౨ৎ — subby!top!peter... mmmm . . . 18+! (yes I'm spreading my subby!top!peter agenda i hope that's okay)
physically, he's got aaallll the control. he's got your legs hiked up, knees bent over his shoulders, body nearly folded in half beneath him. your pussy is swollen, fucked open, and achy around his thick cock, walls gooey and slick and pliant, helpless to do much else than take the brutal, deep thrusts he abuses them with.
effectively, he fucks you completely senseless, with precise snaps of his hips that have your eyes rolling back into your skull.
but verbally? fuck, you'd think you were the one fucking him dumb.
he whines, groans, moans, and whimpers, desperate little pleas falling from his throat while he uses your cunt to milk himself.
"ohhh, fuck, yesyes—fuck baby, just like that. don't stop, please don't stop! s'fuckin' perfect, fuck me s'good—!" between wet, loud plaps! and creaking wood with a voice that's broken and fucked out.
and when he's about to cum? oh, he begs for it. despite having the upper hand, despite being in control of the pace, he begs you to let him cum—"f-fuck, please, m'gonna cum. please lemme cum—i-inside, can i—fu-huuuck—please make me cum, please—!"
and he actually waits; he waits until you give him permission, pace never faltering, still fucking you so fast and hard that it rattles your brain, toned abdomen slamming into your puffy clit every time he bottoms out.
and you're so close yourself that all you can do is nod and chant, "yes, yes, fuck, yes." while your cunt slurps and flutters around him, moans crescendoing as he fucks you even harder, in fast, short thrusts that quickly bring you—and himself—to orgasm.
"o-ohmygod, baby—'m coming—fuck, please, stay still, please baby—need you to take it, please—" his words cut off into moans that morph into near sobs as he starts to release, cock spurting thick, sticky ropes of cum against your walls.
thick cum that squelches lewdly from your convulsing pussy as he sloppily fucks himself through the waves, eyes watering from the way he throws himself into near overstimulation just to ensure that he squeezes out every last drop into your warm womb ♡.
ྀིྀིsynopsis: for the past week you’ve been nothing but cold to jermajesty—yelling at him over the smallest things, accusing him of whateverthefuck, and straight-up ignoring him. you can’t seem to figure out why you’re acting like this, but he can, and already has. what can he do, other than put you in your place?
ωarnings: unprotected p in v fingering oral ( f!receiving ) spit cussing multiple positions ( reader being put in a headlock ) dom!jermajesty sub!reader toxic!reader established relationship
ωord сount: 3977
you sat on the couch, arms folded, lips pouting as jermajesty walked through the front door. he wordlessly took off his shoes and walked past you to hang up his coat.
“why haven’t you been answering your phone?” you said, watching him head straight for the bedroom.
he replied in a tired voice, “i was at work. i had a client show up late.”
you hopped off the couch and followed, stopping at the bedroom doorway. “what other excuses do you have? i’m sick of the bullshit.”
jermajesty turned, forcing his eyebrows together in confusion. “what excuses? stop trying to blow shit out of proportion. you sound dumb. i. was. at. work.”
you scoffed, leaning against the doorframe. “well, who were you with?”
jermajesty grabbed a towel from the dresser, ready for a much-needed shower. “my coworkers. who else would i be with—” he cut himself off before trying to explain himself any further. not at all in the mood to entertain your bullshit.
“listen. i’m tired, my body hurts, and i gotta do the same shit again tomorrow. i wasn’t doing anything i wasn’t supposed to. and i apologize for not answering when you texted me. but you can’t just sit up here and call me a liar. because i’m not. i go to work every day, just to buy you the shit you want, to provide for the both of us.”
he paused, waiting for you to respond, but you just stared at the wall, your expression still annoyed but starting to soften a bit.
jermajesty leaned against the dresser, shoulders slouched. “are you done? i need to shower.”
he watched your eyes trail from his plump lips down to his hand which held his towel. you licked your lips before exhaling irritably and muttering, “whatever, maj.”
jermajesty paused, then his eyebrows raised, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “ohh, i see. wait till i get out of the shower.”
he brushed past you, his arm grazing yours as he headed to the bathroom with his towel. you watched him close the door, the click echoing in the quiet apartment.
you stood there for a moment, a little thrown off, wondering what he meant. you walked to the bed and sat on the edge, fingers tracing the pattern on the woven throw blanket. you thought about your words, the whole back and forth. deep down you didn’t even know why you were pressed—maybe you just needed something from him, needed that connection. but saying sorry first wasn’t your style, and he knew it.
your fingers stopped about 20 minutes later when you heard the bathroom door creak open. footsteps came down the hall. you glanced away from the full-length mirror and saw jermajesty in the doorway, in just a pair of boxers with his towel draped over his shoulder. he stepped into the room, tossing his dirty clothes into the corner hamper, and turned to you. “do you still have an attitude?”
“i don’t have an attitude, jermajesty. i’m sick of you lying to me,” you replied nonchalantly, but he could see through you.
the whole situation confused him. he’d been nothing but faithful and hadn’t given you any reason to doubt him. at this point, jermajesty knew you were just trying to get under his skin, to get what you truly wanted.
jermajesty paused in the doorway, his eyes locked onto yours, then he let the towel drop onto the floor. he crossed the room deliberately, dropping down beside you on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. you shifted closer, feeling the warm heat coming off his bare skin, his thigh brushing yours. he leaned forward a little, clasping his hands, studying your face.
“what’s the problem?” he asked, voice softer. “you want something from me?”
jermajesty gently reached out, sliding one hand around your waist, fingers splaying wide and firm against the small of your back. he pulled you closer until your bodies aligned, then dipped his head, pressing soft, lingering kisses across your cheek, along your jaw, and down the curve of your neck. you let the softest moan slip from your lips, barely audible. your body was betraying you, arching just a fraction toward his mouth on your neck. jermajesty knew exactly what you wanted. you knew, he knew. but you also knew that he wouldn’t give it to you until you used your—
“words, baby. tell me what you want. i’ll give you whatever you want. i promise,” is what he muttered against your lips after allowing your bottom lip to slip away from his mouth.
jermajesty pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, a slow smirk curling onto his lips. one hand still rested on your waist while his other thumb traced lazy arcs under the hem of your baby tee, teasing your skin. “hm? i’m waiting.”
“i-i just miss you. you’re never home.”
“but that doesn’t mean you get to blow up at me and make shit up because you feel a certain way, mama. communicate with me.”
“now give me a kiss,” he murmured as he closed the gap between the two of you and pulled you into a kiss. his large hand gripped your neck as his wet lips placed sloppy kisses around your mouth, then back to practically make out with the spot behind your ear, which pulled a moan from you.
you held onto his forearm when he tightened his grip on your neck and continued his attack on your spot, making you squirm and writhe against the mattress. jermajesty made love to your neck in hopes that him laying you against the mattress would go unnoticed and allow him to continue his ministrations.
pulling away for a second, he guided you to scoot up until you were in the middle of the bed. his knees dipped into the bed while still in front of you. jermajesty’s hands slid up and down your clothed thighs while the two of you made eye contact.
“maj, take ’em off. please?” you begged eagerly, which caused him to smirk and move his hands toward the waistband of your leggings. you assisted him by lifting your legs and allowing the pants to easily slide down and be tossed elsewhere in the bedroom—along with your panties.
jermajesty pushed your legs back and signaled you to hold them against your chest. getting comfortable on his stomach, face to face with your soaking wet pussy. his mouth watered at the sight alone, a quiet hunger sparking in his chest as he took in your vulnerable beauty.
his fingers reached up, teasing your clit with slow, deliberate circles, each touch sending a shiver through you. he hummed in satisfaction, his voice a low, warm rumble. “you want me to kiss it, don’t you, baby.” it was more of a statement than a question. he knew exactly what you wanted.
you nodded, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, a soft, whiny whimper trembling in your throat as your eyes fluttered with need. jermajesty continued rubbing your clit, his touch lingering and precise, drawing out your quiet gasps before he slid his middle and index fingers inside you. the stretch of his long, skilled fingers, moving in and out with a slight curl, pulled a high, needy whimper from your lips. the sound of your wetness filled the air, a slick, rhythmic melody that amazed him, unlike anything he’d ever heard, each motion deepening the intimate spell woven between the two of you.
then, with a slow, deliberate lean, jermajesty brought his mouth closer, his breath warm and teasing against your skin, sending a shiver rippling through your body before his lips even made contact. he placed gentle, warm, and wet kisses on your clit, each one soft and precise, a tender caress that sparked a quiet fire deep within your core. the soft, slick sounds of his kisses filled the hushed room, each one pulling a trembling, whiny gasp from your lips, your breath catching in the quiet. your fingers tightened in the sheets, your grip fragile and desperate, nails digging into the cool cotton as you fought to stay still under the slow, teasing rhythm of his mouth, your body quivering with the effort to hold back your instinctive need for more.
“it’s so pretty and wet, mama. all for me?” jermajesty asked against your clit. he closed his eyes with a deep, appreciative moan. he could scarcely fathom that a woman might become so aroused by him alone. you continued to amaze him in more ways than one.
“all yours,” you somehow managed to push out, your voice breathy and strained. your eagerness sent your heart thumping vigorously against your ribcage, while your heavy, labored breathing only intensified the overwhelming sensation. you watched as he glided his free hand upward along the soft plane of your stomach, ascending until his palm encountered the gentle swell of your covered breast.
jermajesty gently tugged at the delicate fabric of your tank top, drawing it aside just enough to expose your breast to the cool air. his fingers brushed teasingly over your hardened nipple, sending sparks of pleasure cascading through you until you writhed beneath him, utterly consumed by the multitude of sensations that threatened to pull you under.
suddenly he pulled his mouth away, along with his fingers, the sudden absence leaving you aching and empty. jermajesty watched your brow furrow and a soft pout form on your lips in pure, utter confusion, a quiet warmth flickering in his eyes at the sight. his hands trailed slowly up and down the backs of your thighs, warm palms gliding over your skin as he spoke, voice low and steady.
“you know i love you, right, ma?”
your chest rose and fell fervently, still catching your breath, and you nodded your head eagerly, the words tumbling out in a soft, rushed whisper.
“yes, yes, baby, i know.”
“so why you actin’ like that, huh?” jermajesty’s voice was low and warm as he leaned down, placing soft, wet kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. he bit and sucked gently, trailing lower with each press of his mouth, closer and closer to where you wanted him most, the heat of his breath making your hips twitch. you exhaled slowly, trying to mask the growing irritation coiling tight inside you, your voice coming out soft and a little strained.
“i’m sorry, maj…”
“you don’t gotta lie to me, mama.” he snickered, lowering his head and sucking your clit into his wet and warm mouth, moaning as he did so. the sudden action sucked the air from your lungs. he pulled away with a pop, then spit, watching it drip down your pussy. he leaned in and dragged his tongue in one long, slow stroke from your entrance all the way up to your clit, then did it again, slower, letting the wet flat of his tongue linger so you felt every second.
his fingers followed just as unhurried. two of them pressed against your opening, circling, teasing, then sank in with a deliberate push that made you feel the stretch inch by inch. he curled them gently, finding that soft spot inside and rubbing it in slow, deep strokes while his mouth closed over your clit once again. he sucked lightly at first, then a little firmer, his skilled tongue circling in lazy, wet patterns that made soft, filthy, pornographic sounds fill the quiet room.
“oohh shit.” you greedily gasped for air as you tried your best to hold your position. spit and your slick mixed and dripped down his chin, but he didn’t wipe it away. he kept up with his ministrations, fingers pumping in a slow, steady rhythm, the wet squelch of them loud every time he pulled almost all the way out and slid back in. he took his time tasting you, tongue dipping lower to lap at where his fingers disappeared, then back up to suck your clit again with soft, wet pulls that left you trembling.
he pulled his fingers almost all the way out again, watching the way your pussy clenched around nothing for a second, then sank them back in deeply and slowly, curling hard enough to make your stomach jump. his tongue flattened and licked broad and lazy over everything, collecting every drop like he didn’t want to waste it.
your fingers tightened in the sheets, hips twitching despite how hard you tried to stay still. “don’t stop… please… it feels so good… you’re gonna make me—ah—”
just as your orgasm was about to wash over, he pulled away. jermajesty sat back just enough to watch your face, his lips and chin still soaked with your juices. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then reached down and shoved his boxers off. his thick dick sprang free and slapped heavy against his stomach, hard and leaking at the tip.
you looked at him with irritation written all over your face, brows furrowed, lips still parted from how close you’d been. jermajesty smiled, leaning down to roughly cup your face in one hand and pull you closer. he kissed you hard and deep for a second, tasting yourself on his tongue, then pulled back just enough to spit into your open mouth. he watched it land and slide down your throat, then pressed soft, wet kisses down the side of your neck, lingering for a moment before he pulled away completely.
“fix your face,” he said, voice low and amused. “then turn around and lay on your stomach for me.” you rolled your eyes but listened, shifting onto your stomach and settling into the sheets with a quiet huff. he gripped your hips and lifted your ass up, pushing the small of your back down until you were arched just how he wanted you. his palm stayed firm on your lower back. “hold it.”
he grabbed his dick, stroking himself a few times with his lip tucked between his teeth. jermajesty rubbed his tip through your wet lips, over your clit and down to your entrance. he felt you clench around nothing and slowly nudged his tip inside your pussy while throwing his head back. you let out a whine from the pleasure-filled but burning stretch of his dick pushing into you.
once he was in, jermajesty pulled back before rutting forward with a deep and intense thrust, knocking the air from your lungs. you lost your arch almost immediately—gliding forward into the mattress, making him slip out. jermajesty voiced his concern. “nuh uh,” he shook his head and reached out to pull you up and back into your original position. “i said hold it.”
he teased your entrance once more, gripping your hips to ensure you wouldn’t be going anywhere this time. “put it back in, baby.” you exhaled and reached back to grab his dick, lining it back up with your leaking entrance. this time, he went slower, pulling a whine from your lips as he bottomed out. you clenched around him as he hit one of your many, many spots.
“that’s my good girl… i knew you could take it…” he moaned as he thrust in and out of your sopping wet pussy, rolling his hips with every deep stroke. you let your head drop onto the mattress, eyes squeezed shut and bottom lip caught tightly between your teeth. the creamy ring coating his dick made him shut his eyes and tip his head back toward the ceiling. the way you kept clenching around him made it hard for him to focus on pleasing you instead of cumming too early.
“i—” you started, trying to warn him about the warmth coiling low in your stomach. you reached back until your dominant hand was in contact with his chest, going lower to push at his lower stomach with the little strength you tried to muster up. jermajesty wordlessly swatted your hand. he then raised both hands up from your plump ass to your back, pushing you down into the mattress without breaking his rhythmic thrusts.
jermajesty carefully lifted his arm and enclosed your head between his forearm and bicep. he tightened his grip slightly, pulling you closer so that your head was pressed against his chest. you let out a mewl from the pressure against your throat. that alone pulled you deeper into the euphoric trance that was jermajesty, as he ever so slightly cut off the smallest amount of air allowed to flow into your lungs and out.
he craned his head down so that he was able to get a look at your—what seemed to be—blissed-out facial expression. making his dick pulse with every thrust as you clenched around his thickness, your eyes shut tightly, brows furrowed slightly, and your soft, plump lips formed into that pout that he loved oh so very much. he watched your expressions closely while he hit that gummy spot inside of you repeatedly.
he leaned down closer, his breath ghosting your cheek before placing a soft wet kiss on the flushed and damp skin. “does that feel good, my baby? talk to me, mama,” he let out soft moans against your ear as your cunt swallowed him whole. you were so tight around him, feeling as if you were sucking him in.
you couldn’t form words at first, only a broken sound that vibrated against his forearm—which you were now nearly drooling on. the way he held your head there, forearm flexing just enough to keep a thin thread of air moving through you.
