౨ৎ

casually doing sm

[user01031978]

welcome to my blog ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

ﻌ

she/her

ˠ 07

me if writing ab dead fandoms and underrated characters was a job:

also i love making sub!characters so yes you'll find that here ♡

My Masterlist so far:

movies/tv shows:

mcu ↣ “crybaby” (tobey!peter parker x fem!reader) 🔞

bridgerton ↣ “lovelier girl” (sophie baek x fem!reader) 🔞

stargate sg1 ↣ “you are the right one” (daniel jackson x fem!reader) 🔞

games/visual novels:

monster x mediator ↣ “that boy is a monster” (nauseaxe_404 x fem!reader) 🔞

[user01031978]

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎.

pairing: daniel jackson x you (fem) 🔞​

summery: daniel jackson is terrible at being subtle when it comes to his secret relationship with you

tags: secret relationship, daniel jackson touch-starved, handjobs, fluff and smut, kinda sub!daniel jackson, sensitive daniel jackson, established relationship, semi-public sex, praise kink, daniel jackson being whipped

words: 1.7k

The fluorescent lights of the SGC corridor flicker overhead as Daniel catches you alone near the library. His glasses are slightly askew, hair messy like he's been buried in research again.

"Hey, I've been looking everywhere for you," he says, falling into step beside you.

You glance sideways at Daniel, his typical 'absent-minded professor' demeanor at odds with the secret smile tugging at your lips. Knowing what's hidden beneath that innocent exterior—the intelligence, the courage, the way he looks when he's not wearing those glasses—makes your heart skip a beat.

Daniel leads you to the library, his hand 'accidentally' brushing against yours as he opens the door. Once inside, he locks it quietly behind them. His glasses come off next, folding neatly into his pocket before he turns to face you with clear intent in his eyes. "I needed some…”

"...private consultation," Daniel finishes, his voice dropping into that soft, earnest register he uses when explaining ancient dialects, though there's nothing academic about the way he's backing you against the nearest bookshelf. His glasses are gone, leaving his blue eyes startlingly direct and focused.

"You've been avoiding me," he murmurs, though it sounds less like an accusation and more like a genuine archaeological observation. He braces one hand against the shelf beside your head, caging you in with that lanky, unassuming frame. "I ran the stats on our interaction times over the last week. Significant decrease."

His fingers trace the line of your jaw, incredibly gentle.

"I've missed you," he admits softly, his other hand joining the first against the shelf. He's close enough now that you can feel his breath, smell that faint scent of old books and coffee he always carries.

"You know we can't let anyone see us," you remind him, stroking his arm. Daniel lowers his gaze at the decidedly loving gesture, and you'd bet you felt his weight press against your hand, as if he needed it.

"I know, I know," he whispers, leaning into your touch like a cat. Daniel's mind works in patterns, layers—he thinks in probabilities and connections, in languages and histories that span galaxies. But when it comes to you, all that complex machinery simplifies into something beautifully, devastatingly human.

"Doesn't change how I feel though. I'm terrible at hiding it." He tells you and smiles, clearly embarrassed by the sudden confession. You loved this side of Daniel, it always made you fall even more in love with him.

"Daniel," you breathe, your hand sliding up to cup his cheek. His skin is soft, faint stubble catching your palm. He nuzzles into your touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "You babble when you're nervous."

"You're worth the babbling," he says against your fingertips, then presses a kiss to your palm.

Before you can respond, Daniel's lips find yours—not a desperate, hungry kiss, but something tender and patient, like he's savoring you. His fingers thread through your hair, gentle but insistent. When he pulls back, his pupils are blown wide behind those now-absent glasses, cheeks flushed pink.

"I kept finding reasons to walk past your quarters," he confesses breathlessly.

"I noticed," you murmur back, smiling against his lips. "I saw you 'accidentally' dropping reports outside my door three times this week." Daniel laughs softly, the sound vibrating through both of you.

"I couldn't help it. Seeing your door closed drives me crazy.”

