mutual pining simply never misses. the yearning. the stupidity. the desperation while also thinking themselves alone with it. the rattling relief at the revelation. the way it works in so many scenarios— friends to lovers? a banger every time. casual hook-ups/friends with benefits while they both want more? show-stopping, spectacular, incredible. enemies who are so deep in denial it just makes them madder at each other? utterly unmatched every single time. slow burn, fast burn, burning while already fucking. mutual pining really just is that girl like truly who does it like her
I’ve started going to the gym, and every time I want to give up these characters flash through my brain like a dead wife montage, so I have to tough it out for them
Shaved Ice
Word Count: 716
Character: Guzma
Summary: You and Guzma get some shaved ice, and Guzma finds himself drawn to your lips, which are dyed from the flavor color.
Alola’s late afternoon sun spilled gold over the bustling streets, painting the world in lazy, melting warmth. You and Guzma strolled side by side, your flip-flops slapping the pavement, the two of you sharing a silence broken only by the hum of traffic and the soft scrape of plastic spoons against paper cups. Your shaved ice was dyed a vivid, almost silly red—strawberry, maybe cherry, you didn’t care, only that it was sweet and sharp and perfect against the heat. Guzma, of course, had chosen grape.
You chattered about nothing—some dumb meme you’d seen, your neighbor’s Meowth always yowling at three a.m.—and Guzma just grunted and nodded along, scooping lazy bites from his grape ice. He seemed more focused on you than usual, his dark eyes darting to your mouth, lingering a little too long, like he was hypnotized by the sticky red of your lips.
Eventually you caught him staring, lowering your spoon. “What’s wrong? You got a brain freeze or something?” you quirked a brow.
He jerked his gaze away, cheeks darkening beneath his tan, scowling at the ground like he could will it to swallow him. “Nothin’. Just…eat your damn ice,” he muttered, shoving another spoonful into his mouth with a little too much force.
You shrugged, used to Guzma’s moods, and kept talking. When you went to take another spoonful, Guzma’s eyes flicked back—watching, transfixed as you slipped the ice between your lips, your tongue flashing red as you licked the spoon clean.
He swallowed hard, audibly, and you had to fight not to laugh. “You’re being weird, today. More than usual,” you said, fixing him with a look. “What’s up with you?”
He scowled, trying to play it cool, but his ears were red as a tamato berry. “Nothin’, okay? Just—your shaved ice looks good, that’s all.”
You snorted. “Guzma,, I always get this flavor. You’re acting like you’ve never seen me eat before.”
He shot you a glare, but it was more embarrassed than fierce. “Yeah, well, maybe I just noticed it this time. Your ice looks good. Deal with it.”
You watched him for a moment, taking in the way he refused to meet your eye, the way his grip tightened on his cup. A mischievous idea sparked, and you fished out your Rotom phone, flipping the camera so you could check your reflection. Your lips were stained a bold, inviting red, your tongue a matching shade. Understanding dawned, and you grinned, glancing sidelong at him.
“So, do you want a bite?” you asked, voice playful, holding out your spoon with a mound of shaved ice.
Guzma blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”
“C’mon, you said it looked good. Here.” You held the spoon out, watching his eyes flick from the ice to your lips, then up to your face, suspicious. “What, you scared, bug boy?”
He grumbled, eyeing you, then leaned forward and opened his mouth for the bite just as you slipped the spoon into your own mouth instead, savoring the flavor with exaggerated relish. Before he could protest, you leaned in and kissed him, catching him off guard, your lips pressed to his, cold and sticky-sweet. For a second he froze, then his hands found your waist and he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss with a growl.
He tasted the syrupy sweetness on your tongue, and you felt him shiver, his lips parting to chase the flavor, his tongue bold and greedy, pulling every last drop from your mouth. When he finally pulled away, he was breathing hard, and his lips were stained a faint red that matched yours. For a moment, he just stared at you, dazed, then that familiar, cocky smirk crept onto his face—eyes dark, hungry, and wicked.
“Guess I’m takin’ you home now,” he said, voice rough, the implication unmistakable. “You keep lookin’ at me with those lips, I ain’t responsible for what happens next.”
You laughed, bumping his hip with yours, the two of you falling into step together, your hands brushing as you finished your ice. The sun was lower now, painting the world in molten gold, and you knew the night would end with tangled sheets and more cherry-red kisses—Guzma’s laugh, your flushed cheeks, and the warm, wild certainty that together, you were exactly where you belonged.
why is it always a male character going mad avenging his dead wife and never a female character cradling her dying pure of heart husband in her arms then dragging the whole world down with her
Type: Multi-Pair
Characters: Urbain, Cheren, Drayton, Melli, Guzma
Premise: Based on a prompt from mewnbuns, "walking in on your usual private, polite roommate masturbating with a pair of your panties in his mouth after you told him you’d be out all night…"
CW: sex, sex with men, nsfw, smut, Cheren and Drayton are of consenting age, masturbation
I maybe could have done more, but I wanted to get these out.
Urbain
The hotel corridors were a quiet maze of patterned carpet and dim sconces, the sort of hush that settles after midnight when the city outside is still humming but your own limbs are loose with the echo of laughter and the subtle heat of a few drinks. You had meant to leave earlier, but you were enticed by the promise of a drunk Lida by Griselle. So you stayed out a little longer, danced longer, drank a little more than you intended to.
You padded barefoot down the hallway, the cool air prickling at your skin, keycard in hand, ready to slip into your room and call it a night. But as you passed Urbain’s door you noticed it was only slightly ajar. A sliver of lamplight crept out, pooling over the carpet. You paused, brow knitting. Urbain wasn’t shy, but he was rarely careless. Even more curious: there were sounds inside. Soft, irregular, the kind that made your heart skip a beat—wet, needy, and urgent. With the buzz of alcohol making you braver, you pushed the door open a little farther.
Urbain was sprawled across his bed, legs spread, sweatpants pushed down to his knees, one hand wrapped around his cock, the other clenching a fistful of sheets. But what really caught your eyes, what made your breath catch and your cheeks burn, was the lacy pair of panties clenched between his teeth. Familiar. Yours. The pale fabric was stretched taut, his lips parted around the cotton, his royal blue eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. He didn’t notice you at first, lost in the rhythm of his hand and the muffled moans spilling out around the panties. His hips rocked up, a bead of sweat tracing down his temple, his usually tousled platinum hair sticking up wild and soft.
You gasped. A tiny sound, but enough. Urbain’s eyes snapped open, and for a moment, the world hung suspended. His hand froze, his mouth dropped the panties, and the room filled with the sharp, bright silence of two people caught in something raw and private.
You spun around, heart pounding, face blazing. “Oh, I’m sorry—!” you stammered, pressing your palm over your mouth. You stared at the wall, willing yourself to evaporate, but the image of Urbain, flushed, panting, your panties clenched between his teeth, was scorched behind your eyelids. You couldn’t help yourself; curiosity, bold and reckless, made you glance back over your shoulder. Urbain was sitting up, cock still hard, sweatpants tangled at his knees, your panties now dangling from his fingers. His cheeks were pink, but his eyes were dark with want, fixed on you.
