Skip To Dessert
Skip to Dessert
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader
Summary: Having gotten into an argument with Miguel before dinner, you both find a way to let out your frustration.
Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY, afab reader, mentions of previous argument/ bickering, teasing, flirting with a stranger, flashing a stranger( he sees your underwear, waiter is kind of a perv/creep, exhibitionism(kind of), getting caught in the act, oral (f and m receiving) spanking, begging, dirt talk, rough sex ( let me know if I missed anything)
WC: 3.8K
A/N: Completely stopped writing for over a month. Oops. But I got the inspiration to write again so I decided to finish this Miguel fic that's been sitting half-finished for months. Enjoy!! Also, PSA, don't flash strangers or involve them in your sexual escapades unless you have their consent. Tried to write the waiter character like he was a creep who enjoyed it and this is fiction so no harm done, but please don't do that irl.
The tension in the car is palpable, but not the good kind of tension. Not the kind where lust and desire hang heavy in the air, where you can't bear to be apart even though you're right next to each other. Not the kind where you can't keep your hands off of each other and the temptation to pull over and submit to your desires right then and there feels impossible to resist.
On any other date night, this would be the norm, but tonight, a different tension is felt between you and Miguel. Residual feelings of frustration and annoyance brought on by the argument you two had back at the apartment. The disagreement was petty. Nothing that a little healthy communication couldn't resolve. But the incredibly stressful and tiring day you two had had both of your patience hanging on by a thread, and it was just a matter of time before one of you snapped. This time it just so happened to be you.
You were both looking forward to finally spending some quality time together, considering both yours and Miguel's schedules are so hectic. But any bit of excitement you had vanished as you walked into your shared bathroom and tripped over the pile of clothes he left in the middle of the floor. You came to find out about this little habit of his when you first moved in together. You had brought it up to him, expressing your annoyance, and asked him to try and be mindful about it. He made a genuine effort to stop, only reverting to his old ways when he was in a rush or had a million things on his mind. Today seemed to be one of those days.
You growled annoyedly, and the second he walks through the bedroom door, you get on him about it. Was it right to take your frustration out on him? No. But you couldn't help it. He clearly wasn't in the best mood either, as he marched after you when you stormed off and started arguing right back. You two spent the next ten minutes bickering and even continued to mumble angrily to yourselves and throw around passive-aggressive comments as you got ready to go to dinner.
It was a terrible way to start date night, but as you sat side by side in the car and the negative emotions started to dissipate, you both realized how silly it had all been, and you didn't want to let it ruin your night, not knowing the next time you'd be able to go out like this.
Although the irritation you were feeling earlier had subsided, you couldn't resist messing with him. Usually, when you get into petty disagreements, you both end up in bed, letting out your frustrations and subsequently making up by fucking each other silly. But you had reservations that had been made months in advance that you did not want to miss, leaving you with pent-up frustration, so you decide to find other means of letting it out.
You plan to do that by pushing his buttons in hopes that he'll drag you off somewhere to fuck the attitude right out of you. As you peruse the menu, you begin contemplating different ways you could rile him up until you realize the perfect opportunity to do so is standing at the table, filling your water glass.
Conveniently, the waiter has been flirting with you from the very first moment he walked up to the table, something both you and Miguel picked up on, and it's safe to say your boyfriend is not thrilled about it. Normally, you wouldn't be either, but in this case, it's working to your advantage.
As he fills your glass, he doesn't even look you in the eyes, opting instead to stare directly at your chest. Any other time, you’d tell him off for being a creep, but you see Miguel staring daggers at him, and that makes you want to egg him on further. You notice his reaction out of the corner of your eye, but the waiter doesn't seem to. Now that you think about it, he hasn't acknowledged Miguel once, his gaze only straying from you long enough for him to fill the other glass before he's looking back at you.
You proceed to ask him a question about the menu, all while pushing your tits up on the table and giving him a full view down your blouse. He doesn’t try to hide the fact that he's shamelessly ogling your cleavage and, again, neglects to make eye contact with you as he answers your question. You giggle at everything he says, and you can see Miguel roll his eyes as you do so. After chatting with you longer than your boyfriend, or you presume even management, would deem necessary, he quickly jots down your orders and walks away.