"You're ridiculous," you whisper affectionately, forehead resting against his. "You know anyone could see you. You're terrible at being subtle." Daniel shrugs slightly, his smug smirk evident even without glasses. "Maybe I don't care about being subtle when it comes to you.”

He dips his head, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Besides, Jack already suspects. Sam definitely knows. Teal'c..." He pauses, a thoughtful furrow between his brows. "Teal'c just raises his eyebrow in that way that means he knows everything..." You can't help but stare at him, mesmerized, he's so cute when he's worried like this. You linger on his eyes and then on his lips. They look so soft. His eyes are a light color like the sea usually, but now they seem midnight blue as if they change when he's with you.

"...Then why all the sneaking around?" You hadn't listened much to his speech, even his voice had mesmerized you. Daniel looks at you confused and notices that you weren't listening. "Are you-", before he could form a concrete sentence, you kiss him, pulling his body even closer to yours.

Daniel answers the kiss instantly, parting his lips under yours with a soft sound that goes straight to your head. His hands dive into your hair, gripping tightly as he pulls you even closer, one leg sliding between both of yours. "Didn't you say no one could see us?", Daniel tells you after kissing you deeply.

"They can't," you murmur back, already distracted by his mouth again. "Door's locked." "Right," he breathes, sounding dazed as you kiss him again. "But they can always hear us, so don't make noise," you add, looking at him amused, knowing how Daniel is in bed. You generally like to be dominant with him, also because Daniel lets himself be at your mercy.

He nods, his face redder than before, and begins to give you delicate kisses on your neck. His lips on your skin give you butterflies in your stomach. At the same time, his hands are on your hips, not a tight grip but one that makes you want to ask for more.

"Shh," you whisper, threading your fingers through his messy hair, guiding his mouth exactly where you want it. He complies instantly, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. It’s intoxicating how quickly he surrenders control, his usual academic brilliance dissolving into pure instinct.

Meanwhile, you are fumbling with his pants, freeing his throbbing member. He still has his boxers on but you can't wait any longer and start touching him.

Daniel groans instinctively in your ear, you can feel his cock leaking a little. He's so damn sensitive. "Touch me please, I can't take it anymore," he says to your neck, his grip on your hips tightening.

"Be quiet, Daniel," you remind him, your voice a low command against his ear as you stroke him firmly through the thin cotton of his boxers. His hips buck instantly, a desperate, reflexive movement he can't control. "Remember? No noise."

Daniel bites his lip, hard, suppressing a whine as his head drops forward onto your shoulder. "I know…”

"Good boy," you murmur approvingly, watching as he struggles to stay quiet. Your praise seems to turn him on even more - his cock twitches in your hand. You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down just enough to free him completely. He lets one of his hands wander over your chest, lingering on your breast.

He's always gentle when he touches you, you can feel his shyness, his control, and his devotion in his touches. He cups your breast with his large hand and caresses your nipple. The sensation is heavenly and you move closer to seek friction against his thigh.

You stroke his bare length now, your thumb swiping over the sensitive tip to collect the bead of moisture gathering there. Daniel chokes back a broken sob against your shoulder, his entire body trembling.

His hand on your breast stills momentarily, overwhelmed by the pleasure sparking down his spine. "Please..." he whispers, the sound barely audible. "I need…"

"Need what, Daniel?" You ask, your voice low and teasing as you continue to stroke him slowly. He swallows hard, his fingers tightening around your breast before he gently squeezes it. "I feel so close-," he whispers hoarsely, his face buried in your neck. You move your hand faster, pressing into his thigh at the same time.

It was almost lunchtime, and you knew very well that someone would be looking for you soon. Much to your regret, you had to hurry.

"Come for me, Daniel," you whisper urgently, pumping his cock faster.

"Quickly, before someone comes looking for us." That does it. With a muffled cry against your neck, Daniel comes undone, his release pulsing out over your hand as his body convulses in your arms.

"And you..? I want to make you come -", he says, breathing heavily. You can feel yourself getting wet as he speaks, so you pull away a little. You know that if you stayed this close to him, you would let him do anything he wants. You pick up his glasses resting on his pocket and give them to him.

