriety. Not when you’d seen him turning them down for the first bit of the night.

The next time you saw him he was getting dragged along by you, gulping down whatever liquids you shoved into his hands.

With his feverish hands tracing up your body and his sinful hips pressing against yours. Muttering about how he wanted you and needed you, whispering about things he'd never have said in the harsh reality of day, but was that not the beauty of getting intoxicated beyond belief?

“Hmm? Just what?”

He simpers, “Wan’ you to touch me, play with me, like I’m just a toy for you~” He grinds slowly and you wish you could kiss him. Kiss him until he’s breathless and red and can’t remember his own name. Dazed and dizzy and muttering gibberish while loosely gripping onto you.

You don’t think if you’d even have to kiss him to do that right now, but the taste of his perfectly pink lips would just be an added pleasure to this delectable mix.

But you shouldn’t. And you won’t.

Not because he’s your friend and this will surely be crossing some unspoken line.

Or because it’ll throw off the axis of your entire friend group. You'd never let that stop you before. And you wouldn’t let something like that stop you now. Not when you've clumsily pressed your lips to Shoko’s, high out of your mind and hidden under the blanket of dark nights. Or when you let your hands wander along the lengths of Suguru’s skin, promising to make him feel things he’d never felt before.

Not because Satoru Gojo is one of your best friends.

But because Satoru Gojo is currently drunk and so are you. And despite the fact that you’re practically drowning in the warmth of alcohol and all that is Satoru Gojo, you want whatever you do with him to mean something-be something. Not just a clumsy night of drunken mistakes and hazy flashes, not something you’ll forget in the morning and agree to never speak of again.

He’s too…important for you to treat him like that. And you’re too selfish to let anything you do to him to mean anything but the fact that he would be yours. But he’s not yours. And you’re not his. And all this thinking is only making a steady ache build behind your temples.

You sigh, twisting around in his arms. Blue eyes blinking back at you, slowly searching over yours and fuck, his lips are so kissable. Pink and plump, trapped between his too white teeth.

“Let’s get you back to Shoko and Suguru, they’ll take you home and make sure you don’t kill yourself.” You’re not entirely sure where they went or why they’ve left the two of you behind, all alone where they'd know neither of you were in the right mind to make good choices.

“No,” He shakes his head, white hair tossing, ruffled and mussed from a night of clinging to you like this. Far too close for comfort though you still couldn’t bring yourself to pry him off. “No, n-no, don’t wan’you to leave…”

You begin to tug him off either way. He’s not sane enough to make decisions for himself and you don’t think you are either. “C’mon baby, let’s go find your friends.”

He shudders and grips your hand, refusing to move an inch. Tears pool in his eyes and your jaw hardens.

You sigh. You didn’t know why you thought this was a fight you’d win either way. It was a losing game trying to argue with Satoru. His lips wobble and you can feel your resolve withering away by the second. Tearing down every single defence you put up around, being ripped away by him and his stupid tears as if they were paper.

“Don’t leave.” He whispers and he looks pathetic but you know you’ll give in to him if he asks you to. “Don’t leave me…please.”

You cup his cheek and he purrs, melting into the touch as if he were a cat, pushing into you for more attention. Basking in your attention as you sweep his tears away with your thumb, letting him close his eyes and pull you into the soft cushioning of a booth.

You feel heady or maybe it’s the alcohol talking. More tears roll down his cheeks, tracking along the slopes of his flushed face. Crystalline and sacred and you realize with a twist in the pit of your stomach that it’s arousing.

The sight of him. His sweat-soaked skin and his eyes big and glassy. And the fragile mask he’s worked so hard to keep up deteriorating beneath your very eyes, each tear breaking and cracking apart the image of the powerful man he claims to be.

A crumpled facade of a God into a something more, something divine and corrupt, something vulnerable and weak and so very human in your arms, falling apart by a mere touch.

Maybe you’re more fucked up than you realized. Maybe you’re just horny. Maybe because it’s him. And he’s Satoru Gojo and everything about him is perfect. Powerful. Transcendent. A God against humans, finally falling apart like this, before you, ready to fall to his knees. Perhaps he was always meant to.

“Don’t wanna be alone…don’t wanna…ngh~”

His hips thrust up, a whiny gasp working past his lips. He pants as if he’s run a marathon and you want to do such delectably sinful things to him and you’re sure you could do them all and more and he’d only beg and plead for more.

Perhaps…

“Kiss me.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, you wonder if he can hear with how loud it is. “Satoru,”

He whines and grinds and you moan. And it’s a losing battle.

“Shut up,” he insists, hand cupping the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair, almost obsessively. “Shut up and just kiss me.”

“You know we can’t. You-“

“I, am perfectly fine.” His words are a pant, a plea, whispered with a kind of reverence of a worshipper to a god. “Just kiss me, fuck me. Use me,” white eyelashes flutter, blue looking all the bluer rimmed with red and filled with tears. “Use me until you’re bored of me, until there’s nothing left-i don’t care.” He breathes, desperate and pleading and looking like he’s ready to get down on his damn knees on the dirty sticky floor. “Just-please.”

A losing fucking battle.

Maybe it always was. Trying to keep your hands off him, now, you realized it was like setting a treat on a dogs nose and telling them to wait. A crazy amount self control with the eventual prize just in sight.

All you can think as you cup his cheeks, flushed and wet from tears, warm against your hands is how fucking pretty he is. How you want him more than you think you’ve ever wanted anything. “Fuck, Satoru,” you mutter and he moans deep and appreciatively and then you’re pulling him in to slide your lips against his.

And now all you can think about is how much of a dumbass you are for not doing this sooner.

He tastes like alcohol and cigarettes-when he had one you don’t know but you do know that it’s the most intoxicating mix you’ve ever encountered. You feel like you’re floating, high off his taste and his moans; like he’s a drug and you’re the addict, injecting him straight into the vein.

It's far from elegant and he’s not perfect at it in the way you’d expect from a man as beautiful as him-godhood hasn’t blessed him in every aspect. But he’s desperate and he's eager to take everything you give, mewling against your lips.

He’s so needy and it's crazy the way it sends you into a sort of reverie. His hands gripping your hips hard, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go, like he’s hoping you’re real and not a apparition of drunken hysteria. He pulls you closer, as if you could get close enough that no one could find where you ended and he started, that you might be able to meld into one.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same sentiment. If you didn’t try your hardest to do the exact same; nails pressing into his skin, making him whine as you tilted his head back and slipped your tongue into his mouth, exploring, feeling, taking, using.

Just like he told you to do.

He vibrates against you, nearly shaking with choked noises. He mutters soundless words, each and every one swallowed by you as soon as they’re spoken. Pleas and prayers, worships and praises.

You’d show him what real ascension felt like.

You probably should be embarrassed, or at the very least shameful to be putting on such a show in front of what you know are watching eyes. But you know that Gojo is far past shame at this point and you're too enamoured by the beauty that is Satoru Gojo clinging to you like he’s about to break.

To be honest, you can't find it in yourself to give a shit about any of them. About anything but him, focusing your attention on devouring him whole as he shatters, ready to catch every piece as they fall into your waiting hands. No matter if the shards rip apart your skin and leave you a bloody mangled mess.

You break away first, fighting a smile at his whine as you pull away from him, panting.

He looks unravelled, messy. His usual flirty facade lost to pleasure. His watery eyes and heartbroken whines gone as well. Overwhelmed by swollen lips and gasps to make up for lost air. A blush like he’s just realized where he is, burying his face into your neck to hide from the probing eyes. To whisper, "You're too good at that, you know?.”

You bark a laugh and he nuzzles into your skin.

And then you’re redirecting him to your lips again.

In a flurry of hands and lips, messy steps and you’re clumsily stumbling into the bathroom. Quickly, Satoru is shoved against the door, fingers fumbling for the lock.

Your lips find his neck, fluttering a barrage of open-mouthed kisses over the heated skin, dragging your tongue along his thrumming heartbeat.

He whines and he begs, muttering nonsense that makes it to your ears but not to your head as you hum against him. Slender fingers knit through your hair, holding you close to him, pleading for you to never leave him.

“Touch me, touch me, touch me.” He repeats, slurred and slow, his eyes drooped shut, his voice husky with want, with lust and everything he’s been just barely repressing all this time.

But you've only ever been a slave to his desires.

So you respond in tenfold, nipping and sucking, leaving evidence that you've been here, staking a claim that doesn't exist and maybe never will but for tonight maybe you can play pretend.

Because he keens when your teeth sink into his skin and his back arches, pressing evidence of his wanton yearnings against you like you might devour him whole.

Like he wants you to.

He quieter when he whispers something that could change everything. “Love me?”

Your heart pounds in your chest but you’d never turn him down.

Fingers deftly undo the buttons on his tight-fitting button up, revealing porcelain-like skin underneath. His nipples are hard and pink and fucking pierced.

He gasps when you touch them, pinching them between your thumb and forefinger.

And you've never been particularly mean but you can make an exception for the God in front of you, leaving him to tortuous touches all while he throbs and thrusts into nothing but the fabric of his too-tight pants, whining from the stimulation that's all too little.

He's been begging for this all night. Whispering dirty words like a little tease, like a shameless slut.

He got you all riled up and for that you think that he should take his own share of teasing.

For retribution, for your own piece of mind and the pleasure it is to watch him squirm against the wall, eyes squeezed shut and tearstained and begging in small breathless whimpers barely over a whisper.

But you've never been able to resist him long, not then, not now and not ever.

Your hand finally reaches for his waistband, his body shivering with the feeling of your fingers dipping onto hot, untouched skin.

But he stops you.

His hand, large and pale landing over your own in a quick moment of lucidity.

His voice emerged, a whisper of uncertainty and longing. "Y-You'll take care of me?"

You met his vulnerability with a promise because you could never leave him with any less. "Yes," your words a whispered caress, a undying oath in itself, a vow that you'd take beyond this in whatever may happen.

Your lips brush over his ear, his eyes squeezing shut as your hand wraps around him, dragging a ruinous moan from deep in his throat.

"I promise, I will."

And your hand is wrapping around him, hot and wet and hard, all for you. Just for you. And his head is turned off, just sensations and feeling and you.

Just you.

"F-fuck, yes, please," so broken, fragile almost as ironic as it is. "Yes, pl-please, feels so go-good."

He doesn't last long and you don't know if it's from all the teasing you've administered or from how long he's been worked up for.

But you rather like the thought of him being sensitive enough that your voice and a few strokes is enough to bring him to the edge.

To have him pulsing in your hand while his arms wrap around your shoulders, blunt nails scraping into you skin as his hips thrust with reckless abandon.

His body quivering with pleasure as your hand forms a loose hole for him to fuck into, your thumb playing with the sensitive head of his dick.

"Please, please I need it, need it so bad," And he has no right sounding this good, looking this good while fucking into your hand like a goddamn dog. "Need it more than anything."

He always has been one for dramatics.

His head falls back against the wall, throat bobbing with the moan deep in his throat, fuck how the marks of your teeth stand out on the pale skin of his neck. Your lips permanent on his body for now, forever maybe if he'll let you keep replacing them.

"Fuck, Satoru," You free hand threads through his head, pushing his lips to meet yours, messy and slopping as he arches against you, hips thrusting erratically to match your pace. Keening when you nip at him, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, nails scratching at his scalp sending tingles down every part of his body.

He breaks away with a gasp and a cry when and only when he absolutely has to, eyes shining and chest heaving with breaths to fill his burning lungs.

And he's crying. And he's beautiful.

More beautiful than anyone or anything you've ever seen in your life.

"Shit, I'm close, m' so fuckin' close-!"

You’re half out of your mind and you couldn’t feel more sane. Like this was meant to happen-like he was meant to be yours.

"Don' stop, please don't stop," he gasps, like you'd ever think about it, like you'd could even if you wanted to.

“Satoru,” And he shakes.

“Satoru,” And he sobs.

“Satoru,” And he breaks, head falling back as if in prayer, a finger pushing his chin up, clashing against a higher power he didn't think possible.

“My one and only Satoru.” Soft and sweet and just for him and only him. And he’s gone.

Ropes of cum spurt out, rope after rope, covering your hand and the floor. Covering his thighs and his stomach in a mess.

Everything feels fuzzy and his cheeks are pink. A stupid grin crossing his face as he melts, boneless in your arms. "I love you." He mutters, distantly, foggily.

Perhaps somewhere beneath the haze he thinks that maybe you've said the same back. But he isn't quite sure anymore. He needs to be sure.

Slowly, he's lowered onto the floor into a sitting position. The tile is cold against his bare skin but it's okay because you're still caressing him, holding his face in your hand, thumb wiping at his tears.

"You love me right?"

You leave for moment and a whines at the loss of you pressed against him. Even if it's only for a few seconds he feels lonely and empty without your touch.

But then you're back and you're wiping him down with a wet towel, cleaning off his skin so gently, as if he's made of glass of porcelain, like he something to be cherished and taken care of.

"Hey pretty boy, you good?" He recognizes your voice even throughout the cloud in his mind. He nods and you smile and he's melting all over again.

"Do you love me?"

You roll your eyes and for an awful second he thinks that maybe you're going to say no. But then you're pushing the hair off his forehead and kissing him so fucking gently he thinks he'll cry.

"I do love you Satoru."

And his heart is bursting-he swears it is, it's beating so fast and so hard he's absolutely sure that you can hear it and that the quiet laughs escaping your pretty lips is because you can tell how dumbly in love with you he is.

But that doesn't matter.

Because right now he's normal person and you're a normal person and nothing else will matter but the fact that he's your's now.

"I love you too, y'know?" He mumbles.

You kiss him again, and again, and again. On his forehead and his temples, his cheeks and the tip of his nose and each of his eyelids. You kiss everywhere on his face until his lips are pouted out and he lets out a little whine of frustration.

And then you kiss his lips. Barely a peck, too fast and short for his taste but he doesn't have time to complain as you pull him off the floor.

“C’mon pretty boy, let me bring you home.”

“Mmm,” He doesn’t move, boneless against you. “Will you fuck me again?”

You laugh, soft. “Like I’d be able to resist you.”

3K notes · View notes

nereidprinc3ss · 5 months

Text

do you believe me now? | 3

in which spencer reid spends a rainy day teaching inexperienced fem!reader how to touch him. of course, her efforts don't go unrecognized, much less unrewarded

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings: inexperienced reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, oral m receiving, reader swallows lol, a truly sickening amount of praise, like really, you JOKINGLY refer to each other as dirty sluts, r has longish hair, spit mentioned once, thigh riding (moans loudly), its filthy idk what to tell you, i feel like i've crossed the desert on foot i don't even know what else is in here, your honor they're in love, i take you to dinner first, this part is stupidly long a/n: had a fucking field day the three separate times i had to rewrite this el oh el... but think i like how it turned out?! anyway, if u like this PLS lmk bc writing it took a small piece of my soul, and yes there will be a part four!! take care of yourselves!! i love you!!!

You give Spencer half a minute or so before knocking on his door for a second time.

It’s miserable outside, and though the hallway you’re standing in now isn’t terribly cold, you’d much prefer to be in Spencer’s apartment, where it will be the same toasty 68.5 degrees as always. Not that the heating will magically dry you. And not that you’ll be there for long, if the date you’d scheduled last week goes on as planned.

You’re getting worried, about to knock for a third time when the locks finally click and the door opens to reveal a disheveled Spencer Reid—not at all looking ready for a date. You take in his ensemble; blue checked pajama pants, FBI Academy crewneck, the usual questionably paired socks. He’s rubbing his droopy eyes, which slowly widen as he notices your attire.

“Shit, I’m sorry, our date! I mean—you look really nice. I look… like this. Why don’t you come in while I get ready to go?”

He holds the door open a little wider and you step through, relishing in the familiar warmth as you pull your hood down and excess water droplets spatter on the ground.

“When did you get in?” you ask, hanging your raincoat up on a hook. You know he’d wrapped up a case yesterday evening, but you’d gone to sleep before the team left Cincinnati.

Spencer pauses in the middle of the room, staring at the antique flooring like he forgot what he was doing.

“Uh… four hours ago.”

“Wh—four hours? Spencer, you must be exhausted.”

He laughs awkwardly, running a tired hand over his face.

“I mean… I’ve definitely felt better.”

You kick your soaked shoes off and cross the room until you’re toe to toe with him. Immediately his hands settle on your waist and yours find his arms. His eyes are kind, and he’s clearly pleased by your presence despite his lack of energy.

“The weather’s terrible, anyway. Let’s just go out another day.”

His features have softened and you can see how tired he truly is—not just in his bleary eyes, but the way his fingers grasp weakly to you, the way his head bows slightly. It seems bone-deep.

“But I haven’t seen you in a week. I don’t want you to go home.”

Your lips twist. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts coming down even harder against the windowpanes.

“We could hang out here. We can take a nap!”

Spencer sighs—half resignation, half disappointment.

“But we made such good plans,” he laments.

You kiss his cheek.

“Plans that can be rescheduled. The bookstore will still be there next weekend.”

It takes him a moment to settle into the idea, but you watch the exhaustion win.

“Okay. But no nap. I want to be awake for you. Coffee?”

You nod enthusiastically, beaming at the prospect of getting to spend the day doing nothing with him. Spencer mirrors your grin, before pressing a kiss to your head.

“You’re so cute.” Heat creeps into your cheeks and you can’t think of a satisfactory reply, but in the end you don’t need to, as he tugs gently on your hands. “C’mon. Tell me what mug you want.”

The kitchen counter bites into your palms as you lean with your back to it, watching Spencer putter all around the kitchen as he works on the coffee. It makes you tired just to watch.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, you know.”

“I do know,” he agrees, measuring coffee grounds. “But other than last night, I actually slept fairly well this week.”

“You seem exhausted.”

“I… am tired in lots of ways. Not all of which can be resolved with more sleep.” he admits.

Your heart drops ever so slightly at the way his voice weakens as he looks through the fridge. Sometimes you remember there are still things you don’t know about him—sides you haven’t met. His work side is one of them, and it more than a little intimidates you.

“Bad case?” you ask, voice quiet and crackling with nervous energy.

