I physically NEED jason and roy fucking me together
Okay fine, my arm has been twisted. Let's talk about a JayRoy 3-way, but specifically, I wanna talk about Roy using your body to teach virgin/inexperienced Jay about sex.
Sitting with your back to Roy's chest, your legs draped over his, kept spread nice and wide for Jay to get a good look at.
He spits on his hand before pulling apart your lips, making sure Jay gets a good look at every part of your folds. Despite the coarseness of his freckled skin and the muscle behind it, he's so soft when he kisses your neck and whispers in your ear. “Fuuuuckkk. You're so wet, baby.”
Then he nuzzles his nose into your neck, warming your skin as he addresses Jason. “That's how you know she wants it.”
Then he starts playing with your clit. The beds of his fingers are hard, but he's dexterous and fast, both results from years are archery and tinkering. The position he has you in leaves you so exposed, putting you even more on edge as he makes your body twist and shudders under his touch, but no matter how vulnerable you feel, how embarrassing it might be to lose all composure under nothing but the tips of his fingers, none of it compares to Jason whose watching every second wide-eyed and red-faced.
His fists are in his shirt, practically pulling it apart at the seams as he tries to occupy them with anything other than shoving them down his pants.
You're in no state to really pay close attention, but you can't recall the last time he blinked, his big round eyes are captivated by your every move, he’s on the edge of his seat listening to Roy’s every word as the redhead explains each move. How brushing your sweet spot soft and slow makes you needy, makes you buck your hips as you silently beg for more, and building pressure and speed is what truly makes you come undone.
But despite bringing you right up to it, Roy doesn't take you over the edge. Instead, he wraps his arms tight around you until you quit squirming and begging, until your heartbeat slows back down, offering Jay an almost blank slate to start fresh on as he keeps your legs and lips parted.
Jay- his hands aren't so nimble. His thick, hard fingers work slowly and clumsily as he tries to emulate what he's just watched. His eyes are still locked on you, so intensely that it takes your breath away. He's watching for tells, trying to gauge your reaction to every stroke and flick of his fingers. His bitten lips breaking into a smile every time a moan escapes your lips.
All the while Roy is still at your ear, praising you both. “You're such a good girl, sitting still for us” and “isn't Jay doing such a top job, making you feel good? Yeah? Tell him.”
As you get closer and closer, legs tightly squeezing around his thighs, Roy tells Jay to push two fingers inside you.
Jason hesitates slightly, watching your face for signs of distress as he follows orders, his lengthy digits slipping inside of you with ease, but he finds only ecstasy in your features. The smile that has been ghosting his lips cracks into a real, pride-filled grin as you release into his hands. The lids of his wide eyes faltering, narrowing into a look so predatory and evocative that even Roy lets out a deep, rattled huff of breath.
Jay sucks your slick from his fingers, grunts of enjoyment keeping you on the edge of your seat Roy’s lap but when asked “That good, J-Bird?” Jason turns red and sheepish again, nodding his head and averting his gaze.
And your night continues much like that, each man taking turns to spread and pose your body for the others' convenience. Roy showing off, toying with your body, bringing you to the edge with his tongue, his fingers, his cock, over and over, getting you wound up and keeping you ready, but always pulling back at the pinnacle moment so that Jay can have the honour of taking you there himself.
With every achievement, Jay builds his confidence, maybe even gets a bit cocky seeing you lose yourself, give yourself up even, sandwiched between them, cumming over and over.
He comments on how dumb you look much to Roy’s amusement. Pointing out how you're slack-jawed, and glassy-eyed, panting at even the slightest touch. He finds the tender spot at the back of your neck and runs his tongue over it every time you try to squeeze out a comeback, or anything that isn't “fuck, Roy, please! Jason more moremoremore..”
All of that changes though when Roy lowers you onto Jay’s cock, especially once they’re both inside you, rubbing against each other with only the thin back wall of your pussy between them. The combination of your tight core, your sweet gasping, Roy’s encouragement “Atta boy, Jay. That's it, that stretch feels good, don’t it? Keep going.” all of it, has him close to cuming in minutes.
It’s a struggle for him, trying to find an outlet, a distraction to keep from pumping you full of cum embarrassingly fast, but all he can think to do is squeeze you tighter, a thought that scares the shit out of him, for fear you’ll shatter under his touch.
In the end, its Roy who clocks on and pulls him through it, pinning his hand above his head even though Jay’s grip is like a vice.
He still doesn't last much longer than he’d hoped though, it's all a bit too much, too good, too intimate. He blows his load with his eyes squeezed shut, and his teeth gritted, calling your name until the last second. Then he begs Roy to keep you in the same position, watching from below and Roy keeps pounding into your ass, whispering in your ear, kissing on your neck. He watches as his cum leaks out of your pussy, dripping back onto his softening cock. He watches as yet another orgasm wracks through you, how the sheen of sweat on your bodies makes you both glow. Watches the menace and gratification in Roy’s eye as he fucks you through it, one last time before filling your other hole.