You swallowed, finding your tongue. “Um…are mine, Urbain?”
He nodded, sheepish but not ashamed, voice rough. “Yeah. They’re yours.” He gave a crooked, apologetic grin, the kind that made your heart flutter even as you tried to steady your breathing.
“Why—uh…why do you have them?” you asked, voice trembling, a challenge and a dare all at once.
Urbain hesitated, running his free hand through his hair, making it even messier. For a moment, his bravado flickered—he looked younger, more vulnerable. “I…I really like you,” he said, voice low, almost shy. “Been into you since the day we met when you first came to Lumiose. I just—wanted something of yours. Feels close to you, y’know?”
The words tumbled out, earnest, and for a second you just stared at him, the buzz of the alcohol warm and bright under your skin. You’d always found him attractive. He was cute, and you liked his energy (even if it got him into trouble at times). You liked his easy laugh, the way he could turn a disaster into an adventure, the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching. You’d never been brave enough to say it. Until right now.
“I—like you too, Urbain,” you admitted, shy but certain. The words made him light up, his grin blooming wide, relief and delight shining in his eyes.
You closed the door behind you, the click loud in the quiet room, and took a step toward him. Urbain watched you, breathless, as you peeled off your shirt, then your jeans, tossing them onto the heap of his. You slid your bra down your arms, letting it fall to the floor, leaving yourself in nothing but skin and nerves and want. His eyes drank you in, blue and hungry, one hand still wrapped around himself, the other holding your panties tight.
You crawled onto the bed, straddling his lap, feeling the heat of him pressed against your thigh. Urbain’s hands shook as they found your hips, his lips parting in awe.
“Damn, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed, tracing his fingers up your sides, thumbs brushing your nipples until you moaned. He leaned in, kissing you with surprising tenderness, his lips soft and searching, tasting of want and something sweeter—hope, maybe.
You ground down against him, feeling the hard length of his cock slide between your folds, slick with your own arousal. Urbain gasped, resting his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, voice ragged, and you rocked your hips, teasing him, making him shudder. He gripped your ass, guiding you as you sank down onto him, filling you slow and deep. You both gasped, the stretch perfect, your bodies fitting together like you’d been made for this. Urbain’s hands roamed everywhere—your back, your breasts, your thighs—never settling, always moving, always greedy for more.
You rode him slow at first, savoring the way he moaned, the way his eyes rolled back, the way he whispered your name like a prayer. Then faster, harder, chasing the heat that built between you, the slap of skin on skin filling the room.
“Ngh—harder, please—” Urbain begged, his grip bruising, his hips snapping up to meet yours. You gave him what he wanted, grinding down, nails raking his chest, until you both were crying out, lost in the wild, desperate pleasure of it.
Your orgasm crashed over you, sharp and bright, making you sob his name as you clenched around him. Urbain followed instantly, hips jerking, cock pulsing deep inside you as he groaned—“Oh, shit, I’m—I’m coming—!”—his whole body shuddering, holding you tight as he spilled into you.
After, you collapsed onto his chest, both of you panting, slick with sweat and trembling with aftershocks. Urbain wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, pressing lazy kisses to your hair. He grinned, a little shy, a little cocky. “So, uh…does this mean we’re, uh, official?” His thumb traced lazy circles on your hip, gaze hopeful and boyish.
You smiled, heart hammering, and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’d say we are.”
He gave a whoop of delight, rolling you onto your back, kissing you breathless again, the night alive with laughter and the promise of something wild and real.
Cheren
The night air clung to your skin as you stumbled quietly through the duplex door, a giddy warmth humming in your veins from the drinks with friends. The living room was dark but for the sliver of moonlight pooling across the carpet, and you tiptoed past the kitchen, shoes in hand, a lazy smile on your lips. Cheren’s door, always closed and neat as the rest of him, hung slightly ajar—something rare enough to give you pause. Maybe he’d stayed up grading papers, or perhaps he’d fallen asleep with a book again, glasses askew, breathing softly.
You rapped your knuckles gently on the wood, but no answer came. The light was on, a soft yellow spilling out. You nudged the door open, expecting to find Cheren buried in lesson plans or dozing off at his desk.
Instead, you froze.
There was Cheren: stripped to his undershirt, thighs spread on his bed, one hand wrapped desperately around his cock, the other pressed a pair of panties—your panties—to his flushed, trembling lips. His face was free of his glasses, his black hair, usually so tidy, stuck out in wild tufts. And his eyes—those sharp, analytical eyes—were wide with shock, pinned on you like a startled Purrloin.
He jerked, scrambling to cover himself, face burning crimson to the tips of his ears. The panties tumbled from his mouth, landing beside him like a silken accusation. “Wh-what—?!” he stammered, voice breaking, scrambling for the bedsheet. “You said—you said you’d be out—!”
You just stared for a moment, letting the image burn itself into your mind: Cheren’s slender body tensed in panic, chest heaving, cock flushed and hard against his belly, your panties wrinkled with the imprint of his teeth. The alcohol made the moment feel slow, dreamlike, your embarrassment melting into a strange, electric thrill. You’d always known Cheren was handsome, with his sharp jaw, broad shoulders, the way his glasses framed those intense eyes. But right now, flushed and unguarded, he was beautiful.
You stepped inside, shutting the door behind you with a click. “Are those my panties?” you asked, voice softer than you expected, half-teasing.
Cheren’s mouth opened and closed, his brain scrambling for a solution, but the honesty that made him such a good teacher was written all over his face. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” His voice was raw, desperate. “I just—” He looked away, humiliated, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Please, can you just—forget you saw this? Please.”
You knelt onto the bed, sitting by his hip, your fingers ghosting over the rumpled sheet. The scent on the air was unmistakable: musk and something faintly sweet, the perfume you wore, clinging to the cotton. You watched him, seeing vulnerability and hunger warring in his eyes.
You smiled, slow and sly, emboldened by the warmth in your veins. “Cheren,” you whispered, drawing your shirt over your head, “you don’t have to settle for just my panties.” You let your bra fall away, baring your skin to the lamplight, then stood to shimmy out of your jeans and underwear, leaving them in a careless heap. “If you want the real thing, you could have just asked.”
His eyes widened, mouth falling open, words failing him utterly for once in his life. You crawled up beside him, taking his trembling hand and guiding it to your breast. His touch was hesitant, reverent, as if you might vanish if he pressed too hard.
You leaned in, brushing your lips against his cheek, then his jaw, tasting the heat of his skin. He shivered, a soft gasp escaping him as you trailed your fingers down his chest, slipping beneath his shirt, feeling his heart hammer wildly. You tugged his hand between your legs, watching his pupils dilate as he felt the slick heat there. “Do you want me, Cheren?” you whispered, daring him to say no, knowing he couldn’t.
He nodded, breathless, voice thick. “Yes. Yes, I want you—please.”
