Is it bad I just wanna suck Joel off with the highest chance of someone coming in on us? Just like, imagine it, ugh
Birthday Boy
Pairing || Joel Miller x Female!Reader
Summary || It's his day, of course you'd treat him well today.
Word Count || 1,227
Contents & Warnings || Fluff & Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit content/language, pet names (baby, hon/honey, sweetheart, good girl), oral (male receiving), teasing, face/throat fucking, spit/saliva, cum swallowing, getting caught, established relationship, ONE spank, 2 mentions of the word Daddy (said by Joel)
Disclaimer || This is my first ever fic, I'm sorry if it's not super good. I promise whatever comes next will be better!
It was Joel's birthday and you invited Tommy over to celebrate with you and Sarah, forcing him to stay home for the day. It's not that he hated to celebrate his day, he was usually busy with work and came home late.
"How old are you again, old man" you hear from the living room, followed by a chuckle from Tommy.
"If you think 28 is old, I'm scared about what you think in 20 years, hon'," you say walking back in the living room with two bowls of popcorn, placing them on the coffee table and sitting right next to your birthday boy.
"Thank you, sweetheart," Joel says while wrapping an arm around you and placing a peck on your temple. Your relationship with Joel has been amazing for the past 2 years. When thinking back about it, you've got thank Sarah and her boldness to get her father into the dating scene. Who's daughter would slip her own dad's number to the local dinner waitress? Only in the Miller household, that's for sure.
"Movie in? What we watching again?," Tommy leans over his niece on the floor, grabbing a beer set there only a few minutes ago, Sarah replies, "Men in Black 2." as she wipes down the liquid ring caused by the beer bottle. "Learn to use a coaster next time, please"
"Ok ok, just play the damn thing. I wanna see if this is better then the original," he said before taking a swig of beer. You all sit comfortably, Tommy and Sarah huddled together on the floor and you and Joel cuddling together. You look up at him, admiring his facial features, wondering how he didn't notice his own beauty. He feels your stares and looks down at you and places his forehead against yours before placing a hand on your thigh and facing back to the screen.
There's about a quarter left of the movie now. Sarah had fallen asleep against Tommy, who's starting to feel the effects of the couple of beers. "I'm heading up, want me to take this one too?," he says looking up at the couple on the couch, "I'll tuck her in and whatever."
"Yeah that's fine Tommy, thank you," you say while smiling at the two on the floor, watching him pick up the sleeping teen, struggling for a second, then walking up the steps. Soft groans and a "Shh, it's fine, just me" can be heard faintly going up the steps.
You and Joel are left alone on the couch and the sequel playing in front of you. Placing a hand on his lap, you lean up and kiss his jaw. "Did you have a good birthday, my love?"
Joel chuckled and pulled you onto his lap, hands placed on your hips, "Of course I did, I always enjoy the quality time we spend, together as a family," he then leans forwards towards your ear whispering, "and when we're alone," followed by a playful smack on your ass.
"Uh, you nasty old man," you jokingly gasped out, lightly hitting Joel's chest. He let out a hearty laugh, both hands now on your ass, "Well this 'old man' loves you and everything you do, baby."
You place your hands on his chest, rubbing softly against the button down he wore. You sit in silence for awhile until you break it.
“Do you want me to suck your dick?”
Your words almost gave him whiplash, eyes blinking furiously as he had a confused and intriguing expression on his face.
“Right now?”
“Yeah dummy, right now.”
“Where did this come from, pretty girl?” His lips turned up in a smirk at the thought of you sucking him off right here on the couch.
“Maybe I'm just in the mood to suck your dick. So do you want me to or not?," you say smirking.
“Fuck, you know I could never resist your offer, baby.” His hand reaches up to your mouth, thumb caressing your lips, thinking about them wrapped around him, making his cock twitch. You reach down and grabbed his covered bulge and palmed him in your hand. The idea of sucking him off had his cock hardened.
“What about Sarah and Tommy, sweetheart? What if they come back down?”
“Well, you need to be my eyes and ears, old man, because I’ll be too busy with your pretty dick in my mouth.”
He groaned in anticipation when you got up and made yourself comfortable on your knees, peering up at him through your thick lashes. Quickly, you pulled his jeans and boxers down, his hard dick springing into view, making you lick your hungry lips.
His hand petting your head lovingly gave you the encouragement you needed to have at him.
You licked his tip, collecting the bead of pre-cum that was forming on it. The feeling of your tongue on him and the risk of getting caught had him groan out.
He pushed your head on his cock, becoming slightly impatient. He wanted to feel your wet and tight mouth rubbing against him. When he was in your throat, he groaned out in satisfaction, his eyes closing in bliss.
You sucked him off like your life depended on it, slurping and moaning around his cock. Your mouth and hand worked together to bring him towards the edge. You released his length for a moment with a pop and spat on him, watching your saliva trickle down his heavy cock, making you hungry for more.
"Fuck baby, you're doing so damn good. Sucking Daddy's cock so good," he says hand gripping your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper once again.
You took him all the way to the back of your throat again, making your eyes water. The light gagging made him shiver on the spot. You pushed through the slight discomfort, wanting to make him feel as good as possible.
He fucked your mouth hard, saliva dripping down your chin with each force of his hips. “So pretty and messy for me, baby.” He was in awe as he watched you take each inch of him. He was a little over average size, yet was thick enough to make your jaw hurt in the best ways.
“Ah, fuck,” he leaned his head back while shutting his eyes tight, “I'm gonna come.”
A thrust or two more, and he was shooting his hot cum down your throat, some coming out from the sides of your mouth. You continued to bob your head on him until he was done spilling every single drop.
“Show me,” he moaned, tugging you off of his softening dick. You showed him your empty mouth, tongue stuck out with no trace left of him in your mouth.
"Such a good girl for me. Knows exactly how to treat her Daddy," he groans while taking his free hand and rubbing your cheek, causing you to lean into his touch.
"Open that pretty mouth again for me, my love." You follow his orders opening your mouth allowing him to spit in your empty cavity and without being told to, you swallow happily.
"Hey lovebirds, next time ya'll are havin' fun, invite me yeah?" You look up in the direction of the stairs, hearing the other male voice in the house chuckle. "If you don't, just keep it down next time."
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｡𖦹°‧➵ PAIR: Reed Richards x fem!reader
｡𖦹°‧➵ WC: 6k
｡𖦹°‧➵ CONTAINS: 18+ SMUT MDNI, spoiler free, age gap (unspecified), intern reader, divorced reed (sorry sue), swearing, sexy science, first kiss, lots of data talk but it’s just filth, sex pollen, fingering, p in v, dr. reed ‘any size you want’ richards, finger sucking, nipple play, creampie, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.
｡𖦹°‧➵ NAT’S NOTE: well this was extremely inevitable…we all knew this was coming. i loved fantastic four and i love marvel’s first family, the avengers don’t have SHIT on them. i can’t believe this is my very first (1st) sex pollen fic, like i’ve really been dropping the ball but that ends right now. hope y’all love it, mwah!
dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics & reed pic by angel @iamasaddie!
dr. richards asks a favor of you…
The Baxter Building laboratory always smells faintly of motor oil and hot circuitry, like the very air itself has been charged.
You've long since gotten used to the smell after all these months spent hard at work in your internship.
You're used to the low hum of oscilloscopes, the spotless glimmer of all the different chrome instruments strewn about the room, the tick of Dr. Richards' watch when he's hunched over his workbench with the kind of single minded focus that never fails to make your chest ache.
It’s well past midnight, another day of you staying far beyond the allotted time, but it’s hardly out of the ordinary by now. Dr. Richards research—and mind quite frankly—has no regard for any kind of normal office hours. It’s almost as if he exists in a different realm, tethered only loosely to the rest of humanity by his work.
That’s another thing you’ve become accustomed to. The clipped speech, the crisp white lab coats always just a bit rumpled from long days, and the air of a man who thinks faster than anyone could follow.
You were supposed to be here for observation, honing in on the delicate skills needed to work in a lab as complex as this one. It started off as just another internship credit. Two semesters of assistance. What it’s slowly morphed into is something more like a full time job, if not a full on fixation with your boss.
You’ve become the one person Dr. Richards doesn’t mind in his peripheral vision. Always quiet, always ready, always watching him with eyes a little too attentive, voice a little too eager each time he speaks to you.
It’s something you never let yourself think about too closely. The one thing you’d never stick under the dozens of highly advanced microscopes just beneath your fingertips.
It’s not plausible.
You’re halfway through labeling a series of glass slides when the door softly hisses open behind you.
“Ah, there you are. Wonderful.”
You swivel around on your stool, standing almost automatically—like Dr. Richards' mere presence demands it. At this point, you’re sure that it does.
He’s standing at the threshold of the lab—tall, thoughtful, thin glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose. In the bright, sterile fluorescent lights, Reed Richards looks less like a man and more an idea given form. All poised intellect, sharp eyes, and a mind clearly three steps ahead.