Spencer nods, approaching and setting a carton of milk on the counter behind you—caging you in with his arms in the process. It’s hard to find the words when he’s this close, but you manage to stumble through them.

“Do… do you wanna talk about it?”

Spencer hums, tilting his head before gently saying, “not right now. But thank you for offering, lovely.”

“Okay, well—if you change your mind… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”

Finally he stops with the teasing—the unabashed staring at your lips, the faux-attentive nods—and drops his head to your level to kiss you properly. It’s obviously an attempt to get you to shut up, you’re not dumb enough so as to miss that—but you don’t really care why he’s doing it so long as he does it at all.

“I feel pretty great right now, actually,” he murmurs against your lips, a hint of a smile coloring his words. “Do you want sugar in yours?”

“Um…”

Your eyes dart helplessly between his as he pulls away and you struggle to un-fluster yourself enough to answer his simple question. Spencer seems to delight in this. The longer it takes you, the bigger his perfect smile gets.

“You took too long. You’re getting sugar.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” you plead later on the couch, for the third or fourth time, setting your mostly-empty mug on the coffee table.

His eyebrows raise.

“I’m sure, honey.”

“But I want to help,” you pout, pulling your knees into your chest. Spencer regards you for a moment from the other end of the couch, before beckoning you closer wordlessly.

“You are helping,” he assures you, gently grabbing your wrist as you crawl into his lap. He rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin with his thumb. “You being here and being you is plenty.”

It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before he left, and while you’ve all but given up on asking him to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you don’t think about it multiple times per day. It’s especially difficult to keep your thoughts PG when you haven’t seen him in a week, and his hair is all messy, and he’s got his pajamas on, and you’re in his lap, and he’s looking at you like that.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer murmurs, likely concerned by your lack of response and the glazed-over look in your eyes. You reanimate, averting your gaze to the spot on your thigh he’s now rubbing absentmindedly.

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you a lot, too.” You don’t even have to look up to know that his brows have twisted into a pleasant sort of bemusement, like you are a particularly complex puzzle—you can hear it as he continues speaking. “I’m still not used to having something external take up so much of my attention while I’m trying to do my job. I’ve never had that before. Not something good, anyway. It’s like every time I leave, I’m thinking about you more than the time before. And I was already thinking about you a lot.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as he rambles.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he chuckles. “You prove to be incredibly distracting even when you’re hundreds of miles away. Do you know how many nights I almost called you before realizing it was one in the morning?”

A slow smile spreads over your face.

“Oh? Whatever could you have been calling about at one in the morning?”

You’re teasing him, and it works. He blushes adorably.

“Um… probably exactly what you’d expect. In hindsight I think it’s best that I refrained.”

“What?” You grin, incredulous, forgetting your shyness and leaning closer. “You totally should’ve. I’ve never had phone sex before. I would’ve done it.”

“No, you wouldn’t!” Spencer laughs. “It would have just been me talking to myself with you on the other line. I don’t think phone sex is really up your alley.”

“Shut up,” you laugh as your lips meet. He smiles into the kiss. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away, leaning back when he tries to follow you. “I think you’re over-complicating it. It’s just dirty talk, right? I can totally do that. It’s just, like… blah blah blah, dirty slut, something something…”

You trail off as he gives you a look. Poker faced—aside from the slightly narrowed eyes sparkling with humor.

“You want me to refer to you as a dirty slut?”

Maintaining eye contact is an uphill battle—you crack in a matter of seconds, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes stubbornly.

“No. For all you know I want to call you a dirty slut.”

It’s a ridiculous, but he recognizes the bravado for what it is, still smiling slightly as he rubs your hips.

“Right. I apologize for assuming. But just for future reference, I don’t want to be called that, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable calling you that, either.”

“But you can call me other stuff,” you remind your boyfriend, pulling back and still not looking at him.

“Yeah? Like what?”

And just like that, you’re shy again.

“I don’t know… nice things. I like when you’re nice.”

“I like being nice to you.” It’s so sincere-sounding that you meet his gaze, examining his face. His eyes are clear and soft on you, the only source of warm light on such a grey day, as his hands keep running slow lines over your sides. “Kiss?”

And how could you ever deny him anything?

As has happened before, the kiss starts out innocent enough. And it’s not that it gets particularly heated, or anything—it’s just that it doesn’t end, and after a few moments your mouth slips open and so does his and that’swhat gets both of you worked up over a period of minutes. Pressure and heat that you’re becoming accustomed to build between your legs, and you don’t even notice that you’ve begun rocking back and forth in his lap until Spencer is attempting to still your hips with patient but assertive hands.

“Honey, that’s—slow down, sweetheart.”

Finally he gets a grip on you and you realize as soon as you stop moving that there had been friction occurring—and you’re pretty damn sure you know what you were grinding against.

Your whole body feels hot with arousal and embarrassment.

“Oh my god—I’m sorry,” you mumble, moving your hands from his shoulders to cover your face. “That was an accident, I—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assures you, squeezing your waist gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing because I know we haven’t… gotten there, yet.”

A moment passes—your hands fall to the FBI stitching across his chest, studying the letters without really seeing them. You haven’t gotten there yet… but why not? Why haven’t you touched him, or even seen him? You think back to the few times he’s touched you and realize that you had been too busy with either your own insecurities or pleasure to genuinely consider how it might be affecting him. He says your name gently, drawing your attention.

“You okay?”

You nod haltingly, brow furrowed as you think.

“I—yeah. I was just realizing that I haven’t, like… touched you, yet.”

It’s silent for another long second, and you glance up, to where he’s studying you with a dissonant kind of relaxed scrutiny—a knowing confidence that probably comes with a lot more experience than you have.

“Do you want to?”

Woah.

Usually you have to beg on hands and knees and prepare a slideshow presentation before he agrees to doing anything sexual in nature. He’s never so overtly invited or initiated it before. Not that you’re complaining by any stretch of the imagination.

You nod shyly, still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“If you want to, I can show you how. But it’s also absolutely okay if you don’t.”

Show you how?

Your brain is melting into sludge at the idea.

“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze again. It’s kind, and you know he really wouldn’t be upset if you said no—but now that you’ve thought about it, you feel deeply compelled to try.

“Okay. Come here, first.” You lean forward expectantly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you into another soft kiss. By the time your lips separate again, your head is spinning. “We’re just trying something, okay? You’re allowed to stop whenever you feel like it. Really low stakes. Got it?”

You nod, still close enough that your noses brush as you do.

“Got it.”

He presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning back into the couch.

“Scoot back a little, angel.”

Wordlessly you do so, heart pounding with nervous excitement as he lifts his hips and slides his pajama pants down just enough to where he can comfortably pull himself out, and—

Your breath catches.

Now, you may be about as virginal as they come, but you weren’t born yesterday. You’ve seen porn, you’ve received unsolicited nudes—it is the 21st century. Yet never before have you thought to yourself; wow, that dick is the pinnacle of beauty. Perfect. Breathtaking. But there’s just no other way to describe him.

So that’s what hits you first—how unexpectedly pretty it is.

The size sinks in a quick second later.

You can’t tell with perfect accuracy how many inches he is, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s big. That’s meant to fit inside of you?

No, no—that’s a consideration for another day. Right now you need to stop staring like an idiot. You glance up at his face, and he’s sporting a cocky little half-smile which lets you know you’ve been caught. Motherfucker he’s so hot. It’s unnerving.

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he asks politely, quite obviously containing his amusement. But you can’t summon a sufficiently sarcastic response.

Your voice comes so soft when you reply, “you’re pretty.”

Spencer melts, eyes impossibly softening.

“Pretty?” His smile is earnest now. He strokes your cheek and you can’t not lean into his touch.

“Mhm. I want to, um…” your lips twist to the side as you look back down, finding he’s not gotten less intimidating since you last checked. “But what if I’m bad at it?” you whisper. He chuckles, brushing hair over your shoulder.

“It’s kind of a hard thing to be bad at. And I’m gonna help you, okay?”

It’s the honesty with which he speaks to you that makes you feel so safe. There are no hidden intentions or words that seem to mean one thing but really mean another. Spencer wants you as a person more than he wants you as a body and that’s been clear since the first time he touched you. You take a deep breath.

“Okay. What do I do?”

“First, you’re gonna spit in your hand.”

You look up, alarmed.

“You want me to intentionally get my spit on you? Is that not your worst nightmare?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not super worried about yours,” he teases. “But if you’d prefer, I can spit in your hand.”

“Actually, mine is fine,” you laugh nervously.

Hesitantly, you do as instructed, even though it seems frankly bizarre.

“Good. Now just wrap your hand around it, like this.” His voice is quiet, focused as he guides your hand downward. Your heart rate ticks up again as he encourages you to wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He feels much warmer than you’d expected—his skin is silken beneath your touch but he’s undeniably hard and that sort of eliminates any sense of him being fragile from the equation.

“It’s gonna be less sensitive down here—and then, up here—” he slides your hand back up, covering your thumb with his own and swiping it just below the head of his cock on the underside. He hisses and you look up in fascination. “That’s the most sensitive part.”

Without further instruction, you do it again, keeping your touch light and watching his face for a reaction. His drawn brows twitch, furrowing deeper for a second, and his lips part. A heavy exhalation passes between them and quickly builds into a breathy laugh.

“What?” you murmur, over-eager to please and very nervous to do something wrong.

“Nothing. Just feels good, that’s all.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout. Of course that makes him laugh again, and he leans forward to kiss your head.

“I’m laughing at myself, angel. I’m a grown man fighting for my life from a handjob that you’ve barely started. I knew it would be different with you but I didn’t realize it would be this different.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he urges, grabbing your free hand and encouraging you to uncurl your fingers. His thumb traces circles in your open palm, before capturing your entire hand in his. “Do you feel how much softer your hand is than mine?”

You frown, attempting to feel whatever it is that he’s pointing out. Despite the fact that you think he has very nice hands, you realize he’s right. By no means would you say that they’re rough, but you can tell where his gun normally sits in his hands, where his fountain pen rubs against his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Anything you do is going to be perfect because it’s you.”

Spencer drops his hand to your leg, rubbing it soothingly. The other moves to cover yours—the one wrapped around him.

“You’re gonna help me, right?” you ask quietly. Some adventurous part of you is very excited about this as an experiment—fascinated by the reactions you’ve already gotten from him and eager to push it.

“I am. Little bit tighter, honey. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

You do as you’re told, and he’s murmuring more praise—slowly encouraging you to begin moving your hand with his own. A shaky exhale catches your attention, drawing your gaze to his face. His eyes are, of course, cast downward, but his expression is hypnotizing. Those lips remain slightly parted, and suddenly you wonder if he makes noises like you do. In that moment it becomes your life’s mission to find out.

For a while you continue letting his hand guide your movements, but he keeps things so slow for your sake that you’re getting impatient. You forgo his direction, picking up the pace but trying to keep the rhythm he’d instilled in the motion. His hand slackens around yours.

“Fuck,” he hisses to himself. The hand on your thigh rubs achingly deeper into the flesh. “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I want it to feel good.” Suddenly shy again, you slow down. His hips stutter, which you think may be a sign that it was working. “Am I—was that bad?” Spencer looses a breath, looking almost… frustrated?

“No, I’m just—I’m weirdly close to coming.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Well,” he mutters, “not usually. Mostly it’s embarrassing.”

You giggle, a release of some tension, and begin pumping your hand again. His breath hitches and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes with his own lust-glazed ones. Heat pools deep between your legs.

“I want you to come,” you admit quietly as you twist your wrist, brushing that spot underneath the head of his cock again. His jaw literally drops, and a look that is part confusion, part pleasure, twists his features. You see the surprise sparkling in his eyes and it only spurs you to keep talking. “I’ve never seen how you look when you do, but I’ve imagined it. I bet you look so pretty when you come, Spencer. ‘Nd then I would know that I can make you feel good, too.”

“You… you are making me feel good,” he assures you. The way his brow furrows and his lips are parted give you a feeling that’s entirely new. Normally, you’re the one falling apart under his touch—but when it’s the other way around there’s a whole new kind of pleasure in it for you. You feel kind of powerful. Maybe even close to confident.

“Really? I’m not this quiet when you touch me.”

“I’ve ha—ah—had more practice not making noise.”

“But why?” you implore, ignoring the fact that he’s slept with other women and enjoyed the sounds they made, and opting to brush your thumb across that extra sensitive part he definitely shouldn’t have told you about. His hips buck up and he hisses, which is immensely gratifying to you.

“Because I like to listen.”

“What if I do, too?”

In a moment of divine inspiration , you cover the tip of his cock with your hand, swirling beads of pre-come over your palm. Spencer moans and his hips jut up into your grip. It’s a beautiful sound, just as you’d hoped.

“Jesus, fuck.”

You understand why he seems to enjoy touching you so much. It’s so rewarding to watch as his breathing picks up and pleasure contorts his face—to watch him get messier and messier and lose his composure a bit more with each stroke of your hand. It’s so simple but Spencer looks at you like you’re exercising some arcane deviant power over him and he’s not sure he should be enjoying it as much as he is.

Distantly you think about how it felt when he had his hands on you—and then, in clearer focus, how it felt when he went down on you. Both were perfect, but something about his lips so gentle on the most intimate, vulnerable part of you had felt like ascension. Maybe it was the emotional component, or maybe it just felt fucking good. Regardless, it seems an irresistible thought.

You keep stroking him until his head is lolling on the back of the couch as he groans.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah, baby?”

He sounds so destroyed it makes you clench around nothing. Without any indication that you’re going to do so, you stop touching him, and the speed with which he lifts his head again is almost comical. Immediately, while he’s utterly defenseless and desperate, you ask, “can I use my mouth?”

His eyes widen, and then shut, as he processes your request with a tiny shake of his head—probably trying to clear the haze of pleasure from his mind before he answers.

“Honey,” he rasps eventually, opening his eyes and smoothing a hand over your hair, “you don’t have to do that just because I do. That’s not why I do it.”

“But I want to,” you murmur, shy and mildly embarrassed by what feels almost like a soft rejection. “I don’t think I could do anything, like, mind-blowing, but… I want to try.”

Your face is hot by the end of the sentence, and you can’t meet Spencer’s eyes as his fingers twitch over your hip. A quiet moment passes—but it’s short-lived.

“Okay. Go ahead, baby.”

Wide eyes dart up to his.

“Really?”

Spencer smiles fondly, brushing an invisible speck from your cheek.

“I don’t think I’m capable of turning that offer down. Not when it’s you.”

“Okay—um, should I just—” Spencer watches on, finding your sudden enthusiasm completely adorable as you scoot off of his lap and gingerly kneel in front of him. Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, hands set politely on his knees. You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between his face and his cock, now about as hard as it’s ever been due to your toying. He knows it’s probably intimidating for a girl who has never seen one in real life, and he feels kind of bad about it. You do terrible, wonderful things to him that he doesn’t understand. “Wow. So... it looks bigger from down here.”

“Please don’t try to choke yourself,” he instructs hurriedly, leaning forward slightly. “I really don’t need you to do that. It’s fine if you can’t fit it all, I just—” he exhales shakily. Spencer is most definitely strong-willed but he can’t pretend like the sight of you on your knees for him, inches from his aching cock for the first time isn’t impacting his cognition. Most importantly he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured. He’s trying to not let how badly he wants this show in case you change your mind.

Spencer watches as you psych yourself out—wilting like a thirsty flower.

“But what if I’m bad at this?” you mumble, hands curling into loose fists atop his legs. Spencer pushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears.

“What’s your worst case scenario?” he asks. Your answer is immediate.

“That I’m so bad you make me stop halfway through.”

Spencer can’t help but laugh again.

“I’m sorry—I just… honey, you are really underestimating how profound your effect is on me. I just almost came from a minute long handjob. I can assure you that I won’t make you stop halfway through because I’d rather not have your mouth on me. That is… that’s just not going to happen.”

You lean your cheek against his thigh. He might actually pass away.

“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

“Honestly, as long as you don’t bite, you’re in the clear.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips pull into an embarrassed little smile.

“Great. Thank you for that invaluable advice.”

“Of course,” he smiles. It fades slowly as you take a deep breath and look up at him, obviously steeling yourself, before leaning forward and taking him in your hand again. He watches with bated breath, repeating no sudden movements to himself over and over as your hand moves up and down a few more times and your head lowers.

You delicately, so lightly trace your tongue from the base of his swollen cock to just underneath the leaking tip, mapping a vein, and his hips buck as you take him into your mouth experimentally. Only the first few inches fit but the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way you’re looking at him is so unbelievably erotic Spencer knows he won’t last very long.

From a purely technical perspective—he knows he’s gotten objectively better head. Still, something about the way you’re so delicate with him, so soft and timid in the way you lick and kiss and take him into your mouth has him fighting not to come already. Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing that he’s watching you do this for the first time in your life is obscenely arousing. The idea that you’ve never trusted another person this much; that you’re letting him be the one to help you navigate something as new and as important as sexuality. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he realizes: it’s not your inexperience that turns him on. It’s just you. Everything you do is so undeniably you—he recognizes your mannerisms in every tiny motion, in every glance, and it’s killing him. You’re like a dream as you look up at him with big nervous eyes, (no, really, he has had this dream) and he remembers he wants to be reassuring you—not pondering life and human connection.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, groaning and hips twitching as your cheeks hollow, wrapping his achingly hard cock in soft gentle warmth so sweetly it feels taboo. “So good, baby. So gorgeous like this.”

You whine around him, receptive as always to his obsequious praise, and he notices the way your hips wiggle as you seek friction. God, you must like this a lot. Spencer gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, resting his hand on your head as you begin to bob it. That, he wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been satisfied with just kitten-licks and suckling but he won’t complain about this. It’s slow, and so intentional as you keep watching him for feedback cues. Ever his observant girl, you’re constantly paying attention. Aware of his reactions. He needs to keep telling you you’re good or else you’ll assume you’re terrible.

“Over-achiever,” he whispers through a little smile as you down even more of him.

