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[paging-dr-werewolf]

Wet and Wild (John Walker / F!Reader)

Summary: Yelena is tired of you and John circling around each other; she plays matchmaker, setting you up on a blind date at the Russian banya.

A/N: Thanks to @witchygagirl for hyping me up on this idea and providing some inspo. Very light spoilers for Spider-Man: Brand New Day, although I think most of us have seen the context for Yelena's "office" by now. That's the only thing from the movie referenced in the fic. Let's all put John in the banyaaaaaa

Rating: 18+ MDNI

WC: 6k (complete)

CW: PWP, matchmaker!yelena, no use of y/n, explicit smut, mixed pov, reader is afab, reader is a thunderbolt/new avenger, john is down bad, reader is down bad, big dick john, pussy pronouns (briefly), size kink, use of pet names, slightly soft dom john, fingering, flirting, bathing, bath sex, pinv, unprotected pinv, hair pulling, dirty talk.

“God, it is so depressing in here. At least crack a window. Why would you come in here willingly?”

John glanced up from the munitions report he had been—up until thirty seconds ago—reviewing peacefully in the shared work office off the common room. It was usually quiet. Usually. Because yes, it was a little drab and corporate, hard edges and unforgiving vinyl. He flipped the page, sighing, massaging his temple as Yelena made a circle around the desk, inspecting every corner, lifting up paper weights, dragging her finger through dust that was not there.

“I assume this is going somewhere?”

“Yeah, somewhere else. Like, take a walk, man. Get some fresh air, or—” She snapped her fingers, propped herself on the edge of the desk, her ass nearly knocking over his thermos of coffee. “I know. I have the perfect solution.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Your solutions usually lead to more problems.”

Yelena shrugged, grinning. She was dressed in jeans and an off the shoulder black sweatshirt, a standard look for her out of uniform. Without asking, she took a sip from his thermos.

“This office is just fine.”

Squinting, she leaned closer. “Your skin and beard look very dry. I have a solution for this, too.”

“What the hell does my beard have to do with munitions efficiency?” he asked. Concentration well and truly broken, John leaned back in his chair, subtly cupping his chin, testing to see if she was right. A tiny flake floated down to his lap, incriminating. He dusted it away before Yelena could notice.

“You’re not going to get a girlfriend with that thing on your face. It would be like kissing a dirty tumbleweed.”

John glared. “We’re talking about my love life now?”

“No, we’re not, because you don’t have one.”

“Nice. That’s nice. Supportive, too.” In a way, a way that he did not want to dwell on, Yelena was right. John did not have a love life, he had an acrimonious divorce and a debilitating crush, which was why he was reviewing pages and pages of numbers at four in the afternoon on a Friday.

“Believe it or not, I am trying to support you. It is supporting you to take you from this wretched place, get you outside, get you into a more…productive environment, yes?” Her eyes twinkled. And John could admit that she was glowing lately, coming back from her long work sessions across town with a spring in her step and a dewy complexion John had noticed you openly admiring, complimenting.

“I don’t know,” John muttered, rubbing his face again, this time without trying to be sneaky about it. Maybe his beard was the tiniest bit dry. Whatever. It happened. He had real things to worry about, though he certainly didn’t want you to kiss a tumbleweed. Not that you would kiss him period, he had no evidence that you were interested, but the hypothetical did things to him. “I, um, I’m good right here.”

Yelena put his coffee down, sliding off the table, palming something out of her jeans pocket and leaving it next to his thermos. It was a business card. She tapped it, brows meeting over the warm, helpless eyes of a parent who just wanted better for their kid. “Go, John. You will not regret it.”

She tried to hide it, but deep down she was soft.

Slowly, he pulled the card off the table and dropped it in his bag.

Yelena clapped him on the shoulder, then sauntered toward the open door. “But tell me if you decide to go and I can text you instructions. There are security measures, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he said under his breath.

He thought he was free to return to his task, but Yelena paused by the door, her voice drifting over her shoulder in a cheeky lilt. “You know, she likes to use my office sometimes. Mondays and Thursdays.”

John straightened up, eyes roaming to the side. He hoped she couldn’t see the back of his neck burning with interest.

“It’s private. Quiet.”

He kept his mouth clamped shut, molars locked hard enough to crack, afraid something embarrassing would tumble out. John had tried to keep a tight lid on his feelings for you. It was so painfully clear that you preferred hanging out with Bob and Bucky, he couldn’t bear the thought of letting something slip and making a fool of himself.

The team gave him enough shit without knowing he had a fucking crush. Like a lovesick puppy. Like a total, pining loser.

And anyway, you were new to the tower. The last thing he wanted to do was make you self-conscious, uncomfortable. The job was hard enough without a big oaf drooling over you while you tried to save the world. He was trying not to be a guy about it, but he was never more aware of his size, his strength, his appetites than when you were standing next to him.

He wanted to devour you.

It was becoming a problem.

“Mm.” Yelena was almost out the door, whispering absently to herself. “Maybe Bucky will take me up on it…”

John’s head twitched to the other side. He was afraid of everyone finding out about his crush, but degrees more afraid of you being alone somewhere private and quiet with Bucky Barnes.

“Monday,” he blurted out, flinching at the volume of his voice. “I’ll go Monday.”

“I’m seriously going to puke if you say one more word about him.”

You folded your arms across your chest, pouty, maybe, huffy, definitely, glaring out the subway window at the blur of cables and graffiti going by. “You are such a prude.”

“I am not a prude.” Yelena twisted toward you on her seat. She had let her hair grow out some, and it was twisted up and away from her face into a black clip. “I’m the one always telling you to go get laid.”

“I don’t want to get laid, I want—”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Yelena stuck her finger in your face and wagged it. “What did I just say?”

Sliding down the subway bench, you grumbled with your chin tucked down against your chest.

The train tha-thunked rhythmically over the tracks, emergency lights in the tunnel illuminating your faces in flashes. You rocked side to side, curling away from Yelena’s sharp, persistent stare. “I’m going to whip you with a venik, beat this obsession right out of you,” she sighed. “Either say something to him or stop trauma dumping your fantasies on me.”

“My fantasies are not traumatizing.”

“They are for me! I am forced to imagine them.” Yelena shuddered, then gagged theatrically.

“I’m not asking him out, it’s too messy.”

“And you’re too proud.”

“I am not—” You groaned, letting your head fall back against the torn seat. “Maybe I’m a little proud.”

“Yes. You’re two stubborn peas in a pod.”

You shook your head. “We’re most certainly not in a pod, thus the fantasizing.”

“Too proud, too messy, so! You need to look elsewhere.”

“I guess.”

“Anyway, today you meet the man of your dreams.” She prodded the tip of your nose with her forefinger like she was casting a spell. “This is a promise.”

This was how Yelena managed to coax you out of the Watchtower at seven AM on a Monday. You should have been curled up in bed with a hot book and a sweet cold brew, biding your time until your training block, quietly hoping no alerts came through to tear you away from a lazy morning. But no. Yelena was tired of you panting over John Walker’s withholding ass, so now she was setting you up and accepting no refusals.

“You don’t think it’s weird he wants to meet at a bathhouse?” you asked, watching a guy a few benches down with a dog poking out of his jacket. “Feels like a red flag.”

“I told him to meet us there,” Yelena pointed out, swiveling away from you to kick her booted feet out into the aisle. “You’re not going to regret it.”

She had refused to show you a picture but described him in enough tantalizing detail to make the proposition a good one. Six foot four, two-seventy, beefy football type with dreamy eyes and a killer butt.

“How did you meet this dude again?” you asked, suspicion tearing you away from the thought of actually finding someone hot enough to end your crush on John.

“Oh my God, look at that little doggy, he’s in the man’s jacket!” Yelena snorted, ignoring you, giving a tiny wave under her chin. “Hi, doggy!”

The subway train squealed, a voice clanging through the speakers, announcing your stop.

“This is us,” she said, grabbing your arm. “Chop, chop, lovergirl.”

John stared at the entrance to Yelena’s “office,” sure he must have gone to the wrong address.

For starters, it was an hour away from the Watchtower via subway. He had sat on the Q line for so long he was sure he was starting to grow moss. Secondly, it was tucked away in a cramped series of brownstones, some residential, others with tiny storefronts selling borscht and dumplings. When he emerged from the humid womb of the subway tunnel, the entire street smelled like garlic.

Blinking up at the nondescript door, a faded sign down the side reading: SAUNA, the address number lopsided on a chipped tile design, John became aware of several figures down the block in tracksuits watching him with more than idle attention. Brighton Beach. Little Russia.

Go figure.

John grimaced and ducked inside the business, immediately too large for the narrow entryway, which was less than a lobby and barely more than a closet. Unlike the street, the inside of this place smelled like a laundromat, like steam from an iron.

A stairwell leading down opened up to his right. Straight ahead, there was a check in desk and window with someone’s grandma in a caftan folding towels, chewing a cigarette, and peering out of the window to size him up. Russian soaps played on an ancient television behind her. From a hall to John’s left, a man wearing a green felt hat and yet another tracksuit appeared, this one red, collar turned up though not high enough to disguise the tapestry of Vory V Zakone tattoos crawling up from his chest.

Real Eastern Promises shit.

He flashed a gold-toothed smile, examining John with slightly less enthusiasm than the granny.

John had gotten a text from Yelena that morning. Somehow, she had beat him out the door.

“I’m supposed to ask for Oleg,” John muttered, voice measured, eyes shifting between Eastern Promises and Grandma.

"Oh. Oh, you are with her. Yes, of course, of course.” Oleg--presumably, but who could really say?--strutted over to the window where the old woman was watching her soaps and minding the linens. The woman tossed John a towel, then appraised him again, this time with a softer, knowing look that put him on edge. What the hell?

John remembered he was supposed to be in an office as he clutched the fluffy towel to his chest, brow furrowing as he followed Oleg down the stairs into an echoing chamber, humidity rising again like he was descending back into the dense armpit of a summer subway tunnel.

But it smelled clean, like cedar and eucalyptus.

Sweat prickled along his temples.

“You are not here for assisted stretching?” the man asked, shooting John a look over his shoulder. “Is shame…”

“Not today, thanks. Is Yelena here?”

“This way.”

“Right.”

Not a no and not a yes. John followed the man deeper through the arched, subterranean warrens, white tile and wooden benches, steam rooms and cold plunges and unmarked doors that presumably led to changing rooms. He still couldn’t understand what the hell he was doing there, why Yelena apparently conducted all of her meetings in a bathhouse.

Oleg stopped in front of one of those unmarked doors, gesturing with a sigh as he gave John another once over, something everyone here apparently felt extremely comfortable and relaxed doing. “Much better if you come early, rounds of hot and cold. Maybe next time.”

“Yeah,” John said, lying. “Maybe.”

“Through there. Shorts or nothing, then door on the right.” Oleg shifted beyond him, patting John on the shoulder as he went. “See you later, my friend.”

“Shorts or what?” John blurted out, twisting, but Oleg was already trooping back through the underground chamber, whistling a tuneless melody.