“Dr. Richards,” you greet, smoothing your skirt out of habit, because no matter how hard you try, you always feel like a nervous schoolgirl around him. “I was just logging the slides from the blood pressure data–”
“Excellent.” He cuts in gently, like he always does when your words are just a little slower than his. “However, I have a far more pressing matter at hand.”
Dr. Richards strides past you to his desk, flipping open one of the many notepads cluttering the space. It was quiet for a few beats, only the sounds of pages turning and muted mumbling as he read over the flurry of sporadically scrawled notes and equations.
You stay in your spot a few feet away, hands clasped in front of you as you wait patiently for him to speak again. He isn’t the kind of man you dare to interrupt when he gets lost in his work.
He picks up a stray pencil to scribble one final note in the margin, then straightens and turns his sharp gaze on you. “I need your assistance with a controlled trail,” he says simply, like he’s requesting something as routine as a full body scan.
“A trial?” You blink, taken aback. Your eyes cut to the clock hanging on the opposite wall, noting the time before returning your gaze to his passive expression. “Tonight?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation, waving you over and turning back to his work. The quiet clinking of glass rings out as he cards his fingers through a test tube rack full to bursting with a different array of brightly colored chemicals. “It’s Compound 83. A strain I synthesized last week from the pollen of a Peruvian orchid."
You cross the short distance obediently, perching yourself on the spare stool next to him just as he plucks out a tube filled with a viscous pink liquid.
Dr. Richards swirls the tube gently, brow furrowed as he watches it splash up against the sides. “Genus Cattleya venusta. Extremely rare. Hyper stimulating. A short half life. I’ve…refined it recently.”
You nod, still confused but refusing to let it show. You pick up your own notebook from the pile, the one with a small atom sticker he placed in the top right corner to mark as yours. “What does it do?”
He hesitates, just long enough for you to notice. But the moment is gone just as fast as it came, giving you no time to think on it.
“It’s a neurological accelerator targeting oxytocin, dopamine, and a few obscure hypothalamic pathways we’ve only begun mapping. Thus, when administered in a controlled environment, should trigger an amplified parasympathetic response.”
Dr. Richards’ voice is calm, measured, full of the kind of certainty that makes people believe anything he says. He adjusts his glasses with his free hand as though to punctuate the statement.
You slip the pencil resting behind your ear out and begin dutifully recording his dictations on a fresh page. “Amplified parasympathetic response,” you repeat, as though saying it out loud will cement the idea in your mind. “Meaning…relaxation?”
“Relaxation, certainly. But more specifically…” He trailed off as his long fingers drum along the glass tube. “...heightened sensitivity, increased blood flow to erogenous zones, accelerated dopamine release, and a…well, a state of arousal far surpassing the body’s baseline capacity. Think of it as a neurological catalyst. A kind of–hm–sexual amplifier, for lack of a better term.”
You blink. Your pencil abruptly stills against the paper. “Dr. Richards…” you begin carefully, dreading the answer you were sure to receive. “Are you saying this is…an aphrodisiac?"
“Yes,” he says, dryly. “But I’d prefer we didn’t reduce it to that.”
Your pulse quickens before you can stop it. You try to disguise the sudden dryness of your mouth with a stunted laugh void of all humor. You’re unsure if this is a joke, some elaborate scientific prank to weed out the weak interns—or if Dr. Richards is really asking what you think he is.
He takes a step closer, peering at you over the frame of his glasses. “I need data on its physical, behavioral, and cognitive effects. In vivo. A live trial. Unfortunately, none of the team are suitable candidates due to immunogenic complications. Johnny had a reaction. Ben refused.”
You don’t bring up the obvious member missing from his apparent previous failed trails. The divorce was none of your business, it never will be. You’ve seen Sue and Reed interact less than a handful of times since the news broke to the press and then to the general public. They seem to be working together quite well despite what one might think, still cordial and professional with each other in every facet within the team.
Your grip on your pencil tightens, lips parting. “And you want me to…test it?”
“Yes.” Dr. Richards nods once, deliberate. “Your physiology is well suited to controlled observation. You’re young, in excellent health, no known endocrine disorders. Statistically ideal.”
Your stomach sinks, a flush of warmth creeping up the back of your neck. It’s hardly a compliment, practically the furthest thing from one. It still has arousal sparking deep in your belly, the idea that he’s looked at you. He’s cataloged you. He’s thought about this moment carefully, crunched the numbers and deemed you the best candidate for this experiment.
You don’t realize that you’ve gone quiet, the silence stretching out in the spotless lab as your brain tries to process all the input you’ve received in the last five minutes.
“I wouldn’t ask,” he says quickly, taking your silence as a negative. “if I didn’t think you capable. You’ve shown remarkable composure under pressure. And I assure you—if at any point you wish to stop, you only need to say so. Consent, of course, is paramount.” His gaze finally softens, just enough for you to see the man behind the scientist. “I’d never want to harm you.”
You swallow stiffly, your throat dry. “What about you?”
Dr. Richards brows furrow slightly, like you asked him an extremely stupid question. “It would be irresponsible to not include myself. The biochemical pathways are interactive, and I must assess the shared impact.” He raises the test tube to the light, the liquid shimmers under the bright white rays. He glances at you again, eyes unreadable. “To be perfectly clear, the study would involve direct physical contact.”
It’s the most clinical way anyone has ever told you we’d be having sex.
Heat flares under your skin, like thousands of tiny pinpricks breaking out all along your body. “So, what you’re really asking me is to–”
“Copulate,” he supplies matter of factly, as if he’s describing the weather. “Us, under the influence of the compound.”
He says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like the simple word us doesn’t rearrange your entire nervous system. Like you haven't spent months wondering if Reed Richards—brilliant, remote, obsessively precise—even thinks about you at all when he’s not assigning you lab reports.
You try to find the words, but they all tangle in your throat. “Um, what–what exactly would the study entail?” you finally manage.
“Simple,” he replies, turning fully toward you now. His deep brown eyes pin you to your seat with clinical intensity. “Oral intake of the compound, both subjects will report on their individual symptoms as they manifest. I’ll monitor physiological changes as it begins to take effect—heart rate, body temperature, pupil dilation. Eventually, I’ll…well.” His voice trails off, as if only now realizing the inevitable conclusion. “We’ll engage in various sexual activities to evaluate its full efficacy, at which point I’d assess how, if at all, the effects might be mitigated or resolved.”
“Resolved,” you echo, voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” he says softly. “Achieving climax would, in theory, alleviate the overstimulation.”
Your breath catches, sharp and shallow. Once again, he says it like it’s nothing—like sex with him is just another variable on a spreadsheet.
Your heart pounds hard against your ribcage, your palms sweaty. The logic is sound, of course it is. The delivery is methodical, careful. You hear the question Dr. Richards isn’t voicing beneath it all clearly despite all that.
Would you let him touch you?
You should say no.
You really should.
This could complicate everything, in a myriad of different ways. Dr. Richards is your boss, your mentor. The possible legal ramifications alone should be enough to scare you out of the lab and all the way back to the safety of your apartment.
Instead, you hear yourself whisper, “I’ll do it.”
The relief on Dr. Richards face was subtle but unmistakable. His shoulders relax, dropping a beat of tension you didn't realize was there. You have the inexplicable urge to laugh, at how ridiculous this all is. Or maybe, it was because he thought you'd ever be able to say no to him.
"Very good." He nodded once, his face already set with determination. He swept the notebook from his desk, the test tube still secure in his other hand. "Follow me."
You have no choice but to obey.
The isolation room is a sea of crisp white.
White walls. White floors. A single chair is bolted to ground right in the center, padded with spotless white leather.
It's sterile in nature, it was designed that way. Silent except for the low electrical hum of the halogen lights shining overhead. There’s a faint antiseptic tang in the air, like bleach diluted with something floral. Faint enough to almost be pleasant.
You know for a fact there's a camera somewhere, disguised in the ceiling tiles. It's for safety purposes, to monitor subjects from afar when they're deemed to dangerous for an in person encounter.
You wonder idly if Dr. Richards disabled the camera, or if he's kept it on.
The latter seems extremely likely. If you know him at all, he'll want the footage to be available for later use. To review the trial as more of a fly on the wall when all is said and done.
The idea of him re-watching this encounter has your chest tightening, something like embarrassment and arousal churning together sickly somewhere deep in your stomach.
Dr. Richards enters behind you, his footsteps soft against the tile as he passes you and stops next to the chair. "If you'll sit, we can begin."
You lower yourself down into the chair, it was made to cradle the spine and ensure maximum muscular relaxation. You've cleaned it before, wiped it down countless times. Logged its maintenance just as much. You never thought you'd be perched on it like this, legs pressed together nervously, arms resting primly at your sides.
"I'll begin with a baseline assessment." He clicks his pen, flipping his notebook open with brisk precision. "Pulse, temperate, pupil reactivity." His voice is calm, steady. As though he isn't about to feed you something that will make you ache for him.
He doesn't look nervous—he never does—but the faint tightening at the corners of his mouth betrays just how carefully he's bracing himself for what's about to happen.
