why are writers afraid of making reader a mature adult?? no i do not wanna see aizawa or nanami with a girl fresh out of highschool age gap hater until i die i don't care
Hii ! I just discovered your blog and your Aizawa x reader fic was AMAZING.
I was wondering if you’d accept to write something for Aizawa ? My idea is Aizawa that’s dating the Reader, but Reader is completely starstruck by him ? Like anything he does, they just take a second to admire him. Even finding him cute when he’s grumpy and dry. Bonus points if they’re colleagues haha.
I hope you have an amazing day/night !
Hi! Sorry that it took a bit too long (for me) to publish this! I didn't know how to process the task but I finally made it! I hope you like it, and if its too short, tell me! I'll do my best to write more!
Startruck by Shouta Aizawa.
Shouta Aizawa was such a handsome man. You were more than sure about it. He was tall, black haired, strong, he was everything that you would seek on a man. And, oh, the best part of all of this? He was your partner. Your partner in hero work, colleagues in your studio and your boyfriend. Best of all, your boyfriend.
Watching Shouta doing anything always made you stare at him. Was he lifting your bag? You’ll stare. Was he half-sleep? You’ll stare. Was he just out of the shower? You’ll stare. You stared all the time, and Shouta was used to it, to say at last.
“What are you looking at now, babe?” Shouta asked you, leaning slightly on the couch back to see what you were watching.
“Nothing serious, just a few photos.” You answered him, scrolling through your phone in the gallery, looking at the latest pictures that you took from Shouta.
“That’s me.” Shouta said, brows frowned but a small smile coming to his lips, you were so obvious sometimes.
“Oh? I didn’t notice.” You continued playfully, turning your face to press a kiss to Shouta’s lips.
“Of course you didn’t, you silly.” Shouta said, pressing your lips against his a bit longer, deepening the kiss. You giggled against his lips, putting your phone down and wrapping your arms around Shouta’s neck, pulling him closer. “You’re gonna make me fall.” He said, breaking the kiss for a moment and taking a seat on the couch, opening his arms for you.
And as every time that something relative to Shouta happened, you stared at his arms. Thick hands, long fingers, the scars that crossed from every battle that he fought and won. And how tired he looked, as if he hadn't slept for a while. You feel a bit of pity for him, but you decided to not comment on that for the moment, instead, leaning towards Shouta and kissing his lips, slow and deep.
He’ll have some time for seeping when you finish memorizing his body again.
warnings: somno (we’re assuming there’s pre-established consent), oral (both m and f receiving), reader has female anatomy, a lil bit of degradation and humiliation if you squint, voyeurism, exhibitionism, kinda rough sex, teasing, marc telling steven what to do
synopsis: steven’s having a sex dream and you wake him up from between his legs
Steven’s dreaming. He’s whimpering in his sleep, tossing back and forth and you wonder briefly if you should wake him—he’s either having a very good dream or a very bad one and you’re not entirely sure if his moans are sounds of pleasure or if he’s facing new horrors brought on by his subconscious and the pain medicine swirling through his veins.
On the off chance he’s having a good dream, you leave him alone. You’re not sure if you could wake him through his morphine induced daze anyways, and he needs the rest. His body doesn’t heal itself like it used to, not anymore, and he’d gotten banged up in a stupid accident on his way home from the grocery store. You’re not entirely sure you believe him either, not entirely sure he’d gotten hurt falling off his bike because you don’t think his injuries match and Marc had been fronting before they left but it doesn’t matter. Either way he’s sporting a cut above his eyebrow and his ribs are going to ache for the next several days.
It doesn’t matter. He’s still hurt.
Steven moans again and this time you reach for him, stopping when your hand is hovering just over his bicep. You’d let him pop a morphine to help him sleep and hopefully alleviate some of his discomfort, and you know the drug can cause a disturbance in dreams but you just don’t know.
is it just me, or is the blatant lack of muriel content genuinely disappointing? like official wise, the amount of content he has is just... idk, feels totally less? unless i'm blind, he only has ONE TALE. ONE SINGLE TALE with him on a bigger focus. and that's with asra. it's cute of course, but it's just one?? while they've added some bullshit ass fucking story about a catboy in vesuvia bruh like wrap it tf up... instead of that shit they could've done ANYTHING else.
i'm really new to the arcana so maybe i don't have a full say in this, but i've completed his route already and do all the little dailies. Idk. It just feels like there's a HUGE favoritism specifically towards asra... or am i crazy....
i love asra, i really do. i'm planning on doing his route next but like. there's just a very clear love for him and not as much as the others💔 especially my goat muriel.
🖤 Summary: A faulty potion left George feeling a little heated.
🖤 Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Reader.
🖤 Warnings: explicit sexual content, masturbation, oral (M receiving), PinV, unprotected sex, pet names, no use of Y/N
🖤 Word count: 6.8k
🖤 A/N: wELL. I tried to write something short, like 2k words, but I ended up doubling the word count. Kind of sex pollen? Not so much tho.
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The thing about experimenting with relatively new, undiscovered ingredients that shone so brightly under the sun was that everything made from them could result in either a disaster or a magnum opus.
One could be considered reckless for trying, only to be awarded as a genius in the end, or you could be called stupid and give them reason to think so. There was only a fine line between genius and complete madness.
It wasn't like George didn't know the problems and dangers of experimenting with new things; he knew them pretty well—he had a burn scar near his left elbow from a time a potion backfired and a bite mark from a living plant he acquired not so long ago.
Nevertheless, creating shiny new toys was what kept him sane from all the bullshit in his life. And those new inventions were as dangerous as facing a Hungarian Horntail with little to no experience fighting mama-bear dragons.
The issue started once he had decided to act recklessly and tried it anyway.
No item added to the potion had been deadly, and none of the combinations should cause long-lasting damage to his body, so he went for it.
He didn't convulse, nor did he faint or fall to the ground screaming in agonising pain. Instead, a warmth spread throughout his body, starting on his tongue and going down with the liquid to his stomach until it fizzled out.
Then nothing.
Nothing after a few seconds, nothing after two hours. No aftereffects apparent. Just a failed potion.
"Mr Weasley, I'm clocking out." Verity's head poked inside his office.
"Mm'kay," he mused, not really paying attention.
He wiped his sweaty hands with his pants and caressed his face with the edge of his quill. He had been busy the last hour trying to reformulate the recipe, going over and over through the things he did and didn't do to get no results. Hypotheses about the potential outcomes of different approaches to the draught filled his Potions Journal.
Verity said something under her breath and closed the door, not really caring what her boss did unless he had collapsed on the floor. The shop officially closed once she turned off the lights and switched the 'open' sign to 'closed'. What happened after wasn’t her problem.
George took off his jacket and threw it haphazardly against the coat rack, not caring that it ended on the floor. He loosened his tie and discarded his shoes somewhere under the desk.
A faint sheen of sweat coated his skin as he continued getting lost inside his head.
It was really hot inside the little office. Despite it being almost summer, there was a spring breeze during the nights that made them slightly chilly rather than warm. There was no reason why the temperature should have been that high.
When George stopped, half an hour after the official close, he was taken aback by how much his skin was burning, his body sweating as if he had been back again practising Quidditch under Wood’s captaincy.
But that wasn’t the only problem that arose. He felt a tingling in his stomach that he initially mistook for hunger. Though it wasn’t like the normal hunger you felt after a day of work, but rather another one that grew unexpectedly.
The tingling had spread lower, tightening slowly in a way that made him frown.
George looked down.
“Fuck.”
He was so hard. Which was weird because he hadn’t been thinking about anyone while he worked, and he definitely didn’t get turned on by his papers.
Maybe the potion did have an aftereffect: excessive sweating, fever-like hotness, and a massive, throbbing hard-on. He wrote that down alongside how many hours it took to get to this state.
This was okay; in a few minutes—if he kept thinking of Snape wearing lingerie—he would go back to normal; he could continue working.
The effects, in fact, did not go away after fifteen minutes, nor after 30, or even after an hour of waiting. He was so very, very hard that it was actually hurting. And there was no reason behind it other than just his blood rushing down.
So he decided to take matters into his own hands.
He unbuckled his belt and lowered his trousers and underwear. His cock sprang out of its confinement with force, erect and proud.
It was glistening, the tip red and swollen. His hand grabbed it, a little bit rougher than he should have. He let out a long groan, his hand starting to move up and down at an impressive speed.
He came fast; after an hour of desperate need, his release hit him quickly.
George grabbed his wand from the desk and pointed it down to clean the mess, surprised to find himself still very much alive. He blinked, confused.
Usually, his refractory period took more than five seconds, or seven minutes if he was extremely aroused. He hardly believed he softened even a bit right now.
He did it again, taking his sweet time. Maybe he hadn’t been satisfied with less than two minutes of wanking off.
So he did it again. And it didn’t solve anything. He came twice, and his dick continued to pulse, pathetically hard, painfully unaware that he had done so.
It wasn’t merely the troublesome ache of his cock wanting attention anymore; it was the overwhelming lack of relief.
By no means was he a sex god; he knew his limitations, and despite knowing he could come more than twice in a night, never back-to-back. It was weird, extremely so.
“What the fuck?” he cursed again.
The worst thing seemed to be the never-ending ache, the arousal that grew with every stroke, with every breathless intake of air. It was like the solution seemed not to be a solution at all.
His brain was starting to fog, slowly but steadily. Every rational thought was replaced by an absolute need he had never felt in his life. It was maddening, so fucking aggravating. The urgency of it began to control his every move, his body aching with a hunger that refused to fade.
So big was the arousal that it was starting to affect him deeply, more than physical, something his mind struggled to process. It was primitive, a craving that came from the basest of his instincts. He needed more, so much more than his hand; it was agonising.
His thumb circled his slit, trying to alleviate the want, his movement becoming restless and erratic. The tip was gradually turning almost purple with unattained bliss, his balls tightening; he was so very close to the orgasm—so very uncomfortably so—yet unable to find fulfilment.
Hazily, his brain started conjuring an image that he quickly shot down as soon as he realised where he was going. Nope. He wouldn’t wank while thinking of…
George groaned, his dick throbbing, rigid and thick as his hand squeezed hard around the base. His breath hitched, and his release coated his fingers a third time in less than seven minutes since he first came.
Much to nobody’s surprise, when he looked down, the head kept pointing up, a mocking tear slipping out of the small opening. This time, he hadn’t even started going soft before he was ready to go again.
He tried reading his notes, the lines convoluting into one. His penmanship was horrible, yet he had always been able to read his own handwriting. Now, the letters were blurring as he read over and over again the first two ingredients, floating in front of his eyes without him being able to decipher the meaning behind them.
You interrupted whatever coherent thought he could only pray to summon while he tried to read to make sense out of this… sex energy.
You, wearing a summer dress while walking through the orchard during heated evenings when he invited you to the burrow, your hair up in a rumpled ponytail that had some grass trapped in its strands. You, with your beautiful laugh and even more beautiful frown when he did something you disapproved of.
You, with a strip of the dress slowly sliding off your shoulders, revealing more than he should have seen. The creamy skin of your cleavage, marked with soft tan lines after spending too much time in the sun, and the suppleness of your thighs as the dress flowed with the wind.
With a thud, George dropped his head against the wooden surface of his desk, papers crumpling under the weight of it, his mind full of indecent thoughts.
Where had he gone wrong? He had followed all the necessary steps to not create a monster potion, and none of the ingredients was any sort of aphrodisiac that could potentiate his sexual need.
Mastering potions was an art he had developed over the years. It had been necessary; he needed the OWLs and NEWTs in potions if he wanted to register in the potioner's registry.
So, when he started mixing up ingredients, he had some sort of idea of what the outcome of such a concoction would be. The potion would make you enter a state of euphoria—like the giddy effects of the Felix Felicis, only more akin to an adrenaline rush than liquid luck.
However, despite his best efforts, he had brewed a completely different potion.
And he couldn’t even grab his journal to take a look at it and see what combination ended up leaving him so horny he couldn’t think straight, because his brain had only one thing in mind.
It was a fixation, a stupid infatuation that he always came back to. Literally and figuratively. The image of soft hair, beautiful, luscious lips and supple skin started strongly whispering your name in his ear.
His weakened mental state had made him unable to stop the image from going away as he did before, well aware of how his cock twitched at the memory of you laughing, your head tilted back, leaving the creamy expanse of your neck exposed for his eyes to wander over. Invading his brain, making the arousal spiral around you.
Days of pure torture since he met you, trying to think of you with innocent intentions, letting the desire simmer down low on his stomach, completely aware that you had never seen him as more than a friend.
“George?”
Oh, bollocks.
This couldn’t be happening to him. No, it had to be a hallucination of his incredibly lustful mind. He had conjured your voice just like he had conjured your image writhing under him, moaning his name as he drove inside you with manic intent.
But there was the unmistakable click of your heels padding through the small hallway from the shop to his office. And before he could react, the door opened.
“You’re still here.” You said, voice worried, as you started walking towards the desk.
He thanked God he was sitting, his naked cock covered by the desk, his feverish forehead pressed against the wood.