You kissed him, slow and deep, letting his tongue trace your lips, moaning softly as his hands roamed your bare skin. You pressed your body against his, straddling his lap, feeling his cock twitch against your thigh. You broke the kiss, grinning down at him. “Let’s make this fair, hmm?”
You slid down his body, tugging the sheet away, freeing his cock, flushed and leaking. You took him in your hand, letting your thumb swirl over the tip. Cheren moaned, biting his lip, hips bucking up. You settled between his legs, knees pressed into the mattress, and bent forward, licking a slow stripe up his shaft before taking him into your mouth.
Cheren gasped, his hands flying to your hair, fingers trembling. You hummed, swirling your tongue around the head, feeling him struggle not to thrust. “Ah—please—mmn—” he whimpered, voice breaking with need.
You glanced up, catching his gaze, and grinned. “Your turn.”
You swung your hips over his face, your wetness glistening in the lamplight. Cheren stared, stunned, before leaning up and pressing his mouth to your cunt, tongue parting your folds, licking you with slow, careful strokes at first, then faster as he grew bolder. The sensation was dizzying, his tongue clever and eager, fingers digging into your thighs.
You moaned, grinding down onto his mouth, tasting his cock, heavy and hot in your mouth, and slick with your spit. The room filled with the wet, desperate sounds of your bodies. “Mmn—fuck—Cheren—” you moaned, hips rolling, his tongue lapping at your clit, sending shivers up your spine.
He groaned into you, voice muffled, and you felt the vibration all the way through your body. You bobbed your head, taking him deeper, feeling him throb against your tongue. His breathing was ragged, your name falling from his lips between licks and moans. You could feel him tense, muscles tight, his cock pulsing in your mouth. You sucked harder, swirling your tongue, feeling his body go rigid.
“Ah—ahh—!” Cheren cried, hips jerking, spilling hot and thick into your mouth, salty and sharp. You swallowed, licking him clean, never breaking the rhythm of your hips on his face.
His tongue redoubled its efforts, fingers spreading you open, tongue flicking rapidly over your clit. Your orgasm slammed into you, sharp and blinding, your thighs tightening around his head, crying out as you came, “Oh my god—Cheren—!” Your hips jerked, grinding against his tongue, your body trembling, sweat slicking your skin. You collapsed beside him, breathless, both of you sticky and flushed, panting in the heavy silence.
But Cheren wasn’t finished.
He caught your wrist, face flushed, eyes dark, and his voice low and rough. “I want more,” he whispered, rolling over you, pinning your wrists above your head. His cock, which was still hard, pressed against your thigh, need written plain across his face. He leaned down, kissing you hungry and deep, tasting yourselves on each other’s lips, his body pressed tight to yours.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Cheren growled, voice trembling with desire, and you shivered beneath him—ready for whatever he wanted next.
Drayton
The night was alive with the thrum of music still pounding in your veins, the rough laughter of your friends echoing in your memory as you stumbled up the steps to the duplex. You kicked off your heels at the door, heart racing with the careless confidence only a few drinks and a slinky skirt could give you. Your hair was clipped up, but rebellious strands tickled the back of your neck, and you could still feel the sticky neon heat of the club on your skin—cheap perfume, sweat, the electric promise of something wild.
Inside, the place was quiet except for a low, rhythmic sound coming from down the hall. You paused, catching your breath, the click of your heels muffled against the tile as you followed the faint, irregular noise. Drayton’s door, usually shut, always with some lazy “Do Not Disturb” scrawled on a sticky note, hung just wide enough for golden lamplight to spill into the hall.
You were already reaching for the handle, calling his name. Maybe to tell him you’d made it home, maybe just out of habit, when the scene inside snapped into focus. Drayton sprawled on his unmade bed, silver hair sticking up in messy spikes, yellow eyes half-lidded and glazed with pleasure. His tracksuit jacket was pushed back off his shoulders, the white tee beneath rumpled and bunched around his ribs. His black-and-gold tracksuit pants were shoved down to his thighs, and his hand was wrapped around his cock, hips rocking up into his fist.
But what stopped you was what was between his teeth. A pair of your panties, unmistakable, the lace stretched and damp against his mouth. He moaned, low and guttural, the sound curling through the air and straight into your gut.
You froze, mouth open, pulse hammering. Drayton saw you before you could move, a slow, lazy grin spreading across his flushed face even as his eyes went wide. For a second, neither of you moved, the moment stretching thin and electric.
Then you spun around, face burning, one hand slapping over your mouth. “Oh my god—! Sorry, I—I didn’t know—!” Your words tripped over your tongue, mortification and something hotter prickling under your skin.
Behind you, there was a rustle of sheets, the soft slap of skin, a muffled chuckle. “Guess you’re home earlier than I thought, huh?”
You peeked over your shoulder, unable to help yourself, drawn back by the sight of Drayton’s hand now holding your panties, fingers tangled in the lace. His gaze was heavy, predatory, but there was no hint of embarrassment. Just hunger, and the easy confidence he wore like a second skin.
“Were those—” Your throat was dry. “Are those mine?”
He smirked, rolling the panties around his fingers. His voice was rough, lazy as ever but thick with need. “Yeah. Wanted a little piece of you tonight. Hope you don’t mind, princess.”
You swallowed, heat blooming low in your belly. “Why?”
He shrugged, still stroking himself, eyes flicking up and down your body. “Didn’t think you’d be home for a while. You usually aren’t. Besides…” He grinned wider, the purple streak in his hair glowing in the lamplight. “You looked too good tonight to wait.”
You turned away again, pressing your palm to the cool wall. “You know, I’m older than you,” you said, voice trembling with a mix of nerves and something dangerously close to anticipation. “And we don’t even get along half the time.”
You heard the bed creak, the soft pad of bare feet on carpet. Before you could move, Drayton’s arms slid around your waist, strong and warm, pulling you flush against him. You gasped, feeling the hot press of his cock through the thin fabric of your skirt, his breath ghosting over your neck.
“Older?” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “That’s news to me. You don’t look old, babe. And I kinda like it when you give me shit. Makes this…” He pressed harder into you, grinding his hips, making you gasp again, “…way more interesting.”
You tried to twist away, but his grip just tightened, one hand cupping your breast through your blouse, thumb flicking over your nipple until it peaked hard against the fabric. His mouth found the curve of your neck, nipping and sucking, leaving heat in his wake.
“I’ve wanted you since the day you moved in,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “You’re not that old—and besides, older women know what they want. I like that.”
You shuddered, hands splayed against the door for balance as he rocked into you, the hard length of him rubbing between your ass cheeks, up under your skirt. He slid his hand down, fingers slipping beneath the hem, tracing the line of your thong. When he found bare skin, he groaned deep in his chest, one finger teasing along your slick folds.
“Fuck, you’re wet already,” he hissed, thrusting his fingers between your legs, circling your clit, dipping inside. The pleasure was sharp, overwhelming, making you arch back against him, your breath ragged.