Spencer is for the most part a kind and gentle person. For better or worse he is also a man, and he can’t help but fantasize about getting you all teary and drooly as he holds your mouth open and sees how much of his cock he can push down your throat. But again—kind. Gentle. So when you get a little over-zealous, attempting to sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure, he pulls your head back slightly. “That’s far enough, angel. That’s—fuck. God, you’re good at this.” The words are thoughtless, muttered to himself more than you as he watches through a haze while you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, slipping him in and out of your warm mouth, a little faster now as you gain confidence.

You whine desperately around him, like you’re the one nearing orgasm and not him. The sound of your pleasure as you suck his cock makes him dizzy. His hips buck, pressing him a little deeper into your mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales. “Slow down, baby. I’m—” a louder moan from him like you’ve never heard as he thrusts shallowly turns you on profoundly. He’s so much more vocal than you’d have imagined—sonically and verbally. He breathes out a quick, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” pulling your hair slightly, and you’ve never wanted to touch yourself more but you know you can’t focus on both. Instead you work on making him come—you can worry about you later. He says your name, with an authoritative edge to his tone that makes you throb. “Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come—”

You swirl your tongue around the top of him like candy and he’s done for. Spencer tries to pull out, which only results in cum both in your mouth and on your face. The orgasm is his strongest in recent memory, and he grunts, watching your lips part and a little squeak escape as he comes all over your face—but you keep stroking him all the while. Once he’s 90% sure it’s over, he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily and looking down at you through hazy eyes. Oh, he’s going to feel terrible about this in a few seconds—but right now you look fucking perfect. Your eyes are wide, nervous as his essence drips over your face and down your neck—he groans when you swallow cautiously, averting his eyes to the ceiling lest he do another thing he regrets.

“Baby, I am so sorry,” he mutters, forcibly clearing the haze of orgasm from his mind and sitting up, fixing his pants and looking around before locating the box of tissues on the side table. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look up at him attentively as he wipes himself from your face as gently as he can.

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t ask you first. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Spencer guides your head around by your chin, wiping your jaw and lips.

“It’s okay, Spence, I—”

“No, it’s not,” he cuts you off, trying to at least turn his guilt into a learning experience for you. He’s not deluded enough to think someone like you will stay with someone like him forever, because sometimes he does things like that, and he’s reminded that there are certainly people out there more deserving of you. At the very least he can clarify that nobody should ever do what he just did to you. “It’s really not nice to do that to someone.”

“Do you care what I think at all?”

Spencer freezes, finally forcing himself to look you in the eye. Despite the fact that he’s mad at himself, he’s sure it’s coming across as being directed at you. And he knows you’re sensitive, especially about this kind of thing.

“Of course, I do, baby. I’m sorry. Do you want to come back up here with me and tell me what you’re thinking?” he murmurs, cupping your jaw. Hesitantly you nod. The tissues end up on the table—which he will be thoroughlywiping down later—before you crawl back into his lap from the floor. Spencer helps you settle against him, hoping he hasn’t messed this up irreversibly. He keeps his voice quiet as he rubs your leg. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say,” you begin, “that it’s fine, because you’ll remember to ask next time. And because… I kind of liked it. I like when—when you do stuff like that.”

It’s a miracle he can hear you with the way your voice drops into an almost-whisper and you’re hiding against his shirt.

“Like what?” he murmurs. Although he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the answer.

“Like… I don’t know. Like you can do whatever you want to me. Like I’m literally yours.” Each word makes you cringe further, but Spencer has to try hard to maintain a cool facade as he processes this. If he’s going to try and be chivalrous, you’ll have to move away from this topic—this revelation—immediately. Thankfully, you seem eager to move on. “So… how did I do?”

He almost laughs. It seems exceedingly obvious how you did, but as per usual, you require verbal reassurance.

“That was really good, baby. You did well.”

You blossom.

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

“Was I the best girl out of all of the other girls?”

I wasn’t in love with any of the other girls.

Just barely, he manages to stop himself from saying it, pinwheeling his arms on the edge of a very steep verbal cliff. The realization that he’s been in love with you for a while hits him like a truck. But he can’t tell you that right now. He should wait until you’re less vulnerable.

Fuck.

He really wants to tell you right now.

“Actually—don’t answer that,” you decide, while all of this happens in his head in less than a few seconds. “I want to go back to pretending I’m the only girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“You’re the only one that matters,” he offers, relieved to express at least some portion of the much bigger truth. Then he frowns. “Not that the other women I’ve met don’t lead important lives. I actually know a lot of incredibly influential and intelligent people who are women. I have deep respect for all of them. Am I helping or making it worse?” he rambles. You giggle. He has his answer. “What about you? How do you feel?” he asks after a moment, tenderly, lowly, stroking your hair as you lean against his chest.

It takes you a moment to deliberate, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“I feel good. I, um… liked it a lot more than I would have thought.”

“Well, that’s good. Much better than if you had hated every second of it.”

You hum in agreement, and he waits for you to say whatever you’re holding back. It comes sooner than he’d have anticipated.

“I feel bad about the times before. How did you just… go to sleep after? Were you not, like—insanely turned on? Not that I’m, like, irresistibly sexy, or whatever—you know what I mean.”

Spencer smiles because he knows you can’t see him.

“I wasn’t doing it to pressure you into feeling obligated to reciprocate, I guess. My line of reasoning was that it would be less intimidating if I didn’t even present it as an option until you wanted to try.”

“Oh.”

Spencer thinks he sees where this is going.

“Why?” he asks, leaning back and encouraging you to look at him. “Are you insanely turned on?”

“Wh—that’s—I didn’t say that!”

Spencer can feel how warm your cheeks are as he presses his lips to the side of your face.

“You can tell me if you are,” he murmurs, all smiley as he moves to kiss your lips. “If you want something, you need to ask for it. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Yes you are,” you grumble. “That’s literally what behavioral analysis is.”

Not quite true, but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the need to explain to you the semantics of what he does for work right now.

“What got you all excited?”

“You know what,” you mumble, trying to look away again. Spencer doesn’t allow it this time, gently grabbing your jaw.

“Yes, I do. But I want you to tell me. If you want me to make you feel good, this is how you’re going to convince me that you deserve it.”

You whine wordlessly, looking at him with those big, lust-glazed eyes.

“You wanted me to teach you how to use your words, right? This is it. I’m giving you an opportunity. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe we can take a nap, like you said earlier.”

“No! I liked—um, I liked all of it. I didn’t know if I would, because I was really nervous. But when I first—you know—and you got all quiet… it was like you couldn’t even talk for a minute. I was kind of proud of that. Because normally nobody can ever get you to stop talking.” Spencer narrows his eyes incredulously, a small smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t interrupt—not when it seems you’re finally starting to get more confident in your words. “And I really liked the noises you made. I think that was my favorite part. I liked when you pulled my hair back, and how you spoke to me. And when… when you got me messy and I had to swallow it. I really liked how it felt because I couldn’t think of anything else, just making you feel good. I really wanted to… make you proud, I guess. Is that weird?”

Spencer shakes his head no, a fond smile on his face when your eyes meet his again.

“No. It’s a pretty normal thing to feel when you’re nervous and wanting to impress someone you care about. And I would have been proud no matter what, for the record. You were being very brave.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching him expectantly. Spencer should have known you’re too needy to truly absorb anything he says to you right now. Which is actually pretty cute. Everything you do is endearing to him.

“Stand up.”

You frown.

“But—”

“Just stand up,” he demands calmly, preferring to think of himself as firm and not bossy.

You do, looking rather annoyed and confused as you plant yourself in front of him.

“Why?”

“You are so full of questions.” His hands slip up the side of your legs, under your skirt, and hook in the waistband of your underwear. Spencer looks up at you meaningfully and you nod, swallowing.

As he pulls down, Spencer can literally feel the resistance of the fabric clinging to your soaked core. Under his touch the skin of your thighs is warm and soft. He wants to feel it on either side of his face, he wants to hear you whine as his stubble rubs against it, he wants to feel it clamp around his wrist, he wants it between his teeth and he definitely wants it pressing against his hips as he—

But no.

There will be time for all of those things—especially the last one—later. For now, he’ll reach between your legs just to see—

“Oh, my god,” Spencer half-chuckles, half-groans, upon feeling how wet you truly are for him. He drags his knuckles from your dripping entrance up over your clit, pinching very lightly and earning a squeak from you which he ignores. “You really did like having your mouth full of me, huh?”

“I told you,” you breathe, visibly relaxing some as he continues to play with you for a moment. Then he pulls his hand away again, patting his thigh.

“Sit.”

“You want me to…”

“Yes,” he says, simply.

“But is it not going to… am I not going to mess up your pants?”

“You are even more neurotic about messiness than I am. I can wash them, honey. Come here.”

Spencer guides your hips over his thigh, watching your pretty face twist with uncertainty as you fully settle on him. Fuck, he can feel your warmth through the fabric instantly. Already he’s getting hard again.

“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper, bunching his shirt in your fists. Spencer slides your skirt up higher, revealing the way you’re nestled against his thigh. He spreads you a little further apart, exposing more of your clit to the material underneath you. Immediately you press against him—he watches the delicate flesh rubbing gingerly against him and his grip tightens ever so slightly.

“All you have to do is rock back and forth. It’s easy.”

Already you’re starting to do it—but he guesses it’s like earlier where you don’t even realize it’s happening.

“But… I wanted your mouth,” you admit, quietly, slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face there.

“Do this for me first. Just get yourself off like this one time and then you can have my mouth. You said you wanted to help me feel better because I’m tired today, right?

“Yes,” you mumble, squirming over him.

“Well, there are a lot of days when I get back home and I’m tired. I’m gonna need you to be able to get on top of me, just like this, and make me feel better. And I know you don’t know what it feels like to have something that deep inside of you yet, but it’s gonna be a lot. Even once you know how it feels to have me inside when you’re underneath me. I need you to practice for me right now so you’ll be ready, okay?”

You could come from the words alone. You nod, dazed with need as you roll your hips in a circle, pressing his thigh against your clit.

“Back and forth, baby,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward with his hands locked around them. “Back and forth, just like this…”

You moan quietly, shamelessly, eyes fluttering as you look down and watch your clit dragging over the darkening fabric. It’s easier if you isolate your hips, grinding down without moving your legs or upper body at all.

“It feels really good,” you whisper under your quickening breath.

“Yeah? Does it?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, angel. You look like you know what you’re doing.”

It’s audible now, quiet and wet and dirty.

“I don’t,” you breathe. He sucks in a breath of his own, stilling your hips with fingers pressed deep into your flesh.

“Sit up, baby.” You really wish he would stop making you stop, but you don’t want to keep going in case he needs you to quit—so you rise slowly, thighs trembling as you kneel. Spencer groans at the strings of your arousal momentarily connecting your core to his pants before they snap, getting your inner thighs wet. There’s a dark, very wet patch over his thigh, shining like glass. He thumbs over your slick clit absentmindedly as he looks up at you like you’re a miracle. “You’re fucking soaked. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this all from making me come?”

You nod feverishly, hips grinding against nothing in search of friction. He sits you back down on his leg, allowing you to sloppily find your rhythm again. Spencer bounces his leg lightly and you cry out softly, buckling forward. His arms wrap around you, still pressing you down against his thigh as you rut against it.

“You’re sweet. Maybe I should have known how much you’d like it when I came all over your pretty face. You really like hearing that you did a good job, huh? I bet you like it even more when I prove it to you.”

You moan a “yeah,” barely processing his words.

“My good girl even swallowed on her first try. Took it so well. And now look at how you’re taking this. You’re gonna love riding, baby. Just going to be another thing you’re good at as soon as you try it.”

“Spencer,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the praise. He’s bouncing his leg at regular intervals and everything is so sensitive.

“I know it’s harder to finish this way, but just one time, remember? And then you can have my tongue for as long as you want. You are my only plan for the day. Just give me one like this.”

But it’s not really harder to finish this way. Then again, you’re so turned on you could probably finish if a breeze hit you just right. Regardless, the thought of him going down on you again pushes you even closer to the edge.

You don’t know how much time goes by like that, you rubbing against him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, him pressing up into you until the pressure is so taut it snaps. There’s no time to warn him, but you suppose you don’t really need to. You writhe against him, caught between wanting to keep going and not being able to take more stimulation. He lifts you up just slightly, trying to separate you from his leg. You exhale deeply as your body relaxes, already close to dozing off against his chest.

“We can’t have you tapping out just yet. I still have to fulfill my end of the deal.”

In the end, he fulfills it three times over, and you end up showing your appreciation in kind one more time—much slower and more comfortably in his bed. He gives you plenty of time to learn what he likes, taking your teasing and coquettish explorations like a champ and never so much as tightening his grip in your hair. Turns out, you don't exactly spend the day doing nothing.

And you do end up taking that nap after all. Just... much, much later. And with less clothing on.

part 3.5

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

3K notes · View notes

soaps-mohawk · 2 months

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 28: Two Is Company, Three Is A Party

Summary: Things don't quite go as expected during your heat, but he can hardly complain.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 12.150 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, UNSAFE SEX (please do not do this in real life, practice safe sex), anal sex, anal fingering, oral (m and f receiving), Dom/sub dynamics, threesomes, heat cycles, knotting, kissing, body fluids, cum eating, face sitting, spanking (it's like twice), Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, aftercare, and fluff

A/N: Well, this one got away from me. Not much to say other than heed the warnings and DO NOT read this in public or in underwear you care about...also maybe ditch the underwear all together this time.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

Kyle’s eyes immediately dart back to meet John’s gaze. The word coming from your lips has shocked him, startled him even. You hadn’t said much during your first heat, reduced mostly to unintelligible mumbling when you were aware enough to look around with that hazy gleam in your eyes. Here, but not aware. Now your eyes are clear, staring up at him intently as you cling to his wrist. He can’t help but wonder if you’ll remember this, or if it’ll stay lost in the haze.

John stares back at him, his gaze focused but Kyle knows him well enough to tell he’s just as surprised. He’s still drinking the electrolyte drink, his throat bobbing slowly with every swallow. Kyle knows he’s doing it so he won’t have to answer right away, assessing the situation in the moment of clarity from his rut. He’s still wrapped around you, still locked inside you.

The moment seems to last an hour, the tension between the three of you palpable. The anticipation from Kyle, waiting to see what John will say, the intense desire from you to pull him onto the bed, and John’s uncertainty as to how to proceed. It's not uncommon for betas to join during heats, it's not even that uncommon for betas to be the ones helping during heats. The pups of a beta and omega pairing do exist after all.

Kyle's eyes haven't left John's, even as you mouth at his wrist, tongue laving over the sensitive skin, teeth gently scraping like you're trying to devour him. He can't help the stirring in his pants from the heavy scents in the air, the sounds that had been coming from the room less than 20 minutes ago still ringing loud in his ears.

John pulls the now empty bottle from his lips, taking the time to screw the cap back on. Kyle holds his hand out automatically, ready to take it like he could escape your tight grip to toss it into the garbage with the others. He debates throwing it into the garbage from where he's standing, but the loud nose might startle you, which might make John get defensive.

Instead he lets it drop to the floor. He'll pick it up later.

John continues to stare at him, holding his gaze. There's sweat beading on Kyle's back as he waits for what's coming next, what John's decision will be. He has no reason to be nervous. The fact he's in this room, so close to them speaks volumes of trust John has, the safety he feels letting Kyle around his omega in such a vulnerable position.

“She wants you.” John finally says, leaving it open to Kyle. It's not an order, it's not a hesitant decision left open for you to make, it's not even a direct question. It's an opportunity, an opportunity for Kyle to make the final decision. You've already decided, and in presenting this opportunity, so has John.

Kyle takes half a step back, a whine leaving your lips but you let him go. Your whine cuts through him, desperate and needy and almost sad. It hurts him, only aiding his decision.

He kicks off his shoes, stripping out of his shirt and pants. He debates leaving his boxers on, but he already knows what's going to happen, what the endgame of this will be. It’ll be one less obstacle for all three of you.

Your eyes are intense as you stare at him, lips parted as your eyes zero in on his half-hard cock. Kyle approaches the bed again, the sweet scent of omega in heat thickening in the air. You reach out for him again, but not for his wrist.

John folds your arms against your chest, shifting the two of you backwards to make room. “Not yet,” he murmurs in your ear. “Let him get settled in.”

Kyle stares down at where the two of you are still connected, your pussy gaping wide around John’s knot. He swallows thickly, his cock twitching to life. He’s careful as he climbs on the bed, not wanting to cause you to shift on John's knot. He lays down face to face with you, a content smile tugging at your lips. The haze is returning, your eyes getting glassy as you tug Kyle closer.

He's not expecting it as you kiss him, wet and sloppy as your tongue traces his lips. Kyle shifts himself closer, his hand settling on your hip as he kisses you back, your mouth wet and hot as his tongue slips inside, dragging against yours.

His hand slowly trails down your hip, fingers gliding across your still warm skin. You moan against his lips as his fingers follow the dip of your hip down closer to your mound. He can feel where John's knot begins, bulging in your pelvis right above your slit. Kyle lets a finger brush your clit and he can feel the way you spasm around John’s knot. John lets out a groan as you tighten around him.

You pull away from his lips with a whine, pressing your face into his neck. Kyle leans up on his elbow, giving you more skin to explore as his fingers trail lower, brushing around your puffy lips to the base of John's cock, the small bit that still sticks out of you. He runs his fingers over the red, almost pulsing skin. John lets out another groan, his hips grinding against your ass. It tugs at the knot inside you, causing you to let out a breathy moan that blows hot against the wet spot you’ve made on his neck. Goosebumps form on his skin as he brushes the underside of John's cock, the alpha pushing his hips against yours again.

Kyle pulls his hand away as pain erupts in the dip where his neck meets his shoulder. “Ow-fuck!” He hisses, jerking away as John sinks his hand into your hair with the arm that's under you, forcing your head back.

Kyle rubs the sore spot on his neck as John chuckles, leaning his head against yours. “She's in a biting mood this time.” He rasps, a satisfied grin pulling at your lips, still shiny with a mix of yours and Kyle’s spit. “Got me at the start, naughty little thing.”