“Fred sent me to look for you.” You were so close to him, unaware that he was trying hard not to moan at the concern in your voice. “He said you were making some new stuff. Are you overworking yourself again?” You stopped beside him.
He groaned when he felt your hand burying in his hair. His cheeks turned impossibly red at how whiny he had sounded. You seemed taken aback by it, too, mistaking his thirst for pain.
“Georgie, are you okay?”
Slowly, your hands grabbed his head and made him look at you, one of his cheeks resting on the table, his forehead shiny with strain. He was a mess. And whatever you saw on his face made you blush, your eyes scanning his for any clue.
You were so ravishing.
Ethereally so, like a princess straight out of a fairytale.
You always shone with happiness, a warmth that made him feel especially at ease. He couldn’t not be relaxed when he was with you. It was your superpower; you were like a living calming draught (despite his not-so-calm problem).
Right now, you looked like whatever dream he had shamelessly buried had come true. Your makeup smudged after a day of working, dressed up in formal attire. A skirt so tight it squeezed your thighs salaciously, and heels that made your legs look endless.
The white button-up you wore was open, letting you breathe after a long day, your chest heaving, trapped under a layer of suffocating clothes.
His mouth watered, and his eyes grew hazy, lasciviousness written all over his lidded eyes. It was pure torture to have your tantalising form in front of him and not being able to touch you, to have you fluttering all over him when he was so awfully fervent.
“You’re hot.” You said as you pressed the back of your hand against his forehead.
He blinked. “No, you are hot.” He heard himself saying as he nudged his face against your cool hand.
George closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he took in your scent. Flowery, with some hints of coffee and something so uniquely you, so attractive, so undoubtedly feminine and powerful, alluring in every way.
It made his cock jerk under the desk, bewitched by you. He wondered if you would still smell that good after sex or if you would be covered in his essence.
You gasped, then frowned. “What? George, are you drunk?” Despite saying that, he could see the way your pupils had expanded.
For someone whose brain was incredibly muddled, once you had stepped inside the office, he couldn’t help obsessing over you, analysing every twitch of brown, every grimace, every exhale.
You tried to push his body away from the desk, but his hand grasped the edge of the table, forcefully keeping himself in his place.
“George!” You exclaimed when his body didn’t budge. “Let me help you.”
Oh, how very convenient. He had an extremely painful problem between his legs, which he thought you could help him with, but what kind of friend would he be if he flashed you with his naked erection? No, he couldn’t have you finding out what was happening away from your prying eyes.
“I’m fine,” he breathlessly said.
“You’re definitely not fine,” you mumbled, bending slightly to take a better look at his face. “You have a fever.” You decided, resolution in your voice.
Your hand came to his face again, delicately stroking his cheekbone, his furrowed eyebrows, and his slightly crooked nose covered in freckles. A small whine escaped past his lips at the sensations, his feverish face welcoming the caresses with eager want.
You didn’t know how much you were affecting him. As if he were an inexperienced boy, he felt about to burst at the barest contact of skin against skin. He needed more of your touch in all the other parts of his body, your nails digging into his skin as he buried himself deep inside your heat.
“No,” he shook his head, moving his face away from your fingers.
There was a small trace of consciousness still clinging desperately to his mind, reminding him that you were his best friend, the woman who was never interested in him, the one who he was supposed to take care of.
“George,” you mumbled, your tone tender and full of worry. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
You tried again, getting close to him and grabbing him by his shoulders, attempting to pry him off the desk. But he refused, his hands clinging to the edge.
“Hey, come on, let it go.” Your fingers tried to extricate his hand from its hold on the desk.
His control was wearing thin with every touch, every whispered word, every heavy breath. He needed to get you away or pull you closer. It was killing him—turning him on even more.
“’m fine,” he managed to let out, a whimper threatening to escape when the push and pull made his cock sway, tortuously brushing against the fabric of his shirt.
“Fine? You’re sweating your arse off, your face is all red, and you’re shivering.” You pointed out the symptoms.
The shivering, he noticed, started just when you entered the room, as if you were the catalyst for it. And maybe you were, considering how much he was restraining himself from grabbing you and fucking you on the desk.
He gasped. Now he had the image, burning in agonising need, filling him with a renewed wave of lust and passion.
“It was a potion,” he swallowed, his hands swatting yours away. “I was reckless.”
Closing his eyes, he ground his teeth, his imagination doing nothing to stop the incommensurable want, the scorching desire in his veins. He needed… he needed you so much, so much so that it was like being hit with the Cruciatus curse.
“Please, go away,” he mumbled, restrained by the last of his self-control.
“No, you need help!” You, stubbornly, placed a hand on his nape, like you had done plenty of times.
He drew in a shaky breath when you had finally been able to remove one of his hands from the edge of the desk and turned his chair to look at you. He closed his eyes when your eyes started trailing lower.
There was a beat of silence.
A gasp. Then silence.
He could feel your heat near him, paralysed. Your hand was squeezing his without you even realising, but George didn’t say a word. He didn’t dare to.
You were still quiet when he opened his eyes, looking at your face slowly. Your eyes were lowered, lidded, as you took in the sight of him, rigid and swollen.
Your mouth opened, as if you were trying to find the right words. But then you closed it, unable to say anything.
“It wasn’t… supposed to be like that,” he grimaced. “I can’t stop it.” He waited a second, then two. “It-it's the aftereffects of a potion.”
You blinked slowly, cheeks red. “Aftereffects?” Your eyes flickered towards his cock.
“Uh, yeah.”
George didn’t say anything else; he closed his eyes again. The awkwardness of it all was doing nothing to calm the desire inside him; in fact, every time he felt your eyes on him, his shaft twitched, loving your attention.
His shirt was now covered in sweat, sticking to his chest as he breathed. It felt heavy, and he desired to take it off, to get rid of every piece of constricting clothing. But you were still there.
Why were you still there? He opened his eyes again and looked at you, really looked at you.
Those beautiful moons he had admired so much every time he stared at you were gleaming shyly, twinkling under the artificial light of the office. It was a twisted gleam, one that rendered him breathless.
And you were looking at him a little too much, almost as if admiring it. You hadn’t covered your eyes, you hadn’t yelled at him, and you didn’t even attempt to get away from his office. You remained there, staring, nibbling the inside of your mouth.
Bashful curiosity mixed with a tinge of lust.
Just this time, he wasn’t the same George who drove away whatever devious thought he had of you in exchange for pyjama parties and skin care. This time, he was not in his right mind to try to resist much longer. He saw an opportunity, and he took it.
Slowly, his free hand moved towards his erection, his eyes intently ogling you. The swell of your breast, the curve of your hips, and the biteability of your thighs. Oh, what he would do to touch you, to ravish you the way no man had ever done.
You shuddered as his hand started stroking his cock again. His palm firmly wrapped around the base, harsher than he usually did. But he needed harshness; he needed the pain to ground himself and not jump your bones.
“George,” you breathed.
“Love,” he moaned, his eyes fixed on yours as his face contorted in pleasure and agony.
He knew that there was a high chance that you would slap him in the face and never speak to him again. But he simply couldn’t pretend like his blood wasn’t boiling inside him, that his skin wasn’t itching, or that his dick wasn’t imploring for release.
It was painful, very painful. Every stroke felt like his heart was going to come out of his chest, like his member was being constricted, the grip tightening with every move of his hand.
You moved lightly. Not away from him, but closer until your legs were touching his.
“Does it hurt?” you asked low, very low, barely a whisper he could hear.
He nodded. “So much, love.”
George breathed sharply, a wanton huff escaping from his lips as your hands came to rest on his thighs before you crouched in front of him.
He watched as you rapaciously slithered one hand up and grabbed him, your fingers over his.
“Merlin,” he muttered as his head tilted back.
You pried his hand away from his cock, replacing it with yours, and it was glorious. George felt like he was soaring through the skies, and you had barely touched him. The sensation was too wonderful on his neglected swell.
It started with tentative strokes that had him seeing stars. The fact that it was you seemed to have exacerbated the effects of the potion, or maybe he was simply a goner. Then, your fingers started getting bold, your thumb rubbing his head, drawing small circles around his slit.
He was crying. Figuratively, of course. Though he was very close to shedding a tear or two from the pleasure. He was leaking pre-cum, as if his previous orgasms hadn’t been enough to drain his seed.
“Is it okay?” you asked, voice suspiciously timid.
He straightened his head to look at you, and the sight almost made him die. You, a beautiful angel, the cause of his nightly misery and the blessing of his daily life, were looking up at him with an infectious greed on your face.
When he opened his lips to tell it was more than okay, it was his holy grail; you stuck your tongue out and licked a drop of his semen.
Sensations exploded inside his body, and before he could even think, his hand had grabbed the back of your head, and he forced his dick past your lips. You received it with a naughty moan, relaxing your throat for the intrusion. So obstinate in your mission that you hadn’t stopped to look inside his eyes, to look at the perverse twinkle that slowly started to cloud his cerulean eyes.
Releasing a groan, he buried his fingers in your hair when your throat contracted, a reflex that brought him nearly there. There was a darkness and an overpowering need to just take and take long and hard.
You moaned as he released his grip on you, only to thrust inside your mouth again, a punishing pace that made you slap his thighs in protest.
He chuckled. “You said you wanted to help.”
“Don’t be an arse,” you hoarsely mumbled.
Your mouth was connected to his shaft by a sling of saliva, and your eyes shone with unreleased tears. Your chest heaved, breasts straining against your shirt.
His thumb travelled to your lips, parting them as his hand guided his cock near your lips again. You stuck your tongue out, giving small kitten licks before you sucked it. He whimpered, nearly closing his eyes, only stopping because he didn’t want to miss the view in front of him.
It was so much better than he had dared to dream of. Whatever fantasy he had held before paled in comparison to the reality. Like comparing a whisper to a brick.
And your little, audacious tongue was bringing him closer and closer to release. You knew what you were doing, and if he hadn’t felt the clear signs of his release approaching, he would’ve felt a certain green-eyed monster appearing in his heart.
Your hand travelled towards the base of his cock, and your grip turned to steel. It was enough for George to feel like a volcano was erupting inside him. He had no time to let you know before he came.
The sight of you, with your swollen lips, face covered in his cum and tongue sticking out to lick your lips, was satisfactory enough. More than that, actually. It was like seeing the most outrageous pornographic picture his eyes had the pleasure of seeing. It was so lecherous; not even his imagination had been able to conjure such an image.
But the fulfilment was short-lived before the agony hit again. It was pure and simple torment. He had come, yet his cock was still the same as before. Red, hard, and now impossibly swollen.
George felt like he was in a constant state of ecstasy, unable to reach the peak for more than a second before he was back in the throes of passion. That would break even the mightiest man on earth.
His control slipped a bit, and before you knew what was happening, he had you pinned against the desk, your back against his chest, your hands firmly pressed on the wooden surface. He was breathing hard against your neck, his hand above yours. His shaft pressed against your ass, staining your black skirt with drips of his previous release.
It felt unreal. He felt like he had suddenly died and spawned into an alternative reality where he wasn’t the boy you had always claimed was like a brother. Suddenly, you had sucked him and made him cum.
And he felt so out of control. He wished this had happened in other circumstances, maybe after a few dates, where he would have charmed your knickers off. But, alas, destiny—more like his own idiocy—had other plans.
Your mouth was open, a small gasp coming out of it, eagerness marked with iron all over your face when he lazily moved his hips to let you feel his hardness. You bit your lip and closed your eyes.
Everything he had ever wanted was for you to be this close to him and have the same effect on you that you had on him. It was maddening, and you were just beginning to see the depth of his feelings.
“God.” You managed to let out.
His hand travelled up, dragging his fingertips over your arm before he finally decided to switch to your breasts. You let out a muffled whimper when he squeezed it, not tenderly, but with the brutality of a man acting on instinct, on primitive hunger.
George took a breath full of your scent, and his twitched, his hips thrusting forward, making you yelp at the suddenness. He could live only on this, the scent of you as you blushed and tried not to moan and mumble.
Sneakily, his fingers pulled at your shirt before he ripped it open.
“George!” You protested as you watched the buttons falling. “That was an expensive one!”
You were wearing a simple bra, nude enough not to be seen through your white shirt. It made him feel victorious just how taken by surprise you had been. You weren’t wearing one of those lacy lingerie sets he just knew you possessed; you weren’t expecting anyone to see you like this.
It’s not like he didn’t know you weren’t seeing anyone at the moment; it was more the fact that he liked seeing you wear mismatched and completely comfortable underwear. It felt more intimate, like he was more than just a fling to scratch the itch.
“So gorgeous,” he grumbled, more of an out-loud thought than a comment for you.
His hands pushed the bra down, fondling your tits with fervour and softly pinching your nipples. But that wasn’t enough. One hand travelled down towards your thighs, bunching your pencil skirt up.
Your hand surged forward, stopping him from revealing your knickers. It was a reflex, not really meant to stop him. It was hesitation, despite you knowing how his cock tasted.
If they continued any further, things would change forever. Even more than they already did.
“Love,” he mumbled, pressing a delicate kiss against your neck. “It’s okay,” he said, his tongue coming to lick the patch of skin under your neck. “I got you.”