When he's out of earshot, Miguel asks, “What are you doing?”, looking unimpressed and letting you know he’s on to your little game. But you don’t care.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m being polite to our waiter. You should try it,” you answer, feigning ignorance.
He scoffs, “Polite? Yeah. Polite means saying please and thank you, not giving him a good look down your shirt and letting him fuck you with his eyes.”
“I can’t control what he does. It's not my fault he can’t resist sneaking a peek. You do the same thing,” you respond, raising one brow as you see his eyes fall to your chest, proving your point.
His eyes move back up quickly, and he says, "Well, I also fuck you till you can’t walk. You want to let him do that too?”
His question has your mind conjuring up the memory of just last weekend when he gave it to you so good that you spent the next day recovering in bed. You remember the delicious ache he left you with, and you press your thighs together at the thought.
“Maybe I should. If he’s capable of picking up after himself, I’d get down on my knees for him right now,” you sass. Knowing he won't let that slide, you wait for his reaction. He slams his hand on the table, not hard enough to draw the attention of the other patrons, but it got yours.
“I said I'm sorry, ok? I was rushing out of the house this morning and I wasn't thinking. Will you just let it go?” He asks, the frustration clear in his voice.
You playfully roll your eyes and try not to smile. You’re not upset anymore, and honestly, you weren't to begin with. You were just agitated because you had a particularly hard day at work. You just can’t help but push his buttons. You wouldn't taunt him like this if it wasn't something he does to you all the time. He's even admitted that he likes messing with you, riling you up just to see you wear that cute little annoyed pout on your face. So, you’re just giving him a taste of his own medicine.
“Fine. I shouldn’t be giving him a show. But how about you?” You ask in a sultry tone as you run your foot up his leg and lean forward, giving him the same view you gave the waiter just moments ago.
He licks his lips at the sight. “Fuck, you look so good in that dress. Too bad I'm going to have to rip it off you,” he says, reaching down to your foot that has made its way to the inside of his thigh, and he softly caresses your ankle.
“You tear it, you die,” you warn. This dress was expensive, and you’d like to wear it more than once. You've lost more clothes than you can count to his lack of patience.
He chuckles. “Ok. Pull it off of you,” he corrects himself.
“I don’t know if I can wait,” you whine and glance over at the bathroom, mentally calculating if you'd have enough time to sneak off without anyone noticing.
“No, not after last time,” he replies, shaking his head and smiling at the memory. You two had been just a little too loud, and as you walked out, you were met with a very concerned hostess who came to make sure everything was alright.
You pout but agree; you’d like to save yourself from that embarrassment again. You decide to give him a view of what he's missing out on and spread your legs and pull up your dress, prompting Miguel to glance under the table. He spots the bright red mesh panties he had recently bought you but has yet to see you wear.
“Naughty, naughty,” he says, shaking his head, but it takes everything in him to pull his eyes away as the waiter comes back, carrying your food.
“Here you go.” He sets your plates down, Miguel’s first and then yours, and he smiles down at you, this time hungrily eyeing your lips.
You can see the anger on Miguel's face, and the brattiness bubbles up inside you again. You move your hand and knock your fork under the table, feigning an “oops.”
“I’ve got it, miss.” Your waiter quickly offers and squats, moving to reach under the table. Legs still spread, he’s met with your clothed mound, and he stops in his tracks, lingering under the table.
Realizing what’s happening, Miguel uses his foot to push your knees together, blocking the waiter's view, and he retreats from under the table. The guy must not sense Miguel's anger, or he simply doesn’t care, because when you thank him for picking it up, he replies, “No problem, beautiful, I'll go get you another one.” He then places his hand on your arm while shooting you a wink.
Miguel, having had enough of this little display, stands up, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a wad of cash. He proceeds to shove it into the waiter's chest, and the guy almost topples over.
“Keep the change,” he grumbles and pulls you from your seat, guiding you out of the restaurant with his hand placed firmly on your lower back.