John grinds his hips against you again, your eyes nearly rolling back as you meet his movements, grinding back against him. Kyle can see it, the change beginning to happen. The haze is settling back in, the moment of clarity gone. It's been almost just over a half hour. It can take between 30 minutes to an hour for an alpha's knot to deflate.

“She's so sensitive.” John continues, his lips brushing your cheek. “Can make her cum so easily.”

John's other hand wraps around you, pushing against the bulge in your pelvis. You let out a high pitched whine, your body shaking as you cum around his knot just like that. John curses, eyes squeezing closed as he presses his face against the side of your head. His cock is twitching, his knot tugging on your pussy but you don't seem to care.

“Fuck...” John groans, the sound long and dragged out as his hand leaves your pelvis, sinking into the sheets in front of you.

Kyle sits all the way up, watching curiously as John's cock continues to spasm. Quiet growls leave his lips as his cock begins to soften. His knot is getting smaller and smaller, deflating and releasing its hold on you. John lifts your top leg up over his hips before pulling his cock free. A gush of slick and cum is forced out of you as your walls spasm, slowly relaxing after being forced open for so long.

Kyle can't help himself as he reaches out, gathering some of the viscous cocktail that's gathered on your thigh. It's almost slimy as it coats his fingers, your slick wetter than your normal arousal. Not quite as sticky. John's cum has thickened it, tainting it a milky white color.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” John smirks, watching Kyle rub the mix of their fluids between his fingers. “Give her a minute, she'll be gushing slick again and you can get a taste.”

He's right, you've begun to tremble, the skin of your thigh starting to warm even more where his leg is pressed against yours. Your pussy is fluttering still, pushing the rest of John's cum out.

Kyle can't help himself again as he gathers more of your release on his fingers, pushing it back inside you. You're tight around his fingers despite the fact you had just taken your alpha’s knot. You squeeze around him, slick gushing around his fingers. It coats his hand, warm and wet. He pulls his fingers from you, watching your pussy spasm as more slick seeps out of you, coating your folds and dripping onto the skin of your thigh. Your scent has thickened in the air, making his mouth water. It's going to his head, making his cock throb.

He can understand now why alphas will fight over an omega in heat.

John moves, shifting both of you on the bed until his back rests against your headboard, your body between his legs. He grips you behind your knees, pulling your legs up until you're damn near folded in half. You don't seem to care, panting as sweat begins to bead on your skin. You've gone almost limp, pliable and willing so long as the ache in your core gets relieved.

John's eyes are dark as he stares at Kyle, his fingers digging into your skin. “Well?” He smirks. “Are you going to give her what she wants?”

Kyle's eyes drift between your legs, your pussy spread open before him like a buffet. It’s not a new sight. He’s been between your thighs many times, tasted you on his tongue. Yet it feels different now, because it is different. The situation has changed. He’s not fucking you because you’ve come to him, sought him out to relieve the ache between your legs, the neediness that’s built up the whole day. You’re still needy, still begging, but it’s because you have to. Your body needs to be filled, needs to have an alpha’s knot to ease the ache. Your body wants pups, and so it’s forcing you to the peak of attraction to an alpha. Pheromones thick in the air to drive alphas into their most base state, slick coating your thighs to ease the taking of a knot.

His eyes are glued to you as slick continues to seep out of you, sliding down your ass until it drips onto the sheet below. He’s no alpha, but your pheromones are getting to him, fogging his own mind in need. He’s felt it when he enters to clean, to ensure you’ve eaten and hydrated, that nothing has gone wrong, but the feeling leaves as soon as he’s in the clear air in the hallway. He had thought it was simply the knowledge of what was happening, the sounds from the room and then seeing you and his alpha knotted together. It’s a natural reaction to a beautiful omega naked in front of him.

He understands it now as his mouth goes dry, staring at your shiny pussy. It’s his turn to experience it, his chance to understand firsthand what both you and John go through. He feels the urge to bend down, to taste you, to drink from the source like your slick is the only thing that will ease his thirst.

He bends down, laying flat on the bed so he’s face to face with your weeping slit. The room is silent, even your own panting breaths quiet, waiting in anticipation. He leans forward, pressing his face against your slit. He inhales deeply, his eyes almost fluttering as your pheromones go straight to his brain. They swirl around his synapses before shooting down his spine, seeping into his veins and warming his body. His cock is hard and leaking onto the mattress beneath him, throbbing for some relief. He won't give it any yet, wanting to wait until he at least gets a taste of you.

He drags his tongue through your folds, moaning at the sweet taste of you. There's still a hint of your natural taste under there, but the sweetness of your slick has him burying his face in your folds. He laps at the source, pressing his tongue into your pussy, drinking up your slick like a man starved. His nose presses against your clit, and he inhales the sweet scent of your slit with every breath. Your skin is hot, feverish as his hands slip under you, holding your hips up as he feasts on you desperately. He feels like he's in heat himself, or perhaps as close to a rut as a beta can get. His face is soaked, your slick dripping down his chin, adding to the mess both dry and still wet on the sheets.

You're panting and whining, pushing your hips up against his face desperately. He doesn't care. He'd drown here happily. His nose continues to brush your clit, making you whine all desperate and needy. His cock is throbbing, but he resists the urge to grind against the bed. Not yet.

“Please, please!” You whine, pussy fluttering around his tongue. You are sensitive, nearly to the brink and he's barely touched you.

He presses harder against your clit, a loud moan falling from your lips as you cum around his tongue, sweet slick gushing into his face along with the familiar, tangy taste of your cum. He licks every last drop from your pussy, or at least as much as he can with how your slick is still seeping out of you endlessly.

He lifts himself up from your pussy, meeting John's gaze. John beckons him closer, gripping Kyle's chin as soon as he's within arm’s distance and pulling him against his lips. There’s a low rumble in his chest, the sound shooting straight down Kyle’s spine. It makes him shudder, his cock twitching.

John licks into his mouth, tasting you on his tongue before licking your slick from his face. Kyle can't help but moan, his cock smearing precum against your thigh.

“You want her?” John breathes against his lips. “You want to feel her?”

Kyle breathes out a quiet moan, nodding. “Yes, sir.”

He backs up as John releases your legs, letting you flop onto the bed. He maneuvers out from behind you until you're laying flat on the bed, limp yet willing. You let out a whine, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. He can’t imagine you’re getting any, not with how slick your thighs and pussy are.

John moves off the bed, cock hanging hard and heavy between his thighs. “Present for your beta.” John says, the alpha command strong in his voice as he slaps your ass lightly. “Show him how good of an omega you are.”

You let out a whine, flopping over and shuffling your legs under you. Kyle doesn’t think you’ll be able to do it, given your weak state, but you surprise him. Your upper body is still pressed into the mattress, but your hips lift, slick still drooling out of your pussy. Kyle is nearly drooling himself staring at your puffy lips and soaked skin.

He jumps as John's hand slaps his own ass cheek. “Well, give her what she wants.” His voice is rough, his alpha still slipping out around the edges.

Kyle moves forward almost automatically, obeying the command of his alpha. He shifts so he's kneeling behind you, fisting his cock. It's still hard and throbbing, precum dripping from the tip. He drags the head through your folds, slipping through easily thanks to the slick. He’d understood the importance of slick before from his research for your first heat, but now he’s getting a firsthand demonstration.

His hand closes around your hip, holding you steady as he presses into you with a groan. You’re so hot and wet and tight around him, your pussy fluttering around him like it’s trying to pull him in. Soft, breathy moans slip from your lips, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as he sinks into you completely with one press of his hips. He pauses in surprise as his hips press flush against your ass without even having to work you open. He supposes you’ve been taking John’s not repeatedly, but yet you’re still just as tight around him as he remembers, if not tighter. He shifts forward slightly so his hips are flush with your ass, his eyes following a bead of sweat as it slides down the line of your spine. It’s hot in the room, and you’re hot under his hands, skin burning with the flames of your desperation. He understands can’t give you what you need, not completely, but he can give you a little relief.

He can feel John’s eyes on him as he begins to move, pulling back before sinking back into you. Your pussy seems to have a mind of its own as it flutters around him, letting him pull back before pulsing around him, pulling him back in. He’s fucked you plenty of times, but it’s never felt like this. So slick and warm and responsive. Your body moves in accordance with his movements, pushing and pulling with every thrust of his cock in and out of you. It makes his head spin, his movements starting to pick up speed. There’s no resistance, his cock gliding in and out of your pussy easily.

“Fuck...” He groans, clinging desperately to his sanity as he tries not to cum immediately. You’re whimpering and whining under him, legs already shaking but he can’t tell if it's from the effort of holding yourself up or from your pleasure.

Low growls rumble in John’s throat, the wet sound of him pumping his cock mixing with the wet squelch of your pussy. It’s an obscene chorus, the harmony of moans and growls and the wet sounds of sex. Slick continues to drip out around his cock, smearing on his skin. You’re pushing back weakly against him, moaning and drooling on the sheets. You’re doing what omegas are supposed to do during heats, lay there and take your alpha’s knot over and over in hopes of being bred. You won’t be, you have protections against that, but your brain can’t comprehend that right now. It can’t comprehend much of anything in this state.

You squeeze tightly around him, trembling as you’re thrown into an orgasm. Your walls clench, gripping him like a vice, so tightly he almost can’t move. Slick gushes out around his cock, soaking his pelvis, dripping down his thighs. The sensation is almost heavenly as you spasm around him, almost trying to pull him deeper, coax a knot out of him that he can’t give you.

He starts to grind against you, his vision almost going dark as his own orgasm is forced out of him suddenly, his hands tightening around your hips. You whine as he holds you, hips probably sore from John, but he can’t find it in him to care as he bends over your back, holding your ass flush with his hips. He’s gasping for air, trembling himself from the shared sensation of your orgasm and his own.

It’s almost too much.

Almost.

“You’re not done.” John says, trailing a hand down Kyle’s spine, smearing the sweat that’s broken out across his body. “Give her another.”

Kyle can’t disagree, can’t even ask for a moment to gather his head as he begins moving again, your body sucking him in so tightly he can hardly do more than grind his hips against your ass. You don’t seem to care, needy whines and moans slipping out of your lips.

John’s hand dips between Kyle’s thighs, collecting some of your slick before he presses his finger against Kyle’s hole. Kyle lets out a sound that’s almost a whine of his own at the sensation.

“Open up for me.” His alpha growls, nipping at the skin of his ass cheek. “Be a good boy.”

Kyle nearly cums again, fighting to relax as he continues to fuck you. He bends over you further as John presses a slick covered finger into his ass, a deep groan leaving his throat. You’re still laying there, eyes pinched closed in pleasure as you create a puddle of drool around your mouth. Whisps of hair stick to your face, falling out of the braid Johnny had done for you. He should redo it, keep it in place for the few days still left of your heat.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when John grips his throat, pulling him back upright. John’s finger is still in his ass, moving with the thrusts of his hips. “Gonna make her cum again?” John growls, licking Kyle’s lips. Their kiss is rough and sloppy, spit passing between them as they lick at each other’s mouths.

Kyle groans as John pulls the finger from his ass, gathering more slick before pressing two back in. “Shit,” He curses, his hips stuttering against your ass.

You cum around him again, legs nearly giving out. He clings to your hips, keeping you up. He understands why you carry such nasty looking bruises around your hips after your heat now. It’s not just John’s iron grip, it’s to keep you steady.

“That’s it.” John growls, fucking his fingers into Kyle’s ass, opening him up.

Kyle’s cock twitches in anticipation, his hips driving into your ass to hasten his own orgasm in excitement for what’s coming next.

Kyle’s body does give out as his orgasm slams into him, his hands just barely managing to catch him before he falls into you. Your own body trembles, squeezing around him, milking every last drop. Your legs give out, your body slumping onto the bed. Kyle follows you, keeping his cock inside you. You’re tensed around him, still seeking what he can’t give you. It has to be torture, your body desperate for a knot, for some relief to the pain you must be in, yet Kyle can’t stop. He can’t have mercy on you, not yet.

It’s addicting, the feeling of fucking you during your heat. He gets the insanity alphas seem to be overwhelmed by during an omega’s heat. It’s not just the pheromones driving the mating instinct, not the sweet scent that drives them crazy. The feeling of your body, the way your pussy sucks him in all wet and hot...for a moment he does wish he could knot you, just to feel what it’s like.

John pushes a hand into his back, pressing him fully on top of you. Kyle moves onto his elbows, just preventing you from taking his full weight. You’re hot under him, skin feverish and slicked with sweat. His cheek rests against your damp hair, one of his hands slipping up the bed. He brushes your drool slick skin with his thumb, your shallow gasps pressing your back up against his chest.

“Please....please...” You whine, pushing your ass back against him.

“Easy.” John says, kneeling over both of you on the bed. His hand slips down between your legs, gathering the slick still seeping out around Kyle’s cock.

The wet sound of John smearing your slick on his cock is loud in the silence, Kyle’s cheeks clamping in anticipation. You’re clenching around him, almost begging him to move again, but it won’t be him in control anymore.

Not that he really was in control in the first place.

John presses his tip against Kyle’s hole, the beta pressing his face into your hair as he groans. His own hand grips the sheets as John presses further in, shifting closer to Kyle’s ass as he works himself into the tight passage.

“Fuck...” Kyle whines, grinding his hips against your ass. You whine softly at the sensation, pressing against him as much as you can with their combined weight pinning you down.

“That’s it.” John groans, pressing in further. “Fuck...you can take it.”

John begins moving his hips shallowly, thrusting further and further into Kyle’s ass. Kyle feels a bit like you, unable to do much but lay there and take it as John begins to fuck his ass. John’s thrusts push him into you, his cock grinding into your pussy. Their combined rocking has your clit rubbing against the bed, your eyes rolling in pleasure.

You cum twice around Kyle’s cock as John fucks him, his hips slapping against Kyle’s ass. John's hands grip Kyle’s hips tight enough Kyle might sport bruises of his own after this. Deep growls rumble in John’s chest, echoing almost in time with his thrusts. Kyle feels like whimpering from the combined pleasure of your pussy clenching around him and John’s cock driving into his ass. He can’t think anymore feeling just as out of it as you look.

For a moment Kyle is worried you might have passed out under him, and he lifts himself higher up on his elbows, ready to tap out in concern. You shift under him as he presses up, trying to push yourself up too, arching against Kyle’s chest. He breathes out a quiet sigh of relief as you move, unable to do much still except whine and plead.

“Please, please, please,” You repeat it like a mantra, head bending back as your body spasms, the sweetest moans falling from your lips. “Alpha!”

You cry out for him as slick and fluid gushes out of you, your hips lifting off the bed as you push your ass against Kyle. John lets out an animalistic growl as he picks up the pace, fucking Kyle so hard he nearly sees stars.

“I’ve got you,” John grunts, bending over Kyle’s back. “I’ve got you.”

Kyle can feel it, worry flooding through him for a moment as the base of John’s cock swells, pushing against the ring of his ass. He’s never taken a knot before, never had a chance to. He’s not sure he wants to as the feels the size of it. He might tear in half.

Instead John pulls out of him, grunting as he jerks his cock until he’s spurting his hot cum across Kyle’s ass. You’ve gone limp beneath him again, your only movement the slow push of your hips backwards against him. Kyle gently turns your head so your face isn’t pressed into the mattress. The last thing they need is you accidentally suffocating yourself. He can’t help but wonder if John has enough awareness to do the same, or if suffocation is a fear he should worry about during your heats. He hadn’t even thought of that during your first heat.

John slaps his ass, getting his attention again. “Off.” He says, pushing Kyle to the side.

Kyle gets the memo, his cock sore as he pulls out of you, flopping over to the side. John drags a hand up your back, the motion very soft and intimate compared to the rough fucking you both had just taken. John wraps his arms around you, lifting you up against his chest. You let him move you, limp again in his arms, your head pressing back against his shoulder. Slick still dribbles out of you, mixed with Kyle’s cum.

“Over here. On your back.” John directs Kyle and he moves despite his own exhaustion, laying where you had just been. The bed is wet, the sheets soaked through. Kyle silently thanks whoever created plastic heat protectors for mattresses as he settles on his back.

John lets you flop to the side, Kyle grateful you just miss smacking your head against the wall. You’re staring at him, eyes lidded as you continue to pant. Your hand slips down between your legs, fingers pressing into your pussy despite the fucking you had just taken, the fucking you’ve done since your heat started. John tugs him further down the bed, his knees bent and feet against the footboard. His cock twitches as he waits patiently for what’s going to come next.

John tugs you up, a whine leaving your lips as your fingers are forced out of you. He maneuvers your body into place, kneeling over Kyle’s face. Excitement thrums in his veins as slick dribbles out of you, dripping onto his chin. He licks his lips, dipping his tongue down his chin to try and get a taste of it again.

Kyle feels like he may be in heat as John pushes you forward just slightly, his arms wrapped around your middle as his cock presses into you. His knot has deflated for now, his length slipping easily into your slick pussy. Your hands grip the headboard as John begins to fuck you, holding you up over Kyle’s face. Kyle sticks his tongue out, catching your slick and the remnants of his own cum as John’s thrusts force it out of you. Despite the soreness of his cock it’s twitching back to life, the taste and scent of you on his face nearly driving him over the edge.

You let out the most delicious sounding whines as your alpha finally fucks you, promising you what Kyle can’t: temporary relief from the fire in your veins and the ache between your thighs. A knot. Your legs shake around his head, Kyle’s hands coming up to grip the backs of your knees. He wouldn’t care if you dropped on him. He’d take a broken nose if it meant he’d get to taste your slick from the source again. He could always text Dr. Keller to come and patch him up, though he’d have to tell her how it happened.

He doubts she’d care.

John keeps his hold on you tight though, keeping you up as he fucks into you roughly, the bed shaking from the force of his thrusts. You tremble above Kyle as you cum again, more slick gushing out around John’s cock. It’s obscene from his angle, John’s cock driving into your sopping pussy, slick oozing out around his cock, wetting your thighs and John’s thighs and Kyle’s face. He licks as much as he can from his face, basking in the sweet taste of you raining down over him like manna from heaven.