"Not now," you say softly, pressing his glasses into his trembling hands. "We're out of time, Daniel." You quickly grab a few tissues from the desk, cleaning your hand and then gently wiping him down. He stands there, blinking rapidly as he puts his glasses back on, looking thoroughly debauched and utterly adorable.

You adjust your clothes quickly, fixing your shirt and pants. Daniel stands frozen for a moment, watching you with dazed eyes before he scrambles to pull up his boxers and pants, fumbling slightly with the zipper.

There's a knock at the door. "Daniel? Are you in there? We need you in the briefing room in five minutes.”

Daniel jumps slightly, his face pale behind his glasses. He runs a hand through his messy hair, trying to tame it.

"Y-yes, I'm coming," he calls out, his voice slightly hoarse. He looks at you, his eyes filled with unspent desire and frustration.

"Tonight I'll make it up to you, I promise you," he says as he kisses you softly.

You nod, pressing a quick finger to his lips to silence any further talking. "Go. I'll find you later."

He lingers for another second, clearly reluctant to leave, then he's gone—walking briskly down the corridor, his step a little unsteady, his shirt not quite tucked in properly.

As the door clicks shut behind him, you lean against the desk, taking a deep breath. Your heart is still racing, your body still buzzing with unfulfilled desire. You can't wait for tonight. You know Daniel will keep his promise, he always does.

[user01031978]

That boy is a monster!

nauseaxe_404/“your biggest fan” x you (fem)

porn with no plot, one shot

Spending more time in the hotel, you started calling him Nick. Every time you said that name, he became euphoric and excited, grabbing his axe to calm himself down. You loved to see him like that, especially when he suffered from being touched by you.

You often tease him by touching him a little, especially his toned pectorals or his big biceps. He moans, writhed, pressed against you. He is extremely sensitive. But the moment he crosses that line and actually begins, any trace of hesitation completely vanishes. There are no apologies, no checking in, no pulling back—he enters a state of pure, unadulterated fixation where he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. It is terrifying how someone so massive can be so utterly consumed by his own hunger. The sheer contrast between his intimidating, muscular frame and this mindless, unstoppable drive is intoxicating. He doesn't beg for permission; he just takes and gives, whimpering not out of guilt, but from the sheer, overwhelming sensory overload of finally having his deity beneath him. 

He is entirely driven by a raw, pathologically relentless instinct to possess you, his heavy pants and rough grip making it clear that you are completely at his mercy until he is entirely done with you. He is incredibly loud in bed, completely unable to contain the embarrassing, desperate sounds breaking from his throat. He loses all control over his voice, whimpering and stuttering your praise like a broken record, vibrating against your skin with a breathless, shaky: "S-s-superstar, you're sooo good... sooo good for me, I love you, I love you, I love you!”

You like to play with his cock, but many times you have to stop otherwise he would kill you from pleasure, literally opening you up. One thing is for sure, he's great with his hands. He lives to touch you and reach your depths. Sometimes you had to stop him because he pushed too deep inside you. He opens you up, he consumes you like a gourmet meal. You are his superstar, his deity. You are everything to him and he shows it to you, overwhelming your boundaries whatever he does. He is always too strong, too wet, too open, too slow, or too fast. He gives you too much pleasure and you can't make him stop.

He wants you to feel as much pleasure as possible, giving you too many orgasms. His fingers are already huge, his tongue is even more so, and he pushes, pushes, pushes until he hears you whimpering with pleasure. You try to make him stop by moving his hood, but it's no use. He remains still, doing his job, devouring you completely. In fact, he gets fiercely protective of that fabric covering his face; if your fingers stray too close to the edges, trying to pull it off entirely, he gently but firmly pins your wrists down, whimpering in protest. He is terrified of you seeing whatever lies beneath—afraid his raw, monstrous vulnerability might disgust his deity. Instead, the heavy fabric of his mask stays on, quickly becoming damp with his hot, ragged breaths and sweat as he works over you. The only thing he allows you to see are his eyes through the rough cutouts.