“Drayton—” you gasped, but he just laughed, biting your shoulder, grinding harder, his free hand kneading your breast through the thin silk of your blouse.
You could feel him rutting against you, cock thick and hot, precum smearing against the bare skin of your ass. Your hands went flat to the door, steadying yourself as his fingers worked you open, curling deep inside until you were trembling.
He nudged the front of your thong to the side and pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, just barely sliding in, teasing you with the promise of more. Your mind snapped back, a jolt of clarity cutting through the haze. You spun, shoving at his chest, but before you could speak he caught your face in his hands and kissed you—deep, rough, tongue pushing into your mouth, swallowing your protest.
He pulled you off of the door and backed you toward the bed, never breaking the kiss. His hands were everywhere—tugging at your blouse, sliding your skirt up around your waist, peeling your thong down your legs. You fell back onto the tangled sheets, the clip falling out of your hair causing it to splay behind you. Drayton’s body covered yours, his mouth hot and insistent on your skin. He kissed down your jaw, your throat, biting lightly at your collarbone, leaving a trail of heat.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he growled, voice rough as gravel, as he slid your bra off, baring your skin to the warm air. His mouth closed over your nipple, sucking and flicking with his tongue. “Been dreaming about this for months. I’m gonna make you forget every fight we ever had.”
He shucked the rest of his clothes, crawling between your thighs. He slid in slowly, filling you inch by inch, his cock stretching you open, making you moan, your fingers digging into his back. He moved with a lazy, deliberate rhythm, grinding deep, every thrust hitting just right, his mouth at your neck, your collarbone, his breath hot against your ear. “You feel so good, babe. So fucking tight for me. You like this, huh? Like being fucked by the guy you always pretend to hate?”
You opened your mouth to fire back but his dirty words sent sparks up your spine, and all you could do was whimper, arching your back. He fucked you hard and deep, hands gripping your hips, his pace unhurried but relentless, wringing moans and curses from your lips.
“Say you want it,” he growled, biting your ear, fingers twisting in your hair. “Say you want me.”
“I…I want you,” you gasped, breathless, lost in the heat and the slide of his body. “D-don’t stop—!”
“Not gonna,” he promised, slamming into you, grinding his pelvis against your clit until you were sobbing with pleasure.
And then you shattered, pleasure crashing through you, your whole body locking up around him. He groaned, fucking you through it, then pressed in hard, cock twitching as he came, hot and thick, buried deep inside you. “Fuck—yes—oh fuck—” he gasped, hips jerking, holding you tight.
He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. You lay together, tangled and breathless, your heartbeat slowly returning to normal.
He nuzzled your shoulder, lips lazy against your skin. “Next time you go out, I’m coming with you,” he murmured, voice smug.
You groaned, rolling your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
He grinned, teeth grazing your ear. “Because you’re mine now. My girlfriend. And I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
You arched an eyebrow, amused, warmth blooming in your chest. “Oh? Is that so?”
He grinned, cocky and sure. “Yeah. Get used to it.” He kissed you again, slow and claiming, his arms locking around you, making it clear. He had no intention of letting you go.
Melli
(For @vanillianbean and her wonderful writings of Melli)
The Coronet Highlands were quiet except for the distant, perpetual rumble of Lord Electrode somewhere in its den, and the wind that howled over jagged stone. You were making your way along a narrow path, boots scraping over gravel, mind still simmering with irritation from your latest run-in with Melli. That insufferable, smug, beautiful bastard, always flouncing around with his chin up, making every task a chore. And his long lavender hair gleaming in the sun as if he was showing off just to spite you.
You crested a boulder and caught a flicker of blue and red in a patch of battered grass below. There was Melli, sprawled against a sun-warmed rock in his familiar Diamond Clan tunic, hood up and hair spilling over his shoulder like a waterfall, his narrow eyes half-lidded and lips parted. At first you thought he was sleeping, but then you saw the frantic movement of his hand under the folds of his clothes—the way his hips jerked up, the telltale flush blooming across those delicate cheekbones.
And there, unmistakable, was a scrap of pale fabric clamped between his teeth. A pair of underwear. Your underwear, to be exact. Your jaw dropped, outrage mixing with a rush of heat that pooled in your belly.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” you barked, stomping down the slope, boots crunching on gravel. “Really, Melli? Out here in the wilds, and you’re jacking off with my panties in your mouth? What, did you run out of mirrors to admire yourself in?”
Melli startled, eyes flying open, but didn’t flinch away. He just glared, cheeks burning, hand still wrapped tight around his cock, glistening and flushed in the cool mountain light. He spat your panties into his hand, jaw working furiously. “You—! I thought you’d be off failing at some other menial errand. Not snooping around like some wild Glameow.”
You snorted, marching closer, folding your arms. “Snooping? Please. I could hear your pathetic little moans from halfway up the cliff. Is that how you get your kicks, Melli? Stealing my underwear after you can’t win an argument?”
He sneered, but the effect was ruined by the way his breath hitched, his cock twitching in his fist. “You’re insufferable,” he spat back, “and far too proud for someone so… easily conquered.”
You grinned, teeth flashing. “Easily conquered, huh? You must be dreaming. How’d you even get those, huh?” You jabbed a finger at the panties bunched in his hand. “Or did you just sneak them out after the last time you begged me to fuck you?”
He didn’t answer, but the way his gaze flicked away, cheeks flaming, told you everything you needed. You leaned in, voice low, savoring his discomfort. “You know I’m never letting you live this down, right? Melli, the oh-so-superior warden, reduced to jacking off with a lowly galaxy grunt’s panties because he can’t go ten minutes without thinking of her.”
One hand shot out, grabbing your wrist, yanking you down so you tumbled onto his lap. His lips crashed into yours, rough and desperate, your teeth clicking together as he dragged you close. The kiss was all heat and fury, his mouth hot and demanding, tongue hungrily searching for yours. He tasted like salt and arrogance and something sweetly desperate.
You melted into him, fists bunching in his tunic, feeling his cock hot and slick against your thigh, his breath ragged as he devoured you. He pulled back just long enough to glare down at you, eyes narrowed, voice trembling with want. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? Always running that mouth, always needing to be put in your place.”
You grinned, biting his lower lip, drawing a gasp from him. “Maybe I just like watching you fall apart, Melli. You’re almost pretty when you’re desperate.”
He growled, rolling you beneath him, the grass cool against your back, his hands already tugging your shirt up and over your head. You arched, baring your chest to the sky, shivering as the breeze ghosted over your skin. He shoved your skirt up, fingers fumbling with the clasp, cursing under his breath as he yanked your underwear down your legs and tossed them aside.
His own pants were already halfway down, cock standing proud and flushed, glistening with precum. He pressed the head against your folds, rubbing up and down, teasing, making you squirm.
“Don’t act like you don’t want it,” he muttered, nipping at your neck, his hair falling around your face in a lavender curtain. “You’re soaked for me, as always.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding up against him, nails scraping down his back. “Shut up and fuck me, Melli. Or are you too busy admiring yourself to get the job done?”