John groans, his cock twitching as he cums inside you, his hips pressing tight against your ass. Your legs nearly give out again, Kyle’s grip tightening around your thighs instinctively. John pulls out of you, quickly lowering you over Kyle’s mouth. He doesn’t have to say anything as Kyle’s hands slide up to grip your hips, holding you in place as he begins to lick up the slick and cum seeping out of you.

It’s a musky, sweet concoction, savory and sweet on his tongue. John is still holding you up, keeping you steady as you twitch over Kyle, sensitive and dripping all over his face. Your knees squeeze Kyle’s head as you cum again, Kyle having to turn his head to breathe for a moment as you nearly waterboard him with your slick.

Kyle licks every last drop of your cum and John’s. He could lay here, licking your slick all day, but he knows that would be near torture for you. No matter how many times he can make you cum, he can’t give you what you need.

He pushes you up slightly, back into John’s hold. “Do it.” He gasps, taking in deep breaths after nearly being drowned in your slick. “Give her what she needs.”

John pulls you back, backing up slightly as Kyle moves up the bed more. Your slick is still coating his face, dripping down his chin to his neck and chest. John bends you over Kyle’s chest, letting you rest there as you present for your alpha, somehow still able to hold yourself up. Omega instincts he supposes, giving you the strength to present all pretty and dripping for your alpha. Kyle’s fingers brush your burning skin, your entire body soaked in sweat. You’re still rocking your hips, trying to push back against John. How you’re even awake, let alone still moving is a miracle to him. Another wonder of omega biology.

You let out a content sigh as John presses back into you, his hips immediately snapping against your ass as he sets a near brutal pace. He’s been fighting it as well, fighting that urge to knot you as soon as he can. Kyle feels honored, having this opportunity, sharing this moment with the two of you. His research has paled in comparison to seeing it in person. He understands it better now, understands the two of you and how you fit together perfectly in this moment. Your body responds naturally to your alpha’s, pulsing around John’s cock as you seek out his knot. John brings you endless amounts of pleasure, both of you ruled by your instincts which provide you both with an intense stamina.

Kyle doesn't have that stamina, but he doesn’t mind. He can’t even imagine doing this for a day, much less a week. Yet, despite his exhaustion, his cock still continues to twitch, half hard as he holds John’s gaze. His alpha’s eyes are dark, focused and intense. Growls leave his lips, rumbling through his chest. You answer with your own whines, only driving the animalistic instincts within you both. You’re lost in your heat now, just as John is lost in his rut, only bordering on awareness because of Kyle’s presence.

Had Kyle not been in here, he knows John would have had you in this position for the next hour, fucking you relentlessly until he could finally knot you and bring both of yourselves a little relief. Kyle would have stayed out in the hallway for a while, letting you both rest and John care for you until he decided it was time to check on you both and clean things up a little.

You’re both close. He can tell by the way you shake over him, hands pushing into his chest as you try to lift yourself up, fingers scratching at his skin, but they can’t get enough of a grip to hurt. John is close too, deep growls rumbling in his chest as he pulls back into his thrusts. His knot must be swelling, pushing against your entrance.

“Please...Please alpha!!” You cry, trying to push back against him. “Need it!”

“Need that?” John growls, grinding against you. “Need my knot?”

“Please!” You whine pathetically, writhing over Kyle.

He wants to watch, he wants to see John’s knot push into you, spread you open, push in until you’re locked in place. “Let me see.” He breathes, still holding John’s gaze. “Let me see it.”

John understands even in his hazy state, bending down to lift you back up against his chest. Kyle can see it, his swollen knot pushing against your pussy with every thrust of his hips. You’re crying, begging incoherently for it, trying to push down on it.

“Shhhh,” John shushes you, his lips brushing your cheek. “Alpha’s got you.”

The words nearly have Kyle cumming again, his balls tightening as John reassures you, promises you he’ll give you what you need. Your neck bends back, your head pushing against John’s shoulder as he begins to lower you while pushing his hips up, fighting the natural resistance as his knot spreads you open. The slight tapering of it makes it easier, easing your pussy open in preparation for the widest part. You’re shaking, body almost spasming as he presses his knot into you, your pussy spread almost impossibly wide as he slips all the way in, groaning as he locks in place inside you. Kyle can see your pussy spasm, your eyes rolling back as you cum again around him, the last bit of slick dribbling out of you before the rest is trapped inside you by your alpha’s knot.

John doesn’t let you drop this time, instead lowering you down gently against Kyle’s chest, moving with you. The dark intensity of his eyes has lessened, softening back into the blue he recognizes. John gently moves you off Kyle’s chest, shifting to the side so you’re lying next to the beta. Kyle turns onto his side facing the two of you, his body covered in slick and sweat and your drool. The heaviness of your combined scents has faded a bit in the air, not quite as intense as it had been even just moments ago.

He’s breathing heavily, almost as heavily as the two of you. You’ve fallen unconscious, or at least you look like you have as you lay there limply, eyes closed, sweaty with drool still wet on your chin. “Thank you.” He says, his gaze meeting John’s again. “Thank you for letting me do this.”

The corners of John’s lips pull up in a smile. “I’m glad you got to experience it. I doubt she’d complain if you wanted to stay.” He says, trailing his fingers down your arm. You twitch just slightly, and Kyle can imagine how overstimulated you must be from everything.

Kyle breathes out a laugh, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I could handle much more.”

John does smile now, his eyes flickering downwards. “One more?”

Kyle swallows as John reaches for his throbbing cock, nodding in agreement. He shifts slightly closer as John’s warm hand wraps around his length, his thumb teasing Kyle’s leaking slit. Kyle sighs softly, his cock sensitive from the intense fucking it had just experienced. He’s gone for longer, but it hadn’t been like this. You squeezing around him, tightening like a vice as you came, sucking him in as your body searched for a knot.

John begins to move his hand, pumping Kyle’s cock. He won’t last much longer, nearly burning with overstimulation and sensitivity.

“Fuck, fuck.” He curses softly, eyes squeezing closed as his balls tighten, the wet thwack of his cock filling the air. It’s damp still from your slick and the mixture of his cum and John’s.

He cums with a moan, spilling on his chest and the bed. He’s surprised there’s anything left, a whimper leaving his lips as John continues to move his hand, working him through his orgasm. John squeezes the base of his cock before releasing him, lifting his hand to Kyle’s face. Kyle licks the bit of his cum that leaked onto John’s thumb before leaning into his touch.

“Good boy.” John praises, his eyes hooded with exhaustion.

The base of Kyle’s spine tingles from his alpha’s praise, but he can’t even bring himself to think about getting hard again, much less actually doing it.

You let out a soft sound, your eyes cracked open as you stare up at Kyle. He meets your gaze, surprised to see you still conscious. Your hand lifts weakly, thumb pressing against Kyle’s lips before it falls back to the bed. “Pretty.”

Both Kyle and John chuckle as you drift back out of it, John keeping one arm tucked under you, the other reaching over to pull Kyle closer. He should get up, grab you all electrolyte drinks and nutrition bars but he can’t quite get his body to move. Instead he lays there, staring at you both as you drift in and out of sleep during your quick moment of relief and clarity. John is purring quietly, the sound so different to the deep, animalistic growls that had just been rumbling in his chest.

You’ll be back at it soon, needy and desperate to fuck like you haven’t been for almost two straight days. There’s still at least three more days to go, four if you’re unlucky. Then he’ll have to worry about things after your heat ends. It had been rough the first time, and he can imagine it will be again, especially with the week you had before your pre-heat started. He’ll call Dr. Keller again after it’s over, let her come and help you, make sure everything is alright. He doubts anything will go wrong, that John would let anything happen to you.

“Alpha’s got you.”

The words still ring in his head. The sincerity, the promise in them. He really does have control, he does make sure you’re safe and well cared for, he does catch you when you fall. Not just during your heat, but outside of it. The difference between John and Simon is only getting clearer as you begin to bond with the pack’s second alpha.

John is the caretaker, the comforter whose strength comes from his heart and his emotional control. The one who can stay calm and lead even in the most dire situations. He’s seen it in the pack, and he’s seen it out in the field. His dominance is soft and he’s only harsh when the need arises.

Simon is the protector. He’s rough around the edges, a man of action not comforting words. A clear minded leader, but one well versed in raw power and violence. He’s abrasive and standoffish, yet fiercely protective of those he deems his.

They can see it the most now with you. John is the one you turn to when you need comforting words and to be held. Simon is the one who looms like a protective shadow, a silent threat behind you.

Yet he can see the softening around Simon’s harsh edges, those walls he’s built up since you arrived crumbling down around the two of you. It’s not just in his physical acceptance of you, but the mental acceptance of you being a part of the pack, you being a part of him.

He hopes Simon does do it. He hopes Simon will claim you someday, let you bring together both halves of the pack completely. He knows Simon wants to. Johnny has talked about the yearning, the stares, the lingering. You’d let him. You probably want him to yourself. Yet he knows Simon will hold off, torture himself with it until he has no choice but to give in.

It’s a pattern, a fatal flaw of his.

It will happen eventually though. They all know it.

It’s quiet. Has been for nearly an hour. It’s been a while since he’s checked on you both, forcing a nutrient bar into John’s hands as Kyle sat by the bed feeding you one. Neither of you had been interested in eating, but had begrudgingly chewed the indistinguishable dried mush of nutrient-rich foods shaped into a bar. Kyle had tried a bite of one just to see what it was like.

It wasn’t good.

He had taken it as a sign the end was near. The thumping of the bed against the wall had slowed, losing the ferocity with which it had steadily thump-thump-thumped against the wall for the last five days. Even the moans and groans and growls have quieted, and the breaks between rounds have gotten longer and longer.

He gets off his cot, padding silently to the door. He opens it, slipping in before closing it quietly. You and John are cuddled together on the bed. You’re shivering, the blanket he’d folded and draped over the footboard five days ago is draped over you both.

Kyle steps up to the bed, John’s eyes opening. He looks tired, eyes slightly red and bags hanging heavy under them. You both have to be exhausted, physically and mentally. He presses his hand to your forehead, a soft whine leaving your lips. John gently shushes you, tightening his hold around you. Your temperature is considerably lower than it has been, even a few hours ago. Kyle lifts the blanket for a moment, checking the two of you. John’s knot has deflated and the only thing still leaking out of you is a mixture of leftover slick and John’s cum.

“I’ll go start the bath.” Kyle says, letting the blanket drape over you again.

He heads into your bathroom, starting the water in the tub. He waits until it gets warm before putting the stopper in, letting it fill. He opens the cabinet under the sink, pulling out the epsom salt Dr. Keller recommended to help with the soreness. He’s used it himself, the few times he’s had a bath in the last few years, mostly after missions when he’s been particularly sore, bruised and aching after taking a beating physically and mentally. He’d used lavender scented salts to try and calm his mind, but he’d chosen to go with unscented for your heat, knowing the added scent may confuse you. You’ll need your alpha’s scent close to ground you in the disoriented state you’ll be in for the next couple hours.

He pours some salt into the bath, stirring it with his hand until it’s dissolved. He seals the bag, slipping it back in the cupboard before pushing himself to stand. He heads back into your room, pulling the blanket back again before helping John off the bed. They try not to disturb you too much, John flinching at the whine you let out as his warmth disappears. Kyle knows he doesn't want to leave you, but you both need the bath to help with the sore muscles and keep them from locking up after so long. You also need it to help with the sudden drop in your temperature.

Kyle eases John into the warm water, helping him sit in the tub. He wishes it was a bigger tub as his alpha’s long legs bend at the knees, unable to stretch out completely. They’ll want a longer, deeper tub in the seaside cottage you’ve dreamed of. Maybe one with jacuzzi jets. Kyle turns off the water, John leaning back against the tile wall, his eyes half closed.

Kyle pushes himself up to stand after a moment, heading back to the bed to get you. You’re shivering, letting out quiet whines as you search out your alpha in your confusion and disorientation.

“I know, I know.” He tries to soothe you, projecting his beta scent into the air. It won’t be enough, but it at least offers up some comfort in your state. You still need your alpha even though your heat is over.

He scoops you up, wincing as you whine in pain, but he knows it’s necessary. You need the warm water to help keep you stable, and a moment with your alpha to help get you grounded.

He eases you into the tub, John’s legs parting to make room for you as Kyle settles you against his chest. Your alpha wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly as you whimper softly. Kyle makes sure the two of you are settled before getting back up, ensuring the towels are ready before heading back into your room.

He pulls the sheet off your bed, crusty and still slightly damp from the week of near nonstop fucking. He knows some of those crusty spots are his own cum, yet he still can’t quite believe it really happened. He’s spent the last few days thinking about it, pinching himself to remind himself it wasn’t a dream. He really did get to experience some of your heat.

He can’t get the image of John’s knot pressing into you, your puffy, slick pussy spreading wide around it. The way your body shuddered, the relieved moan as you finally got what you wanted, what you needed. It was a beautiful sight, and he wishes he had Johnny’s talent so he could paint it and keep it forever.

He bundles your clothes in the sheet along with the blanket to take them to the wash, cleaning up the wrappers and bottles and adding them to the trash bag he’d started. He pulls the plastic heat protector from the bed, balling it into another trash bag. He packs the bundle of laundry to the laundry room, starting the washer before taking the two bags of trash out and stuffing them in the bin to get picked up later this week. He wouldn’t be surprised if one of them goes missing, some young, desperate alpha pulling it out to jerk off to your scent.

It makes his nose scrunch up in disgust.

He heads back to your room, pulling the clean sheets out of the top of your closet, remaking the bed. He puts your comforter back on the bed, folding your blankets and putting them at the end of the bed. He stacks your pillows and stuffed animals back in place as much as he can remember, though he knows you’ll remake your nest later once you’re more aware. Right now it’s important you be surrounded by the comfort of familiar scents.

He makes sure everything is as back in place as it can be, pulling a shirt out of your closet for you to change into once you’re out of the bath. He’s not quite sure whose it is, the only smell coming off it is the scent of laundry detergent. It’s soft after being washed quite a few times, likely one of the first you got from them, or at least one you’d stolen early on. You’d cut the tags out, something you’ve done with almost all of your clothes. He can’t blame you. If he could, he would do the same.

He heads back into the bathroom once everything looks as back to normal as it can, kneeling next to the tub.

“How do you feel?” John asks.

Kyle nearly laughs at the question. He should be the one asking him that, but of course John would be worried about the rest of his pack before himself. “Not bad.” He answers. “Tired, but nothing compared to how you have to be feeling right now.”

John huffs out a laugh, gently stroking your hair as you whimper softly. He’s taken it out of the braid, managing to untangle it a little. “This is the hardest part, I think.”

Kyle nods. “I can imagine.” He grabs a washcloth, squirting some of your strawberry scented soap onto it before he begins gently scrubbing your skin, attempting to get some of the dried fluids off.

“Fucking nonstop for days in a lust induced haze is easy.” John says, shifting you slightly so Kyle can reach more of your skin. “It’s coming down from it, when you start to feel the effects of fucking for days nearly nonstop that it really starts to settle in. The aches, the pains, the exhaustion from almost no sleep, the hunger, the thirst.” He shakes his head. “Maybe I’m just old.”

Kyle makes a face. “You are getting up there.”

John gives him a playful glare, shaking his head. His face softens as he looks at Kyle, dutifully cleaning up after their five day instinct-induced haze. “Thank you, for earlier. Giving her what she wanted.”

Kyle nods. “Of course. Couldn’t turn down a chance to experience it, and I wouldn’t want to leave you with an upset omega during her heat.”

John snorts quietly. “I doubt she’d have been upset for long. Probably doesn’t remember most of it.”

Kyle hums, John helping him get you sitting up so he can rinse your back and attempt to get some of the dirt and fluids out of your hair. A part of him knows that’s true, but a part of him hopes you will remember at least some of it. He’ll never forget it, his mouth watering slightly as the memories of your slick on his tongue, dripping onto his face. John fucking you over him, letting you drip all over him. It may be a bit selfish of him, but he wants to experience that over and over, every time you sit on his face, every time he fucks you, every time John fucks you in front of him.

Kyle helps hold you up, wincing at your whines both in pain and from the loss of your alpha’s touch as he scrubs the dried slick off of his skin. The water is murky from the mix of soap, slick, and cum coming off of you both. The water is starting to get cold as he rinses John’s hair, making sure to get the soap off of you both.

“Ready?” He asks, reaching down to pull the plug.

“No.” John says, lips tugging up in a half smile, likely all he can manage in his exhausted state. “But the bed is more comfortable than the tub.”

Kyle grins at him, slipping his hands under your arms, and with the help of John, he gets you standing. John twitches at your whine of protest, Kyle holding you up as he tries to towel you off as much as he can. The dryer he can get you, the less cold you’ll be once you’re back in bed. You’re still shivering despite the bath, your face pressing against Kyle’s chest in search of any warmth you can get.

Kyle scoops you up, carrying you to the bed. You let out a whine as he eases you down onto the edge of the bed, but he shushes you gently, quickly drying your hair as much as he can. He pulls the shirt over your head, pulling your arms though the holes before shifting you to the head of the bed. He pulls the comforter over you, letting you sink into the softness of your stuffed animals before he heads back to the bathroom.

John has gotten himself standing, leaning against the wall as he dries himself with the other towel. Kyle drapes one of his arms over his shoulder, helping guide him back to the bed, lowering him onto the edge. He finishes drying John off before he grabs a pair of boxers from your dresser. He’s not sure whose they are either, but they fit decently enough for now.

He helps John under the covers with you, his arms wrapping around you. You immediately gravitate towards him, pressing against his chest. John holds you tightly, shushing your quiet whimpers.

“Here.” He passes John an electrolyte drink. “Keep hydrating yourself. I’ll go scrounge up some real food.”

“You’re a good man, Kyle.” John says. “A good beta.”

“Thank you, sir.” Kyle says, looking over the two of you again before leaving the room in search of food.

You’re crying when he returns.

He’s expecting it this time, less shocked by your shuddering breaths and quiet sobs. John has shifted you both, his back against the headboard, your body curled up between his legs. There’s a stack of blankets wrapped around you, and one of your stuffed bears clutched tightly against your chest. John is purring softly, the sound vibrating in his chest as he tries to soothe you through the disorientation and sudden drop in hormones as you become more aware.

