WARNING: MINORS DNI
I don't think there's much to warn for here? Making out, finger sucking and a little bit of dry humping is all really.
Note: I actually had so much fun writing this one! Also, I realized I've been writing brattier readers more often than anything else lol Reader is gender neutral here!
“I’m disgusted by how much I love you,” he growled against your mouth. Your thighs were on either side of his hips, straddling him. One of his hands was on your thigh, the other splayed across your back. His tail flicked a few times.
You couldn’t even respond. His lips were on yours again, his tongue taking advantage of your parted lips. He explored every inch of your mouth, it almost felt like he wanted to shove his tongue down your throat. Literally. One moment, his tongue is caressing yours, the next it’s running along the inside of your teeth, then he’s shoving it so far you’re pretty sure you’d end up gagging.
There was no reason for him to be embarrassed of loving you. You weren’t human, you were fae, just like him. But, you supposed, he wasn’t disgusted that he loved you. Like he said, he was disgusted by how much, by what he would do for you. He’d admitted it in the past, that you basically had him on a leash.
With one hand on his chest, you pushed him away. He made what could have been a whine— and you should have mocked him, but you didn’t.
“Let me breathe, Greenbriar,” you panted. You wanted to sound annoyed, but failed to.
“You look so pretty with your face all red,” Cardan pouted. He brought his hand up, trailing along your spine, and then to your cheek. He rubbed his thumb along your cheek. “I like you like this.”
“Suffocating?”
“Out of breath for me.”
“Why aren’t you breathless?”
“I’m just better,” he snorted, giving you a smug smile. You scowled right back at him.
He was so fucking full of himself. Sometimes you loved it, other times it got on your nerves. He wasn’t nearly as in control as he always thought. No, he deserved to be taught a lesson.
You grabbed his chin, though you didn’t need to tilt his head. He was already looking at you with those gold flecked eyes. One of his eyebrows lifted lazily. With a snarl on your lips, you crashed them against his. This didn’t surprise him. You’d done similar in the past, where you ‘took control.’ It always seemed to amuse him.
But you actually meant it this time, and he just didn’t get that.
Your teeth grazed his bottom lip, before sinking in. Not enough to draw blood. Barely. With an amused huff, he parted his lips for you. There was no time to waste, you shoved your tongue into his mouth.
The kiss was awfully messy. You both had saliva on your lips— was it yours? His? You were pretty sure it was a mixture— and you even had a line down your chin.
His tail had wormed its way around your thigh which was a feat in itself with how you were straddling his lap. The furry tip tickled your bare skin. You grinded your hips down on him. Cardan’s hands slipped back down, to your hips this time, and he held you in place. He pulled away from your kiss, his head tilting to the side.
“I didn’t say you could do that, did I?” He drawled.
“I didn’t ask.”
“Brat.”
“Oh, please,” you huffed with a laugh. “I’m the brat? Good one, Cardan Greenbriar: Prince of being a little shit.”
“Prince of taming you.”
“Yeah, as if you could.”
“Do you want to test that?” He asked, voice low. Cardan leaned in, his gaze never leaving yours. And you completely forgot why you were mad at him to begin with. His lips grazed yours, but he didn’t kiss you. “We both know who would win.”
You just glowered at him. It wasn’t like you could argue. This conversation wasn’t unique, you’d had it before. Cardan had proved— more than once, mind you— just who would win, if you both genuinely fought for dominance. And it wasn’t you. Which should have embarrassed you. You couldn’t even handle Cardan. Really? Pathetic.
He had never called you pathetic for it.
“I’d like to see you try,” you growled. Not a lie, so you could say that. It was always pleasurable to see the ways he’d try to take control over you. The last time this happened, he’d held your wrists above your head, bit at your neck. Never enough to draw blood. And then he fucked you into the mattress. He knew how much you loved being able to scratch his back, or even just ghost your hands over his chest. That is how he punished you.
“Just remember,” he said, with a pause. His eyes were still on yours. “You asked for this.”
He took your hand in his, pulling it away from his chin. Cardan took your chin in his hand now, a smug grin on his lips. Of course he was enjoying this.
“Are you just gonna stare-”
“Hush,” he whispered. Before you knew what was happening, he had his fingers in your mouth. Two of them, pressed flat against your tongue. Not quite enough to make you gag, not yet. Your eyes went wide. “That’s better.”
Cardan let go of your chin, but didn’t remove his fingers from your mouth. He let that hand go back to its place on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. And you couldn’t talk. Couldn’t make some sarcastic remark, or even taunt him in the way you wanted to. Even if you could, even if his fingers weren’t in your mouth, you were speechless. Of all the things you thought he’d do, this wasn’t one of them. Not even close.
“Suck,” he commanded.
Like the obedient little fae you were, you wrapped your lips around his fingers. He gave you a smile, then nodded. And what were you supposed to do? What did he expect? For you to just suck his fingers, like you sucked his dick?
You blinked at him. Against your thigh… Was this turning him on?
After a moment of hesitating, you sucked on his fingers. Lightly. You swirled your tongue around them. His breath hitched.
If only you could speak…
Cardan’s hips involuntarily bucked up, into you. You could feel his cock right where you wanted it. If only he wasn’t clothed. If only there wasn’t a pair of pants between you. If only you didn’t have shorts on. But you couldn’t have any of those things, not until Cardan was done. So you started sucking his fingers in earnest, licking them, swirling your tongue around them, damn near treating them exactly how you’d suck his cock. The only difference was you weren’t bobbing your head. And that was because he wouldn’t let you.
After a few minutes of making eye contact and sucking his fingers, he pulled them out of your mouth. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he stuck his fingers— drenched in your spit— into his own mouth.
cw: semi public sex, begging, oral (f receiving), domination, dacryphilia kind of, unprotected p in v, sammy is down bad bad, praise, kind of very slight puppyplay if u squint
an: im a sam brown eyes truther. sue me. i WILL be writing fics about all of the stardew men subbing if this gets like. any attention at all. i KNOW its not jason todd guys but please give it a chance 😢😢
“Are you trying, like.. At all?” Sebastian taunts, jabbing Sam playfully in the side. The blonde avoids eye contact, pale face flushed with embarrassment. You watch from across the bustling saloon, nursing your whiskey. He tries to look unphased, shrugging and taking a step away from the pool table.
“It’s just not my night, man.”
“It’s never your night,” Abigail snorts, taking another shot. Sam stares blankly ahead, and a curious Abby follows his gaze to you. More specifically, the way your breasts spilled out of your top. She scoffs, nudging Seb and jerking her head towards you subtly.
Sebastian groans, resting his face in his slender hands. An increasingly humiliated Sam plops down into his seat and slinks down, hoping he’ll sink low enough to escape the sneers of his friends. He won’t.
“You’re obsessed, dude. Seriously,” Sebastian remarks. Sam had been like this almost every single time you were within twenty feet of him. Blushing, distracted, and hiding an almost comically large tent in his pants. For months, your presence had made him a mess. He’d fallen off the dock before diving into the water trying to catch a glimpse of your ass. He’d stepped full force on Vincent’s foot while watching you bend over to pick some dandelions. Hell, he’d gotten a boner mid conversation with you the first time you’d met. It still haunts him.
“Fuck off,” he retorts defensively, taking a swig of his drink. Hopefully, the alcohol will ease his embarrassment. That had been his hope, anyways. Now, four drinks in, it’s clear that all it’s done is make him more desperate.
. . .
“Sam, let’s just go home, okay?” Abigail suggests, placing a guiding hand on his shoulder. Her grip is gentle but firm. A drunken Sam shrugs it off, shaking his head.
“Nah, ‘m stayin’. You guys can go.”
Seb and Abigail share a look, one that expresses both deep concern and morbid curiosity. Sure, he was about to approach you and humiliate himself in front of virtually the whole town. He’d certainly regret that sober. But, it also makes for wicked entertainment.
“Fine. Do it, then.” She shrugs.
Pleased to have her seal of approval, Sam turns to check himself out in the small, vintage mirror hung on the wall. His shirt has both pizza and beer stains, and his prized hair has distinctly less volume than it did when he first arrived. He doesn’t seem to notice either of these key components.
He turns to his friends with an eager grin and shoots them a cheesy wink, finger guns ablazing. They smile back, though theirs portrays a slightly more sinister range of emotions.
“Wish me luck,” he says before turning on his heels and making a beeline for you.
You’d expected this. Had been, for a while. Subtly, you cross your arms tighter, pushing your cleavage further upwards. He wasn’t exactly your type, but his eagerness had to count for something (though for what, you’re not exactly sure).
Putting on a shitty mask of tranquility, he sits down across from you at your secluded, corner table. You raise a singular eyebrow; It’s a move that immediately drains almost all of the confidence the liquid courage had given him.
“You, uh.. Come here often?” he offers pitifully. You snort.
“Do I come here, the place you see me at every week, often?” You repeat. “No, Samson. I’ve never been here in my life.”
“Yeah, okay, that’s my bad.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. His calloused fingers tap nervously on the table. It takes everything in him not to shoot another glance at your boobs.
“You’re really pretty,” he blurts out, eyes shifting downwards. He decides to focus on your half empty glass of whiskey. Your lipstick had left a pretty pink mark on the rim. “Is that weird? I’m sorry.”
“It’s not weird. Well - it wouldn’t be if you were actually looking at me,” you tease. His eyes almost immediately shoot back up. It’s hard to focus when you look like that. He’s never seen anyone so undeniably attractive, and the way you’re subtly biting into your lower lip doesn’t help ease the pain building in his groin.
“Sorry,” he offers again.
“You’re a real sorry guy, huh?”
“Apparently.”
You let out a laugh, and a bit of hope returns to him. He grins in return, shifting subtly in his chair to try and get some friction. He’s not sure he’s ever been this hard in his life. It strains painfully against his tight jeans.
“So, why’re you really here?” you ask, despite already knowing the answer. He wants to get his dick wet. Of course he does. What else does a man ever want? You only ask to see him squirm.
For a second, his mind blanks. He leans back in his chair, casting a glance behind him to look for his friends. They’re watching carefully, and Abigail shrugs dramatically, as if to ask; So? What’s happening? All he can muster in return is another shrug, his confusion equal to her own.
“I, uh,” he starts, turning back to you. “I’m just curious about you. Yaknow? Being new in town and all.”
“Is that so?” you ask. “Even though I’ve been here for almost a year now?”
A nervous laugh escapes his lips and he looks awkwardly around the room, twiddling his thumbs. What the hell is happening to him? He’s not inexperienced by any means. Flirting is usually his favourite sport, and now he can hardly hold a conversation.
“If you want something, you have to ask for it,” you say, a knowing look in your eyes.
What the fuck is happening? He analyzes your expression, trying to assess whether or not you’re serious. You have to be, right? As much as he hates to admit it, it’s not like he’s subtle about his attraction to you. You have to know.
“I, uh.. I really-”
“Wanna fuck me?” you finish his sentence for him, a mocking sneer on your face.
“..Yeah,” he answers breathlessly, mouth hanging open like a goldfish.
“Say please,” you demand. “Good boys say please.”
His mind is completely empty. He’d never even gotten this far in his dreams, and here you are, about to give him what he wants. About as subtly as a heart attack, he reaches down and palms his boner through the thick denim of his pants. A small groan rips through him.
“Please, let me fuck you. Please.”
For a moment, you remain silent, tapping your chin in feigned thought. Eventually, you shoot him a smirk.
“Follow me.”
. . .
Sam moans enthusiastically into your pussy, his pierced tongue slithering its way inside of you. He grips your thighs with a bruising passion, desperate to get you as close to him as possible. Your back is pressed against the cold tile of the bathroom wall, one hand clamped over your mouth to keep yourself quiet. The other is tangled in Sam’s now disheveled hair, pushing him further into the space between your legs.
For a moment, he pauses, staring up at you with his big brown eyes. His brow furrows.
“C’mon, pretty girl,” he whispers, pressing a brief kiss to your aching clit. “Make some noise for me. Move the hand.”
“Yeah, you wanna get caught?” you ask, yanking his hair backwards roughly. He whines, fingertips digging into the meat of your thighs.
“Don’t care,” he mumbles. “Jus’ wanna hear you. Please.”
With a sigh, you give him what he wants. He eagerly dives back into your pussy, and without a warning, slips a thick finger inside of you. It’s not a big stretch, but the lack of a warning earns a breathy gasp out of you.
It’s music to his ears, and he’s spurred on by the thought of you finally cumming on his face. His lips attach themselves to your clit, sucking harshly while another finger is inserted inside of you. They curl forcefully, and you let out a hiss through gritted teeth.
With both hands free, you use them to hold him roughly in place. Your hips move desperately against his mouth, trying to get as much friction as possible. A small chorus of whines choke through you, your head hitting the wall as you throw it back.
He adds a third finger, and you know it’s over. You let out a loud moan, your thighs clamping shut around Sam’s face. It doesn’t stop him. He continues sucking like a baby with a pacifier. You ride the high before collapsing slightly, gasping for air.
“That feel good?” he asks, pressing chaste kisses to your inner thighs. If he’s out of breath, he doesn’t show it.
“Yes, baby,” you murmur, relaxing your grip in his hair. You scratch his scalp soothingly, and he whines, face pressed into your stomach. As you regain your breath and become more aware of your surroundings, you notice him rutting against your calf.
He continues, the friction allowing him some semblance of relief. His arms wrap tightly around your hips, mouth agape as he whines softly.
“Fuck- Please, can you touch me now? I need it. Need you,” he moans, practically drooling.
“Do you think you deserve it?” you ask, once again tightening your grip on his hair and forcing him to look up at you. He’s completely red.
“Yes, please. I’ve been good. Been so good, jus’ for you.”
You frown, letting go of him. He huffs at the loss of contact.
“Really? Because I don’t remember telling you you could do this,” you snap, lifting your leg and shaking him off of you. He falls pathetically to the cold floor, wet spot on his jeans obvious. Obliviously, he ruts against the air.
“ ‘m sorry! Please. I’ll be good, I’ll be so good. Let me make it up to you.”
“Sit up.” you command. He doesn’t hesitate, scrambling to sit on his knees. His lower lip trembles. “Don’t touch yourself unless I say you can.”
He whines helplessly, shifting in order to rub his weeping tip weakly against the zipper of his jeans. Despite the tears in his eyes, he nods. With a sadistic grin, you bend down and grab his face roughly, spitting onto his partially open mouth. He slips out his tongue to lick it up, eye contact not faltering.
Satisfied, you stand back up and reach your heel towards his groin. You press the sharp tip of your shoe into his boner, and the pressure prompts the tears welling in his eyes to stream down his cheeks. You continue rubbing the bulge with your shoe, and a series of small whines escape his lips.
He tries to amplify the friction, rutting his hips to rub himself against the bottom of your shoe. You quickly snap to get his attention.
“Stay fucking still.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he cries, tears falling at a steady rate now. He’s so desperate for a release, his head empty save for thoughts about you.