You drew in a shaky breath as his mouth worked on your skin; your hands pressed against his lost their stiff grip, unaware of his stealthy movement. Slowly, calculatedly, his fingers were bunching your skirt up.
“I- George.” He could see the wanton desire on your face.
“Let me take care of you, love.” He whispered, lapping and nipping, drawing a small gasp from you. “I need you so much.”
You were shivering, your hands trembling above his. And he wanted to laugh, and giggle, and fucking scream at the top of his lungs that he had the most beautiful woman writhing in pleasure at a simple touch.
His fingers started tracing soft patterns on your thigh, and his other hand teased your nipple with a velvety touch.
“You’ll feel so good,” he groaned, rubbing his cock against your arse again. “So good, love, so full.”
There was silence, and his whimper, and his breath, and him pressing against you. You breathed, your desire winning against hesitation. He saw it in your eyes as you turned to look at him. George didn’t know what you saw in his eyes; he hoped for everything he couldn’t dare to pronounce right now.
“Please, love.” It was a desperate plea, a longing expressed, an ask for confirmation, for reciprocity.
Your pupils dilated, leaving almost pitch-black eyes; your quiet want was now as noticeable as his. You nodded, a little tilt of the head—that was everything.
As if he had been granted access to the most sacred place, he turned you around, throwing off all the papers and books from the desk, and softly placed you above it. Your hands came to rest on his shoulders, not timid but unsure of what to do.
He grabbed the back of your head and brought you close to him, slamming your lips against his in a fierce, frantic kiss. It was sloppy, needy, full of furious devotion. And you took everything, trying to match his surprising rawness.
George had been waiting for this moment for as long as he had known you. Craving and hoping that someday you would give him a hint, something he could decipher and decode, something that could make him sure that you loved him with the same burdened passion he did.
It was heaven turned earth, as if he had been gifted a piece of sky on your lips. A most covetous dream turned into absoluteness.
Your hands were slower than his, not affected by whatever his body was under the influence of, tasting the change on your fingertips, receiving the brunt of his fire with equal slow burning.
Voracious hands wandering under your skirt, drawing shuddering breaths that were like music to your ears. His fingers, relentless in their search, slithered under your soaked knickers, touching rapaciously your slit, finding the bundle of nerves.
You let out a mewl, lips distancing ever so slightly from his, breath starting to quicken with every stroke of his thumb on your clit. He felt your wetness seeping out of you, coating his finger.
“George,” you breathed. “I want you, I need you.”
He lowered his face towards your neck with wet kisses, leaving a blazing trace everywhere he touched. He nibbled, and nipped, and sucked, and licked, feeling victorious every time you let out small gasps.
His heart beat furiously on his chest as he heard your precious sounds. Soundless moans, sighs, and tiny whines hit him like a sledgehammer.
“You already have me, love,” he replied, his ache the proof of his statement.
And he throbbed, his cock impossibly hard and leaking, ready to be released from this vexing desire that clung to him. So, slowly—very slowly—he pulled your knickers down, taking them off with a patience he didn’t possess right now, but that you deserved.
“Unbelievable,” he mumbled to himself.
George, more than anything, wanted to rip your clothes and sink into your heat, making you scream at the raw sensation. It was a matter of time before the animalistic urge took him, but he could give you a sense of control, something for you not to feel so… used.
This wasn’t potion-driven; his feelings, he meant. He had wanted this since forever, always. He would hate it if, when they finished everything, you drew wrong conclusions based on the circumstances of this encounter.
It was much more than a quick shag, even if right now all he wanted was a quick shag.
He didn’t look at you, fearing that if he saw your face, he would lose it completely. Yet he took your hands and brought them to his head, making you bury your fingers in his hair.
Gently, but clumsily, he opened your legs further before he grabbed his cock. The head found the entrance to his innermost desire before he sank inside your cunt with much restraint.
“I’m yours,” he whispered against your skin, words that you didn’t hear but that he desperately needed to pronounce before giving in.
Agonising inch by agonising inch, stretching you carefully, giving you time to accept him with no preparation at all.
He was lost. It was like drowning in the vast ocean, except that he was right where he wanted to be. He needed no rescue or help, as the depth of the water had now become his most wanted and prized treasure.
You whimpered, taking him all in. Your hands were pulling at his hair when he was all the way nudged into you.
He was big, bigger than all the men you had been with; he knew that for sure—was certain of it by the way your pussy clung desperately to him, trying to asphyxiate him deliciously, unused to the stretch.
Never had he experienced such pleasure before. A divine experience, religious. If it weren’t because he didn’t believe in external forces, he would have already thanked all the gods for this moment.
Maybe it was because it was you, or because of the potion heightening his senses, making him unrestrained and so very sensitive. He didn’t know. Probably a mixture of both, but it was heavenly.
George thrusted tentatively at first, controlling the pace. That was until you made him look into your eyes, and he saw his expression mirrored in your dazzling eyes. Glowing with arousal and titillating hunger.
Something cracked. A rapture.
The fever taking full control, the potion overtaking; his love finally out in the open.
“God, love. Your cunt was made for me.”
He snapped his hips with unrelenting force. The desk shook, and you moaned, adorably surprised at the impact. But he had no time to stop and admire your scrumptious look, not when he was balls deep inside you.
The fog was back, making him think of nothing but your perfect cunt milking him so good. His shaft brutally drove in and out, a ruthless pace that seemed like piquant punishment.
“Love, you’re taking me so good,” he couldn’t help but mumble in your ear. “Gonna make you cum so hard, baby.”
His thumb flew back to your clit, rubbing circles that made you clench your pussy around him. It drew tiny whines from his throat, unable to stop vocalising how much he was enjoying the obscene dance.
George had never been much for being loud during sex, not really. Right now, it felt like every groan and mewl came from deep within. He was helpless, the sounds of his pleasure escaping without anything to stop it.
Rolling his hips slightly, he adjusted the position, and it was then that your breath hitched, your eyes closed tightly, and your teeth nibbled your lower lip.
Pornographically indecent. You, your face, the sounds your cunt was making as he plunged inside, and the mewls and breaths. It was just too much for him to even begin to describe.
“Fuck,” you moaned high-pitched. “Don’t stop. Please, Georgie.”
His cock kept bullying that spongy place inside you, earning more lewd cries. You didn’t even need to say what was happening; he felt it in the way your walls clenched as he redoubled his efforts on your clit.
Hips stalled for a second as he spilt inside you before plunging even rougher. The squelching sounds of you milking every little drop of his cum mixed with your loud pleas for more.
George didn’t stop until your body went rigid and you held your breath inside your lungs before relaxing in his arms. And even then, he kept lazily thrusting inside until you circled his waist with your legs and made him come to a halt.
Lips coming to kiss yours, sloppier than ever. It was dirty, charged with the smell of sex and your mixing fluids. There was a tiny trace of your flowery, delirious perfume coated with the scent of him and musky sweat. It created the perfect, most unique perfume. So enticing, so magnetic.
“Merlin,” you mumbled, breathless, a giggle bubbling from deep within. “That was something…”
He was not done, not in the slightest. He gave you a second to stop your beating heart before he pulled away from you, manhandled you until you were chest down on the desk, and pushed himself back inside your drenching hole.
It started again, even more aggressively than before. The orgasm did nothing to diminish the sizzling craze within him.
His hand came to grip your hair, pulling, eliciting a long, needy sob out of your lips. He pushed against you with violence, the desk cracking under them at the sheer fury of his movements.
For a moment, he feared it would give up on them, but he simply pulled you against his chest, your hair still gripped in his hand, while the other got lost between the soft curls between your legs.
This time, it took him longer to succumb to the blissfulness of orgasm. Growing increasingly frustrated that the apex of his desire lasted only a second before he was once again hard and ready.
While you surmounted another wave of pleasure, his had lasted a total of five seconds before his cock was ready to go again. If it weren’t for your hand stopping him, he would’ve probably kept fucking you until you couldn’t even speak coherently.
“You’re still hard?” You mumbled after a second, your voice still trembling with the force of your second orgasm.
He didn’t speak, just nodded.
You bit your lips before you pushed him away and changed your position to face him again. You sat on the desk again, ignoring the embarrassing sensation of his cum dripping out of you.
He nearly smiled at the sight. You were wincing at the sensation of the wooden surface as you tried to look serious and collected when your hair was messy, your eyes were filled with tears, and your skin was covered in sweat.
Before you spoke, he planted a small kiss on your lips that turned deep very quickly, his tongue battling yours, playfully teasing your lower lip.
Now that he had tried kissing you, he didn’t think he could ever stop. Not now, not ever.
You pushed him away, licking your lips and looking at him with heated eyes. “Uh… how many times have you…?” You made a suggestive hand gesture. “Before I interrupted?”
It took a second for his brain to catch up and respond. “Like three times.”
And none of those times compared with the way you had made him cum. The fogginess that blinded him was easing from his brain more and more after every you orgasm he had had.
You were his cure, and his curse too. His erection was pathetically begging to be back inside you, to let him cum as many times as it wanted inside you until his balls were completely empty. George also wanted to bring you to his bed and cup your face and tenderly thrust into you as he stared into your moonlit eyes and your fingers intertwined.
Your mouth opened, bewildered. Your hands gripped the edge of the table. “In a row?”
He nodded again, diving towards your chest, lapping at it lazily, his mouth tracing a wet path to your nipple. You moaned, melting to the sensation.
“Did it ever stop being hard?” You asked, hand travelling to his nape, curling around the strands of hair there.
“For a sec,” he whined, mouth sucking roughly at the skin beside your nipple.
“Merlin,” you laughed incredulously, hand pulling his hair with more force at the sensation of his lips. “And you’re still…”
You trailed off as he started to become agitated once again, his cock humping against your stomach.
Pairing: AMAB! Sloan Cameron x fem! Reader (reader uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)
Genre: smut/NSFW
Word Count: 4.6k
Summary: Sloan is in for much more than they bargained for when they find a statue with magical properties—and you might be the only one who can help them out
CW: porn with plot, AMAB! Venture, sex pollen (but it’s a magical sex statue), dubcon, masturbation, showering, dirty thoughts (abt reader), slight voyeurism, blowjob, hair pulling, face fucking, cum swallowing, cock riding, mating press, multiple orgasms, protected AND unprotected sex, doggy style, multiple rounds, overstim, lots of cum, (think that's everything) use of the word shaft (im so sorry i hate this word but there’s only so many synonyms for dick)
yes the title is a pun ^.^ i meant to post this way earlier in the day but i got distracted and didn't end up finishing til tonight and it came out WAY LONGER than i thought. this is fr the longest smut ive ever written. anyway venture whores hope you all enjoy <3
It must’ve been Sloan’s lucky day. After barely an hour of searching, the glittering artifact they’d been looking for seemed to jump right out. Though the dusty gold colour blended in with the shimmering sand of the cavern, the three pink gems of the small statuette seemed to call to them.
The figure was cold to the touch and buttery, barely bigger than the size of their hand. It was shaped like a beautiful curvy woman, with full breasts accentuated with the pink stones and a thick tummy—the likeness of some old, forgotten deity that Sloan could never remember the name of.
They took out a soft piece of cut cloth and wrapped the statue before tucking it in their pack and beginning the short trek to the surface. Sloan buzzed the whole way up, that warm tingling washing over them. The kind they always felt when they found a new artifact, or when you laughed at one of their dumb jokes.
As the surface came into view, the golden sunshine just beginning to dip below the horizon, the warmth grew stronger. It had been a hot day, and it seemed that though the sun was setting, the heat had not yet begun to dissipate. They took a long pause, letting themself rest on the rocks outside of the cave.
Wiping the sweat away from their forehead, they took a big drink from the canteen of water they’d brought along with them. It was a short trek, they weren’t usually this sweaty and parched from something so basic—but with the warmth of the day at its peak, they shrugged it off.
The car they’d taken was only just down the trail, maybe ten minutes away. With one last sip of their cold water, they tucked it into their pack and started the walk back. The sky was turning pink as they set off, but slowly turned to purple and then the rich black of night.
Despite the day’s end, the heat only grew more unbearable with the walk. Their thighs cramped as they made their way down the trail, their heart beginning to race. Whatever, they tried to ignore it and power through to the car.
Sweat coated Sloan’s forehead and chest by the time they made it to their vehicle. Their hair was slicked to the back of their neck, and the t-shirt they’d been wearing was rendered near see-thru.
“Jeez,” they sighed, tugging off their t-shirt.
They tossed the sweaty fabric into their backseat along with their pack before sliding in the front seat to drive. They kept the AC on full blast the whole trip back home, though it did little to stop the boiling in their blood.
Sloan was just pulling off the highway when a gasp forced its way out at the sudden tight feeling in their pants. They risked a glance down to their hard cock now straining against the thick fabric of their carharts. They shook it off, turning onto their street and trying to ignore the feeling of the bulge in their pants only growing with each minute.
It was almost painfully hard by the time they made it home. Sloan almost forgot their pack in the back of the car in their race to get inside and free their aching cock from the fabric that confined it.
A sigh ghosted their lips when their cock sprung free from their boxers and they wrapped their sweaty palm around it. Their core was near sweltering, their cock throbbing in need.