Dr. Richards leans in closer, and for a moment the clinical facade fades. His scent—clean linen, aftershave, the acrid note of lab alcohol—floods your senses. He takes your wrist gently, sliding his fingers over the delicate skin of your wrist until the press against the throb of your pulse.
"Eighty beats per minute," he murmurs to himself, eyes narrowing as he counts under his breath. "Slightly elevated. Presumably caused by anticipation."
"You think?" You speak before you can think better of it, tone laced with the barest hint of sarcasm.
"I know," he replies matter of factly, jotting the number down. His fingertips linger on your skin for a bit longer than necessary before falling away. "Measuring pupil dilation now."
He plucks a small penlight from the breast pocket of his lab coat. Without warning, he reaches forward and takes your chin between gentle fingers, steadying you. His thumb brushes your check as he shines the small light back and forth over your eyes.
You hope he can't feel the warmth rising beneath your skin. The beam stings, but you hold still, because he expects you to.
"Pupils responsive," he notes, close enough that you feel the fan of his breath. He clicks the pen light off, slipping it back in his pocket before his hand moves up and presses against your forehead.
It takes every bit of will in your mortal body not to lean into his touch.
"Temperature is normal." He nods, dropping his hand to scribble more information into his notebook. "Ninety eight point four."
You fight the urge to laugh. You feel like your skin's blistering.
"All right." Dr. Richards takes a step back, placing his notebook on the tray. "We can proceed."
Your heart skip three times over in your chest as you watch him retrieve the test tube. He unscrews the cap, and a sweet, heady scent drifts through the air between you. It hits your nose like perfume. Your mouth waters against your will.
"Compound 83 has been calibrated to a micro-dose." He picks a pipette off the metal tray resting on the table beside you, sliding the dull tip inside of the test tube and carefully measuring a few milliliters of the liquid. It shimmers rosy pink in the light, filmy and iridescent like the surface of a bubble. "Oral administration. It should take approximately three minutes to cross the blood-brain barrier."
You nod once, jerky and tense. You don't trust your voice enough to speak.
"Tongue out," he instructs softly, taking a step closer.
The command makes your stomach twist.
You part your lips, tipping your head back slightly. The first drop lands on your tongue, and the taste is shockingly sweet—like sugared fruit with bitter, chemical bite beneath. Dr. Richards tilts the pipette, letting the measured dose coat your taste buds.
"Swallow." His tone leave to room for hesitation.
You obey, throat working as you take it down. His eyes track it the movement with the subtle air of fascination. For your apparent bravery? For your insistent need to please? You're not entirely sure.
"Good," he whispers, reeling back to take his own dose. He sets the tube and the pipette down, checking his watch. "Note the taste."
You roll the few drops left around in your mouth, absentmindedly chasing the flavor. "Sweet. Slightly bitter."
Dr. Richards nods in agreement. "Any tingling? Metallic aftertaste? Olfactory shifts?"
You shake your head, wringing your hands nervously. "No. Not yet."
"Good," he repeats, eyes sharp as he keeps his gaze trained on his watch, recording the time down to the second. "Now, describe the sensation. Do you feel warm?"
You do, now that he's brought it up. A pleasant heat thrumming just beneath your skin, like the hot spray of a shower head beating down on overworked muscle. Nothing you can't handle.
You nod, tongue coming out to sweep along your bottom lip. "Yes. If baseline temperature was determined as normal, I'd estimate it's climbed approximately six degrees."
"Fascinating," Dr. Richards mumbles, reaching out yet again. Long fingers catch your wrist, gently circling it to find your radial pulse point. "Pulse is elevated, one hundred and thirteen beats per minute."
Your thighs shift slightly, the hem of your skirt creeping up with the movement. His eyes track it, his gaze feels like a physically caress on the newly exposed skin.
He drags his eyes back up slowly, really looking at you, studying your face. "Pupillary dilation at…remarkable. Nearly thirty percent increase already."
Your hands fall to the armrest on either side of you. "Dr. Richards-"
He cuts you off. "Subject B experiencing similar symptoms to Subject A. Internal temperate is rising steadily."
He sheds his lab coat then, draping it over the back of the chair. He unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeve with deft fingers, rolling them up to expose the corded muscle of his tan forearms. The collar of his shirt is askew, just enough to show off the hairy skin of his chest. His undershirt is thin enough that you can see the slight clench of his abdomen.
He looks more inviting this way, more approachable. Devastatingly handsome.
You try not to notice the way his suspenders hang loosely around his hips. You fail.
White hot heat unfurls low in your belly, sharp and sudden, like the spark of a match catching dry paper. Your skin prickles, sweat beading at your hair line. Every inch of you is hyper aware of Dr. Richards nearness radiating the same warmth.
Your breath hitches, hands squeezing the chair's armrests. "Dr. Richards, I-"
"Reed," he interrupts, his tone tighter than before—strained. "Please, call me Reed."
Your chest heaves, lips slick and parted as you suck in greedy lungfuls of air. Your thighs clench, pressing together tightly. There's an unmistakable dampness spreading over the thin cotton fabric of your panties.
“Breathe normally,” he instructs, eyes glued to your chest, to the hard peaks of your nipples straining against your shirt. “The compound should take effect within-”
You don't hear the rest.
The compound spreads faster now, thrumming in a way that's inescapable. The room feels like someone cranked up the heat as high as it goes, your skin sings under every brush of air. You shift again, and a needy sound escapes before you can catch it.
Blood rushes through your ears, a mess of white noise. Your heart pounds in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins to light them up from the inside like you took an injection of kerosene.
"Reed…" You breathe, voice gone airy and taut. "It's-it's getting stronger."
"Wonderful." It's almost as if the word is pulled from him before he can think better of how lewd it sounds. "Describe the sensation in your lower abdomen."
He means your pussy—your brain supplies unhelpfully. The thought alone has another humiliating sound falling from your lips.
"Pressure," you admit softly, eyes never straying from his. "Heat. A kind of almost…pulling sensation."
Before you can respond, he steps forward. Your thighs part instinctively, giving him the room he needs to loom over you.
You can hardly sit still beneath the intensity of his gaze. Your thighs part further, and he notices—of course he notices. His sharp brown eyes flick down, linger, then return to your face.
Reed reaches up slowly, being sure to let you see the path his hand takes through the air. Gently, so gently, he cups the side of your face.
The touch is featherlight. Measured. His skin is warm, calloused. Your eyes flutter shut, a soft moan falling from your lips. His skin feels scorching, burning a plane of heat along the side of your face.
“You’re—extremely sensitive,” he observes. “Marked increase in reactivity. Pupils dilation increased to 100%. Body language—shifting. Seeking friction.” His fingers trace down your neck, just barely ghosting over your pulse.
You suck in a sharp breath.
“You’re trembling,” he murmurs, his own hand shaking. “Very responsive to light contact.”
You want to deny it, but the data is undeniable. Your breathing is quick, thighs pressing tight together, nipples showing through the thin fabric of your blouse.
Another wave hits you hard. Your hips shift against the chair involuntarily, and Reed watches. “Pelvic tension. Motor restlessness. Onset confirmed at three minutes, thirty seconds.”
Your back arches off the chair, sweat dripping down the length of your spine. You finally let yourself lean into his touch, panting at the contact.
“I can feel it as well,” he says quietly, breath hot against your ear. “My palms are sweating. Heart rate elevated. There’s a persistent ache behind my eyes. Blood flow redistribution—predictable.”
You glance down.
There's a very pronounced tent straining behind the fly of his slacks. A patch of wetness darkens the khaki fabric, spreading and so inviting.
You moan at the sight, your hands twitching with the need to touch.
"This will be for data," he says, like he's convincing himself the words are true.
You nod, dragging your eyes back up to his own. Your gaze is dazed like you've been spun in circles.
Reed kisses you.
Your hands fly to the lapels of his lab coat, dragging him down as he leans into the chair with you.
It's not romantic. Not soft. Not scientific. It's hungry, searching. A filthy mess of spit and something delicate and layered shattering like sugar glass between the two of you.
He's trying to map you, to gauge your reaction. His tongue slides past your parted lips and you whimper, aching. Reed swallows the sound, returning one of his own. A deep, low groan that wracks through your body like thunder.
When he pulls back, you chase him.
"Extraordinary," he breathes against your mouth, more to himself than to you. "The compound is creating extreme dopaminergic reinforcement."
"Touch me," you gasp, past the point of desperation. "Please, Reed. Touch me. I need-"
Reed's mouth crashes against yours, hard enough to clack your teeth together roughly. He's more gone than you thought, the careful man who handles each and every lab instrument like they're made of blown glass nowhere to be seen as he claims your mouth. His hands slide up your body—along your waist, up over your ribs, until they cup your breasts.
You cry out into his mouth when his thumbs brush over your nipples. The stimulation is immediate, electric. Explosive.
He pinches them between long, nimble fingers—caution lost in the whirlwind of arousal.
You keen.
“Heightened sensitivity confirmed,” he murmurs against your jaw, now completely wrecked. His voice is hoarse. “God—you're responding faster than anticipated. It's remarkable.”