When he's finished with his fingers and his tongue, his cock quivers to enter you. It's huge, veiny, and wet with cum (he probably came already while licking you and getting hard again at the mere thought of you).

(He can get excited in very little time, it's endless.)

When it sinks into you, you can't move, you feel completely open and filled. The pace of his thrusts is completely erratic, dictated only by his overwhelming emotions in that exact moment—shifting from desperate, slow friction to frantic, bruising speed. He absolutely adores missionary because he can look at you, with those heart-shaped eyes of his. In fact, he watches you most of the time, attracted by how you react or how your breasts bounce with his strong thrusts. He has a sort of obsession (seriously..) for your breasts, he loves touching them, licking them, squeezing them while he continues to push, push, push inside you.

When you're done (after a loooong time), he hugs you, his face buried in your neck. He clings to you with a desperation that borders on terrifying, his massive arms wrapping around you so tightly it almost takes your breath away, as if he’s genuinely convinced you might vanish into thin air the second he loosens his grip. He starts making those low, almost non-human sounds in the back of his throat—a needy, vibrating hum of pure contentment, completely drunk on your scent and your warmth. You can feel the heavy thump of his heart against your chest, still racing, still worshiping you. And if you move even a fraction, accidentally brushing against his cock, it becomes hard as a rock in seconds, ready for another round. He doesn't care how exhausted he is; his body reacts instantly to you, driven by a bottomless, insatiable need to be consumed by his deity all over again.

cr art: pyanyasha

[user01031978]

Lovelier Girl

pairing: sophie baek x you (fem)

summery: what you do to relax is absolutely platonic 🔞​

tags: angst and comfort, fingering, you!servant, romantic stuff, fluff, porn with some plot, bed sex, creaking bed, fingerfucking, clit to clit,  fuck buddies (in a way) to lovers, open ending, hot and sweet, reference to canon, slightly sub!sophie baek

words: 2.6k

The attic room is cramped and dimly lit, the only sound is the distant chatter of the household below. Sophie sits on the edge of her narrow bed, her shoulders slumped under the weight of Lady Penwood's endless cruelty today. You have slipped into her room unnoticed, locking the door behind you.

"They are impossible," Sophie whispers, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes to stem the tears. "Lady Penwood found fault with the way I polished the silver. Again. She speaks to me as though I am worthless." She looks up at you, her dark eyes shining with unshed emotion, her beautiful face etched with exhaustion.

Two months had passed since you were hired by Lady Penwood. During all that time, Sophie had been tasked with "teaching" you everything, thus spending most of her time with you.

Obviously, this led to the birth of a strong friendship between you two, which sometimes ended in cuddling each other. It happened when evening arrived, and Sophie would punctually enter your room without knocking, unnerved by the Penwood family.

You knew in that moment what would happen next, it had become a matter of habit. It was just about satisfying each other in a platonic way... Or that's what you told yourself when you were dying to put your fingers inside her.

You sit beside her on the bed, your hand sliding to her lower back in that familiar, comforting way. She leans into you instantly, her head resting on your shoulder.

"Enough," you murmur softly against her hair. "Rest, Sophie." Your fingers begin to rub soothing circles where her dress straps dig into her skin.

She inhales sharply.

"You didn't even listen to me", she says but her tone isn't full of anger, it's just tired.

"I know," you whisper, your hand moving from her back to gently tilt her chin up. Your eyes meet hers in the dim light, and you see the exhaustion and stress etched into every line of her face. Without another word, you lean down and press a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I know it's hard, but we have to resist working here. I'm saving some money so we can leave and never work here again" you add watching her closely.

"It's not that easy. They won't let us go, especially me. Maybe you will, you have a family somewhere, a place to go. I have nothing”

Her words hang heavy in the cramped room, the truth of them heartbreaking. You hate that she sees herself as having nothing, hate that the Penwood family has stripped her of her worth so thoroughly. You gently cup her cheek, your thumb stroking over her high cheekbone.

"You have me," you say firmly, leaving no room for argument. "And that is not nothing, Sophie.”