You press your shoe against him with more force now, the pleasure of contact mixing with the pain of your crushing heel. He lets out a choked sob.
“Get up,” you bark. He obeys swiftly. A bit sympathetic now, you gently cup his face and connect your lips with his. His arms wrap tightly around you, one hand reaching down to grab your ass. Sam nips at your bottom lip playfully as the kiss breaks.
Finally giving in to his pleas, you unbutton his pants and slip your hand down into his boxers. He moans in relief, burying his head in your chest as he holds you tighter. His dick is soaked, and when you pull out your hand, it’s covered in pearly pre-cum.
“Take your pants off.”
They’re off almost as soon as you finish your sentence. He strokes his cock greedily, preparing himself. His tip is red and angry, dripping down onto the tile. He’s thicker than you would’ve guessed, and your mouth waters slightly at the prospect of taking it.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he whines, bending you over the sink. You can hear him panting like a dog louder than you hear your own breath. “Can I- Fuck. Please, please, please. I wanna make you feel good.”
You nod, and that’s all it takes for him to begin to stuff his fat tip inside of you. You grunt at the stretch, mouth agape. He knows he should be taking it slower, but the relief of being able to touch you is too overwhelming. Sam’s hips snap against yours, his hands planted firmly on your waist. He’s moaning loudly and unabashedly.
Within seconds, he’s fucking in and out of you at a pace faster than you wouldn’t have thought possible. His mouth must be wide open with pleasure, because you feel a drop of drool drip down onto your lower back.
His calloused thumb finds its way to your clit once more, rubbing quick, tight circles around it. Your face scrunches in concentration.
“Please, can I cum? Please, please fuck-” he begs, his heavy balls slapping against you as he ruts in and out with the fervor of a man starved.
“Yes!” you choke out, panting heavily at your own approaching orgasm. One of his large hands reaches upwards to pinch at your tightened nipples. The second you reach your peak, he allows himself to shoot his cum inside of you, thick ropes settling deep in your cunt.
He collapses forward, face resting on your back as he tries to catch his breath. You both stay like that for a moment before he pulls out. Despite how rough the encounter had been, his touch remains tender and gentle. He pulls you to your feet, brushing hair out of your face before planting a kiss on your forehead.
“That was incredible,” he murmurs, eyes still glazed over with pleasure. He’d never done anything like that before, but the feeling of being dominated is still tying his stomach into knots. “You okay?”
You nod, giving him a quick peck before redressing. He does the same. Unfortunately, one look in the mirror tells you both just how obvious what you’d just gotten up to was. Your makeup is smeared, some of it collected on Sam’s face. Both of your previously coiffed hair is deflated and messy. You snort at just how ridiculous you both look.
“Do you think Gus is going to ban us from the saloon?” you ask, only half joking. Sam laughs, burying his face in the crook of your neck from behind.
Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem! reader (has a pussy + fem pronouns) x Wally West x Roy Harper x Garth x Victor Stone (at the same damn time!)
Summary: during a game of Never Have I Ever, you let it slip to your friends that you're insecure about having sex (& they set out to change that)
Word Count: 4.4k
Content/CW -> fem! reader (has a pussy + fem pronouns), gangbang, insecure! reader, inexperienced! reader, slight awkwardness, slight awkwardness, sleepover games, lots of praise, fingering, pussy eating, double penetration, face fucking, cum swallowing, lots of fluids, creampie, unprotected sex, mentions of aftercare
froggi yaps -> honestly i rewrote this twice and im still not happy w how it turned out but </3 i just needed to finish it and move on. i see why people don't write abt 5 men at the same time now :,) although i think i could finish the sex pollen ver. with just four of them...we'll see ;) enjoy
You wish you hadn’t said that. Based on the blank, owlish stares of your teammates, you’re not sure they’ll ever see you the same again.
Leave it to Wally West to pipe up first. “You’re joking.”
You shake your head, reaching for your half-empty cup of soda. The wide brim of the plastic helps hide the shame rushing to your face, your awkward, embarrassed smile comfortably hidden in the safety of a Solo Cup.
“You really think that?” It’s Garth that speaks next, quieter and more concerned than the speedster had been.
His eyes are stormy, lips pulled into a frown as he looks you up and down. You shrug weakly in response, discarding the cup back on the side table next to you.
It had been a mistake to do this, really. Half of the team away on some mission to find one of Rachel’s demon half-brothers, and the world oddly quiet for a night, it was Roy who’d suggested you all hang out. You risk a glance at the redhead, manspreading on the couch with an arm slung just behind Dick’s shoulders.
It’s not entirely his fault. Sure, he’d been the one to suggest you hang out, but it was Wally who’d suggested the game of Never Have I ever. The game that had just trapped you three rounds into the game with one simple phrase: Never have I ever had sex.
You’d hoped to quietly shrink away while the guys talked about their own experiences, ready to shrug yours off with a sly smile and ‘a lady never tells.’
But Victor Stone is far too observant for that, and all too late did you see that look in his eyes before he asked you why you weren’t drinking. And cornered by the five men, alone in the Titans living room, you froze.
You couldn’t lie to them. Literally couldn’t lie to them, given Dick and Victor would notice the slight shifts in your behaviour.
“I’ve done stuff,” you explained a little too quickly. “I just…never wanted anyone to see me like that.”
“Why?” Roy had asked.
It was a weak attempt at a self-depricating joke that brought on the stunned silence.
“Who would want all this?” You laughed, “I’ll spare them the trouble.”
And thus the silence had begun, each of the men in the room confused on how someone as gorgeous as you could be so insecure.
Garth still stares at you, not taking your shrug for an answer. His fingers are tight around his own cup, warping the plastic ever so slightly.
You cringe. “We really don’t need to talk about this, it was a joke and—”
“Any guy would be lucky to have you,” Roy says, and something in the way he looks at you has changed. “I hope you know that.”
It’s so sickly sweet coming from him, coming from any of them, that it takes you aback. You can only nod awkwardly, letting your eyes flutter closed and taking another drink while you hope this conversation comes to an end.
It doesn’t.
“Seven minutes in heaven,” Wally declares, followed by a string of groans.
Dick grins wickedly. “What, you want to make out with me in a closet?”
“Tempting,” he says, shooting Dick an equally wicked grin. “But not for us.”
You know what he means immediately, shrinking in on yourself more. The very thought of being locked in a dark closet with any one of your very hot, very kind teammates has your heart racing. A wave of dizziness crashes over you.
“Seriously, Wally,” your voice shakes, “it’s fine.”
And then he leans close to you, lips barely an inch from yours. “You don’t want to spend seven minutes with me?”
Heat pulses in the pit of your stomach, rushing through your veins and straight to your face. Wally’s gaze burns you, bores holes through your pupils until you’re forced to look away.
“Who said it would be you?”
He gasps, wounded, and settles back into his seat. Garth cracks a smile from next to you, the ghost of a flush on his cheeks. You take a breath, trying to calm your uneven heartbeat.
“Then who would it be?” Victor asks, and suddenly your mouth is impossibly dry.
You shrug weakly. “I-I don’t know.”
The thought of any of them having you like that, seeing you like that, has more hot shame shower over you. You cross your arms over your stomach and lean back into the couch cushions.
“We could spin a bottle?” Roy offers unhelpfully, and it’s only now that it dawns on you that they’re being serious.
“Spin a bottle?” You say reluctantly.
“Or you could choose.” He’s grinning ear to ear, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Up to you.”
You finish the rest of your soda and find yourself wishing there was something a little stronger in your cup. “Spin the bottle it is.”
It’s five minutes later that you’re sitting in a circle on the floor, an empty protein shaker bottle laid out in front of you. The men look almost comical like this—criss crossed like a bunch of school kids, eagerly watching as you lean forward and spin the cup.
You flick it hard, watching as it spins, and spins and spins. It slows on Dick, turns to Victor. You hold your breath. It slows more, sputtering on Wally before finally landing on Garth.
Relief splashes over you like cold water on your face. If it had to be anyone, you’re glad it’s Garth.
Wally crosses his arms over his chest, “lucky bastard.”
You pretend not to hear it.
You rise to your feet on shaky legs, Garth parroting the motion. The pantry—the designated ‘closet’ as Wally had declared it—stares at you mockingly. Each step feels weighted, like the floor is going to open and swallow you up right now. And part of you hopes it does.
Garth holds the door open for you, ushering you into the dark before following after and closing the door behind you. It’s a tight fit with the both of you, his broad shoulders blocking your only exit. You swallow.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine, I—we don’t have to do anything, you know? Not if you’re uncomfortable.”
“You’re so pretty,” he says quietly, taking a step towards you. “I hope you know that.”
A soft hand cups your chin, tilting your head to look at him. You gasp, lips parting just enough for him to brush over them with his thumb.His thumb dips between your lips, mouth instinctively closing around to suck on it.
He groans, a grin on his face. “You’re a natural, baby.”
And then he’s popping his thumb out of your mouth and leaning in to kiss you, the salty taste of his skin flooding your mouth. One of his hands grips your hip while the other cups the back of your neck, pulling you as close to him as possible.
He juts a knee forward, angling you so you’re just barely resting on it. He grins it into you and you whimper, heat swelling in your clit, a new wetness spreading in your panties.
On instinct, you grind your hips down into him, little whines being swallowed up by Garth before anyone else can hear. He slides his hand up your side and under your shirt and bra, thumb swiping over your nipple.
“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles against your lips, trailing down to kiss along your jaw, “you make such pretty sounds.”
You tug at his hair, dark strands like silk between your fingers. Garth uses his leverage to grind your hips down harder, forcing you further down on his thigh. You moan, lewd and loud, echoing off the walls of the pantry.
Garth grins ear to ear, pulling his mouth away from where he’s been sucking on your neck and dropping to his knees in front of you. He’s quick to tug your pants down to your knees, kissing up your thighs. His thumb rubs circles on your clit, tongue greedily drinking up the wetness at your entrance.
You fist your hand in his hair, your other hand braced on the wall. YOu’re thankful for his strong hand on your hip still, knowing you would’ve dropped to the floor by now otherwise.
“You taste so good.”
“I-I do?”
He wraps his lips around your clit, nodding. “Mhm.”
You let your eyes flutter closed, focusing only on the feeling of Garth’s tongue exploring your folds and the way your knees shake unbearably around his shoulders.
“So pretty and you taste so good,” he looks up at you through those dark lashes, face covered in your juices. “I feel so blessed to taste such a pretty girl.”
You part your lips, about to say something when there’s a loud banging at the door.
“Seven minutes is up!” Wally calls, and you resist the urge to cry, feeling on edge from having Garth’s face buried between your legs.
He smiles apologetically, planting a quick kiss to your temple. “Sorry.”
You take a minute to redress yourself and gather your bearings, somewhat embarrassed by your disheveled appearance and your swollen lips. It’s silent when you sit back down, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on you.
You spin the bottle again, watching as it turns and turns, and lands right on Roy Harper. He tilts his head, red hair falling into his face, and flashes you that damn grin. Something warms in the pit of your stomach.
You’re shakier on your feet now, knees quivering with the fading pleasure of your ruined orgasm. Roy rests a gentle hand on the small of your back to guide you back to the pantry, dipping his head down to mumble in your ear.
“You alright?” He asks, “we don’t have to do anything if you’re overwhelmed.”
You shake your head, fighting back the spinning in your head and the racing in your chest. “I-I wanna.”
His smile only grows, “atta girl.”
Roy ushers you into the pantry and closes the door behind you, cheekily winking at the other guys before sealing the two of you in the dark. He takes a step towards you, chest pressing into you and a hand cupping your cheek.
“So,” he says, not breaking eye contact, “where did you and Garth leave off, hm?”
There’s something in the way he’s looking at you, something intense and deep and new. You look at him through your lashes, swallowing away your last bit of shame.
“He was…eating me out.”
“Mhm, and did you like it?”
You can only nod, your mouth impossibly dry. Roy leans in, dipping his head down to slip his tongue in your mouth and run it along the length of yours. His other hand slips down into your pants, fingers rubbing along your folds.
You groan, Roy biting down on your lip and gently tugging. He slips a finger inside of you, the thickness of it making you clench down. Slowly, he pushes it all the way in and curls it into the sensitivity of your walls. You throw your head back, clawing at his shoulders.
Roy grins against your mouth, “you like that, pretty girl?”
You nod, breathless and at a loss for words. Roy slips another finger inside of you, scissoring them to better spread you open.
“Tell me,” he kisses his way down to your neck, “use your words.Tell me how good it feels.”
“F-feels so good, Roy, fuck.”
He grin, grazing his incisors on the side of your neck. “So pretty for me,” he groans, pumping his fingers faster. “How could you possibly think someone wouldn’t wanna see this?”
Roy snatches your wrist with his free hand, dragging it down until you’re cupping the growing hard on in his jeans. He groans at your touch, curling his fingers harshly into your walls.
“That’s how gorgeous you are,” he mumbles, sucking on your collarbone. “See what you do to me?”
You swallow, whimpering. Roy drops your hand, tugging your pants and panties down to the floor. He lowers himself to his knees, looking up at you from between your legs before hooking one of your knees over his shoulder.
His tongue finds its way to your clit, swirling around it while his fingers thrust in and out of you. You feel that heat starting to build in your tummy, your hand fisting in Roy’s hair and tugging until he moans against your pussy.
You’re so lost in everything that you don’t hear anyone knock until Roy pulls away, frowning at you from the floor.
“Times up,” it’s Dick this time, and you swear you hear the smirk in his voice.
You blink away the tears of frustration welling up in your eyes and go to grab your pants only for Roy to snatch your panties away and stuff them in his pocket.
“I don’t think you’ll be needing those.”
“Roy!”
You pull up your pants, the seam rubbing against your poor, sensitive pussy. Roy stands in front of you, helping you adjust your clothes, strong hands rubbing the wrinkles from your shirt.
You’re thankful for Roy’s guidance coming out of the closet, your own limbs bending like jelly with every step. You barely feel their eyes on you anymore, every feeling drowned out by the throbbing in your pussy and the way your juices are dripping down your legs.
You’re about to settle back into your spot on the floor, the conversation they’re having sounding distant and underwater, when Wally grabs you and tugs you into his lap. You stumble and fall right into him, too weak and blissed out to make a snide comment or fight back.
He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Enjoying yourself?”
You hum in agreement, letting your head lull back and rest on his shoulder. He taps your face gently, “think you can keep going, baby?”
You nod lazily, “need to cum.”
And then you’re spinning the bottle again, the colours a blur as it spins and spins and spins. You relax into Wally, feeling his hardness directly beneath your dripping pussy. You can’t help but rock your hips a little into him, trying to gain some friction.
The bottle slows to a stop right in front of Victor, who eyes the little rocking motions you’re making on Wally with a smile. Wally helps you to your feet, fingers hesitant to release your hips.
Vic half catches you in his arms, “someone’s eager.”