You gasp when he yanks your blouse open with a sharp tug. Buttons scatter across the floor, clinking against the tile. His hands are on your bare skin now, mouth following. You arch as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, his fingers teasing the other.
Reed groans like he's in pain, panting against your breast. “Where are you experiencing the most acute sensation?”
Your tongue is too thick in your mouth. You try to swallow, try to answer, but it comes out wrong.
He leans closer, resting his forehead against yours. “You’ll need to verbalize, please.”
“Between my legs,” you manage, barely audible. “It—it’s extremely sensitive.”
A low sound rings out in the minuscule space between your lips. It takes your molasses drenched thoughts a few beats to realize it's coming from Reed. From somewhere deep in his chest, clawing its way out.
“Understood.” His touch travels, skating down lower until his fingers are trailing up the inside of your trembling thigh. “Do I have your permission to proceed with physical contact?”
"Yes," you whisper, and it comes out far too fast. Too eager. You can't find it in you to care. "Yes, Reed."
Reed slips his hand under your skirt, seeking out the damp plane of your pussy.
You jolt at the contact, hips twitching forward before you can help it.
Through the cotton, he traces the outline of your cunt, every shift of pressure measured, every reaction recorded in the keen flick of his eyes. He presses just slightly against your clit and watches the way you squirm, the way your breath stutters.
“Fascinating,” he repeats, eyes fixed on you as you start to writhe beneath him. “Clitoral response is heightened. You’re…exquisite. Perfect. Responding exactly as hypothesized—no, better—God, better.”
Two fingers spread you wide, and the slick sound is nothing but downright obscene. Your hand flies to his forearm, gripping it tightly as his index finger teases along your entrance.
You whimper, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Remove your underwear,” Reed instructs, not unkindly—but without pause. “I’d like to confirm those measurements manually.”
You scramble to do exactly as he says. You lift your hips, fingers fumbling with the hem of your skirt and dragging the soaked panties down your thighs. You can’t bring yourself to look at him as you set them aside on the tray. The air hits your bare cunt like a slap—wet and exposed and throbbing.
Reed sinks to his knees.
It’s the first truly shocking thing he’s done all night.
He doesn’t say anything about it, not at first. He just positions himself between your legs, face level with your cunt, and exhales once. A long, slow breath. It's ragged at the edges, tormented.
It makes you shiver.
“Excellent visibility,” he mutters, seemingly unbothered by the fact that your folds are glistening and swollen inches away from the front of his face. You can still hear the slight termor of his voice all the same. “Subject appears to be fully engorged. Labia minora are visibly distended. Vulvar tissue is flushed.”
His first finger enters you with barely any resistance. You’re so wet, the stretch is effortless, obscene. He watches the way you swallow him in, his jaw flexing once as if trying not to react.
“Incredible,” he says, voice low. “Increased elasticity. Temperature is elevated. Constriction around the first phalanx…tight. Responsive.”
He curls his finger experimentally.
You choke on a gasp.
He adds another.
The stretch has your thighs clenching automatically around his wrist. You’re wet enough to hear it—the slick, filthy sound of your cunt sucking him in. Reed doesn’t blink.
“Two digits…full insertion.” He speaks as if he’s trying to distance himself from it. But his breath is shallower now. His cheeks are flushed. “Subject is—remarkably reactive.”
Reed scissors his fingers gently, eyes trained on the place where they disappear into you. “You’re pulsing around me,” he murmurs, full of awe. “That’s…beautiful.”
You’re past the point of embarrassment now. Your hips rock helplessly into the rhythm he sets—slow, firm pumps, angled just slightly until—
“Oh my god—”
“There,” he breathes, and there’s an almost feral edge in his voice. Not clinical. Not detached. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
You nod desperately, your free hand flying to your mouth to muffle the pathetic noises spilling out.
“Dampness-Jesus Christ,” he rasps, voice barely intelligible now. “Lubrication ratio also surpasses hypothesized maximum. You’re absolutely soaked. I—God, I need—I have to be inside you. Now.”
He slips his hand from between your legs and frees himself from his trousers with the same kind of focus you’ve seen him use to construct a fusion coil. Efficient, but trembling at the edges. His cock is flushed a deep red, thick, the tip shiny with precome as it presses against the heat of your cunt.
You moan at the sight. Your mouth waters as your cunt throbs with the raw, visceral need to be filled.
Reed stands, cock sways in the air, hard and heavy, pressing insistently against the slick seam of your cunt. Your body jerks at the contact, thighs twitching open wider, a helpless invitation.
The heat of him is almost unbearable, the swollen head nudging against your entrance like he’s testing the resistance.
His eyes are wild now, pupils blown wide, but his voice is still that low, steady baritone, though it trembles with restraint. “Lubrication is more than sufficient,” he says, breath ghosting over your lips as his hand fists at the base of his shaft. “Your body is prepared to accommodate penetration.”
Prepared—like you’re a lab experiment instead of a dripping mess beneath him. The words shouldn’t make you whimper, but they do.
Reed drags the head through your folds, coating himself in your wetness, collecting every drop. You keen, desperate for him to breach you, hips canting forward as if your body could take him in by force.
And then, without warning, he presses inside you.
The stretch punches the air from your lungs. Reed’s cock slides in slow, thick, impossibly deep, the sweet burn of it making your spine arch off the chair.
It's everything you've imagined it and more. All the guilty nights spent after lab hours with your fingers stuffed inside yourself as you let yourself indulge in the plethora of dirty thoughts floating around your brain couldn't have prepared you.
Nothing in the universe, this one and all the others, could have prepared you for the feeling of Reed Richards cock craving your cunt open like it belongs there.
You cry out his name, hands flying to his shoulders so your nails can dig crescent moons into the muscle there.
His head tips back, a guttural groan tearing from his throat. “Ah—constriction exceeds expectation. Warmth is—” He cuts himself off with a shudder. “You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
There's no easing into it, no letting you get used to stretch. Your whole pelvis burns. The perfect mix of pain and pleasure intertwined together as one.
Reed fucks you with a single minded intensity, the same focus he gives to his equations, except now it's your body under his meticulous study, your cries the data points, your rapidly approaching orgasm the undeniable proof.
Your body arches off the chair, legs wrapped tight around his waist. He sets a brutal rhythm, each thrust deeper than the last, his hands braced on either side of your head.
“God,” you cry, nails clawing at his shoulders. “It’s—it’s too much—”
“It’s the compound,” he pants, his hair damp and curling against his forehead. “It’s magnifying everything. Every nerve. I can feel your heartbeat around me—Jesus—” Reed watches you through half lidded eyes, his expression wrecked, fevered. “Your walls are…milking me,” he mutters, reverent. Worshipful. “Constriction’s incredible. God, you feel—unreal.”
You moan louder when he adjusts his angle, the thick head of his cock rubbing against the sweet spot inside you. Your hand flies to your mouth, trying to muffle the noise.
“Don’t,” Reed growls, catching your wrist. He guides your fingers away from your lips and replaces them with his own. “Open and suck. Need to test oral fixation. S-salivary response.”
You suck greedily, tongue swirling over his fingers. The broken sound he makes only spurs you on. He moans when you suck harder, when you glide your tongue along the pads of his fingers like you want to devour him whole.
“You’re—fuck—you’re responding to every variable,” he says, voice cracked wide open, losing composure fast. “You’re better than anything I could’ve projected.”
You gag softly around his knuckles when his pace picks up, each thrust deep and punishing. Your nipples rub against his shirt, swollen and desperate for friction.
“Good girl,” he breathes, hips slamming harder into you. “God, you look so beautiful—sucking my fingers while I fuck you.”
Reed pauses, trembling, as if his own body is trying to calibrate to yours. “Is the stretch too much?” he manages, voice frayed with strain.
Your answer is a desperate whine, your hips bucking as his fingers slip out of your mouth so his hands can grip your hips tightly. “More. Please, Reed—”
His lips press hard to your ear, and you feel the words rumble out of him. “I can make it better. Adjust dimensions.”
It takes a second for your brain to process. And then he shifts.
You feel him thicken inside you, the stretch intensifying deliciously as his cock grows, swelling to fill you more completely. Your cry is broken and raw, your cunt clenching around him like a vice.
You’re dizzy, trembling, barely holding on. The friction is unbearable, the way his cock drags against your walls like he was designed for you. Reed leans back just enough to watch your face, his own expression wrecked. His cheeks are flush, curls plastered to his sweaty forehead.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against your skin. “Your body’s pulsing, clenching—I can feel it, how bad you need it. You’re going to—God, you’re going to come so beautifully.”
Your hands scramble to sink into his salt and pepper hair, holding him against you, desperate. He growls low in his throat, hips picking up speed, driving into you harder, faster. The lewd slap of skin on skin echoes off the pristine white walls, obscene and unrelenting.
When his free hand slides down to rub your clit, your vision whites out.
“Reed—!”
Your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, ripping through you so violently you sob. Your cunt spasms around him, sucking him deeper, milking him. You’re shaking uncontrollably, tears sliding down your temples as Reed groans against your breast.