“y-yes,” you finally managed, voice thin and shaky. “feels… so good, daddy. don’t stop—”
jermajesty’s hips stuttered for half a second at the name, a low groan rolling out of him as he pushed in deeper, grinding against your cervix as if he was trying to carve a permanent place for himself there. his free hand slid under your stomach, fingers splaying wide to feel the slight bulge of himself from the outside every time he bottomed out.
“you wanna cum, pretty girl? is that what you want?”
your answer was another helpless mewl as he shifted the angle just a little, the head of his dick kissing that same gummy spot on every upward thrust. the heat of his chest against your back. the wet sound of your cunt greedily taking him. the way his breath hitched every time you fluttered around him.
he let his arm loosen just enough for you to drag in a fuller breath, then tightened again the second you exhaled, keeping you floating in that hazy space where pleasure felt bigger than your body. his thrusts grew heavier, the slap of skin on skin filling the quiet room.
“gonna fill this pretty pussy up,” he promised, lips brushing your temple. he felt it the second your thighs started trembling hard against his—little violent shakes that traveled all the way up into the fluttering grip of your pussy. jermajesty’s hips stilled completely, buried deep, and you made a soft, broken sound of protest.
your head turned just enough to shoot him a frustrated look over your shoulder, your brows furrowed, lips still parted. “why’d you stop…” you complained, trying to push your hips back onto him.
he only pressed a firm hand to your lower back, pinning you still while he slowly dragged himself out. the wet, obscene slide of his thick dick leaving you made you whimper, walls clenching around nothing. his arm unwrapped from around your neck and he pulled away entirely, cool air kissing the sweat-drenched tank top clinging to your back.
even with your body heavy and trembling, you mustered enough strength to lift your head, eyes soft and needy, silently asking for a kiss. but jermajesty only smiled faintly, hands gentle as he sat you up. he peeled the damp tank top over your head, unhooked your bra, and let both pieces fall somewhere off the bed. then he guided you down onto your side, arranging your legs just so before he settled in behind you.
one strong arm slid under your neck, the other wrapped around your middle, pulling you flush against his chest until there wasn’t a single inch of space left between you. he lined himself up again, the blunt head of his dick nudging against your soaked entrance, and pushed back in with one long, deep thrust that punched a quiet moan out of you.
jermajesty held you tightly, chest to back, as he started fucking into you on your side—slow at first, then rolling and deep, the new angle letting him grind against every sensitive place inside. his breath was warm against your ear. he licked two fingers and brought them to your chest, rubbing slow, slick circles over one sensitive nipple while his hips kept that steady, possessive rhythm.
he kept the same slow rhythm, chest pressed against your back, but his breathing had changed. soft whimpers and quiet moans started slipping into your ear with every thrust.
“feels so good,” he whispered, voice shaky. “your pussy feels so good around me…” another soft moan left him as he pushed in deep again. he felt that he was on the brink of releasing his warm load inside of you but wanted nothing more than for you to come first. so he held back as much as he could. he rested his head in the crook of your neck, breath shuddering against your skin with every thrust. soft whimpers and quiet moans kept leaving him, mixing with yours until the sounds blended together into a beautiful melody.
the pressure built until it spilled over. your body tightened around his dick as you came, soft cries mixing with the wet sounds of him still moving into you. jermajesty held you closer, voice low and shaky against your neck. “that’s it… let it out. i got you. keep coming for me…” he kept thrusting slow and deep while you shook through it. “good girl… just like that.” he was close now too, his hips starting to lose their steady rhythm as he chased his own orgasm. soft whimpers left him with every push, his breath hot against your skin.
his orgasm came closer and closer as you clenched and restricted around his length repeatedly while making a mess of the sheets for a third time tonight.jermajesty’s hips stuttered, a broken groan tearing from his throat as he buried himself as deep as he could go and spilled inside you. thick, hot pulses filled you while he held you tight against him, forehead pressed to your shoulder, whispering your name like a prayer between shaky breaths.
he stayed buried only a moment longer, riding out the last waves, then carefully pulled out. a soft rush of warmth followed, mixing with the mess already soaking the sheets. before he could say a word you turned in his arms, pressing yourself against his chest and tucking your face into the warm, sweat-slick corner of his neck. your breathing slowed almost immediately, body going soft and heavy against him as sleep took you.
jermajesty’s arms tightened around you on instinct, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. he opened his mouth, the urge to talk already rising because he was in fact a shit talker at heart—but you were already gone. completely out, lips parted against his damp skin, the steady rise and fall of your chest the only answer he got.
so he swallowed whatever he’d been about to say, a small, fond smile tugging at his mouth as he settled back against the pillows and held you closer. the sheets were ruined, the room still heavy with the heat of what you’d done, but none of it mattered. he simply stayed there, fingers drifting slowly through your hair, listening to you sleep against his neck until his own eyes finally closed too.
PAIRING: sub!jermajesty jackson x dom!black!fem!reader
SUMMARY: see ask below. 🩷
AUTHOR’S NOTE: i made a rookie mistake & accidentally posted this fic before it was even finished, so i had to delete it before anybody saw it… the ovulation made me do it 🫠
“nnngh, fuck— pleaseee, mama… p-please let me c-cum inside you…”
you had been edging Jermajesty for the past hour and he was only growing needier and needier the longer you continued to deny him relief. you were sat flush on his lap with his dick deep inside you as you rode him through the night, purposely speeding up your bounces to get him close to his peak just to slow down before he could even think about cumming — and you repeated that pattern over and over again just to hear him beg for you.
“you think you deserve that, baby? hm? think you deserve to cum inside me?” you cooed condescendingly, teasingly squeezing his shoulders, as Jermajesty whined pathetically and profusely nodded his head, his pretty eyes filled with desperation peering up at you while he watched you ride him, “use your words, pretty boy, c’mon. tell mama what i wanna hear.”
“y-yessss, mama, ple—nnngh!—pleaseeee let me. i-i’ll be so good f-for you—mmh!—i’ll b-be a good b-boy,” Jermajesty whimpered pitifully, his fingers digging into the fat of your ass to hold onto you, as a furrow formed between his eyebrows and his grip tightened on you, his nails leaving crescent-shaped markings in your melanated skin, “f-fuuuuck, m’so close— please, mama!”
you looked at him silently for a moment, as if considering letting him cum like he begged for, and a slow wicked smirk spread across your pretty face as you suddenly slowed down your bouncing for what felt like the millionth time to Jermajesty and now moved at an agonizingly slow pace, earning a broken sob from his vocals and a twitch from his dick against your walls.
“nonono— pleaseeee—” Jermajesty’s whines and whimpers for release soon got caught in his throat and a choked up sob fell from his lips instead as hot tears brimmed in his eyes and streamed down his cheeks, which only made your smirk widen while your hips continued their slow roll.
“aw, don’t cry, baby. your face’s too pretty for all that, stop it,” you cooed patronizingly, your hands moving to cradle his face, as your thumbs gently wiped away his tears and he whimpered meekly, instinctively leaning into your touch while he sniffled, “why you cryin’, huh? talk to me.”
“w—hic!—wanna cum, ma…” Jermajesty mewled softly, his hands shakily sliding up to grip your waist, as soft whimpers fell from his lips with each slow roll and bounce of your hips and his hands traveled from your waist to your back, his palms sliding up your spine before grabbing ahold of your shoulders and holding onto them, “i-it’s… it’s gettin’… s-sensitive…”
his last word left his mouth so quietly that you would’ve missed it had you not been staring at his lips as he talked. you tilted your head just a little, studying his tear-streaked face, and you let out a soft hum, the sound practically mocking the state he was currently in.
“oh, you gettin’ sensitive on me, that’s why you cryin’ like this… i’m makin’ that dick all sensitive, ‘Maj?” you teased in a low sultry purr, your hands leaving his face and cradling his nape, as you pulled him closer and lowered your head to his, your face inches away from his and your breaths mingling with his shaky pants, “mhm, my pretty boy’s all fucked-out and sensitive and i ain’t even let him cum yet… guess i gotta’ fix that, don’t i?”
before Jermajesty could say a word — or let out another desperate and strangled noise — your hips shifted gears and you gradually started bouncing faster and faster until you were back to the pace you were at before he started crying. loud and needy whines and whimpers fell from Jermajesty’s mouth and each sound punctuated a bounce of your hips as your ass clapped loudly against his thighs and the bed rocked and creaked rhythmically beneath the two of you.
Jermajesty’s arms wrapped tightly around your torso and he held you against him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck to try and muffle his sounds but he only got louder by the minute, the sensitivity of his dick combined with the slickness of your squelching pussy ultimately starting to overstimulate and overwhelm him simultaneously.
“go ahead, sweet boy. cum inside me, you earned it. let me feel that big dick paint my walls and make ‘em white.” you whispered sweetly in his ear, your words only adding fuel to the intense fire growing inside of him, as Jermajesty’s body completely tensed and he let out a sharp broken gasp, his eyes rolling back and his mouth hanging open while his orgasm crashed down on him like a bucket of bricks and tears welled up in his eyes again.
“ohhh, t-thaaank you, mama! t-thank you, thank y-youuu, thank you!— oh, shitshitshit— nnnghhh, thank you!” Jermajesty let out babbles of slurred and slightly incoherent whines of gratitude against your neck and his body jerked a few times underneath yours as you felt his tears slide down your neck and you grinned satisfactorily, cradling the back of his buzzed head and gently caressing it in a way that completely contradicted how your hips were roughly slamming down on him.
“mmm, you’re so welcome, baby. i’d do anything for my good boy. you don’t gotta’ cry no more, handsome, i got you.”
“What I just tell you?” Jermajesty grunts, pulling your hips flush against his, hands squeezing your flesh tightly. “If you wake somebody up, and they see how I got you, that’s your ass.”
Whoever told you and Jer it was a good idea to be fucking at the sleepover when yall don’t even like each other was lying to ya’ll face.
“I’m not—shit—m’not trying to, damn..” you whimper with annoyance.
You hated Jermajesty full heartedly. Why? Because he always has something to say when no one asks for his input. Or, he ruins his homeboys relationships or chances by giving them the worst fucking advice they’ve ever heard. He was a total dumbass.
Now, Jer hated you for two reasons and two reasons only. One, every time he tries to get at any girl your friends with, you’re quick to cockblock, giving them a full rundown on his history about the girls he’s fumbled. And two, he wholeheartedly thinks you’re the sexiest girl he’s ever laid his eyes upon, and often makes himself mad again just thinking about how the two of you will never happen because you don’t fuck with him as a person.
Now that dick though? Mmh, that was another story. Because being sexy as fuck and an asshole can be true all at once.
And he just so happens to be both.
Hence why you’re positioned here on the side of your mutual friends bed, gripping the edge of the mattress while getting your shit beat in.
“Mmf- fuck mama,” he groans, finger tips digging into your skin as he thrust into you. “wish I could smack this ass right now..” he mumbles, licking his lips.
You whimper softly, tears pricking your eyes as his force pushes your arch impossibly deeper, constantly hitting your cervix.
It’s almost too much to bear, but with the way he’s hitting your shit? Oh, you couldn’t care less.
“D-don’t…fucking call me that.” You huff as a moan slips past your lips, your bottom lip instantly folding between your teeth, as your eyes close tightly.
He scoffs, his chest pressing heavily against your back as a smirk of disbelief forms on his face. “Call you what? Mama? You got a problem with me calling you mama, but you don’t got a problem with me beating this pussy up while our friends are asleep?”
He snickers quietly into your ear. “Okay, mami.”
You moan, this close to letting out a cry as you bite the edge of the mattress, the nickname making you clench around him. “I can’t fucking stand you,” you mutter against the cushion.
“Mhm,” Jermajesty hums, ignoring you as he watches the way your ass ripples against his lower half, entranced. “Can’t stand my guts...” he trails off.
“But I’m all in yours, huh pretty?” He taunts, tilting his head as if you can see him.
You want to look back to scold him, to tell him to shut the fuck up. But you know if you do that, you’ll most likely cum on the spot just looking at him. And he doesn’t need to experience the pleasure in that.
He rolls his hips once again, the pace intoxicatingly addictive as the air gets knocked out your lungs.
And that’s the crazy thing about it—he isn’t going too fast or too slow, he’s fucking you just right. Putting enough momentum into his thrusts to ruin the both of you.
“Fuck jer,” you gasp breathlessly, hand suddenly scrambling to grab at his forearm, grounding yourself.
“Oh fuck, yes..yes, right there maj,” your voice getting whinier as you whimper pathetically into the bedding. “M-mmmmh!”
He grins, internally patting himself on the back for being able to push you over the edge like this. Why, you ask? Well, just a few months ago, you two were talking and you told him his dick game was probably weak as hell.
Next time you’ll just shut up on the topic of Jermajesty’s meat.
“Jer, m’gonna cum—“ you whine suddenly, turning dickdrunk.
He groans, big hand flying against your mouth to muffle your cries. “Then cum mami,” he encourages, pressing kisses to your neck. “gimme that shit..” he grumbles into your ear, sending two more mean thrust into your throbbing pussy before your cumming around him with a choked out gasp.
“Ngh- fuck..” Jermajesty hisses, grabbing your ass as you coat him in white.
He bites his lips as your hole continues to suck him in, making him follow right behind you with a groan, burying his face into the crook of your neck as his thrust become sloppy.
You two stay there for a second, trying to silently catch your breath before he pulls out.
You go limp, falling back against the pillow you were originally lying on against the ground as you come to your senses.
Wow, you really just let Jermajesty Jackson fuck you at a sleepover.
🪽- It’s almost 8 in the morning… I started writing this at midnight…🧍🏽♀️
kissmyglxck — don’t copy my work, ask to translate, & if you recreate anything pls tag me <3
It’s part of his biology, there’s nothing to do about it. Clark is supposed to have a bunch of kids, and for that he has to cum a lot. A whole lot. Which means you end up completely full of his cum every single time he fucks you.
He's quick to recover after each orgasm, so the moment he's done pumping you full of one load, he's already picking up the pace again and thrusting into you just the way you like it.
It's so messy. His cum causes wet, obscene squelches every time his cock pushes in. The thick, creamy substance dribbles from you, down between your ass cheeks and onto the bed, gathering in a sticky puddle under you.
And there's just so much of it.
“Gosh, baby. Oh, gosh, you feel so good,” he whines, his body hot as the pleasure starts building in him again.
You mewl underneath him, your nails dragging down the skin of his arms, leaving behind red tracks. You can feel his cum in you, warm and thick where it's gathered against your womb.
Clark slides a large hand between your bodies, his fingers drawing messy shapes on your clit. He feels bad about how many orgasms he's had, seeing how you've only had two and he's had at least five. It makes the entire situation feel unfair, but he just can't help it.
“Can you come for me, hon?” he asks sweetly, peppering kisses across your jaw, up to your cheek.
You nod, moaning, feeling that tight knot of pleasure coiling in your womb.
Clark whines as he feels you clench around him tight, another orgasm already building low in his abdomen.
You'd been close already. Clark just gives you the final push so you fall over the edge. You mewl his name, hips grinding against his as the waves of your pleasure wash over you.
Clark gasps and moans as he feels your cunt squeezing him tight and he comes again, spilling more of his thick cum into you.
“Golly,” he chokes out. “Oh, baby, so good, so good.” He kisses across your face with quick pecks. He's already getting hard in you again. “You okay to keep going, baby?”
You nod weakly, your lips seeking his to kiss him softly.
He smiles against your mouth. “That's my girl.”