He answered with a sharp thrust, sheathing himself inside you with a groan—“ohh, Sinnohs”—his hands braced on either side of your head. You gasped, arching up, feeling him stretch you open, filling you with a familiar, delicious ache.
He set a punishing rhythm, hips snapping into yours, every thrust sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging him down for another kiss, open-mouthed and messy, both of you gasping and cursing between desperate, biting kisses.
“You’re—you’re infuriating, you know that?” you panted, clawing at his tunic, biting his jaw. “Why do you always have to be so—so—”
“Beautiful? Gorgeous?” he shot back, grinning, sweat beading on his brow, his cock pounding into you with relentless precision. “Admit it, you’re obsessed with me.”
You laughed, breathless, letting him slam you back into the earth, your bodies moving in perfect, furious sync. The pleasure built fast, his name slipping from your lips in a tangled litany—“Melli, Melli, fuck—don’t stop—”
He bent to your ear, voice thick. “Let go, my little galaxy grunt. Show me who really wins.”
You shattered, body locking up, pleasure crashing over you in a white-hot wave. You sobbed his name, nails digging into his shoulders as you pulsed around him, dragging him over the edge with you. He moaned, hips jerking, spilling inside you with a shuddering gasp.
After, you lay tangled together, your cheek pressed to his chest, his arms possessive around your waist. You grinned up at him, smug. “So, when do I get to tell Adaman about this? Or maybe I’ll just let Mai know her favorite warden gets off to me on the regular.”
He scowled, pinching your side. “You breathe a word of this to anyone and I’ll let Adaman know exactly what happened to his bedding the night he was out patrolling. Maybe I’ll even give him the details about how messy you got on his furs.”
You barked a laugh, rolling your hips in lazy defiance, the afterglow still humming inside you. “Oh, please. You’d never survive the fallout—you’d be out on laundry duty for a month. Just think of all that mud you’ll have to deal with.”
Melli sniffed, the corners of his mouth twitching, but his grip around your waist only tightened. “Well, I’m not the one who screamed so much they probably heard us in Jubilife.”
“Melli, if you’re going to brag, at least get the facts right. You were the one begging by the end, remember?”
He huffed, but the threat faded into a rueful chuckle, his fingers brushing hair from your face. “You are a menace.”
“Yeah, I am,” you sighed smugly, settling into the crook of his arm. “And you love me for it.” You grinned up at him, satisfied, letting yourself relax into the warmth of his arms, the Highlands spinning overhead, knowing that for all your bickering, neither of you was in any hurry to let go.
Guzma
(for @bigguscheesius)
The sticky, electric buzz of anticipation clung to your skin as you stepped into your heels, the hem of your little black dress swishing around your thighs. You checked your reflection: hair teased high, gold hoops glittering, lips glossed, and not a bra in sight to ruin the line of your dress. “Hell yeah. Alola clubs, here I come,” you murmured, grabbing your clutch and tossing a wink at your own reflection. Tonight was girls’ night—no drama, no dumb boys, no Guzma mouthing off in the kitchen about your “shitty taste in music” or how you “waste money on shoes.”
You’d just locked the front door behind you, already picturing the first round of cocktails, when you realized your phone wasn’t in your bag. “Fuck,” you groaned, digging through your purse, then huffing and stomping back inside. The house was quiet, shadows pooling in corners, and you made a beeline for the couch where your phone always seemed to vanish. You snatched your phone from the cushion, thumbing through the notifications, ready to bolt again—when you heard it. Muffled grunting, a rhythmic thumping, and a low, guttural moan that sent a shiver up your spine.
You straightened, one brow arching, curiosity pricking at you. Was that Guzma? He’d been weirdly quiet all night, not even a single insult when you’d walked by in your heels. Creeping down the hall, you heard the bed creak. The door to his room was cracked open just enough to let a wedge of lamplight spill onto the rug.
The light inside was dim, but you could see the broad silhouette of him on his bed, knees bent, chest heaving. He was muttering, no, moaning, the sound barely restrained, desperate. Another low, throaty groan—“Uhh, fuck… yeah, just like that…”—and then, unmistakably, your name, dragged from him with a need you’d never heard in his voice.
You froze, lips parting and pulse stuttering, as a wave of anger flooded you. You kicked the door open hard enough for it to slam against the wall. “Guzma, you are the most shameless—”
The words died in your throat as your brain caught up with what you were seeing.
Guzma stared at you from his bed, eyes wide, pupils blown, as his body sprawled out on his unmade bed. His pants and underwear were on the floor, his hoodie bunched under his armpits. His cock was thick and flushed, gleaming in his fist, and clamped between his teeth were a pair of familiar-looking lacey panties. They dropped from his mouth, fluttering to the sheets
You stared at Guzma. He stared at you back.
Then you both exploded.
You shrieked, face burning, spinning around and slamming the door so hard it rattled the frame. “What the fuck, Guzma?! You nasty, perverted asshole!” you hollered, voice cracking, mortification warring with disbelief.
From inside, his voice was muffled and furious. “The hell?! You said you’d be gone all night! Who the fuck just barges in like that?!”
You whipped back around, flinging the door open again, fury boiling over. “I forgot my phone, dipshit! And maybe if you weren’t in here jacking off—” Your gaze landed on the panties which were now in his hand, realization crashing down. “Wait a minute—are those mine?!”
He shifted, looking anywhere but you, face red beneath his tan, the muscles in his jaw working. “Yeah, they’re yours. Happy now?” He grabbed the panties off the bed, balled them in his fist, scowling.
You stepped into the room, crossing your arms, ignoring the way his gaze kept darting to the way your dress rode up your thighs. “Were you seriously using my underwear to get off, Guzma? Like, that’s a new low, even for you.”
He growled, chest heaving, but his bravado was thinner now, his eyes flicking away. “Yo, get the fuck off my back! You weren’t even supposed to be home right now!”
“That’s your excuse?” You stalked into the room, hands on hips, staring him down. “Is this seriously what you do when I’m not here?”
He turned away, rubbing a hand over his face, eyes darting anywhere but at you. “Damn, you’re nosy. This is bullshit…” He shifted, trying to cover himself better, but the tent in the blanket was obvious, and so was the flush spreading down his neck.
A thought struck you, sharp as lightning. “When did you even take those?” you demanded, voice sharp.
Guzma grunted, refusing to meet your eyes. “None of your business.”
You stepped closer, folding your arms. “Considering they’re mine, it absolutely is my business. When did you steal them, Guzma?”
He looked away, face burning deep red now, suddenly all awkward edges and hunched shoulders, mumbling something you couldn’t catch.
“Speak up, bug boy!”
He looked up, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, all that cocky bravado melted into something shy and achingly vulnerable. “From the fuckin’ laundry, aight? Saw ‘em sittin’ there, and… whatever.”
You almost laughed—almost. “You went through my laundry? Are you twelve?”