His thrusts turn erratic, his composure breaking. “Constriction—fuck, so tight—I can’t—” He slams in deep, burying himself to the hilt.
With one last broken groan of your name, he’s coming inside you—flooding you—his cock stretching slightly, growing thicker as if his body wants to stay buried in you. You feel the warmth of it spread, thick and hot and unstoppable, deep inside where no one else has ever reached.
His forehead drops to yours, sweat slick, breath ragged. “Perfect,” he whispers, almost delirious. “Absolutely…perfect data set.”
Reed places a sweet kiss over your slack lips, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles along the skin of your hips.
You’re still trembling when he pulls back enough to watch the way his come leaks out of you around the base of his cock to drip down onto the leather, eyes dark with awe. His thumb swipes gently along your clit again, just to watch you jolt.
The look in his eyes tells you he isn’t nearly finished.
MINI NAT'S NOTE: this man is autistic and literally no one can convince me otherwise. i was sitting in that theater like, he’s my people…anyway i need that. those little slutty grey patches? yeah. that’s some good goddamn fucking food.
also, who knew all the hate i spewed on my chem lecture last semester would come back to bite me hard in the ass writing this. i mean i'm really in my chemistry bag with this one. that and a&p. can you tell i’m a stem major? i know all my professors would be proud.
His flannel shirts are making me act up so a little cockwarming thought
Imagine he is just sitting there trying to work on something, rough dirty hands, messy curly hair. Eyebrows furrowed, his glasses on top of his nose and his sweet darling sitting on his lap. He is fully concentrating. Until you decide to start grinding on him, he just looked too good, you couldn’t help yourself.
With a gruff and an eye roll he reaches for his pants, unzipping his cock. „s’what happens when your old man doesn’t fuck you in the morning.” making you slowly take his cock.
When you start riding him he stops you, squeezing your hips, making you whine. You just wanted to cum.
“Didn’t tell you that you could ride me, girl.”
And he is so god damn annoyed with you. Annoyed the way you whine around, the way you make his seat all wet. But his cock feels too good in you, to just sit on him. “Keep me warm, till’ i’m done with this or you’re getting nothing.”
With a pout on your lip, you try to warm him. Cunt all wrapped around his shaft, trying your best to bury your head into his chest, trying your best to not move up and down. And while his public hair is touching your clit, you buck your hips subconsciously at one point.
But joel ignores it until he himself can’t take it anymore. Putting whatever he was working on down and sighing.
“Have myself a needy whore hm? 24/7 only thinking of cock.” While he slowly starts to thrust up to you, seeing your eyes roll back.
“That’s why daddy always needs to fuck her every morning, huh? Whining about wanting to make breakfast early today. But daddy just knows better, baby.”
And you know you should’ve listened to him but you are lost in pleasure as he guides your hips on his cock, daddydaddydaddy spilling from your lips repeatedly.
Is it bad I just wanna suck Joel off with the highest chance of someone coming in on us? Just like, imagine it, ugh
Birthday Boy
Pairing || Joel Miller x Female!Reader
Summary || It's his day, of course you'd treat him well today.
Word Count || 1,227
Contents & Warnings || Fluff & Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit content/language, pet names (baby, hon/honey, sweetheart, good girl), oral (male receiving), teasing, face/throat fucking, spit/saliva, cum swallowing, getting caught, established relationship, ONE spank, 2 mentions of the word Daddy (said by Joel)
Disclaimer || This is my first ever fic, I'm sorry if it's not super good. I promise whatever comes next will be better!
It was Joel's birthday and you invited Tommy over to celebrate with you and Sarah, forcing him to stay home for the day. It's not that he hated to celebrate his day, he was usually busy with work and came home late.
"How old are you again, old man" you hear from the living room, followed by a chuckle from Tommy.
"If you think 28 is old, I'm scared about what you think in 20 years, hon'," you say walking back in the living room with two bowls of popcorn, placing them on the coffee table and sitting right next to your birthday boy.
"Thank you, sweetheart," Joel says while wrapping an arm around you and placing a peck on your temple. Your relationship with Joel has been amazing for the past 2 years. When thinking back about it, you've got thank Sarah and her boldness to get her father into the dating scene. Who's daughter would slip her own dad's number to the local dinner waitress? Only in the Miller household, that's for sure.
"Movie in? What we watching again?," Tommy leans over his niece on the floor, grabbing a beer set there only a few minutes ago, Sarah replies, "Men in Black 2." as she wipes down the liquid ring caused by the beer bottle. "Learn to use a coaster next time, please"
"Ok ok, just play the damn thing. I wanna see if this is better then the original," he said before taking a swig of beer. You all sit comfortably, Tommy and Sarah huddled together on the floor and you and Joel cuddling together. You look up at him, admiring his facial features, wondering how he didn't notice his own beauty. He feels your stares and looks down at you and places his forehead against yours before placing a hand on your thigh and facing back to the screen.
There's about a quarter left of the movie now. Sarah had fallen asleep against Tommy, who's starting to feel the effects of the couple of beers. "I'm heading up, want me to take this one too?," he says looking up at the couple on the couch, "I'll tuck her in and whatever."
"Yeah that's fine Tommy, thank you," you say while smiling at the two on the floor, watching him pick up the sleeping teen, struggling for a second, then walking up the steps. Soft groans and a "Shh, it's fine, just me" can be heard faintly going up the steps.
You and Joel are left alone on the couch and the sequel playing in front of you. Placing a hand on his lap, you lean up and kiss his jaw. "Did you have a good birthday, my love?"
Joel chuckled and pulled you onto his lap, hands placed on your hips, "Of course I did, I always enjoy the quality time we spend, together as a family," he then leans forwards towards your ear whispering, "and when we're alone," followed by a playful smack on your ass.
"Uh, you nasty old man," you jokingly gasped out, lightly hitting Joel's chest. He let out a hearty laugh, both hands now on your ass, "Well this 'old man' loves you and everything you do, baby."
You place your hands on his chest, rubbing softly against the button down he wore. You sit in silence for awhile until you break it.
“Do you want me to suck your dick?”
Your words almost gave him whiplash, eyes blinking furiously as he had a confused and intriguing expression on his face.
“Right now?”
“Yeah dummy, right now.”
“Where did this come from, pretty girl?” His lips turned up in a smirk at the thought of you sucking him off right here on the couch.
“Maybe I'm just in the mood to suck your dick. So do you want me to or not?," you say smirking.
“Fuck, you know I could never resist your offer, baby.” His hand reaches up to your mouth, thumb caressing your lips, thinking about them wrapped around him, making his cock twitch. You reach down and grabbed his covered bulge and palmed him in your hand. The idea of sucking him off had his cock hardened.
“What about Sarah and Tommy, sweetheart? What if they come back down?”
“Well, you need to be my eyes and ears, old man, because I’ll be too busy with your pretty dick in my mouth.”
He groaned in anticipation when you got up and made yourself comfortable on your knees, peering up at him through your thick lashes. Quickly, you pulled his jeans and boxers down, his hard dick springing into view, making you lick your hungry lips.
His hand petting your head lovingly gave you the encouragement you needed to have at him.
You licked his tip, collecting the bead of pre-cum that was forming on it. The feeling of your tongue on him and the risk of getting caught had him groan out.
He pushed your head on his cock, becoming slightly impatient. He wanted to feel your wet and tight mouth rubbing against him. When he was in your throat, he groaned out in satisfaction, his eyes closing in bliss.
You sucked him off like your life depended on it, slurping and moaning around his cock. Your mouth and hand worked together to bring him towards the edge. You released his length for a moment with a pop and spat on him, watching your saliva trickle down his heavy cock, making you hungry for more.
"Fuck baby, you're doing so damn good. Sucking Daddy's cock so good," he says hand gripping your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper once again.
You took him all the way to the back of your throat again, making your eyes water. The light gagging made him shiver on the spot. You pushed through the slight discomfort, wanting to make him feel as good as possible.
He fucked your mouth hard, saliva dripping down your chin with each force of his hips. “So pretty and messy for me, baby.” He was in awe as he watched you take each inch of him. He was a little over average size, yet was thick enough to make your jaw hurt in the best ways.
“Ah, fuck,” he leaned his head back while shutting his eyes tight, “I'm gonna come.”
A thrust or two more, and he was shooting his hot cum down your throat, some coming out from the sides of your mouth. You continued to bob your head on him until he was done spilling every single drop.
“Show me,” he moaned, tugging you off of his softening dick. You showed him your empty mouth, tongue stuck out with no trace left of him in your mouth.
"Such a good girl for me. Knows exactly how to treat her Daddy," he groans while taking his free hand and rubbing your cheek, causing you to lean into his touch.
"Open that pretty mouth again for me, my love." You follow his orders opening your mouth allowing him to spit in your empty cavity and without being told to, you swallow happily.