Maybe that was his cue to leave. John stared at the door, then at the towel in his arms. He had taken a train that smelled like it had actually been rubbed down with wet garbage to get there while a guy with a guitar four benches behind him played out of tune Hoobastank covers, and the thought of turning right back around and doing it again or spending a fortune on a cab convinced him to at least satisfy his curiosity and step through the door.

Maybe, by some miracle, whatever was on the other side would make all of this confusing bullshit worth the trip.

Office hours my ass.

More importantly, where were you? Yelena had mentioned you usually swung by on Mondays…

John forced himself through the door, finding a tidy changing room on the other side. He stripped down to his shorts and slung the towel over his shoulder, eyeing the “door on the right” his new friend Oleg had mentioned.

Whatever, he thought with a shrug. At least nobody was playing Hoobastank.

The Perfect Man was making an imperfect first impression. Late. He was very late.

Your phone hung out safely on a tiny wooden stool in the corner of the pale, arched chamber. In a swimsuit—which Yelena had groused about, extoling the virtues of the banya, of hot and cold bathing without a stitch of clothing as God intended—you checked your phone again.

There was a message waiting for you from Yelena, who had promised to run out for coffee even though caffeine was also a no-no during this process.

something came up, back in a few hours. your date flaked, try to enjoy yourself for a while. if you need anything ask oleg.

It did not feel good to be stood up for a blind date. You glowered at your phone, an itch in your throat, humiliation tightening your stomach. Your skin was glazed with fine sweat from the heat of the baths, and you felt like an idiot standing there in your swimsuit, damp, lonely, abandoned twice before lunch.

The thought of facing Oleg or anyone else sucked. You put your phone back down on the stool, rubbed your face with both hands, and turned slowly in place to face the calm blue water behind you. It was quiet, so quiet, which was dangerous now that your thoughts were racing. You sighed, deflating; there was nothing to do but wait until Lena came back and you could chew her out for tanking your self-esteem like this.

You stripped out of your swimsuit, throwing it onto the floor, the wet stretchy material slapping against the tiles as you climbed down into the water. It was the perfect temperature, warm but not too hot, even more pleasant now that you weren’t wearing anything. You groaned, trying to forget the stress and annoyance knotting up your stomach, letting your head fall back against the ledge. You had almost drifted off into a pleasant, half-dozing state of limbo when the sound of a door closing echoed through the humid chamber.

Probably just Lena coming back early. Oh well. You could work yourself back up into a froth to argue with her, no problem, except she didn’t come around the corner and out of the shadows by the lockers for personal items.

Someone else did, someone very tall, very muscular, very handsome and very John.

“Holy shit.”

You stared at John, he stared back. You stared at his mouth, lips still parted around that curse as a deep, red flush roared across his chest. His huge, bare chest. You didn’t know where to put your eyes. There was so much of him. So much man crammed into a tiny pair of black shorts. Your gaze lingered on the dunes of his stomach, the line of hair bisecting those abs, then the broad swells of his shoulders, capped with muscle that mimicked the shape of his suit.

During all the time you had spent fantasizing about something exactly like this, you had neglected to consider his thighs. Shame on you, honestly. They were thick, sturdy, corded with bulging muscles, just as mouthwatering as the rest of him.

The sight of him punched the air out of your lungs. You wheezed softly. You didn’t know why you were so…surprised. I mean, superhero, serum, naturally he would have an intense physique, but his everyday clothes didn’t hint at all of this, and he never went shirtless in the training gym.

Damn.

But he was gawking at you, too, throat deforming visibly as his blue eyes skimmed to the edge of the water, to where your breasts were mostly but not entirely covered, then back up to your face, that blush spreading up to his cheeks as your eyes met, stayed, both of you entering into a silent pact of reluctant chastity.

If you looked at his body again, you would moan.

“Hi,” you murmured, sinking lower, making sure your nips were safely hidden. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“You are,” he said, fingers fidgeting with the end of the towel over his shoulder. “But not like that. Not like…” John blinked, hard, trailing off into the very sound you were terrified of making.

Tall, beefy, football type. Killer ass. Yelena Belova, you clever girl.

Knowing her, you should’ve seen this coming.

“She set us up,” you said, trembling and dry-mouthed as it all started to make sense. No wonder she hadn’t coughed up a picture for this date.

John’s jaw worked in a circle. “Why would she do that?”

Because I’m so horned up for you, she was about to hose me down with ice water.

“No idea,” you whispered, pained.

“Weird,” he said, still keeping his gaze respectful. You did the same, hating every second of it.

“So weird.”

“Are you…” His attention slid away from your face to the floor behind you, snagged on the swimsuit, then flicked back. You watched the knowledge hit him, that you were completely naked, steps away, that you were alone together in an underground room with extremely thick walls and a pleasantly hot pool of sapphire water. “You are.”

“I am.”

“N-Naked.”

God, it was gratifying to hear that stammer.

You lowered your lashes once, trying to remember if you had ever been seductive or sultry in your life. “Yep.”

Silence. Drip. Drip. Drip. Your legs swished quietly through the water, unseen, your hands clutching your thighs hard enough to dent skin. His hair was getting wet at the edges from sweat.

Again, your eyes met. No wandering. The pact. The silence was going to kill you if the effort it took to keep from greedily eyefucking his huge, hot bod didn’t end you first.

“Warm day,” he finally said, flinching at how stupid it was.

“We’re talking about the weather?”

“I’m trying to be polite.”

“You could get in.”

There it was, the brain cell you were praying might activate and save you both. Too proud, that was what Yelena thought, that you were too stubborn and too chickenshit to make a move, terrified of the mess, of the fall out, of hearing the words, “I don’t want this” come out of his mouth.

John stared like you had suggested a bank robbery.

“It’s a public bath,” you went on. “Co-ed, apparently.”

“Apparently."

You were going to dissolve into the water if he didn’t decide and quick. “Apparently.”

John’s hands curled into fists at his sides, knocking against his thighs. “You want me to get in?”

You dipped lower, chin disappearing under the water. Oh no. His eyes were different, darker, changing as the question hung between you. The shame was burning off. His cheeks weren’t pink anymore. He looked suddenly focused, shoulders lifting and dropping with his labored breathing.

You nodded.

His spine, his ego, was back, you could just feel it.

“Say it.”

This was a real dog catching the car situation, because five minutes ago you were sure you would never have the courage to ask him to do anything more intimate than play Uno or binge WW2 documenataries, and now your pussy was running things, slamming her greedy little hands down onto the YES YES YES button.

“Okay, I'll say it: get in with me.”

John moved toward the water’s edge, two steps, eyes even darker as he neared. You lifted your head out of the water, allowing your gaze to finally skip lower, to his shorts, then back up to his face. “It’s only fair.”

“Can I get in first?”

Giving him shit was a primary hobby of yours.

“Shy?”

Giving it right back was a hobby of his.

John hooked his thumbs around the waistband of his shorts, immediately goaded into the competitive mode you knew so well. Of course, it worked. John never met a dare he didn’t want to toxically escalate, frequently and hilariously to his detriment. But this time, you were both winners.

He slid down his shorts, letting them pool around his ankles before he stepped out of them.

“Hey,” he said, catching your sharp intake of breath. He snapped his fingers, pointing to his chin. “Eyes up here.”

You swallowed a whimper, nodding, forcing yourself not to stare at his thickening length as he lowered himself carefully into the bath. What peripheral vision had shown you made your entire body clench. His mass displaced the water, the level rising and sloshing against the edges. You flattened yourself on the other side from him like you were willingly bathing with a tiger shark.

His eyes were almost the same color as the water, brighter now as he sank down across from you, water lapping against his shoulders as he settled down onto one of the ledges.

“How’d she convince you to come here anyway?” you asked, absorbing the way he sighed into the pleasant heat, slicking one hand through his hair before rolling his shoulder.

“Thought I could get some work done,” John said, in a dull-eyed, flat way you knew meant he was being evasive.

“Uh-huh.”

“And she said my skin was dry.”

“You don’t actually care about that shit.”

“Ouch.” John snorted, head veering back like you had lightly smacked him.

“That’s not what I meant, I—”

“Why are you here?” John lifted up off the seat and waded closer, squinting, catching a scent. “You knew it wasn’t an office, right? You’ve been here before…”

The heat from the water transferred up your face. More and more of him was exposed as he came closer, the water slipping down below his chest. Your mouth was dry again, tongue thick as you groped for an adequate obfuscation.

The closer he got, the harder it was to think.

“You’re leaving something out,” you said, deflecting, raising your chin like maybe physical defiance might give you the upper hand.

John shook his head, stilling two feet away, gazing down at you with cool, unreadable eyes. “So are you.”

“I was supposed to meet a date.”

Opting for the truth seemed like a good idea until John pointed at himself, a bit smug.

“No, dummy, she didn’t tell me it was you.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” John’s expression crumbled and he withdrew behind a half-snarl, twisting to the side, but everything inside you wanted him closer not further away.

“I’m not, I’m…”

John froze, the quiet hemming you both in as you felt the will to keep lying slough off into the water. Maybe you’d lost more than a few top layers of skin. It was the obvious metaphor, but it still felt right. You leaned away from the wall and toward him.

“The man she described…” The heat and his proximity were shortening your breaths, compressing your lungs. “Should’ve known it was you.” As he took another big step in your direction, you sucked your lip into your mouth, gazing at every exposed inch of him. Admiring. “Just my type.”

Closing the distance, the water hissed, resettling around you as John trapped you against the edge of the deep tub, focused again, serious. “Is that right? She threatened to sic Barnes on you.”

“Bucky?” You laughed, throwing your head back until you were gazing up into his face, into his blue fire eyes. “Well, that would be crazy and a waste of everyone’s time because I don’t want him.”

“Yeah?” His voice fell to a rasp; he eased closer, so close you could sense his heat independently from the water’s. One hand slid up to cup your jaw, thumb rubbing across your chin. Fuck. “Mm. Interesting. And what do you want?”

There was no turning back, not when he was looking at you like that, like his personal happiness and maybe the fate of the world depended on your answer. A shy, nervous quiver passed through his hand where he touched you.

“You.” A murmur. A sigh. His lips eased open as you gave it to him, the gift of your desire. “Lena says I’m too proud, but I guess not. I want you and I’m not too proud to beg.”

No begging required. John drew your lips to his, both of his wet hands in your hair, yanking you into his body, water cascading off of his shoulders and yours as you tumbled into him. You didn’t try to steady or catch yourself, just tossed your arms around his neck and offered yourself up for the first hungry swipe of his tongue. He gathered you into him easily, in one motion, taking you to the edge of the tub, your lower back wedged against the stone, legs opening, bracketing his thighs.

“I could make you beg,” John whispered, breaking the kiss to shift you higher, loop one arm under your butt, the other slamming down on the damp floor just over your shoulder. “Or I could make you scream,” he bit along your jaw, lower, kissing your neck hungrily, groaning. “Your choice, beautiful.”

He wanted you to think? He wanted you to decide things?