With a glance at the door to make sure it was locked behind them, Sloan spat in their hand and started to spread it across their aching cock. A shiver crawled its way up their spine, acting as a brief reprieve from the heat that threatened to consume them. They clamped a hand over their mouth and began to slide their hand up their length.
With barely a touch, they were already so sensitive. Pre cum dripped down the tip, pooling across their fingertips and mixing with the saliva already spread over their skin. They squeezed harder, dragging their hand up and down faster. Their muffled moans vibrated against the clammy skin of their palm, their eyes falling shut as their hand fell into a rhythm.
Thoughts of you filled their head. Thoughts of your smile, of your warm skin, of pinning you to the bed and using you however they pleased. Sloan gasped, opening their eyes as they came into their palm.
Fuck. Cum rolled across their fingers, down their still hard cock and collected into the hair at the base of their pubic bone. They smeared the remainder of the cum on their thighs, shaking off the aftershocks of their orgasm and deciding a cold shower would solve both the mess they made, and the throb between their legs.
With their clean hand, they dragged their backpack with them all the way to their bedroom, tossing it in the corner before grabbing a towel and heading into the bathroom. They didn’t wait for the water to warm before stripping and stepping beneath the brisk stream.
The cool water settled the burning beneath their skin—but only just barely. Much to Sloan’s dismay, it also did nothing to soothe the ache between their legs. It was almost embarrassing, having an unrelenting boner for no reason like they were in school again.
They sighed, squeezing some coconut scented body wash into their hand and slicking across their cock. They didn’t bother to change the water back to warm, instead opting to let the frigid stream drip down their back. The nice smelling soap felt much, much better than their own spit—but they could imagine a few things that would feel even better.
Like your pretty lips wrapped around their tip, those kind eyes of yours pleading at them to cum in your mouth and—Sloan moaned, fingers clenching around their hard length. Just the thought of you touching them, or them touching you, was enough to have Sloan gasping and furiously jerking their cock.
Drops of soap flew away from their palm with every stroke, splattering the tile of the shower in front of them. God, wouldn’t they love to do that to you. What they wouldn’t give to do that to you. To have you lay down in front of them, completely at their mercy while they fucked you relentlessly and left you covered in their cum.
Their cock twitched, and then they were cumming. Wave after wave of hot cum burst out, coating the tile in front of them before being washed away by the water. Hard, shaking breaths wracked their chest as their senses returned to them and they could once again feel the cool water against their tanned skin.
As they looked at the cum mixing with the water down the drain, all they could think was ‘what a waste.’
It only took ten minutes after their shower for the tingling in their cock to become unbearable again. The heat had returned almost immediately—and with a vengeance—but they’d managed to ignore the tenderness between their legs for only ten minutes.
Sloan was glad they didn’t bother putting their clothes back on as they settled into their bed and grasped their shaft once more. Cumming once or twice a day was normal for them, but this was something else entirely. Something had to be wrong.
Sloan pushed away their fears and started once again stroking their dick, leftover water and precum acting as a lubricant for their hand to easily slide around. They closed their eyes, and let themself think of you once more.
How their cum would look running down your thighs, or splattered on your back. How nice your hands would feel gripping their cock, how you’d just beg them to fuck you.
Sweat dripped down their chest, wetting their tummy and the dark hair at the base of their cock. How long had they been jerking off this time? They risked a teary eyed glance at the screen of their phone—had it really been almost twenty minutes since they laid down in bed?
Twenty minutes and they were no closer to coming, but their dick was growing uncomfortably hard. A sigh passed through their lips. Their hand wasn’t enough, they needed something more, something hotter.
Their mind went to you, pleasure hazed thoughts wondering if they called you, would you come? Would you help them? Before they could think it through, their fingers were dancing across the screen. Just the sight of the tiny contact picture of you at the top of their screen had them squeezing tighter, thick drips of pre cum rolling down their tip.
Sloan lets themself fall back into bed, their mind dancing away to thoughts of you sinking down on their cock. They roll their head to the side, their eyes catching sight of the bag they’d carelessly tossed in the corner just before their shower.
Could the statue have done this? There were myths surrounding it, sure, but this? The thought was preposterous a week ago. Now though, with their insatiable lust, the thought doesn’t seem so crazy to Sloan.
Shit. They shouldn’t drag you into this. If it really is the statue, they don’t want to expose you to this. They reach for their phone to ask you not to come, to send you away, but just as their palm reaches the cold metal, the front door clicks open.
“Sloan?” You call, peaking your head in the front door. As soon as you’d gotten their message, you’d left your house. You’re talking more to yourself than them at this point, tiptoeing through the dark of their home. “I used the spare key you gave me to get in…are you here?”
Sloan bit their lip at the sound of your voice, risking a glance to the bag that contained the statue. Maybe inviting you here wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
“In here!” they call. Their voice is raspy, dripping with the need radiating from their core.
You follow the sound of their voice to the closed door of their bedroom, warm light leaking out from the cracks. It’s Sloan, and they don’t sound like they’re in danger, but something about their voice…
You push open the door. It takes two seconds for you to scan the room, two seconds for your eyes to fall on Sloan—sweaty, writhing and desperately jerking their cock in bed—and two seconds for you to turn away, covering your eyes.
“Shit,” you gasp. “I–I didn’t mean to walk in on you.”
But it’s strange. They called you here to help them, they knew you were going to come into their room—was this what they needed your help with? You couldn’t help but clench your legs at the thought, a heat rushing to your core.
Sloan’s voice cut through the darkness of your hand. “I-it’s okay,” they say. “You can look.”
You slowly peel your hand away from your eyes. Though they covered themself with a blanket, you could still see the glistening skin of their chest, and the up-down motion of their hand beneath the fabric.
Sloan knows it’s shameless of them to keep stroking their cock while talking to you, while you’re right there watching—but they can’t stop. Now that you’re here in front of them, the pressure’s increased tenfold.
You squint. “What’s going on?”
“I found that statue.” They keep jerking off.
“And?”
“The rumors about it were true.”
“Fuck,” you curse.
When they’d been telling you about the myths behind the statue, you’d both laughed it off, stealing wanton glances at each other as you did. They’d assured you it wasn’t possible, that there was no scientific reason a statue would bear unto its users an insatiable appetite for sex.
Seeing them now, though, all sweaty and desperate, has you thinking they were wrong.
“Sloan,” you say calmly, stepping in the room and gently shutting the door behind you, “what can I do to help?”
They bite your lip, and it’s just now that you notice their eyes are almost completely black in lust. A shiver runs up your spine.
They pull back the blanket. “Touch me,” they swallow. “Please.”
You glance at their thick, throbbing cock dripping in precum. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, wrapped up in the worst possible way. It wouldn’t be right—they’re clearly not thinking straight.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Sloan’s not sure whether it’s the statue, or their frustration, or some terrible combination of the two that prompts them to say, “oh don’t tell me you haven’t been wanting me to fuck you for months.”
Their brazenness sends another wave of heat to your core, your underwear suddenly feeling wetter than usual. “Sloan,” you say carefully.
“If you’re worried about consent,” they rasp. “I want it. All the time. For months, too. I think about it nonstop.”
Their words ease your nerves, and you find yourself approaching their bedside. Your eyes stayed glued to their cock and the hand furiously stroking it. “What do you think about?”
They watch you, dedicating each pump of their length to you. “I think about you while I fuck myself. I think about—about fucking you, and having you bounce on my cock and—god.”
You sink down on the bed next to them, wrapping your hand around the one rubbing their dick. “Let me.”
They slide their hand away, letting you take over. Already, your hand feels a million times better than theirs ever did, the ache in their core finally beginning to relent. They lay their head back, watching your hand glide across their sticky skin.
They suck in a breath. “Fuck,” they look at you through their lashes. “Use your mouth.”
You’re taken aback by their command. Their cock looks so inviting, dripping wet and throbbing in your palm. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever had which only makes you want it more.
You look them in the eyes while you lick a bead of precum away from the tip. Sloan shivers, wrapping a hand in your hair and pulling you down. You gasp as you take their cock into your mouth, wrapping your lips around it. It’s salty, a mix of sweat and precum, with a strange undertone of coconut—but it’s just how you imagined it.
Your jaw strains to take them into your mouth, their tip hitting the back of your throat after only a few seconds. You gag slightly, but Sloan only pushes your hand down further, groaning at the warmth of your mouth. This was exactly what they needed.
As soon as you start to see black spots, they pull you off. A strand of drool connects your lips to their length, dripping and coating your chin. They hum at the sight of you, so filthy already.
“Do you like how it tastes?”
You’re so flustered, so bewildered by the situation that you can only nod, clenching the base of their cock. You put your lips back on their tip and eagerly slide down for more. Their calloused fingers still tug at your hair, using the strands like reins to push and pull you how they see fit.
Sloan watches you intently the whole time, admiring the spit that coats your mouth and the way your throat bulges when they pull you a certain way. They’ve dreamt about fucking you for months now, but none of their wildest dreams could ever compare to this.
Despite the way your eyes water, Sloan pulls you down further. You look so fucking cute choking on their thick cock—they can’t help it. When you finally slap a hand against their thigh, they let go of your head and watch you gasp for air.
“Get on your knees,” they command.
You can only nod, not trusting your voice with the way your throat burns. The dominance in them only makes you wetter, a noticeable throbbing rushing through your clit. You’re all too eager to settle on your knees at their bedside.
They cup your chin, swiping their thumb across your lips to smear your drool and their pre across them. “So cute,” they murmur.
You lean back in to take their cock once more, but they tsk at you. Just as you tilt your head in confusion, you watch as Sloan grips their cock and rubs the messy, wet tip across your mouth. They smear it all across your face, making a mess all over your cheeks and nose.
A whine slips from your lips before you can stop it, but Sloan only laughs at it and finally lets their cock slap against your mouth. You open wide and take them once more, rolling your tongue over their length.
“So eager,” they tease, their fingers resuming their position in your hair, “if I’d known you’d be such a slut for me, I would’ve fucked you months ago.”
Sloan watches the shame glimmer in your eyes, followed by pure pleasure, and doesn’t miss the way you rock your hips against the floor.
It only takes a few minutes of you on your knees before they’re coming, pushing your head down so you have no choice but to swallow their cum. Your eyes shoot wide as the hot cum spills in your mouth, pulling back from their cock and opening your mouth so they can see it.
“Good girl,” they purr. “Now swallow.”
You nod and obey without a second thought, licking their cock a few more times after to clean up the excess. “Sloan,” you say quietly, your voice raspy from the way they just fucked your throat.
“Hm?”
“Do you have condoms?”
They tap the nightstand that you’re sitting next to. “You wanna fuck me?”
You pass them the condom, eagerly waiting as they lay back in bed and roll it over their cock. Though they’re slow to put it on, you don’t miss the way their hands shake in anticipation.
Sloan watches you the whole time as you strip, discarding your clothes as quickly as you can. You climb onto the bed and straddle their waist, a knee on either side of their hips. Their hands clench your waist tightly, fingertips digging in hard enough to bruise.
Usually Sloan would be happy to let you adjust, but with the warmth of your pussy right there, they can’t wait any longer. Using your hips as leverage, they thrust up into you, the tip of their cock bottoming out against your cervix.
You cry out, burying your head against their sticky chest. “Sloan,” you whine.
“Sorry,” they pant, but continue thrusting into you.
You relax into them, slamming your hips into theirs to meet their rhythm. It’s painful at first, both the stretch of their cock and how deep it reaches—but it’s amazing, too.
Sloan barely thinks as they pound in and out of you, using your own body weight as leverage to get their cock deeper and deeper with each thrust. Your whines are like music to their ears, complemented by the rhythm of matching groans they loose every time their cock brushes your cervix.
You cum so hard you swear you go blind for a second. Everything is hot, your vision goes white, and all you can focus on is the way your cunt is gushing around their cock, juices coating their thighs. You go limp on their chest for a minute, letting them fuck you like a toy while you recover.
Sloan’s own orgasm isn’t far behind, their cock twitching as they spill into the condom—though they’d much rather spill into you. They almost draw blood with how tightly their nails dig into your sides, and the only word they seem to remember is your name.
Even though they’re unbearably hot and their cock is so sensitive it hurts, they still need more.
“Can I keep going? Tell me I can keep going.”
You’re exhausted from the brutal pace they’ve set, but their cock fills you so well and they sound so desperate, you have no choice but to say yes. Upon your agreement, Sloan is flipping you onto the mattress beneath them and bending your legs to your chest.
They can get deeper like this, and Sloan knows it too. They start their pace off slower this time, trying to give you time to recover before their own need takes over. They hold your hands, pinning them above your head while they fuck you.
Their eyes lock with yours as they increase the pace, the tip of their cock hitting that spot inside of you perfectly every time. There are tears in your eyes from the pleasure, but it only makes them harder.
“Too deep,” you whine, squeezing their hands with as much strength as you can muster.
“You don’t love having me fill you up?” They mumble into your ear, “if I can’t stuff you with my cum, I’ll fill you with my cock.”