♡ please comment and reblog my work, it means so much to me and inspires me to keep writing
Clark Kent masterlist
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𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - if you wanna be added to my Clark Kent taglist, lmk <3
Pairing: Spy!Steve x Spy!Reader
WC: 10.5k
Warnings: enemies to lovers, loosely inspired by mr. and mrs. smith, the avengers are not super mainstream in this, sexual tension, shower scene, makeout, jealousy, mean!steve at times, brat!reader, eventual smut (dry humping, fingering, unprotected p in v, edging, creampie, steve eating you out within an inch of your life (munch steve come homeeeeeeee), doggy style, tonguefucking), mentions of voyeurism, surveillance, size kink, miscommunication, angst-ish with comfort.
Summary: You and Steve are voluntold you're married for an undercover mission. Should be easy, except you hate each other.
+fran: this is the opening showing of the Captain Americana Film Festival and my humble contribution to Steve's birthday!!! I cannot tell you how much it filled me with joy that I sat down to write this on the 4th and actually spat out 10k words. WE ARE SO BACK!!! Happy 108th to the man who will always have my heart, has been the gold standard against which I measure every man, (this is blond man propaganda) and also my astrological twin <3 no one gets me like he does fr.
⤷ you should go listen to the incredible playlist named "mr and mrs smith [john and jane]" by marybatz on spotify
"Absolutely not!"
Fury had the timing of a tax audit to a billionaire CEO. Of course, of course, you'd be stuck playing this mission with fucking Steve.
One second you were minding your business, enjoying what was left of your coffee and your relatively peaceful morning, and the next Nick Fury was informing you that you would be spending the foreseeable future pretending to be happily married to Steve Rogers.
"You're going." Fury didn't even break stride. He rolled his eye and kept walking down the hallway toward the conference room, clearly done entertaining your complaints before you'd even finished making them, with you hot on his heel.
Your footsteps echoed in the wide hallway as you walked backwards, facing Fury. "Can't I marry someone else for this?" You pondered. "What about Barnes?"
Fury stopped so suddenly you nearly tripped. "You want to pretend to be married to Barnes?"
You opened your mouth, immediately closed it, thought for a second and shrugged, squeezing your eyes shut. "That's not the point."
"That's what I thought."
The polished floors reflected the overhead lights as the two of you moved through the hallway. “Nat, maybe? Some of those married dudes would eat up girl-on-girl and spill the beans right away. Mission would be so quick!”
Fury walked with the patience of a man who'd dealt with far worse than you. The fact that he hadn't strangled you after years of working together was honestly kind of impressive, a little endearing almost.
Both of you quickly arrived at the conference room door, Fury stopping with his hand on the handle, turning his face to you and letting our a frustrated sigh. "Do you like working here?"
You rolled your eyes, "Yes, sir." What kind of question was that?
"And what's your title?" His brow quirked up.
A confused look plastered all over your face. "Agent."
He leaned down to talk to you closer, almost like explaining rules to a petulant child, "Then be an agent." and proceeded to push the door open and hold it for you, giving you full view of Steve Rogers sitting at the head of the table with a sour expression on his face, just as displeased to have to pretend to love you for the mission.
The training room should've been empty half an hour ago, and technically, everyone was done for the day.
It should’ve been quiet—mats wiped down, lights dimmed, everyone gone for the night.
Instead, the air was thick.
Heavy with sweat, heat, and something sharp enough to make the back of your neck prickle. The entire team and a couple recruits were watching you.
Well, you and Steve.
At first not openly—no one was stupid enough to make it obvious—but they lingered. Leaned against walls, sat on benches, hovered just close enough to pretend they had somewhere else to be.
It started as any other training session did, you rotated partners, almost like shark bait: in and out, partner after partner cycling through you while you stayed planted on the mat, pushing your stamina, your endurance, your patience.
Until you ended up on the other side of the mat from Steve.
Barefoot, sleeves rolled, skin already lightly sheened with the littlest bit of sweat that somehow made him look betterinstead of worse—which was deeply, personally offensive.
Here's the thing: he was a super soldier. He had endless stamina, super strength, reflexes that outmatched 99% of the population, and he had it all with perfect blond hair and barely breaking a sweat on his sculpted body.
It infuriated the hell out of you.
He blocked every kick, every punch, and when he didn't he wasn't even phased.
It made you go harder, to the point where you found yourselves now: almost trying to hurt each other.
By then, no one was even preteding to be occupied by anything else, shamelessly staring at the two of you at the center of the mat like Oppenheimer waiting for a bomb to go off.
Steve had stopped treating you with the same careful restraint he used with newer recruits. He'd throw you harder into the mats, knock the wind from your lungs, shove you back with enough force to remind you exactly how much stronger he was, and you'd borderline play dirty.
Every hit had a little more weight behind it. Neither willing to back down. Neither willing to lose.
Sam was sitting backwards in a chair, chin propped on his arms, watching like he had front row seats to the best show of his life; Natasha looked delighted; Bucky looked concerned, brows drawn, arms crossed tight over his chest, like he was trying to decide whether to step in or let you both learn your lesson the hard way.
Steve stood opposite of you, his feet staggered and his arms up, making a "come at me" motion with his fingers. His hair was slightly mussed, a damp strand falling forward over his forehead.
"Come to daddy."
The entire room held their breaths, and you saw red.
In hindsight, you should've planned a better move than to just charge at him, the strength in your muscles and bones not being able to match his. You should've thought of something tactical, something smart.
But also… you fucking hated his guts.
Which is exactly how you ended up with your cheek and stomach pressed to the sweaty mat, with Steve's whole weight on your back, your wrists pinned between the two of you and his right arm laced under yours and up your back, hand holding your neck down.
His hands caught you mid-motion, grip iron-tight as he twisted, using your momentum against you with terrifying ease, his grip locking your body in place, the angle just shy of painful.
"You need to work on your psyche. Mind over matter." His stupid voice right in your ear made goosebumps bloom up your spine, so you did what any reasonable person would do.
You flexed the knee that was between his spread legs hard enough that you hit him square in the balls, giving you the out you needed.
You straightened on your feet, pushing damp hair back from your face, a breathless, borderline feral grin breaking across your lips as he winced on the mat in pain.
"Who's your daddy now?"
Your breathless laughter was cut short, Fury's booming voice breaking through any pain or enjoyment present in the room. "You do know domestic violence is not part of your cover story, no?"
Both of your heads whipped in the direction of his voice.
He continued to walk in your direction, dropping two folders in front of your feet, and Steve, who was still kneeling down on the mat. "Shower this off. You leave in the morning, lovebirds."
The neighborhood looked like the kind of place where people complained to the HOA because their neighbor's hydrangeas were the wrong shade of blue.
Every lawn was trimmed within an inch of its life, sharp lines cutting through impossibly green grass like someone came out with a ruler every morning.
The mailboxes all matched—sleek, black, expensive-looking—and every driveway held something polished and obscene:luxury SUV or a car that definitely cost more than your first apartment.
The houses themselves were enormous. White trim, brick facades, wraparound porches, massive windows that left little room for privacy on a street that looked like it loved to mind every business but its own.
You sat in the passenger seat while Steve drove to your home, the undercover file open across your lap like a book while your bare feet rested on the dash.
Because annyong Steve was free, and your favorite past time. "No feet on the dash."
You turned a page, ignoring him. "They're staying." You read more of the file. "It's more comfortable that way." Your light blue summer dress was bunched up higher across your thighs, and he did a double take before taking a right turn to your house block.
He sighed. "If we crash—"
"Just look at the road instead of me and we'll be fine." That made him shift in the driver's seat, straightening his posture and looking ahead, his Adam's apple bobbing in annoyance.
What irritated Steve about you was the fact that these comebacks never even seemed to make sense or be thought of, it just rolled off your tongue, almost just for the plot. And you didn't even care.
He didn't even know why you hated him so much in the first place, but he reciprocated the feeling as soon as he saw how insubordinate and bratty you were.
Steve sighed the long suffering sigh of a man questioning every life decision that had brought him to this moment. "You're impossible." Muttered under his breath.
"You're a Senior Project Manager at your own company, honey!" Fake admiration and praise filled your voice. "Oh, you proposed quick! Only a year after our first date." You turned to him, your first real smile plastered on your face. "You're so down bad."
The car came to a stop in your driveway, and Steve turned it off, unclipping his seatbelt. "Put your shoes on, we're here and I feel eyes already."
"Bossy." You muttered, doing exactly as he said. As you got out of the car, your voice went up an octave, carrying through the humid summer weather.
“Ready, honey?” you asked, slipping the word out effortlessly, like you’d been saying it for years.
He opened the front door for you, making sure whoever was watching heard him just as well, possessive in a way that made your breath hitch before you could stop it.
“After you, sweetheart.”
You'd barely had enough time to figure out which bedroom closet was yours before the doorbell rang.
ding-dong. ding-dong.
You froze in the middle of the bedroom, one hand still gripping a hanger, Steve somewhere down the hall filling a modified cabinet with all sorts of concealed weapons.
You dropped the hanger onto the bed without another thought, smoothing your hands down your dress as you moved. Steve stepped out of the kitchen at the same time, wiping his hands on a dish towel like he’d been doing something domestic instead of checking sightlines and exits.
Ben and Julie Poindexter stood in your porch like they had been plucked straight out of a catalog. They were ones you hoped to make the acquaintance of quickly, as he was the right hand of the big druglord you and Steve were tasked with making an airtight case on.
Years of field work had taught you that monsters were rarely obvious, still, some primitive part of your brain always expected criminals to look like criminals.
Instead, Ben Poindexter looked like somebody who coached Little League and had multiple PTA moms undoing extra buttons in their cardigans to get his attention. Beside him, Julie beamed, already leaning slightly forward like she couldn’t wait to know everything about you.
“Oh my goodness,” she breathed, eyes lighting up. “You must be the Adlers!” You felt Steve shift beside you, his hand coming to rest warm on your back with an ease that shouldn't be there in the best of actors.
He smiled, and it was a good one. The kind that made people relax immediately. The kind that five years ago made you—
“Guilty,” he said easily. “Frank.” Right. Frank Adler.
He extended his hand and Ben took it immediately, introducing you then. “I’m Dex,” the shorter blond said in return, just as easy. “This is my wife, Julie.”
“Hi,” you said, stepping forward like you hadn’t been mentally preparing to dismantle her entire social circle for intel. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
She lit up.
“Oh, you are just adorable,” she gushed, reaching out to squeeze your arm like you were already best friends. “We saw the moving truck this morning and I told Ben, I said, ‘We have to go introduce ourselves before everyone else gets to them first.’”
You faked confusion. "Ben…?"
He chuckled lightly in response. "That's me, I… uh… Ben's really only for her and my parents. Friends call me Dex."
You smiled back in understanding. “We appreciate that,” he said smoothly. “It’s been a bit of a whirlwind getting settled.”
“So,” Dex cut in, tone casual but eyes observant, “what brings you two here?” There it was. The first test.
You felt Steve’s thumb twitch slightly against your back. A cue , or maybe just instinct. “Work, mostly,” he said, not missing a beat. “I just transferred to oversee a new branch out here.”
Julie gasped softly. “Oh! That’s right, you’re the project manager, right? We heard something about that—”
Of course they did.
You tilted your head toward Steve, letting your smile soften just a touch as you looked at him. Pride, affection… Just enough to sell it.
“He won’t say it, but he’s very good at what he does.” You interjected, turning your sweet smile to your nosy neighbors again.
His hand pressed a little more firmly into your back before easing again. “Someone has to pay the bills,” he joked lightly, glancing down at you.
"It's a 50/50 relationship," you shot back, nudging his side with your elbow just enough to look playful. "You earn money, and I look pretty in the things it buys." Your hand reached up to scratch the freshly shaven skin of his chin.
“Wow,” Julie breathed, practically vibrating with delight. “You two are so cute.”
You laughed, soft, a little embarassed… and completely fake. Dex watched that exchange carefully. His smile stayed in place, but his eyes sharpened just a fraction.
“New couples usually take a while to settle in around here,” he said, tone still easy. “But I think you two will fit right in.”
“Well,” you said lightly, leaning just a little closer into Steve without thinking about it, “we’re counting on our neighbors to help with that.”
Julie clasped her hands together. “Oh, you have to come to dinner this weekend! Everyone’s going to be there—it’s kind of our thing.”
“We’d love to,” Steve said, lightly nodding.
Both of them smiled in satisfaction, briefly saying their goodbyes and we'll let you get settled. As they started to step back, Julie waved enthusiastically. “Welcome to the neighborhood!”
Integration happened faster and easier than either of you expected. Almost like… bait.
It started with waves.
Small, polite acknowledgments from across driveways—neighbors watering already-perfect lawns, women in linen sets pausing mid-walk with their equally curated dogs. At first it was just smiles, quick introductions repeated twice because no one actually listened the first time, or maybe they expected you to slip up.
Names, occupations, how long you planned to stay.
Somehow, without either of you saying much at all, your lives had already been filled in for you. Steve—Frank—was “the project manager from the city.” You were “so sweet” and “adjusting beautifully.”
It was unsettling.
Steve got pulled in first.
Dex made it look casual—leaning over the fence one late afternoon while Steve pretended to struggle with a hose attachment he absolutely knew how to fix.
“Couple of us head out to the club on Saturdays,” Dex had said, like it wasn’t a test. Like it wasn’t an invitation into something much bigger. “You golf?”
Steve had shrugged, wiping his hands on a towel like the answer didn’t matter. “Enough not to embarrass myself.”
Dex chuckled. “Good. Fisk hates losing.”
That was how Steve Rogers found himself in pressed polos and quiet greens, standing under the sun with a man who ran half the city from behind clean hands and cleaner money.
Wilson Fisk didn’t look like a monster either. They never did.
From the sidelines, it would’ve looked normal—three men talking shop, trading easy laughs, the soft crack of a golf ball slicing through the air.
But Steve came home with tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before, and eyes that thought too much.
You were integrated differently. Faster, deeper in a sense. If you wanna know a man, you need to know the woman in his life first. Julie took one look at you and decided you were hers.
Brunch turned into wine nights, which turned into yoga classes and impromptu shopping trips where you learned which women talked too much, which ones listened too closely, and which ones pretended not to notice everything while noticing everything.
You laughed when you were supposed to, touched arms at the right moments, let yourself be pulled into conversations about renovations and charity events and who was “having trouble in their marriage” this week.
You played the part. Perfectly.
But you also listened. And Julie talked, about Dex, about their marriage, about his schedule, the men he worked with, his "job".
About Fisk in a careful, vague way that told you she knew just enough to be useful and not enough to be dangerous.
Inside the house, however, nothing really changed. You were in bliss whenever Steve was anywhere outside of the five thousand square feet of the house. And in hell when you could hear his footsteps through the hallways.
“Why are your shoes in the middle of the hallway?” “Because I took them off.”
“You put a gun in the cereal cabinet.” “It was concealed.”
And yet, somewhere in between the arguing and the slammed cabinets and the pointed silences, you moved around each other.
Steve adjusted the cuff of his polo as he stepped out onto the green, the sun warm against the back of his neck, the grass trimmed so perfectly it almost didn’t look real. Somewhere in the distance, a fountain trickled softly—controlled, decorative, intentional.
Everything here was curated, including the people. Dex stood a few feet ahead, already mid-conversation with a Fisk, Steve immediately recognizing his big frame.
“Frank,” Dex called easily, turning just enough to wave him over. “Glad you made it.”
Steve walked up at an even pace, shoulders loose, posture relaxed, every movement deliberate in its lack of tension. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Dex clapped his hands lightly. “Let’s see if you actually know how to swing that thing.”
The game itself was uneventful on the surface, small talk, a couple of drinks over a few holes, business talk, the kind of conversation that never said anything directly but still managed to reveal everything if you knew how to listen.
Steve pretending to be worse than Fisk at golf remembering what Dex said about him not liking losing.
Well, who does? He thought.
He missed a shot he could’ve made here and there, fake grimace on his face to help sell the lie, burrow himself deeper in the web.