His mouth dropped lower, beard scratching across the tops of your breasts. Your nipples hardened against his chest, every inch of you aching for those sloppy, starved kisses.

“Please,” you whispered, head falling back, fingers scratching across his spine to his nape to his head, holding his face to your breasts as he teased one nipple between his lips, teeth closing softly, your hips bucking, seeking more of him more of all of it now now now…

“Please what, baby?” he asked, somehow, somehow still using speech and brain.

He was a stronger person than you, clearly, because you were gone.

“Please just need you, all of you.” You were whimpering for him, for a man. You’d think about the embarrassing implications of begging John Walker for anything later, but for now, you were trying to grind his dick into the right place, arc your hips up at the right angle to—

John caught you, held you, merciless and grinning into your breast as he rubbed his face against it, whiskers igniting what he had just made slick and swollen.

“How, beautiful?” he asked, grunting as he sucked your nipple again, loud, messy. The water sloshed up around your chest as you thrashed. “Where?”

No words, just hips. You yanked his hair when he laughed at you again, enjoying your frustration.

“Here?” John took mercy, kissing his way back up to your damp, sweating neck, using his nose to outline every sweep of you between there and your right ear, whispering filth while his grip loosened and his fingers dove through the water to your sex. He pushed one finger inside, breath catching at the heat and slick that met him. “You need me here?”

“Yes.”

“She’s so wet, fuck, she wants me bad, doesn’t she?” John growled into you, adding a second finger, stretching you gently, then with more insistence, faster. His cock twitched against your thigh, agonizingly close; you could feel his heartbeat in it as he teased a moan from your throat, then another. His thumb brushed through your folds, strumming your clit, and you lurched against him, clawing at his scalp. “Does she need more? Doesn’t seem like enough, squeezing me like that, so fucking wet…”

“F-Feels a lot like b-begging,” you murmured, arching when he stirred his fingers in your clenching pussy. You made a crazier, dumber sound when his hand dropped away, hushing through the blue water to wrap around his dick and bring it against your entrance, playing with both of you, rubbing like you weren’t about to fly apart at the seams.

John huffed into your ear, almost letting go of a whimper as pitiful and needy as yours. “Is this what you need?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“Take me, god damnit.”

He did. Fuck, he did. Pulling you down into him while gripping himself tight, resistance minimal, stretch optimal, both of you falling into taut, silent concentration as he brought your hips flush. You squirmed, not fighting but reacting, your body spasming from too much of him and not enough of you. You’d find a way, carve out new space for him if you had to.

Slowly, you adjusted to him, riding gently up and down, walls fluttering, finding the pleasure inside the burn until the weird, full feeling lapsed into friction and pressure. You couldn’t tell what was sweat and what was spit and what was bath water, you just knew you were soaking everywhere, dizzyingly hot, John’s lips sealed to your temple as he pulled you carefully up and down his shaft.

“So big,” you mumbled, over and over again. "Mmf."

“You like this big dick?”

“Yes.”

"Need it?"

"Yes."

“I can tell,” he groaned, shuddering. “So tight, she doesn't want to let go.”

Faster now, faster because you could handle it, because you were shaking your hips back against him, moaning and drooling, fucked into a dimension where you couldn’t feel anything but the way he was opening you up on every thrust, your body relearning the stretch, craving it, a dark, dangerous feeling gathering in your core, a precipice up to a plunge you feared and needed.

“Oh God, it’s too much,” you wailed, holding on tight, water splashing in every direction as John lifted you higher out of the water, slapped your back down onto the tiles, only briefly breaking the connection of your bodies as he crawled up between your legs and made you whole again.

It was real now, a drive, a snap to his hips as he smothered you with his bulk; you hooked your legs around his waist, ankles crossed, heels digging into his ass, spurring him faster.

He planted one hand by your head, the other diving between you, wedged into the damp, sweaty crux where your bodies met. There was no time for precision. You felt his thumb hook under your aching clit, and you pushed yourself against that calloused pad, chasing, chasing, that pace setting his as he dragged himself in and out, perspiration dripping off of him and onto you.

Nervous, rising sounds spilled out of you as you felt that darkness encroaching. You hurled yourself after it, letting go, shameless and open-mouthed as he worked you back and forth on the tiles, finding a depth that made your eyes cross.

“That’s it, baby, cum on this big dick. I know you can do it, cum for me.”

You clenched, desperate, fingers clawing down his chest as the white room swallowed the darkness, swallowed you, his clenched jaw and red face disappearing for a second behind a pressurized veil. It slammed down onto you, into you; you squeezed him deep, in shuddering waves.

“Fuck, I’m right there. I’m right there with you—”

John grabbed your hips, leveraging them higher, pumping out a few final strokes on his knees, shivering as he drew up tight and fucked his release out with a grunt and a gasp. He shook for a second, fingers biting into you, cock twitching as he unloaded; heat pooled in your belly, your eyes rolled back, his mouth dropping open until it looked like he was in pain.

He came back to himself with heaved, gulped breaths, searching down the length of your body, eyes catching on every mark, bite, scratch, and hickey. Gently, he laid you back down on the floor, propping himself up, over you, still inside as he pressed a dozen feverish, apologetic kisses to your chest and neck and face.

“Are you… Lost myself. Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Jesus, that was intense.”

You laughed. Giddy. It was tempting to make him worry, but instead you drew his face to yours, kissed him longingly until you had his taste memorized.

“I’m good. Real good.”

John blew out a relieved breath, shoving his face into your temple. “Had me worried.”

“Tougher than I look, John.”

“We can put that to the test.”

You snorted, swatting his shoulder. “Thought you were worried?”

“I am, but…” He laughed, sheepish, pulling you into him, holding you tight. “But I want to do that again.”

“Maybe in a bed next time.” You purred, fitting your hands into his hair, stroking the wet pieces back off of his forehead, gazing into his eyes when he lifted his head to see you. “This place does work, damn, I feel limber as hell now.”

“Relaxed, too.”

“Mmhm.”

“Worked some things out.”

You nodded, matching his smile. “Things that needed working.”

“Exactly.”

He kissed you again, sweeter this time.

“Glad I came to the office today,” he murmured, easing out of you, lifting you into a sitting position, then up as he stood, hoisting you into his arms. Your toes touched the ground tentatively, knees still wobbly, but John kept you upright, steady against his big, warm chest.

“Very productive,” you agreed, looking around for your swimsuit. “Think those are billable hours?”

“You dirty freaks, I didn’t want you to have sex in my bath,” Yelena muttered, closing her hands over her face and growling out a sigh. You had texted her an hour after you and John managed to clean up, get dressed, and--appetites stoked--wander hand in hand down the street for pierogis. Instead of texting back, she showed up to the restaurant, following your trackers, raging at you both in a barely controlled whisper, eyes flashing. “Now I have to drain the whole thing and clean it. Very, very thorough, it has to be cleaned. I have an important meeting later!”

“This was your idea,” John pointed out sensibly, chewing a mouthful of food and swallowing before sticking his straw in his cheek. “You set us up.”

“On a date! On a cheeky little cute bathtime date, not…fuckapalooza!”

An old couple in the next booth glared.

“If it helps, we weren’t in the water for all of it,” you said, resting comfortably against John’s side in the booth.

“It does not help.” Yelena stole a pierogi off your plate, crammed it into her mouth, and scooted off the vinyl bench. “Banned,” she said, pointing at each of you in turn. “Banned from my office.”

“Noted,” John said, suppressing a laugh, hands up in surrender as Yelena stormed off.

She would get over it. When she did, she would be insufferable about being such a successful matchmaker. You slurped your soda, warm all over, glowing.

“Your beard looks nice,” you said, turning and cupping John’s cheek. “Soft.”

His brows lifted, eyes simmering as he moved them across your face, letting them linger on your lips. “There’s a hot tub on level twenty-nine in the tower,” he said. “In the PT lab. Did you know that?”

You found his hand on the bench, gave it a squeeze, signaled for the check. “I do now.”

-> Masterlist

[houndstooth-draws]

I hope he doesn’t do anything terrible or unforgivable or anything 👍

[ilovegeneralahux]

Milicent probably joined him soon after anyway

Since people liked it so much on tiktok, I thought why not post it here as well 🙂

[space-gingers]

<<His uniform from the side/back. So gorgeous

[absoluteglory]

It’s really the only way she wants to sleep….

[darthnostra]

Bad times

Based on this

[ilovegeneralahux]

Don't play uno with Armitage

[darthnostra]

Are you winning, son?

[carolinesalvawhore]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 | percy weasley x reader

summary: perfect prefect percy weasley would never be caught dead breaking the rules. that is, until he meets you.

⤷ requested by anon

warnings: 18+ mdni. smut, sub! percy, kinda meanish reader, oral (m. receiving), riding, dirty talk, objectification (?), nothing super insane, hogwarts uni au obviously

wc: 1k words

author's note: this one is for the percy weasley fans. y'all are a bunch of freaks

Percy Weasley was in quite a predicament. The predicament being you and him in a classroom after hours, you on your knees, swallowing his cock whole like there was no tomorrow. He hadn't meant for this arrangement to fall into place — he was a prefect, chosen by Professor McGonagall for being an exemplary student. Yet here he was, abandoning his rounds so you could have your fun.

His face was construed in pleasure as his head fell back, pants escaping his thoroughly kissed lips. "Shit, y/n, someone's going to hear."

You pulled off him momentarily, a cheeky grin gracing your features. Your hands continued jerking him off slowly, spreading the precum. "You want me to stop, baby?"

"Merlin, no—" he let out a strangled groan. "Don't stop."

"Then I guess you'll just have to shut up and take it like a good boy," you replied sweetly.

Your lips wrapped around him once more, efforts doubling ten fold. You hollowed your cheeks, hands gripping his thighs, not letting your eyes leave his face. Percy turned an even deeper shade of pink, and you felt a feeling of satisfaction wash over you. One of your hands moved to fondle his balls, causing his hips to buck up, cock grazing the back of your throat.

"It's too much, fuckk, slow down." reasoned Percy. His knuckles were turning white from where he gripped the edge of the chair.

Your eyes glinted wickedly as you examined his state. "Too much? You're taking it juuuusst fine. Leaking everywhere, making a fuckin' mess. Who knew all it took for perfect prefect Percy Weasley to break was a good cock sucking?"

You slurped at his mushroom head, before shoving your mouth down. Your nose was nestled into his coarse happy trail, inhaling the heady scent. For fuck's sake, he tasted delicious. You swallowed, letting your throat constrict around his cock, making the perfect little hole for him.

"M'gonna cum, angel, please can I come?" pleaded the redheaded boy. "Need it so bad."

You nodded the best you could while letting your head bob rhythmically, feeling Percy's cock pulse, once, twice and then warm cum was filling your mouth. Instead of swallowing it, you let it dribble out, down your chin and onto your bare tits.

Percy watched it drip. And then he was leaning down, rubbing it into your skin, tweaking your nipples and rolling the buds between his fingers. "You're so pretty." he breathed out, voice just above a whisper.

You clambered up, thigh bracketing his as you sat on his lap. Your lips were quick to find his neck, nibbling and nipping as you moved up to his jawline.