Her bottom lip trembles, and this time she doesn't fight the tears that spill over. She leans into your touch, her forehead dropping against yours. You can smell the lavender soap from her careful work, can see the small burns on her knuckles from handling irons too hot.

"You shouldn't have to take care of me," she whispers, her voice breaking.

"Shh," you soothe, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her into your lap. She comes willingly, curling up against your chest like a lost kitten. Your fingers thread through her silky black hair, gently massaging her scalp as she cries silently into your neck.

"I should have done it. I should have taken care of you." she whispered

Her admission hangs between you, her tears soaking through the thin fabric of your blouse. You hold her tighter, feeling the weight of her exhaustion, the burden of her self-loathing. 

"This isn't your fault," you whisper against her temple, kissing her there softly. "You're the strongest person I know, Sophie."

"I'm not strong," she sniffles, lifting her head to look at you with red-rimmed eyes. "Strong people don't let themselves be treated like this. Strong people leave." Her voice rises slightly, filled with frustration and self-loathing.

"Strong people survive," you correct her gently, wiping a stray tear from her cheek with your thumb. "And every single day, you survive that woman's cruelty. You get up, you work harder than anyone else, and you still find kindness in your heart." You press another kiss to her forehead, feeling her slowly melt against you. "You are the strongest person I know.”

She buries her face in your neck again, her breathing ragged as she tries to process your words. Her small hands fidget with the buttons of your blouse, her touch surprisingly gentle despite her internal turmoil. After a moment of silence, she speaks again, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Make it stop," she begs, the words muffled against your skin. "Please... just make the noise in my head stop. I'm so tired." She presses closer, her body trembling with exhaustion, her

fingers tightening in the fabric of your shirt as if you are the only anchor keeping her from drowning. "I need you.”

The desperation in her voice breaks your heart, but it also ignites that familiar, protective heat in your chest. You shift her slightly in your lap, cradling her head against your shoulder while your hand slips down from her hair to trail soothingly down her spine.

"I've got you," you whisper against her ear. "Let me take care of you now, Soph.”

She lets out a slow breath, her muscles gently uncoiling. She trusted these hands, these words. She knew you were the only one in this house who wouldn't hurt her. She always ended up in your room, seeking comfort from you when she was exhausted from the mistreatment.

Your fingers find the small hooks of her dress, gently untying them one by one. The fabric loosen around her chest, her breasts slightly spilling out of the corset. You know this routine, you've done it countless times.

One part of you can't wait to touch her, the other feels guilty because it might want it out of pure selfishness.

You push the thought aside, focusing on Sophie. She needs this, needs you. The corset falls away, revealing her porcelain skin, the pale light of the room casting gentle shadows across her delicate form. You cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her pink peaks, feeling them harden under your touch.

"Mm," she whimpers softly, her back arching into your hands. Her eyes flutter closed, those terrible words from Lady Penwood finally fading from the forefront of her mind. Her fingers grip your shoulders, nails digging in slightly.

"Is this okay?" you ask quietly, even though you both know the answer.

"Yes," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please... don't stop." Her head falls forward, resting against your chest as she focuses on the gentle pleasure of your touch. You continue to caress her breasts, feeling her nipples pebble further under your thumbs.

You lean down, capturing one of her peaked nipples in your mouth. She gasps, her hands immediately threading through your hair to keep you there. You suck gently, alternating between each breast, feeling her squirm in your lap. Your free hand slides down her stomach, hooking under the fabric of her skirt.

Her thighs fall open without hesitation, welcoming your touch. You slide your palm up her inner thigh, feeling her skin grow warmer beneath your fingers. The thin cotton of her underwear is already damp, and she lets out a soft, embarrassed whimper against your scalp.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, but her hips push forward slightly, meeting your hand.

"Don't apologize,"

Sophie decided to completely let down her hair, letting it fall over her bare breasts in direct contact with her hardened nipples.