“I let Dr. Keller know.” Kyle says, setting the tray of food down on the nightstand. “She’ll be here soon. Wants to do a quick checkup.”

“Fine with me.” John says, shifting you just slightly so he can set the tray in his lap. You let out a whimper at being moved, John’s purr intensifying until you settle again. “I’m starving.” He says, picking up the fork.

“Johnny went and picked up lunch.” Kyle says, pulling your desk chair over to sit next to the bed.

John chews the bite of food in his mouth. “How are they?”

A smile tugs at Kyle’s lips. “Holding up. Johnny’s got a noticeable limp to his step.”

John lets out a quiet chuckle. “I’d imagine so. Might have to mark him down as a casualty.”

“I don’t think he’d complain.” Kyle says. “I can’t imagine any of us will be doing much for the next few days.”

John shakes his head. “Definitely not. You and Simon are probably in the best shape. You’ll have to hold down the fort.”

“We’ll do our best.” Kyle says.

John eats his food eagerly, managing to get a couple bites of potato and some peas into your mouth. You’re aware enough to chew them a few times, probably not wanting to eat in your current state, but your body knows you need to. He’s glad omegas have the drive to eat as much as they can before their heats. You might not survive if you didn’t. Not on those nutritional bars.

Kyle takes the tray once John is finished, setting it on your desk for now. He’ll give it to Johnny to take back when they go for dinner. John adjusts you against his chest again, resting his chin on your head as he goes through his emails and messages. You shift in his arms, pressing your face into his neck, your tears sliding down his skin. He rubs your back, keeping you pinned against him as he quietly purrs, trying to soothe you. It hurts them both that he can’t, but Kyle knows it’s a natural response. He doesn’t blame you. It must be so jarring not remembering, and all the physical things changing so rapidly, and adding on top of that the pain? He’d probably cry too.

The knock at the door is soft and quiet, yet you still startle at it, jumping slightly in John's arms. He gently shushes you as a whimper chokes out through the tears.

Kyle lets Dr. Keller in, closing the door behind her. The soft scent of beta fills the room, Dr. Keller doing her best not to startle you further in your disoriented state. John shifts you slightly so she can see you better. You let out a whine of indignation at being moved, the quiet purr still rumbling in John's chest.

Dr. Keller sets her bag on the floor before kneeling next to the bed. “Hi honey.” She says, opening up her bag. “Still pretty out of it, huh.”

The tears continue to cascade down your cheeks, your eyes barely open as you stare at her. You’re still leaning heavily against John’s chest, unable to hold yourself up. Dr. Keller brushes the hair away from your face before taking your temperature, holding the digital thermometer up to your forehead.

She glances at the screen when it beeps, her brows furrowing just slightly. “A little low,” She says, putting the thermometer back in the bag. “But not concerning.”

John maneuvers you again, pulling an arm free from the blankets so she can check your blood pressure and pulse.

“How did things go this time?” She asks, placing the blood pressure cuff around your arm.

“Better.” John responds. “Smoother.”

“Easier now that we know what to expect.” Kyle says.

“Good.” Dr. Keller says, taking your pulse and blood pressure. “Heart rate and blood pressure are normal.” She puts the monitors back into the bag, pulling out a pill bottle. “Muscle relaxers, same as last time. Her temperature is a little low, but that could just be a response to such a rapid drop in body temperature as well as changes in her hormones. If she starts feeling cold to the touch, or her extremities start turning blue, get her to emergency.” She zips up her bag, pushing herself up to stand. She gives John a pointed look. “Take care of yourself too. I recommend ice packs.”

A smile quirks John’s lips, but he doesn't offer any arguments or disagreements. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

Kyle already knows he’s going to be sent for ice packs soon.

Dr. Keller turns to face him, giving him a soft smile. Kyle hasn’t had many interactions with your doctor, most of them being during your heat and after. Yet, he can’t help but feel comforted by her presence. Maybe it’s her ability to project her scent so much, enough to make even him feel relaxed, or maybe it’s just her calm demeanor, the way she always seems to be so confident and in control.

“Same thing as last time. Check for blood, if she’s still unresponsive or refusing food after a couple of hours, call me.” She says. “You did a good job, again. You should be proud.”

Kyle smiles. “I am. Thank you, doctor.”

He sees her out of the barracks, standing in the cool air for a moment before he closes the door, heading back to your room.

You’re tucked against John’s chest again, curled up as tight as you can. John has shuffled down the headboard a bit, relaxing back against your pillows. You’re still crying, but it’s been reduced to mostly sniffles. He steps up to the bed, running a hand over your head. He wants to braid your hair again, keep it from tangling but he wouldn’t dare move you right now. His hand moves lower, wrapping around John’s wrist, his thumb brushing his alpha’s skin for a moment.

“You should go do something.” John says, eyes half closed. “Get out of here and take a break for a bit. We’ll be fine. Going to take a long nap.”

A smile tugs at Kyle’s lips. He loves moments like this, when his Captain, his alpha is sleepy. He’s softer, the usual sternness that paints his face gone, his shoulders relaxed. It’s partially due to the pain he has to be in, and the exhaustion after the last five days beginning to hit him now that your heat has passed. Kyle squeezes his wrist for a moment before letting go. He’s a bit unsure of what he should do, after standing watch and taking care of the two of you for almost a week. It feels strange to leave now, especially with the two of you so vulnerable.

John’s hand wraps around his wrist before he can move away, and he turns to look back at his alpha. “Grab me an ice pack first.”

Kyle’s lips tug up in a smirk. “Of course, sir.”

He heads to the rec room, pulling one of the larger ice packs out of the freezer before heading back to your room. He doesn’t bother closing your door this time, letting the room air out just a bit as he goes to your bathroom. He grabs a hand towel from under your sink before wrapping it around the ice pack. He pushes the cabinet door closed with his foot before heading back into your room.

He pulls the stack of blankets and your comforter up just enough to slip it underneath, feeling blindly as he situates it against John’s crotch. The alpha lets out a quiet sigh as he settles the ice pack in place, the cold already beginning to sink through the towel.

“Thank you.” He says to Kyle, eyes half open as he stares up at his beta.

“Get some sleep.” Kyle says, tucking the blankets around the both of you before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

He stares at his cot, knowing he should start cleaning up, but he’s tired himself. He feels the urge to lay down again, but instead he heads for the laundry room, switching over the laundry.

He stands in the middle of the hallway once he’s done, staring down one side towards the rec room. He could always sprawl out on the couch and turn on some daytime TV show and pass out there. It wouldn't be too terribly uncomfortable compared to the cot he’s spent the last five days on.

He turns his head down the other side of the hallway, glancing toward Simon’s office. They have yet to show their faces, not since they left to grab lunch. He wonders if they’ve even returned, or if they chose to stay away for the time being. He chews on his lip for a moment before making his decision, turning down the hallway towards Simon’s office.

The scent of alpha is strong down the hallway, the musky scent a relief after the sweet scent that’s permeated his thoughts. He doesn’t mind your scent usually, but after five days of the intoxicating sweetness, he needs a break. He needs something fresher, something...different.

He pauses at the door, hesitating for a moment. He could use some company for a while. He’s been alone with his thoughts far too much. He takes the plunge, knocking on the door. There’s no immediate response, which he was expecting.

“Just me.” He says, pressing close to the door as he waits.

“Enter.” Simon’s gruff voice finally says, Kyle just catching it through the door. He might not have heard it if he hadn’t been so close.

Kyle turns the knob, opening the door. The scent of sex and the thick musk of alpha hits him like a train as he leans into the office. Simon is seated on the edge of one of the cots, mask off and pants flung onto the floor by his desk. Johnny is on his knees between Simon’s legs, a distinct choking sound coming from his throat.

Simon releases Johnny’s head, letting him pull back from his alpha’s cock. He takes in deep gulps of air, his hand still wrapped around Simon’s hard length. Kyle leans against the doorway, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk.

“They’re done and cleared, whenever you’re ready.” He tells them.

Simon grips Johnny’s mohawk, still looking at Kyle as he pushes Johnny’s head towards his cock again. “We’re not quite done here yet.”

“Looks that way.” Kyle says, and he can’t help the stirring in his pants as Johnny takes Simon back into his mouth.

A smirk tugs at Simon’s lips as he stares at the other beta. “Want to lend a helping hand? Give poor Johnny a break?”

Kyle’s throat goes dry at the idea, his eyes flickering to where Johnny has Simon in the back of his throat, lips wide around the alpha’s thick cock. Kyle can’t help but wonder how many times he’s been in that position over the last few days. Johnny lets out a whine as Simon pushes him deeper, his nose almost pressed against the light hair at the base of Simon’s cock.

“Fuck.” Kyle groans, closing the door behind him.

Simon wraps his fingers around Kyle’s arm as soon as he’s close, yanking him down so hard Kyle almost falls against him. Kyle has a clear view of Johnny sucking on his alpha’s cock, bobbing his head on the massive length from this angle. Simon’s hand is tight around his forearm, holding him still as he presses his nose against Kyle’s throat. A deep growl rumbles in his chest, his teeth nipping at Kyle’s skin.

Of course. Kyle hadn’t showered or changed clothes after he left your room.

He smells like you.

Simon’s hips buck up, Johnny letting out a strangled gag before he pulls back off of Simon’s cock.

“Fucking christ.” Johnny chokes out, coughing after getting hit in the back of the throat by Simon’s cock. “Gonnae kill me.”

Simon doesn’t pay him any mind, his tongue too busy trailing Kyle’s throat, as if he could lick every inch of your scent from his skin. There’s a low rumbling vibrating in Simon’s chest, his grip tight around Kyle’s arm.

Kyle’s own cock is throbbing, almost as much as it had upon seeing slick drip out of your pussy. Simon lets out a growl before releasing Kyle’s arm, gripping him around the back of his neck. Kyle lets out a quiet moan as Simon forces him down on his knees next to Johnny. The alpha stands from the cot, towering over them as his hard cock nearly throbs in their faces.

He stares down at them, his eyes dark with lust. It’s not unlike how John’s eyes had looked when he was lost to his rut.

“Such pretty boys.” Simon rasps, running a hand over each of their heads.

Johnny purrs, leaning into his touch. Kyle feels the beginnings of a purr rising in his chest, his beta pleased by the large alpha’s praise.

Kyle turns to face Johnny, gripping his fellow beta’s chin. He turns Johnny to look at him, that gleam in his eyes and stupid grin he gets when he’s subby on his face. Kyle leans forward, licking Johnny’s lips, silently conveying what he wants. Johnny responds immediately, opening his mouth to Kyle. Kyle drags his tongue along Johnny’s, tasting the familiar muskiness of Simon’s cum.

They’ve been at this for a while.

Johnny moans needily, his lips closing around Kyle’s tongue, sucking it into his mouth. Kyle groans, pressing his lips to Johnny’s, kissing him deeply.

“Fucking hell.” Simon groans, fisting his throbbing cock as he stares down at the two betas making out in front of him.

Drool drips down their chins, Kyle’s mind flashing back to the drool that had dripped out of your mouth, pooling on his chest. His cock throbs and he presses closer to Johnny, holding his face still as he licks the spit from Johnny’s skin.

Simon groans, watching them. “If you two don’t get back to what you’re supposed to be doing...”

Johnny grins playfully, both of them turning to face Simon with shiny faces. Simon’s cock is hard and angry looking as he holds it out for them, waiting patiently. Kyle slides his hand down Simon’s cock, replacing the alpha’s hand as he grips the base. Johnny and Kyle both lean forward, dragging their tongues down the sides of Simon’s cock, tracing the veins popping out. Simon groans as they work their way back towards his head, their tongues meeting at the tip. Their tongues swirl over the engorged head, flicking along his slit to gather the precum dripping from the tip of his cock.

They pull away for a moment, Johnny licking the fluid from Kyle’s mouth before they kiss again, Kyle’s hand pumping Simon’s length. Kyle’s free hand sinks into Johnny’s mohawk, tugging him away from his lips. His hand is still pumping Simon’s cock as he guides Johnny back towards his alpha, Johnny’s mouth opening eagerly. Kyle guides Simon’s thick length into Johnny’s mouth again, using his grip on Johnny’s hair to move him along Simon’s cock.

Johnny takes more and more of Simon into his mouth, choking slightly as Simon’s head pushes against his tongue. His throat has to be sore after this last week, but not nearly as much as his poor ass. Kyle pushes Johnny all the way onto Simon’s cock, the beta’s nose pressing into the hair around Simon’s cock. Johnny gags, his hands pressing against Simon’s thick thighs before Kyle pulls him off his alpha’s cock.

Kyle quickly replaces him, licking Johnny’s saliva off the thick length before taking Simon’s cock into his mouth. He relaxes his throat, bobbing his head lower and lower on Simon’s cock. He’s always impressed by the alpha’s size, his own cock throbbing at the memory of John’s cock, the knot pressing right against his rim.

Simon’s knot must be damn near colossal.

Kyle presses down until he can feel it, Simon’s cock pushing on the back of his tongue. He pulls off of Simon’s cock, pumping the length for a moment as he breathes. Johnny takes his place again, sucking on Simon’s tip as Kyle cups Simon’s balls in his hand. Simon groans, a growl still rumbling in his chest as your scent still lingers in the air.

“Gonna cum for us, alpha?” Kyle says, squeezing Simon’s balls gently.

“Fuck...” Simon groans, the word long and drawn out.

Kyle and Johnny switch places, Johnny fondling Simon’s balls as Kyle takes Simon’s cock in his mouth again. Simon reaches down, cupping the back of Kyle’s head as he begins to thrust into his mouth, the tangy precum dripping onto Kyle’s tongue telling him everything he needs to know. The alpha is close, his thick length twitching against Kyle’s tongue. Johnny massages Simon’s balls, holding onto them as Simon continues to fuck Kyle’s mouth, the beta suctioning around the alpha as best he can.

Simon pulls out of Kyle’s mouth, pumping his cock rapidly as he cums, his seed spurting out and landing on Kyle and Johnny’s faces. Kyle licks the salty cum from his lips, wiping the bits from his face with his fingers before sucking them into his mouth. He leans over, dragging his tongue over Johnny’s skin, gathering the rest of Simon’s cum.

Simon is breathing heavily as he watches Kyle lick Johnny clean before they kiss again, passing Simon’s cum back and forth on their tongues. Simon moans, squeezing around the base of his cock, trying to keep himself from getting hard again as he watches the two betas.

“Screamin’ Jesus.” Johnny groans as Kyle licks his lips one last time before swallowing down Simon’s cum. “Never gonnae tire of that.”

“Such a good boy.” Simon praises, running a hand over Kyle’s head. “A reward for taking such good care of our alpha and omega.”

Kyle grins, practically preening from the alpha’s praise.

They have no idea.

NEXT ->

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @protokosmonaut

@fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites

@kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos

@konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13

@anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry

@red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving

@slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01

@heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006

@sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164

@mirzamsaiph @xlxnq @chickennn-soupp

#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #poly 141 x reader #John price x reader #captain price x reader #Kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #John soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #omegaverse

2K notes · View notes

bucksangel · 2 months

Text

run little bunny

pairing: softdark!ceo!bucky x naive!assistant!reader

word count: 8.6k

summary: Being John Walker’s assistant is hard; he’s mean, disrespectful, misogynistic, the whole nine yards. On top of that, he hardly pays you fairly. So, when you’re fired for a mistake you’re sure wasn’t your fault, you’re at risk of being kicked out by your rude roommates. Luckily for you, James Barnes, a wildly successful CEO, has found his way into your life. And he’s going to take such good care of you.

warnings: where do i even start, 18+, minors DNI and i fucking mean it, mild coercion, some of it could be interpreted as stalking, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, sir kink, oral (f receiving), housewife kink, breeding kink, pet names (bunny, darling), dirty talk, dom!bucky and sub!reader, choking, squirting, basically just absolute filth, a little hurt-comfort, reader’s roommates are awful and mean, not john walker friendly but when am i ever

a/n: so this was supposed to just be some quick smut but as always i went overboard, so please enjoy! likes and comments are appreciated, reblogs are even better!

tip jar | main masterlist | ao3 | run little bunny masterlist

Your hands are shaking slightly, your heartbeat races with anxiety, and your leg bounces rapidly. Today is an important day after all, and your boss has made it clear that if you mess up in any way then he’d have to rethink your employment. That sent dread flooding through your body, so you’ve been preparing yourself for the last week to make sure everything for the meeting is perfect.

And, on the technical side, everything is immaculate - mostly due to you staying up until almost midnight each night to polish the presentation. You thought everything was done properly, but when you’d walked into the building that morning your boss was holed up in his office finishing up his portion of the work, so you’d decided to simply email him to let him know that you had arrived.

Everything was perfect. But when you get into the meeting room, your boss’ eyes go wide, anger clouding them while he scowls. You quickly make your way to his side, only for him to bark out a command for you to grab water for his incoming guests. Placing your notebook on the table, you turn to scurry off to the side to grab the glasses, but you’re stopped when your boss grabs your arm harshly.

“Do you have a change of clothes?”

“Um… Um, I-“ Your boss raises an eyebrow, and you feel like you might throw up from the sudden anxiety. “No, sir.”

He scoffs, muttering under his breath something about looking “trashy,” before releasing you and allowing you to go to the minibar.

Your arm stings, no doubt sporting a red mark because of how harsh the grip was. You’re also confused because you thought the floral dress you’d chosen was pretty. Sure, it may not be high class, but your boss has never had a problem with it before, but you’re assuming that he’s on edge due to who he’s meeting with.

James Barnes; the most powerful and successful CEO in the entire country. You haven’t met him personally, but from what you hear you know that he’s not someone you want to upset. According to the hushed whispers around the office, he stands at a towering 6’6, tattoos cover his arms and hands, and if he frowns then you better move out of the way.

Would Mr. Barnes be upset with your attire?