Percy whimpered, he actually whimpered as you found his sweet spot. You batted your eyes at him. "You'll let me do whatever I want, right Percy?"

He nodded eagerly. "Whatever you want."

Your lips found the shell of his ear. "What I want right now is to ride you until my legs won't stop shaking. Until I can feel your fucking cum deep inside by cunt."

He nodded again. You tutted disapprovingly. "Use your words, Perce. Say you're going to let me use you."

His fingers were digging into your thighs. "I—I'm going to let you use me."

Your lips were ghosting his. "You're my little toy. My plaything, a cock for me to fuck myself onto."

His glasses were skewed, curls wild. But you saw how his breath hitched, eyes darkening even more. Underneath you, his cock twitched — all the confirmation you needed. You trailed your fingers down his chest, slowly beginning to grind on top of him.

Your wet heat was dragging deliciously against his length, an obscene noise filling the room. Percy's lips collided with yours, clumsily applying pressure as he pulled you closer.

You broke apart momentarily, foreheads pressed against each other. You stroked him once, twice, before sinking down onto him, taking him inch by inch. A long, drawn-out whine escaped from your lips. There was no other way to say this — Percy Weasley was packing.

"You're filling me up soooo good," you moaned out, as his tip kissed your cervix over and over. "Feels fuckin' amazing."

A loud whine escaped from Percy's lips and you glanced nervously at the door. "Baby, you've got to be quiet."

Percy looked up at you with his large eyes. "C-can't."

"Can't?" you mocked. "Can't? Stupid baby's so fucked out he'd let anyone hear us, anyone walk in?"

Percy meets your hips with shallow bucks as his eyebrows knit together. "You're just so warm — ngh— shit."

You squeezed your tits together before bringing his mouth to them. "Go on. Suck on my tits. Maybe that'll keep your mouth full long enough to shut the fuck up."

The added stimulation reinvigorated you, riding him faster than ever. Your hand snaked down to draw tight circles on your clit. "Ever felt a pussy this tight, Percy?"

His thrusts were getting sloppy, uncoordinated. You spit downwards, watching it mix into where you two were connected. "Go ahead and cum for me. Fill me up to the brim."

Percy was cumming before the words were out of your mouth, warm liquid pooling inside you, causing your own cunt to flutter before you finally clenched down. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, a low groaned being punched out of your throat. "Fucckkk right there, Percy! Ngh, fuckin' love your big cock."

When you had both recovered from your highs, you got off him, hissing slightly. Your legs were wobbly as you redressed. Percy still sat on the chair, utterly fucked out. "Y/N, this can't happen again. I'm a prefect, I can't be caught fornicating with you."

"Use the word fornicating again and you won't."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "See you tomorrow?"

"'Course," you said, winking. Then you leaned down, your hot breath against his ear causing him to shudder. "I'll even let you fuck my ass."

[undresseddreams]

swim | percy w. & oliver w.

৻ꪆ summary. you, percy and oliver found a much better way to beat the heat.

id. 0.8k words, smut. 18+ content!

warnings. porn no/little plot. threesome, p in v, bathroom sex, cunnilingus, dirty talk, brief perciver, established relationship maybe?, written on a whim, kind of came to me in a dream actually. consider that a warning in it of itself, english is NOT my first language.

The misuse of Hogwart's facilities were strictly prohibited. The Student Manual made it abundantly clear, stating that it was a rule enforced specifically to limit students loitering inbetween classes, and to keep from any possibility of damage to school property.

Well, that particular rule didn't seem to matter now.

It was a hot day out. Despite the Castle being located in the Scottish Highlands, they'd all woken up to a level heat and humidity that made the entirety of Hogwarts and it's surrounding area reminiscent of a tropical island.

To combat the heat, you and a handful of other students decided to take advantage of the weekend and venture out for a refreshing dip along the shallow parts of the Black Lake.

How you wound up ditching your friends and sneaking off into the Prefect's Bathroom was a whole other story.

Percy’s breath fanned softly between your thighs, the warmth a delicious contrast to the cool porcelain beneath you where you perched on the edge of the tub. He was submerged in the water, hands bringing your thighs to rest atop his freckled shoulders. He was soaked. You all were, with bubbles foaming against your ankles.

The tub was filled to the brim. Foamy and colourful under the bathroom's dim light, whereas the water itself was just the right amount of cool.

Your clothes were in a pile somewhere. His was too, sitting in a hastily discarded mess alongside Oliver's kit.

"Fraternising is against the rules too, isn't it?" Your voice was hushed, the question directed at Oliver, who now stood alongside Percy in the water.

Oliver moved closer toward the pair of you, murmuring softly with that scottish lilt you couldn't get enough of. "I really don't think he cares."

Soon after, his fingers tangled in Percy's damp yet stubborn curls. He gripped his head firmly as he pressed it tight against your dripping heat.

Percy let out a soft groan against your slick folds. He wasted no time. His tongue traced your entrance, pushing in slowly before his ministrations grew quick and sloppy.

It was funny. When you'd first come into the Bathroom with Oliver, he was acting like an absolute twat — claimed it wasn't right that you were there when you were neither Prefect, nor Quidditch captain.

Now, that Prefect pin he boasted about so much was more than likely lost underneath the pile of clothes he seemed more than eager to get rid of.

He was more than enthusiastic. While Oliver leaned down, whispering all sorts of encouragement into Percy's ear, he'd lick and lap at your pussy with unparalleled eager. He'd even tilt his head — watching through half lidded eyes as his nose bumped against your clit, sending shivers up your spine.

He was seeking approval.

You affirmed his need by placing your hand over Oliver's, where he had tugged gently on the ginger's hair. As you rocked your hips against his face, he'd moan softly, sending another shock to your core.

The soft moans that spilled from your lips only spurred him on. Meanwhile, the obscene sound and sight of Percy practically eating your cunt had Oliver more than pent up.

Percy didn't mean to give a fuck. No, he was busy, practically drunk off your essence. After you gave a particularly loud whine, he pulled away just to tease you.

"D'you like that?" He whispered against your thigh, breathing softly.

When you nodded feverishly, practically trembling at the sudden lack of contact, he laughed.

Percy hummed, his thumb now pressing down against your puffy clit.

"Yeah, I know you do."

His power trip was cut short when Oliver gave a particularly sharp yank to his hair. Percy was pulled off of you and your legs gave out, splashing back into the tub as they slid off his shoulders.

He'd scowl at the Captain, who only responded by pressing a chaste kiss against his cheek. Percy couldn't bring himself to wipe it off.

"C'mon, Perce,"

Oliver was careful when he pulled you back into the water. You were in a daze, an ache pulsating deep in your core. Merlin, you just wished Oliver could've waited a little longer

"You can't have all the fun." He would stick his tongue out between his teeth, making Percy's nose scrunch with disgust. So immature, that one.

Before you could process another word, you felt the head of Oliver's cock catching on your entrance. It'd started off slow. Each roll of his hips was accompanied why a low groan, his head burying against the crook of his neck.

He'd always been a little loud.

Amidst the coupling, Percy had parked himself next to you. While Oliver gripped your thighs, holding your leg to let your heels press against his back, Percy guided your free hand to wrap against his shaft.

Your thumb swiped over the weeping tip. His hips jerked up at the touch, his eyes fluttering closed as a choked whimper tore from his throat.

Your head was spinning. It all felt too good. The curve of Oliver's cock dragging in and out of your dripping cunt, the sight of Percy biting down on his knuckles to keep himself from cumming immediately..

You snap out of your daze when you feel the latter nipping at your neck. His free hand moved to push and brush against your nipples, the sensation doing very little in helping you keep your composure.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Oliver cooed at the sight, thrusting up with enough force to steal the air from your lungs.

"You're both so fucking mean." You'd cried out, tilting your head down and letting it rest against Oliver's shoulder.

It was too much by now. Too overwhelming; the accumulated sights and sensations. An all too familiar pressure began to form, tightening far too fast and feeling way too fucking good for you to let it stop.

Oliver caught on fast. The hand supporting your waist trailed down, and he rubbed your clit in slow strokes. The feel of his thick cock plunging in and out of you seemed to intensify, stretching you deliciously with each powerful thrust.

The water around you sloshed wildly.

Percy's eyes were open again. He was watching you two, his dick impossibly hard in your hand as he watched Oliver rut into you like a dog in heat. On merlin's third testicle, he couldn't decide who he wanted to be more.

"Ah, you look fucking brilliant," His hand wrapped around yours, encouraging you to stroke faster. Harder Percy's breath came out in ragged pants as he brought his gaze back up. "Bet it feels amazing. 's she tight, Oli?"

Oliver let out a breathless laugh. You cried out when he slowed his pace, pulling out just enough to leave the tip thrusting shallowly at your entrance. He'd snap his hips, filling you back up with a loud squelch.

"As a fucking knot." He murmured, tilting his head back. It lolled to the side as he looked at Percy directly, eyes lingering far too long when he caught sight of your hand beating him off.

"Kind of feels like she was made for me, y'know? Made to milk my cock."

"Oh, don't get ahead of yourself." Percy scoffed.

[samdeancass]

After the Fight: Three Against the World (18+)

Requested by Anonymous

Pairing: Frenchie x Kimiko x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Characters: Frenchie, Kimiko, Y/N

Description: After a brutal day on the run, Y/N, Frenchie, and Kimiko unwind together in their safehouse, finding comfort, intimacy, and a deep sense of connection in each other's arms.

The dim light of the safehouse filtered through cracked blinds, casting long shadows across the worn couch where you, Frenchie, and Kimiko had collapsed after another chaotic day dodging Vought's goons. Your body ached from the fight, but the warmth of their presence soothed the tension. Frenchie sprawled on one side, his arm draped lazily over your waist, while Kimiko curled against your other side, her head resting on your shoulder. The air smelled of gunpowder and Frenchie's cologne, a mix that had become oddly comforting.

Frenchie chuckled softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip. "Mon amour, you were fierce today. Like a wildcat with claws." His accent wrapped around the words, making your skin tingle. Kimiko lifted her head, her dark eyes sparkling with agreement. She signed quickly, her hands moving with graceful precision: You saved my ass. Again. Then she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, her lips lingering just long enough to send a spark through you.

You smiled, turning to kiss her back, your mouth brushing hers in a gentle exploration. "Team effort," you murmured against her lips. Frenchie watched with a grin, his hand sliding up to cup your breast through your shirt, thumb circling your nipple until it hardened. "Oui, but now… we celebrate, non? No more running tonight. Just us."

Kimiko nodded, her fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up to expose your skin. She nuzzled your neck, teeth grazing lightly as Frenchie shifted closer, his breath hot on your ear. "Let me taste you first," he whispered, his voice rough with want. You arched into their touches, the exhaustion melting away under the heat building between you three.

Frenchie captured your mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, demanding and playful. Kimiko's hands roamed lower, unbuttoning your pants and slipping inside to cup your pussy through your underwear. She rubbed slow circles over your clit, drawing a moan from you that Frenchie swallowed hungrily. You reached for him, palming the growing bulge in his jeans, feeling his cock twitch under your touch.