You gasp and squeeze your eyes shut, their dirty words sending you over the edge. You try to clench your knees together but Sloan’s body is in the way. They fuck you through your orgasm, squeezing your hands back with every bit of pressure you squeeze theirs with.
“That’s it,” though their words are soft, they punctuate each one with a thrust, “cum on my cock.”
They slide their hands down your body, resting on your hips once more. Their thrusts start to get sloppy, and you know they can’t last much longer like this. You reach up, desperate for something—anything—to ground yourself, your fingers coming in contact with their hair.
Sloan whines and cums in one sloppy motion, resting their head on your neck while they lazily thrust through their high. Soft groans and whines vibrate against your collarbone.
It takes a minute for them to collect their strength again, pulling their cock out of you. You look at them through tear blurred vision, eyes widening at the cum soaked condom dripping into the wild tangle of hair at the base of their length. There’s a ring of white around their cock from it all, and the only thought crossing your mind is how badly you want to lick it off.
Sloan can’t decide whether to admire the sheer amount of cum filling the condom, or be disappointed that they weren’t able to fuck it into you instead. They pull it off of their cock and toss it onto the floor—it’ll be a pain to clean later, but they don’t care. They reach into their nightstand for another one, but your hand wraps around their wrist first.
“You’re still hard?”
As if in reply, their cock twitches against your leg. Though the searing heat has finally begun to fade, the pure need coursing through their veins has not.
“You’re done already?” They counter.
“N-no,” you say quickly, though your pussy feels unbearably sensitive in the cold room. “But you don’t need to use that.”
They look down at the purple wrapper in their hand, then back up at you. Their eyes practically glitter in anticipation. “Raw?”
You nod shyly, reaching out your arms to beckon them back to you. You’ll never be able to match their insatiable pace—you know that—but you told them you’d help, even if it means letting them use you like a fleshlight.
They plant a kiss to the base of your throat, a devilish twinkle in the dark of their eyes. “Roll onto your knees.”
With their help, you roll onto your stomach and pull your knees up, arching your back to give them access to your dripping cunt. Too tired to keep your chest up, you rest your cheek against the single pillow in their bed and let yourself relax.
Sloan’s hands retrace the marks they left on your lips earlier, positioning you perfectly to line up with their cock. They land a harsh slap to your cunt with the head of their cock and slip it in all at once, relishing in the gasp that leaves your lips.
They rock their hips into yours, reaching up to tangle a hand in your hair. With one hand gripping your hips and another in your hair, they piston into you. You bite your lip to try and cover the onslaught of moans they fuck out of you and pray that Sloan doesn’t have neighbors—although at this point, they’ve probably heard enough.
“Feels even better raw,” they groan, balls slapping against your clit with a particularly brutal thrust. “S’like it was made for me.”
The burning in the pit of your stomach grows at their dirty words, your pussy utterly gushing around their length. Without the condom, you can feel the desperate throbbing of their cock, feel every twitch of their tip when they bottom out inside of you. They reach everywhere inside you, rubbing places you didn’t even know you had.
Waves of pleasure roll over you, each more intense after the last. Your pussy flutters around Sloan’s cock, but their pace doesn’t slow. They keep slamming into you, lewd slapping noises loud enough to cover your desperate moans. They tug your hair hard, pulling you closer, and roll their hips against yours.
Their cockhead brushes your cervix and your eyes roll back in the sharp pleasure that travels through your pussy. Drool leaks from the side of your mouth and your moans transform from fully formed words to stupid sounding babbles.
Sloan releases your hair from their grip and moves their hand to massage your ass. “Sounds so cute when you whine,” they coo breathily.
Your senses all come flooding back to you when you feel the first spurt of their hot cum inside of you. Your tummy flutters with butterflies, your pussy contracts, and you cum with them. Both of you writhe in bed against each other, Sloan’s desperate, near primal pants like music to your ears.
“Fuck,” you groan as you collapse into the bed.
They keep their cock inside of you, shallowly thrusting their cum back in. “Please don’t stop,” they whine. “Please, I-I need more. Please.”
Your whole body burns, your pussy is so sensitive you’re not sure you’d even be able to cum again. “Sloan,” you sigh, looking back at them.
“Please. Please let me keep using you. Please. You don’t even have to do anything but please let me use this pussy,” they pinch your clit in emphasis. “Please.”
“Well, with begging like that,” you joke.
Sloan wastes no time slamming their cock back inside of you, and though you can hardly feel the harsh slapping motion, you can tell their pace has slowed. You lay there, sweaty and hot and with their cum dripping out and being fucked back in.
Sloan murmurs praises to you while they thrust, their mind half gone from how fucking horny they are. They can see cum dripping down your pussy, down your thighs and it’s so filthy and it’s so hot and all they want is more. They pound into you, chasing that final high they may or may not get, desperately gripping your sensitive skin until there’s marks.
Finally, they cum again, their hot cum gushing until you’re so full it starts to burst from the seams between your pussy and their cock. Sloan watches it leak out in a trance, as if in disbelief that not only did they fuck you, they also just fucked you raw.
The heat has completely faded from their body, and as they pull out from your cunt and watch the cum drip, their cock finally starts to soften. “Are you okay?”
You manage a weak thumbs up from where you lay in the bed.
Just as they go to put on their pants, their cock twitches again, and the heat comes rushing back. Sloan sighs, looking at you guiltily, “think you can do a round 2?”
overwatch masterlist | masterlist
(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)
In which the Moon Knight alter system presents a unique opportunity to settle the nature versus nurture debate, once and for all...
Steven Grant/Marc Spector/Jake Lockley x afab!psychologist!reader
RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni)
WARNINGS: SMUT (specific warnings in each chapter), questionable ethics/scientific practices, discussion of mental health, psychoanalysis, extensive descriptions of DID, fetishization of mental disorders (DID)
NOTES: this fic is really, really morally ambiguous and ireally honestly don't feel great about it. in real life, the contents of this story would be considered extremely unethical, deceptive, manipulative, and there are some serious conflicts of interest. that being said, as someone who is passionate about psychology, i have been wanting to write this for quite some time. if this might be triggering to you, or you feel uncomfortable with the sort of scientific gray area this presents, please don't read it.
DISCLAIMER: although i’m incredibly knowledgeable about psychology, i am NOT a professional. all psychoanalyses made throughout the course of this storyline are entirely my own, based on my own interpretations of the characters. in a similar vein, i am also not an expert on DID specifically (although i am well-read on mental disorders and diagnoses), so i apologize for any incorrect terminology or misrepresentation. don’t hesitate to call me out if i say something wrong!
Summary: What happens when an emotionally unavailable Marc and a date-vise very inexperienced Steven finds out that their badass third alter is hiding a lovely wifey from them?
Warnings: summary is way off, everybody is a slut in this. Sprinkled some daddy kink on Jake oops (it’s like barely there), wife kink with all three of them, other warnings that come with smut fics like p in v, oral etc etc, dirty talk...
Words: ~9500 (i'm so sorry)
A/N: I always wanted to write a fic in which you are with Jake first and the others only meet you later gator 🐊 the hidden gf/wife trope is kinda hot to me 🫣 and once again, this is so not how I originally planned this fic, but it’s funnier so 🤷♀️
You were not normal. Totally nuts probably. You were the silly, naive female lead in the movie where she ignores every major red flag in the guy who started flirting with her, and said yes when he asked her out on a date. Then said yes again. And again. And again.
But Jake Lockley wasn’t like that. Men with red flags don’t point out that they have red flags.
And Jake was honest with you from the beginning. Okay, not exactly from the beginning, but from probably the fourth date.
He said he had two alters. He’s sharing his body with two other men. That’s why sometimes you don’t hear about him for days.
He could be lying. He could have a family and maybe you are just the sidechick.
But you decided to trust him. He was nothing but a gentleman so far. He brought you flowers. He picked you up from work when he was able to. Took you out on dates when he had the body. Held the doors open for you. Who wouldn’t fall for all of this?
You never met a man like him and you thought that there must be a catch. And there was, but you decided that it was worth it.
He said the system that he was a part of was delicate. In time, he will introduce you to his alters, when all of you are ready. But truth be told, you met Jake way before Marc and Steven did.
Jake had insecurities when it came to his existence and he never really knew where he belonged in the big scary world. But you made him feel real, made him feel connected. You were a place he could come home to and your arms were the blanket that shielded him from everything he wasn’t ready to face yet.
You were patient, and caring, you were his friend and his lover. Even when he had doubts about himself he never had doubts about you.
So when he dropped down on one knee in front of you in a fancy restaurant while you celebrated your one year anniversary, it felt right.
Your yes was the most confident answer he ever had to a question.
“We probably won’t be able to go on a long honeymoon.” - Jake admitted in a whisper after he put the ring on your finger and pulled you in for a deep kiss, then a warm hug.
“Everyday with you feels like honeymoon to me.” - you smiled warmly at him and pulled back a little to kiss him again.
“I love you. I love you, carino. I wish I could put it into words how much I love you.”
You smiled slyly and ran your forefinger softly across his jawline.
“Maybe if you’re that bad with words, you could show me after dinner.”
Jake chuckled and buried his face into your neck as he lifted you up to spin you around once.
“I’ll be more than happy to, muneca.”
-----
Six months later you got married. You didn’t want a big ceremony, and Jake didn’t really have a family, so it was only yours and your closest friends. You celebrated in a very elegant hotel’s restaurant and had an amazing party on the rooftop. Everything was perfect and you never felt happier.
Jake of course didn’t want to rob you of a real honeymoon. He let Marc and Steven have the body for most of the time for weeks after the wedding and he only visited you during the nights when the other two were asleep. He was back in their flat by the morning so his headmates won’t suspect anything.
In the meantime, he mentally prepared himself to take the body for five days straight.
Marc and Steven will be confused as hell once he lets them front again, but Jake deserved this, you deserved this, so it will happen and even you couldn’t change his mind when you asked him if it was a good idea and wanted to convince him that a silly honeymoon wasn’t as important as his mental health.
But it was for his mental health.
He was a husband now and his duty was to make his wife happy and keep her satisfied.
So that’s what he did.
He never took so many pictures in his entire life than when he was on the Canary Islands with you. You were radiating with happiness the entire time and your joy was infectious. When you were happy Jake was happy and taking you here was worth every penny. Even if he was stressing himself out every night, fearing his control of the body would slip out his hands during the nights. But if Marc managed to control Steven during his sleep, Jake will be able to do it too. He practiced it in the past, and he will do everything in his power to keep the reins.
Your pout was cute when you arrived back in New York so he promised you he will take you on a vacation somewhere nice every year. He didn’t miss your grateful, but concerned look as you caressed his cheek with your thumbs, gently brushing them over the dark circles under his eyes.
“Take as much rest as you need, Jake, okay? This was the most wonderful week of my life, so thank you.” - you pulled him in for a kiss. - “You’re taking such good care of me. But I want you to take care of yourself too, alright?”
He nodded then he touched his forehead against yours.
“I just wish I didn’t have to leave you so many times.”
“You are not leaving me, baby. You’re just taking small breaks… from dealing with my ass.” - you joked, even if in reality he was dealing with his alters’.
“Mi amor, your ass is a burden I will gladly carry.” - he murmured against your lips as he squeezed your asscheeks playfully.
-----
Jake knew he had to reveal himself to Marc and Steven now. He was married now and if he wanted to give you a somewhat normal life, his alters had to at least know about your existence.
The boys took his introduction quite well. Better than he expected. They were suspicious of a third alter lurking in the body, so when Jake revealed himself they were more relieved than upset.
But Jake didn't know what he got himself into. If he was afraid of the hierarchy of the system before, that was nothing compared to the way his headmates treated him now.
It was everybody’s worst nightmare.
He technically became the youngest sibling.
“Let’s order a pizza.”
‘We Brits always get bullied for our terrible food choices and here you are Marc, always wanting to eat a bloody pizza.’
‘How about burritos?’ - Jake suggested.
“hOw AbOuT bUrRiToS? How about you let the grown men decide?” - Marc said, grabbing his phone to open a food app.
Jake growled annoyed.
‘I’m technically as old as Steven.’
‘Nah, mate, I’m like 5 minutes older than you.’
‘Me estás bromeando?! You two act like fucking 5 years olds I swear to god.’
“Aww, look at who’s throwing a hissy fit.” - Marc taunted.
‘I’m not!’
‘You are.’
‘Am not!”
“You are.”
Jake had enough and forced himself to the front.
“Ehehehe.”
‘Hey what the fuck? We don’t do that here!’ - Marc yelled.
“Gonna cry?” - Jake asked as he searched for the place that sells the best burritos in town.
‘I don’t get any respect in this body.’
‘Maybe if you wouldn’t act like you’re the boss of this body.’ - Steven said annoyed.
‘I AM the boss of this body! I’m the original!’
“What are you trying to say? We’re just cheap copies of you?”
‘Duh! Lamer and less handsome!’
‘Jake? Order a protein shake for the gymbruv, will you? Maybe he’ll calm down.’
‘You take his side, Steven? You’re teaming up against me? Little shits, both of you.’
“Don’t worry hermano, I order a Hawaiian pizza for you.”
‘EWWW!’