You desperately hope not, because you need this job. While you can barely make your rent and utilities, you don’t have any other job lined up, and you’re way too scared to ask for a raise from a man who so clearly disrespects you. For right now, though, you’re stuck.

The oak doors open, and one of the office assistants steps off to the side while holding the door open for several men to walk in. You hear him before you see him. You’ve never heard his voice, but the commanding tone he uses when he addresses your boss lets you know that it must be him.

“Hello, Mr. Walker,” Mr. Barnes greets him, and you can hear your boss stand and greet him as well.

You’re trying your hardest to keep calm while you walk toward the table with a platter holding several glasses of water. You do your best to place them in front of the men without showing how nervous you are.

But when you get to Mr. Barnes, you nearly spill the drink all over the table once you get a whiff of his clearly expensive cologne. Oh, how you’d love to be surrounded by that scent, the woodsy smell almost intimidates you but you’re unsure as to why you don’t mind.

You’ve never done anything even remotely sexual with a man, you’re far too awkward and anxious in a way that isn’t too appealing to many, but for a very brief moment, you wonder what he looks like underneath the black three-piece suit — the prominent veins on his hands insinuates that the rest of his body is probably just as toned. But you’re immediately snapped out of your thoughts by your boss’ harsh voice calling your name.

“Aren’t you going to greet our guests?”

You breathe in sharply, heat flooding your face as you stumble your way through an apology and a polite “Hello, Mr. Barnes.”

You’re about to leave his side when he reaches out to grasp your hand — surprisingly gentle for such a powerful man. With a slight jump, you glance over to your boss who’s staring at you as though you’re becoming a nuisance and should quickly get back to your chair beside his. But you can’t, both because of Mr. Barnes’ hold and the fact that when you look back at the man in front of you his ocean-blue eyes pull you in, and you’re unable to break your gaze.

“And who might you be, darling?” His eyes twinkle with mischief but you’re too blind to see it, you’re too flustered to really focus.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about her, she’s just –”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Mr. Barnes snaps, briefly glancing at your boss and not bothering to hide his smirk when he almost visibly cowers. “Now, darling,” he continues, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “What’s your name?”

You nearly squeak, having to force yourself to tell him your name before he gets upset with your lack of answer.

Mr. Barnes hums, then brings your hand up so he can place a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You flounder for a moment, unsure as to what to make of the compliment. You don’t have much time to overthink it because this meeting has a time limit and you’re sure your boss would prefer to get this over with.

“Th-Thank you, sir.” You’re not sure why, but your voice is breathy because something about that word — sir — just feels right for him, though you’re not sure what it means.

“So polite,” He mumbles to himself, and his eyes seem to grow darker. Finally, he lets you go, shooting you a wink and smirking to himself when you scurry off to sit next to your boss.

The presentation went relatively smoothly — thank God. You don’t know what you would have done if anything went wrong. In fact, Mr. Barnes seemed extremely invested in what you had to say, catching your gaze several times and causing you to stumble over your words a few times, only for your boss to clear his throat and glare at you. Eventually, Mr. Barnes throws him his own glare, silently telling him to shut up, to which your boss finally does.

Once the meeting was declared to be over, you were quick to close your notebook and tuck your pen behind your ear, then you went around the table and started collecting the now-empty glasses. As you’re running around the room trying to clean up, you can feel a powerful gaze boring holes into your body, but you try not to pay it any mind. It’s probably just your boss anyway.

But when you turn away from the desk to finally leave, you bump into Mr. Barnes, your body nearly slamming into his very sturdy chest. His hands shoot to your hips almost immediately, helping to steady yourself.

The warmth of his body pulls you in, but that might also be because Mr. Barnes is literally bringing you closer to his chest by the hold he has on your hips. And that’s when you realize that your hands are clutching his shoulders, but you can’t find it in you to let go.

“What’s the rush?” He asks playfully, his upper lip quirking up in a smirk. “You’re running around like a little bunny.”

“Oh, oh I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes.” You’re not sure why you’re apologizing, you recognize that he’s just teasing, but something in you doesn’t want to disappoint him.

“Mr. Barnes.” He hums, his eyes briefly glancing down to your lips. “I like it when you call me that.”

Now you’re really flustered, your face heats up and you have to do everything in your power not to faint — the way his voice deepens is doing something to you and you don’t know how to handle it.

“I’d like it a lot more if you called me James, though. Can you do that for me, bunny?”

“Ye-Yes, James.” You might have been embarrassed about how quick you were to answer him, but the way he closes his eyes and tightens the hold he has on your body you’re thinking it was the right decision.

Mr. Barnes — James — opens his mouth again, but is interrupted by the door being opened by one of the office assistants, whose eyes immediately go wide in shock. It seems to take a second for her to gather her bearings, but she recovers soon enough.

“Mr. Walker is requesting you,” She tells you, glancing over at James and giving him a nervous smile. “He says you have to file all of the paperwork for the meeting.”

You sigh, you’re tired of having to do everything for your boss only for him to take credit ninety percent of the time. But, it’s what you’re paid to do, so you suck it up.

Looking back to James, you give him a shy smile, reluctantly removing your hands from his shoulders.

“Um, I guess I should go, James.” You’re a little sad, and you don’t quite know why having to leave him and go back to your duties makes you so anxious. It could be because Mr. Walker is mean, or maybe because James makes you feel safe. In reality, it’s probably a mixture of both.

“I guess you should,” He murmurs, removing one of his large hands from your waist so he can cup the back of your neck and pull you closer, only for him to press a lingering kiss on your forehead.

And absolutely no one can blame you for the quiet whimper that leaves your lips, even though you are surprised by your reaction. It doesn’t matter though, because he finally moves back, letting go of you and reaching into the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket so he can pull out what looks like a business card.

“Here,” James says, handing it to you. “In case you ever want to talk, you’re always free to call me.”

“What would we talk about?” Your confusion causes James to chuckle, and he seems amused by your naivety.

“Whatever you want, Bunny. Whether you just want to talk about nonsense or vent about your boss. Doesn’t matter to me as long as I get to hear your beautiful voice.”

With that, he gives you a wink, then turns to the door and leaves, though he does glance back at you. With one final smile, he leaves, and you’re left with a million racing thoughts while standing in the middle of the meeting room.

It took three days for you to finally reach out to James. As soon as you got home that night you ran to your bedroom and added his number to your phone, going so far as to put his business card in your bedside table drawer so you wouldn’t lose it. It just took a little time to gain the courage to actually contact him. After all, what if he was just being friendly? You’ve never met anyone quite like him, so it’s hard to read into his actions.

But today had gone horribly. The café you frequent before work was so busy that you didn’t have time to grab your coffee without being extremely late, the bistro you were demanded to pick up lunch from was closed — and while it wasn’t your fault, Mr. Walker certainly seemed to think it was. Your workload was piled high and by the end of the day, you were on the verge of crying due to the stress and mean comments thrown at you by your boss.

You need a shoulder to lean on and, unfortunately for you, you don’t have anyone else to go to. You’re pretty sure your roommates hate you and only let you live with them because they haven’t found a new roommate yet, you don’t have siblings and your parents are states away, and you have maybe a few friends, but even then the communication is scarce.

You need a shoulder to lean on, and James offered his, so you finally decided to pull up his contact and start a new message. It takes several minutes to figure out what to say, but you eventually settle on something simple.

Hi, James. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Mr. Walker’s assistant. You gave me your number in case I ever wanted to talk.

You hit send and stare down at your phone anxiously as you wait for a reply. A minute goes by, then two, suddenly five, and then you’re starting to regret texting him, what if he doesn’t remember you? What if he’s busy? What if –

Your phone starts ringing, James’ name popping up on the screen and taunting you — almost commanding you to answer.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, bunny,” James says softly, and if you press your ear close enough to your phone you could pretend that he’s right next to you.

“Hi, James. I hope I’m not disturbing you.” Your voice is soft and timid, you’d hate to disrupt anything he’s doing.

“Don’t be silly, bunny,” He says, his smile evident in his tone. “I always have time for you.”

“Oh, um. Thank you, sir.” It’s almost indescribable, but you can just make out the soft curse James lets out, followed by some shuffling.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

You’re a little apprehensive, but with James’ gentle encouragement, you’re able to get everything off your chest, complaining about your day and everything that went wrong. Each word spoken feels like weights lifting off of your shoulders, allowing you to breathe easier every time James hums. He doesn’t interrupt you, which you greatly appreciate, and by the time you’re done, you fall backward onto your bed, relieved.

“I’m sorry you had such a bad day, bunny,” James coos with his smooth-as-honey voice, filling your body with warmth and comfort. “A pretty girl like you doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.” That comment floods your face with heat and you shuffle up the bed to lean against the headboard.

“Oh, I - thank you, sir.” There it is again, sir. James exhales slowly as though he’s trying to control himself from doing something he shouldn’t, and part of you is momentarily worried that you’ve upset him somehow. You don’t want to disappoint him.

“What can I do to help?”

What can he do to help? You’re not quite sure, you’re not sad, and you’re not angry, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t need at least a hug right now. But, it would be too imposing to ask, right? There’s no way he would be willing to come over – that is, if your roommates would even allow him over. And he certainly wouldn’t invite a stranger into his house. So, you lie to him.

“Oh – Oh, no, James, I don’t – you don’t have to – it’s fine –”

“Bunny.”

Your mouth promptly closes, taking a deep breath through your nose and exhaling slowly.

“Sorry, James.”

“Don’t be sorry, bunny.” There’s some shuffling in the background as he talks and you can’t help but sigh at how sincere his voice is. “Now, what can I do to help?” And before you can even open your mouth he’s talking again, “Don’t say nothing, because I know there’s something you want.”

You’re silent for a moment, stewing over how to tell him. But, he’ll probably just be empathetic and say something along the lines of ‘I’d hug you if I were there right now’. So, you decide to just spit it out.

“I guess I just want… I just need a hug, I think,” You sigh, feeling a sudden sense of loneliness. It’s hard not having anyone to talk to, to be isolated even from the people you live with, to be put down time and time again, and not have anyone to support you.

“Where are you?” James asks, and you hear some more shuffling in the background, followed by the jingling of what sounds like keys.

“I’m at my apartment,” You say, confused. He couldn’t possibly be coming over, could he?

“Send me your address and I’ll come pick you up, we’ll go out for ice cream,” James says decisively, and you can tell he doesn’t want any protesting. “Bunny,” He says when you don’t say anything. “You need cheering up and I’m here to do just that. Please send me your address.” He speaks gently but once again, he doesn’t seem to want you to argue against it.

“O-Okay, I will.”

“Good, I’ll see you soon, bunny.” When you bid him goodbye, he hangs up, and you’re quick to send him your address, giving him instructions to text you when he arrives so you can meet him out front of the building.

During the next twenty or so minutes you’re practically running around your room trying to make yourself look presentable. You cried all of your makeup off so you opt to just wash the rest of it off, and then you pull your hair back and away from your face. It takes a bit to decide what to wear, after all this is just a friend taking another friend to get ice cream, but this is also James Barnes; he has more wealth than you could possibly imagine. You want to impress him and appear grateful for his friendliness, and looking at least half-decent would achieve that.

Finally, someone knocks on your door, yelling, “Someone’s here for you!”

With a rush of excitement, you grab your phone and wallet and slip on your shoes, then make your way out of your room to the front door where another roommate is standing in front of it, leaning against the frame and giggling at the person.

James.

He looks bored, almost like he’s trying to appear interested but can’t quite muster up the energy to do so. When you approach, he lifts his head, a wide smile crossing his face.

“There’s my little bunny,” He says confidently, completely ignoring your annoyed roommate. “Come on, let’s get you cheered up.”

With that you walk to him, timidly accepting his outstretched hand and letting him gently tug you into the hallway. When you turn around to tell your roommate that you’ll be back later you can’t even get a word out before you see her glaring at you and shutting the door — the click of the lock is audible through the empty hallway.

“Are they always like that?” James asks with a tone that conveys concern.

“Like what?” You know what he’s talking about, but you hate acknowledging it.

“Rude and disrespectful.” He is so blunt that it causes you to look down in embarrassment to avoid his intense gaze.

Yes, you want to say, they’re awful. You want to shout from the rooftops that your roommates are horrible to you, but you’re just too scared to do it.

“Oh – Oh, no, they’re just…” You trail off, peeking up at James to see the disbelief in his eyes. When you look down again, he brings up one of his hands to cup your cheek and guide your head up so you can look at him head-on.

“You don’t need to lie to me, bunny. I want you to trust me.” James sighs, leaning forward and placing a small kiss on your forehead. “Come on,” He squeezes your hand, smiling softly at you as he starts walking you out of the building and to his car.

It doesn’t take long to get to the ice cream shop, only a five-minute drive, and when you get there James keeps the car locked as he gets out so he can circle around to your side and open your door for you.

“Th-Thank you,” You say as you put your hand in James’ outstretched one, letting him guide you out of the car. He keeps his hold on your hand as you walk into the shop, going so far as to thread your fingers together while you wait in line.

The image of your hand encompassed by James’ large tattooed one has your tummy fluttering with butterflies. But, you must have been staring for a little too long because you’re broken out of your trance by James gently squeezing your hand.

“Is this okay, bunny?”

“Yes!” Heat floods your face as soon as you say it, feeling embarrassed by how quick you were to answer. “I, I mean. Um… Yes, it’s okay.”

James smirks at you, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. But, before you can stew in your shame, the man behind the counter says, “Next!”

You walk up to the counter, letting James order before giving yours. And when it’s time to pay, James doesn’t even drop your hand while he fishes his wallet out of his pocket and takes out his card. Your tummy flutters once again.

“Come, bunny.”

With your desserts now in hand, James leads you to a corner booth, only letting go of your hand so you can scoot in. He sits across from you, looking at you with what can only be described as thinly veiled hunger. It’s not off-putting, you just don’t know what it means.

“So, um…” You trail off looking down at your bowl of ice cream, fiddling with the spoon they gave you.

“You don’t need to be nervous, bunny,” James coos, reaching over and placing his hand palm up on the table, and you’re helpless but to take it, practically aching to feel his warmth again. “Now, other than everything that happened today, how have you been?”

It’s surprisingly easy to fall into a pleasant conversation with him, he asks questions and lets you finish talking before adding his own input, and he doesn’t break eye contact. It feels like he’s really listening to what you’re saying, and it’s almost freeing to have someone in your corner, someone you can trust and depend on.

What feels like far too soon, though has probably been several hours due to how dark it is outside, the man behind the counter comes to your table to tell you that they’re closing soon, and you can’t help but be sad. You’re enjoying James’ company far more than you probably should since you’ve only known him for a handful of days. It almost seems like you’ve known him your whole life.

“Well, bunny. I guess it’s time to go,” James says remorsefully, getting up out of the booth and reaching out his hand to help you out of the booth as well. He keeps holding your hand while you walk out of the door — making sure to throw away your trash on the way out.

James insists on opening the car door for you again — ever the gentleman. There’s a comfortable silence on the drive back to your apartment, your stomach swirling the entire time because James refuses to drop your hand. But when you get to your apartment building, a small amount of anxiety settles inside you, and you’re desperately hoping your roommates are asleep because you don’t feel like dealing with them after you’ve had such a good evening.

The silence is a little more tense while you ride the elevator up to your floor, but you’re grounded by James’ touch. It’s not until you get to your front door that you really look at him, staring into his twinkling eyes. And when he smiles, it settles your nerves.

“I guess this is the end of our night, bunny,” He says, squeezing your hand one last time before dropping it. Before you can mourn the loss of his touch he’s wrapping you in his arms and pulling you close to his chest, and you desperately hope he doesn’t hear the squeak you let out. You wrap your arms around his waist, letting James tuck your face into his neck while he holds you close.

“I had a wonderful time tonight,” James murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead.

“Me too,” You say softly, breathing in and inhaling his comforting scent. “Thank you for cheering me up.”

“Of course, bunny. I’m always here for you.” Then, James pulls his head back so he can look into your eyes. “Always.”

You can’t help but smile. His gaze is hypnotizing, pulling you in and almost refusing to let you go.

“Thank you, James,” You breathe out, and one last time, James squeezes you and kisses your forehead, then steps back.

“I’ll talk to you soon, bunny?” James asks, smiling wide.

“Y–Yeah, I’ll text you. Or you can text me. Or call, that’s–that’s fine too.” Heat floods your face in embarrassment, but you don’t feel too bad about it because James only smiles wider, nodding once.

“I will.”

“Goodnight, James.” With that, you turn and unlock your door, turning around to look at James one last time as you shut the door.

“Goodnight bunny, I hope you have dreams as sweet as you are.” James winks, and you swear you can hear him chuckle when you squeak out an “o-okay,” and shut the door.

And maybe James is some kind of wizard because you have the best night of sleep you’ve had in a while.

For the next few weeks you and James text almost every day, and talk on the phone every couple of days. You’ve met up with him a few times as well, accepting his invitations to lunch or coffee. Each outing would last for several hours, too enraptured by his… everything to be the one to suggest the night should end. You’ve come to trust him, you know with a possibly concerning amount of certainty that James would do everything possible to keep you happy and safe.

Roughly a month and a half after meeting James, you’re sitting on your bed in the same position you were in when you first called him crying. Unlike last time, though, you don’t hesitate to call him. He’s told you time and time again that it doesn’t even matter if he’s in a meeting, he’ll always make time for you. You just hope that’s true.

He picks up almost immediately.

“Hello, bunny,” James says with the same soft tone he always uses when talking to you.

“H-hi, James,” You manage to say, before breaking out into sobs. You’re nearly hyperventilating, trying and failing to catch your breath between hiccups, and it takes a few minutes to calm down enough to hear rustling in the background on James’ end.

“Are you at home?” He asks with the utmost concern.

“Ye-Yes.”

“Stay there,” He says, using what you’ve deemed his CEO voice. “I’m coming to get you.”

“Ja–”

“Bunny.”

You sigh, knowing you can’t change his mind – not that you really want him to. You could really benefit from a hug right about now and James always provides the best ones.

“Can you at least stay on the phone with me?” Your voice is small, still sniffling every few words. You don’t think you could handle being alone with your own thoughts right now.