Dex talked the most—easy laughter, casual stories, the kind of man who filled silence before it could become uncomfortable.
Fisk didn’t, he was quieter, more measured. Almost amused.
By the ninth hole, Steve could feel the shift, the attention settling more fully onto him. He was past the evaluation phase and onto something else.
Fisk set his club aside after a clean shot, stepping back as one of the attendants moved to retrieve it. He didn’t look at Steve immediately, instead adjusting his cufflinks with slow, precise movements.
“Beautiful house you’ve got,” Fisk said finally.
Steve shrugged lightly, taking a swing of his beer. “Got lucky to swoop in right when it went on the market.”
Fisk hummed. “I find luck tends to favor the well-prepared.” Steve didn’t respond, Fisk’s gaze lifted then. “You and your wife settling in well?”
For some reason, hearing such a dangerous man mention you made him uneasy. And it shouldn't, because he hated you. Steve forced his expression to remain easy. “Yeah. She likes it here.” He paused for a second. “She’s… adjusting.”
Fisk’s lips curved slightly. “Is she?” Steve’s grip on the club in his hand tightened just a fraction.
Dex shifted beside them, glancing between the two, something quieter settling over his usual ease.
“You know,” Fisk continued, tone almost conversational, “I take a great interest in the people who choose to live in the neighborhood.”
Steve tilted his head slightly. “Seems like a lot of effort.”
Fisk chuckled softly. “It is if you don't have the… resources.”
Steve didn’t like the way he said that, didn’t like the weight behind it.
The back nine loosened things.
Or at least, that’s what it looked like.
Dex got louder, a little more relaxed with each hole, his posture easing into something casual as the game stretched on. Drinks appeared somewhere around the seventh—cold, expensive, handed off by staff who moved like ghosts—and by the tenth, the conversation had shifted.
Way less about business.
Dex snorted at something one of the other men—some hedge fund name Steve hadn’t bothered to remember—had said, shaking his head as he lined up his shot.
“I’m telling you,” the man continued, grinning like he thought he was hilarious, “if you’re doing it right, she’s not walking straight the next morning.”
One of the others chimed in with something worse, cruder. The kind of joke that got easy agreement and knowing looks passed around like currency.
Steve didn’t react, just stood there, one hand resting loosely on his club, gaze fixed somewhere out over the green like he wasn’t listening.
“C’mon, Adler,” Dex called, nudging him lightly with his elbow. “You’ve been real quiet over there.”
Steve glanced over, trying to seem unbothered. Like he didn't want to roll his eyes at everything coming out of that prick's mouth. “Just listening.”
“That’s not how this works,” the hedge fund guy said with a smirk. “You gotta contribute. You’re married, right?”
“Familiarity,” Fisk continued, almost thoughtfully, like he was discussing market trends instead of people, “breeds a certain ease.”
“Guess some guys are just more private.” Steve chimed, moving as to redirect the conversation, walking a couple steps to the next hole. "I don’t feel the need to talk about my wife like that."
Silence fell upon the group for a second, Dex interjected to change the subject quickly, but the way Fisk looked at Steve the rest of the time made he hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Steve unlocked the kitchen door, toeing his shoes off as soon as he stepped inside. The house was clean, marble countertops reflecting the golden light coming through the curtains.
A candle burned on the center island that made the house smell like a bouquet of fresh flowers, blooming in deepest winter.
The door clocked shit behind him with a soft, controlled click, as he called out "Babe?" while letting his keys rattle against the marble.
He stepped further into the kitchen, eyes sweeping automatically—back door locked, blinds angled just enough, nothing out of place. The cabinet he’d modified earlier sat closed, unassuming, hiding everything it needed to.
He called out for you again, "Sweetheart?", feet padding into the house and when he got to the bottom of the stairs, he heard the shower running on.
Steve's mind kept replaying the interactions he'd had that day, how Fisk seemed to have too much knowledge of his dynamic with you to not have—
Of course.
A man like Fisk wouldn't just intentionally have a blind side.
The motherfucker had surveillance on your house.
In your house.
The sound got clearer and clearer as he moved up the stairs. The hallway stretched ahead, quiet and sun-dimmed, and then right outside of the bathroom door, steam curling underneath it. Steve paused just outside it, his hand hovering near the frame, his head tilting slightly as he listened.
You were humming, soft and absentminded.
Like you weren’t in the middle of a mission that had just taken a very sharp turn.
He exhaled softly through his nose, dragging a hand down his face, fingers catching briefly on the tension sitting heavy there.
He should wait, he knew he should. Whatever he had to say could wait ten minutes.
Five.
Hell, two.
But the words Fisk had said—had implied—sat in his chest like a weight that refused to settle. So if Fisk had creepily put surveillance in your home like Steve was 98% sure he had, you were gonna have to roll with the punches.
Steam hit him immediately, warm and thick, fogging the edges of his vision for half a second before it cleared.
Stripping his shirt, kicking off the rest of his clothes in a blur of motion that would’ve felt ridiculous under any other circumstance.
He walked into the shower, watching you let the water trickle over you, over your face, your neck, your chest, and he thanked every God he could think of that his body was cooperating and he did not have more than a half-hard on right then and there.
Which meant that you finished rinsing your shampoo off and opened your eyes to find a very, very naked Steve Rogers encapsulated by the shower stall glass around you.
With you.
All naked, and very wet, and very naked, and—
"Ahh!" You shrieked in surprise, stumbling back half a step, water splashing over him as your hands came up instinctively. "What the f—" Steve put his index finger on his lips with one hand, the other motioning to his ear and out.
We're being listened to.
"Honey," You immediately switched into your undercover tone, "you scared the crap out of me!"
Steve stepped closer, couldn't risk his voice being any louder than absolutely necessary to get you the information right then and there.
His frame in comparison to yours felt even bigger now, steam curling around him like vines. You'd blame the way your nipples hardened at the sight on the water.
“Fisk,” he whispered, barely audible over the spray. “He knows something’s off. Pretty sure we’re wired. The house is.”
Your breath hitched.
Absolutely having nothing to do with the fact that you were trying very hard not to stare at his— "Where?"
"Everywhere." He confirmed.
Water ran down both of you in steady streams, heat curling between your bodies, steam thickening the air until everything felt too close.
“Well,” you murmured, louder now, just enough for anyone listening to catch it, your tone dipping into something softer, more playful, “next time, maybe knock?”
Steve huffed out a quiet breath that could almost pass for a laugh, his forehead dipping closer to yours, but not touching, droplets of water falling from his hair onto you.
“Didn’t think you’d mind.” One of your hands braced lightly against his chest, the other gripping his arm as if for balance.
Your hand slid up to the nape of his neck, pulling the hair there enough to make him hiss. “Oh, I mind,” you said lightly, your fingers threading just a little deeper into the short hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re lucky I like you.”
You were pretty good at… faking it.
Night settled over the house smoothly, the sun bleeding into deep indigo slowly and surely until stars littered the sky and you all you could hear was the fair sound of nature beyond the glass.
The neighborhood dimmed in stages—porch lights flicking on one by one, warm squares of yellow glowing through wide, uncovered windows. Somewhere down the street, laughter carried faintly. A dog barked once, then twice, then went quiet again.
As your brain processed the information Steve had given you, you moved through the motions anyway.
Teeth brushed. Face washed. Lights turned off and on in the right order. The kind of routine that would look normal from the outside, mundane and unremarkable to anyone paying attention.
The thought sat in the back of your mind, somewhat panicked and loud, but also a constant, steady pressure.
You dried your hands slowly on a towel, eyes flicking briefly to the mirror. Your reflection stared back—hair dried and silky, skin still warm from the shower, expression carefully neutral.
Steve stood near the dresser, back half-turned to you, pulling a t-shirt over his head. The fabric stretched sinf— normallyacross his shoulders before falling into place, softening the sharp lines of him into something more… domestic.
You watched him through the mirror without meaning to, picking up a book, turning on his bedside lamp, and crawling under the covers of your bed, letting the light comforter rest on his legs and hips while he flipped through the pages with his back resting against his pillows and the headboard.
You bit your lip, thoughts blooming fast and messy under your skull, and flicked the lights in the bathroom off, walking towards your side of the bed.
Your short camisole shifted through the air as you moved, light and soft, brushing against your thighs. Steve's eyes immediately clocking your bare legs before he forced them onto the words in front of him.
You laid onto your side and closed the distance between you in one smooth motion, your body fitting against his side like that's where it was always supposed to be.
Your arm slid across his waist, your cheek pressed lightly against the plane of his pecs, and you felt the very warm, solid, real muscle of him under your face go completely still.
Not in any subtle way, you could feel the exact moment his brain short-circuited.
He turned his face just enough to look down and meet your gaze. His expression screamed an unfiltered "what the hell?"while yours softly said "we have to sell it."
He shifted, turning just enough so he wasn’t facing away from you anymore, his arm coming up—hesitant for half a second—before settling around you, his hand resting on your forearm, thumb tracing soothing patterns on the soft, moisturized skin.
As you laid there, the cogs in your brain turned. You bit the inside of your cheek lightly, the more he believes it, the quicker we get out.
You moved forward, your hand pressed against his chest, using him for leverage as you pushed yourself up, swinging one leg over his hips in a smooth, deliberate motion until you were straddling him.
The poor book slid uselessly to rest on the mattress on the other side of his body. You nuzzled your face into his neck, pretending to pepper kisses on the skin there, and Steve stiffened up.
His hands instinctively came up, not grabbing or even stopping you, just hovering at your waist like he didn’t know where they were allowed to go.
Your mouth lingered by his pulse point just long enough to make it convincing before you spoke, your breath hot against his skin. "Play along." You whispered.
You felt the tension in him—every muscle coiled, controlled, restrained in a way that had nothing to do with the mission and everything to do with the position you’d just put him in.
“Sweetheart,” he said, louder now, his tone shifting seamlessly, to something warmer, rougher, like it belonged to someone else. “You trying to kill me?”
From the outside, it sounded like a joke. A husband amused by his wife.
You tilted your head, letting your lips ghost just below his ear. “You just been working so much lately,” you murmured, just loud enough to carry.
His grip on you flexed, and he leaned into it.
“I know, baby, I know,” he said, voice dropping, threading something you hadn’t heard from him since he had your face pressed into a sparring mat through it as his hands settled more firmly at your hips, anchoring you there. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Your stomach flipped, shameful heat pooling low in your core even though you tried to ignore it and call it by a different name.
His fingers pressed just slightly, grounding, guiding, selling the illusion with an ease that made your pulse stutter.
Steve moved, fast as always, one second you were on top of him, the next your back hit the mattress, making it dip hard beneath you as he flipped you with practiced ease, your breath catching as his weight settled above you, caging you in without quite touching.
His face dipped toward yours, close enough that your noses almost brushed.
“What you’re doing,” he murmured against your ear, his breath warm, controlled, “is reckless.”
Your fingers curled slightly into his shirt, heart beating too fast, and you tilted your head just enough to whisper back, your tone soft and teasing, so low he almost didn't hear it. “So is getting caught.”
You tilted your neck up, and your lips connected with his.
It had been weeks of little pecks, prim and proper kisses in front of your neighbors, just enough to sell it on the outside.
Holding his face in your hands and actually kissing Steve Rogers felt like a completely different experience.
His tongue licked into your mouth with an intention you never really expected from Steve. Specially a Steve that was faking it. Your hands roamed the plane of his shoulders, trying to make it seem like the actual rustling of sheets one would expect of a couple who was going to—
He should really take this shirt off.
And so your hands went to the hem of his white cotton shirt, pulling it up. Steve reluctantly let you take it off of him, leaving him only in the grey boxers that let you see he wasn't faking that much.
"Oh my God," You whispered. "Are you serious?" That was more of a hiss. Was he seriously getting hard right now?
"I know," He whispered back, annoyed, frustrated, "I know. Just shut up about it."
Oh.
He wanted you to shut up about it. He wanted you to—
The petty part of your brain took over, and before you couldn't think of a less reckless thing to do, you squeezed your legs tighter around him, bringing his bulge flush against your clothed pussy.
"O-oh—" Steve was surprised, not about the pettiness, but at the action itself. You bit your lip, almost proud of yourself, and tilted your hips up.
That earned you a scolding look.
"Mmm," you breathed, just loud enough to carry, your voice shifting instantly to a soft, breathy, higher pitched version of yourself. "Fuck, baby, right there."
Steve's ears were ringing. Mostly because he didn't know what to do with his hard cock rubbing up and down against you. “Relax,” you murmured against his jaw, barely moving your lips. “You sound like you’re filing paperwork.”
He huffed softly, turning it into something that passed. “Maybe I like paperwork,” he muttered.
You scoffed. “You do not.”
“You don’t know that.” He whined softly against you.
"You need to actually move your hips, Steve. Video needs to look like you're fucking your wife." You whispered in his ear.
It's not like he couldn't feel how wet you were, slick pressing through the cotton of your panties and onto his underwear, darkening a spot there.
“You’re unbelievable,” he breathed low, close to your ear.
“Say it louder,” you shot back quietly.
“You’re unbelievable,” he repeated, louder, tone shifting, like it meant something entirely different now.
Your heels dug into his ass cheeks, pulling him closer and closer to you, and closer and closer to the edge.
You could feel the length of him twitch with each pass of his hips, and you pictured the leaking head of him making a mess out of the inside of his boxers, precum slicking him all over.
“Okay—” he muttered quickly under his breath, breaking the moment before it could stretch too far. “We need a time frame. We can’t just—keep going forever.”
“Two minutes,” you whispered. “Make it believable.”
“Two minutes?” he echoed, actually offended. “That’s insulting.”
The thought of it sent heat down your core. His face was buried in your neck, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as your hands threaded through his hair. "Talk about me." Another perfectly placed thrust that nudged your clit. "'bout how I feel."
Steve grinded his teeth like he was fighting a mental battle between letting himself be consumed by this moment, and being proper.
You nudged him again with your heel.
"Nice and tight, sweetheart." He let his voice carry, surprisingly unwavering for how close he was. "Never get enough of your pussy."
What in the fuckity fuck?
Steve?
He almost said your name, your very real name, too lost in himself, letting his rhythm build up much too realistically, his thrusts deeper, the bulge now rubbing and nudging your clothed entrance as well.
Your could hear the sound of wet fabric shifting, your panties getting caught and letting one lip slip out of safety and closer to Steve's leaking cock.
"Frank," You said loudly, trying to catch his attention without success. "Frank." You tried again, more stern, being met with the same squeezed-shut eyes you tried to get an answer from. You dropped your voice low, hushed like a secret. "Steve."
That made him open his eyes, powder blue irises staring at you as his thursts hit a spot that had him moaning, stuttering over his own breath.
And spilling all inside his boxers, looking right into your eyes.
His hips stuttered, almost as if his body wanted to milk itself dry, and his breathing slowed.
You were speechless, big wide eyes looking up at him, genuinely not knowing what to say.
Both of you stared at each other in shock, horror, confusion as to why it felt so good to do that without someone who managed to get under your skin without even trying.
You stayed like that until you felt the warm trickle of his seed seep through the cotton of his boxers and onto the front of your panties.
Steve dropped back to his side of the bed, and both of you avoided each other's gaze, just staring at the ceiling.
"Are we—"
“…go to sleep,” you muttered.
Whatever Fisk needed proof of, seemingly he got it, since both you and Steve got invited the the biggest 4th of July bash of the neighborhood.
Right at the belly of the beast.
The whole backyard looked like something out of a magazine.
String lights draped across the perimeter, glowing warm against the deep navy of the night sky, fireworks already starting to crackle faintly in the distance.
The lawn stretched wide and immaculate, dotted with clusters of people holding drinks in delicate glasses, laughter spilling easily between them like nothing in the world could touch this place.
It was loud, busy, perfect, and underneath it all— wrong.