The cool metal of his body helps settle the scorching heat that’s had you sweating, his strong arms feeling like heaven around you. You grab at him desperately, the walk to the pantry a blur until he’s shutting the door and smashing his lips against yours.
Your hand trails down the metal of his torso until they reach the fabric of his pants, feeling around his crotchplate only to find he’s already loosened it. It clatters to the ground and then you’re wrapping your hand around his length, feeling how hard he already is for you.
Victor grabs at your ass, yanking down your pants and rubbing a thumb over your clit. You shiver, free hand pulling his head down so you can kiss him. The taste of his soda and something citrussy fills your mouth, the taste enough to make you whine.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he groans. “Need to fuck you.”
You nod wordlessly, squeezing the base of his length. His hands reach for your hips and then he’s pulling you into his arms and slamming your back against the shelves of the pantry. Packages fall, the shelves shake but lucky for you, stay intact.
You reach a hand between your flushed bodies to guide his tip to your dripping entrance, already thoroughly prepped from Garth and Roy. He slides in easily, the thickness of his cock stinging a little as it stretches you out.
You rest your head on his shoulders, moaning into his ear as he rocks his hips and bottoms out inside of you.
“You’re so tight,” he grunts. “Feels so good.”
“Vic, fuck, go faster.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He picks up the pace, every slam of his hips knocking the breath from your body and making your back ache from where it hits the shelves. You bite down on your lip in an attempt to suppress the sounds slipping through, but that only makes him slam his hips into you harder.
“Make such pretty sounds for me, baby.” He coos, “look so, so pretty like this.”
You rake your nails down his shoulders, desperate for anything to ground you while he fucks the life out of your pussy. His cock fills you so perfectly. Hitting every spot inside of you until your eyes are rolling back and you’re sure you can’t take anymore.
“Take it so good, baby, fuck.”
And maybe it’s his lewd words or the edging you’ve experienced tonight but that’s all it takes for you to be sent over the edge, your orgasm rolling over you. Your pussy clamps down hard around his cock and you bury your face into his shoulder to keep yourself from screaming.
You cum so hard it feels like you’ve been flashbanged, your vision and hearing falling away from you. You’re vaguely aware of a knock on the door and some talking, and then you’re being moved away from the darkness of the pantry and back to the soft glow of the living room.
Victor’s at your side now, tapping your face. “You still with us?”
You nod weakly, giving him a shaky thumbs up.
“Think you can keep going?” It’s Dick who asks, sitting on your other side, obvious hard on through his jeans.
You swallow. “I-I want to keep going.”
He shakes his head, just once, and then he’s shimmying himself out of his jeans and freeing his cock from his boxers. He taps the tip of it against your face, smearing his precum on your lips. You open your mouth, looking at him through your lashes while he slowly pushes himself inside.
The salty taste of him hits you immediately, followed by the stretch needed to take him into your mouth. Dick cups your chin, rubbing a thumb along the side of your mouth to get rid of any drool.
“You’re so pretty like this,” he says, “wish I could look at you forever.”
Someone lifts your hips slightly, slinging your legs over their shoulders and dipping their face between your legs. You squirm a little, pussy burning from the overstimulation. You blink a few times and just barely manage to make out Wally’s face between your legs.
He winks at you. “Enjoying the show?”
You nod weakly, taking more of Dick in your mouth until he’s bottoming out in your throat. You gag, more drool and spit leaking out the corner of your mouth and dripping down your chin. He wipes it off with a smirk.
Wally’s tongue slips inside of you, lapping up the leftovers from your orgasm. His thumb rubs slow circles on your clit while his other hand is pressed against your stomach.
Dick pulls out for a minute, letting his cock hit your cheek and smearing spit along your skin. “Wally, switch.”
And the redhead does what’s asked of him.
Dick lines his cock up with your entrance, a hand pressed over your stomach, while Wally rotates with him and rubs his hard cock against your mouth. Someone prods at your side and through your half-open eyes, you just barely make out Garth—hard and smiling sheepishly.
You grab his cock, squeezing the base a little too hard when Dick enters you in one, fluid motion. His cock makes you ache, the overstimulation already creeping up inside of you. You let your eyes flutter closed, mouth falling open to take Wally between your lips.
He slaps his cock on your tongue, taking his sweet time with you. The salty sweet taste of his precum lingers, the tip of his cock just barely nudging its way into your mouth. You look at him, hoping to shoot him an unimpressed look, only for Dick to snap his hips into yours hard.
Wally takes advantage of the moan that leaves your lips and pushes his cock further into your mouth. He uses his thumb to wipe up the spare drool leaking from the corner of your lips.
“You’re real cute, you know that?”
“So cute,” Dick agrees, grunting.
One of Dick’s hands finds the backs of your legs, slinging them over your shoulder and pressing himself into you until your legs are folded into your chest. He’s so deep like this, leaving you so full that it’s hard to breathe. Your eyes flutter shut again as you try to focus on the feeling of Wally’s cock in your mouth, Dick in your pussy and Garth in your hand.
In, out, suck, stroke. You fall into a steady rhythm with them, every thrust making you just a little sloppier, a little more distracted. That familiar knot in your stomach builds much quicker this time, bursting at the seams until you’re coming undone with a loud whine.
Wally pulls his cock out, slapping it against your cheek and letting you breathe through your orgasm. It takes you a minute to come back to yourself, Dick fucking you through it slowly.
You blink at him with teary eyes. “Fuck.”
Garth wipes the sweat from your forehead. “How’s our pretty girl doing?”
“G-good.”
“Good enough to keep going?” Wally asks, and you nod.
It’s a mess of hands and movement from there, Wally somehow getting beneath you and slipping his cock inside your pussy. Garth lays on top of you, positioning his own cock at your entrance.
You cringe, unsure if you’ll be able to even take both of them at once. Garth smiles sweetly, petting your cheek as he squeezes his way inside of you.
“That’s it, good girl. You can take it. Almost there.”
You’re sure you could cum from his words alone, your head spinning with the pleasure of it all. It’s a struggle but somehow, he manages to slip his cock inside of you.
Garth and Wally start out slow, rotating thrusts so that you’re always stuffed full of cock. Roy stands next to your mouth, prodding your moan-opened lips with his cock.
You open wide, letting him slip his cock inside and slowly bottom out in your throat. Dick stands by his side, stroking his own cock while he watches. Roy pulls out and suddenly Dick is slipping himself inside, pressing his tip to the back of your throat before pulling out and letting Roy take his turn.
Victor grabs your hand and wraps it around his length, helping you get into a rhythm of jerking him off. You gag on Roy’s cock, more spit and drool coming from your lips only to be wiped up by the tip of Dick’s cock, slipping into your mouth once Roy pulls his away.
Beneath you, Wally and Garth have found a perfect rhythm, slamming their cocks deep inside of you. The friction makes you ache, Garth’s hand pressed firmly into your pelvis making you feel them even more. It would hurt if you hadn’t already came twice, if they hadn’t already taken their sweet time prepping you.
“So messy,” Roy teases, slapping your cheek with his cock.
“A pretty mess,” Dick corrects him.
Roy slips his cock back into your mouth, bottoming out. You hollow your cheeks and suck hard, bobbing your head as much as you can while your pussy is attacked by the two other men.
The world around you becomes a blur until Roy is cumming on your face, sticking his cock in your mouth so you can swallow the rest. You look at him while he cums, eyes teary and face a mess from them fucking you, and it only makes him cum harder.
Your head lulls to the side, taking deep breaths before Victor is replacing Roy’s cock in your mouth and Dick is grabbing your hand to jerk himself off.
It’s Wally that finishes next, your pussy too tight with both of them stuffed inside you that he can’t pull out. Hot ropes of it fill you, flooding your womb and dripping through the gaps between their cocks and your pussy. You gasp at the feeling, clenching down around them as your own orgasm hits.
You suck hard on Victor’s cock while you cum, grateful for something to distract you from the burning feeling flooding your body. He grabs the back of your head and pulls it down, holding you still while he finishes in your throat. You swallow it greedily, half aware and dripping wet while Garth still fucks into you.
Dick taps your cheek, turning your head and sticking his cock into your mouth. He groans at the feeling, “doing so good, baby. Almost there. Almost.”
Garth must have finished sometime when you were cumming, your pussy suddenly so full it aches. Him and Wally have gone still inside you, neither one wanting to pull out.
Dick bottoms out inside your throat and then he’s cumming, too, hot strands filling your mouth until you swallow it all in one big gulp. He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips.
“Did so fucking good baby,” he gasps. “So good.”
There’s a chorus of agreements that are all drowned out by how fuzzy your head feels, the world around you hot and blurry.
Slowly, the mess of bodies disappears until Garth is pulling out, cum gushing from your pussy and dripping down your thighs. He pulls you up into his arms, holding you steady so that Wally can get up. You stumble, falling into him, tired enough you’re sure you could sleep for a thousand years.
He kisses the top of your head. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” you admit, and he laughs softly.
Wally sandwiches you between him and Garth, kissing your temple. “You did so good, baby. Let’s get you some water and then we’ll clean you up, hm?”
It’s an hour later that you’ve been fed, hydrated and wiped clean that Victor’s carrying you to bed. Despite the ache between your thighs and in your jaw, despite the way they’d ravaged you only an hour earlier, you can’t help but think that there’s no place you’d rather be.
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thanks for reading & have a wonderful week /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡
wrote a completely self indulgent 2.5k stardew valley smut fic instead of doing my requests. you're welcome ❤️ will probably post tonight after i edit it
♯┆“’S a nice view t’night,” he hums mostly to himself, taking in the increasingly bleary nature of the skyline before him, willing his lashes not to flutter shut in an effort to fully be in the moment. “Shame you can’t see it too."
rating: smut (18+)
cw: smoking, blowjob, face fucking, throatpie, public setting
wc: 3,087
A/N: 3k words of pure blowjob? okay. i wrote this in two-ish hours in a frenzy.
The view stretched out in front of him is the sole reason why he wanted to bring you to the mountains in the middle of the night. Tucked away in a secret little hiding spot, behind the thicket and trees where one might assume is never-ending greenery hides the smallest of clearings—the exact one he’s taken you to. Led along the shallow winding path to reveal a stunning sight, one that he promised would inspire and comfort all from one simple viewing. It’s where he always comes to clear his head, with low traffic and even less noise, it’s a nice spot to wind down.
With as many stars twinkling in the night sky as little lights do from the city far away, dazzling from the high mountain spot he’s drove you to in the middle of the night. Like a pair of courting teenagers, sneaking off alone together to simply gaze out at the view of Zuzu city, dreaming of what might become of the future. A hopefully shared one, he muses to himself. Spurred on into romanticism by the shimmering of office windows, the bright orange glow of a place still yet alive despite the moons insistence on sleep. And it is comforting to find solidarity in such a sight, or at least Sebastian thinks so.
Maybe you have a different thought in mind, given your current position.
Dragging on the remaining half of his cigarette, his stance widens to provide himself a bit more stability, as if the huge bike behind him wasn’t support enough. Inhaling slowly to feel the burn of tobacco in the back of his throat as the perfect compliment to appreciating the view, holding it in his full lungs for four, maybe five seconds before exhaling just as lazily, trailing off into a soft satisfied sigh at the end of the hit.
“’S a nice view t’night,” he hums mostly to himself, taking in the increasingly bleary nature of the skyline before him, willing his lashes not to flutter shut in an effort to fully be in the moment. Though a shiver nonetheless rolls down his spine to spin his hazy gaze a tad, and a barely there curse falls from his lips, cigarette shaking in his two finger hold when you hum back at him in agreement. He takes just a moment to fix his hair before finishing his absent though, running a hand through the slightly damp strands in spite of the bare dry night. “Shame you can’t see it too.”
Situated nicely between his spread legs, kneeling politely on the hoodie he has placed on the dirt ground for your comfort, your back is unfortunately turned to the stunning city view. Unable to absorb the bright white lights like stars in your eyes, only sinking further down, back and forth between his legs, choking on his cock as opposed to tearing up at the pretty view just behind you. And it honestly is a real shame, seeing as the motive behind his decision to bring you up all the way out here away from town tonight was to show you the view—his own personal little slice of heaven, just a bike ride away. Not a space he often shares with anyone; in fact, you might be the first. Some sort of desperate plead for you to understand him through the city, and yet despite the utter beauty of the spot, he can’t complain over your lack of attention to the details of the lights. He’d be a fool to distract you from your more preferred view, after all, seeing as it benefits him at the end of the day.
After another heavy drag of smoke, he takes to settling his tacky hand on your head, ignoring the way your hair stick to his fingers in favour of lightly scratching, petting, whatever the movement might be called in an attempt to praise you for your efforts. Though he’s yet to ask you to be his girlfriend, he’s absolutely fucking certain that he’ll do so by the end of the night once you’re done, because fuck if you can’t suck a cock—shit. His stance wobbling a little under your tongue, fighting for what feels like his survival at this rate as the cigarette isn’t the only thing going to his head.
The tip of his cock gets squeezed by the back of your throat in quick succession, and he has no choice but to compliment you verbally. A rushed, hushed, holy fuck escapes him—a clear sign of his enjoyment, and further conflict as he struggles to endure your affections. You’re so good at sucking cock apparently—perhaps too good given how hot and heavy he already feels from a bit of teasing, sweating into the cool night air as the wind brushes past his unzipped exposed crotch. All tongue and spit, drooling down the length of him to turn his balls all sticky with a sweet mix of precum and saliva. Right, yeah, he has to make you his by the end of the night. Can’t let your talent go to waste on someone else.
“Never thought I’d be gettin’ my dick wet up here,” he half laughs, half whines, because of course you decide to double your efforts the moment he starts to speak like a little minx. Curling your tongue around his cock, providing just enough sweet suction to keep him on his tippy toes, and his fingers grasping a bit tighter to your hair. “Ah, b-but, bet you never thought you’d— you’d be on your knees tonight either, right?”
No, of course not. It was just meant to be a simple—albeit romantic—trip up into the mountains. Time and space alone with you which he rarely gets in the town, wanting to keep you all to himself for one night only under the most innocent guise possible. But the way you were clinging to him the whole ride up there, chest flush to his back, tits bouncing with the bumpy road. The vibrations from the motorbike engine, humming right under him as your hands held tight to his chest. The way you looked oh so adorable in his spare helmet, adorned with his leather jacket for extra protection on the nightly drive. God, it all made him go a bit insane to be honest. Slightly delirious with the night, unable to hide his stark enjoyment the moment you hopped off onto the dirt and grass with him, and his hopeless bulge was front and center begging for some much needed attention.
He’s not complaining at the way things have turned out, however. If anything, your harsh sucking and unfair licking only serves to embolden his decision to ask you out tonight, hoping to return your sentiments once he has a bed to lay you upon. His hips starting to twitch in time against your bobbing head, eyes rolling back to the feeling of your lips tightening around his girth, swallowing around his tip once or twice more to leave him gasping for air.