Your breath hitches at the sight of her hair cascading over her bare breasts, the strands gently teasing her sensitive peaks. You continue to tease her nipple with your mouth, one hand still buried between her thighs while the other comes up to cup one of her breasts possessively. "You're so beautiful,”

Sophie's face flushes at your words, a small smile playing on her lips despite the tears that still stain her cheeks. Her fingers tighten in your hair as she rocks her hips against your hand, seeking more friction. You oblige, sliding your fingers underneath her underwear to touch her bare skin directly.

"Ah!" she gasps, her head falling back as your fingers find her wet folds. She's dripping, arousal coating your fingertips immediately. You circle her clit slowly, gently, knowing she needs gentle pleasure right now, not rough fucking.

"Why don't you lay down?", she obeys immediately.

You guide her back against the pillows, brushing her dark hair away from her face so she can look up at you. She spreads her legs instinctively, making room for you to settle between them. The vulnerability in her eyes mixes with desire, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she watches you hover over her.

The bed is small, to fit two people you have to lie on top of her.. and every time Sophie grips the sheets, it creaks, reminding you to slow down whatever you are doing.

You lower yourself over her, your body pressing gently against hers. Her breath catches as your breasts press together, a soft moan escaping her lips. You lean down, capturing her mouth in a slow kiss while your hand continues its lazy path down her stomach.

The bed creaks faintly under the new weight. You both freeze for a moment, listening for any sign they've heard.

"Shh," you whisper against her mouth, "it's okay." You start kissing her again, deeper this time, swallowing her small sounds as your fingers finally reach her core. She spreads her legs wider instantly, the bed creaking again but neither of you care anymore.

You slip two fingers inside her, feeling her tight heat wrap around them immediately. She's so wet, so ready. You start a slow rhythm, curling your fingers upward to find that perfect spot. "This is yours," you murmur. "All of this, right here."

"It's not just mine, no, take off your clothes too, I want to see you " 

You freeze momentarily, you didn't think she would want to do that. Impatient as she is, Sophie unbuttons your uniform and takes your breasts in her hands, squeezing them a little.

"What do you want to do?", you ask.

"I want to touch you too," she whispers, her small hands roaming over your bare chest. "I want to see all of you, like you see all of me." Her thumbs circle your nipples, making them harden under her touch. The bed creaks again, but the sound is drowned out by your soft gasp.

You quickly shed the rest of your clothing, tossing your uniform aside. Sophie's eyes widen as she takes in your full naked form hovering above her. She reaches up, trailing her fingers down your stomach to your hips, pulling you closer. The bed groans under the movement.

"Now we're both naked," she says with a small smile. "That's fair.”

You smile, leaning down to kiss her again. Your naked bodies press together, skin against skin. You can feel her heart racing against your chest as you continue to kiss her deeply while your fingers work inside her. You add a third finger, stretching her gently.

Sophie spreads her legs wider instinctively, taking your fingers deeper. She runs her hands all over your back and buttocks possessively. You grind your hips slightly against her for friction, the bed creaking loudly this time. Both of you pause, listening intently. No sounds from outside the room.

You continue moving above her, your fingers finding a steady rhythm inside her while your mouth latches onto her neck. Sophie's moans are getting louder, more desperate. She wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you flush against her. "Please," she whispers against your ear, "I need more.”

You lift your head to look at her, seeing the desperation and need written all over her face. She's so close to the edge, her body trembling with unspent desire. Without hesitation, you remove your fingers from inside her and grab your throbbing clit, pressing it against her wet entrance.

"Like this?" you ask, your voice husky with need. Sophie nods frantically, her thighs squeezing around your hips. You grind against her slowly, feeling her wetness coating your clit. The friction makes you both gasp into each other's mouths. 

"Touch yourself," she whispers.

You do as she asks, reaching between your bodies to rub your clit in slow circles while you grind against her. The feeling of her wetness against your sensitive nub is almost too much to handle. "You're so wet," you moan

"So are you," she pants back, lifting her hips to meet your grind. The bed is making all sorts of noises now but neither of you can stop. Your clits slide against each other perfectly, creating the most delicious friction.

Sophie reaches down, wrapping her fingers around yours on your clit. She guides your pace faster, harder. "Together," she whispers desperately. The movement changes, your bodies finding a perfect rhythm - your clit trapped between your fingers pressing against hers, grinding in tight circles. The bed is shaking beneath you both now.