And when it's all over it's basically a dog pile. You; still stuck between their thick, clammy bodies. Jay; clinging to you both for as long as you’ll let him. Roy; unable to stay still for long, being the first to roll out of the bed in search of water and other post-sex necessities for all of you.
Roy also being the first one to broach the subject of round two. He’s pushy about it. Now that he’s shown Jason the ropes he wants a chance to be more selfish with you. And Jay certainly isn't gonna pass on the chance to show you he can go a lot longer.
<3
Likes are highly appreciated, but comments and reblogs are cherished!
I hate how since my last post about restraint I’ve been getting questions on how to properly restrain people. I am NOT a professional. I figured out what was best for me and that’s that.
Do not ask a random person on the internet how to restrain people. It’s not good.
TW: Restraining, mild language, nightmare, panic, forced to repeat things
When Villain arrived back at the house, they were still seething. They paced the floor in the kitchen, occasionally kicking the cabinet doors, until there was a scream.
It was Hero.
Villain's face paled instantly and worry overwhelmed their anger as they ran to check on Hero. When Villain threw open the door to Hero's room, Hero was thrashing violently in bed, calling weakly for help and pleading with an invisible torturer. Villain rushed to their side.
"Hero! Hero, wake up, it's just a bad dream." As soon as Villain touched Hero, Hero screamed again and took a blind swing at Villain.
"No! St-stop it!"
"Hero!" Villain caught Hero's hands. "Calm down!"
Hero tried desperately to rip away from villain, kicking and fighting. After a second of hesitation, Villain swung their leg over Hero, straddling their hips to hold them still, and pinning their hands above their head.
Hero's eyes snapped open and fixed on Villain. For a moment, they stilled, before being to thrash again. "L-let me go! Please! D-don’t hurt me!"
"Hero... Hero. Hero! Dammit, calm down, stop kicking! I'm not going to hurt you." Hero didn't listen to Villain until they shouted. "Stop kicking and look at me!"
Hero fell still, trembling and hyperventilating, but no longer kicking.
Villain's heart skipped when they saw the fear in Hero's eyes. They softened their voice. "It's okay, Hero. I'm not going to hurt you."
"I d-don’t believe you, why... why should I b-believe you?"
"I've done nothing but help you the whole time you've been here, remember? I'm not going to hurt you." Hero pulled against Villains hold on their wrists again. "Stop. Say it. I'm not going to hurt you."
"Y-you... you're n-not going to hurt m-me..."
"Good. Take a breath. I'm trying to help you. Say it."
"You're... t-trying to help me..."
Villain loosened their hold on Hero's wrists. "Everything's going to be okay."
"E-everything's going to be okay..."
"That’s good. Just breathe. It's okay."
"It's okay..." Hero repeated absently.
Villain let go of Hero and got off them. "Are you feeling better now? Do you want to talk about that nightmare?"
"I-I’m better now... I'm alright... S-sorry... sorry for f-fighting you..."
"It's okay." Villain sat next the bed, heart pricked by the knowledge that they were, in fact, enjoying this a bit.
cw: derogatory use of the word 'whore', heavily implied noncon, implied past noncon, convinced (not quite forced) to drink.
The storm was still alive as Reid dragged Isidro back to the dock. His feet slipped in the mud as the horses brayed behind him; frightened by the most recent crack of thunder.
“Ye couldn’t even answer what ye were!” Reid laughed through the rain, “My brother pegged ye for a whore. Now I know he was right!”
Isidro's bloodied lips curled in a snarl, “Your brother was a fu- gah!”
Before he could finish, Reid had his hair in a fist, pulling his head back with the other around the chain behind his back. The sudden movement made him dizzy, and he fell back into Reid’s chest.
“Best not speak ill of ye future mates, aye? Seein’ as how ye just lost ye only one.”
The pirate slammed Isidro face-first onto the table. His heart drummed against his chest in a panic, catching in his throat as lightning flashed. The rain kept on it’s onslaught, pummeling Isidro down into the table where his body shook from the cold; running down his aching body and to his frozen toes.
Then the rain settled, and Isidro felt a warmth on his back, and the singe of pressure on his hand. He dared to look, realizing with horror that Reid was draped over him—lips pressed to his ear.
“Ye old boss knew what ye were good for.”
His voice had danger dripping from his lips. Isidro stilled, suddenly not cold at all. Instead he was focused on the feeling of Reid’s body on his, and the way his leg had found it’s way between his own, kicking them wide as he pinned him down.
“Maybe I should follow suit. Let any pirate that comes ashore have their way with ye.” Reid’s breath fell on him. “While I take my time with Theodora.”
Isidro trembled. Reid’s hands gently trailed down his scarred back before lingering at his waistline.
“In fact, I think I’ll like the way ye scream just as much as her.”
The threat made him try and wiggle out from underneath, earning the sharpness of Reid’s elbow in the middle of his back.
“No, no,” his low laugh rolled into the Isidro's ear, which carried to his heart that beat against his chest like the fist of a man buried alive.