A final drag of his cigarette as he leans back a little is all he can manage. As if doing so will somehow help him hold on to the reality where you’re currently sucking him off like a champ, showcasing your skills in some sort of brave bid for his continued affections. He’d have given them to you and more regardless, baby… though your efforts tonight have certainly not went unnoticed. Scratching into your scalp a little more meaningfully now, wordlessly communicating the utmost pleasure you tongue fuck out of him as he throws the dimming cigarette to the side, and can finally provide you with his full, rapt attention.
Well, he cant exactly blame you for not acknowledging the view he specifically drove you out here to witness. The sight below him is far prettier by default, so he should really be thanking you instead. Sighing with some sense of finality as the hand on your head drops to cup at your cheek, sweaty thumb gliding across your skin to rub at it lovingly, almost cumming on the spot when your gaze flits up at him to supposedly check in, and he has to bite down on his bottom lip so as to not embarrass himself too quickly.
But you make it so difficult for him to keep quiet. Even in the grander scheme of things, pushing him past his limits enough to prompt him into even taking you out here to the mountains tonight, showing off your skills by making him shudder against the still yet heated bike from the journey here, his toes scrunching in the thick boots he’s chose to wear for the road—it’s impossible, really, to shut himself up. Expressing his complete and utter adoration for you with broken whines, half gasps of your name rolling off his tongue with such ease that he’s convinced it’s meant to be. And you suck him like you’ve known him already, unable to wait for him to pop the question any longer as determination is present in the way you brace yourself against his tensed up thighs, tongue flat against the underside of his cock to run right along the veins, smirking up at him with such devious delight when he’s unable to hold himself back any longer.
A soft sigh here, a choked moan there. “Do ya—shit, sorry,” his hips tremble against you. “D’ya mind if I… Y’know, move a little?”
He’s not usually this nervous, but something about the way you bat your lashes up at him so prettily has butterflies lining his lungs. Breath hitching before he even has a chance at speaking, gulping down the nervous energy that builds in his tummy right before another wave of pleasure rolls through him, courtesy of the way your tongue flicks right at his tip, coaxing more pre out to coat your tongue as his own.
“Please?”
The abundance of strain in his voice must give his position away immediately, because he can fucking feel your smile against his cock, and then his balls when your shove his whole length down to the back of your throat, resulting in a quick gasp and a tight hold of your cheeks with both his hands. Hold on, wait a minute, just a second—but then he feels you nod. Barely, no doubt due to the amount of cock stuffing your face full at the moment, but the confirmation is there. Consent to take control and show you exactly how much he likes you, how badly he wants you, and just how much he needs to make you his more than anything he’s ever needed before.
With all the teasing you’ve thus had him endure, flaunting all that expert ability to court him further, he’s already more than on the edge of busting before even getting your consent to let loose. Shaking in his hold of your face, offering one last meagre soothing circle of his thumbs against your pretty flushed cheeks as he simply gives in. To temptation, to the intrinsic human need to have you all to himself, instincts begging him to let loose as per your kind approval.
But he’s still trying to woo you, letting out some sort of strangled whine while waiting a second or two longer. Enough to gather his senses, and not think with his dick for once this whole night.
“Will—you’ll let me know if y’need a break, right?”
Eagerly, you nod. Cheeks coated in a soft film of saliva, his balls taut at the sight alone, never mind the feeling of his sticky with pre coated thumbs as he taps at your jaw with impatience.
“Okay,” he swallows, offering you a lopsided smile as placation, a mute promise that despite what he’s about to do to you, he really, really likes you—and hopes you’ll like him too, even after this. “Okay, thank you.”
Ignoring how fucking stupid and corny he must sound by thanking you in the moment, his heart still stutters against his weak chest at the sight of you smiling back at him so keenly. Like you want him just as much as he needs you. And as someone who would like to be your future boyfriend, he may as well get a head start on giving you exactly what you want when he has the opportunity, right?
But God are you pretty like this… he knows for sure he’s gonna cum fast, even before he makes the first move on you. Because having you kneeling on top of his beloved purple hoodie, so neat and pliantly, looking up at him as if he were the stars in the sky, and not the blinding lights just behind you. Who cares how beautiful the sight might be when he’s got you between his legs, right? Begging so prettily, exhaling hot air against his pelvis as he steels himself for ruining that charming sight just below him. Now that feels like a right shame…
Though he can’t dwell on the thought for too long, impulsively drawing his hips back before he can think better of his actions, intending on start a slow enough pace to ease you in to the throat fucking but— but fuuuuck, you can’t seriously expect him to hold back any longer, right? Upon the first gag his tip fucks out of you he’s settling onto a fast snap rhythm, barely letting his cock leave from between your pretty pouty lips before he’s pushing his hips to the hilt of your cheeks again, holding onto your face to keep it still for his selfish pleasure; but you want him to be selfish, right? Asked for it when agreeing to his consent seeking, digging your nails into his quickly dropping jeans as he juts his hips more outwards, relying on his bike to keep him upright as he leans further back in an effort to fuck your throat better, deeper.
To your credit, you do look even cuter when he’s in control. Fucking between your tight lips to his hearts content, simply because he wants to, and because you’re so graciously allowing him to. Fucking like he’s got something to prove, wanting to showcase his own abilities in tandem with your own by thrusting so deep down your throat that you’ve little else to worry about. And the gagging his cock fucks out of you only has more pre dripping down your throat, his breath coming out in heated pants for air, huffing down at you with sheer concentration as your throat takes him just so well. Unfairly well, if he’s being honest. Rendering his hand useless for the foreseeable future as he already misses the tight wet heat of your mouth as he’s currently fucking it raw.
He stumbles out a greedy sigh of sexual tension, feeling it build steadily from his core. “You—you’ve got no—fuck, n-no fuckin’ idea how long I’ve—” without meaning to, his pace picks up. Deeper thrusts, faster pace, he’s lost all control now inside of you from the feeling of his hot and heavy cock gliding against your deft tongue, soft squishy cheeks welcoming his fat girth so warmly. “No idea how much I’ve wanted t’do this, dreamt of it,” he continues, struggling to keep up with himself as he huffs and puffs between his words, letting out hurried moans and soft gasps of amazement. You just feel so fucking good, got him dizzy with how good you’re making him feel. “Jacked off to the— jus’ the thought of this, God…” he rambles on a bit, a little out of it as your cheeks hollow deeper around him with his words, and he’s surrounded by this inexplicable heat. Feeling it creep up to his tummy, down to his balls where they grow tighter and tauter, his arms aching a little from the strain of keeping them flexed, thighs tensing up in a well known rhythm as he relentlessly fucks your face full, balls smacking back against your chin with every greedy thrust forward, drool staining his jeans with every draw back.
It’s difficult remaining upright when you flutter back at him with that half hooded gaze, jaw slack to accommodate his full fat length, limp in his hold to communicate utter submission. It’s enough to urge him into a frenzied haste. Well, he knew he wouldn’t last long before he even started.
“I’m—” he gulps, throwing his head back to try and hold off for a few more seconds, please. “I’m close, d’y want—” before he can finish his well intentioned question, he feels the force of your hands on the back of his thighs, helping him to bury his cock as deep as possible as a shuddered fuck is all he has the strength left to gasp.
A second later and thick, milky white ropes shoot out against the back of your throat, balls pulsing against your chin as he almost folds in on himself. His hands drop to your shoulders to help keep himself standing while his thighs shake, thrusting with faltering hips to help milk himself empty down your throat, aided by the amount of messy spit you’ve provide him. Wobbling your name out weakly as some form of thanks, hoping that the fat load he’s just forced you to swallow aids his case in securing his spot as your potential boyfriend.
And he doesn’t pull out until he’s softening, letting you nurse his spent cock until it becomes too much for him to handle. Wincing into the night as he withdraws his hips fully, and you have functionality of your jaw again.
“Wow,” he breaths, trembling with the aftershock of the orgasm you so easily tongued out of him. As far as views go, the sight of your fucked out, dopey smile has got to be amongst the best. “I uh… That was—thanks, I mean.”
Without replying, you smile back at him. Only briefly, because as soon as you’re standing you’re turning to look out at the city, just as he’d originally planned. And he’s pulling out another cigarette, lighting it with an unsteady hold as you turn back to face him.
You’d only looked for a few seconds, if that.
“I prefer this sight.” Looking him up and down, he can feel his cheeks flush under your fixation, encouraging him to tuck his cock away again with a petulant roll of his eyes.
୨ mdni ୧ dirty talk. wally cums on reader's pussy. p in v. horny!wally. squirting. pet names ( baby/babe. ) praise. established relationship. humping. backshots. ass job. afab!reader. boob play. semi-public sex. handsy!wally. hes so fine its not fair :(.
Wally was a fan of the beach. He liked the hot blazing sun, he liked the rushing waves, the sand between his toes, and how pretty you looked in your bikini. He's got wandering eyes, everybody and their grandma knows that. He'd been unable to take his eyes off of you when the two of you had gotten down to your area on the sand—when you'd bent over to set up the beach chairs he'd practically drooled down himself at the sight of your panties so tight around your ass.
"Think the sun really brings out your eyes," Wally flashes a grin almost as bright as the sun itself. His eyes are warm, all shiny with that giddy glint in his eyes at seeing you illuminated by the sun's rays. You're flattered, of course. Your boyfriend wasn't one to shy away from compliments but every single time it felt incredible to hear it from him.
A soft laugh comes from you, "Yeah? Do I look radiant, babe?"
Wally lets out a low sound of amusement, tongue poking out of his mouth in a tease. "Hey, radiant doesn't even begin to describe it," It really didn't. He adores the way you look all the time but now, you're stunning. Perhaps it's the way your bikini top clings to your tits, pushing them up so nicely that it's a miracle Wally hasn't reached out to play with them yet. It was like they were calling out to him!
"If you take a picture, it might just last longer," Wally scoffs at your words, rolling his eyes. That most definitely was one of his lines that you'd stolen from him—it was often said when you'd gotten caught staring at him after a shower.
Wally's eyes raked over your thighs, dropping down to the space between your legs momentarily. "Pretty thing," he croons, that boyish smile on his lips as per usual. It was absolute torture to try to contain himself and behave when his girl was looking so sexy. "How'd I get so lucky?" His tongue comes out to sweep over his bottom lip, a familiar glint in his eyes.
He sighs heavily, shaking his head. Wally wanted to get his hands all over you. Glancing out towards the water, he considers it for a moment before he settles himself down onto the beach chair and folds his arms across his chest. "You need sunscreen?" An excuse to feel you up. "It'd be such a shame if you got burnt, baby. What kinda boyfriend would I be if I let my girl shrivel up into a crisp? C'mon now."
You give him a long look, hands on your hips as you try to gauge the innocence of his question and request. There's a small part of you that's skeptical, knowing there was some sort of ulterior motive to his wanting to help. But you did need sunscreen, after all... soon, you nod your head, rummaging through your handbag to find the bottle of sunscreen.
When you throw it over to him, Wally catches it without missing a beat, opening it up. He squeezed a fat glob of the substance into his palm, closing the lid with his free hand before he stood. Nodding you over to the beach chair, he hums, "You're in a safe hands, baby, I promise." Safe, incredibly touchy and grabby hands, of course.
You concede to his whims, lying yourself down onto the chair on your front. The hot sun beams down onto your back, and you have to admit, the sunscreen was very much needed as he had said. Wally gives a quick glance around the beach, and he's never been more glad for your eye for quiet spots. It's some isolated area, away from the more populated parts.
Perfect for what he wants to do with you.
Before Wally can inact his plan of making you squeal and squirm and moan his name, he has to actually lather you up in sunscreen. He places down his hand onto the middle of your back, slowly spreading around the cream before he uses the other hand too and begins to rub it into your skin.
"Told you you're safe with me," He teases easily, liking the way you start making those pretty sounds he likes. Thank goodness you're facing away; you're unable to see the raging boner he's sporting in his swim shorts. Honestly? It's getting painful. In his position, he's sort of straddling your ass, not pressing down just yet.
You press your face down into the beach chair, lips parted as you start to mewl a little at his firm hands. He very much knows what he's doing. You're almost surprised he hadn't been talking out of his ass, but he's always been good with words. "That.. is good..." Your body shivers a little, relaxing beneath his touch.
Wally makes a mental note of how your legs spread beneath him. Not intentional, no, but a consequence of your relaxing figure. He keeps up his service of covering you in sunscreen for a few more minutes, being the wonderful boyfriend that he is. "That feel better, hm?" He asks quietly, glancing over towards the sun's rays and feeling a tad better in himself knowing you wouldn't be scorched.
He can't stop his eyes from flitting downwards again. Your plump folds press against the thin fabric of your underwear, peeking out a little bit. It's a sight that makes Wally even harder. Swallowing thickly, he shuts his eyes and lets out a quiet breath.
Wally's voice is quiet when he speaks next. "You look real pretty like this, baby," he shifts a little bit, scooting down your behind a little and encasing your thighs with his own. He looks up once more. His eyes flit around, just checking for anyone else, before he slowly starts to run his hands over your ass.
"So fuckin' soft..." He's reverent, fingers slowly digging into the soft flesh. You're taken off guard, not having expected him to start groping you out in public like this. But Wally's always been a bit of a wild card, hasn't he? When you start to protest, he murmurs, "Shh, there's no one there. No one's gonna interrupt us. I've got you."
"Wally..." You hate the way you subconsciously start to rock your hips up against the beach chair, dragging your heat over the surface beneath you as Wally kneads your ass. It feels good, it's a nice pressure and his hands are so warm. The feeling of his bulge pressing up against you makes you shiver, want to rock back up against it.
"Oh, baby..." Wally pauses, biting his lip. He considered himself for a long time before he threw all caution to the wind and curled his fingers beneath the fabric of your bikini bottoms. Lifting them up a little, he slipped his free hand to his swimshorts and tugged them down enough to free his cock.
"This okay, baby? Just wanna.. wanna feel you against me," Wally mumbles, his voice thick with a needy lilt. You can't really say no to him, not with how you're making a mess of your panties with your arousal. "Please, baby, just wanna feel you." You're nodding your head wordlessly, lifting your hips a little bit as if to encourage him to keep going.
Wally lets out a heavy breath. "Thank you, babe, oh, babe... love you, love you so much," There's a heat that's flushed his cheeks, and he grasps his cock within his hand. He gives it a few pumps, groaning quietly under his breaths before he slowly eased his cock against your warmth. Not pushing in yet, just rubbing.
He lets the fabric of your bikini slip back into place, keeping his cock nice and secure for him to grind against you. Precum beads at his tip, then slugs down your lips in a sticky mess. "So warm..." He mumbles, letting out a quiet whine as he begins to rut his hips forward against you. Occasionally, the head of his cock slips down and presses against your entrance, prodding you a little before he grunts and drags it back up against the curve of your ass.