They worked in sync, a rhythm honed from countless nights like this. Kimiko peeled your pants down your legs, tossing them aside, then hooked her fingers into your panties and yanked them off. She spread your thighs wide, settling between them, her breath ghosting over your exposed folds. Frenchie stripped off his shirt, revealing the scars and tattoos that told stories of his wild life, then helped you out of your top, his mouth latching onto your breast. He sucked hard on your nipple, teeth nipping just enough to make you gasp.

Kimiko dove in without hesitation, her tongue flattening against your pussy, licking from your entrance to your clit in one long stroke. She hummed in approval, the vibration sending jolts through you. You threaded your fingers into her hair, holding her close as she sucked your clit into her mouth, her fingers parting your lips to delve deeper. Two fingers pushed inside you, curling to hit that spot that made your hips buck.

Frenchie groaned, watching her eat you out. "Putain, she's so wet for you, chérie." He freed his cock from his jeans, stroking himself slowly, the thick length hard and leaking pre-cum at the tip. You reached for him again, wrapping your hand around his shaft, pumping in time with Kimiko's thrusts. He kissed you messily, then pulled back to guide your head down, pressing your lips to his cockhead.

You opened wide, taking him in, your tongue swirling around the underside as you bobbed. He tasted salty and musky, filling your mouth as you sucked. Kimiko's pace quickened, her fingers fucking you harder, her free hand pinching your thigh. The dual sensations overwhelmed you—her mouth devouring your pussy, Frenchie's cock sliding deeper into your throat.

You came first, your walls clenching around Kimiko's fingers as waves of pleasure crashed over you. She lapped up your release, not stopping until you trembled. Frenchie pulled out with a wet pop, his eyes dark with lust. "My turn to fuck you," he growled, flipping you onto your hands and knees.

Kimiko knelt in front of you, shedding her clothes quickly—her lithe body bare and inviting. She spread her legs, guiding your face to her pussy, already glistening. You licked her eagerly, tasting her sweetness as Frenchie positioned himself behind you. His hands gripped your hips, and he thrust in with one smooth motion, his cock stretching your pussy wide.

He pounded into you relentlessly, skin slapping against skin, each drive hitting deep. You moaned into Kimiko's folds, your tongue flicking her clit while she ground against your face. Her hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as she rode your mouth. Frenchie's pace faltered, his breaths ragged. "Gonna fill you up, amour," he grunted, slamming harder.

Kimiko shattered next, her thighs quaking around your head, juices coating your chin as she came with a silent cry. The sight pushed Frenchie over the edge; he buried himself deep, cock pulsing as he pumped hot cum into your pussy. You followed again, the fullness and friction tipping you into bliss.

He pulled out slowly, cum dripping down your thighs. Kimiko pulled you up, kissing you deeply, tasting herself on your lips. Frenchie wrapped around you both from behind, his arms encircling you in a warm embrace. "Perfect," he murmured, nuzzling your neck. Kimiko signed Love you both with a sleepy smile, her head on your chest.

You all tangled together on the couch, bodies slick and sated. Frenchie's fingers traced lazy hearts on your skin, Kimiko's leg thrown over yours. In the quiet aftermath, the world outside faded—Vought, supes, all of it. Here, it was just love, messy and real, binding you three tighter than any chain.

[forgotthenamelol]

O‘Driscoll dog: Colm O‘Driscoll x male!reader [remake]

Reader: male, AMAB, reader is a virgin, O‘Driscoll reader, gets referred to as “dog”, “pup” and “boy”

Warnings: Colm O‘Driscoll is his own warning, mentions of drinking, blowjob, Colm receiving, dom Colm, sub reader, power dynamics, power imbalance

Camp: Six Point Cabin

Summary: After you saved a job and made the gang a lot of money, you earn Colm‘s attention. [smut!]

[part2]

[image by @mouthgut ]

The robbery was quick, bloody and made a lot of money. A typical O’Driscoll heist, carefully planned by Colm O‘Driscoll himself. Plus it was just a stagecoach robbery, so nobody had any doubt that it‘d be a success. That was until the sheriff with at least a dozen deputies showed up. In the middle of the shootout you realized that your small group couldn’t fight them off, so you decided to make a run for it. But the sheriff was stubborn, dedicated to not let you escape with the money. He aimed, and then shot Seamus, who carried a large bag with the valuables you stole from the stagecoach earlier, from his horse. The other men either didn‘t notice or didn‘t care enough to risk their life for the bag, but you were different. Having joined the O‘Driscolls only a month agoo, you wanted to prove yourself. So withour hesitation you shot back at the sheriff, landing a shot right between his eyes. The deputies were a bit left behind, so you quickly jumped from your horse and picked the bag back up. By the time you were riding away again, the deputies just arrived at the scene, shooting after you and cursing you loudly through the whole valley. “Damn that O‘Driscoll dog, he just shot the sheriff!”

You rode away laughing, together with the other O‘Driscolls, who laughed at the remaining deputies who didn‘t dare to go after you now. The money from the heist seemed to satisfy Colm, who didn‘t really seem to care that most of his men died. He gave you all an approving nod, until his eyes met yours. You exchanged a quick, but somewhat intense eye contact and for a split second, you thought that you saw something in his gaze. Like there was more behind that quick glance he gave you. But then Colm broke the eye contact, saying that the money would finance some fine liquor tonight. The men around you cheered, while you glanced at your boss who didn‘t seem to pay you any mind anymore, too focused on the bag full of money he was given.

So you tried to forget whatever you saw in Colm‘s eyes by doing the only reasonable thing now. Drinking with the rest of the O‘Driscolls. By the time it was getting dark, most of the boys were retelling the heist for the others who weren‘t involved. Laughter erupted, as they imitaded the angry, but defeated deputies.

“Ya damn O‘Driscoll dog!”, Jim called out, like a pouting child.

“He shot the sheriff!”, another man joined, in a high pitched tone.

The men sitting arround you clapped you on the shoulder or hit you with their elbows in an approving way. “Guess that bastard‘s here one of us now!”, one of them said. You grinned back at him, happy to be finally a part of the gang.

“Haha, yes! Ain‘t that right, you dirty O‘Driscoll dog?”

“Oh, that name‘s gonna stick.” You lightly rolled you eyes, as you raised your bottle to your lips again. As you took a swig from your bottle, you saw something in the corner of your eyes. Without much thought, you turned around, looking right back at Colm‘s eyes. Your boss was standing in front of his cabin, his arms crossed, as he talked with a man you haven‘t seen around before. Maybe he was from one of the smaller camps. The expression in Colm‘s gaze was again unreadable, although it made your skin crawl. Quickly, you turned back around, avoiding those grey-ish eyes. But you could still feel him looking at you. Nervously you shifted a little, trying to shake off that weird feeling you got. As you turned your attention back to the camp fire, the conversation seemed to have long moved on to a different topic.

For the rest of the night you couldn‘t get rid of the feeling that you were being watched. But every time you turned back to where Colm had been standing earlier, the man wasn‘t there anymore. Now you sat on a log, tapping your feet while trying to concentrate on the stories being told. Still, your thoughts damped the loud voices around you, making you unable to really concentrate on them. That was until suddenly everything went silent. Ripped out of your thoughts you looked up again, seeing as all the men seemed to stare at you. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion when suddenly a voice echoed from behind you.

“That was some nice work today fellas.”, Colm spoke, making you jump as you realised that he must‘ve stood right behind you. You didn‘t dare to turn around, instead choosing to join the cheers from the other O‘Driscolls. From the corner of your eye, you could see Colm raise his hand and it went silent again.

”But if it wasn‘t for our new boy here,”, Colm spoke sharply as he put a hand on your shoulder, “I would‘ve lost a bunch of men for nothing. No money after weeks of planning, no reward for you.”

The faces of the O‘Driscolls around you quickly twisted into expressions of fear and hesitation. Some men looked down on the ground, too scared to meet Colm‘s expression, others stared up at him, like their pathethic expressions would save them from Colm‘s anger. You could feel his grip on your shoulder tighten a little as he spoke again.

“I hope for all ya idiots this doesn‘t repeat itself. Any man that comes to me with empty hands might as well hang themselves before they do, is that clear?” It wasn‘t a question really. Anyone who would‘ve dared to complain would be a dead man before he could even finish. So the round nodded, some murmured apologies could be heard. Too scared to move much with Colm‘s hand still resting on you, you mumbled a quiet ”Yes, sir.” as well. Immediatly you could feel his eyes on you again, making you shrink just a little. There was a short moment of silence, before Colm patted your shoulder while saying, “Well, like I said, it was a good job, so keep drinkin‘ boys. But don‘t dissapoint me like that again.”

His last few words hung in the air like venom promising to kill anyone who‘d do so much as to gulp right now. Then Colm removed his hand from your shoulder and you felt instant relief, like a huge weight has been lifted off your chest.

„You, come with me. There‘s something I wanna give ya.“, Colm spoke, just quiet enough that only you could hear it. You could hear him walking away, not checking if you were coming or not. He knew that he didn‘t need to check. No one would be stupid enough to not follow his command. So while the rest of the boys slowly relaxed and picked up the conversation again, even though their voices were lowered now, you silently stood up and got after Colm, who had already disappeared into his cabin.

Inside the air seemed to be a lot thicker, heavy wih the smell of cigarettes and whiskey. Colm was leaning against the table standing in the middle of the small room, urging you to come in with one hand. Feeling your breath turning shallower, you closed the door behind you, as you stepped into the cabin. You had no idea what Colm could possibly want from you, or give you, as he had claimed. All you could do was to hope that you didn‘t do anything to upset him. A few moments passed as you stood in the cabin, playing nervously with your fingers while still trying to keep a somewhat good posture in front of your boss, who was busy filling up a glass of whiskey for himself.

“Quite the shootout you had there earlier. Shot the sheriff, didn‘t ya?”, he finally spoke. Colm raised his glass to his lips while looking at you, his eyes scanning over your facial features. ”Uh y-yes sir.” You cringed at the sound of your own voice trembeling under Colm‘s watchful gaze, as his lips twitched into an amused smile.

”Good work, didn‘t like the bastard much, one of those the-world-is-kind-and-bright guys.” A low chuckle came from the man as he drank from his glass again. ”Ya did really good with that money too. Those idiots would‘a just let my good planing go to waste if it wasn‘t for ya.”

You weren‘t riding long with the O‘Driscolls and even less so with Colm but even you knew that getting complimented by Colm was a rare gift. A lot of the men outside would tear you apart just to get told by Colm that they did a good job. But for some reason he chose you. His acknowledgement made you stand up straight again, your shoulders relaxing a little. “Thank you, sir.”

”Ya ain‘t so long with us, can‘t remember your face. What was your name again?”, Colm asked as his hands came to rest on his gunbelt. You noticed the movement and could hardly dart your eyes away from it. Just as you opened your mouth to answer, Colm put his glass down on the table, stepping over to you. Something in the way he was stalking towards you made you think of a predator creeping up on their prey. Only once he was standing right in front of you did he stop. “Ah wait, I think I know.” His voice was suddenly low like a whisper.