Steve had light wash jeans and a light blue polo on, you had a strapless summer dress and one of his linen shirts on, the shirt unbuttoned to give the air of a casual outing.
You stood near one of the long tables, fingers loosely wrapped around a Moscow Mule you hadn’t touched, your eyes scanning without looking like you were scanning. Steve was across the yard, pulled into a circle of men near the grill, one of them mid-story, the others laughing at something you couldn’t quite hear from this distance.
And there she was.
Blonde, tall, and much too interested in your— Steve.
Her hand landed on his arm like she’d been waiting for an excuse, your eyes narrowed at her as you shoved a piece of salami and cheese into your mouth.
“That's Sharon.” Julie’s voice chimed in beside you, far too cheerful for how observant she actually was. “She's new. Came to stay with her aunt a bit, they live a few strees back. Divorced. Which means she’s—”
“—looking,” you finished lightly, before finally taking a sip of your drink like you hadn’t already clocked every detail.
Julie laughed. “Exactly.”
Your eyes flicked back to Steve. He hadn’t moved away, hadn’t stepped back, hadn’t even noticed.
Of course he hadn’t.
He was listening—really listening—to whatever the man next to him was saying, nodding slightly, relaxed in that effortless way that made people lean in closer without thinking about it.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said, lowering her voice just enough to feel conspiratorial. “If he's anything like Dex, he's clueless. They don’t even realize when they’re being flirted with.”
You hummed softly. "He is clueless, alright."
“He’s very charming,” Julie added, watching you now instead of them. “Frank, I mean.”
Your lips curved. “He has his moments.”
Julie giggled, and you finished downing your drink, making your way to him, wrapping a hand around his perfectly sculped bicep and turning on your smile to the sweetest setting possible.
His body reacted immediately, adjusting to your touch like it always belonged there. His gaze dropped to you, surprise flickering for half a second before smoothing into something softer.
“Hey,” he said, one hand coming up to rest at your hip without thinking about it.
“Hi,” you replied, tilting your head up toward him, your smile warm in a way that felt almost too real. “Sorry,” you said sweetly, not sounding sorry at all. “Am I interrupting?”
She blinked, then smiled tightly back at you. “Not at all.” Steve’s hand pressed slightly into your hip, a silent question that you answered it by leaning just a fraction closer into him.
“We were just talking about the neighborhood,” she continued.
“Were you?” you asked, your tone light, but your grip on Steve tightening just enough to be felt.
“Oh—yes,” she said, glancing briefly at him. “Frank was just telling us about his work.”
“Mm,” you hummed, eyes flicking up to his. “He works too much.”
Steve’s brows lifted slightly. “Oh, I do?”
“You do,” you said simply, sighing longingly, your fingers sliding absently against his side like it was second nature. “I barely see you anymore.”
Sharon laughed softly. “That’s a shame.” Steve lifted the beer up to his lips and took a swing.
“It is,” you agreed, smiling again. “But I make sure he makes up for it.”
Steve choked on his drink. Actually choked. Coughed once, quickly covering it with a laugh that didn’t quite hide the surprise.
His hand flexed at your hip. “Yeah,” he said, voice dropping just slightly as he looked down at you, something new threading through it. “I do.”
For a moment it didn't feel like pretending, but it also didn't feel real. It felt like a limbo much too similar to five years ago, when he first recruited you into SHIELD by accident.
FIVE YEARS EARLIER
Colombia had been too hot. The humid, muggy weather made your skin sticky, a sheen coat of sweat all over your arms and legs, even though you were only wearing a white tanktop and a flowy, maxi floral skirt.
Music was bleeding from open windows, people crowding narrow streets, making it the kind of place where mistakes didn’t just cost you the mission.
They cost you everything.
You’d been handling it just fine, up until you weren’t. The intel had been wrong. Or incomplete. Or leaked.
You didn’t know which yet—only that the second you stepped into that dim, crowded cantina, something in your gut twisted. Too many eyes, too many men pretending to drink, too many sharp ears and even sharper looks.
You were planning an exit strategy, a way to get out of here with as few scratches and as many of these men killed. Mid counting how many thing you could use as a weapon, in walked a picture perfect specimen.
Muscles everywhere, blond hair lightened even more by the sun, the faintest sunburn across his nose and cheeks making his blue eyes stand out more.
You turned slightly, lifting your drink to your lips like you were just another woman trying to cool off, not someone seconds away from deciding how many people she might have to kill.
He clocked the men immediately.
And then he clocked you. His broad frame faked a smile at you and stepped quickly to stand beside you at the bar, hand resting on your hip.
“Don’t,” he muttered under his breath, pretending to try to get the bartender's attention.
“Don’t what?” you shot back just as quietly, adjusting your sunglasses on your head like you were annoyed at them and happy to see him, not seconds away from being cornered.
“They’re looking for someone,” he said.
“I know.” A beat where he leaned down to whisper in your ear.
“They’re closing exits.”
And you responded through gritted teeth and a smile. “I noticed.” You let your body rest closer to his, feeling the heat radiating off of him.
Outside, thunder and lightning started, and a summer storm came pouring down.
“Babe,” you said, loud enough to carry, tilting your head up at him like you were teasing. “You said one drink.”
He leaned into you, his hand sliding from your waist to your lower back, pulling you closer in a way that felt practiced.
“Yeah?” he shot back easily. “Thought you wanted to see more of the place.”
“Oh, I do,” you laughed lightly, fingers curling into his shirt. “Just… from inside a bedroom window right now." You leaned in closer, lowering your voice just enough to make it look intimate, like you were sharing something private instead of tracking his every movement.
“Relax your shoulders,” you murmured.
He huffed softly—almost a laugh, almost something else—and adjusted just slightly, his grip tightening at your lower back like he was settling into the role instead of fighting it.
A beat passed between you—quick, sharp, charged—and then he leaned in closer, his mouth ghosting just along your temple.
“Storm’s our out,” he whispered. “We gotta go.”
“Come on,” you said, tugging gently at his shirt, turning your body into his as thunder cracked loud enough to rattle the windows. “I am not ruining my hair for this.”
“Tragic,” he murmured, letting you pull him toward the back hallway.
The rain hit hard the second you stepped out of the main room—heavy, sudden, loud enough to drown out most of the noise behind you. The narrow corridor smelled like damp wood and cheap liquor, dimly lit and barely used.
Perfect.
Your hand stayed fisted in his shirt as you stumbled slightly—just enough to sell it—as he caught you, his arm tightening instinctively around your waist.
“Careful, sweetheart.” he said, louder now, for anyone who might still be listening. “You’re gonna slip.”
The back door burst open under his hand.
Rain poured down in sheets, warm and relentless, soaking the edges of your skirt instantly as you both stepped out into the alley behind the cantina.
Steve looked around to make sure no one followed, he kept you closer than necessary as you moved, your bodies angled into each other like you were shielding yourselves from the storm instead of disappearing into it.
One block, then another, until you were far away and safe in the back alley of the Sofitel. Your clothes were soaked, as were his, your shirt basically see through, you kept moving, pulling him down the short hallway and into the first unlocked door you found—some storage room or unused guest space, it didn’t matter.
The door shut behind you with a soft click. Steve walked in last, and you didn't put distance between you two, though right now looking at him through wet lashes you wish you did.
His eyes reflected the gloomy sky outside, his lips were pink and plump, and you felt yourself being drawn closer and closer to him, as did he.
The storm outside cracked again, lightning flashing briefly through the thin curtains, illuminating the space in stark white for half a second, loud thunder taking you out of your trance, Steve jerking away like he was burned.
"I, uh… I think we lost them." Your voice was shaky and unsure.
“Not bad,” he added, quieter now, his eyes flicking over your face like he was reassessing something.
You scoffed lightly. “High praise.”
PRESENT
“Fireworks are about to start,” someone called from across the yard.
And just like that, the moment broke, and your attentions turned to the mission at hand: while everyone is distracted, get into Fisk's office and copy all of his intel.
Steve leaned down slightly as people shifted away in the direction of the fireworks, his lips brushing near your ear, voice low. “You’re laying it on thick.”
“Am I?” you murmured back, sly smirk playing on your lips.
“A little.”
You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. "You should go for the office. I'll keep watch."
Steve looked at you like he wanted to say something, but nodded and snuck away, your eyes immediately making sure all persons of interest were accounted for and not in the office.
The party swelled around you.
Fireworks cracked overhead in bursts of red and gold, laughter spilling across Fisk’s perfectly manicured lawn, glasses clinking, music humming low beneath it all.
Steve had been gone for about five minutes when you noticed Dex was gone mid conversation with Claire and her husband Matthew. You saw the little flop of blonde hair make its way into the house and your blood ran cold.
Steve.
“I’m gonna grab another drink,” you said lightly, lifting your empty glass as proof, bee-lining up the stairs on the porch and to the kitchen.
You moved like you weren’t tracking footsteps that weren’t yours, counting seconds, mapping distance in your head.
You slipped inside through the side door, heels soft against polished floors, your breath steady even as your pulse kicked harder.
You moved faster, turning the corner just in time to see the office door slightly ajar, light spilling out onto the hallway, and footsteps approaching from the opposite direction.
You pushed the door open and slipped inside, Steve standing by the big mahogany table with a thumbdrive pluggesd into the desktop, downloading everything.
“What—”
“Dex,” you cut him off, already crossing the room. “Coming.” His expression shifted instantly, worry, anxiety, combat.
A shadow passed the crack of the door and you closed the distance between you, pushing yourself to sit on top of the table and pulled Steve to stand between your legs. Your hands grabbed his shirt, yanking him down toward you hard enough to make him stumble.
He exhaled harshly the second your lips touched, tasting the vanilla macadamia flavor of your lipgloss. Your tongue licked into his mouth and one of his hands found the plane of your back, the other bracing against the desk behind you as he backed you further into it, the impact soft but enough to sell it.
“Mm—” you exhaled softly, the sound slipping out before you could stop it.
Your fingers thread through his hair as you sighed against him, losing yourself in the cedarwood of his cologne, the taste of beer on his tongue, and—
The door creaked open lgithly with someone's breathy "oh." coming through at the sight.
You didn't pull away, didn't even flinch. If anything, you leaned in more, your body pressing fully into his, your mouth lingering just long enough to make the moment undeniable.
You heard a the sound of someone clearing their throat, and that made both of you break apart. Your lips brushed his once more before you turned your head, like you’d just noticed her. “Oh—” you said, a little breathless, but smiling.
“Sharon,” your eyes widened slightly when you looked behind you, a flush creeping into your expression like you’d been caught.
Her gaze drifted from his hands on you to the hem of your summer dress, pulled up and draped high on your thighs, then up to your hands in his hair and Steve's face — his expression a mix of very confused, flustered, and fucked out.
Steve cleared his throat, stepping back just slightly, like he was trying to recover something that had already slipped.
“We were just—”
“—busy,” you finished easily, sliding off the desk but not moving far from him.
“…right,” she said after a second, her lips pressing into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Well, enjoy the, uh… the party."
You stifled a laugh, biting your lip, as she walked away leaving the door open behind her. You hopped off the desk as Steve got his brain working again.
“What the hell was that?” His voice cut through it, low and sharp.
You shrugged. "Saved your ass, you're welcome." You smoothed the hem of your dress against your thighs and walked around the desk, making your way out the door as Steve hushedly called out for you, swiming the thumb drive into his pocket before following you out of the house.
Your heels hit the pavement in sharp, even beats, your jaw locked, your eyes fixed straight ahead like if you didn’t look back, he wouldn’t follow.
Fuck him and his long legs that caught up to you as soon as you reached your lawn.
You stormed into your kitchen, pushing the door closed quicky to slam it behind you, but making it hit Steve on the shoulder as he crowded the space behind you. “Hey—” he pushed still, stepping closer. “No, seriously. What was that?”
You still gave him nothing, your jaw tightened. You stood with your back to the kitchen island, fingers gripping the marble, biting your own cheek. Your gaze stayed anywhere but him.
“That wasn’t about getting caught,” he said. “You knew she—” Then it seemed to dawn on him. “You kissed me to make her jealous.” His voice was incredulous, almost like he solved a decade long mystery right then and there. "You were jealous."
You scoffed, still not meeting his eye. "Jealous? Over you? Plea—"
He crowded you even more now, bending down to look for your gaze and force you to meet his, sly smile playing on his lips. "You were jealous."
You huffed, finally looking into his eyes, sunlight playing on his face making the blue just a tad lighter. Steve had his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, almost waiting for a response from you.
For what it felt like a second and a day all at once, your brain went numb.
And then your hands were on each side of his face, bringing his lips to crash into yours.
Steve's lips were warm against your mouth in the same way they were minutes ago. He stepped forward, towering over you making you tilt your head up to keep the kiss going, his hands grabbing your hips as he pressed you against the counter.
He licked into your mouth and your hands fell to the nape of his neck, his shoulders, and finally his arms.
Steve leaned over, pushing you back further, until you had no more oxygen to burn in your lungs and you broke the kiss, making him kiss your jaw, below your ear, and down your neck. "You had no reason to be jealous, you know."
He grinded his hips against yours, letting you feel the length of him hardening by the minute. "'M not jealous." You felt underwater, dizzy, borderline having fuzzies in your vision.
Steve chuckled against your neck, the warm breath making shivers run down your spine, his hands dropping to graze outside of your thighs. "Mmhmm." His right hand brushed over your thigh and made it way to your core, tickling the skin of your inner thigh.
His fingers quickly found the wet spot on the front of your underwear, kissing his way back towards your lips. When he pressed deep circled into it, he felt you sigh into his mouth.
"Steve… People might see…"
"Don't care" he pressed his fingers harder, until your hips were bucking to get more friction, and you were whining against him. Words came muffled against your mouth. "Not jealous, huh? Didn't want me a single bit, right?"
You scoffed despite youself, "You're the one that came into your pants the other day."
That did it.
Skin to skin. His rough fingers sliding through your soaked slit, dragging your arousal across your folds, teasing you right at the entrance. You broke off mid-sentence, a soft whimper catching in your throat.
His thumb easily found your clit, and one of your hands squeezed around his bicep while the other pulled at the hair at the nape of his neck, your moans getting breathier and breathier by the minute.
His fingers thrusted in and out of you bringing you to an edge so close you could taste it, letting out little pants by the crook of his neck, inflating Steve's ego, making more blood rush south. "Wanna try that again?"
He curled them just right, your slick coating his knuckles as your hips twitched against his hand.
Your head fell back, lips parting on a desperate moan. "N-not jealous…" through gritted teeth, making him click his tongue.
"Suit yourself." And just like that, his fingers were gone, slick mess on your thighs and an unsatisfied beast inside of you.
"Steve, what the—"
He pulled away the slightest bit and bent down, lacing his arm around your legs and throwing you over his shoulder, walking away in the direction of the stairs.
Steve nudged your bedroom door open once you got upstairs and flopped you down on the bed, making you bounce on the mattress.
He hovered over you, settling between your legs and rubbing the heat of him against you, while one if his hands snuck to the back of your dress and pulled the zipper down. He pulled the clothing item down your body as he kissed the same path, and soon you were only in his shirt and a thong.
Your legs opened to accommodate him further, thighs falling to your sides, and he slotted himself chest to mattress, lips barely an inch away from your pussy. Steve kissed your inner thigh once, then again, and your fingers threaded through his hair.
"She's wetter than that night," He spoke softly, but his voice had a dark tone to it, blue eyes staring up at you. "Can't blame me from coming in my boxers when," and a bite to your flesh. "you were grinding a wet spot onto me, honey."
Fuck him and that nickname.
His middle finger came to curl beyond the hem, pulling the sticky wet fabric down your thighs, and both of his thumbs spread your lips, watching your hole clench around nothing.
His gaze once again reached yours, almost asking for permission.
You didn't seem to be able to find it in you to say anything, not a single word but a quiet "Please." leaving your lips.