"Stop teasing me," You whine quietly, voice needy. Wally shakes his head for a second, mumbling, "Not teasing you, baby, I'll give it to you in a second. Let me do this." It's a quiet plea. You whimper against the beach chair, gasping a little bit. Your sopping hole drools needily, pulsing around nothing with the tease of his cock pressing against you.
Wally gets off at the sight of you seeking him so badly, wanting him in you. "Gonna give you just what you need..." He liked the feeling of humping you, really did, but if he was totally honest with himself, the feeling of your tight hole sucking him in and holding him within you was unmatched.
He bites his lip, watching the way he'd covered your bikini in a mess. He loves it like that, the way the bikini had gone translucent and started sticking to you making his hip movements stutter. Something in him snaps. "Hold onto the chair for me, baby, that's it," Wally swallows, slowly pushing the fabric of your bikini to the side so he could see what he was doing properly.
"Look at your pretty hole opening up for me. Made for me, aren't you?" Wally's mushroom tip presses against your slit, rubbing in his precum before he pushes forward. He lets out a shuddering gasp, shutting his eyes and bracing his hands at your hips. "Fuck—" His voice breaks a little, a whine.
You tense up just a little, feeling his tip within you, before you relax slowly but surely, giving him that safe, warm feeling once more. "Wally... mmph—feels so good, so good. Deeper, please, deeper..." You wanted to feel him deep inside of you, as far as he could get within you. He ruts his hips forward against you, pressing his pelvis against you.
"You're so good..." Wally adored the feeling of you. He works himself into you before he bottoms out all the way, giving you time to adjust. "Fuck... could die right here," He means it. Being buried deep in your pretty pussy would be the best way to go for him.
"Can I move, babe? Need.. need to fuck you so bad," He breathes out, barely resisting the urge to just pound you into oblivion. He'd take his time with you, make sure you feel just as good as he does.
"I swear, Wally, if you don't start mo—"
Wally doesn't need to be told twice. He's rocking his hips forward up into you, thighs tense around your own as he thrusts into you. Your ass jiggles perfectly against him, entrancing him. "I've got you," he coos, head too pussy-drunk to even think about teasing you even further. He just wants to make you feel good.
"Like a damn vacuum—"
"D—Don't.. compare me to a vacuum..." When if you're getting the fuck of your life, his cheeky little comments aren't exactly appreciated.
"What? You're sucking me in so good, listen to that, c'mon, baby, listen," He wants you to hear the wet, sloppy sound of him digging into you, his balls slapping against your clit as he fucked you. "So wet... that all for me? Tell me, babe, you wet for me?"
"Wet for you! Wet for you, Wally, please, please, please..."
Wally lets out a quiet grunt before he flips you over beneath him, quickly pushing himself back in with your legs thrown over his shoulders. It's then that he flashes you a smirk, loving your blissed-out expression. "Taking my dick so well—I know it feels good, babe. Feels good for me too."
He cups the back of your thighs, rutting himself desperately against you and driving himself further. The feeling of your gummy walls sucking him in makes the nicest sounds slip past his lips, it makes you feel even better than you already do. "Fuck, those tits, babe." His eyes are laser-focused on the work your bikini is putting in to keep your breasts contained.
The work goes to waste when Wally reaches over and undoes the tie, freeing your boobs from their confines and tugging at your nipples to make you whine. "Never heard a sound as pretty as you when you're getting your shit rocked, ugh... that's it..." He manages to move his hips harder.
You can't think straight, not really, he's up in your guts and he's touching you so nicely that the only thing you can think of is your impending orgasm. "Aw, gonna cum all over my dick, yeah? Give it to me. I wanna feel it, babe," he coos once more, coaxing, "You're right there. Just let go, give it to me, oh, shittt..."
You squirt, fucking squirt on him.
Wally groans so loudly, the tight squeeze of your cumming alongside the gush of liquid that hits him is enough to break that knot of pressure within him. He's quick to pull out, furiously jerking his hand down his cock and coating your pussy with his cum. He doesn't come inside, but on your folds, wanting to see his release seep down you and slip into your spread hole.
"Fuck..." He growls, "You squirted on me, baby... that was so beautiful."
Your eyes are a little glassy as they meet his again, your lips parted with your soft puffs of air. You look, and feel, so blissed out. The feeling of his tip pressing against you again makes you whine. "Want you to do it again for me," he mumbles, "You've got another in you, haven't you? Yeah, you do..."
It's the sloppiest, dirtiest sound that's created by him sliding himself back in your hole, his cum and your release squelching around his cock. "Gonna make you squeal, babe."
roy harper and donna troy fucking virgin!reader for the first time ╱ mdni, soft dom!donna and soft dom!roy, fingering, p in v ˚.✦
You’re trembling before the two of them even touch you, standing in the soft glow of the loft lamp in Roy’s apartment, heart hammering so loud you swear they can hear it. Donna’s smile is all warmth and quiet power, her dark curls framing her face like a crown, while Roy leans against the bedpost with that lazy archer’s grin, green eyes soft but hungry.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Donna murmurs, stepping close enough that you can smell the faint lavender of her shampoo. She cups your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip. “You’re safe, yeah? If anything feels wrong, you say the word and we stop. No rush. We want this to feel good for you.”
Roy chuckles low, the sound vibrating through you. “She’s right, baby. Look at you, already blushing so pretty. Makes me want to kiss every inch of that nervous little smile off your face.”
You let out a shaky giggle, the sound escaping before you can stop it. “I—I just… I’ve never… with anyone, let alone both of you…”
Donna’s eyes sparkle. “That’s what makes it perfect. We’re your firsts. And we’re going to be so, so gentle. C'mere.”
She guides you to the bed, sitting you down between them. Roy’s hand slides up your thigh, slow and reverent, while Donna leans in to kiss you first, her tongue teasing yours until you’re melting. When she pulls back, Roy’s there, claiming your mouth next, tasting like mint and mischief.
“God, you’re sweet,” he whispers against your lips. “So fucking sweet. We’re gonna take such good care of you.”
Donna’s fingers hook under the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly. “Arms up, beautiful.” You obey, giggling again when the cool air hits your skin and your nipples tighten instantly. “Look at these pretty tits. Already so responsive for us.”
Roy groans appreciatively. “Fuck, Donna, she’s perfect. Gonna make her feel so full.”
They undress you together, hands everywhere but never rushing, kisses dropped on your shoulders, your collarbone, the soft curve of your belly. By the time you’re naked between them, you’re a nervous, giggly mess, thighs pressed together.
Donna eases you back against the pillows, settling between your legs. “Spread for me, baby. Just a little. That’s it, good girl.” Her praise hits you like warm honey, making you whimper and hide your face in Roy’s shoulder.
Roy laughs softly, stroking your hair. “No hiding, princess. We want to see every pretty reaction. You’re doing so well already.”
Donna’s fingers, slick with lube she warmed between her palms, trace your folds first, feather-light.
“So wet already,” she coos. “Is that all for us? Such a good, eager little virgin.”
You whine, hips twitching. “Donna… it’s embarrassing!”
“Shh, none of that.” She circles your clit slowly, once, twice, until your breath hitches into a giggle. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. This pussy is gorgeous. And it’s ours tonight.”
Roy nuzzles your neck, nipping gently. “Listen to her, baby. She knows what she’s doing. Relax into it.”
Donna presses one finger in—slow, so slow—curling just right. The stretch is new, strange, but her thumb keeps rubbing your clit in lazy circles and the praise never stops. “Feel that? Just one finger and you’re already clenching so sweetly. Imagine how good it’ll feel when Roy’s inside you. You’re going to take him so well.”
You’re panting now, little nervous giggles bubbling out between moans. “It—oh god—it feels weird but… good? Really good.”
“That’s my girl,” Donna praises, adding a second finger after long minutes of gentle scissoring. She pumps them in and out with aching care, curling against that spot inside you until your toes curl. “You’re opening up so beautifully, taking my fingers like you were made for it.”
Roy’s hand slides down to play with your breast, pinching your nipple just enough to make you squeak. “Hear that little sound? Fuck, she’s so responsive. Gonna make her come on your fingers first, Donna? Get her all soft and dreamy before I slide in?”
Donna nods, eyes locked on yours. “Yes. Come for me, sweetheart. You’re safe. We’ve got you.”
The orgasm crashes over you gentle but overwhelming. Your back arches, a high, giggly moan spilling out as you pulse around her fingers.
Donna keeps moving slowly, drawing it out, murmuring, “That’s it, beautiful. You’re glowing.”
You’re still trembling when Roy shifts, shedding his boxers. His cock is thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip. He strokes himself once, eyes soft on you. “See this? It’s all for you, baby. But we’re going slow. Inch by inch. You tell me if it’s too much.”
Donna leans over you, mouth closing around one of your nipples while her fingers keep teasing your clit. “I’ve got your tits, love. Focus on how good they feel. Roy’s going to fill you up now.”
Roy notches the head of his cock against you, rubbing it through your folds. “Breathe for me, princess. In… out. That’s my good girl.”
You whine the second he starts pushing just the tip, but it’s already a stretch. “Roy, fuck it’s big—”
“I know, baby, I know.” His voice is pure soothing gravel, one hand on your hip, the other stroking your hair. “Just the tip right now. Feel how wet you are? Donna got you so ready. You’re taking me so fucking well already.”
Donna switches to your other nipple, sucking harder while her free hand pinches the first. “So filthy and so sweet at the same time.”
Another inch slides in. You whimper, nails digging into Roy’s arms, but the sound turns into a breathy giggle when Donna swirls her tongue just right. “It burns a little… but oh keep going?”
Roy groans, forehead pressed to yours. “That’s my brave girl. You’re clenching around me like you never want me to leave. So tight, so hot—fuck, you feel perfect.”
Donna lifts her head just enough to kiss your cheek. “You’re doing amazing, sweetheart. Half his cock is already buried in you. Feel how full you are? That’s Roy taking your virginity, god, I love you like this.”
You’re a mess of nerves and heat, laughing softly even as tears prick your eyes from the stretch. “It’s so much… I want all of it. Please?”
Roy’s smile is soft and filthy. “Yeah? Want every inch, baby? Okay—deep breath.”
He sinks the rest of the way in one careful glide, bottoming out with a shared moan. You feel impossibly full, split open in the best way, and Donna’s mouth is back on your tits, sucking and biting gently while Roy stays perfectly still inside you.
“Full,” you gasp, giggling again because the nerves won’t stop. “Roy, I—I can feel you everywhere.”
“I know, princess. I’m so deep in this pretty virgin cunt.” His voice drops, filthy now. “Gonna stay right here until you’re used to me. Then I’m gonna fuck you slow and sweet until you come around my cock.”
Donna’s fingers find your clit again, rubbing in tiny circles. “You’re going to come so hard for us, beautiful. Our good girl.”
Roy starts moving, tiny thrusts at first, barely pulling out before sliding back in. Each one drags against that spot Donna found earlier, and the stretch turns from burn to liquid heat. You’re moaning, giggling, whining all at once.
Donna nips your nipple. “Told you she’d love it. Listen to those pretty sounds. You’re taking him so well, baby. Look down, see how your pussy stretches around his cock? So slick and perfect.”
Roy’s pace builds, still gentle but deeper now. “That’s it fuck grip me just like that. This cunt was made for us. Gonna fill you up with so much praise and so much cum tonight.”
You’re lost in it, the slow drag of Roy’s cock, Donna’s hot mouth on your breasts, their voices wrapping around you like silk.
“G-gonna come again,” you whimper, nervous giggle slipping out. “I—I feel like I’m gonna—”
“Do it,” Donna orders softly, pinching both nipples at once. “Come on Roy’s cock for your first time. Let us feel you.”
Roy kisses you deep, swallowing your cry as the orgasm rips through you, harder than the first, your walls fluttering and squeezing him until he groans your name like a prayer.
“Fuuuuck. Good girl, good fucking girl. Milk me just like that. You’re perfect. So perfect.”
They don’t stop until you’re boneless and glowing, Roy spilling deep inside you with a low, praising moan, Donna’s lips never leaving your skin.
After, they pull you between them, Roy’s cock still softening inside you, Donna stroking your hair, both of them murmuring endless praise.
“You were incredible, baby,” Roy whispers, kissing your temple.
Donna smiles against your neck. “Our sweet girl, we’re keeping you forever.”
You giggle again, sleepy and sated, nestled between your two partners, safe, full, and utterly theirs.
WARNINGS | explicit language, explicit sexual content, smoking (weed), sam is sort of whiny about condoms, oral (f receiving), making out, breast/nipple play, grinding, non-penetrative sex
SYNOPSIS I sleeping over at sam’s usually entails the following: a lack of sleep, a lot of sex, and a few annoyances in between.
A/N I fear not, the over-use of em-dashes has always been my style and i have never (and will never) use AI. i’ve also never written for sam before so i hope this is interesting!! i got this idea in the middle of the night and wrote it in one sitting instead of doing my homework :(
request to be added to current and future taglists HERE!
MASTERLIST | STARDEW VALLEY MASTERLIST
3:26 AM.
That’s what the blinking symbols read in neon green as you squint at Sam’s digital clock. It sits on his nightstand, with a thick layer of dust that has accumulated over its flat top — the only area where the dust has been disturbed is over the button that snoozes said clock.
It’s not uncommon for Sam to reach over and smack the “off” button rather than rising immediately in the morning. His aim is precise, perfected by years of snoozing and running late.
The clock’s brightness is turned up high, and you know you can’t truly fall asleep when there’s an eerie green glow that paints your closed eyelids green every time you try. Instead, you lay in Sam’s bed, motionless, listening to him snore lightly. Part of you wants to shift, turn the other way, but then you’ll be facing Sam — and that’s a level of intimacy that you know is a slippery slope.
Especially when it comes to situationships.
Especially when it comes to Sam.
Maybe there’s a deeper reason that you’re fixated on this stupid clock every time you sleep over. Maybe it’s reminiscent of the fact that your time with Sam isn’t perceivable; there isn’t any permanence. Or maybe it’s just because it’s one of the things that’s preventing you from falling asleep.
You make a choice — you turn over, facing Sam instead of the nightstand and the glowing green clock.
Much to your surprise, as you settle and look at Sam’s face — expecting him to be fast asleep — he’s looking back at you, bleary-eyed and sleepy, but awake. It makes you jolt a little, surprised and a little embarrassed that he’s been watching you without your knowledge. Not that you’d been doing anything weird — just the fact that you’d been perceived without initially knowing it.
While you’re ruminating on this — and it feels like hours more than seconds, the latter of which it must be in reality — Sam’s tired expression slowly shifts into an amused one, a smirk coming onto his face as he pulls you in closer. His hands are warm and dry as they slip behind you, gripping your waist and squeezing gently. As if he’s making sure that you’re real, tangible.
You are, of course, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. It comes so naturally, shifting closer to him and slotting your body against his. One of your legs hooks over his hip, pulling his lower half flush to yours. It reminds you that you’re both still unclothed from the waist down.