With a quick motion, Colm suddenly grapped your face and pushed you to the wall behind you, earning a suprised yap from you. The older man was looming over you, a dirty grin spread across his lips. Instinctively your hands had come up to grab at his wrists, but his grip was suprisingly strong for his age. He leaned down just a little, the smell of whiskey reaching your nose. ”What did they call ya… ah, O‘Driscoll dog.”

You felt your heart drop as he said the nickname the deputies had given you. Colm chuckled as he saw your eyes widen a little, scared that he‘d think the name was a bad thing. ”That true? You my obedient little dog, mh?”

The tone in his voice didn‘t tell you whether he was mocking you or not. It was clear however that he wanted an answer fast. Feeling your heart race you simply answered without much thought behind it. “...Yes, sir.”

You watched, still tense, as Colm‘s grin widened again. “I like the sound of that. Keep callin‘ me that.” Unable to keep looking him in his amused eyes, yours darted down, avoiding his gaze effectively. Then Colm leaned closer again, the stubbles of his beard scratching your cheek and his black hair falling down, tickeling your nose. Again his voice was low, but this time there was something else in it too. ”Then here‘s ya first command pup. On your knees.”

If your legs hadn‘t been feeling weak already, then you‘re sure they would‘ve now. Still pressed against the wall, your eyes found Colm‘s again, as you let yourself slide down slowly. Now settled in the space between your boss‘s legs, you could finally see the reason behind all of this. The buldge in Colm‘s pants was present enough to make you hold your breath as you looked up again. Above you, Colm took in the sight of you between his legs, ready to do whatever he wanted you to. He almost came from the sight of it alone. One of his hands reached down, brushing through your hair before firmly grapping it, while the other worked on his gunbelt. It came off without much effort, before he threw it over a nearby chair.

“Must say, ya look real fine down there.”, Colm said, as his hand now reached to get himself out of his pants. You stared at his length, already fully hard and precum dripping from the tip. As far as his grip on your hair would let you, you turned to look up at him again. The shock must‘ve been written all over your face, as Colm laughed tucking at your hair. “Don‘t get nervous now boy. Ya wanna be good fer me, don‘t ya.”

“O-of course, boss.”

“Ya call me sir. Open up.” With that, he pulled you closer to his length. You obediently opened your mouth, your stomach twisting in anticipation at what you were about to do for Colm. With a sudden harsh tug at your hair, Colm pulled you in just a bit for the start. You only had about half of him in your mouth but the unfamiliar invasion made you gag anyways. Pulling you back again, Colm enjoyed the sight of some spit already dripping of your chin. “Knew it would suit ya.”, he mumbled, as he pushed you onto him again. This time, your nose touched his pupic hair, forcing you to inhale the unwashed scent of Colm. This together with the sensation of Colm‘s dick touching the back of your throat made you gag again, but Colm didn‘t push you off this time. As you started having trouble breathing, gagging heavily around him, you could feel tears starting to form in the corner of your eyes. But Colm‘s grip was firm and only after a few more seconds did he push you off again.

You gasped for air, feeling Colm‘s finger brush through your hair strangely soothingly. “Ya ever did this?” Still not having the air for an answer you just shook your head a little, looking up at Colm through teary eyes. “Don‘t ya worry, this‘ll get better. There‘s a reward in for ya if you‘re good.”

Finally you had collected enough breath again to continue. Colm pushed you onto him again, this time without taking breaks, rutting into your mouth in a steady pace. Each thrust was a fight for air, but eventually you didn‘t have to gag as often anymore, earning a shallow “There ya go, boy” from Colm. You could hear his breath above you becoming heavier as he got closer to his relief. Then with one last thrust he pushed you onto him all the way like he did before, his dick twitching as he came down your throat with a groan.

It took every bit of self control in you to not gag or puke as Colm pumped himself empty, until he finally pulled out. He stepped back, letting you fall over, grapping your throat as the pain of his length intruding you was still apparent. You had to cough a few times, before you saw a pair of boots in front of you. Colm kneeled down to your level, taking your chin in his hands. His eyes looked over you again, making you shiver a bit as his thumb came up to wipe away a string of his cum. Colm smiled at you as you panted.

“There‘s a good boy.”, he cooed.

You felt some heat rising up downstairs at the nickname. Colm noticed too, as he reached with his hand to softly pat you through your pants, making you whimper involuntarily. “Seems like someone‘s ready for their treat.”

He stood up again, walking over to the table and taking his glass again. In one gulp, he emptied it before he let himself fall down on one of the chairs. By now his pants had been fastened again, still he urged you to come closer with two fingers. Wiping over your chin with the sleeve of your shirt, you scrampled up and walked over to him. Colm sat there, with his legs spread widely, letting his gaze wander over you.

“You so scared of me or you just a virgin?”, he asked amused.

“I ain‘t ever…”, a slight flush started to show on your cheeks, as Colm grapped around your waist, slowly pulling you closer by your gunbelt. His hand rested on your waist, as his other came up to feel up your sides, his touch giving you goosebumps.

“Ain‘t no shame in that, boy. Should‘a known you was a sweet one.”, Colm said, watching contently as you shivered under the slight touch of his hands.

Then suddenly he stopped, his eyes coming up to yours. “I think m‘gonna take my time with ya then. But don‘t worry, you‘ll get your reward soon enough.” With that he possessively gripped your ass one last time, making you jump a little. You nodded, mumbeling a last “Thank you, sir.”, before you stumpled out of his cabin, as you were seemingly dismissed. Colm watched as you went, grinning to himself as he scratched his chin. “Thank ya sir…”, he mumbed to himself, “Oh, we‘re gonna have ourselves some fun, won‘t we, pup?”

[remake, because I wasn‘t happy with the first version, this one is closer to the original idea]

[maytheforceormaynot]

[splitrockloser]

Maybe listen with earbuds

[keppa-nero]

@alexxdes Requested this and here I finally am 👹.

HOPE YOU LIKE IT. I DO

Submissive Kieran Headcanons

TW: Sexual Themes \ Smut \ Dirty Talking \ Slight Degradation \ Submission Kink \ Manhandling \ Edging (Kinda) \ Ground sex

Kieran was a good man. He was the type who'd get flustered and red if someone kissed his cheek.

It didn't really help that, just looking at him and his manners, you'd easily guess he was a virgin. Either that or he's just incredibly inexperienced.

But the most quiet are also the freakiest.

You did go out your way to help him 'Experience' some of that that he was losing on... In your own way.

You had both went fishing today, some lake near Horseshoe Overlook and settled for the evening.

It was getting dark, and as much as Kieran was trying to keep calm and not show how he just knew what you were up to, his body was just speaking for him.

He kept glancing at you by the end of his eye to try and read your movements, if you'd eventually reach out for him or not. He stuttered and laughed nervously each time you made any conversation. He was shaking in his boots and you hadn't even started yet.

You got tired of holding yourself back and waiting for the night to fully fall, taking advantage of the excuse that the "fish had went sleeping and you both should stop".

But just as Kieran agreed and walked over to Branwen to leave his fishing rod, you came right over and grabbed him by the back of his jacket, pulling him over away from the horse and shoving him against the biggest tree near.

You smirked at his reaction, seeing how he blinked and processed the situation quickly, looking up at you with wide 'Innocent' eyes and a slightly open mouth, which you rapidly shushed by putting a palm on his mouth. His face was now as red as Dead Redemption.

"You ain't subtle at all, dear..."

Your voice was quiet but dominant in his ears, pressing your body against his, the hand previously on his mouth now gently scratching his beard, while your left one went to caress his side, getting under his shirt.

You felt him shudder under your palm.

"We- W-We're gon'-... Really...?" He asked softly, his gaze fixed down on your hands while the words left his lips, sounding more like he didn't believe more than objecting to it.

"Just if you let me... I ain't gonna do nothing you don't wanna... But seeing how yer reacting, mabye that's what you want, huh?" You whispered on his ear again, his stiffening body making you reassure again "Letting me do what I want, I meant"

He then proceeded to nod frantically at having his doubts answered, pressing his mouth shut and releasing his fists didn't realize were clenched. Now you had him all to yourself.

You, didn't waste any time though.

...

It was already completely night when you already had him in his knees, the fly of your pants down and your belt buckle with your holsters shoved on the grass.

Quiet grunts stood in your throat as he slowly bobbed his head back and forth, your already hard shaft entirely in his mouth and his eyes dazed while looking at it, in a way that made you believe he'd be scared to look up and meet your eyes.

His hands were placed on your thighs, so soft that if it weren't for the warmth of them you wouldn't notice.

Kieran was working wonders on your member, tounge swirling the tip in his mouth and rubbing it entirely against the slick inside of his cheek. He did it slowly in a way that would look annoying, but he was just enjoying the feeling of someone caring.

You eventually pulled out his mouth, with a pop, taking his head so he didn't stand up yet, and moving your hips to tap your dick on his wet lips, his hands trembling when he let them fall off your legs.

"I'm gonna get rough, but you still like it, 'm sure..." You snickered, shoving him back effortlessly by his shoulders, as he fell on his back with a startled 'Oh'.

He looked up from the ground, pupils dilatating when you came down as well.

"I-I'm-... C-Can you-..."

He couldn't even finish his words at how nervous you've made him with something he himself wanted.

You quickly understood what he meant when you glanced down, his legs spread out in the position he fell, knees bent up and resting by your sides, and a small yet noticeable tent in his own pants between his legs.

It filled you with excitement just how miserable he was for you. Despite him trying to look more respectable in the gang, he was really anything but.

"Hm..." You hummed, wordlessly bringing your hand to his waistband and pulling it down to the back of his knees, the hairy, smaller, member swinging up when released.

You could see in his eyes how he was actually enjoying the size difference between you two, and you bucked up to rub your member against his, which only reached to about half of yours.

You spat on it and started rubbing the saliva up and down his smaller pecker, not holding back from going at a more consistent pace than him before.

His legs were twitching as the heat rushed up more violently when you touched him, his shoulders tensing and a pathetic whimper escaping his mouth, head falling back and breathing like a dog while you jacked him off.

"A-Ah my god..." He breathed out with his balls tightening, drawing up exaggeratedly and bucking his hips into your hand. You could just see how he's never had someone like this, and it was exhilarating.

You let go suddenly, after feeling him tensing up, right before he came.

You didn't let him complain or ask as you pushed yourself inside him, grabbing his hips and pinning them to the grass when you started moving slowly. You'd go faster, but he still had to grow used to the sensation.

He cursed loudly at the unexpected feeling, his hands reflectively grabbing your shoulders while he stared in almost horror as you entered, gritting his teeth and groaning deeply, some drool already falling from the edge of his lips.

"Fuck Kieran- I barely started, calm down or yer gon' cut my dick inside you..." Muttering, as you felt how hard he squeezed you when he spoke.