“Yeah, well, you weren’t supposed to even know, so…”
You stared at him, unsure if you should be disgusted or flattered—or both. But as your gaze slid from his scowl to the rise and fall of his chest, the broad stretch of his thighs, and the outline of his cock straining under the blanket, heat pooled low in your belly. You’d always given Guzma shit, always fought and bantered, but the sight of him—so big, so raw, so obviously wanting you—sent a thrill through your veins, reckless and hot.
Your mind tumbled, arousal prickling through humiliation. Without a word, you pulled out your phone, thumbs flying as you fired off a text: “Bailing on tonight, sorry girls. Emergency at home.” You tossed your phone onto an old pile of Guzma’s clothes on the floor. You let your purse drop, too, then sauntered over to the bed, heels clacking on the hardwood.
Guzma eyed you like you were about to throw a punch. “The hell you up to now?” he grumbled, but you caught the way his gaze lingered on your cleavage, the dress’s low scoop revealing the curve of your bare breasts.
You bent to unbuckle your heels, sliding them off one by one, trailing your fingers over your calf with a slow, deliberate tease. “Didn’t know you liked me that way, Guzma,” you purred, voice syrupy with mischief. His gaze locked on your legs, drifting up, hungry and bewildered. You continued, “We fight all the time. If you wanted a piece of me, you could’ve just asked instead of raiding my panties.”
He opened his mouth to fire back, but his eyes were glued to your cleavage as you leaned over, fiddling with the clasp of your necklace. “Y-yeah, well, you ain’t exactly easy to talk to, y’know!” he blurted, voice rough. “Always mouthing off, always bossin’ me around—kinda makes a guy crazy.”
“Oh yeah? You like the mouth on me, huh?” You smirked as you removed your earrings, placing them on his nightstand. One slipped from your fingers, clattering to the floor. You bent to pick it up, making sure to arch your back and show off your ass, the hem of your dress hiking up scandalously. When you straightened, you found Guzma watching you with a hungry, almost desperate look, his cock straining against the fabric of the blanket.
His jaw flexed, the blanket slipping as he sat up, cock bobbing free, thick and flushed. His bravado faltered, replaced by naked want. “Yeah. I fuckin’ do,” he admitted, voice almost a growl.
You moved to the bed, knees hitting the mattress, and just as you opened your mouth to tease again, Guzma surged forward, grabbing your hips and yanking you down. His mouth crashed into yours, all heat and hunger, tongue tasting, teeth scraping your bottom lip. You melted into the kiss, letting him taste you, his tongue hot and greedy, his hands shaking as he pulled you down beside him. He rolled on top, caging you in with his arms, cock pressing against your thigh, thick and pulsing.
He broke away, panting, lips swollen. “Fuck, I’ve liked you for ages,” he growled, voice low and rough, his usual bluster stripped away. “Was just too much of a shithead to say it.” His mouth trailed down your jaw, biting at your neck, sucking bruises into your skin until you gasped, arching up against him, letting him shove your dress higher, and when he finally tugged it over your head, he let out a broken, hungry sound.
“Fuck, no bra? You tryin’ to kill me, girl?”
“Bras are optional with these types of dresses,” you laughed. But you didn’t laugh for long as he latched onto your nipple, sucking hard, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. You arched again, moaning, nails dragging down his back, as his hands squeezed your hips, thumbs digging into your skin. Your fingers tangled into his wild hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. He pulled his shirt off with one hand, tossing it aside, and slid down your body, kissing and biting his way lower.
He hooked his fingers under the sides of your thong, dragging it slowly down your legs, eyes glued to your bare skin. “Gonna eat you out so good, you’ll forget all about your little club friends,” he promised, voice thick with lust.
You gasped as he buried his face between your thighs, his tongue was hot and wet against your clit. Your legs shook, hips bucking, as his hands held you down as he devoured you, licking and sucking, groaning as you writhed beneath him. Every little sound from you stroked his ego, and he lapped it up, tongue fucking you deep, fingers spreading your lips, his own hips grinding into the mattress.
Just as you were about to break, teetering on the edge, he pulled away, grinning as you whimpered, desperate. He crawled up, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “You want it, yeah?” he breathed, lining himself up.
“Don’t you dare leave me hanging, Guzma,” you warned, voice shaking.
He laughed, then thrust into you in one rough, perfect stroke. You cried out, clinging to his shoulders as he pounded into you, hips slamming, cock stretching you open, every inch of him thick and hot and relentless. He lost himself, groaning your name, biting your neck, fingers digging into your hips as he fucked you hard, desperate. “Fuck, can’t believe this is real—been wanting you so fuckin’ bad, you got no idea—” he groaned, breath ragged. You wrapped your legs around his hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, nails raking down his back. “You like this, huh?” he grunted, fucking you deep. “Like gettin’ fucked by the guy you’re always yellin’ at?”
“Shut up and move,” you gasped, biting his ear.
He laughed, wild and happy, and pounded into you harder, the headboard rattling. You clung to him, lost in the heat, the sweat, the raw sound of skin slapping skin, your bodies tangled and desperate. “Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “So fuckin’ good—so tight—shit, I’m gonna—!”
He came first, hips jerking, cock pulsing inside you with a shuddering groan—“Aaah, fuck, fuck, fuck!”—but he didn’t stop. He kept moving, determined to wring every ounce of pleasure from your body, fingers finding your clit, mouth pressed to your ear. “C’mon, babe, wanna feel you cum on my cock… lemme have it…”
You shattered, pleasure crashing over you, body locking up as you cried out, nails raking his back, hips jerking against his. He held you tight, fucking you through it, kissing you deep as you both rode out the aftershocks together.
When you finally collapsed, boneless and spent, Guzma pulled out and flopped down beside you, sweat beading his brow. You scooted closer, curling into his side, surprising him into stillness. But after a moment, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close, tucking you against his chest.
You lay together in the hush, the world outside fading away. You smiled, cheek pressed to his skin, and murmured, “So, where you takin’ me on our first date, big guy?”
Guzma blinked, startled, then grinned—a real, rare smile, shy and dopey. “Shit… You serious?”
You nodded, tracing lazy circles on his chest. “Dead serious. You owe me, after all.”
He laughed, rough and breathless, squeezing you tighter. “Anywhere you want, babe. All of Alola’s gonna know you’re mine.” He pressed a kiss to your head. “Long as you promise to wear nothin’ but that dress—and maybe leave your panties at home.”
You laughed, swatting his chest, but didn’t pull away, letting yourself melt into the warmth of his embrace, the two of you tangled together, finally, exactly where you both belonged.
DRAW SUBMAS AND MY LIFE IS... YOURS ETERNALLY FOREVER!!!!!!
At first I was like,,, “ough I only like drawing sillies I’m emotionally attached to!! Like horizons and plza characters!!” BUT 👆 I love ur enthusiasm‼️😋💥
HEHEHEHAW YOUR LIFE IS MINE FOREVERRRR😎💥😎💥😎💥💥💥‼️‼️
Wordcount: 1.4k
Pairing: Melli x Fem Reader
Content: Explicit sexual content, explicit language, a little bit of degradation, established relationship, modern au if you squint
Summary: A morning sex fic waking up with the Great Warden Melli
This is @dennydoodles's fault, I take no responsibility for this one. I blacked out when I wrote this.