“Hey you.” His voice sounds raspy, thick with sleep and light dehydration. He inhales deeply, burying his face in your neck and squeezing your waist again. His hands start to travel upwards, slowly, mirroring his grogginess. “How long have you been up?”
“Just a bit,” you respond, not wanting to tell him that you never sleep when you stay over at his place.
Not that it’s personal. But the annoying clock and the stillness of the air in the room and the uncertainty all mixed together, along with other things you can’t think of at the moment, are all reasons that come to mind to explain it. None of which sound reasonable nor nice, so why bring it up?
Sam chuckles lowly, reaching over you to grab his cart. He fumbles for a moment before you hear his nails scrape on the surface of the nightstand, and he grabs it. For a brief moment his face is illuminated with neon purple as he hits it, and you see his dilated pupils as his gaze fixates on you. Your gaze drifts between his eyes and his lips, which are slightly chapped as they suck at the mouthpiece of the device.
He finally pulls the cart away from his lips and puts it down, using the same hand to gently cup your face. His touch immediately relaxes you, and you nuzzle into his palm slightly as he thumbs at your cheek. His thumb slowly traces over your cheekbone, your jawline, before he places it over the center of your lips, gently pulling the lower one down to wordlessly ask you to part them for him. You oblige, your jaw slackening slightly as your lips part, and he exhales the smoke into your mouth, grinning as he watches your eyelids flutter.
“Good girl,” he mutters, before pulling you into a searing kiss.
He tastes like sleep, like weed, a little bit like the Joja cola that he’d chugged before falling asleep in your arms a few hours ago. That — the quintessential taste of Sam — ignites something within you once again, and you kiss him back with such fervor that he moans desperately against your lips as you shove your tongue past his.
You feel his grip on your ass now, squeezing your cheeks and pulling your crotch flush to his. His cock, half hard now, twitches against your cunt, the warmth of it sticky from your previous rounds as well as the new precum beginning to leak from his tip.
“I don’t have any more condoms…” he whines, pulling away from the kiss to start nipping at your jawline and neck. “We used all of ‘em earlier…”
There’s a slight hopefulness in his voice that annoys you. You reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, which is sticky with gel and hairspray and who knows what else, and tug on the stiff strands roughly, pulling his lips off of the tender spot on your neck. A new bruise is already forming where he was attached, dark and purple and glaring.
“You know what that means,” you growl, the annoyance clear in your voice.
Sam whimpers, lowering his gaze guiltily. He hadn’t explicitly asked — but that hopeful tone was enough.
He wanted to fuck you so badly. Wanted to fuck you even more without a condom, but you wouldn’t let him. And he was usually such a good boy, listening and not really minding. But now? Right now?
He needed nothing more than to be buried balls-deep inside of your tight, hot cunt. The mere thought of it makes his cock so hard it hurts, and you can feel it twitching violently against your upper thigh. He can’t help but buck his hips, grinding his aching length against your smooth skin as he lets out another desperate, choked whine.
“I-I’m sorry… ‘M sorry… Just need so you bad… So fucking bad…” he moans, his hips moving of their own accord. His cheeks burn with shame, and as he buries his face in your chest you can feel the heated flesh against yours. He starts kissing and biting at your breasts, above your nipples just in case you’re still mad at him — he wants to play it safe. He lets out soft, whimpery mewls as his cock starts gliding against your thigh with more ease, the slickness of his precum easing the sensation.
“You get desperate so quickly,” you marvel, your voice making Sam moan even louder. You reach down to grab his cock, not caring to be too gentle, and you hear him inhale sharply as his hot length throbs in your hand. “It’s a little pathetic. But it’s cute too.”
You turn back around, pressing your plush ass against his crotch — eliciting another eager whimper from the blonde man behind you — and position his cock against your wet slit, so that he’s fucking your thighs while his length is pressed against your slick pussy.
He quickly realizes what’s happening and eagerly starts thrusting again, one hand gripping your hip to guide your movements to be perfectly in sync with his.
“F-fuck… Fuck yes…” he groans, sinking his teeth into your shoulder and encouraging a moan from you too. “Can feel you getting wetter, f-fuck…” He starts thrusting faster, the slightly embarrassing amount of your slick arousing him even further. The sound of it is incredibly lewd, the wet squelching making your cheeks flush with heat as you start to whimper, his tip brushing against your slowly engorging clit with each thrust.
He picks up on this, feeling your squirming every time his hips collide with yours. The hand that’s been gripping your hip moves downward slightly, lifting your thigh and allowing you to hook your leg over his hip once more. You reach down, pressing his cock against your weeping slit with more pressure, and the two of you moan in unison at the surge of pleasure that comes with it.
“K-keep doing that!” he demands, trying to hold a dominant tone but failing as his voice cracks with desperation.
The sticky sounds of skin against skin join the lewd slickness, but you’re too busy fighting the impending feeling of your orgasm. “S-Sam…” you moan, arching your back against him, “‘m f-fucking close…”
“Don’t say it like that,” he begs, the clear pleasure in your voice making his balls tighten up, his own orgasm approaching. He can’t even begin to explain himself before he cums hard, the warm thickness of it erupting into your hand as you guide his thrusts against your pussy. He groans loudly, his hips stuttering against yours but still continuing to buck weakly as you gasp at the sensation.
“That was fast,” you murmur, starting to buck your hips back against his, faster than the rhythm that he’s currently using.
“I didn’t say I was done yet,” he protests, pressing kisses to the back of your neck. He grabs your breast, squeezing tightly as he presses himself flush against you. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”
He pouts, sitting up and looking down at you as you lay flat on your back, meeting his gaze. The genuinely remorseful look in his eyes makes you giggle, and you can’t help but pull him back down into a kiss.
“I’m just teasing. You’re always good. I keep coming back for a reason, hm?” you say playfully, lightly. He kisses you again, and you can feel his lips curling into a smile as he does so.
“Mean,” he mumbles, amused, as he starts kissing down your neck, then your chest. He reaches your nipples, his eyelids fluttering for a moment as he truly takes in your gorgeous form. His lips wrap around one of your hardened nipples, his fingers gently pinching at the other. Moaning softly, you tangle your fingers in his tousled blonde locks again, pulling his face closer into your cleavage. He sucks harder on your nipple, his tongue circling it before flicking at it, and you let out a squeal as he bites down gently. He chuckles as he releases your swollen bud from his lips, continuing to kiss down your body, his hands tracing your curves appreciatively.
He pulls away for a moment, the warmth of his touch fading much faster than expected, and you let out a whine, making him quicken his pace. He nudges your legs apart to settle between them, pressing kisses to your lower stomach and shushing you gently, soothing you wordlessly. It makes your face flood with desperate heat once again, to be so obviously eager for him, and for him to be just as obviously hungry for you.
He licks at the dip of your hip, making you twitch and bite your lower lip. He notices, of course, and gives you a shit-eating grin before he trails a long lick from your outer to inner thigh. He inhales deeply as he settles near your pussy too, which makes you bite your lip harder and nudge him with your thigh, as if to say, stop being gross and get on with it.
“I’m obsessed with you,” he groans, the sheer arousal in his voice making your eyes widen and your cunt clench around nothing. It’s the last thing he says before leaning in and licking a fat stripe up the length of your pussy, making your eyes flutter shut as you cry out without even realizing. “Tastes so sweet,” he continues, his voice muffled as it vibrates against your cunt, making your thighs close around his head. He grabs your hips with both of his hands, his eyes rolling back in his head as his senses are overwhelmed with you — you’re all he can smell, taste, see, touch, and smell — and he can’t get enough of it, of you.
His tongue laps at your twitching hole, needy for your sweet slick, not wanting to waste a single drop of your honeyed essence. His nose keeps bumping against your clit as he does this, and he can feel your impatience growing with each teasing rub. Before you can scold him, his own greed makes him give in, and he starts lapping at your neglected clit, making you mewl and tug on his hair, which only encourages him further.
He pulls away for a moment, releasing his grip from your hip with one of his hands to move between your legs, playing with your clit teasingly. He pinches the swollen bud between his thumb and forefinger, grinning when you squirm and arch your back, slurring his name in a way that’s half aroused and half exasperated. He leans in close again, so that you can feel his warm breath on your soaking cunt, as he plays with your sensitive pearl. His fingers gently pull back the hood of your clit, and you cry out as he suckles on the exposed bud directly, the pleasure increasing imminently. Your mind goes fuzzy as he swirls his tongue around your clit, his hands returning to grab your hips and pull you as close as possible as he sucks and licks at your pussy.
“N-no, f-fuck… ‘m gonna cum…!” you slur, thighs twitching around Sam’s head as you start stuttering and rambling, crying out for Sam. He tightens his grip on you, both to ground you and to pull you even closer to his lips as he applies more pressure to your aching cunt with his tongue.
Your orgasm hits you hard — harder than usual because of how long he made you wait for it this time, and how close you’d been before. “F-fuck, Sam!” you sob, bucking your hips against his face and pushing him by the back of his head, closer to your cunt as you ride out your orgasm.
Your grip on his hair loosens and your thighs go slack after a few moments, and you’re left staring at the ceiling, which you now realize is still illuminated with that stupid neon green light. Panting, you look down at Sam, who’s still lazily kissing at your inner thighs. His hands are rubbing your outer thighs, and you can feel the callouses on his fingertips and his palms.
“Can I get a kiss?” you ask, your voice sounding much more tired than you thought it would. Sam immediately looks up at you, his eyes sparkling, and crawls up towards you to kiss you. His lips are warm and slick, and it tastes like your wetness — something you’ve grown accustomed to, the more that you see Sam.
After you break the kiss to catch your breath, Sam slumps against your chest, putting his full weight on you and making you groan. He yawns, nuzzling into your chest, pressing his half hard length against you, wanting you to feel it but being too sleepy to do much more than that at the moment.
At first his weight on top of you is a little uncomfortable — just because you’re so unused to it. But then he rolls off of you and curls up at your side, throwing a toned arm over you and pulling you close to him. And it’s just enough to remind you that he’s there, without being suffocating. Even if you’re facing him.
It’s better than looking at that damn clock.
@ petrichor-han 2026. do not translate or repost without my permission. // divider credit: @huraxy-dividers
please consider reblogging and/or leaving a few kind words if you enjoyed this fic :) tumblr posts revolve around reblogs, and i'd appreciate the gesture!!
VICTIM #1 : jason peter todd. you saw him, you wanted him. quiet boy in the back of the library, too built for a guy with his nose shoved in a battered copy of jane eyre. he thought he knew girls like you, the same shaking tactic worked every time. not this time, you weren’t the girls who tried to win him over with batted lashes. you just had a stronger will than them.
WATCH OUT .ᐟ smut, MANEATER!READER, glasses!jason todd, booksmart!jason todd, he thinks he’s capable of resisting maneater!reader but noooo, riding, marking, thighsman!jason, he also low-key is a tits man, reader chews bubble gum, rich!reader, munch!jason, shy!jason, yes, reader is a player but she really wants jay, body rolls because we all have them and this is size-inclusive, we’re not all skinny bitches, phone sex??? kinda, dirty talk, switch!jay, canonically bi!reader, genius!literate!reader, she's smart, y'all, chance encounters, jason really wants that cookie, glasses kink (reader’s side), panties kink!jason, m.masturbation, seduction, shameless!reader, he quickly becomes obsessed with reader in a sexy way, dw, whimperer!jason, we love a reader who’s a bad person
ADDITIONALS : bad girls (m.i.a)
The librarian took an eyeful of your ass when you walked in. She was on the phone with her loving boyfriend.
You didn't mind one bit. You'd come in for a copy of Sense and Sensibility so you could scoff at the characters, but it wasn't like you'd dress for the occasion. Even if you stuck out like a sore thumb in tiny denim shorts.
The library was pretty much a hunting ground. More often than not you found the best fuck from the boys and girls with their heads in a book. Bars had been filled with men who think they're more well endowed than they are, but the three inch dicks spoke for themselves.
A nerd you had sex with last week sidled up to you, rubbing the back of his neck. The vomit green sweater he had on almost made you retch. Some guys had such terrible fashion choices. "Hey." He murmured, side-glancing you, your nose almost wrinkled. "Remember me? You said you'd call me."
You almost laughed. "I did, didn't I? I guess the bad sex just put me off."
"You said it was amazing." He mumbled, his face flushing. You didn't miss his glance to your tits.
You actually laughed this time, snapping your fingers in his face. "Eyes up here." You smirked, looking him over. Your hand ran down the coarse fibres of his sweater. "Practice how to fuck a girl, then I'll call you." A six foot two hunk of something walked through the shelves behind the guy you were currently talking to.
This guy had your attention. He'd settled himself at a table with Jane Eyre, pushing his glasses up his nose as he opened the book, perusing the front page. Huh. Graphic tee, leather jacket, worn jeans and this guy was musing over a classic.
Your eyes swept him, the lip bite was involuntary but he just triggered that. His jaw was begging for some purple marks, you could lick up that popping vein in his neck. Leather creaked and strained against his biceps— mm, what you wouldn't give to ride those. The pretty flush on his cheeks, they'd bloom a deep scarlet when you get him under you. Not if, when.
Who's this? And did he know he was making your panties wet?
"Bitch." The guy beside you — Mark, or something boring like that — grunted as he walked off.
"This bitch made you call her mommy." You clapped back, eyes still on the fine man across the room. His lips were rosy, you just knew this man ate pussy.
Your heels thunked on the carpet as you strutted over. "Have we met before?" You asked, drawing his attention away from the book. "Could've sworn I've seen you from somewhere." Yeah, the line was overused. That was the point.
"Uh, no, we haven't." Jason replied awkwardly, even more so as your palms rested on the table. He got a full view of you. Your skin had the glow of body oil, your gloss put a magnifying glass to your lips, crisp eyeliner, sunglasses perched on your head — who the fuck wore those to be indoors — chain dangling from your neck. Following the metal led to a clear view of your chest hidden by the lace of a bra peeking over a leopard print cami. You looked like you'd walked out of a Y2K magazine, like all the girls who’d shoved their tits in his face. He wasn’t dealing with that again. "Can I... help you with something?" He had pretty eyes. Where does a man get off, having those eyes?
You pointed to the book about American history beside him. “Can you pass me that?” Of all the god-awful flirting tactics that usually worked, it didn’t this time. He just muttered “sure” and passed you the book, going back to Jane Eyre.
What the fuck? How thick was his skull?
You walked out with frustration bubbling under heated skin. That was the first time a man didn’t stutter at the sight of you. He’d just acted like a book was more interesting than your lips. Fuck him for being that sexy and playing hard to get.
You’d missed his flush when his eyes fixed on your thighs as you exited.
Your stupid Carerra Cabriolet had broken down on the side of the road, when it was fucking boiling out. At least you’d chosen another tank today, it made things a little easier for you when you had your tools out, bent under the bonnet of the car, trying to figure out the problem.