"God," you both groan in unison as the pressure builds. Your clits are throbbing together, slickness dripping down onto the bed. Sophie's other hand reaches up to pull your face down for a sloppy, desperate kiss as you both feel your orgasms approaching.

The friction becomes overwhelming, your swollen clits sliding together furiously. Sophie breaks the kiss with a broken cry, her back bowing off the mattress as the pleasure crashes over her. You follow her instantly, your entire body seizing up as your orgasm tears through you, both of you soaking the sheets beneath you. The bed creaks violently, ignored completely in the haze of ecstasy.

You collapse on top of her, chests heaving together as you both struggle to catch your breath. Sophie's legs are still wrapped tight around your waist, her body trembling uncontrollably beneath yours. The room smells of sex and sweat, the bedding a ruined, wet mess beneath you. 

She strokes your sweat-dampened hair, pressing a soft, exhausted kiss to your temple.

"Feeling better now?" you ask

Sophie chuckles weakly, her breath still coming in pants. "Much," she admits, her voice hoarse. "Thank you." She holds you close, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. "And thank you for... this. For not running away when I was a mess."

The bed groans one last time as you shift your weight slightly. "Never,”

You stay like that for a long time, tangled together in the damp sheets. Sophie's breathing evens out as she drifts off to sleep in your arms. You just lie there, holding her close and running your fingers through her hair, feeling content in a way you haven't in a long time.

You want to ask her what you were to each other, but you didn't even know yourself. Can two women be lovers? You had not seen it before or heard of it, but the way Sophie looks at you is clear proof that yes, it exists and that it is not wrong. It is as it should be.

[user01031978]

Crybaby

pairing: peter parker x you (fem)

tags: sub peter parker, established relationship, shy peter parker, crying during sex, masturbation, m receiving, handjobs, dom!you, porn with no plot, overstimulated and sensitive peter parker, apologising, you know he's spiderman

words: 1.2k

Peter is lying on his stomach on the bed, his face buried in the pillow as you jerk him off from behind. His shy whimpers and soft moans are muffled against the fabric. His slender body wiggles slightly with each stroke of your hand, his sensitivity overwhelming him.

"Shh, shh," you soothe, seeing how overwhelmed he is. His legs are pressed together tightly, his hips twitching as you work his cock slowly. He's already leaking pre-cum onto your hand, his body so responsive to your touch. Suddenly, he lets out a choked sob.

"Too much, too much," he cries out, his face still buried in the pillow. His hands grip the sheets tightly as he tries to process the overwhelming sensation of your hand jerking him off. You immediately slow down your movements, knowing how sensitive he is, but it only makes him cry harder.

You can see his blue eyes getting lighter every time you speed up the movement of your hand. His muscles tense as one hand tries to stop you. He might succeed, in fact, he would win with his strength. Instead, no, it seems that all his power has been nullified by you, leaving him helpless and weak at your mercy.

"Baby, talk to me," you say softly, slowing your strokes to a gentle teasing instead of actual jerking off. "Are you actually crying right now?" You ask gently, trying not to laugh because honestly, it's kind of cute how overwhelmed he is by your hand job.

It always amazes you how weak he becomes with you. It's exciting to have the invincible Spider-Man completely under your control.

"Mmmph!" He cries into the pillow, his voice muffled but his body shaking with sobs. He nods vigorously, tears streaming down his face as he tries to speak through his crying. "Too sensitive... too good... it's too much!"

“Do you want me to stop?“, you ask as you suddenly stop. Peter breathes quickly, sobbing. He turns to you, and the sight is heavenly. His cheeks are flushed as if he'd rubbed them on the pillow for hours (yes, that probably happened due to spasms caused by too much pleasure), both streaked with tears. His hair is messy, and his skin, which is usually pale, now has different undertones. You observe how his breathing starts to become more regular as time passes and how he swallows his saliva through his Adam's apple.