"Hey lovebirds, next time ya'll are havin' fun, invite me yeah?" You look up in the direction of the stairs, hearing the other male voice in the house chuckle. "If you don't, just keep it down next time."
playing stardew valley on my switch but like. i should be lying on someone’s chest as they half doze and gently drift their fingers through my hair and over my body. but whatever. it’s fine.
author’s note. ∿ i need this man so bad it’s not even funny. smut (fingering, oral f receiving, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, praise, marking, voyeurism I guess idk) it's been a while since I wrote something on this account and its not proofread so be nice, also a bit of a rushed ending??
word count. ⨾ 2.7k
The harsh thud of the car door closing awoke you from your mid-day reverie by the lake. The sun was beaming down on you almost bare body, only covered by a bikini. It was hotter than usual and everyone else at saltburn seemed to share your complaints. The heat aside the weather was pleasant—Felix on the other hand looked less than.
He looked annoyed, almost upset, even from far away. When he exited the car Oliver and Felix went their separate ways, Oliver looking just as unhappy. You wondered what happened in just few hours that could’ve soured their moods but it was only a few moments later when Felix approached you, grinning in attempt to hide the scowl he was dressed in minutes earlier.
Once he reached your figure he towered over your body as you laid on the dock. Having well acknowledge the heat now and your lack of clothing he discarded his shirt and quickly lowered his frame over yours so that his was barely hovering over yours.
“What’s wrong?” You asked.
He shook his head with a small grin. “nothing.”
You scoffed. “Liar.” He raised his brows.
“What’s wrong?” You prodded again. He dropped his head in hesitation, his lip between his teeth as he contemplated telling you what happened on his and Oliver’s road trip, what he felt, what the truth was—but he couldn’t. Not yet anyways.
He looked up at you. “I- Oliver just said something and it hurt me more than I thought it would.”
You sat up, the two of you adjusting your bodies as you did so. You stared intently at his face, watching how his eyes glossed over and how he could barely hold your gaze. It was a different demeanor than what other people knew, one of the more human parts that made people fall in love with him.
You lifted his face towards yours. “I’m sorry.” The silence that followed after your statement determined he wasn’t interested in sharing anything deeper than the surface of the matter.
He looked back at Saltburn then back at you. “Don’t be.”
You scrunched your brows. “Hm?”
“I don’t know,” He said earnestly. “It’s not your fault, I should’ve listened to you earlier. You kept saying you had a bad feeling about him and I didn’t really take it to heart…til’ now I guess.”
“Oh, Felix,” You sighed, cupping his face, your hand over his jaw subliminally believing that it would release the tension he held there.
“He’s out tomorrow.” His hand caressed yours as it rested on his cheek.
“Really?”
“Really.” He confirmed. “Maybe now I can get you, alone, yeah?” His body pushed yours back down on the doc so he was hovering over you once again.
"Felix," You laughed. "Always distracting me, aren't you."
"No 'm not," he mumbled, nipping at your earlobe. "You weren't doing anything important anyways."
"I was going to ask another question," You giggled.
"Okay," He answered, pushing himself so that he kneeled above you, a knee on either side of your torso. "What?"
When he was playful like this he was such a beautiful sight in front of you, you almost felt bad asking him a question as if you were ruining the mood.
"You're not really kicking him out are you? I feel bad."
He sighed. "I am kicking him out and you shouldn't feel bad, he’s in the business of misery it’s almost like his job to make people feel bad." He crawled back over you once again, something heavier within him now. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw, his clouded eyes. His mouth made its way back to your body, this time trailing down your stomach, beginning to leave marks you knew you’d have to hide at the party tonight.
“Felix,” You frowned. “I just-”
He cut you off. “Enough, alright. He was a creep anyways, you said it yourself,” He told you and you nodded, internally agreeing.
“He’s going home after the party.”
The feel of his voice as he mumbled into your skin was enough for you to stop thinking about the situation for the moment. It wasn’t until nightfall you were reminded of Oliver's unrelenting presence—it was his birthday after all. Still, no matter where you were in Saltburn, you couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes upon you, you couldn’t help but feel that you were never alone.
"Can we go somewhere a little more private?" You asked Felix and he hardly registered the question. His hands up your dress the lights were dim, colored strobe lights bleeding in from the outside. The room was close to empty but the music could be heard throughout the house. You could ask him anything to anyone and it wouldn’t really mean anything—and it didn't help that the two of you were getting dizzy on champagne.
So, you didn't ask you question again but your eyes flickered to the maze that could be seen from the window and he understood what you wanted.
"Whatever you want, angel." He grinned, pulling his hands away to grab yours, taking you to the garden.
You scrunched your brows together. "I should be calling you that y'know."
He laughed with you. "You have wings too."
"But I'm a fairy"
"Close enough." You laughed to yourself as you and Felix walked through the house and towards the maze. There was a bottle of champagne in your left, Felix’s hand in your right, grounding you with each step. The more the time passed the less ideal it felt to walk in heels—you thought of ditching them all together. Still, they held the integrity of your costume, matching the chosen Midsummer Night's Dream theme. You'd dressed up as a fairy, donning flowers in your hair and a frilly slip dress, the costume obviously incomplete without wings.
Your heels pierced through the dirt once you’d made it to the grass, your feet sinking slightly with each step. You groaned to yourself, not going unnoticed by Felix.
“You okay?” He asked, stopping to turn to you.
“My heels,” You answered.
He furrowed his brows. “What about them?”
“Well…” You hesitated. “They’re killing my feet and they keep sinking into the dirt. They’re gonna get dirty.”
“We’ll we can’t have that know can we,” Felix replied, picking you in on fell swoop, your body now in his arms, your legs dangling from his grasp.
"Felix," You giggled his named through broken laughs, surprised with the immediacy of his action.
"What? You know I'd do anything for my best girl," He told you, returning the wide lipped smile on your face.
"I didn't ask you anything."
"You didn't have to."
You went limp in his arms as you sighed, comparable to an act of defiance as if you were annoyed, as if he did something wrong; but you knew he couldn't if he tried. He shook his head but the smirk on his lips was undeniable as he carried you the rest of the way to the center of the maze.
"You're insufferable, won't even let me carry you," He carped, putting you down and letting you lean against the cold metal of the statue as you put the bottle of champagne on the ground beside you.
"I did and you love me," You retorted, inching your face towards his, leaving a sliver of space between your lips. The bronze on your back that chilled your skin was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Felix's body, from the warmth of the air around you. It was intoxicating, his breath on your skin and the breeze of the wind. Looking up at him you could see that carnal glimmer in his eyes when his hands roamed your body only moments earlier, and this morning on the dock. It was something you craved and that was something he knew and savored the fact.
"Well I can't deny that," He smirked before closing the gap between the two of you. You could feel the indent of his grin as he kissed you, his lips turned up into a wicked smile, something more depraved, but still, nonetheless, Felix.
"Why don't I finished what I started earlier, love?" He asked against you not bothering to pull away and you only moaned in approval. His lips traveled from yours to the lobe of your ear so he knew you could hear him clearly.
"You need to use your words, darling."
"Yes," You keened, wanting—needing more than what was being given.
"Good girl," He hummed, his hands drawing down the straps of your dress before they traced down the rest of your body all the way to your thighs. He hooked his hands under them, lifting you to sit on the base of the statue.
"This okay?" He asked, looking into your eyes for conformation, the raise of his eyebrows encouraging it verbally as well.
"Yeah," You sighed breathelessly. "But I still need you."
He smirked again. "Let me fix that then."
Felix's hands gently lowered the front of your dress, exposing your breasts and taking one of them into his mouth, moaning around it.
"You're beautiful, darling" He mumbled, groaning as his tongue slid over your hard nipple. His words were genuine but you couldn't help but feel a little cheesy, kicking your foot playfully at his leg and you felt his erection, hard as you did so.
"And you know that already," He chuckled, sucking your nipple more aggressively. "But it's true." His words made you ache with impatience, whine with desire. Felix pulled back before lowering himself to his knees, his eyes not daring to leave yours. Only when he licked an agonizingly slow, sloppy stripe against your clothed cunt his eyes focused on the sight in front of him.
You breath hitched in anticipation as he pulled down your panties with his teeth and taking them off, shooting you a wink as he pocketed them. Immediately after his gaze moved back to your wet pussy, wasting no time in tasting you.
He dropped his head and his tongue slithered to your clit, flicking the pearl a few times before wrapping his lips around it. Your core was hot against his face, your scent, heady and electrifying; he could spend hours between your legs. Your hand went to claw at his hair, your fingers entangling with his brown locks.
"Ri-Right there," You breathed, attempting your best to string a coherent thought together, but it was hard when one of his hands massaged the outside of your thigh while the other came up to your empty hand. Your fingers interlocking, his thumb kneading the side of your palm as he sucked harder at your clit. You squeezed it as you released strangled moans, strained from the attempt to stay quiet.
"You can be louder, love. No one else is going to hear you except me." You didn't believe him, swearing you heard something in the bushes move along with the fact that there was a full blown party happening in his house right now; but you couldn't help yourself either.
He slipped two fingers into you, eliciting a lewd moan with ease. Your legs pressed together and he almost felt suffocated at the momentary feeling of being entirely enveloped by you—but it was exactly what he wanted.
"Oh God, Felix," You fingers digging deeper into his scalp and he groaned.