“Decided to push your luck, huh?” He says as he opens the door to the back seat and pushes you inside. “Big mistake.”
After shutting the door behind himself, he cages you in against the seat and begins grinding himself against you. Even through the layers of clothing, the friction feels divine, and your breath hitches.
“I can’t keep people from looking,” you try to reason, hoping you haven't genuinely upset Miguel. But judging by the way his hands run up and down your body, grabbing every slope and curve, it seems like you've garnered the reaction you'd been hoping for.
He kisses your neck and chest, moving down your body at a maddeningly slow pace, and continues to speak as he does so.
“I’m not jealous because I know he wants to get with you. I love when you show your body off and all the looks you get. I get to see people crave so desperately for something they can’t have, for something only I can have.”
You feel your skin warming up, not only under his touch but at his confession. You know deep down he's never genuinely jealous. You've made it abundantly clear that you are his and that he is yours, and nothing and no one would ever come between the two of you. But knowing a part of him gets off on seeing other people staring at you or hitting on you all while knowing they'd never have a chance turns you on even more.
He finally gets down between your legs and slowly starts lifting your dress. He begins kissing and nipping at the newly exposed flesh of your thighs.
“What I didn’t like was the way he disrespected you by acting like a little perv. He’s at work for god's sake, and he has the nerve to be staring down your shirt and touching you. He’s lucky I didn’t reach over and break his wrists,” he says through gritted teeth as the image of the stranger touching you flashes in his mind and rekindles his anger.
The sentiment that he was more upset at the fact that the man was being touchy with you, which did make you uncomfortable and was unprofessional to say the least, was what upset him rather than a territorial thing did warm your heart. But the warmth blooming in your chest quickly relocates to your core as he places kisses across your panty-clad center.
"I'm not thrilled he got a glimpse of these," he comments as he massages you through the fabric. You hum at his touch.
"Maybe he wanted a taste," you tease and angle your hips closer to his face.
"If he tried that, he would’ve come out from under the table without any teeth," he threatens, and you know he isn't kidding.
“And a heel in his eye,” you add, disgusted at the thought of that creep trying anything on you.
He chuckles and slips your underwear off, and you hear a soft hum as he's faced with the sight he's been longing for. He momentarily drags his fingers through your folds, saying, “I can’t say I blame him for wanting a peek, though,” and then he dives in.
His skilled tongue has you cumming on his face quicker than you'd thought possible. As you come down, he's lifting his head, and you see your arousal dripping down his chin. The sight has you grabbing for him, and you pull him up to you. You lick up his chin and then capture his lips in a kiss, moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue.
You take advantage, as he's left a bit dazed by the heated kiss, and push him into a seated position with his back against the door. You hurriedly place yourself between his thighs, mirroring his position between yours. You undo his belt and pull him out. Always impressed with his size, you eye his length hungrily.
“Think he’s as big as you?” you ask, already knowing the answer, and begin stroking him slowly.
He lets out a dry laugh, then says, “Not a chance.”
The cocky tone with which he says it and the smirk on his face would make you cringe if it were anybody else, but you know he can back it up.
“He'd leave you disappointed, I know it. You can tell just by the way the little weasel carries himself,” he says, and there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s right.
Not able to resist any longer, you take him in your mouth. You grab him at the base and start moving your hand in tandem with your mouth, stroking up and down his dick while dragging your tongue on the underside of his length.
His head falls back and rests against the window as he gets lost in the feeling, bucking his hips every time you come up and swirl your tongue around his tip. His breathing starts getting ragged, and he gently pulls you off him. He holds you by your hair and brings your mouth to his; the kiss isn't too rough but is still filled with need.
You pull away and quickly shuffle onto all fours, facing the opposite window. He sits back, allowing you to position yourself comfortably, and appreciates the view as your ass sticks in the air. As you sink down onto your elbows, you teasingly wiggle your hips, and he smiles and grabs at the jiggling flesh before giving your ass a quick slap.