You took a breath, starting to move faster consistently each time you pushed in, pressing your chest on his when he started moving and getting comfortable with you inside, digging his face on your neck, whimpering and moaning sweetly loud with every thrust.

Your hips moved by themselves now, starting to fuck him hard against the ground and looking like two street cats in heat.

His own dick was twitching softly against your abdomen at the sensations you were getting from him, hitting that deep spot inside of him that he was beginning to love.

"A-Ah- Ah... S-Shit, Jesus... O-Oh my Goood..." He ended up trailing off in a whiny voice, your dick stretching him out starting to make him feel restless, and the pace and force didn't help.

You had brought him to the cliff in a minute, as he immediately came when his breath hitched, his white sticky fluids falling on his shirt. But you wouldn't stop yet.

His head fell back again while you continued, his eyes tearing up in pleasure already, looking like he'd start crying while you fucked his ass.

It wouldn't surprise you if this cutie did though.

You started panting after some more time, pressing yourself harder against his as your hips colided, pushing up to look at his teary begging eyes, curses and compliments leaving his lips.

You ended up coming inside him too, breathing loudly and pulling out of him slowly, earning another small grunt from both.

Your own semen was now slipping from his entrance, his hips barely held up by shaky legs.

"Goddamn... You're a tight one, love..."

You mumbled to his embarrassment, a dissappointed look in his eyes when you buckled up to go back to camp. He wanted more.

Kieran was way too exhausted for doing nothing, but way too hot and nervous at the moment to even pull his pants up, instead reached out and hugged your neck, pulling you down with him on the grass.

"C-Can we sleep here...?" He asked shyly, not conscious enough to realize how shameful he must look like now.

"Did I pound you too hard, Kieran? We're gon' freeze here..." You chuckled, but not pulling away and just resting your head on his chest while he hugged you, feeling how hard his heart was still beating.

"We're... W-Will we do this again?" A shy whisper made it's way to your ears

"Tonight in my tent, if your legs can carry you back"

"..." He seemed taken off guard by that, and instead just kept his eyes lost in the sky while in this position.

"C'mon, I'll carry you back in my horse... Sure your back hurts enough to not sit on yer horse, eh?"

"Hm..."

He couldn't even speak.

Kieran left you pick him up back to your own personal tent. Good thing it was far from the rest in camp.

God now his ass did hurt for the rest of the week...

[mediocrecowboyhat]

Our own corner | Javier Escuella x fem!reader

Only the two of you are awake tonight and as one thing leads to another, you find yourself in a compromising position behind one of the wagons.

Word count: 4.2k

Tags: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, reader receives oral, fingering, overstimulation, praise kink, slight masochism, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, rdr2 Javier, both are tipsy

A/N: About time that I write something sexy with him again!

Burning wood crackles, sending embers fly up into the air in swirls. As they rise up into the night, they almost look like tiny, glowing dancers. Most of the camp is asleep and a comfortable silence is draped over the many tents like a blanket. Slow and steady breathing can be heard from the members of the Van Der Linde gang, accompanied by loud snoring from the people who had a bit more to drink before heading to bed.

Outside of camp, beyond the flickering light of roaring flames and dim lanterns perched on top of tables and hanging off branches, the forest starts. Darkness drifts between the trees and behind the shrubs. On less pleasant nights, the barks resemble a set of razor-sharp fangs and the shadows behind are a gaping mouth, bracing to swallow anyone who dares stumble too close.

Fortunately, tonight is not one of them. Instead, it’s slow and cozy. A warm breeze caresses your skin like the breath or touch of a loved one. The flames before you lick at the logs in mesmerizing motions, keeping you entranced. Your fingers are wrapped around the neck of a rum bottle. ‘Guarma’ is written on the label with thick, bold letters. Fidgeting with it, you watch the caramel-colored liquor inside it swirl and slosh in circles.

Tucked away from the others, it feels like Javier and you are in your own little world. Branched off from the weight of life. This is your own small earth with the campfire as your sun and rum as your rivers. It definitely has been flowing in streams. You got this bottle from the money of your first stagecoach robbery you did the other day. You planned and directed the entire job by yourself. Raising your arm, you hold it out to him.

Javier takes it, stares at it for a second before bringing the glass to his lips. As you watch his throat bob each time he swallows, you let your mind drift to certain places. You’ve had your eyes on him for a long time now. How could you not? He’s so devastatingly handsome when his fingers dance across the strings of his guitar or when his singing carries through camp. Or when the blade of his knife seemingly flies over his hand whenever he shows off at five finger fillet.

Form the pale lines adorning his skin, markings from blades that nicked him back when he fled his home to the pristine shine of his shoes. Some of the others make fun of him for being so meticulous regarding his appearance, but you like it. It gives him an air of pride like an exotic bird or perhaps a wild stallion that refuses to be broken in.

“Aren’t you tired?”, you ask and tilt your head to the side. His eyes briefly flicker in your direction.

“No. Are you?”

“A bit, but I don’t want to go to bed just yet.” The hour might be late, but the night is still young for you. After all, how often does it happen that you end up completely alone with the man who has taken residence in your mind? The alcohol’s heat travels down from your chest to your lower stomach.

As he fishes out a white box from his pocket and tucks a cigarette between his lips, you wonder how it must feel to be in that spot. You like to imagine his lips to be soft and warm, perhaps a little wet from his tongue darting out to brush over them. When he holds the box out to you, you curl your own lips.

“Do you want one?”, he asks and you don’t miss the sliver of urgency swaying in his tone. It’s like he wants you to take it. Emboldened by the rum, you shift closer until your shoulders are nearly touching and pinch the cigarette in his mouth between your fingers. When you slowly pull it out to take a puff from it, you believe to detect a hint of his taste lingering on it. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

“Thank you.”, you murmur and watch his throat bob again.

As you hand it back to him, he gapes at it dumbfounded for a hot minute before shoving the stick back into his mouth. A flush creeps up into his face and spreads over his cheeks. Judging by the way his eyebrows are drawn together, one might think that he’s upset over your forwardness. If it only wasn’t for the subtle twitch of the corners of his mouth to indicate his delight.

“You know what? I feel like we don’t spend enough time together.”, you point out, which is not entirely true. The two of you are always together, whether it be late at night by the campfire or early in the morning while sipping at your coffee.

The girls know of your fascination or crush or however your want to call it and something tells you that he does too. Just the other day, you told Karen how much you enjoy watching and hearing him play and he’s been following you around with his guitar ever since. That’s when you figured that he must have overheard the conversation. That and Javier isn’t exactly subtle with his advances.

He’s brass and loud, puffing out his chest and flaunting his feathers like a peacock. You’ve seen it before whenever he tries to woo a lady at some saloon or bar and you always chuckle over it. Until he directed all of it at you and that’s when the laughter ceased, because shit. You’re kind of into it. It went from giggling to chewing on your lower lip while imagining that loud, proud voice turning into a moan and groan.

“You’re so right.”, he hastily answers and you stifle a huff. Knowing him, you could suggest diving naked into a frozen lake and he’d agree.

Raising the bottle, you go to take another sip when you spill some of the rum over your chin. You may have miscalculated the distance or missed the target entirely. Either way, it’s stupid. Perhaps you should lay off the liquor for a few seconds. You’re not downright drunk, but feeling fuzzy enough to qualify as tipsy. The dark liquid rolls down your throat and you catch a few drops with your thumb before they can vanish into the valley between your breasts.

Bringing the thumb up to your mouth, you suck the rum off it and catch Javier’s gaze. His eyes have definitely followed the pearls that had traveled down your skin and now he’s absolutely transfixed on the digit between your lips. Smooth for sure isn’t a word you’d use to describe him. Still, pride swells inside your chest at the reaction you’re tearing out of him.

“I’m bored.”, you declare and panic washes over his face.

“What?”, he stammers and laughs. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Rolling your eyes with such force that it leaves them sore, you wonder whether you should start walking around with a sign around your neck that says ‘I have the hots for you, idiot’.

“Well, that really depends.”, you say. Your frustration has oddly enough gone by unnoticed.

“On what?”

“If you want to find a quiet spot with me.”

The words hang in the air for an agonizingly long time. You start to feel like you perhaps misread all the signs and that Javier isn’t interested in you at all. Suddenly, he flicks the cigarette into the fire and takes your hand. Relief shoots through your body at the response and the certainty behind it. Standing up, you quietly lead him to where the wagons are parked.

They’re off to the side and since they’re so far away from everything important like Mr. Pearson’s makeshift kitchen and Herr Strauss’ medical supplies, nobody has their tent set up nearby. Hidden behind one of the wagons, you lean your back against the wood and chew on the inside of your cheek to avoid the goofy grin that is threatening to spread. It’s been so long since you’ve been with another person, let alone felt the touch that wasn’t purely platonic.

Javier stands in front of you, both hands kind of dangling helplessly by his sides as if he’s still unsure whether you’re genuine with your suggestion.

“Is that how you bed all your women? Just standing there and gawking?”, you tease between giggles and he clears his throat.

“No!”, he protests and as if to proof a point, grabs handfuls of your waist. His fingers dig into the fabric of your blouse and you imagine his fingers moving over you like they do over his guitar. Quick and nimble. Patience running thin, you let your own palms wander across his chest and stomach. Even under the layer of his shirt and vest, you can tell that he works hard. All those jobs that Dutch sends him out on must have done something to him.

One hand travels upward, over the curve of his neck and his soft jaw. Stubbles tickle the tips of your fingers and you curl a loose hair strand around it. Both your mouths hang open in silent anticipation and partly because dealing with the tension is an effort in and of itself. Your chests are heaving from doing absolutely nothing at all.

“Javier.”, you whisper, his name rolling over your tongue like exquisite wine. It leaves your mouth as a breath and he sucks it right in. Next thing you know, his lips collide with yours and you lose yourself in a whirlwind of heat and desire. His tongue slides past your lips and brushes over your own. He tastes of the rum that you shared and the spices that Miss Grimshaw had snuck into the stew.

Your teeth clash occasionally and you trap his lower lip in between them. As you give it a soft tug, you steal a groan from his throat. Growing bolder from the sound, you bite down harsher and you feel his hands tremble over your body.

“Mierda.”, he hisses, grabs your chin and push your head to the side. Your cheek is pressed against the wagon as he dips his head to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and neck. The tip of his tongue grazes over your skin, licking up any remaining rum that you had accidentally spilled over yourself.

Both of you are moving clumsily. The kisses are wet and sloppy, more as if you’re trying to devour one another instead of catching a taste. You’re past the stage of developing an appetite. Now you’re just fucking starving. Javier’s hands grab fistfuls of your blouse and with one strong pull, the buttons give in under the strain. Fabric tears and some of the stitches come loose. Majority of the buttons are still attached, but some of the less lucky ones were sent flying onto the ground.

A gasp leaves your lungs as the cold night air hits your exposed breasts. He clasps a hand over the tender skin and gives it a firm squeeze. The brashness of his action should have left you in outrage. After all, this is your favorite blouse. But it only feeds the ache between your legs and giving you the sense as if your body is melting away in that spot.