The roar of a bike almost deafened you, until it stopped right beside you. Your eyes locked on faded Levis, biker boots, but those arms were unmistakeable. The tip of your tongue traced the outline of your canine, lips stretching the longer you recognised that build, those god-gifted hands that were tracing the pages of a book just a few days ago.
Would you look at that. The library hottie.
He lifted his helmet off, ruffling his flattened hair so it’d stick up. The black fell in front of mossy green eyes, which took you in. You were the same girl from the library, the one who he accidentally checked out when you walked away. The sun kissed your thighs from its perch in the sky, his gaze trailed up, up, tracing, memorising the black lace of panties peeking above the waistband of your shorts like they did again with your tank top. You seemed to be a fan of that. Your chest rose and fell with every laboured breath. He caught the tongue tracing your canine. Maybe he shouldn’t have stopped.
“Car trouble?” He asked, hooking his helmet on the handlebars of his bike. “That’s some great luck, in this heat.” His eyes followed a bead of sweat trailing down your neck. His tongue ached— fuck, why was it doing that?
“I sure am lucky.” You replied, velvet voice making something in his fingers twitch. And somewhere else that he wouldn’t mention right now. “D’you know your way around cars? I could use some help here.”
He should say no. He should say he didn’t know shit then drive off in his bike, but he wasn’t a liar and he wasn’t gonna strand you out here in high heats. So, yeah, he took his swelteringly hot jacket off — fashion over comfort if he wasn’t Red Hood — slinging it over your car’s trunk. “Yeah. Yeah, I can help.” He was so going to regret this.
Your eyes were still on him. The black highlighting your eyes only making warmth creep up his spine and making its way to his ears, but you didn’t budge. You just stared. His hands hovered by either sides of your waist, eyes tracing the curves, the rolls of your stomach as you bent a little towards him. A soft “fuck” was at the tip of his tongue.
His hands gripped your waist, moving you gently— shit, the callouses on his hands. They were rough on your skin; you weren’t afraid to somehow into that. Maybe all the men who overuse hand cream sensitised you to the guys who actually used their hands. “Sorry, can I just…”
He was keeping talking to a minimum. It made you smile, especially as his black tank brushed your back and his fingers pressed into the skin where your tank rode up. “Sorry.” He mumbled again, looking under the bonnet. His eyes caught the spark plug. “Here.” He gestured to your spark plug. “You’ve got a worn spark plug. Got a spare?”
“Yeah, I do.” You bent down, you felt his eyes slide over your ass, greedy, and down your legs, stopping at your high-heeled boots. Ripping his eyes away from you as you stood up, crisp wing striking again. He didn’t miss the glint in your irises when he took the plug from you, manicured nails scraping his fingers. His soft muttered “thanks” punctuated the replacement of the spark plug, and without another word, he backed off to his bike. Hoping to get away before his brain betrayed him.
“Can I get your number?” Your voice stopped him in his tracks. He tried not to look at your lips, your moving jaw as you chewed on spearmint gum that burned the back of his throat. “In case this kinda thing happens again. I could use a guy who’s good with his hands.” You really would use him.
“I, um, ok.” He swallowed, putting out his hand for your phone. You gave it to him, the freakishly soft pads of your fingers caressing his knuckles this time. He was fucked. But he keyed in his phone number, pressing the ‘save contact’ button and giving it back to you. You read the contact name.
“Jason.” His name slid over your tongue, through his veins, straight to his dick. What was it about you? He swore he was better than this. “Can finally put a name to the face.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t.” He regretted that as soon as it left his mouth. Now he couldn’t avoid making a connection, treating you like you actually meant something in his life. If he let you mean something, you’d distract him, he knew your type.
Oh, he didn’t know shit about you.
Your laugh shot up his spine, your name rang a million times in his brain when you gave it. It rang in the daydream of you on top of him, clothed pussy moving slow, languid, over his cock. It rang every time he moaned your name in that fucked up image. He— he had to stop that. Now. “See you.” He almost tripped over his words, swinging a leg to mount his bike. Your smile was fresh in his head. Your tongue, your teeth that and caught your bottom lip as you watched him drive away.
You’d have him. One way or another.
Your name lit up his phone one random Friday afternoon. A text, a simple one. Your shower stopped working suddenly and you needed his help.
“M’not a fucking plumber,” He muttered, but it was pathetic how quickly he stood up and got his jacket on. Pathetic was how fast his index hooked his keys like he was, line and sinker. Maybe he was your plumber. And mechanic. He could be anything you wanted him to be.
This was either the start of a really bad joke, or highly erotic pornography.
He hesitated before knocking on your door. Ignoring how he’d spent the last five minutes driving above the speed limit. Denial was one of five stages of grief, or its distant cousin: horniness.
He waited. One minute second, two minutes seconds, three— the door swung open.
A silk robe was wrapped around your body. Tied in a knot. Damp hair plastered to your cheeks, valley of your tits covered with cascading droplets that disappeared down the V of the fabric. Very… flimsy fabric that was covering you. Barely. Your no-gloss smile still stole his gaze. How were your lashes curled with no mascara? Your leg peeked out from beneath the silk. His breath hitched. His face flushed. “You came.” You purred.
“You called.” He replied stiffly, stepping in. Kicking off his shoes by the door. Your apartment was… luxurious, but he wasn’t expecting less. He was almost expecting a brothel. But that was stereotyping, he wasn’t a big fan of that. “So, your shower just stopped working?”
“Out of the blue.”
“What makes you think I know how to fix it?”
“A hunch.” The grin you had on made him feel like he ate shit. The defeatist sigh was his white flag.
“Your hunch would be right.” You notched the win on your robe’s belt. You watched his ass as he disappeared into your bathroom. Bingo.
It wasn’t like you were lying about the shower, it had stopped right before you were about to put on a hair mask. It just gave you a very good excuse to call your pet project over.
“Looks like it’s a pipe issue, I got it.” He called over his shoulder. This bathtub was bigger than his single bed. But then again it attested to the difference between la bourgeoisie and la pété thune. Draped over a radiator was your loungewear. Tiny things— rib-knit cami, sleep shorts that probably stopped just short of your ass, matching white panties. In a row, right there.
The panties caught his eye. They were soft, lace at the trim, satin otherwise, fuckin’ gorgeous. You wore those. Just to sleep, you wore those. What the fuck. Why the fuck. Why the fuck was his mouth watering? His tongue heavy? Aching? Begging to circle your clit over the fabric with his tongue just so he could watch the fabric dampen, drench, cling to your cunt? He had to get out of here. Drive off. Start a new life, maybe crash at Dick’s place in Blüdhaven. He’d be safer there.
He found the pipe problem. He fixed it, it was backed up. The panties called his name; since when was he susceptible to that?
“Those were a gift from Victoria’s Secret.” He hadn’t noticed his gaze was fixed on the white fabric draped on the radiator. It snapped back to you. You were leaning against the doorframe, tongue back on your canine. Now that he looked again, he realised it was pointy, like a vampire.
Now that he looked again, he wanted it to drag up his neck.
He looked back at the panties, back to you, tripping over his tongue. “I—I didn’t mean to—” He still stood up, ready to plead guilty and for forgiveness, but your hum stopped his train of thoughts.
You pointed at the panties, tilting your head. “You can keep those.” His brain almost short-circuited. Huh? “I don’t mind.” This was… if you were sane, you’d kick him out. Scream. Maybe get a restraining order.
“I—” Words caught in his throat, “you—”
“Keep them.” You insisted softly, picking up the panties, finger hooking into his belt loops. A sharp tug brought him close, too close for his dick to be comfortable in his jeans. Your fingers slipped into his front pocket of his Levis, tucking the satin panties into them. Never breaking eye contact. Your spearmint breath fanning across his lips. “Never gave you a proper thank you. For saving me twice.”
“You don’t need to do that.” He almost leaned in himself. To get a taste of whatever was on your tongue, to satiate himself while he didn’t have access to your pussy.
Your lips tugged. Into a smile that burned his insides. “Sure?”
“No.” He breathed, and his whole body melted before your lips even captured his. More like devoured. That was a better word for the nasty smack of lips on lips and how your nails carded into his hair. How you pushed your saliva into his mouth with your tongue, forcing his lips apart with a sharp tug to the hair at his nape.
He couldn’t stop the moan. The whine. His hands helplessly grabbed at your thighs, silk bunching up, itching to undo the robe, lips attaching to your jugular, sloppy, open-mouthed, greedy kisses stamped onto your skin.
You got him.
You’d got him, but you pulled him off your neck by the collar of his shirt. “Another time, sweetie.” His head followed the drag of your finger down his jaw, pressing into your finger as it trailed down his chest. “Gotta finish my shower.”
“When?” He rasped, pupils blown. Dick hard. Breath laboured after you pulled all the oxygen he had from his lungs.
You paused, pouting as you mused. “I’ll call you.”
Fuck.
He wished it was you riding him. He had to settle for your panties instead.
The fabric was soft against his palms, even more so against his dick as he fisted it. This wasn't even a measured affair, his sweats were haphazardly pulled down so the waistband collected around his upper thigh. Same went for his boxers, sheets only covering him from the knees down. Everything was silent, too still, save for his frantic breaths, whimpers and faint thwaps of his hand moving up and down his cock.
He needed your cunt to drag up his dick and make it wet, he needed your pussy to suck in his dick, to use it, use him, he needed your mouth by his ear telling him how good he made you feel. He was incomplete without it.
"Fuck, ma, please," He didn't know why he was begging, when you couldn't hear him. You were in your apartment, you couldn't hear him calling out your name to God knows who. Maybe worshipping at your altar was enough to grant him permission to, y'know, come.
Some sick part of him wanted to call you up. Ask you whether he could finally have an orgasm he'd been chasing for the last thirty minutes, it was a twisted thought, but his hand scrambled for his phone on his bedside table. Almost knocking it over amidst his moans.
He’d put you on speed dial at some point. He’d blacked out when he did, apparently, he couldn’t remember when. Sometime between fantasising you on top of him and picturing eating your pussy. The two weren’t mutually exclusive.
His thumb frantically tapped on the green button, knowing it was an ungodly hour of the morning. Knowing you said you’d call him when you wanted to fuck. He just wasn’t pressed to wait.
But you knew it’d happen. You’d been ticking off the hours in your head, laying on your king-size, for when this six-two hunk of a man would crack and call you, desperate for your permission. You’d played the waiting game before.
So you waited again.
Let the phone ring for ten seconds, really dragging it out, letting him delay himself that tiny bit more for an ego trip. He stared at your caller ID the longer his moans grew louder. His hand slowed down because he hadn’t heard your voice yet, he hadn’t asked you—
“Hello?” Your voice, sickly sweet, rang out from the phone. He put you off speaker, slamming the phone to his ear, so close, so ready, whining into the microphone. Your lips curled on the other end.
You could only hear his breathing. His paced up puffs of breath punctuated by needy whines which had your panties soaking through. Gosh, this really was something. “Speak up, Jason.” You sing-songed, prompting a low groan from him.
“Need t’come, ma.” He couldn’t recognise his own voice. Raspy, hoarse, from all the broken sounds he’d been letting out for god knows how long. “Can I—? Please — shiiiit — please lemme, m’so close.”
Your laugh was taunting. It only shot a shiver up his spine. “Oh, Jay,” He could practically hear your smirk through the phone, “you really need my pussy, huh?”
“Fuck, yeah, I do.” He nodded frantically, hand picking up the pace around his cock. Satin dragging against his skin. “Wanna — haah— feel that fuckin’ pussy around my cock, wanna— wanna taste it, m’gonna eat you so good, ma—”
Huh. You’d managed to break this guy in a matter of a week, an incredible feat, even for your standards. Here he was, babbling about going down on you. Your index crept down to circle your clit over your shorts. Your long sigh soothed his ear. “Mhm, Jay, I know, baby— come f’me?” The sugar talking earned you a deep moan from the other end, the shallow breaths and whimper of your name telling you he’d definitely come. His head thudded back against the pillows, covering his dick with your panties so they caught every thick rope of come. He felt so dirty. “Sounded so good, sweetie." That made it feel better. Less pervy.
There was a pause as he caught his breath and composure. “Fuck, ma, when m’I gonna see you?”
You'd never felt like this before.
Jason's tongue dragged over your cunt, almost folding you in half in the effort to make your thighs clamp around his head. His face was buried in your pussy, slurping whatever you had to give him, so much so that saliva mixed with your dripping arousal. He was moaning, moaning, against your clit, bumping it with his nose.
He was too fucked out to be methodical. Too fucked out from fucking his fist with your satin panties for a week when "I'll call you" was a long time coming. You'd finally told him to come over, after seven tortuous days.
He'd narrowly avoided getting a speeding ticket.
He rolled his hips, humping the bed so his dick would get some friction, pads of his fingers sure-fire bruising your skin, they'd be visible for days. You'd be walking around with his fingerprints blooming just under the hem of your shorts. That was hot.
Obscene slurping sounds had you gripping his hair harder as his thumb flicked and teased your clit, two fingers filling you up. "Oh, shiit, Jay," Your eyes rolled back at the intrusion. You were keeping him, for sure.
His fingers were long. Thick. Crooked from being broken one too many times. They instantly brushed your g-spot, he curled them just right, you couldn't help the moan that came when his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. Stacking one thing on top of another so he could make you feel as good as he did over the phone.
"Look at this—" He stopped to whine against your pussy, vibrations sending your head knocking back against your headboard, "this pretty fuckin' pussy, huh?" He was just babbling at this point, trailing off into incoherence the longer he licked you clean. "Kept me waiting so long, ma, jus' wanna make you feel good."
He'd never felt this bliss before.
Your clit dragged on the base of his cock every time you lifted yourself up and dropped back down. Hard slaps of skin on skin was the soundtrack to Jason grabbing your thighs in a frenzy, pupils blown, unable to look away while letting out the most lascivious moans you'd ever heard in your life as his glasses tilted with every bounce of you on his cock.
This was either the start of a really bad joke or highly erotic pornography.
That question got answered real quick.
He propped himself up, to be able to fuck up into you but also kiss the tits that had been taunting him for ages, sucking your nipple into his mouth like it owed him rent. You couldn't help the grab onto the strands of his hair that desperately needed a trim as he sucked insistently, one hand sliding between your thighs so he could rub his name onto your clit with two fingers. You'd spelled out your name in hickeys that spanned his neck and chest. Lipstick prints spanned his jaw and scarlet smeared over his lips.
His green eyes were desperate, looking up at you. "Fuuuck, ma, s'good," He mumbled incoherently, releasing your tits with a slick pop to run aimless kisses over your neck, "s'warm, feels fuckin'—" The smacks of his hips against yours, the smacks of his lips on your skin, they sent you barrelling to a new high.