His movements were mindless and uncalculated, but they had you reeling each time. He knew your body like a book, where to touch to have your head spinning. The longer he spent between you legs, the louder your moans got, your hips helplessly bucking up to meet his fingers and mouth.
"Atta' girl," he murmured against you core. "Cum for me, love, I can feel you squeezing me."
Your movements got sloppier, raunchier, as your orgasm approached swiftly. It struck you like a bolt of lightning, your body overtaken with rapture and relief. Felix watched as you come down from your high, his fingers still working you over.
"You did so well f'me," He coaxed, finally removing his fingers from your core and scaling up your body, his moving to cling to yours and swallowing any soft moans you had left.
"Need you," You whispered as his lips nipped at yours.
"Need me or my cock?" He chuckled, drunk on you.
"You know what I mean," You replied, hands already to undo the buckle of his belt.
He stopped you before you could go any further. "I know, I just want to hear you say it, darling."
You rolled your eyes in annoyance, the smile on your lips indicating otherwise. His brows darted up, goading you on.
"Please?" He pressed and you exhaled in pleasure, in desire.
"Need you inside me, Felix." The corners of his mouth turned up into that smug smirk you've known for so long and he nodded in thanks.
"As you wish, my love."
He was rock hard, heavy and hot in your hands, precum dripping from his tip. You were just as wet and desperate as he reached down as he lined himself up with your entrance, sheathing himself inside you without another moment of hesitation. His arms caged your body under him as he hissed at the feeling. He gave you a a moment, letting you adjust to his size, his cock completely filling you up as he was buried deep inside of you.
"You're so tight," He praised as he kissed you, moaning into your mouth as he began to move. The pace of his hips started slow, gently rolling into yours, your clit brushing up into his pelvic bone at just the right angle. Felix tuned into how your moans falter when he hit just right spot, the sensation going straight to your core.
"Feels so good," You keened as you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you.
"Yeah? Tell me about it," He asked as he increased his pace, the speed of his pounding becoming relentless, evoking obscene noises from you. You wrapped your legs around his torso, heels digging into his back as you gave him the perfect angle to go even deeper as his cock hit your g-spot repeatedly.
You were sure your nails were going to leave a mark as they clawed into his shoulders while his hand slowly travelled to your core, rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit to help you reach your climax. You clenched around him in a manner so desperate, cunt fluttering around his cock. You didn’t have time to tell him you were cumming, screaming and sobbing as ecstasy hit you like a brick wall. You arched your back as his name fell from your lips again and again like a hopeless prayer. He followed suit seconds later, soaked with you as buried his head into the crook of your neck. He came with a strident cry as he bottomed out, filling you to the brim. You went limp under him as he panted weakly with his voice hoarse in your ear.
Still hazy from your climax your eyes widened as you saw Oliver walk into the maze. Felix didn't hear him, but he took note of your expression.
"What? Are you okay? What's-"
You interrupted him. "Oliver." Felix's head whipped around to the man standing behind him.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Felix exclaimed and you pulled your legs from his torso and fixed your dress. Felix pulled up his trousers, buckling up his belt before fully turning to face Oliver.
"What are you doing here, mate? I mean, really?" You didn't say anything, composing yourself as Felix stood in front of you. Oliver opened his mouth to speak but Felix cut him off before he could explain himself.
"Actually I don't wanna fucking know, I've seen enough." He sighed and looked back to check on you.
“I think you should go,” You said to Oliver. “Before you do anything more to embarrass yourself.” The words were harsh as they came out of your mouth but you didn’t know what else to say. You watched as he walked away with his shoulders slumped, no doubt some guilt weighing them down.
“Are you alright?” Felix asked you, turning back around. You nodded still processing what had just happened as it seemed the champagne had worn off a while ago. You grabbed the bottle off the ground and held it up, offering it to Felix with a smile he didn't hesitate to reciprocate back.
"To Oliver's fucking party!" You laughed confused as ever, taking a swig of the bottle before he grabbed it from you.
fandom: one piece
word count: 2.1k
warnings: nsfw 18+, caught in the act, jealous!zoro, possessiveness, spanking, praise, blowjob, face fucking, gagging, fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, squirting, overstimulation, cum marking, cum eating, creampie, aftercare, some unintentional homoerotic subtext if you squint
kinktober m.list || read on ao3
Grunts and skin slapping together are the only sounds in the room as Zoro fucks into you from behind.
Your arrangement with him was as simple as it could be, whenever the two of you were stressed, and whenever the other crew members were occupied, you would fuck. It was a lot easier than trying to pick up strangers from whatever bar you could find everytime you guys docked at a new town. The last time that happened, you may or may not have brought back someone that had a hidden vendetta against Luffy, and it resulted in yet another fight aboard the Going Merry.
Oh well. Mistakes happen.
You moan into the pillow beneath you, doing your best to conceal your sounds of pleasure. You were in Zoro’s bed, as all of the crew were out exploring the newest town
Despite that fact, it never hurts to be too careful.
And indeed, you were right. Because not even a minute later, you hear the door to the men’s quarters open and you gasp in surprise. You involuntarily clench around Zoro, making him hiss as you both turn to see who walked in.
Sanji stands in the doorway, jaw dropped and suit jacket halfway off his body.
Zoro turns to maneuver the bed sheets in a way that covers your body from Sanji’s eyes. You could tell that the cook was staring at you, just by the way his eyes completely avoid your gaze and he looks upward as a blush rises to his cheeks. He looks cuter than ever in that moment, and maybe it's because you have a dick inside of you at that very moment, but you desperately want to fuck him to see what other reactions you can get out of him.
“The fuck are you looking at?” Zoro growls out. The hand that was splayed across your hip tightens in anger the longer Sanji stands there. “Fucking scram.”
You could tell by his initial embarrassment that Sanji was planning on leaving, but Zoro’s reaction has him heated up, and you know that neither of them will let the other have the last word.
You roll your eyes and get settled in, waiting for the argument to begin.
Sanji tsks at Zoro, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “Putting her in such a degrading position like that, it’s a wonder she stays with you.”
“She stays with me ‘cause I fuck her right every time. Not like she’d have the same experience with you.”
“I’ll have you know that I’ve never gotten a single complaint about my performance in the bedroom!”
“Yeah, right. Like she’d ever go for you when she has me here.”
“A-actually,” you speak up for the first time during their spat. Both men turn to you, Sanji with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, and Zoro, who’s glare seems to scream don’t you dare, as if he knew exactly what you were going to suggest.
“Sanji,” you swallow, hoping you’re not making a mistake, “you should join us.”
“Join—?” He chokes on his spit, and you can see the way his cheeks turn red from his blush.
“Please?” you put on a classic pout that you know will make Sanji weak in the knees.
Hook, line, and sinker.
He scratches the back of his neck, feigning concession. But you can see the tent in his pants that is clear as day. “If you insist, madam.”
“Madam,” Zoro mutters from behind you, mocking Sanji’s choice of word. You kick at the back of his leg in warning.
Sanji approaches you in the front of the bed (staying as far away from Zoro as possible, you notice) and stares at you hesitantly. You motion him closer, and begin palming his erection through his pants. He moans softly, his hips subtly bucking into your touch.
Zoro, having enough of your attention pulled away from him, begins to thrust back into you from behind. The sudden movement has you moaning, and the force of it pushes you right into Sanji’s crotch.
The ship’s cook grabs your hair by the root and keeps you in place with one hand as he uses his other to undo his pants and free his cock from its constraints. His hard erection springs out, hitting you in the face, and without any prompting you stick it in your mouth, sucking on it furiously.
You bob your head up and down, swallowing him all the way down to the root. You swirl your tongue around the head, and Sanji’s grip in your hair tightens as he groans from the sensation.
“Better not make any noises over there, cook,” Zoro says. “I was planning on finishing.”
Sanji’s response comes back within a second. “I can’t help it when your woman is giving all her attention to me.”
You don’t even need to be looking at Zoro to know what his reaction is to that—you can just picture the glare that he gives Sanji as he slaps your ass and ruts his hips into you more.
The force of his cock filling you to the brim has you moaning around Sanji’s cock as your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your hands grip the sheets below you as you make a feeble attempt to stabilize yourself as you lay helpless between the two men who use your body for their pleasure.
Zoro does his best to ignore Sanji and occupies himself with grabbing the flesh of your ass and spreading you open wider than before. He bullies his cock deep inside of you, and the bulbous head reaches parts of you that have your vision going blurry and your mind going numb, only able to focus on how much he fills you up.
“You see this?” Zoro motions to you, and the way your body shakes in pleasure from his cock thrusting deep with you. “This is all ‘cause of me. You couldn’t make her feel even half as good.”
As you look up at Sanji through your teary vision, you can see the way his eyes narrow at Zoro’s fighting words. Suddenly your nose is pressed up against Sanji’s pubic bone, his cock stuffed all the way down your throat, you cough and gag around him, spit dribbling down the sides of your mouth yet he doesn’t relent.
He has one hand entangled in your hair at the scalp, and the other moves to wrap itself around your neck, gripping it lightly, feeling the imprint of his cock on your throat as he fucks it in and our of your mouth.