His tongue finds your hardened nipples, swirling around and pressing into them. While he’s busy kissing one, his thumb is playing with the other. Pinched gently between his fingers, he tugs and squeezes, playing you like an instrument. Heat rolls over your body. Your blood is on fire. Flames are dancing underneath your skin, leaving you dizzy and yearning.

The hair on his mustache tickles your skin as his mouth sweeps down your stomach and he drops to his knees. As his hands grip the rim of your skirt to hike it up, your own shoot forward to stop him by his wrists.

“What is it?”, he asks, concern swimming in his voice.

“I didn’t wash off today.”, you point out and wrinkle your nose. What is he going to think when he lifts your skirt and is greeted with the smell of sweat?

Something flashes in his eyes when you mention your situation. Wild and hungry. His hand vanishes underneath the fabric and slides up your leg. When she reaches the delicate skin inside your thighs, you can tell that he can feel your wetness already. And when he’s at your damp bloomers, a smile spreads on his lips.

“I’ll do anything.”, he murmurs as his fingers weasel their way into your underwear and brush over your dripping folds. When he pulls the hand back, you can only stare in awe as he brings them up to his mouth to lick them clean. His gaze flickers in your direction, as if to ask silently for permission. When you nod, his head disappears underneath the skirt and he slowly lets your bloomers fall down to pool around your ankles.

Next thing you know, your leg is thrown over his shoulder and you press yourself against the wagon for balance. Your breath gets caught in your throat and you momentarily forget how to breathe from all the anticipation. The only thing you know is that he’s close. You can tell so from his hot breath hitting your skin and his beard brushing over the thick curls between your legs.

Then two fingers part your folds and a shaky moan leaves him. It takes all your willpower not to grab him by the back of his neck and grind against his face. As much as you’d like to ride that pretty nose of his, you’re letting him take the pace with this one. Something wet touches you then. His tongue. Its tip is probing and prying at your entrance, before pressing flat against your cunt and running along it. He repeats the motion a few times, always pulling back right before he gets to your clit.

Desire clouds your mind, leaving it heavier than the alcohol did. You’re not tipsy on the rum anymore. Now you’re just drunk on whatever Javier is doing down there. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, accompanied by soft whimpers. Eyes closed shut, you spread your arms in search for an edge or handle. Anything you can hold on to. Finally, his tongue flicks over your clit that is slightly swollen from arousal.

Stars explode behind your eyelids and you quickly clasp a hand over your mouth to muffle whatever noise is forcing its way out of you. Javier repeats the motion. The part of him that was so keen on teasing and torturing you has disappeared into thin air. He’s equally as hungry and impatient, lapping at your pussy like a madman. Sometimes there’s a rhythm to it and other times there isn’t.

During one of the latter of the two, you frantically hike up your own skirt until his hair is somewhat exposed and you bury your fingers in the dark, thick locks. Holding him tight in your grasp, you nudge him closer to your throbbing core. It tears a low, filthy moan out of him. His own hands have an iron grip on your thighs as if you’re the one keeping him steady instead of the other way around.

“Yes.”, he groans against your cunt. “Please, ride my face. Oh, please.”

His tongue is sticking out, having completely given up on trying to find a somewhat steady pattern. You grind your clit over it, occasionally missing your mark and gliding over his nose instead. Most of your weight is on his shoulder, otherwise you’d slide down the wagon and topple onto the ground. On second thought, you don’t think that you’d mind it if he decides to ravish you on the forest floor.

Whatever drop he can catch, he’s drinking it up. Drinking you up. With one arm firmly wrapped around your thigh right next to his head, he takes his free hand to reach out for you. Through your desperate thrusts, he somehow manages to find your folds without accidentally scratching you and slides a finger in. The second one follows shortly after, practically being sucked up along.

Curling them up, the tips are pressing against your g-spot and your movements falter. Seizing the brief break, his tongue flicks over your clit once more while he pumps his fingers in and out of you in sync. They stretch your walls and vanish inside you all the way up to his knuckles. Something wet runs along your leg and seeps into your shoe. It’s a shame that he’s hidden between your legs this way. You would have loved to watch him at work, see the flush over his cheeks and your wetness coat his face,

“I’m so close.”, you alert him, but you’re not certain that he heard you. He continues his assault on your sensitive nerves and flesh. The orgasm Javier draws out of your is devastating. All strength flees out of your muscles at once and you have to grip onto the edges of the wagon for dear life to not collapse right then and there.

A strangled gasp passes your lips and your eyes are open wide. Hips spasming, you try to pull away, but his tongue is still lapping at your clit. He’s relentless as he eats you out, while his fingers massage your g-spot with a vigor you’ve never seen a man do before. White dots dance in your vision from the overstimulation and the knot that just loosened in your stomach tightens again. It’s as hard as iron and your body is as tense as a drawn bowstring.

The second orgasm feels like a brick to the face. It knocks the air out of your lungs and you sink. Knees unable to keep you upright, they buckle and that’s the only reason he stops. Lips letting go of your clit with a squelching plop, his arms shoot forward to steady you. Your breath leaves your mouth in gusts of clouds. When his head appears again from underneath your skirt, he’s a mess.

The skin around his lips is glistening in the dim moonlight, his mustache and goatee are completely drenched and his hair resembles more a bird’s nest. His eyes are on fire, almost gleaming in the darkness. While still holding onto you, he stands back up on his feet and his lips find yours. The kiss is a little slower to allow you catch your breath again.

Your eyes roll to the back of your skull when you taste yourself on his tongue. His mouth is slick from both you and his saliva that is escaping from out the corner and rolling along your jaw. Pushing your body against his, you feel him hard against your lower stomach. Lust still pumps through your veins and you pull at the waistband of his pants.

Javier immediately understands and his hands fly down to unbuckle his belt. As he works on the buttons of his pants, you relax against the solid wood behind you and kick the bloomers out of the way that are still hanging at your ankle. Dirt covers the white fabric, staining it in dark specks, but you push that thought to the side. Hiking up your skirt again, Javier positions himself between your legs.

One of them is up again, wrapped around his waist and he holds it almost the same as before. As he draws closer, you feel his tip brushing over the damp skin on the inside of your thighs. Reaching for the base of his cock, you let your fingers glide over the curls surrounding it. They’re thick, yet at the same time so soft. Holding onto his shaft, you guide him to your core that is beginning to ache with need again.

Javier slides in with ease, stretching your walls more than you could have ever expected. More than you could have ever hoped for. A shaky breath pushes out of him and he draws his brows together. Focus is edged into his features as if he’s fighting the urge to cum right then and there. Snaking both arms around his neck, you plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth before sinking your teeth into his lower lips once more.

“I need you.”, you whisper into his ear with a sultry voice. If he does finish before starting, you’re not going to be upset. On the contrary, it would be a compliment. “I need you so much.”

He whines in response and buries his face into the crook of your neck. Sweat coats his forehead, smearing it over your shoulder, but you don’t mind. You’re quite sweaty yourself.

“Thank you.”, he stutters breathlessly.

Before you can even think about asking what exactly he’s thanking you for, he pulls out only to push himself back in. Veins drag along your walls. You feel each and everyone of them. The pace is agonizingly slow, but deep enough that you keep any pleas to speed things up to yourself. Having never caught a glimpse of the length between his legs, you always guessed him to be average at most.

How wrong you had been. It feels like he’s splitting you in half. With each thrust, his tip kisses your cervix, though it feels more like he’s reaching all the way up to your throat. You feel the stretch deep within you, feel how his length caresses your g-spot amongst many other sensitive spots that you had no idea even existed.

Every now and then he stops in the middle of it, trembling and panting. The attempts at composure last longer each time. The first few only took a couple of seconds, but now you get the sense that whole minutes are passing. Your hands drag over his shoulders and slip around his waist to his back. Burying your fingers into the vest, you yank him closer into your body. Breasts pressed against his chest, you’re certain that he can feel your nipples through his clothes.

The action has driven his cock deeper into you. The smack of wet skin on wet skin must have been heard throughout the entire camp. Luckily everyone is asleep.

“You feel so good.”, you coo into his ear and a quiver runs through his muscles. You had no idea that he’d be so responsive to praise.

“Thank you.”, he mumbles into your neck. His voice cracks at the end.

“Yes, that’s it. Right there. Oh, Javier, you’re so good.”

Each compliment dropping from your lips has him speed up. By the tenth or so, he’s fucking you in earnest. His hips snap forward like an animal heat, driving his cock into you relentlessly. The pleasure has you both tense and loose. With your back arched and head tipped backwards, Javier seizes the access. His mouth is over your throat, sucking, licking and biting. It’ll definitely leave marks for everyone to see the next day.

The grip he has on your thigh is bruising, but you barely even notice. You’re too focused chasing your orgasm as his thrusts shake your body like an earthquake. The pace is set is rough and punishing, abusing your throbbing cunt over and over. It’s the best you’ve ever felt.

“Keep going just like this.”, you moan, feeling yourself dance on the edge of a knife.

Whatever answer Javier wants to say is being muffled by your skin. His teeth bore deeper into your flesh, sending a stinging pain through your veins and that is all you need. As the spot that he’s biting burns as if someone put out a cigarette it, his tip is hitting a particularly sensitive spot inside you. The third orgasm of the night washes over you like a bucket of ice-cold water.

It’s both agony and bliss. You feel as if you’re feeling into an endless pit, but at the same time lifted high into the sky. When you clench around his cock, quivering, Javier follows you over the edge right after. Hot ropes of cum shoot into your cunt and he still rolls his hips forward as if to make sure that not a single drop goes to waste.

Some of it manages to leak out and run down both your legs like white pearls. For the longest time, the two of you remain frozen in this position and you can feel him turn soft inside you. When he finally finds the strength to pull out, you feel awfully empty. More of his semen follows, falling onto the ground with a splat.

The night lies completely silent, aside from your heavy breathing and you brush some of the hair strands out of his face that are sticking to his sweaty forehead. The scent of forbidden sex fills the air, clinging to your bodies and clothes. Javier mumbles more words of gratitude as he plants a trail of kisses over the side of your face.

“You’re so beautiful.”, he murmurs. “Oh, thank you. Thank you so much.”

At a loss for words, you simply grab him by the chin and bring his mouth closer to yours. You slide your tongue past his lips in an attempt to catch one last taste of yourself.

[fangirlytherapy]

Weasley Twins MasterList 18+

(Note: You must be logged into Twitter [X] and have sensitive content enabled to view the links, i hope you enjoy)

cw: doublepenetration, dom/sub, anal, size difference, creampie, bellybulge, oral, no twincest.

🌸 Fred steals Dad’s magical Ford again and wrecks your soaked cunt in the backseat

🎀 Jealous George inspects your cunt after seeing you talk to another man

🌸 They finish inside you after a Quidditch match

🎀 George is a virgin and you help him finish

🌸 Fred makes your stomach bulge

🎀 When both of them want to use the same hole

🌸 Fred likes to fuck hard

🎀 Waking Up Georgie 💤

🌸 George comes really fast when u wear those skirts

🎀 Fred likes using your mouth on the burrow couch