Your hand messed up his hair, other leaving red trails across his back. Scarlet that any girl would look at and realise that this man belonged to someone. If they didn't get the hint from the smudged lipstick and hickeys. "Yeah, Jay, you're so good, huh?" You praised, his hips picked up the pace. Your head tilted back, clamping down on him, he swore into the crook of your neck. "I'm— m'coming, baby, come with me, yeah?"
"Uh-huh — shit, I — haah —" It was a wave submerging him that reached you too. A cry of each other's names that would end up with a noise complaint at your door the next morning, considering the headboard had been knocking the wall for the past two hours. He'd come inside you, warmth filling you till you felt it in your throat, hand stroking his hair as his breath shuddered against your neck. You were keeping him, for sure.
He lifted his head from your neck, you reached out to wipe the sweat from his flushed temple. His head followed your hand like it held his will to live.
could you maybe write a jason todd oneshot or something where reader is like a troubled crime alley kid that jason sorta mentors in a way? because they keeps getting themself in trouble so jason just ends up being around them more often
please..i yearn for more fics like this i beg
yes i can!! this is so cute thanks for requesting 😛 i'll get to work on jt sometjme soon
warnings: oral (f receiving), ass fingering, face sitting, slight breeding kink? pervy desperate roy
wc: like 1.5k or something
an: i don't know if anyone's gonna read this because i haven't posted in forever, but here you go. happy march 1st i guess. @divackles
MDNI!
“What happened to being in bed by ten?” A familiar voice rings out from beside you. You don’t bother to look up, choosing instead to focus on the wet concrete beneath your boots. A sharp exhale escapes your parted lips before you take another swig of your bottle. You had planned to be asleep by ten. Staying awake until dawn was Roy’s strong suit, not yours. You’d gotten to the bar at nine, caught your boyfriend kissing someone else at nine- nineteen, and had been in a slightly drunken daze since ten-thirty.
“Can’t sleep,” you mumble in response, making sure not to spare a glance in his direction. Looking at his sleepy green eyes and shit-eating grin would only make this night worse. “Shouldn’t you be stopping crime, Robin Hood?”
He laughs softly, his approaching footsteps clacking quietly beneath him. Beside you, he leans against the cold brick wall. It’s probably cold against his skin. He never brings his jacket when he actually needs one.
“Well, I saw a few guys robbing a bank down the block, but I figured that you drinking whiskey was more of a crime.” There’s a dry wit in his voice, as always, but concern manages to swell through his permanently sarcastic tone. “You hate that shit. What’s wrong?”
“I just wanted a drink,” you reply, frustration rising in your throat. You take another sip to drown it back down.
“Right, and I’m a vegan.”
“Fuck off.”
He lets out another laugh, but this one is more out of surprise. He’s always been a bigger asshole than you, so what the hell's wrong with you tonight? Sure, you were exes, but you ended amicably. For the most part. Besides, that was a year ago.
“Hell’s wrong with you?” he asks, grabbing you by the shoulder and finally forcing you to look him in the eye. You can only imagine what you must look like. You’re certain your mascara’s run down your face, your lipstick smudged on the tip of the bottle, and your hair became a frizzy mess in the cool night’s wind. His lips contort downward into a tight frown.
“Caught Freddie making out with some whore,” you mumble, crossing your arms. “Sorry, I know that’s not very feminist of me, or whatever.”
“He cheated on you?” Roy repeats, as if he thinks he’s misheard you.
“Yeah. I mean, I can’t really blame him. She had, like, a huge rack.”
“Sorry, just- Freddie with the receding hairline? And the adult braces?” Roy says, and he can’t stop himself from laughing a little. “Freddie’s getting it on?”
“It wasn’t receding that bad,” you grumble, feeling a little embarrassed. A hot blush spreads across your face, though you hope it’s covered up by your foundation. “He was sweet. At least, I thought he was. I really liked him.”
Roy sighs, eyes softening with real sincerity. He rests one of his calloused hands on your shoulder, a small gesture of comfort. It makes something in your stomach get all knotted up.
“I’m sorry,” he offers. “I’m not trying to make fun of you.. Very much. I just don’t get why you ever dated him. I mean, look at you!”
You glance down at yourself, trying to see his point. All you see is a girl with a painfully average body and a stain on her dress. You frown.
“I don’t think I see your point, Harper.”
“I don’t understand how you’re so oblivious,” he complains. “You know you were like, the hottest person on the team, right?”
You roll your eyes.
“Seriously! I still see fan edits of you made with shaky IPhone footage.”
For the first time tonight, you laugh. You slap his arm playfully, grateful that he’s trying to make you feel better. His eyes light up at the sight of you finally smiling. The hand he’d placed on your shoulder earlier pulls you closer.
“Do you want me to kick his ass?” Roy says, and you can’t tell whether or not he’s actually offering to jump a random civilian for you. Knowing Roy, he probably is.
“No, s’okay. I’ll just key his car or something.”
“That’s my girl.”
The phrase slips off his tongue before he really realizes what he’s saying. An awkward silence settles between the two of you, neither of you willing to acknowledge it. His girl. You think the last time he called you that was a year and six months ago. You’d taken down Doctor Light by yourself. He bought you ice cream afterwards.
“I, uh, I should go,” you note softly, pulling away from his warm touch. Before you have a chance to take more than a step away, though, his hand wraps around your wrist.
His mind’s completely malfunctioning. Every time he thinks he’s come up with something romantic or sexy to say, his mouth hangs open like a fish out of water. It’s the first time he’s smelled your perfume in so long, and the familiarity of it practically paralyzes him.
In a moment of impulsivity, he yanks you closer. Your face is only a few inches away from his own, and he can feel his heartbeat begin to quicken. Wordlessly, he leans forward and connects his lips to yours. It’s a soft peck, more of a question than a kiss.
Hesitantly, you return the kiss. Your unspoken feelings pour themselves into him as you wrap your arms around his neck. He kisses back with fervor, tongue slipping itself into your mouth like a man starved.
After a moment, you break the kiss. Roy plants small kisses across your cheek and jaw while you speak.
“Do you actually want this?” you ask, not willing to have your heart broken twice in one evening. You’d left him before because you thought he hadn’t gotten over Cheshire, but now you’re not sure if that was real or just something you told yourself.
“Of fucking course I do,” he mumbles against your skin, one hand finding its way down to your ass and gripping it firmly. “I miss you so much, sweetheart. Just wanna be with you again. Let me prove it, okay? Let me prove how much I need you.”
. . . . .
You’re planted firmly atop his face, his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs. Somehow, you’d managed to make it back to your apartment before he ripped your clothes off. It’s a miracle, really.
Roy’s tongue fucks its way in and out of you, nose rubbing clumsily against your clit. Two of his fingers have worked their way into your ass, and you can’t help the shameless moans that escape your lips. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this good. You mindlessly shift yourself against his face, stubble causing delicious friction against you. Your hands grip his hair tightly, guiding him to where you need him the most. He takes the instruction well.
“Fuck, please, cum on my tongue. It’s all I’ve been fucking thinking about for months,” he moans against your pussy, hips thrusting faintly into the air to try and get enough friction to relieve his own arousal.
It only takes another moment for you to fulfill his request. Despite your orgasm, Roy laps continuously at your cunt. His fingers pump rhythmically inside your ass. You lift one hand from his hair to grip the headboard, panting heavily.
“Roy, fuck- I can’t take it.”
Reluctantly, he allows you to lift yourself off of him. His face is completely soaked, but he doesn’t bother to clean himself up. He manoeuvres you beneath him, arms caging you in place.
“Fine,” he whines. “But only because I need to be inside of you. Can I, sweetheart? Fuck- Please?”
You nod wordlessly, and that’s all it takes. He tears off his jeans and practically rips his boxers open in an attempt to release himself as quickly as possible. His bare dick twitches in the cold air, precum soaking the tip and dripping downwards. It’s red, and it’s clear he’s about to cum just from eating you out.
He lines himself up between your folds before bottoming out slowly, lowering himself so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck. He lets out a loud, choked moan. You do the same. You don’t remember him stretching you this much, but the sting of it is what makes it so much fucking hotter.
His thrusts are slow, but they hit deep inside of you. Roy licks and kisses down your chest, attempting to devour you. He can taste the saltiness of your sweat on his tongue, and all it does is turn him on more. He attaches his mouth to one of your hard nipples, sucking and licking around it.
“I don’t wanna break up again,” he moans against your erect nipple. “‘Kay? You’re mine, ‘nd I’m yours. I’m gonna make you a fuckin’ mommy, okay?”
You’re too far gone to get a response out, so you instead wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in further. His thrusts pick up speed, desperate and rough. He usually lasts longer than this, but it’s been so long since he’s gotten to touch you like this.
He shoots his thick ropes of cum inside of you, groaning loudly. For another minute or so, he pumps inside of you gently, trying to make sure none of his cum slips out. Once more, soft kisses are peppered across your neck.
“So, was I better than Freddie?” he jokes faintly, trying to catch his breath. You laugh softly and smack him in the arm.
Havent seen u post anything lately. I really hope everything's alright. Eat and sleep well and drink enough water to stay hydrated. Take care of urself hun.
this is so sweet im crying 🥹 i'm okay, just dealing with a few things. will probably come back with a JLA multishot since i'm reading a justice league run right now.
“I’m fine!” you protest as your date props you up on a nearby chair. “I didn’t fall that hard.”
“You’re crying,” he notes softly, taking off your heel to examine your ankle. “I don’t think you’d be doing that if it didn’t hurt.”
Silently accepting his help, you blink back tears. Who knew you were such a bad dancer? You certainly hadn’t. Going out together was supposed to be fun. You’d get a bit drunk, gain some courage, and end the night with a kiss. That was your master plan. So far, you’d both only had one drink, and your courage was on the decline.
“I think you might’ve sprained it,” he states, finger brushing over your swollen skin. He presses down lightly. “Does that hurt?”
You suck in a deep breath, nodding. He removes his hand from your foot, standing back up. His arms are crossed firmly against his chest as he thinks.
“Do you have a first aid kit at your apartment?” he asks. You have to think for a moment, but the answer that comes to mind is no. The most you had was a few disney princess bandaids and some polysporin.
“Probably not.”
“We’ll go to my place, then.” Seemingly without any struggle, Jason lifts you into his arms. You lay awkwardly in his arms, trying not to move. The closeness of your bodies was intoxicating, but the pain swelling in your ankle was enough to distract you from any unsavoury thoughts.
When you finally make it back to his car, you sprawl out in the backseat, face smushed down into the leather seats. The January frost had worked its way into the car, and despite how cold the rest of you was, the frozen fabric helped to soothe your ankle.
The drive is quick, much to your relief. Within a few minutes, you’re lifted back out of the car and into Jason’s arms once again. He carries you up a few flights of stairs in silence, his mind drifting away. Guilt tugs at him, a tight frown spreading across his face. If he had been paying more attention, he could’ve easily caught you.
Unfortunately, being with you turned off his brain. Things moved slower. The only thing he’d been focused on was the bright smile on your face, creating one on his own. Something about you dulled his senses, and it was making him feel crazy.
After briefly fumbling with his keys, he manages to unlock the door to his apartment. It’s bigger than you’d pictured it. Messy, but still nice. He lays you down on the couch, propping a pillow up behind your head.
“I’m gonna get you some advil. You want anything else?”
“Well, whaddya have?”
Jason thinks for a moment, quickly becoming aware of his slim prospects for snack options.
“Half a bag of chips, leftover lasagna and a slice of birthday cake,” he offers, laughing slightly at his poor hospitality.
“Was it your birthday recently?” you ask.
“Nope,” he replies. “There’s this old lady across the hall. I don’t think her kids come to visit her often. I helped her bring in some groceries and she offered me some of her birthday cake.”
“Well, look at you. You’re like a cartoon character.”
He scoffs, raising an eyebrow.
“What does that mean?”
“You like, help little old ladies cross the street and shit. Rescue any cats from trees recently?” He remains silent, a sheepish smile ghosting at the edges of his mouth. “Did you actually?”
“His name was Sparkles,” Jason mumbles. “And he did not appreciate my help.”
. . . . .
It only takes about twenty minutes for him to bandage you up. Your foot is elevated on a throw pillow, and your date holds an ice pack against your wrapped ankle. It’s only when you check your phone to answer a few texts that you realize how late it is.
“There’s no way it’s midnight,” you sigh. “I live across town. I need to-”
“You could spend the night here. If you wanted,” he blurts out, eyes fixated on the ice pack in his hand.
“Really?” Your heart beating a little faster at the prospect. Staying the night is something actual couples do. “I mean, if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, of course. You can take the bed, I’ll take the couch.”
“I’m okay on the couch,” you insist. “I’m already set up here, anyways.”
“It’s really not comfortable to sleep on.” He frowns.
“Then why would I want you to sleep on it?”
For a moment, you’re both shrouded in a familiar silence. The one that hangs in the air when you’re both unsure about what to say. Neither of you are spectacular at this sort of thing. After a moment, he meets your gaze. Another moment passes before you speak, eyes boring into his own.
“We could share the bed,” you suggest, redness dusting your cheeks. Something similar spreads across Jason’s face. “If you’re okay with that.”
“I’m okay with it if you are.”
“I’m okay with it.”
. . . . .
You wake up within a few hours to Jason tossing and turning. Stress is clearly painted across his face, even to someone whose vision is blurry with sleep. Upon seeing your open eyes, he rolls onto his side to face you.
“Sorry. Did I wake you up?” he asks, voice laced heavily with exhaustion.
“No,” you lie, but you both know he did. “What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?”
“I did for a bit. Had a, uh, bad dream.” It’s clear he’d prefer to leave it at that. Jason is not an openly emotional man, and especially not to people he’s trying to impress. He’s certain you’d run if you actually knew anything about him, but he’s not ready to stop pretending to be normal. Spending time with you was peaceful, and the rest of his life was anything but. He’s not going to give that up.
“I get those a lot,” you murmur. “Distraction helps. Maybe you could put on a show, or some music.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll, uh - I’ll fall back asleep in a bit.”
You don’t believe him, obviously. It’s the same kind of lie you’d tell in this situation. Despite your first impressions of him, you were relatively similar. Slowly, you move closer. He stays impossibly still.
Hesitantly, you reach a hand forward, entangling it in his hair. You play with it gently, and he lets out a shaky breath. You feel it against your neck. His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer. For a moment, that’s all it is. His eyes meet your own, only occasionally breaking away to glance downward. Then, you move.
Your lips meet his with caution. He meets yours with desire. His lips are soft, softer than you’d assume for a guy so rough on the outside. The kiss is slow and intimate. He pulls you closer, your body flush against his.
When you break away, you’re sure your face is bright red. Your cheeks burn, body unsure what to do at his touch.
“Uh, thanks. For the, uh, bandage. Not the kiss. I don’t think I thanked you earlier. I mean, I could thank you for the kiss. I don’t think - I don’t think people do that.” you babble before giving up with a groan. You bury your face in his shoulder as he laughs.
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