The second his tongue touched your slit, you were all the way back in that mission in Colombia. Wet, horny, and almost begging him.
At the first taste of you, one would think Steve got possessed, quickly settling further into the mattress and wrapping his arms around your thighs, holding them open. "F-fuck, Steve—"
He groaned against you, the vibration going through you like electricity through water. His tongue traced your entrance, nose nudging your clit, and your back arched off the bed slightly, pushing your hips closer to his face.
Steve's fingers pressed against the tops of your thighs with bruising strength, not that you minded.
Not at all.
He licked zigzag patterens up and down your slit, and then would circle your clit with his tongue, sucking the nerves into his mouth and flicking it. "O-oh my God."
He chuckled into you, "Stop squirming."
Like you could help it. Like it was your damn fault he let Sharon touch him and flirt with him and all but forced you to make sure everyone bought this sham of a marriage.
"Easier— fuck me, easier said than done, Rogers." Your nails scratched deeper into his scalp.
Steve angled his head differently so he could tense his tongue and fuck you while his thumb moved from your thigh to rub quick circles onto your clit.
Your thighs closed around his head, eyes squeezing shut as you heard him breathe heavy against you. Steve's other hand landed on your breast, kneading the skin there, pinching and pulling a nipple drawing a mewl out of you.
"Steve, Steve, I'm— fuck, I'm gonna—"
You really shouldn't have told him, though he'd know you were close judging by the little flutters of your walls around his tongue.
He pulled away harshly, chin slick and lips swollen, his hair a mess from you running your fingers through it.
He stood by the foot of the bed, stripping down to nothing watching your dumbfounded fucked out expression. Your hair was matted, your nipples were hard, and there was a wet spot on the white comforter under you.
In front of you, though, stood 230lbs of pure, unadultered, perfectly sculped by God, blond 100% American Prime Steve Rogers.
Standing naked, tall, thick and proud.
And hard.
Your mouth salivated at the sight, looking at the leaking head of him appear and disappear inside his fist with each slick stroke he gave himself. Steve caught your ankle with his other hand, and pulled you to the edge of the bed, your toes touching the soft carpet of the bedroom.
He turned you around, fingers gripping the linen of his shirt you had on, dragging it down your arms but not over your wrists, twisting the fabric around his own fist.
And just like that, you were face and shoulders down on the mattress with your wrists tied behind you, feeling him rub the head of his cock up and down your puffy slit, coating himself in your wetness.
Steve heard a muffled whine from you, any words being impacted by the fabric of the bedding, "What was that, sweetheart?" He leaned over you, the tip of him notching just a smidge further.
You turned your head to the side. "Steve, please…"
He clicked his tongue again. "No, you didn't want me, remember? Think I shouldn't even be doing this to you."
He motioned to pull out and you whined louder. "She— she was all o-over you…" Tears pricked your eyes from the pressure in your chest, from the ache between your legs, from the desperation of being kept at the edge.
“Steve, please put it in…”
"Yeah?" He gave you the cue to keep going, pushing in unbearably slow and barely any.
You nodded against the mattress. "Pissed me off." You gulped. "Please, please don't leave me like this…"
"All you had to do was stop being such a brat about it."
And then he thrust in enough to knock the air out of your lungs. The squelch of his cock pushing into you was obscene. And in your mind every inch he pushed after that thrust had one though going through your head:
There's more?!
"Oh God…"
That made Steve chuckle. "Just me, baby."
"Is— is it all in?" Your voice trembled, and if you had a mirror you'd see Steve's evil smirk as he dragged your wrists down to where your bodies connected, arching your back and hurting you with the stretch, only to wrap your delicate hands around what was left of him.
"Barely half." He grunted.
You whimpered, both in fear and anticipation, and Steve took the queue to push the rest of the way through, until your hand was flat on his pelvis, and then he let you rest against the mattress again.
"So fucking good." He gave a couple tentative thrusts. "Can feel you gripping me like you don't wanna let me go."
You moaned at the feel of him hitting that sweet spot inside of you, making your eyes roll. "So— hah! Good, Steve…"
After he felt your pussy get used to the size of him, that when he really stopped playing nice.
You could feel every ridge of him, every vein, the length of him pulsing and pulsing inside of you, throbbing against the spongy spot that made you see stars.
“Steve, please, please let me—“
Another harsh thrust interrupted you. “Tell me the truth then.”
You whimpered. The bastard was really going to make you admit it.
As you tried to think through it, brainless as you were, he slowed down, and down, until you could feel the pulse of his cock inside of you just as he could feel your walls flutter around him.
You whimpered, cheeks blushing at the thought. “I was jealous! I was jealous, okay?!” You pushed your hips into him, chasing friction harder, deeper.
“She thought she could have you and— and—“ He picked up the pace, your brain mush as your neck strained to keep your voice from being muffled. “And you’re my— Oh— oh my God!”
“Yeah?” Steve leaned over you, fingers finding your clit with ease. “I’m your what?”
You could cry. You could cry right no— oh you had tears streaming from your eyes onto the bedding. “Steve…”
His eyes rolled to the back of his head.
“That’s right, I’m your Steve.” His fingers picked up speed as did his hips, lips kissing your shoulder blade. “Come for me, pretty girl. Come all over my cock.”
“Mmmmngghhh—“ your vision went white, your body clenching tight around him and pulsing, as your moans got drowned out outside by the fireworks still going.
Steve slammed his hips deeper into you, to the point of almost painful, muttering curse words in sequence of “fuck, fuck, fuck.” until you felt him spill thick ropes of cum inside of you, filling you up until it dripped onto the floor.
As you both caught your breaths, you heard the wet schlick of him pulling out, dropping himself on the bed with a bounce.
After a minute, you spoke. "There's gonna be so much paperwork to explain all this..."
He looked at an imaginary watch on his wrist, turning to you with that boyish smile of his, sheen coat of sweat on his chest and hairline. “Got time for a couple more rounds before all that. You tapped out?”
You smirked at him, using your arms to push yourself up, hands on his chest for leverage as you straddled him, slick pussy on top of his hardening cock.
“I could do this all day, Cap.”
final thoughts: this started as me and Maddie just thirsting over the shower scene, and then... yeah... heh
dick grayson manhandles you during sex in such a way that the sounds coming out of your mouth are outright embarrassing. he’s pressing you into the meanest, nastiest mating press, his thick ass dick reaching places you didn’t even think were possible, and it’s forcing the ugliest, most embarrassing noises from your pretty little throat.
and yes, he’s mocking you with them. he’s repeating those ugly ass sounds with a giggle.
The concept of your username having "ebony" in it & you think people won't assume you're black??? Like what did you think was going to happen????😭 you should know better in the big two six im not gonna hold you
♯ Jermajesty Jackson x OFmodelgf!reader series m.list
“Mmhmm,” you push at his head. “Maj.” you whine, brows furrowed as you pout.
He hums against your clit, eyes low and full of lust as he looks up at you. “Yeah mama?” He mumbles as he runs his hands over your thighs, giving you a soft and reassuring squeeze.
You moan, letting out a weak cry as your eyes roll back, his tongue steady abusing your slit. “You eat me so good..” you whimper, eyes watering from just how good you felt.
He grins against your pussy, giving it a few kisses before he’s looking at you again. “Yeah baby?” The tone is his voice teasing and low.
You nod, completely dazed. “Yeah..”
He just shakes his head with a smile before diving back in, eating you out like never before.
“Oh m’god,” you mewl, whining loudly as you try to turn your body away from the overwhelming sensation. Your thighs fight to close, legs shaking as Jermajesty holds them down.
“M’so close pa,” you moan, nails running over his head as you bite your lip. He groans against your clit, tongue fucking you even slower. “Gimme that shit bae.”
“Hnnh. .should eat me like this for a video—“
Jermajesty smacks his lips, your little comment instantly throwing him off causing him to shoot up. “Man watch out.” he mutters as he walks around the bed, shaking his head.
You gasp at the lost feeling glaring up at him as he licks his lips and wipes his mouth. “Whattt!” You whine.
“Just threw me all the way off talking about a fucking video. Better play with your pussy or sum.”
“You really gon stop cause I said that?!” You question as you sit up. But you notice him ignoring you. “Bae!” You shout and throw your hands up.
“Yep.” He answers simply, sliding your leg over as he sits in the bed next to you, turning the tv back on.
You frown, looking over at him. “You really hate the idea of filming with me that bad!? Okay I won’t say nothing, just come back.” You whine, pulling at his arm.
“Mm-nn,” he shakes his head and grabs his snacks off the nightstand before beginning to eat them.
You whine, honestly only mad because he stopped munching on you.
“Okay I won’t mention it again, can you just—“ he covers your mouth with a hand, shushing you as you lean back against the pillows, pouting.
He brings a chip to your mouth and you eat it, nearly biting his fingers off as you glare at him.
“You such a buzzkill,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest and forcing yourself to watch the movie as he places a kiss to your cheek.
kissmyglxck — don’t copy my work, ask to translate, & if you recreate anything pls tag me <3
Having an alien boyfriend with super strength means having to go through bed frames faster than the average person .ᐟ ꫂ᭪݁.
Your bed frame from a month ago was the first casualty, splintering like matchsticks under Clark’s grip as you rode him, your thighs clamped around his hips, and your walls fluttering greedily around every thick inch of his dick. The crack of wood had startled you both—until it didn’t. By the third ruined frame, you were laughing mid-moan, forehead pressed to his as he growled apologies between thrusts that still managed to punch the breath from your lungs.
But after the seventh one—some poor reinforced steel thing that had lasted all of nine minutes—you’d barely caught your breath before Clark flipped you beneath him, caging you with his massive body. “No more headboards,” he muttered, voice rough as gravel. One hand slid under your ass, the other wrapped around your back, and he simply held you.
Suspended and completely at his mercy. You felt weightless, yet every brutal snap of his hips drove him impossibly deeper. No creaking wood, no splintering slats, all you could hear was the wet slap of skin, your broken little cries, and the low rumble in his chest as he fucked you like he was trying to imprint himself into your soul.
“Fuck- Clark—” Your nails raked down his invulnerable back, uselessly. He didn’t even flinch. Just tightened his grip, one arm banded across your spine, the other hand splayed between your shoulder blades so you were pressed flush to him, tits crushed against his chest, clit grinding against his pelvis with every devastating stroke.
“You feel so good,” he groaned against your throat, fangs—fangs, because he was losing control—grazing your pulse. “So fucking tight. Milking me. I can feel every pulse, every twitch… I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.” Your legs locked around his waist, heels digging into the perfect curve of his ass as he drove you higher and higher.
No leverage for you to move, no escape. Clark’s impossible strength kept you right where he wanted you while he ruined you from the inside out. When you came, it hit like a supernova—back arching, cunt clamping down so hard he snarled and stuttered, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled deep inside you, hot and endless.
He didn’t let you go even after. Just held you there, still buried inside your twitching heat, rocking slow and lazy while you trembled in his arms. “Next time,” he whispered, kissing the tears from your lashes, “I’m fucking you against the wall. Or in the air. Somewhere I don’t have to worry about breaking anything but you.”
You laughed, breathless and blissed-out, clenching around him again just to hear that wrecked sound he made. “Promise?”
Contains: explicit content, strong language, black reader, going in raw(safe sex is great sex), squirting, choking.
Summary: Things are getting heated until you realize….theres no condom. Welp only one other option(perhaps the wrong one)
Now playing: Exchange - Bryson Tiller
The sounds of kissing filled the room, as your hands trailed all over each other's body. "C'mon we need to hurry before my brother get back." Jermajesty mumbled.
He laid you flat on the bed and began to kiss your neck. You bit your lip letting out small moans as the small wet kisses he left made you soaked.
You felt his hands reach for your waistband tugging them down, lips not stopping its frantic press against your neck. Your leggings and panties came down, landing on the carpet.
His lips met yours, moans letting out in each other's mouths, lustful desires reaching an all time high. You didn’t even notice he took his dick out from its tight confines, he stroked it a few times ready to put it in before he stopped.
Your eyes opened once he pulled away, feeling him stiffen above you. "What's wrong?" You asked, concern etched into your face. "I don't got a condom, ma." He groaned tossing his head back.
In all honesty, you weren't trying to hear all that.
Only thing on your mind was getting him inside you, any means necessary. "Just pull out." You told him and he looked at you as if you said you killed someone.
"You know you don't have birth control right?" His eyebrow raised. You rolled your eyes, "Just do it please." You wanted to give him a bit more encouragement so you spread your legs for him. You proceeded to hold them farther back giving him a clear view of your wet pussy.
He licked his lips, still feeling a bit hesitant but absolutely seduced right now. “Fine.” He sighed swallowing nervously, even when he’s used a condom it feels like heaven. He can’t even imagine how it would be raw.
As soon as his tip met your folds he wanted to moan. He leaned over and you held onto his biceps as he eased in making you gasp. “Oh my god.” He whispered, eyes closing.
The way your warm walls enclosed him could’ve made him cry in that moment. Your back arched as he stretched you out, without a condom you could feel how warm and thick he actually was.
“Fuck.” You muttered as he began to drag in and out of your pussy. The bliss you guys shared felt untouchable, feeling as if you were in your own world. “Shit ma, you feel too fuckin’ good.” He moaned.
He replaced your hands and held your legs back himself as his hips picked up speed. His hips slapped against your ass, your moans becoming high pitched.
The feeling of him going in raw made your mind fuzzy. The pressure from his dick hitting deep made your legs naturally try to close. He didn’t hesitate to tighten his grip “keep ‘em open ma, you doing good baby.”
He bent down, connecting your lips as he pumped every inch into you. The squelching noises were loud, heightening your senses. He reached between your moving bodies, his thumb finding your clit.
He rubbed tight circles against it, and he groaned feeling you clench around him. “Fuck ma, don’t do that shit, ‘bout to make me nut.” He didn’t stop his movements, on the chase to make you cum around him.
His other hand went up to grip your neck, making your eyes roll back. “I-I’m close.” You whimpered, as soon as those words dropped from your lips he pulled out.
“Maj what the f-” you were cut off by him flipping you over and picking your hips up. He swiftly entered you again, your arousal allowing no struggle.
“Oh my goddd, shit!” You cried out, hands bunching the sheets beneath you. You were absolutely on cloud 9. Jermajesty watched your ass ripple against him feeling his balls slap against your clit.
“Take that shit.” He said with a slap on your ass. His natural dirty talk only spurred you farther into an incoming orgasm. “You close ma?” He asked and you nodded, not being able to respond.
“Lemme see you cream on it baby.” He set his foot on the bed and repeatedly pulled you all the way back to the base of his dick. He felt so much more deeper causing the little bit of control you had to disperse.
You began to gush around him, body shaking as you couldnt hold your strong orgasm. Your moans increased in volume, feeling a bit light-headed. He groaned, grip tightening around your waist watching your cream spread around his dick.
“Give me one more ma.” He reached down to rub at your clit quickly sending you into another intense orgasm. Instead of creaming again, you let out a stream of squirt, wetting up his dick and abdomen.
The sight turned him on like no other, hearing your whines and seeing your legs shake from sensitivity.
“I’m bout to nut.” He warned, speeding up his thrust. Even though you just came you couldn’t help but want more. You pushed your ass back against him quickly, matching his thrusts.
“Oh shit!” He quickly pulled out stroking his length as spurts of cum landed on your ass.
“See this why I can’t fool with you. Almost made us parents.”
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: riding Jaafar in the most softest sweetest way while he talks you through it.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut MDNI 18+, riding, praise, lots of fluff, fem!reader.
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this literally came to me in a dream so enjoy😭
You were sat on his lap, your mouth pressed against his in a soft kiss, one of your hands trailing down his bare chest as you slowly rocked on his lap.