-----
Introducing you next took a little bit more time. Jake was afraid of two things: the boys won’t like you. Or the boys will like you too much.
You were his wife. If Marc and/or Steven don’t like you, Jake of course won’t divorce you. But what if they want to date too? What if you saw his body walking on the street with another person hand in hand?
He didn’t think this through. You should’ve met the others before he proposed to you. But you made him so happy and you said yes so eagerly. It was so perfect. But what if…?
“Talk to me, Lockley.” - you said when you saw him start spiraling.
He shook his head, nervously, but then looked up at you from the couch.
“I love you, you know that right?”
“I know. And I love you too.”
“But what if they don’t? What if they wanna see someone else?”
“Well, that someone else has to get through me first. I was here first. If Marc or Steven wanna date someone else I respect that. But they have to respect that you have someone for yourself too.” - you climbed in Jake’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. - “And you can be sure as hell that I ain’t going nowhere.”
“Muneca…” - Jake growled as he pulled you closer then kissed you. - “You’re hot when you’re possessive.”
“What about you? What if I meet them and they like me?”
“I’m gonna make sure they remember that you were my wife first.” - he kissed you deeply, licking into your mouth greedily then sucking on your lips as he pulled away.
“Papi… you’re hot when you’re possessive.”
-----
“Really?!” - you asked excited, eyes shining brightly.
Jake said that he still wasn’t quite ready for you to meet the guys, but he was ready to compromise. He told you where Steven worked so you could take a look at him, and observe him, so when you meet him officially, you won’t be meeting a total stranger. If you feel positive about the meeting you can do the same with Marc.
But seeing your radiating smile he knew the only thing he had to worry about is his headmates actually wanting you for themselves. If Jake can’t resist you, there’s no way the other two can. They’re gonna be all over you and Jake will have to fight for every second of alone time with you.
This was confirmed after Steven couldn’t shut the fuck about a woman he saw in his group as he was guiding the people through the museum. According to him she is the prettiest girl he had ever seen and her smile brightened his day. Unfortunately, he saw a wedding ring on her finger so he decided against going over to her to talk, before he made a fool out of himself.
‘You should’ve gone for it, buddy. Maybe the ring wouldn’t have stopped her.’
‘Andate a la concha de tu madre!’ - Jake hissed out of reflex.
‘Huh?’
Jake froze. He had to remind himself that while Marc was talking about you, he didn’t know he was talking about you.
‘I mean… maybe you watch too much porn, hombre. Not every married person is out there to cheat.’
‘And how would you know that?’
‘I uh… read it.’
‘Uhuh. Okay. Well, you can never know. Maybe she is for the streets.’
‘Vete a la mierda!’
‘Seriously, Jake, what the fuck?’
-----
After having to endure Steven’s daydreams about you - which Jake should take as a compliment, really, but at the same time he is still having fantasies about doing the dirty with his wife - Jake was a bit more reluctant to tell you where Marc worked as a security guard.
“Ooohhh, are you afraid he can steal me from you?” - you teased.
Jake snorted.
“Yeah, right. Emotionally unavailable is just your type.”
“Maybe I like challenges.”
“Maybe Marc likes to fuck and dip.”
“Maybe he just needs a proper wifey who keeps him satisfied.”
“Maybe my proper wifey should keep me satisfied.” - he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him as you giggled.
“Maybe if my hubby gives me the address I need, I’ll let him do nasty things to me.”
“Maybe if my wife let me do nasty things to her, I’ll give her the address she needs.”
You pouted, but kissed him.
“You’re sexy when you don’t give in so easily.” - you murmured against his lips as your hands slid down his torso to unbuckle his belt.
“You’re sexy when you do.” - he smirked, watching as you sank down to your knees.
-----
“I’m telling you, guys. She was eyeing me the whole time.” - Marc said between bites as he was eating his lunch at their flat.
‘Did you talk to her?’ - Jake asked. He knew his headmate didn’t, you already spoke to him about what happened when you went to the coffee shop near Marc’s workplace.
“Didn’t have the chance. She was in the other line, and there were quite a lot of people between us. But she had a wedding band too, like Steven’s girl.”
‘Maybe she was staring at you, because she thought you were me and she recognized us from the museum.’
“What did she look like?”
Steven gave a description about your appearance.
Marc gulped down the food.
“That’s her.”
Steven smiled brightly and hopefully.
“She’s married, buddy.” - Marc reminded him.
‘And since when do you care about that?’ - Jake asked with an eye roll.
“Steven does.” - he pointed to their headmate in a nearby mirror’s reflection.
Steven had a sad pout on his face. His shoulders sagged and he fiddled with his fingers, a habit he did unconsciously when he was anxious or sad.
‘I don’t know how long I can go like this.’ - he admitted.
Jake and Marc looked at him concerned.
“Like what?”
‘Without a girlfriend.’
Jake looked at Marc and the latter sighed.
“Listen, buddy. I’m gonna be honest with you. I don’t think there is someone out there for us. I mean… look at us. We’re a package deal.”
‘We will never know if we don’t try!’ - Steven tried to reason.
“What if I don’t wanna try?”
‘Don’t tell me you don’t want someone here who waits for us when we come home after work. Or don’t want someone to lay down next to in the evenings. Or wake up next to in the mornings. Or hold their hand while we walk? Cuddle while we watch the telly?’
“I never said I don’t want that, Steven. I’m saying there’s a thin chance we ever get to experience that.”
‘Give me the body.’
Marc narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but let Steven have the control.
He pulled out his phone, opened the app store and searched for Tinder.
Jake’s eyes widened.
‘What are you doing?’
“Getting us a date.”
‘Whoah, okay, let’s wait a minute, you didn't even ask me…’
“Why? You don’t want a girlfriend?”
‘I uh… I uh…’
‘Jake is right. We have to talk about this first. You wanna put everything on our profile? Like… everything?’ - Marc asked, gesturing to the three of them.
“Why not? That way only the ones who are really interested will message us.”
‘I’m not sure about this…’ - Marc admitted.
“Well, I am.” - Steven said, hitting download. - “We’re 38 years old. Sorry that I’m trying to be happy. I know being single works for you, but it doesn’t work for me. And you’re not alone in this body.”
‘Steven. Don’t open that app.’ - Jake warned.
Steven opened it.
‘Delete it. I’m serious!’ - Jake said more aggressively.
“Sorry! I can’t hear you! I’m too busy setting up our profile!” - Steven said, typing fast.
Jake growled, and forced himself to the front. Steven’s eyes rolled back and suddenly he was locked inside.
Jake deleted it.
‘What the fuck, mate?!’
“We don’t need a fucking girlfriend!” - Jake yelled, frustrated.
‘WHY?!’
“Because we’re already married!”
The boys froze.
Then Marc shook his head.
‘I’m sorry, can you repeat that? I think I heard you say that we’re married.’
Jake looked at the reflections in the mirror with a serious look.
“I am.”
Marc started laughing in disbelief. Steven was still frozen with a shocked look.
‘And when did this happen?’
“Three months ago. I proposed to her six months before that. On our one year anniversary.”
Marc and Steven’s jaws dropped. That was way before they even met Jake.
“I met her in a restaurant. She owns it. She sometimes helps the staff when it’s a busy shift. That’s how I met her. She waited my table a few times. I was lonely and she was always so nice. Listened to me when I thought I had no one to talk to. And… one day I asked her out. I still don’t know how I got the courage. But… she said yes and the rest is history.”
They boys remained silent for a long time.
‘Wow…’ - was all that Marc could say.
A smile slowly appeared on Steven’s face.
‘A… wife? You’re married? We’re married?’
“I’m married.”
‘We have a wife?’
“I have a wife.”
‘Yeah… until you tell her about us. Good luck with th-’
“She already knows about both of you.” - Jake cut Marc off.
The boys froze again.
“And you both already met her, actually.”
‘We did? WHEN?!’ - Steven asked, trying to remember.
Jake walked to the bedroom, opened his drawer and pulled out a little box. He opened it and Marc and Steven’s eyes widened as Jake put on his wedding ring. When Jake looked up into the mirror with a smirk, they realized.
‘IT’S THE WOMAN FROM THE MUSEUM AND THE COFFEE SHOP?! PLEASE TELL ME WE’RE MARRIED TO THE WOMAN FROM THE MUSEUM?!’ - Steven asked with an excited smile.
Jake chuckled.
“Sí. She’s my one and only.”
‘Wow… no wonder she eyefucked me.’ - Marc said.
“She didn't.” - Jake narrowed his eyes.
‘She licked her lips when she looked at the curve of my ass.’
Jake winced a bit.
“Well, yeah, okay, she does that.”
‘Wifey was hungry.’
“Don’t call her that.”
‘Why? She’s married to us.’
“To me. She’s married to me. She didn’t even talk to any of you.”
‘But she knows about us. Knows about the package deal. Meaning when she said yes to you, she also said yes to us.’ - Marc smirked.
‘He’s right Jake. Let us meet her.’
“Now wait a minute-”
‘No! I can’t believe you managed to hide her from us for so long!’ - Steven pointed a finger at him.
Jake huffed as he crossed his arms.
‘Orrr, you’re full of shit.’ - Marc accused.
“Que?”
‘Prove it that she’s our wife.’
Jake lifted his hand and pointed at his wedding ring with the other.
‘That’s just a ring. Show us a picture of her. Where she’s with you.’
Jake pulled out his phone, unlocked it, opened the gallery, then closed it immediately.
‘What?’
“Uhhh… maybe there are pictures I don’t wanna show you… yet.”
Marc and Steven looked at each other confused, then they realized. They started giggling.
‘Come on, buddy, she’s our wife, right? We’re gonna see everything sooner or later…’
“I don’t want to show you without her permission.”
‘He’s right, Marc. I don’t want to upset her.’
“Can you guys… not look for a sec? I'm gonna put them in a folder real quick, then I’ll show you the rest.”
‘Finnneee.’ - Marc sighed. - ‘Are there videos too?’
‘Marc!’ - Steven scolded him.
“Yep.” - Jake confirmed.
‘Cool.’ - Marc smirked.
Jake spent long minutes moving the pics and videos.
‘Jesus, you guys are that nasty?’
“What can I say? The camera loves her.”
Steven and Marc chuckled, then when Jake gave them the green light, they focused on the phone.
First he showed them some casual photos, from the time when you two started dating. Most of them were selfies you or Jake took, where you both were smiling to the camera. On some of them Jake was kissing your cheek or you acted like you wanna bite him.
On some of them you were alone, with Jake holding your hand. You were smiling warmly at the camera and your engagement ring was shining brightly in the elegant restaurant’s lights.
Then there were the wedding photos. All of them were taken by a professional and they were beautiful. Steven audibly marveled at your dress and the way you looked. He would be lying if he said seeing you and Jake - his body - together like this didn’t affect him. As a couple. As bride and groom. As wife and husband. It was everything he ever dreamed of. He was just sad he didn’t witness any of it.
Marc was very quiet, but Jake and Steven could tell he was laser focused on every detail - both on what was on the pictures and what Jake was telling them.
It felt surreal seeing himself like this. It wasn’t really him, but at the same time it was. He could see that Jake was tearing up as he watched you walk down the aisle and Marc wondered what he felt in those moments, what thoughts were racing inside his head. He wondered if he could ever experience them himself.
There were photos of the reception. Of you two cutting up the wedding cake and serving them to the guests, of your first dance and the party you had after.
“There are videos too, but they are on a pendrive. It’s in her flat.”
‘Do you think she’ll let us watch them?’ - Steven asked.
“Of course, Steven. I know I hid myself and her from you for a long time, but she knows a lot about you two. She cares about both of you just like I do.”
‘Why did you wait so much to reveal yourself to us?’ - Marc asked quietly. It was like he was afraid his voice would break if he spoke louder.
“I don’t know. I was afraid I guess. I saw you guys were very out of it when Steven learned about you. I didn’t want to cause a bigger mess. Then when you got comfortable with each other I didn’t want to fuck it up.”
‘You’re just as important, Jake. I hope you can see that now.’ - Marc said and Steven nodded along.
Jake smiled.
“I know. She’s the reason I wasn’t so lonely, though. It’s hard to connect with the world when you don’t know where you belong in it. But she helped me figure it out.”
‘I’m glad you had her.’ - Steven said.
Jake started fiddling with his phone and bit his lower lip repeatedly.
“You can too, you know.” - he finally said.
When neither of them reacted, he elaborated.
“We talked a lot about you guys. I obviously didn’t tell her everything about us. Like… what caused Marc’s DID and stuff. But she knows we’re a system and I told her about you both. What you’re like, what you do, what your hobbies are, favourtie food, you know, general stuff. And the reason you both saw her was because she wanted to meet you. I wanted to tell you about her then introduce her, but I wanted her to see you first. So when she meets you for the first time she won’t be meeting total strangers. We talked about your reactions too. That maybe you won’t like her or something. She’s okay with that. She says it’s okay if you start dating others. But she’s not gonna leave me. So if you do start dating someone else, she expects you to be honest with them and tell them about her and I. And I expect the same. I’m in love with her. I wouldn't have married her if I wasn't. So if someone has anything against her, they’re gone. I don’t care if you like that or not. She’s my wife. A random chick can’t come before her.”