You moan around him, relishing in the sensation of fullness that you’re getting inside of you from both ends. Your hands move to grasp onto Sanji’s thighs and you suck down as much as you can on his cock, gagging as his cock reaches as far as it could possibly go within your mouth. Tears start to stream down your face now at the way he pounds himself all the way to the back of your throat.
Sanji looks down at your reaction, and then up at Zoro with his trademark smirk. “Seems like she’s too occupied enjoying my cock down her throat.”
Both men are relentless in trying to prove themselves, and you’re on the receiving end of it. It seems as though you’re never going to catch a break between the two of them. They constantly try and one up each other, with each new action or technique they try on you has you edging closer and closer to your eventual orgasm.
The final straw is when Zoro, through his relentless ruts into you, begins to stick his thick fingers inside of your pussy as well, curling them up in the perfect spots where he knows you’ll fall apart.
And you do. You attempt to pull a hand back and slap him against his arm to warn him or your incoming orgasm, but Sanji’s grip in your hair remains as solid as ever and you don’t have enough strength to pull yourself back.
Your arms flop to your side, weak and useless, the two men being the only things holding your body up now. Your screams of pleasure are muted around Sanji’s cock, but the vibrations from it have him groaning nonetheless.
Your orgasm comes like a colossal wave, crashing down onto you with so much pain and pleasure it becomes too overwhelming to bear. Your whole body goes rigid as you climax. Your pussy clenches like a vice around Zoro’s cock, and your mouth tightens around Sanji. The two men groan in unison as your release washes over you, squirting juices all over yourself and Zoro, who you can hear laughing (and probably mocking Sanji) from behind you.
Neither man lets you rest after your orgasm, though. They both continue to fuck you with intense vigor, as if it’s their dying wishes. It’s Sanji who finally folds first and cums, doing so by holding you by your hair as he smashes your face all the way to the base of his cock. His groans are loud and continuous as you suck down on him furiously, swallowing the jets of cum that shoot out of him.
A mix of your saliva and his cum leave the sides of your mouth as you do so, causing you to make a mess of his cock, slobbering all over it as he guides your head up and down.
“Fuck, so good for me,” he mutters out with his jaw clenched, just loud enough for you to hear, and you preen under the praise.
After he’s done cumming, you open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue for Sanji, showing him your empty mouth from swallowing all of him. And you’re glad you did so, because based on his lovesick expression alone it looked like he was about to cream himself for a second time that night.
Zoro cums soon after, his cock throbbing harshly as he buries himself to the hilt deep inside your pussy. He tends to be quiet when he cums, save for a few grunts here and there as the jets of hot liquid pour into you. But this time, you can hear him uttering praises to you.
“That’s it baby,” is what you hear the clearest through his groans, his voice gravely and deep. “Fuck, squeezing me so tightly. Could die in this pussy.”
If you literally didn’t just have your orgasm a second ago, you probably would have cum again right then and there.
Zoro always came inside of you whenever you two fucked, insisting on going bare. You never minded it; it felt better without a condom on, anyways. But you always knew that the reason why Zoro truly did it was because he loved marking you with his cum, seeing it drip outside of your pussy whenever he finished.
The swordsman reluctantly leaves your pussy after he cums. He watches the way the excess liquid seeps outside of your pussy, which still clenches around nothing, desperately looking for his cock again. He scoops it up with his fingers, pushing it back inside of you and barks out a laugh at the way you moan pathetically and your pussy walls quiver as they constrict around the shape of him.
He takes some of the excess left on his fingers and wipes it across your ass, rubbing it into your skin.
It takes you a couple of moments for you to finally open your eyes and register your surroundings after all of that. Zoro is wiping you with a wet cloth, and you see Sanji coming back in with a glass of water and a snack he no doubt whipped up quickly, then and there.
Once you’re finally calmed down from the overstimulation and cleaned off from all of the stickiness, you roll back into Zoro’s bed with a sigh collapsing from the exhaustion. Zoro moves in next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and rubbing circles into your skin.
Sanji glances at the two of you. “Room for one more?” he asks cheekily.
Zoro glares at Sanji and his arm tightens around you. “Fuck no. Piss off.”
He closes his eyes, and within seconds he’s snoring away, dead to the world.
You look over at Sanji and roll your eyes at Zoro’s words. Silently, you scootch over in the bed, making some room for him. You motion with your hand for him to climb in, and he does so gladly, nestling himself into your body. With Zoro’s arm around you and your face resting in the crook of Sanji’s neck, you’re able to fall asleep quickly and peacefully sandwiched between your two favorite boys, not having a single care in the world.
im sorry for this one guys (may god help me repent for my sins)
stepbro! luffy, zoro, sanji x fem!reader
in which you'e living out a fucked-up fantasy
warnings: very taboo subject, porn without plot, please dont read if uncomfortable!!!, the guys are lowkey toxic (sorry again), penetration, doin' it raw (use protection plz), oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), derogatory, literally uses porn logic im sorry; MDNI (this is for the best i promise)
luffy:
"lu-luffy" the gasp turns into a choked moan as the man in front of you drills into you harder, his fingers digging into your cheek absentmindedly
his words are a whisper, as if he gives two shits about getting caught. liar, if he cared about getting caught fucking you he wouldn't have walked into your room at 2 in the morning when your parents are one room down the hall and practically kissed you till you were pulling his pants down and begging him to fuck you till you forgot about everything else
"what's wrong?" he pants, laughing out a bit, "gon' cum on my dick again, yn? am i doing that good huh?"
your words are an incohorent jamble, just a rough selection of pretty moans, groans and broken cries of his name
"j-just like that. ngh, fuck. fuckin' take it" he thrusts, his cock stretching your cunt as he slams hard against you again and again
your eyes are closing fast, teeth sinking down on your bottom lip as you feel your body convulse, being flooded by the oncoming orgasm
"eyes on me" he flashes you a cocky smile as his cock buries deeper within your cunt, filling every inch of your pussy with himself
and then he's moving faster, more erratically as if he's losing sanity by the second
"please, yn. please, please, pl-ease" he mumbles, "let me cum
inside."
zoro:
all of your concerns of your parents walking into the living room in the middle of the night and seeing you and your older step-brother tangled together had flew out the second you felt him against your cunt.
your hands pull at the familiar green locks, tugging and tugging as you feel kitten licks against your overstimulated clit. his tongue plays with your core, going up and down, sideways and in circles till your hips are bucking up and your hand is pushing him down harder against your cunt.
"zo-zoro, zoro fuck, imsofuc- fucking close"
as if on cue, his actions become harsher. he alternated cruelly between sucking and softly kissing, his hums and moans against your cunt deepening the coil in your stomach till its all you can feel. in your blood-stream, against your skin, in the back of your skull. and then, with another particularly harsh kiss against the bundle on nerves, you cum.
thighs shaking, eyes closed and back arching off his mattress. you cum hard.
but his tongue is still lapping up against your folds. stroking the nub up and down, tongue slipping into your leaking entrance with practiced ease, humming as you squirm and force his face away.
your fingers are pulling deftly against his scalp, tugging till it pains him enough to stop but as retaliation, he curls his biceps against your thigh, burying his face harder against your aching cunt.
"zo-zoro, no please please, no" you whine, arching into his touch as he continues his assault against your core, "it's too sen-sitive, please."
his head lifts for just a moment, lips drenched in your essence and a cocky grin plastered onto every inch of his face. his bottom lip juts out, "aww too much?"
you nod frantically and he smirked, "too bad im having the time of my life then." one of his arms reach upwards, putting two fingers in your mouth, "suck."
and he dived back in.
sanji:
"yn, love" he whines when your hands skim over his pants for the millionth time this evening, "we're supposed to do laundry, quit teasin'."
you were supposed to be doing laundry and he was supposed to be helping you out. but somehow, cramped inside that small room, behind those closed doors your lips had come to ghost over his and his hands fleetingly touched your waist.
"what?" you giggled, teasing him through his sweats again, "i thought i could repay you for the favor last night."
"really?" he corks up an eyebrow, his fingers finding peace against your cheeks, "get down on your knees then"
"but what if your mom walked in-"
"as if a whore like you fucking cares. knees, now."
you flashed him a light smile, getting down till you were face to face with his erection. your fingers swiftly pulled his sweats down and you looked up at him doe-eyed when his cock hit against your lips with a salty, lingering taste. his large palm against the back of your head guided you till you were taking in his dick, sucking intently on every inch.
"fuck, darlin', just like that. yn fuu-fuck", he moaned as you swirled your tongue on his tip, then tracing over the light vein imprints. when he bucked his hips into your mouth harder and pushed you in deeper, you hummed against him, choking at the sudden intrusion.
continuing your movements till you felt your jaw go slack, you heard his ragged breathing before he whispered a faint, "fuck i'm gunna cum, sh-shit"
with a bit of his essence dripping off your chin, you look up at your step-brother. his gaze intertwined with lust, he gives you a smirk, "good fuckin' girl"
a/n: supposed to be on hiatus but who cares at this point, hope you like it