Suddenly, he was reeling through the past, wondering what he had done to provoke this. The questions, and their possible answers, ensnared him into a suffocated, panicked silence.
He drowned in the ceaseless rain, unable to keep his broken sobs from falling over his swollen tongue which quickly turned into screams of pain mixed with sounds of desperation—a siren of the war within his body.
Isidro grit his teeth and retreated, allowing the pirate’s mocks to fade into the background; instead tuning in to the rain on his skin, and the wind wicking across his bare back that ached from the cold and sent a deep chill down his exhausted spine.
When the pirate tossed his spent body back into the water-logged cell, he curled in on himself, letting the water wash away the lingering burn of Reid’s fingers indented into his skin.
“See ye tomorrow, fish bait.”
Isidro lie in a heap, unable to feel much except for the throbbing of his hand and the burning hollowness at his center. He blinked, and retreated further, breathing out with an exhausted groan as another shiver wracked his wearied muscles.
“Y-yes, sir.”
...
Reid slammed the door and kicked off his muddy boots. Moss hadn’t moved, though now his legs were splayed out in a V, and his back was fully against the bottom of the frame.
The pirate passed by, making it to his bed where he changed out of his sopping clothes; stopping at his shirt. Bright red streaks of blood were in the fibers where he had leaned over the sailor’s severed fingers. He traced his thumb over the stain, then balled up the shirt and tossed it in the back of the fire.
The lad didn’t stir even after his shackle was loosed. Reid left the other side there even though it really didn’t belong on his dead brother’s bed. Maybe it would serve as a neat little reminder. He might’ve promised Moss a semblance of freedom, but he never said it would last.
“Ye still hungry?”
Moss shook his head.
The pirate retreated with a tired sigh and swiped a half-full bottle from the table. He sat down in front of the fire and leaned back, warming his toes as he uncorked it with his teeth. It went down with a splash.
“Full belly, liquor, a roaring fire, and some rain.” He twisted around to peer at Moss from his chair. “Can’t ask for much else, can ye, lad?”
Moss still didn’t look up.
“C’mere. Drink with me.”
“I'm fine, thanks.”
The usual bitter bite in his tone was gone, replaced by the flat response. Reid smirked, then took a small sip, wiping the pleasure off his face along with the small dollop on the back of his hand.
“Sure ye are,” He held the bottle out. “Ye friend lies to ye and ye jus' fine, aye?”
There was a pause, filled by the rain and the crackling fire. Then there came a quiet shuffle, and Moss’ arm appeared, stretching toward the bottle from his hands and knees. Reid pulled it away slightly, looking into Moss’ eyes before flicking out a finger towards the only other chair.
“Take a seat, lad.”
He didn’t argue. No one in their right mind would argue against a chair and a bed, but friendship and all the other sentimental garbage that comes with it clouds even a sane person’s judgement. He’d seen it; experienced it himself. It wasn’t worth the trouble.
Moss crawled, his bad leg trailing behind him awkwardly like an injured dog. He lift himself into the chair, releasing a pained groan as he slowly settled back, then sighed. His body looked tense, with unsure eyes muddied by the orange flame as he massaged the muscles around his wound. Another roll of thunder came and went.
Reid took a swig, then handed it over. Moss grabbed it and put it under his nose; coughing after he took a whiff. Then he drank, coughing again.
“More.”
He shook his head. “I can't.”
“Why not?”
“I don't want to.”
“Ye sure?”
Reid didn’t bother looking at him again, instead focusing on the fire, tossing in the memories of a moment ago as the remnants of his shirt were wicked up by the flames—carried up the chimney in a plume of black smoke.
The lad drank again. Then again.
Before long, Moss’ cheeks were painted with a bit of color stretching across his nose. His eyelids drooped, and his body settled into the chair.
Giving the lad a double dose of the powder was enough to knock him out hard enough to allow Reid to re-dress his wound. It was red and swollen, with swamp algae clinging around and inside it. He flushed it out, and Moss barely responded. If a little powder did that, he couldn’t wait to see what the liquor would do.
“Still not hungry?”
Another shake of the head, and the bottle dropped to the ground.
“Ye feel hurt.” Reid sighed, rocking with a bit of contemplation. “Can’t help that. Everyone has somethin’ to hide. ‘Specially the likes of him.”
Moss grunt. “Tha’s not what bothered me.”
“Oh?”
The lad shook his head. “I’m gonna lie down...” his eye flashed over to Reid, then back to the fire. “If that’s okay.”
Reid smiled. “Aye, lad. Just fine.”
He used the chair to stand, then limped away. His right foot hit the floor with almost his entire weight, making it only a few steps before he resolved to crawl again.
The door shut, and Reid pushed himself out of the chair and towards the small cupboard where another five full bottles were nestled, safe. He opened another and took a drink, letting it fill him out and lift him over to his bed just a few paces away.
The whole ordeal made him almost optimistic. He lie down, setting the bottle on the ground and smirked, not even bothering to lock the door before falling asleep.