‘That’s totally reasonable. I understand and respect it.’ - Steven said.
Marc was silent for a while before he spoke and Jake let him sort his thoughts out.
‘What if we like her, though?’
“I mean… we talked about that too. And she prefers that version.”
‘What about you?’
“Me too, obviously. I hate the thought of her having to watch you kiss someone else.”
‘What about you having to see her kiss us?’
“Guys, I know we like to annoy each other and give each other hell, but contrary to popular belief I love both of you. And I want you to be happy.”
Marc and Steven smiled, then their lips transformed into smirks.
‘Sooo, when can we meet her?’
-----
You were sitting on your couch, scrolling through Instagram reels with the TV on in the background on a late afternoon when you heard a knock on your door.
You smiled brightly when you saw through the peephole that it was Jake, holding a huge bouquet of red roses.
“Oohh, what did I do to deserve this?”
“Hello!” - he waved at you and before he could answer you grabbed him by his collar and pulled him inside, shutting the door loudly.
“You’re the best husband, you know that?” - you said just before you kissed him.
You felt him jump, but you ignored it and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer.
As your breasts pushed up against his chest, your fingers got lost in the hair on the back of his head, and you moaned into the kiss, you felt him melt against you and one of his arms wrap around your waist to keep you close.
‘Damn, does she greet you like this everytime?’ - Marc asked.
‘Mostly. When I don’t piss her off with my bullshit.’ - Jake grinned.
‘I can’t wait to see her face when she realizes that her tongue is down Steven’s throat and not yours.’
Jake laughed and it was so loud in Steven’s head that he came to his senses and pulled away.
He had a silly smile on his face while his expression looked like he was hypnotized.
You were grinning wickedly and your hands started caressing his chest.
“Why didn’t you use your keys, silly? Did you lose them? Want me to help you find them?” - you purred as one of your hands slid over his abs then to the pocket of his pants, then…
Steven quickly grabbed your wrist with a breathy chuckle.
“Whoa there, love. Let’s slow down a little, yeah?”
You looked at him silly when you heard his accent, then your eyes widened.
“Oh my God!” - you gasped.
‘There it is.’ - Marc smirked.
‘I wish we had this on camera.’
“Nice to meet you!” - Steven said dreamily and licked his lips, his eyes moving to yours.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I thought you were my husband!”
“Technically I am.” - he grinned, lifting his hand up. The wedding ring was shining proudly on his finger.
You giggled awkwardly as you stepped back and took the flowers from him.
“Well, uh… thank you for the roses.”
“You’re welcome, love. I’m gonna make sure to buy you more seeing how much you like them.”
You laughed embarrassed again as you walked to the kitchen and started filling a vase with water.
“So, uh… you’re Steven, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Nice to finally meet you.” - you smiled at him, trying to ignore the fact that one minute ago you were kissing him. Deeply. With tongue. And moaning against him like a whore.
Steven looked at your outstretched hand with a frown.
Yeah, there’s no way he’s gonna greet his wife with a handshake.
He grabbed it to pull you closer and he hugged you tightly. He felt you tense up for a second, but then he sighed relieved when he felt you relax against him and hug him strongly.
When he pulled away after a few seconds, he had a giddy smile on his face again.
“Would you go on a date with me?”
Your eyes widened, and you laughed, surprised.
‘Someone’s impatient.’ - Marc commented.
“I mean… you don’t have to if you don’t wa-mmppfff”
You kissed Steven again. You’re gonna ask questions later.
-----
The date went well.
Steven took you out to a steakhouse right after you met him. He was so patient while he waited for you to get ready. He was a proper gentleman. Jake was too, but he liked to shittalk a lot. That earned him the punishment of his mouth being treated as a seat after. Now that you think about it, maybe he did that on purpose.
Steven was so much of a gentleman that it made you wanna dirty him up. He was so giddy and happy through the whole date. He told you about how Jake finally confessed that he had a wife. The thought of him being afraid of you seeing his face on Tinder made you laugh. Yeah, he knows you’d kick his ass.
You shouldn’t be thinking of riding Steven’s dick right after the first date, but you could see the way he was looking at you. With a mix of adoration, disbelief and barely contained lust.
So that’s how you ended up sitting in Steven’s lap on your bed, with him sucking on your tits and nipples, drooling all over them, while you were rubbing yourself on his hard cock, through your clothes.
The second you kissed him after walking in the apartment, you pushed hím against the door and kissed him deeply. You opened Pandora’s box apparently, because in that second he became shameless. He dragged your shirt over your head and yanked down your bra until your breasts were freed and he immediately attacked them with his mouth. You were sure he wanted to suck your soul out through your nipples, which was okay, because that’s what you’re gonna do later with his cock.
“Pretty, pretty wifey.” - he growled then licked your nipple and started dragging your pants down.
You wondered if Marc had a wife kink since Jake and Steven obviously did.
You got up from his lap to quickly get rid of your clothing and Steven did the same. When you wanted to climb on him again, you saw that his gaze zeroed down on your cunt. Suddenly he pulled one of your thighs over his shoulder and licked your slit, forcing his tongue between your wet lips and he groaned loudly when the tip of his tongue found your hole. He pushed it all the way inside, licking your walls and grabbing your asscheeks hard to pull you closer.
You moaned in surprise and pleasure, throwing your head back with a moan when his nose brushed against your clit.
“Fuck, Steven!”
Your fingers gripped his curls for stability, and you started moving your hips.
Steven lifted his chin, trying to open his jaw wider to make his tongue slip as deep as humanly possible. Your taste and scent were intoxicating and the way you clenched your cunt made his eyes roll back inside his head. He can’t wait to feel it with his cock. He replaced his tongue with one, two then three of his fingers while his mouth possessively sucked on your clit. He teased it with his tongue and he chuckled deeply when it caused you to cry out and pull on his hair so hard that it made goosebumps appear on his skin.
He didn't stop his assault on your pussy until you came all over his fingers and mouth, and he promised you could give him a blowjob next time when you slid down on your knees, but he yanked you up and made you straddle hím impatiently.
“If I don’t come in your pussy, I will die.” - he groaned as he helped you sink down on his cock. - “Fuuuck, love… that’s… fuck, that’s a good wifey, taking it all.”
“Oh, Steven…” - you pulled him in for a kiss and you started riding him slowly. - “You’re so deep, baby, just how I like it.”
“Is that right?” - he asked. One of his arms slid around your waist and the other was holding one of your breasts so he can suck on your nipple greedily, making you whine.
“Yeah… Shit, you’re a hungry one, aren't you?” - you chuckled, seeing how obsessed he was with your boobs.
He only nodded with a drunk expression as he switched to your other breast. He was steadily fucking up into you as you moved your hips back and forth and his tip was prodding that familiar spot only Jake was able to reach before.
When Steven heard you start whimpering he kissed his way up your chest and neck to your jaw, cheeks and mouth. Your nipples must've been sensitive after all the attention he was giving them.
“I’ve been thinking about this since the day I saw you in the museum.” - he admitted before he kissed you deeply.
He felt your pussy clench around him and he groaned, fucking up into you harder.
“I was always afraid that I'd never be able to have a girlfriend. Let alone a wife. With my sleeping problems. With my memory losses. With Marc being a part of me. Then Jake. And when I saw you I remember thinking how much I wished I had someone like you waiting for me at home.”
“Steven…” - you felt your eyes well up with tears, both from the pleasure and the thought of such a sweet man feeling lonely.
“And now here you are.” - his hands grabbed your hips hard, to thrust into you faster. - “Stepping out of my dreams.”
“If you only had known that I was ready to love you from the beginning.” - you whispered sincerely and saw his eyes soften as he let out a quiet gasp. He then shut his eyes tightly, pushed his face into your neck and started fucking into you wildly, cumming into you deeply.
Your own orgasm hit you and you threw your head back with a cry, grinding down on him as hard as you can.
You hugged his neck tightly as you both came down from your highs, and you felt his arms wrap around your waist just as strong.
“Thank you. Thank you.” - he panted softly.
“For what?” - you chuckled.
“For existing.”
You cupped his face to make him look up at you. There were tears in his eyes and you kissed both of his eyelids.
“In that case, thank you for existing too.”
-----
After cleaning up, you cuddled close to Steven and he smiled as you wrapped your arms around each other.
“I’ve never slept with someone like this.” - he confessed.
“You better get used to it.” - you kissed his nose. - “Fair warning though, I hog the blanket and I snore loudly, so I’m not the best person to experience this with for the first time.”
Steven laughed and pecked your cheek. He loved that finally he had someone he could do that to. Kiss them, hug them, touch them… love them.
“You are. It would be a bit boring if you were too perfect.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.” - you chuckled quietly and nuzzled his cheek as you closed your eyes. - “I snore when I’m on my back, so just roll me to my side and I’ll stop.”
“Noted.” - he grinned widely, then hummed. - “I don’t know if I snore.”
“You do. Well, Jake does. But it’s quiet. Cute. He told me I sound like a bear. With asthma. After it run a marathon. On a flower field. Which it’s allergic to.”
“Rude!”
“Right?!”
“Yes. I will defend your honor when I meet him.”
“Well, you never heard me snore.”
“Maybe he’s lying.”
“He made a video of me sleeping once. I don’t think I sounded like a bear.”
“See? I knew it.”
“It was more like an old tractor with an engine problem.”
Steven laughed out loud, but tried to muffle it by putting his hand in front of his mouth. You giggled too and felt yourself grin widely when he looked at you. He looked so happy, it made your heart feel full.
He kissed your lips lightly and moved closer to you as he hugged you again. You lifted one of your legs over his and he pushed his between yours so you could be as close as possible.
“I don’t know if I will be here in the morning. How did Jake manage to keep you a secret from us? Did he not sleep with you?”
“He usually left after I fell asleep. Then he told me he practiced how to keep control, so sometimes he stayed. Like on our honeymoon.”
Steven kissed you again, softly.
“You’ll always have one of us here from now on. You don’t have to wake up alone anymore. None of us have to.”
“I like the sound of that.”
-----
Just as Steven promised, you weren’t alone in the morning. But it wasn’t him who was with you.
You opened your eyes after a big yawn, then you turned your head to the side, and smiled when two warm brown orbs looked back at you.
“So I assume the date went well, hermosa.”
“Hello, husband.” - you grinned and rolled over to him to hug and kiss him.
Jake pulled you close then pushed you onto your back and kissed you in a possessive way.
“Does my little wife feel better now that she could finally fuck one of my brothers?”
You chuckled and wrapped your legs around his waist.
“A bit better, yeah.”
“Insatiable.” - he started grinding his hips against yours and you smiled wider when his erection poked your thigh.
“Maybe you should do something about it. You know the saying. Happy wife, happy life.” - you said in a sultry voice, reaching down and wrapping your hand around his cock.
“Nice way of putting how much of a needy slut you are.” - he growled as he grabbed your neck and forced you to look at him. - “I’m gonna remind you who you first belonged to.”
Jake pushed your hand away from his cock and while still holding you down by your neck with his other hand, he pushed himself on his knees.
“Open your legs.” - he ordered. - “Wider.”
You whined when you felt a shudder run through you at the sound of his voice. He moved his tip along your folds, teasing your hole and clit.
“Already getting wet. Always a needy mess. A hungry little whore.”
“Jake, please!”
“Begging already? I taught you better than that.” - he spat on your pussy and smeared it all over with his tip.
You moved your hips needily and Jake couldn't help but chuckle seeing how much you want his cock in you.
He slowly pushed inside and looked at your face, smirking when he saw your eyes roll back and a low moan escape your lips.
“That’s better, right? Daddy’s home.” - he murmured as he pulled out a little, then pushed back in, deeper.
“Missed you, daddy.” - you sighed, wrapping your legs around his waist strongly, urging him to go deeper.
He rolled his hips harder and you both moaned deeply when he bottomed out. He leaned down to kiss you.
“Are you sure, muneca? Looks like you had a lot of fun last night.” - he said, and licked the hickeys Steven left all over your breasts. - “Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Y…yes.”
“And you still missed me?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmm, show me how much.”
He pushed himself up suddenly and stopped thrusting.
When you looked at him confused he clarified.
“Fuck yourself on my cock.”
You licked your lips and put your feet on the mattress, then started moving your hips slowly. Jake watched as your pussy swallowed his cock and he growled deeply.
“Do you think you can cum like this?”
You nodded and started playing with your clit. Jake felt you get wetter and he had a hard time staying still, but he really enjoyed watching you like this. You were whining needily, but there was a determined look in your eyes. Sometimes you quickened the pace and then slowed down, sighing deeply, and Jake felt his hips start to move too, out of instinct.
“Fuuuuck…” - you moaned deeply and Jake chuckled, seeing how much you enjoyed yourself.
He saw you start to play with your clit faster and your eyes fluttered close.
“Wifey’s gonna cum.” - he growled. - “Go ahead, make a mess on my cock.” - he started thrusting into you hard and you cried out when the pleasure snapped suddenly and an intense orgasm washed over you. Jake followed only seconds later with loud moans and curses.
“Hmmm, good morning.” - he murmured against your neck, making you giggle.