He positions himself behind you and begins rubbing his tip through your folds, repeatedly catching on your entrance, but doesn’t enter you like you desperately want him to. You whine, so he begins pushing his thick cock into you, but doesn’t get any further than his tip before he’s pulling out and rubbing his length through your folds once more.
He does this repeatedly, and not being able to take his teasing any longer, you whine, “Give it to me. Or should I go get what’s-his-name to do it for you?“
You suck in a harsh breath as he fully sheaths himself in you in one quick motion, and you feel your walls stretch around him. “Is that what you want?” he asks.
“Mmhmm,” you reply, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as he begins moving slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. When you begin reaching for him to get him to move faster, he knows you’re ready. He grips your hips and gives you faster, deeper thrusts that pull moans from both of you each time he bottoms out.
You both begin feeling the stress of the day melt away, adding to the mix of pleasure. The fatigue from the long day, and the never-ending problems and drama at work, and even the tension from the argument fade away as the pleasure overtakes both of you.
Your quick, shallow breaths and the way your toes curl let him know you’re getting close, and he reaches underneath you to start toying with your clit. This pushes you over the edge, and Miguel groans as he feels you pulsing around him.
He continues swirling his fingers around your clit to help you ride out your high, and you already feel your next climax building. You feel him begin to slow down and fuck into you at a gentler pace. Needing those deep thrusts back, you find yourself begging him to go faster.
“No, don’t stop! More, please. Please!” You plead as you reach behind you to grab the back of his thigh, urging him on.
He chuckles at the desperate tone in your voice. He pushes you down by your shoulders until your body is flush against the seat and then hikes your right leg up. As he’s shifting you into position, he says, “That boy wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like you. Look at you; you’re insatiable.”
You let out a sigh at the new position, his dick reaching deeper and his tip dragging along that spot inside you that has you squirming. Heeding your request, his pace quickens. His breathing quickens as well, making his impending release evident, and he tries to hold off, wanting to give you one more.
“He looked like he was about to cum in his pants when he came up from under the table. No way he’d last long enough to give you what you need,” he continues.
“Think you can?” You tease as you look behind you and smirk, all while intentionally squeezing your walls. He lets out a low, throaty moan.
You continue clamping down on him intermittently, and his harsh grip on your hips and the deep furrow in his brow let you know he’s struggling to hold on. So naturally, you decide to tease him further.
“Oh, I don’t think you can. I guess I’ll just have to get waiter boy to come and finish me off. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to.” You feel him place a firm grip on the back of your neck, and he uses the leverage to pull you to him and meet each of his thrusts.
Your mouth falls open and your eyes close at the feeling, but they fly open as you feel a harsh slap against your ass. You moan as he grips your stinging flesh and squeezes it in his hand.
“In. his. fucking. dreams.” He punctuates each word with a deliciously hard thrust.
He begins rubbing your sensitive nub again, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You barely muster the strength to lift your head as you hear Miguel mutter, “Speak of the devil.”
Confused, you attempt to focus your eyes and you see a shadowy figure rounding the side of the car. Miguel grabs the back of your head and smooshes it against the glass. As the person comes into full view, you see the familiar face of your waiter as he stands in front of the window. The fog that has formed on the glass makes it impossible for him to see anything but your face, but he definitely sees you. You know you should try to hide, but in the moment, you don’t care. It all feels so good, and you’re too cock-drunk to think or act with any reason.
The waiter looks confused, and then you see his face redden as he realizes what’s going on. He stands there for a minute, listening to your muffled moans through the window.
“Tell him who gets to fuck you,” Miguel commands.
You barely hear what he says as you feel the pressure building in your core. You babble out some incoherent response, so he repeats himself.
“Tell him. Tell him who gets to fuck you.” He’s rubbing at your clit even faster now, and you squeal at the almost overwhelming sensation.
“You, Miguel! Only you get to fuck me like this!” You finally answer. You’re not sure if the waiter heard what you said, but the way his eyes widen makes you think he does. Having the creep hear what he wanted him to hear, Miguel leans over and bangs on the glass, effectively startling the guy. He jumps at the sound and when he quickly tears his eyes away from you and shuffles away hurriedly.