Soft moans filled both of your mouths, still pressed together but no longer kissing, resting as if it was the only thing keeping you both grounded.
One hand cradled your cheek in his palm, while the other splayed across your lower back, a moan ghosting across your lips as he slowly thrusted to meet your bounces.
“You’re so perfect..” he whispered against your mouth, pressing his forehead against yours, leaving another soft kiss on your lips.
Your lips trailed down his neck as he groaned, his fingers digging into your back, pulling you as close as he could, titling your chin and kissing you again.
You moaned into his mouth as he guided you to bounce harder, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth, grinning against your lips as your moans got louder.
“That’s the spot huh..?” He murmured against your mouth, rubbing his thumb on your cheek.
You nodded, whimpering as he pulled your bottom lip with his thumb, gently rubbing it.
“come on sweet girl.. cum for me..” he whispered and captured your lips in another deep kiss.
You moaned into his mouth, grinding your hips deeply against his as your legs shook, cumming on his cock with a whine.
The hand that was on your cheek moved to the back of head, holding you against him as you collapsed, moaning softly as he continued thrusting up into you.
Finally with a hoarse groan he stiffened, his hips jerking as his eyes rolled back, a soft moan escaping your lips as you felt his cum fill you up.
His head slumped back against the couch, his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath, his hand softly rubbing your back.
Your head stayed on his chest, leaving soft kisses as you both came down, neither of you wanting to move just yet.
“So perfect.. my gorgeous girl..” he murmured, leaning down to give you one last kiss.
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: and that’s the end! If you read this far thank you, it’s been ages since I wrote and I can’t wait to start doing it again!
synopsis ⁀➷ the way you speak to aaron drives him insane.
song of chapter ⁀➷ ‘let’s make love’ by silk.
word count + warnings ⁀➷ 645 || 18+, nsfw content, no minors! dirty talk, doggystyle, foul language, pet names, cumming inside.
‘toss your body back and forth, so i can watch you ride.’
ᥫ᭡
you were a danger to aaron’s entire existence.
aaron often found himself breathless while in the act with you. his vision shifting as he gazed down to watch, mouth hung open in silent pleasure and surprise, as your heavy ass bounced back against his hips.
you left him speechless.
nowhere near a pillow princess, you worked hard to receive what was yours. reaching back every so often to pull him closer, needing to feel his skin against yours, holding your ass cheeks open to make him dive deeper inside—-and your mouth…? aaron could barely find the words to describe the number you did on him. he was only able to rock forward in shock as you moaned out the filthiest things to him.
“stretch me open, baby, i want you to fuck me good, daddy. can you please, baby, please, please?”
“fuckkk,” he physically shivers, as the sounds you make mixed with the sight of your messy pussy is near fatal. “why you talkin’ to me like that, mama? why you sound so fuckin’ good?”
“cause you fuckin’ me so good, baby, oh my goodness. you feel so good inside of me.”
“this pussy got me losing my mind, girl. you got me fuckin’ stuck.”
there’s a sound of a laugh and moan as you continue to throw your ass back on aaron. your face is muffled behind fluffy pillows, your arms tucked underneath them as you take all that aaron gives you.
“want you to fuck me up, want you rough with me, aaron. please aaron, please fuck me harder, daddy.”
“shit, you a nasty ass bitch. you talking so fuckin’ crazy and this pussy soakin’ me all the way up. you want me to beat that pussy up, want me to tear this lil shit up?”
“yea, aaron. want you to pound me so good. i want it so bad, i need it so bad. want that dick in me deeper, baby.”
you’re going on a nonsensical rant, so horny and ready to cum that you have no clue what you’re talking about. aaron exhales, shaking his head while trying to think clearer. folding his lips inward, his hands grip your hips with enough strength to leave marks, but you mind none because aaron’s doing what you requested.
as he moves with more force, you cry out into the pillow while your eyes roll into the back of your skull. “yessss, baby, yessss, fuck—fuck me just like that, aaron, just like that, daddy. you’re fucking me so good, oh my god!”
and aaron’s silent up to this point—unable to hold in his moans, aaron cries out brokenly. gasping and groaning as he attempts to pull out and nut over your ass, but your hand around his and the words you utter out make him pause.
“cum in me, baby, i want you in me, aaron. i want you dripping out of me, daddy, please, please.”
“ahhh, ohhh, fuckkk,” aaron can hardly breathe, mindlessly doing as you plead by staying inside your already wet pussy and fucking his cum into you until you’re both moaning out in satisfaction.
aaron’s entire weight crushes when he falls onto you, trying to catch his breath as you both are spent from the heated moment.
“goddamn, y/n.”
he chuckles and you do the same, ass still raised in the air, as he slowly pulls out of you. aaron takes his time and watches in admiration as his hot sperm spills out of your pussy and onto the mattress. a fucking mess, but he loves it.
“so fucking good, girl,” he smacks your ass while your pussy clenches, emptying the last of his nut out. you begin to shake your ass in a teasing manner, and aaron’s groaning and growing hard once again.
Can you pls write something about jermajesty Jackson!💕
suck it up ❥ jermajesty jackson
PAIRING: jermajesty jackson x player!black!fem!reader
SUMMARY: inspired by “Suck It Up” by Monaleo + this edit + this edit as well + in which Jermajesty is one of the men on your roster that you see from time to time to either hang out with or get your rocks off. however, when one of Jermajesty’s exes suddenly reappears in his life to try and get him back by exposing your relationship with him and by dragging your name through the mud, you make it your mission to give her a piece of your mind — and to give Jermajesty a piece of something else just to piss her off further. 🩷
AUTHOR’S NOTE #1: also inspired by “Big Ole Freak” by Megan Thee Stallion (“nobody know, i fuck with him on the low. we never show up together, but i text him when i’m ready to go.”) ✨
AUTHOR’S NOTE #2: can you tell i had a lot of fun writing this? 🤭 LMAOOOOO enjoy!! 💐
TAGLIST (click here to be added!): @pinkkycherrish @hismainchic @laniiimariee3 @junkie05 @buckybarnessweetheart @h3avenlyglory @soimightlikeoldmen69 @fifi-asco @chaotuics @arithescorpio @myhobari @niyahctrl @somenichegirl @mxnijuana @freshbonggwater @spencerreidismyhusband123 @mrsj4cks0n @liyahhsnuckhere @vampsbayou @watamotee33 @delictezz @bbcouture-69 @enzo6ekiiii 🩷
“these bitches be peasants, just address as me as your majesty.” + “you sure that’s your nigga? ‘cause i really can’t tell. not by the way he be calling my cell.” + “and stop calling that nigga phone while we together. he busy, bitch.”
you were never a monogamous type of woman. maybe during your teen years, but as you grew older, you thought the idea of committing to just one man was essentially useless. why let one man lock you down when you could go have fun with as many as you wanted?
that’s exactly how you’ve been spending your time lately — with a phone full of various sexy and incredibly easy men who would drop everything the second you wanted something, no matter what it was that you wanted from them. you were gorgeous in the face, a 10 in your physique, and your sex game was top tier, so who wouldn’t want to run to you as soon as you called?
you’d always tell yourself not to pick favorites in your roster and just continue to use them freely without showing one more attention than the others… but after you met Jermajesty, all of that flew out of the window quicker than you initially wanted it to.
you didn’t get attached to him, nor did you drop the rest of your hoes for him, but you did start to ignore them a bit more than usual and pick Jermajesty over them. it wasn’t intentional at all, but after the first time you slept with him, you started craving him more than you’d usually crave other men on your roster, which honestly freaked you out a little because it had never happened to you before.
you didn’t want to end up catching feelings for him and you didn’t want him catching feelings for you because you knew exactly how that would go, especially since you’ve had to cut off a few of your old hoes in the past for catching feelings. Jermajesty knew what kind of woman you were when he met you, so you hoped he wasn’t the type to try and change who you were — mainly because it wouldn’t work.
things between you, Jermajesty, and your other hoes had been going smoothly lately until… well, until his weird ass ex decided that she wanted him back and completely exposed your relationship with him on her Instagram story today while also simultaneously putting you on blast, causing the blogs to be all over your asses.
it was obvious she either stalked you or had someone else stalk you for her because the photo she shared of you two with her defamation post was from two weeks ago — the first and last time you and Jermajesty went in public together. it was a photo of the two of you hand-in-hand walking into a movie theater together, your faces as visible as day with identical grins.
unfortunately, that was the moment shit started to go downhill. your phone blew up the moment you were posted on blogs holding another man’s hand, your other hoes and your friends texting you all at once to talk about the controversy happening and understand what the hell was happening.
you were struggling to reply to everybody’s overwhelming spew of messages while also plotting to get on Jermajesty’s ex for telling your business, but the moment some of the men on your roster cut you off because of the fake news, it sent you on an incredibly disrespectful rant on your Instagram live in retaliation to her lies earlier today — specifically, an hour ago.
“you too busy watchin’ where my pussy goin’ instead of gettin’ a fuckin’ hobby, you dumb ass bitch,” you scoffed as your eyebrows furrowed and you crossed your arms, glaring at your propped-up phone, “i don’t give a fuck who y’all seen me with and where you saw me with ‘em, i’m single as hell. fuck what the blogs say and fuck whatever she say, she don’t even know me like that!”
“she got all this disrespectful ass shit to say about me just because i’m fuckin’ on her ex— he is not your damn boyfriend!” you exclaimed as your face slightly scrunched up and you laughed bitterly, “shit, as far as i’m concerned, whatever problem you have is with him, not me!”
“then this ho had the nerve to try and call me ‘miss community pussy’… ooh, i swear i almost told her somethin’. bitch, i’m young and real sexy, i can have a roster if i want to, the fuck?” you scoffed lightly as your eyes briefly scanned the comments in your live and you watched the viewer count continue to skyrocket, “talkin’ all kinds of shit about my pussy, but your ex love to bury his face in my shit on a daily basis, so what’s really tea? it’s givinggg that you mad ‘cause your pussy don’t pop like mine, boo.”
“oh!— and another thing! stop fuckin’ sneakin’ pictures of me when i’m out in public, you creepy ass ho, because i can be outside with whoever the fuck i damn well please! shit, i could be with your baby daddy tomorrow night if you got one!” you exclaimed with a snort of amusement as you rested your hands on your hips, “don’t let this social media shit gas your head up and get your ass beat ‘cause i don’t play these types of games with nobody.”
“somebody just commented ‘idk sis, that whole post felt like some cockblocking shit’— because it literally was, bro, i’m tellin’ y’all! this bitch literally made almost all of my other niggas cut me off with this bullshit!” you exclaimed with a dry laugh as you slightly flailed your arms, “like, why are you so worried about me and what i do in my private time?! and why the hell are you so worried about what your ex got goin’ on and who they fuckin’ on now?! y’all, i really don’t think this weird bitch got a job or some shit ‘cause it’s gettin’ real spooky out here…”
before you could continue giving his ex a big piece of your mind that would ultimately end up with your Instagram being either taken down or restricted, you ended up getting a FaceTime from Jermajesty mid-live, which you quickly accepted and ended your live without saying anything else. the minute the call connected, Jermajesty popped up with a slight clench in his jaw and his eyes slightly darker than usual, his expression giving away his feelings of frustration.
the call was shorter than your usual FaceTimes, but the last thing Jermajesty said to you was “don’t post or say nothin’ else to her ass. i’ma be at your house in an hour.” before the call abruptly ended and left you standing in your home in deafening silence.
you were a bit amused by the angry change in his demeanor, honestly finding it sexy that his ex badmouthing you had completely thrown off his mood and made him want to defend your honor, even if the two of you weren’t together.
it didn’t make you any less frustrated though because all of the drama his ex caused over that photo made your roster drop from high to low in the short span of just two hours, only three of them — including Jermajesty — remaining by your side through the ongoing conflict.
luckily for you, that hour you spent alone and off of social media flew by quicker than you expected it to because it led to where you are now: getting up from the couch to answer the front door.
unlocking and pulling the door open, you rested your other hand on your hip as you looked up at Jermajesty, his eyes back to their soft brown the moment he looked at you yet that slight clench in his jaw still remained.
“so what took you an hour to come over here, J?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, as you stepped to the side and allowed him in, your eyes following his movements while you shut and locked the door behind him.
“had to take care of business, mama,” Jermajesty answered casually as he walked towards the living room and you followed behind him, a small grin pulling at the corners of your mouth from the term of endearment, “made some calls and got all that shit took down.”
your eyebrows almost immediately furrowed and a look of confusion crossed your face as the two of you took a seat on your couch and leaned back into the cushions, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him while his hand splayed across your side.
“you bein’ real vague right now and you know i hate that shit,” you huffed as you instinctively leaned into his touch and turned your head to properly face him, your eyes searching his expression, “c’mon, ‘Majesty, spit it out.”
“i called my ex and made her delete all that shit she posted about us. then i made her get in touch with all them blogs that reposted her stuff and made ‘em delete it, too.” Jermajesty explained, a hint of pride in his voice, as both of your eyebrows slightly raised in pleasant surprise and you grinned widely, earning a soft chuckle from him.
“oooh, you handlin’ business like that?” you teased as your grin smoothly converted into a smirk and you playfully rested your hand against the center of his chest, “okay, big daddy, i see you.”
Jermajesty laughed and lightly shook his head, his curls gently shifting with his movement, as your smirk slightly widened and you slowly caressed his chest with your palm, the motion suggestive yet you played it off as casual.
“stop playin’ with me like i’d let somebody talk shit about you and get away with it,” Jermajesty chuckled softly as he glanced down at your hand and smirked a little before gently grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand up to his mouth to press kisses against each of your knuckles, “you rubbin’ my chest like you want somethin’, mama.”
“maybe i wanna piss your ex off some more,” you smirked, your voice shifting into a tempting tone, as you watched him kiss your knuckles before shifting your hand in his grasp, cupping his chin in your hand and resting your thumb against his cheek, “give her weird ass more reasons not to like me.”
Jermajesty grinned at the sound of your words, though you could tell that he was on the same page as you by the glint in his pretty brown eyes, and his other hand slightly tightened on your side before he pulled you onto his lap, your hands moving to rest against his shoulders while you shifted your hips to properly straddle him.
“and maybe i wanna piss your other niggas off,” Jermajesty murmured as he gripped your hips and held them securely before leaning forward and pressing kisses along your jawline, “tired of havin’ to share you anyway.”
“sounds like a personal problem to me… damn near all my other niggas cut me off over all this shit anyway,” you chuckled softly as you cradled the back of Jermajesty’s head and let out a faint hum, leaning into his kisses, “you bad for business, J.”
“mm, sounds like a personal problem to me, mama,” Jermajesty muttered against you, using your own words against you, as his thumbs rubbed small circles against your hips, “just means i get more of you to myself. and speaking of problems… i was on your live earlier before i called you.”
“you were?” you asked in amusement, your smile slightly widening, as Jermajesty hummed lowly and gently squeezed your hips in response, earning a soft snort from you, “what’d you think about my rant, boo?”
“i think,” Jermajesty deliberately paused and lowered his head into the crook of your neck as he left open-mouthed kisses against your melanated skin and used one of his hands to grip your chin and slightly tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck to him while his other hand splayed across your back, “it was real sexy hearin’ you tell everybody about how i ‘love to bury my face’ in that pussy.”
“oh, you got flashbacks from that, huh?” you teased, your voice suddenly softer than before, as Jermajesty smirked a little at the change in your tone and latched around a particularly sensitive part of your neck, gently sucking at it and coaxing a soft moan from you.
“somethin’ like that.” Jermajesty mumbled, softly nipping at your skin, as you inhaled sharply through your nose and slightly nudged his shoulder with your other hand, silently reminding him of your “no hickeys” rule that he was clearly breaking by biting and sucking on you.