In the months you had been living with Melli, one thing was readily apparent: The man was a nightmare to share a bed with. Honestly, you were a hair away from getting a separate bed, but he pouted so hard the one time you brought it up that the conversation was temporarily dropped.
He had a bad habit of being a bed and blanket hog, symptoms of his lanky body and selfish personality. When he wasn’t sprawled out, he was clingy. More clingy than he’d ever dare to be while awake. He could be as grumpy as ever before bed, but as soon as he was in the throes of sleep, he’d gravitate towards you and wrap his lanky arms around you; Hold you tight like you were just a damn teddy bear, typically waking you up in the process.
Waking up because of him was a common occurrence. You weren’t sure how early it was when you felt his arm wrap around you from behind, and a familiar pressure was shuffling against you. It still looked dark behind the curtains when your eyes cracked open against your will. Your mind caught up slowly, immediately annoyed by the touch pulling you out of your blissful sleep.
You were caught between annoyance and interest when you realized what he was actually doing; rutting against your ass, slowly grinding his morning wood to seek relief with your soft body, still in his own blissful sleep as he did.
As annoyed as you were at being woken up, a familiar throb was already starting up between your thighs at the movement. Your thoughts drifted to him tugging down your sleep shorts and sliding into you instead, fucking you with the same slow rhythm he was using to pleasure just himself.
You huffed and moved to turn over, and he whined, still humping against your thigh until you were face to face, and you threw your leg over his waist. There was a slight tangle with the sheets and a bit of grumbling from the both of you, but then he was grinding against your covered entrance instead. The friction made you gasp and press your hips harder against his, eyes fluttering shut as you enjoyed the feeling.
It only took a moment before his touch changed. There was a questioning grunt, a pause, and then his hand was gripping your hip with a new, purposeful strength.
Your eyes opened again just to meet his. Half-lidden and sleepy, with an openness you rarely saw after 7am. Your hand came up to move a piece of his messy, long hair out of his face as you teased, “Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”
“What a surprise,” he whispered, voice low and rough from the morning haze. His touch moved to your thigh, holding on tightly as he rolled his hips in a lazy, but constant, motion. He was incredibly hard, and the thin pajamas you were both wearing did little to dull the feeling of his hard length dragging over your clit. His tip even caught at your entrance, unable to slip in due to the barriers, but it made you both gasp. “Couldn’t wait until I woke up?”
“You woke me up first,” you murmured, still grumpy but meeting every roll of his hips, trying to find the best angle. You could feel your loose sleep shorts growing damp and you reached down to pull them to the side, wanting more direct contact.
He didn’t answer and wiggled his hand between your bodies, shoving his pants down just enough to free his erection. He took himself in hand, leaning away from you just enough to look down between your bodies and slap the tip of his cock against your clit. Your whole body jolted and he slid himself through your wetness, shallowly fucking your tight entrance.
As soon as you felt him slip inside, you hiked your leg up further on his waist, pressing forward to take him deeper. It was tight, and the angle wasn’t perfect, but then he moved his hand to your ass to press you against him as close as possible and he was in. You groaned in unison.
“This what you wanted?” he teased quietly as he just barely started rocking, staying as deep as possible at that angle. You looked up at his face, and he was already smirking. It was too early for that. He pressed his nose against yours, not kissing yet. Just teasing. “My little slut needed my cock to start the day properly?”
“I need coffee, but you’ll do for now.” you shot back, snickering when he rolled his eyes. He went slow, and the bed was a tangle of sheets filled with quiet moans and groans as you stayed locked together.
“Harder,” you panted, wanting more. In response, he wrapped his arm behind your back securely, then rolled until he was lying down with you settled on top of him. You yelped at the sudden shift, bracing your hands on his chest to steady yourself. The gravity pushed you fully onto him, taking him to the hilt now, and you looked down at him with a baffled expression on your already-flushed face.
“Since you want to be grumpy and don’t like how I’m fucking you, you can do it,” he explained, tucking a hand behind his head luxuriously. His other hand patted your hip before squeezing, like he was trying to encourage you to get moving.
“You’re the one that woke me up,” you grumbled, yet started moving anyway. You started slow, body sluggish as you found a rhythm, but then you shifted. Riding him harder, feeling the delicious drag of him inside of you. He always felt bigger in the mornings, impossibly hard and deep, and you had to admit that it felt wonderful. Just not aloud.
And he watched you intently, his smug expression fading into something softer and hotter as he panted and moaned below you. Neither of you had bothered to get undressed, so his hand moved to hold your loose shorts to the side, both to help and to watch himself disappear inside of you over and over.
Your body fell forward as your arms got tired, lying down on his chest for comfort as your hips moved behind you, smacking up and down against his roughly now. You heard him stutter out a curse, arms wrapping around you tightly as his hips bucked up into yours. You cried out, breaking the peace of the relatively quiet morning. He held you snugly to his chest, tucking his face into your shoulder and neck as he fucked up into you with an unexpected burst of energy, making you bounce on his lap with every thrust.
He was hitting a perfect spot, his pelvis rocking against your clit with every movement. There was a desperation in his touch that he’d never acknowledge, but you could feel it in the way his hands moved all over your back, and in the way he was groaning low and breathing heavily against your neck.
The pleasure built too fast, and you sank your teeth into his neck to muffle your cry as you came, squeezing around him as he fucked you through it. He kept going as you went limp on his chest, moving his hips desperately and losing rhythm as he chased his own release. It didn’t take much longer until he was urging you to lift your hips, and you did, pulling off of him with a wet sound just in time for him to tense up.
He forcefully moved your hips to make you grind down on his length as he came, shooting hot ropes between your stomachs. You watched his face as he threw his head back, letting out a ragged, pathetic little noise as he came down from his high.
Satisfied, and no longer feeling so grumpy as your body enjoyed the rush of dopamine, you smiled a little as you watched him pant and catch his breath. He was obviously thoroughly spent, and you were too, but he had really been putting some work in at the end.
Finally, he blinked a few times and sluggishly looked down at you on his chest, murmuring, “Good morning.”
You huffed out a quiet laugh and scooted up to give him a kiss. Your nose wrinkling at the feeling of his mess slick between you, but the kiss was soft and pleasant as you slowly made out. The room was full of the quiet, wet noises as your lips slowly moved together, and the sound of birds starting to wake up as the first bits of light started peeking through the curtains.
“Wanna take a shower with me?” you whispered against his lips, barely pulling back enough to talk.
“Mmhm,” he agreed, yet he wrapped his arms around you again, not letting you move an inch as he kissed you again.
Word Count: 1,335
Characters: Adaman and Melli
Premise: You remembered Melli's words when he got you to squirt for the first time. And when he tries to tell Adaman, your intended, you get your revenge.