“Of course. You know I’ll do anything for you.”

It takes James twenty minutes to get to you, and he talks to you the whole time, just menial things to get your mind off of your sadness. When he lets you know that he’s at your apartment, you don’t even wait for him to tell you he’s coming up, you simply grab your jacket and slip on your shoes, then run to the front door without so much as a word to your roommates in the living room.

“James!” Upon seeing the man himself standing next to his car, you fling yourself into his arms, taking deep breaths to prevent yourself from crying in public. “Thank you for coming.”

“Bunny, how many times do I have to tell you that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep a smile on your pretty face?” James’ tone is teasing, but you know he’s serious if his stern and concerned gaze is anything to go by.

You nod, blinking back tears. It’s so nice to have a friend like James Barnes; kind, chivalrous, attentive. With the way he acts sometimes, you’d almost think he’s interested in more than friendship, but you always shake that thought off. He’s too handsome and wealthy to date some random personal assistant who’s barely able to make her rent.

“Come on, bunny,” James moves back but keeps an arm wrapped around your waist, leading you to his car and helping you in. Like always, he waits for you to sit so he can strap you in your seatbelt, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before shutting the door then running around to the driver's seat.

This time, instead of taking a left at the light at the end of your block, he keeps going forward, taking turns until you’re not exactly sure where you are.

“Um, where are we going?”

“My house,” James says casually, briefly glancing at you so he can give you that ever-soft smile.

“But, isn’t your house only twenty minutes away?” You’re confused, and a little curious as to what he’s talking about.

“I only stay there when I have meetings in the city. I have a house a little further out where I live most of the time. It’s a little more lived-in, so I want to bring you there where you’ll feel a little more…” James pauses for a moment, glancing at you again. “At home.” His explanation makes sense in your brain, quickly squashing any nerves that you had. He’s rich, so of course he’d have multiple houses.

It’s almost an hour long drive to get to his house. Well, house feels like an inappropriate term for what it actually is. It’s more like a mansion, standing tall at three stories, a long driveway with trees lining either side of the road, and a luscious garden surrounding the property.

James helps you out of the car and guides you up the steps to the front door, where he unlocks it and lets you step inside. The moment you pass through the threshold your jaw nearly drops to the floor; a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling right when you step in and beautiful artwork adorns the walls. The open floor plan gives you a good view of the living room and kitchen from your vantage point, and you can’t wait to sink into the luxurious and almost comically large couch in front of the TV.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” James urges you further in, bringing you to the living room.

“Um, just water is fine.” You look up at him, smiling shyly and nearly tripping when he smiles back.

“I’ll be right back,” James says, watching as you sit and sink into the plush couch. “Make yourself at home.” The look in his eyes when he says it sparks something inside you, something warm and fuzzy. Thinking of James’ house as your home makes your tummy flutter, but you don’t understand why.

God, you need to get it together.

You’re left alone for a moment, and everything is quiet except for the fridge opening and the glasses clinking. James’ absence allows you a moment to breathe properly, being with him always leaves you flustered, though you can’t deny that some part of you likes it. You like his commanding nature, how deep his voice gets when he talks passionately about something, how warm his embrace is when he holds you for what might be a little too long, squeezing you like he doesn’t want to let you go.

“Here you go, bunny.” Suddenly, a glass of water appears in front of you, and you take it with a gracious smile and a small “thank you.”

“So,” He says, sitting next to you — really close — and throwing his arm over your shoulders, practically pulling you into his lap. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Tears immediately spring to your eyes, suddenly remembering how horrible today was. You force yourself to take a couple of sips of your glass but your hand starts shaking enough to where James takes your glass and sets it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Bunny—“

His soft voice causes you to start crying, throwing yourself into his chest and burying your face in his neck as you sob out your troubles. James’ hand is warm on your back, rubbing it soothingly and squeezing you close to him. This time, he actually pulls you in his lap, you’re grasping the front of his sweater while he maneuvers your body so you’re straddling his thighs, and you can’t help but scoot closer so you’re sitting on him properly with your body flush against his.

A few minutes of crying later and your tears have finally slowed, your sobs deforming into hiccups until you calm down enough to hear James cooing into your ear, whispering sweet nothings. When you finally catch your breath, you pull back, staring up at James with wide eyes and a pout.

“I-I… I was fired! Fired! And I don’t know what I’m going to do! Mr. Walker just tossed me to the side because a document went missing and he blamed me, and now I’m jobless and my roommates are definitely going to kick me out because I can barely make my rent as it is. What am I going to do?”

James sighs, rubbing one hand up and down your back and keeping his other on your waist, though they manage to sneak up your shirt a little without your notice.

“I’m sorry, bunny,” He starts, giving you a comforting smile. “It’s awful that happened to you, and it’s not your fault, so don’t go blaming yourself like I know you want to.”

Your face goes warm with embarrassment. How is he able to read you so easily?

“And as far as your living situation, you’ll move in with me.”

“James!” Your eyebrows furrow, your head automatically shaking. “No, no I can’t do that to you. I don’t have a job anymore and I definitely can’t afford to pay you rent, I-I can’t burden you like that.” Even though it hurts to say it, you want to be honest with him. Because how on Earth are you supposed to pay him back for this?

“You’re not a burden.” You’re surprised by his angry tone, and his eyes darken as though he’s challenging you to say otherwise. “You’ll never be a burden on me, bunny. I’m offering you this, I don’t want you to pay me.”

As though he can sense your hesitation, he gives you a playful smirk.

“But if you really want to help, how about you do the cooking and cleaning? I don’t always get a good home-cooked meal, and it’d be nice to come back from work to see you in a cute little apron.”

This makes you giggle, a weight lifting off your shoulders when you nod timidly. “I-I can do that. I’ll do anything.”

And while you had pure intentions with that statement, James takes it differently, his eyes darkening even further as he nibbles at his bottom lip.

“Anything?” He smirks wider when you nod eagerly because that’s what you are. Always eager to please — especially please James.

“Yes, anything!”

James hums, seemingly thinking something over, before sliding one of his hands up the back of your shirt.

“How about you give me a kiss? I haven’t had a good one in a while,” While he sounds like he’s teasing, his face shows he’s anything but.

He really wants you to kiss him. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to deny him, you’re too grateful for his generosity. Plus, you’d be insane to pass up such an opportunity, he’s handsome, kind, and makes you feel safe. So, with only a little hesitation, you lean down and press your lips against his in a simple peck, but before you can pull away James groans, placing one hand on the back of your head to keep you steady.

His lips practically attack yours, his tongue invading your mouth and taking what it wants – you. You don’t even know it but you’re whimpering almost immediately, opening your mouth and letting James consume you whole. He’s smiling against your lips, biting your bottom lip as he retreats for a moment so he can stare up into your eyes.

“You’re so beautiful, bunny,” James whispers reverently like he’s hypnotized. And he’s not the only one. Your brain is quickly going silent, your sole focus is on James and how good he’s making you feel.

“Really?”

“So beautiful, I’ve always thought so.” His confession makes you whine, he thinks you’re beautiful, this gorgeous man with the deepest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Suddenly, James curses softly, grabbing your waist under your shirt, and that’s when you realize you’ve started subconsciously moving your hips against his.

“S-Sorry,” You mumble, though you’re not too sorry considering you can’t stop rolling down onto his lap, it feels too good.

“Don’t be.” James hums thoughtfully, leaning forward slightly and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Why don’t we go to my room? It’ll be more comfortable.”

You don’t even wait for him to finish before you start eagerly nodding your head, adjusting your legs as he stands so you can wrap them around his waist. He carries you to his room, smirking to himself the entire time because you can’t stop kissing and biting his neck in the hopes of leaving a mark, staking your claim. When you finally get there, James quickly shuts the door behind him and then drops you down onto the bed.

“Sir,” You whine when he doesn’t do anything, he’s only standing at the end of the bed, staring at you with eyes so dark with lust that you can’t see the blue of them.

“Don’t worry, bunny, I’ll take good care of you.” With that, he swiftly strips his shirt off and tosses it to the side, then undoes the button on his pants, slowly dragging down the zipper with a wide smirk at the haze in your eyes. “Do you want to help me?”

It takes a few moments for you to understand what he’s asking of you, but once you do you push yourself up, shuffling over to him until you’re sitting with your legs underneath your butt. For a moment you’re not sure what to do, you reach out for his pants but freeze mid-air because you just now realize that you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. You’ve never been in this situation before, your sexual exploits consist of goodnight kisses on the few dates you’ve been on, and your vibrator in your nightstand that has been working overtime ever since you met James.

“I-I’m sorry,” You murmur, embarrassment flooding your features.

“Why are you sorry, bunny?” James’ voice is soft, soothing your worries.

“I… I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never… been with a man before.” Your hands fall to your lap at the same time you hang your head. What if you disappoint him? You don’t know what you’re doing and you’d hate to mess anything up.

“I know, bunny. It’s okay.” James lifts your chin with his fore and middle fingers, guiding you to look at him again. “I’ll teach you everything.” His voice dips lower, his bottom lip getting trapped between his teeth when you smile, relieved.

“Now, I’m going to take off my pants, but I want you to take off my boxers. Okay?”

“Yes, sir,” You say quickly, eyes dropping to his crotch as he begins pulling the denim down, down, down until it pools on the floor. He steps out of them, then steps in front of you with his arms hanging by his side. When he raises his eyebrow, nodding to his underwear, you reach out for him again, this time with only a small amount of hesitation. Your nerves are nearly off the charts, but knowing that James is going to guide you makes you feel better.

Your hands are shaking slightly when you pull them down, and absolutely no one can fault you for the loud gasp you let out when he’s finally bare because holy shit. Despite being relatively anxious and naive surrounding sex, you’ve watched your fair share of porn, and while the men in them did usually have big dicks, they seem small compared to James’.

You’re almost frightened, how the hell is that going to fit inside you? James chuckles, and you realize you probably said that aloud.

“Don’t worry, bunny. I’ll make it fit,” James groans, reaching down to grab the bottom of your shirt. “I’m going to take this off now, okay?” He tugs it up and over your head once you give your consent, tossing it to the side and cursing when he sees the light pink bra barely covering your breasts. James is biting his lip so hard you’re worried he might draw blood, but you don’t pay it any mind because he’s soon urging you to lay on your back with your legs dangling over the edge.

“Gonna take these off too.”

Giving him a shy smile and a nod, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweatpants, glancing up at you one final time to make sure you’re okay before he surprises you by pulling them off of your legs in one swift movement. You’re tugged down the bed a little, a shocked gasp leaving your lips.

“Fucking angelic,” James murmurs, dropping to his knees and placing his large, rough hands on your knees. He smirks when he sees your matching light pink panties, already soaking wet at the crotch. You have to bite your lip to keep from whimpering when he pushes your legs wide apart, but you can’t stop yourself from squirming when he doesn’t do anything else.

“James,” You whine, high-pitched and needy.

“Sir,” He reminds you with a raised eyebrow as though he’s daring you to say his real name again. And just for good measure, he surprises you by lifting up one of his hands and swinging it down onto your clothed pussy in a harsh swat, causing you to let out a loud moan.

“Sir! I-I’m sorry, sir.”

“It’s okay, little bunny,” James coos as he runs his hands up the back of your thighs so he can push them up and out, letting him get a good look at where you need him most. “Are you going to let me eat your pretty pussy?”

Even though it’s phrased as a question, you know James isn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. It’s not like you even want to tell him ‘no’, you’re too desperate for something, anything.

“Y-Yes, sir. Please.” Your begging makes him groan, and he quickly dips forward so he’s not even an inch away from your core, inhaling deeply and cursing again.

With a quick kiss to your covered clit, he twists his fingers into the band of your panties and rips them into pieces, and you know you’ll have marks from it. But you want them, you want evidence of this night, and you’ll gladly take anything he gives you. And no sooner than your panties off do James dive in, inhaling once more before his tongue sneaks out and licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit.

It’s at that point that you know you’re well and truly fucked, because there’s no way you’re not going to become addicted to the feeling of his tongue dipping into your quivering hole, the way he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks it into his mouth, the way he groans into your pussy like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

And it doesn’t take long for your legs to start shaking, desperately trying to close around James’ head but not being able to due to his hands gripping your thighs and holding them still. The filthy groans he lets out are enough to make you cum alone, but then he attaches his lips to your clit again and gently bites down, forcing an obscene moan out of your mouth.

He lets you get used to the pleasure, switching between fucking his tongue deep inside you and flicking at your clit, and only when he decides you’re ready does he manage to slide his forefinger in your pussy all the way to the third knuckle.

“Sir!” You can’t help but yell. Yes, it stings, but it’s far outweighed by the pleasure of his tongue assaulting your pulsating nub.

He wastes no time in slowly sliding it in and out, wiggling it around until you whine loudly, letting him know he’s found that special spot. You’re too out of it to realize it but James is smiling, clearly smug at how he’s making you react. You wouldn’t care anyway, in fact, he deserves it. He’s making you feel too good, especially when he slips in his middle finger and spreads them.

“Oh god! Yes, fuck. Sir, yes,” You’re incoherent, blabbering nonsense because your brain is too foggy to form a coherent thought. James picks up the pace, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking it as he thrusts his fingers directly at your g-spot.

“Sir! Sir, I-I’m…” As soon as he started, he stopped, pulling out his fingers and leaning back slightly with a wide grin. His chin is coated in your juices, and the gleam in his eyes shows you that you’re not going to be able to cum so easily.

“Not yet, bunny,” James says when you whine pathetically, trying to buck your hips up into his mouth but unable to do so because of his commanding grip now holding your waist. “I’m not letting you cum until I’m inside you.”

James then climbs onto the bed, guiding you upwards to lay your head against the plush pillows so he can lean over your body. With little preamble, he snakes his arms around your back to quickly unclasp your bra and allow your breasts to spill free.

“I can’t wait to watch these bounce,” James groans, palming one of them, twisting and pinching at your nipple. James just laughs when you hiss, because your soaked pussy is enough to tell him that you’re loving what he’s doing.

“Bunny.” He says gruffly, and your eyes shoot up to meet his, though you can hardly see him because your vision is hazy, nothing matters except James. “Are you ready?”

You’re barely able to mumble ‘yes’, but you manage to do so, and James takes that as his cue to grasp the base of his cock and position it at your entrance. He places his other hand on your neck, lightly squeezing the sides to keep your eyes locked on his.

The pressure against your hole is immense, James telling you to breathe as he slowly pushes deeper. He stops about halfway through, giving you a moment for the pain to fade. He’s clearly having a hard time staying still but is cognizant enough to know you’re overwhelmed. It takes a few minutes of deep breathing before you finally nod, silently letting him know that he can move. And he does, pushing in all the way until his hips are flush with yours. Once again, he stills, leaning down to brush his lips over your cheeks and catch the tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.

“H-Hurts, sir,” You whimper out, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with him. And while your core is burning, James looks so damn proud that you’re taking him that it pushes away any discomfort.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Even though you’re in mild pain you’re pretty sure you’ll cry if he pulls out, you need everything he can give you. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry, bunny,” James coos, then tightens his grip around your neck ever so slightly. “I’ll give you what you need.” And as though a switch was flipped, James pulls back, pausing for half a second before thrusting forward.

“Ahhh!” Your mouth drops open as you scream, your arms coming up to claw at James’ shoulders and back as he gives you all he has.

And he has a lot to give. He puts his back into fucking you, keeping one hand around your neck and using his other arm to pull your left leg over his shoulder. Sweat beads at your hairline, your eyes stinging with tears, your whole body lit on fire. At this moment, nothing matters except the delicious burn between your legs, the way your body is shoved further up the bed with each of James’ powerful thrusts until it gets to the point where he has to place the hand around your leg on the headboard to steady you.

“Fuck, bunny, you feel so good. You’re so good for me.” James can’t stop mumbling praises, and even though you can’t really hear them, you feel them. Your eyes don’t move from his, even as he glances down to where your bodies are joined. “Fuck, little bunny. Your pussy looks so good stuffed full of my cock, knew you’d take me so well.”

“S-Sir,” You whimper, bucking your hips up to meet his thrusts and digging your nails into his skin. But James doesn’t seem to mind if the way his whole body shudders and his hips slightly lose their rhythm is anything to go by.

“Are you gonna be a good little bunny and cum for me?” James moves his gaze back up to your face, chuckling when he sees how fucked-out you already are. Despite his hand still around your neck you manage to nod, little cries and whines escaping into the air every time James’ cock gets shoved against your cervix.

“Yeah, you are,” James continues, leaning over your body even more and shifting so the tip of his dick hits your spot with every thrust. “You’re going to squirt all over my cock so I can cum deep in your cunt. Gonna cum in you every day, keep you full of me, maybe even plug you up to make sure it sticks.”

You’re right there, your pleasure climbing higher and higher until you’re ready to fall off the edge. James’s next sentence sends you there.

“Fuck, bunny. You’re going to be the perfect little mommy to all the children I’m gonna give you.”

When you wake up, James will tell you about how you came so hard that you blacked out, squirting and gushing around his cock while he continued telling you how even more beautiful you’ll be when you’re pregnant, taking care of him and his home, how he knew you were the one for him from the moment he first saw you. Your things will already be moved into his house. New clothes chosen specifically for you will be hung up in his closet and the bathroom will be adjusted to fit your products. The kitchen is going to be filled with all the food you like. And your cat will be curled up in a miniature hammock in her very own room.

When you wake up, you’ll see how much thought James put into redecorating his home just for you.

And you’ll be too grateful for his kindness to question where he put your birth control.

main taglist: @lilyalone / @crazyunsexycool / @goldylions / @yeehawbrothers / @buckyssweetheart / @buckysprettybaby / @sushiseoks / @heytheredelulu / @somnorvos / @ozwriterchick / @pxgeturner / @gentlelimerence

bucky taglist: @justsebstan / @myfavbuckyfics

#let me know what yall think!!#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic rec #james barnes #james barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #dark!bucky barnes #ceo!bucky barnes #ceo!bucky #dark!bucky #james barns #bucky barns #bucky barns imagine #my writing #my stuff

2K notes · View notes