“Jermajesty,” his name left your mouth in a breathy warning tone, trying your hardest to sound firm as if he wasn’t practically making out with a sensitive part of your neck, “no hickeys, boy. i told you that from the beginning.”
smirking, Jermajesty slowly pulled away from your neck and raised his head as he looked up at you, his eyes lingering on your lips before flickering up to meet your gaze.
“well, since everybody already thinks we together… might as well claim what’s mine,” Jermajesty taunted playfully as he let go of your chin and wrapped his hand around your neck, his thumb rubbing the faint markings on the side of your neck, “they look good on you, too. might give you some more later on.”
“i swear i’m gon’ hurt you.” you huffed softly, though a small grin crept onto your face, as Jermajesty grinned back at you and you leaned down to him, cupping his jaw in one of your hands before attaching your lips to his.
“i might like it… your threats sounds sexy.”
your back arched up off of the couch and a loud cry of bliss fell from your mouth as your orgasm rocketed through you and onto Jermajesty’s face, his hands firmly gripping your thighs to keep them pulled open while he continued hungrily lapping at your pussy. your fingers wiggled through his curls and a broken whimper fell from your lips as he ate you through your climax, helping the orgasmic shocks subside while you panted heavily underneath him.
“fuck,” you exhaled deeply, your body slowly coming down from its orgasm-induced high, as Jermajesty placed one final kiss against your clit before pulling his head back and looking up at you, a slight smirk on his face while he ran his tongue over his lips, “maybe i needa’ brag about you givin’ me head more often.”
“your other niggas gon’ be mad at you if you do,” Jermajesty smirked, slightly raising his eyebrows, as he let go of your thighs and moved up your body, hovering over you for a moment before leaning down to softly peck your lips, “thought that was somethin’ you wanted to avoid, mama?”
“they already mad now, so it’ll be alright,” you snorted softly, looking up at him, as you leaned up to him and pecked his lips twice in return before lowering your hands to the waistband of his pants, “take these off, baby.”
“take ‘em off for me since you wanna be bossy.” Jermajesty jokingly demanded, earning a soft laugh from you, as he leaned down to you again and kissed you deeply, your lips curling into a small grin against his while you returned the kiss.
as the two of you kissed, your hands worked on undressing his lower half, his hips shifting to help you out until he was completely bare just like you. easing his body on top of yours, his hips naturally slotted between your thighs and his erection pressed against your core, causing you to moan softly into the kiss while his hands returned to your thighs and gripped them to spread you further open.
Jermajesty slowly rolled his hips against your pussy once, allowing you to feel just how hard and girthy he was, and you whimpered quietly at the feeling as your hands cradled the back of his head and the two of you deepened the kiss simultaneously, both of you eager to feel each other closer than you already were.
however, before you could continue any further, the sound of a phone ringing struck through the heated silence in the room and the two of you groaned in unison before pulling away from the kiss and turning your heads towards the coffee table where both of your phones were.
“whose damn phone is that?” you huffed, a small furrow forming between your eyebrows, as your hands moved down to his forearms and you watched him slightly lean over to the coffee table to look between both of your phones — and by the look on his face, you already had your answer before he even said anything.
“it’s mine,” Jermajesty chuckled, grabbing his phone, as he leaned back into his original position and turned his phone around to show the screen, revealing an unsaved number and the ‘Answer’ or ‘Decline’ buttons underneath the digits, “guess who it is.”
“she can’t take a hint or some shit?” you scoffed, the furrow between your brows slightly deepening, as your eyes flickered between the phone and Jermajesty’s face, “block her or somethin’. she annoyin’ the fuck outta’ me.”
“nah. i know exactly what i’ma do,” Jermajesty’s lips curled up into a smirk — it wasn’t his usual smirk and that alone should’ve alerted you — and he flipped his phone around back to him as he looked at it for a moment before looking down at you, “you trust me?”
you slightly narrowed your eyes at him and searched his face, as if trying to gauge what his intentions were and where his mind was at, “not with that look on your face, J.”
“i’m not gon’ do nothin’ bad. a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ is all i need,” Jermajesty answered simply as he slightly tilted his head and trailed his free hand up to your waist, gently squeezing it before caressing it slowly, “do you trust me?”
you looked at him silently for a moment before slowly nodding your head, a small grin pulling at the corners of your mouth, “…yeah, i trust you.”
Jermajesty’s unreadable smirk turned into a full-blown mischievous smile and before you knew it, he had both of your legs thrown over his shoulders and his phone rested near your head, your eyes slightly widening once it started to connect in your head what he was about to do.
answering the call with one hand, Jermajesty purposely put the phone on speaker and slipped his other hand between your legs, his thumb momentarily teasing your clit before his hand shifted to grab ahold of his dick and guide it to your entrance.
“hello?”
“…hey, Jermajesty. um… look, i know i’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but i just wanted to say that i’m sorry for everything i posted today. i was wrong for that. i was just… really hoping we could talk about getting back togeth—”
as she spoke, Jermajesty’s hips steadily pushed forward until his dick was buried to the hilt, which ultimately coaxed a long high-pitched moan from you since your legs being elevated on his shoulders put him at an advantage to dig deeper inside your walls.
he smirked proudly at the sound and slightly tightened his grip on your waist as his other hand gripped one of your thighs to keep your leg steady on his shoulder and he began thrusting into you at a quick yet deep pace, the sounds of skin-slapping filling the room and most likely echoing through the phone while he continued fucking you like you owed him something.
“ohhh, fuuuuck— nnnngh— baby!” you cried out, your head falling back against the cushions, as your back tried to arch up from the couch but Jermajesty’s grip on your waist kept you pinned down, a loud desperate whine falling from your lips while you clung to his arms, “‘M-Majestyyy!”
“mhm, that’s it, mama. take that dick. keep takin’ it like a good girl f’me,” Jermajesty leaned down to you, essentially folding you in half, and he pressed kisses against your collarbone before inching his head up to rest in the crook of your neck, gliding his tongue across your skin and pulling a whimper from your vocals, “you sound so pretty when you moanin’ for me like that, baby. love the way this pussy wettin’ me up.”
you were so far gone that you forgot that the two of you were still on the phone with Jermajesty’s ex since she had went completely silent, but he didn’t, and that’s why he was fucking you like this. he wanted her to hear everything — the way you’d moan with each rock of his hips, the way you’d cry out his name when he went too deep, the sounds of your bodies repeatedly colliding and becoming even slicker, the filthy things he’d say to you while deep inside you, and so much more that would send that poor woman into cardiac arrest.
raising his head from the crook of your neck, Jermajesty let go of your thigh and wrapped his hand around your jaw instead as he tilted your head back down, “look at me, pretty girl.”
your eyes dazedly met his and you blinked rapidly through the pleasurable haze your mind was being shoved through as your hands left his arms and you cradled his face instead, a desperate attempt to ground yourself in the moment while he continued fucking you into the couch cushions as his ex-girlfriend listened.
“talk to me, mama. tell me how i’m makin’ you feel.”
“y-you—ngh!—you makin’ me f-feel soooo good, J!”
“yeah? you like when i fuck you like this, beautiful?”
“yes! ooh, fuuuuck— yes, babyyy!”
the moment you felt Jermajesty slightly shift the angle of his hips and thrust a little harder was the moment you completely shattered underneath him. you gasped loudly and your jaw went slack as your mouth hung open and your sounds grew higher in pitch and louder in volume, your noises beginning to punctuate each of his thrusts while your eyes rolled back again and your eyebrows furrowed.
“oh, i found that spot, didn’t i, mama?” Jermajesty smirked cockily, maintaining his angle, as your hands shot to his back and you gripped him tight, profusely nodding your head while your nails left crescent-shaped markings in his skin, “mhm, that’s what i thought. hold onto me, baby, i got you. know i can’t let my pretty girl down.”
your head fell back for a second time and a rough sob of pleasure left your mouth as your legs locked up on his shoulders and your knees started to graze your shoulders with each of his thrusts, earning a very high-pitched whine from you while your stomach muscles began to tighten and your walls started to flutter around his dick.
“i feel you, baby, you cummin’? hm? you cummin’ on this dick f’me?” Jermajesty cooed, smirking a little, as he watched your body slightly jerk underneath his weight and took notice of the change in your vocals, knowing he had you right where he wanted you.
“ughhh, yes!” you cried out, your voice wavering, as you quickly nodded your head and your eyes squeezed shut, your thighs beginning to tremble before your orgasm suddenly crashed down on you, “ohhhh, my fuuuuck— Jermajesty!”
as Jermajesty continued fucking you through your climax, both of you were unaware of the fact that his ex had hung up the phone before he asked you to tell him how you were feeling — but it’s not like either of you would’ve actually cared if you had known.
she should’ve known better than to call his phone while he was with you anyway.
Cameron had you bent over the balcony, one hand wrapped in your hair and the other on your hip as he thrusted deep into you.
You two had met on Instagram a good while ago, Cameron would flirt heavy underneath your posts—not to the point where he looked thirsty, just enough to intrigue you.
One day he slid into your DM’s and you two have been talking since. Whether it was texting or on FaceTime until the sun came up, it was really all you two could do, with you being in different cities and all.
So when you told Cameron that you had to come to his city for a business trip, he took it upon himself to make all your biggest fantasies come true.
Balcony sex, in the front of the mirror, cockwarming…
You had told him all this on a late night, never thinking you’d get the opportunity to actually do it.
“Cam—“ you moaned out, you were on the brink of coming again. Eyelids heavy as you looked out at the city in front of you.
All he did was speed up in response, fucking you through your orgasm. Your legs felt like jello as you held onto the rail, Cameron holding you up as his thrust continued. Your moans turned into soft sobs of pleasure, you reached back to him in attempt to make him slow down.
“Nah, take this dick.” He moved your hand out the way, “all that shit you was talking in them messages, you better take this shit.”
“Fuckkk.” You cried out.
“You got it, mama. You got it.” He praised.
Your mind went blank, it was like his words were hypnotic. You pushed back against him, fucking yourself silly.
“You taking it so good, ma. Shit.” Cameron moaned, throwing his head back.
Your next orgasm came quick. Cam pulled you up completely, your back arching against him as his hand wrapped around your neck. For a brief moment you were impressed by how strong he was, until he pulled out of you now all you could focus on was how empty you felt.
He turned you to face him, planting soft kisses on your face as you melted into him.
“You good?” He tilted your chin up so that you were looking directly at him. You nodded. “You did so good for me, mama but I ain’t done with you yet.”
He guided you over towards the daybed that sat on this oversized balcony, he laid you down gently before crouching in front of you, leg placed on his shoulder as he kissed you softly. Starting from your ankle, all the way up to your inner thigh.
His tongue pressed against you in a long, slow lick that made your breath catch, savoring every reaction he got from you. He sat there buried in between your thighs, lapping up all your juices on his tongue. He took your clit in his mouth, releasing it with a pop. Your hand rested on the side of his head, moans escaping from your lips as you brought yourself to look at him.
“Cam, Cammmm, fuck I’m gonna come.” You managed to get out.
And with that, he stopped.
You let out a loud groan, that turned into a whine.
“Why?!”
All he did was let out a low chuckle, pulling you up before sitting next to you on the daybed.
“I’ll eat that pussy all day if I could.” He says next to you.
You turn towards him, “You can.”
It probably sounded pathetic or desperate but in the moment you didn’t care, you needed to feel him in some type of way.
His lips formed into a small smirk, “I’ll hold you to that, baby.”
His hand found your throat during the kiss, just resting there momentarily before he scooted back, making you follow him. You were on your knees, back arched like a cat as you chased his lips. Cameron took in the view, stopping you before you could kiss him again.
“You know where I want you.”
You bit your lip in anticipation, swinging one leg over him and lining yourself up with him. You slowly sunk down on him, not breaking eye contact once. You let out a soft whimper as you took him all in, eyebrows furrowing at the pleasure.
“Don’t move until I say so,” he warned softly.
You nodded, and his lips found yours again almost instantly. The kiss was messy and heated, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his hand slid back to your throat, fingers curling there with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch.
A quiet sound escaped you when your hips shifted instinctively beneath him.
He pulled back just enough for his lips to hover over yours, eyes dark and focused entirely on you.
“You wanna come, don’t you?”
You nodded quickly.
A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. “Use your words, mama.”
“Yes, Cam,” you whispered.
“How bad you want it?”
You placed your hands on his bare chest as you leaned up to kiss him softly again. “Please,” you breathed against his lips. “Please, baby.”
His jaw tightened slightly at the sound of your voice, like hearing you beg did something dangerous to his self control. His thumb brushed along your cheek before sliding down to tilt your chin up toward him again.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Go ahead.”
You rolled your hips against him, immediately feeling your next orgasm creep up on you. You threw your head back as one of his hands caressed your boob, his thumb rubbing over your sensitive nipple. He took it between his two fingers, giving it a gentle squeeze. You rolled your hips faster, the pleasure building up inside of you. Your mouth fell open, body jolting forward because you couldn’t keep yourself up anymore.
“Fuckkkk! Cam. You feel so good.”
“Yeah? You gon come for me?” He whispered in your ear, “Come all over this dick, baby.”
Cameron wrapped his arms around you, fucking you through your orgasm. Your moans were so loud you’re sure the neighbors could hear you but you didn’t care. The whole city could hear you and you wouldn’t give a damn.
After you came, your head hit his chest. Panting, with your hair sticking to your forehead. Cameron rubbed your back, whispering soft praises in your ear.
“All that shit you was talking in them texts…” he murmured, brushing his thumb across your skin. “You was real bold for somebody that can barely keep her eyes open now.”
“Shut up.” You mumbled, playfully rolling your eyes.
Cameron pressed a kiss to the top of your head, still holding you close while your breathing slowly evened out.
“You good?” he murmured softly.
You nodded against his chest, too exhausted to say much. A lazy smile pulled at your lips when his fingers brushed the damp hair away from your forehead.
The movie hums on, unwatched, a blur of colour and laugh tracks you both ignore. You're curled into Jason's side on the couch, his arm draped around your shoulders, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your skin. His breathing is steady, his body almost unnervingly warm.
You shift, pressing yourself closer, your thigh sliding between his. He tenses for half a second, then tries to force himself to relax, but you feel the subtle hitch in his breath.
"Jay," you murmur. It comes out softer than you intended.
He swallows. "Yeah?"
You hum as you tilt your head and press your lips to the corner of his jaw, slow and deliberate. He shudders, his hand tightening on your shoulder, and when you pull back, his eyes are already darker—glossier, half-lidded with desperate want.
"You sure?" he asks, voice low. "We don't have to—"
You kiss him quiet.
His mouth parts against yours, a shaky exhale escaping him, and when your tongue meets his, he groans like it hurts. Your nails scratch lightly against his pale skin, breath shuddering as he gives in, letting out a quiet whimper.
"Fuuck—my god—jesus, fuck—" He doesn't manage to get the next word out. His head tilts back as he keeps going, hips rolling in an uneven, desperate rhythm with the flushed tip of his cock twitching against the friction of cotton and denim. His skin is red hot and ever so slightly tear-stained, his eyes glossy and lost in the pleasure he's grinding out of this moment. He's so darling like this, letting out quiet, shaky whimpers with every grind.
"Sweetheart, wait—hold on— gonna—" Despite his words, he can't stop himself from continuing to rut his hips into yours. He keeps going, shuddering through his orgasm, his body tensing before slowly going slack under you. His pants grow damp with spurts of hot cum, coating the fabric with his release.
You stare at him, your own arousal still hot. "Did you just...?" you ask, and your voice sounds thick even to your own ears. He looks up at you, eyes fucked-out and lashes clumping together with tears.
He's panting softly, eyes glazed over as he answers, "I'm sorry, I—"
You cut him off with a soft kiss. "Don't be," you whisper, fighting the smirk threatening to form on your lips.
a/n: first time doing non-academic writing in months I lowk forgot how to do this