“Good morning.” - you kissed his cheek. - “Gimme a few seconds and I make breakfast.” - you closed your eyes.
“I help you.” - he yawned.
“Okay.”
About two minutes later both of you fell asleep.
-----
A few more days have passed before you met Marc. While he was excited to meet you, he was also a bit anxious, afraid that maybe you won’t like him. But Jake and Steven were different too and yet you were always happy with whoever was fronting.
And it was easier that Jake already talked about him to you and that you knew about almost everything. He didn’t feel like he has to put on a false act like when he was on other first dates just to impress the women.
Jake came up with the “perfect date” (his words, but he also had a mysterious grin which Marc didn’t like) where Marc and you could get to know each other a little bit better. Marc instantly felt better when Jake said it’s gonna be at your flat (that you shared with Jake) and that it was just watching the upcoming NFL game. Marc liked football and apparently you too. He didn’t have to worry about not being able to find a topic you were both interested in.
Marc knocked on the door and this time when you opened it, you resisted the urge to jump their body and push your tongue down their throat. He bought you a big bouquet of pink roses and you giddily accepted it with a hug and a kiss to his cheek.
“Thank you. You guys spoil me.” - you beamed and Marc blushed.
Blushed!
You quickly put the bouquet into a vase and while Marc sat down on the couch he happily noticed that all of his favourite snacks were on the table along with his preferred beer.
He grinned widely.
“I’ll be right back, I’ll just change quickly!” - you hurried to the bedroom and when you passed him, you rubbed his shoulder warmly.
“Take your time.” - he looked at the coffee table again, pleased. - “Did Jake tell you what to buy?”
“Yeah! He even gave me a list! He really wants me to impress you.” - you answered from the bedroom, giggling nervously.
“You really don’t have to, sweetheart. You already have me hooked around your little… what in the actual fu-?!”
You grimaced seeing his reaction. You slowly approached the couch, but Marc pointed a finger at you.
“What the hell is that?”
“I’m so sorry!”
“This is a prank, right?”
“I’m afraid it’s not.”
“No, this can’t be real. Jake set this up.”
“No, this is me. I’m… I’m sorry.”
“Are you kidding me?”
You shook your head, still grimacing.
“I… I… please tell me this is a bad dream.”
You shook your head again.
“Jake married… Jake married… a fucking cheesehead?!” - Marc asked incredulously as he stared at your Green Bay Packers jersey.
“If it makes you feel better, I love Jake despite the fact that he lives with a little Chicago Bear in his head.”
Marc couldn't take his eyes off of your jersey. You were sure he imagined setting it on fire.
“I’ll kill him.”
“Hey-!”
“Not because of… that.” - Marc gestured to the shirt. - “I mean I’m not happy! - he added heatedly. - “But for this!” - he pointed to the table. - “I’m not gonna lie, I was hoping for a little action tonight, but Jake decided that our first date should start with traumatizing me with this info!”
You looked at him annoyed and folded your arms across your chest.
“A little action, huh? What do you take me for? A little slut you can trade among yourselves?”
Marc looked to the floor sheepishly.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting it, obviously. It’s just… you and Steven did it on your first date and…”
“I have dignity.”
“Clearly not since you’re wearing that!”
Your jaw dropped.
“I’m sorry! It was… the Bear inside me. It just slipped.”
“Fuck you and fuck your bear!”
“You know what? Screw you and your fucking cheese!”
“When I met Jake, him having DID wasn’t a deal breaker for me, but when he told me you’re a Bear fan I considered dumping him!”
“If I had known the woman he planned to marry was a smelly cheesehead, I would’ve hijacked the body on the wedding day and fled to TIJUANA!”
“Go ahead, WINNIE THE POOH!”
“Not before I file for divorce!”
“Go and marry CINDY BEAR!”
“If I’m Winnie the Pooh, how the fuck am I supposed to marry CINDY?!”
“I don’t know, KING FU PANDA!”
“This doesn't make any sense, you’re just randomly yelling out famous bear characters!”
“You can fuck them too for all I care!”
Marc sucked his lips between his teeth to keep himself from laughing. He was mad! Why did he have the urge to laugh? He suddenly snorted, then he shook his head.
“Okay, okay, okay… let’s just… calm down.”
“I was calm before you started shit-talking me!” - you yelled.
Marc winced.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I was just uh… surprised.”
“Duh.”
“Why don’t we just uh… sit down and uh… watch the game? It’s gonna start soon.” - he said as he slowly sat down while gesturing to the other end of the couch.
You narrowed your eyes, but slowly sat down too.
“See? This is nice. Cold beer, favourite snacks, game night… football fan girlfriend… wife… thingy.”
“Thingy?”
“Uuhh…”
“You know what, if I ran into a man and a bear in the woods I’ll just go and find a puma.”
“Okay, now you’re just pissing me off on purpose! I’m trying here!”
You acted like you readjusted your jersey and your hair and you murmured something.
“What?”
More murmuring.
When Marc just stared at you, you huffed dramatically.
“I said I’m sorry!”
“Oh? So you know the word.”
“You started this whole fight with your ‘eww I can’t believe my girlfriend is a cheesehead’ shit.”
“You couldn’t believe that your boyfriend is a Bear fan!”
“But I accepted it!”
“You had a little bit more time.” - Marc said through gritted teeth.
“Okay… you know what? You’re right. You’re trying, I’ll give you that.” - you opened a beer and gave it to Marc, which he cautiously accepted, then you opened one for yourself too. - “Let’s just watch the game in peace and try to enjoy ourselves.”
“Cheers.”
-----
That lasted about twenty minutes, up until the Bears scored the game’s first points. Marc fisted the air with a ‘hell yeah’ and you growled.
“I fucked Jake while he was wearing this jersey.”
Marc’s head snapped to you.
“You didn’t.”
“I did. I told him to try it on and he looked so good in it I had to ride him. Right where you’re sitting.”
“That jersey…” - he pointed at you - “...was on this body?!” - he pointed at himself.
“Yep!”
“You did that on purpose.” - he growled.
“Totally.” - you grinned proudly.
“Okay, that’s it.” - he said as he stood up and finished his beer.
“Aww, poor little baby bear had enough?”
“Yep.” - he slammed the empty bottle on the coffee table then stood up, turned towards you and started unbuckling his belt.
Your eyes widened.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m shutting you up so I don’t have to listen to all that shit that’s coming out of your mouth.” - he said, pulling down his zipper.
Marc saw you squeeze your thighs together. The jersey you were wearing was oversized and reached your thighs, but you were wearing such short shorts under it that Marc first thought you were naked from the waist down. You did that on purpose. He knew you did.
“If you think I’m gonna fuck a Bear fan, you’re mistaken.”
“Who was talking about fucking, baby? You’re gonna suck me off. And if you're doing a good job, maybe you’ll have the privilege of getting fucked into the couch like the slut you are.”
You stood up too, but before you could say anything, Marc grabbed your elbow, yanked you to him and kissed you.
He felt you freeze and when he thought you’re gonna push him away, you suddenly wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him close.
Jake told Steven and Marc that you could be a feisty one and Marc was more than happy when he saw how easy it was to get under your skin. He didn’t know you were a Packers fan, but half of his shit talk was on purpose. You were hot when you were mad.
“I can’t believe I’m kissing a fucking cheesehead.” - he growled annoyed.
“In good times and in bad, baby.” - you quoted your wedding vows to Marc and he chuckled.
“Maybe if I cum all over this piece of crap you’re wearing I’ll feel better.” - he said as he pushed down his jeans and boxer briefs and you sat back down on the couch and before he could bark out an order, you were already licking his tip then sucking it into your mouth.
Marc hummed and as he lifted his hand to push your hair out of your face, he felt his cock twitch in your mouth when the wedding band on his finger caught his eye.
“Fuck…” - he gently caressed your cheek and your eyes smiled as you swallowed more of him while you leaned towards his palm. - “That’s good, baby. That’s a good girl.” - he couldn’t help but praise you.
When you lifted your hand to wrap around his cock as you pulled back a little and he saw your ring too, he almost whined. He felt himself start to thrust slowly into your hand and mouth.
“You like sucking your husband?” - he asked as he looked into your eyes.
You could see his pupils widen when you hummed and nodded as best as you could in that position. He gasped and groaned as he picked up the pace and one of his hands slipped to the top of your head to grip your hair while his other moved to the back of your neck.
“Can you take me down your throat? Can you do that?”
You relaxed your muscles and you held his hips to make him stop thrusting then you moved your head forward, letting him slip all the way down.
Marc shut his eyes tightly with a low groan and incoherent curses. He then felt your throat squeeze him hard as you made a gagging noise.
“Fuck!” - he pulled back quickly and looked down at you in wonder when you sighed deeply then continued sucking him, setting a faster pace. - “Jake is a lucky bastard.” - he panted and you swore you could hear him whine when you moved your other hand in your shorts and panties. Marc watched you as you caressed yourself while you were sucking him.
“Does it turn you on? Does a cock in your mouth turn you on?”
When you nodded with a moan, Marc started thrusting again.
“Of course it does. You’re my little whore. Your only job is to keep your husband satisfied.”
He saw your eyes lose focus as your hand started moving faster.
“You dripping, baby? Does my little wife get wet while sucking my cock?”
You nodded with a moan and Marc couldn’t take it anymore. He had to feel it.
He pulled out of your mouth and leaned down to take off your shorts and panties, then he pushed you back on the couch. He towered over you, spreading your knees and pushing them back towards your chest. He bit his lower lip as he caressed your folds, then when he felt how wet you were, he started to push his cock in.
You whimpered at the pressure, and Marc shushed you.
“It’s okay. You took this cock before. Your little pussy is already shaped like it.” - he slowly bottomed out and his eyes fluttered close at the warm and tight feeling. - “Gotta thank Jake that he found such a perfect cunt.”
“Maaarc…!” - you moaned when he started moving his hips. He always pulled out slowly but pushed back inside harder and harder with each thrust.
You moved back and forth on the couch, trying to hold onto something, but the only thing you felt could ground you were Marc’s arms. One of his hands was beside your head and the other was on the back of the couch, keeping himself up. One of he's knees were on the couch too, making a perfect leverage for him to fuck you senseless.
He felt your nails scratch his skin along his triceps and he leaned down to kiss your neck and ear.
“Feels good?”
“Y…yes!”
“Best cock you ever had?”
“Yes, fuck!”
You tried to rock your hips too, but his thrusts were so rough, you could only take what he was giving you.
He grabbed your wrist and moved your hand to your lower stomach. Your eyes widened when you felt him there.
“Holy shit, Marc!”
“Have your other husbands found your sweet spot yet?”
You looked up at him in question as you tried to not choke on your own cries.
“What spot?”
“That’s a no then.”
He carefully moved your hand on different parts of your lower belly and mound, putting pressure on them as he fucked you hard and steady.
When you let out a sound even you never knew you could make, his face lit up.
“There we go! There we go, baby. Better hold on tight.” - he warned as he increased the tempo and force and you felt the building pleasure reach deeper into your core, transforming into something even more devastating than the harbinger of the most mind blowing orgasm that you ever experienced. You panicked a little when it suddenly felt like you needed to pee.
“Wait… Marc, wait I need to…!”
“Let go. That’s all you gotta do, sweetheart.”
Even if the pleasure felt fantastic you tried to hold back. You couldn't embarrass yourself right during the first…
You felt another hand start to rub your clit and it sealed your fate.
You succumbed to pleasure and then it snapped.
It came over you with such a force that your own cries sounded like it belonged to someone else. The only other thing you heard was Marc’s possessive ‘fuck yes’, but besides that you could only feel.
The intense pleasure just flew and flew out of you with each wave, until you felt like liquid and collapsed back on the couch like a lifeless doll. You felt Marc’s thrust increase then he pulled out of you and heard him moan as something wet landed on your jersey in quick spurs.
“That was so fucking hot, baby.” - you felt him kiss your cheek lazily, pushing his forehead against your temple.
His hot breath hit your face as he panted against you. You didn’t have the energy to open your eyes yet, but you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him close. Marc left several more kisses along your face, giving you time to come back from your high. He caressed your thighs that started to shake and he groaned softly since his softening cock was still inside you and the vibrations were overstimulating both of you.
“Gotta pull out, baby.”
He shushed you as he slowly pulled out and chuckled deeply when he saw the mess the two of you - mostly you - made.
The couch, the floor, his jeans that were barely pushed down and the thighs of both of you were completely drenched.
“Well, well, well, look at that.”
You slowly pushed yourself up on your elbows then sat up quickly as you realized what happened.
“Oh my God!” - you gasped. - “I… I… I’ve never done this before!”
“Gotta remind Jake that.” - Marc said smugly as he stood up, and took off his clothes.
He saw you get embarrassed and he chuckled again. He leaned down and kissed your lips.
“It was hot, baby, don’t feel bad. Did you enjoy it?”
“I, well, it was… intense.”
“In a good way?”
“Yeah.” - you giggled. - “Except the fear of pissing all over you.”
Marc burst out laughing and kissed you again.
“And how do we feel about this?” - he pointed to your jersey.
You looked down confused and saw that he came all over it.
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