Content Warning: smut, nsfw, threesome, m/f/m, oral, squirting, vaginal sex, MDNI
This ones been sitting in my docs for a few days, and I really like it (and I know @vanillianbean, @houndenny, and @bigguscheesius do, too)
Adaman’s quarters were steeped in late lamplight, shadows flickering over the woven mats and the low-rise bed where you found yourself pressed between two men whose rivalry was more brotherly than bitter. You were sprawled across his futon, head tipped back off the edge, lips stretched wide around Melli’s cock. He lounged above you, his pale, striking features twisted into a self-satisfied smirk as he tangled his long fingers in your hair, feeding you his length with a slow, taunting roll of his hips.
Adaman knelt between your thighs, his grip firm on your hips as he drove into you, thick cock splitting you open with every thrust. His hair hung in wild dark-blue spikes, sweat shining at his temples. His eyes were all fire and promise, focused on you as though you were the only thing that mattered in the world. Occasionally, he dipped down, mouth latching onto your breast, tongue flicking at your nipple, sucking and biting gently, making you arch and moan around Melli’s cock. The vibrations pulled a ragged gasp out of Melli, who gripped your hair tighter, hips twitching in your mouth.
“Fuck, you sound good like that,” Adaman muttered, leaning back down to mouth at your breast. You moaned again, the vibration making the lavender-haired man curse and thrust deeper into your throat, his cock twitching against your tongue.
Melli shot Adaman a look, eyes narrow and sly as he tossed his head, lips curling in a smirk. “It’s almost a shame you didn’t discover her first, Adaman.” He gave your hair a tug, just enough to make your eyes water, a wicked glint in his eyes as he watched you struggle to keep up with them both.
Adaman grinned, not missing a beat, his hands sliding up to squeeze your waist. “Yeah? I think she’s even better when she’s got a real man to focus her energy,” he drawled, thrusting a little harder, making your back arch, your moan muffled by Melli’s cock. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
You would’ve rolled your eyes if you could, but Melli’s cock was filling your mouth, your throat working as you swallowed around him. He let out a sharp, indignant gasp, and you felt the tension in his thighs as you sucked harder, determined to wipe that smug look off his face.
But Melli, ever the peacock, preened with smug delight. “I always knew she had a talented mouth. Did I ever tell you?”
Adaman grinned, unbothered by Melli’s taunts, his own pace never faltering as he slammed into you, hips flush with your ass. “You tell me a lot of things, Melli. Half of them are complaints.” He punctuated the words with a deep, slow thrust that made your toes curl.
Melli wasn’t deterred, his voice syrupy and smooth as he continued, “I do hope you’re prepared for the mess she can make. She’s got quite the…talent. Isn’t that right, my little galaxy grunt?” His eyes glinted down at you, clearly hinting at your past, at the time he’d made you squirt—and never let you live it down since.
You flushed, cheeks hot with embarrassment and annoyance, and you took him deeper, swallowing hard, your hand massaging his balls with purpose in an effort to shut him up.
Adaman caught the exchange, and a knowing smile curled at his lips. “Oh? Is there a story I should know?” he asked, thrusts slowing as he pressed your legs up, changing the angle, grinding into you in slow, tantalizing strokes.
Melli’s voice was all wicked delight, his composure slipping as you worked him over. “Just that she’s prone to certain… dramatic displays, if properly motivated. I’d be impressed if you could get her to do it again, Adaman. It’s not easy to match my skill—”
His voice stuttered and his hand tightened in your hair as your tongue pressed up against the sensitive underside of his shaft. Your lips sealed around him as you sucked hard, taking him deep into your throat, and swallowing again and again. He tried to keep his composure, but the smug mask slipped, his hips jerking erratically as you dragged him closer to the edge.
“Trying to get your revenge, are you?” Melli panted, voice strained as he tried to sneer through the pleasure. “You think—mmh—if you make me come first you’ll win? You’ll have to do better than—oh—stars—” He broke off in a helpless moan as you swallowed again, throat squeezing, your lips stretched tight around him. Adaman chuckled, watching Melli’s composure crack.
You didn’t let up, working Melli’s cock with single-minded intent, punishing him with every swirl of your tongue. He tried to keep up the insults, but his voice was ragged, words slurring into gasps as you squeezed and sucked him, pushing him right to the edge. When he came, he broke, hips jerking and cock pulsing in your mouth, his fingers digging into your scalp as he spilled down your throat. You swallowed, milking him for every drop, savoring his shuddering and broken moans, his arrogance reduced to wild, helpless pleasure. He recovered himself just in time to witness Adaman’s focus sharpen, his hands bracing your thighs wide, legs bent high as he fucked into you with renewed purpose.
Adaman’s eyes locked on yours, his voice low and teasing. “Let’s see what all the fuss is about, then.” He shifted, rolling his hips in tight, shallow thrusts, the fat head of his cock dragging over your sweet spot again and again. Your mouth slipped off Melli’s cock, a needy, desperate moan escaping you as the pleasure built, heat blooming, pressure mounting until you were writhing, eyes watering, hands clawing at the sheets.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he growled, voice dark and possessive. “Let go for me. I wanna see what he did.” His thrusts grew faster, sharper, and relentless as he chased your release. The sensation was too much and your body seized, pleasure crashing through you, and suddenly you were squirting, a hot gush soaking Adaman’s cock and thighs, the sheets beneath you. You sobbed out his name, shuddering as he kept pounding into you, hips snapping, chasing his own orgasm. He came with a guttural groan, grinding deep, his cock pulsing as he filled you.
Melli, still flushed from his own release, watched you come undone, fascination and something hungry in his gaze. He couldn’t help himself as he leaned down, capturing your mouth in a hard, possessive, and greedy kiss, swallowing your cries and tasting himself on his tongue.
Adaman growled, thrusting up into you again, chasing every last aftershock, making you break the kiss with a sharp gasp. He pulled you up against his chest, wrapping an arm around your waist as he shot Melli a look. “Remember, Melli. She’s mine. Don’t forget who you answer to.” His voice was low, warning but not unkind, his possessiveness clear.
Melli sighed and clucked his tongue, eyes sparkling with mischief, annoyance, and longing. “You say that, but I still think you could do better, Adaman. She’s a mess—and not just on your cock.” He shot you a sly look, “And you—still making a spectacle of yourself. Though, I suppose it’s charming, in a sort of shameful way.”
“Oh, shut up,” you shot back. “Pretty sure the ‘great and wonderful Melli’ was just rendered a shameful blubbering mess just moments ago.”
Adaman just grinned, nuzzling your neck, hands stroking your waist. “But she’s my mess. And I’m not letting her go.” He held you tight, his claim clear, and you let yourself sag against him, spent and sated.
Melli rolled his eyes, shifting to lay down. There was something soft in his gaze as he looked at you, a grudging admiration beneath the usual snark. “Hmph. I suppose you’ll be happy together. But if you ever get bored, you know where to find me.”
The lamp flickered, shadows dancing, the three of you settling on the bed with you sandwiched between them. Every edge softened by pleasure and the odd, perfect harmony you’d found.