"No," he whispers hoarsely, his eyes staring at you with pleading intensity. "Please, don't stop. It feels... It feels amazing. I just..." He trails off, his voice breaking slightly as he tries to find the right words. "I'm not used to this.”

He gets closer to you in bed and you start stroking him again, slower this time, letting him adjust. His cock twitches in your hand, already half-hard again from just how sensitive he is. He whimpers, pressing his forehead to your neck. 

"Peter, look at me," you command gently. He obeys, turning his tear-streaked face toward you.

His blue eyes are glassy, still swimming with tears that haven't stopped falling yet. They're so big and innocent-looking, even now, even when he's sobbing because you're jerking him off too well. He looks at you like you're his whole world, like he's completely devoted to you.

"You're so handsome," you praise softly, cupping his face. A hand caresses his pectorals to go lower and unbutton his shirt. Peter lets you do it and watches you, and as soon as he realizes you'd take longer, he rips the buttons off with his hands, sending them flying across the room. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to–” 

You kiss him to silence him and pull off his shirt. His skin is sweaty, making his pecs, abs, and collarbones almost gleam.

You resume stroking his cock, your pace deliberately slow and torturous. He immediately starts crying again, his tears falling onto your shoulder as he hides his face against your neck.

"You're shaking," you murmur against his hair, feeling his whole body tremble in your hand. Your thumb swipes over his leaking tip, and he lets out a high-pitched whimper.

"S-sorry," he hiccups, his voice watery and weak. "I can't help it. It's just... too intense." His hips start to move in small circles, fucking himself against your palm as he chases more friction. His tears soak your shoulder, and his hands clutch at your clothes desperately.

"Don't apologize," you whisper, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Let it all out, baby." You increase the speed slightly, just a little bit more pressure, just one finger starting to rub at his perineum. That's all it takes.

He absolutely shatters.

"D-don't—please, I'm gonna—I'm gonna—”

Before he can even finish the sentence, his entire body convulses. He comes violently, his hot release coating your hand and his own stomach. His cries turn into loud, sobbing wails as wave after wave of pleasure overwhelms him. He's completely lost in the sensation, his body shaking uncontrollably.

You keep stroking through it, milking every last drop from him until he's a sobbing, trembling mess in your arms. He clings to you desperately, his face buried in your neck, crying openly now—happy tears mixed with overwhelming pleasure. His cock is still twitching, insanely sensitive.

"I'm sorry," he keeps whispering between hiccups.

The words "I'm sorry" repeat like a mantra against your skin. You're holding him tight, one hand still gently wrapped around his oversensitive cock, keeping just enough pressure to make him whimper. The other hand is stroking his hair, trying to calm him down.

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Peter. You did so good for me.”

"I couldn't even—" he sobs, his voice cracking pathetically. "You have to stop touching me, it hurts now." But despite his words, his hips tilt up slightly, chasing your warmth. His cock twitches pathetically in your grip, still hard.

"Mean," he whimpers, but there's no real protest in his voice.

You ignore his complaint, your hand slowly sliding up and down his length again. He lets out a high-pitched moan, his body arching into the touch despite his sensitivity. "Too much," he cries out, his voice breaking completely. "Too sensitive. Please, baby, please—"

“If you're too sensitive, why don't you fuck me instead, mmh?“

Your suggestion makes him pause mid-wail. His hips still, and he lifts his head from your shoulder to look at you with wide, tear-filled eyes. You can see him processing through the haze of overwhelming pleasure, his brain slowly catching up to your words.

Suddenly, he regains all his strength and pushes you onto the bed. He's sweet and tender as he does so and kisses you in the same manner. 

He places one hand on your breast covered by your lace bra, and the other on your already wet pussy. His touch is delicate and almost too romantic. His movements are slow compared to yours.

You too lower your hand until you touch his cock again. He stiffens instantly, already overstimulated.

Of course he's hard again. "No-Ah wait!", he moans in your ear, making you smile. 

Maybe it won't be different like before.

[gabbyyxoxoo]

[bisexualcunt]

Multiple mutuals may need to hear this: its fine to talk about wanting to fuck that old man. I get it. I understand. Much love.