As he steps away, you finally let go, and you topple over the edge once again. You shake underneath Miguel as he holds you to him, reaching his release as well. He kisses down the back of our neck before pulling out and flipping you over, so you’re face to face.
“Think he got the message?” Miguel asks, his face flushed as he attempts to catch his breath.
You cradle his face and push his hair back, admiring the view of him hovering above you. You pull his lips yours and kiss him deeply before pulling away to place a few soft kisses on his face, and he does the same to you in return.
“Yeah, I think he heard you loud and clear,” you respond.
"No, I think he heard you loud and clear,” he counters and laughs when you playfully smack his chest. You cover your eyes with your hand and groan as the reality of what you just did sets in.
“Well, I guess we can never come back here,” you say dejectedly as you mentally add this restaurant to the list of places you can no longer go because of you and Miguel’s collective lack of control.
He chuckles, and you pull your hand away and look him in the eyes. “It’s not funny! If we’re not careful, we won’t be able to show our face anywhere in this town,” you say playfully.
“Eh, worth it,” he responds, kissing your forehead.
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🌙 MY MK SKETCH BOOK 🌙
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But what if Steven Grant was a cute little archaeologist accidentally reading scripture from an ancient text in the name of historical curiosity and awoke an ancient priest that was just trying to reconnect with a girlfriend? MummyAU anyone?
Soft subby reader jealous stroking bucky
CEO Bucky x Jealous Secretary reader - slutty thot - making dom Bucky a needy slut for you.
Imagine being the soft, quiet little secretary of the very handsome James Barnes. What started off as a professional relationship quickly turned into something else once the sun had set and everyone left the office. No one know about the way he love the toy with your body to his liking, about how well you responded to him once the doors were locked.
James Barnes who had to stuff his tie in your mouth to keep your moans quiet, shoving his fingers deep down your throat while he railed you with his cock. His warm tongue would lick up your tears while you milked him dry with your needy, tight cunt. No one would ever guess such a shy little quiet thing would be a cockdrunk bunny on the inside, practically humping yourself on his thigh once his meetings were over, drooling and nursing off his cock under his desk when he was on calls.
****
You took another long sip from your drink, watching a red head trace a long, sharp manicured nail up Bucky's chest, giving him a flirty smile which he smirked back to. She was a prospective investor, one of the few people on the VIP list in attendance for the yearly company gala. Bucky threw her a charming laugh, clinking his glass with hers to something she said, the red head now resting her hand higher, stoking the expensive fabric of his suit.
This was the James Barnes who would pick you up from your desk and throw you over his shoulder when things didn't go his way, fucking his frustrations out with his hand slapped over your mouth, jaw clenched with his heavy balls slapping your clit with each thrust. James Barnes who would fill you up with so much cum, it would drip and make a mess on your skirt, making it impossible to stand up once he plopped you back onto your chair. James Barnes who loves what a secret little slut his secretary is. Such a quiet, sweet kitten who was too innocent for her own good.
The very James Barnes everyone wants and he damn well knows it.
And loves it.
So here he was, biting his lip and cocking his brow suggestively while the woman stood tall with poise, leaning over to whisper in his ear, making your cheeks grow hotter with each passing minute. You weren't aware making business deals with new partners involved wanting to eye fuck them in the process.
You downed another glass of bitter liquid, no longer able to ignore the surges of jealously that pulsed through you. You had no business being jealous or possessive but you couldn't help it, seeing him pull the same charm he used with you, even if the context was different. You missed the way his eyes glanced over to you each time you looked away, his grinned on the inside with the soft flare of your nostrils and the clench of your jaw.
The last straw for you was when he whispered something in her ear, her eyes growing wide in response, a crimson flush covering her face.
"Sir" You strode over, rolling your shoulders back, ignoring the woman, only keeping your eyes on him, "There's a call for you in the office, its urgent"
It was clearly a lie, he knew it, as did you but you didn't care. Bucky smirked at you, cocking his head to the side curiously while you continued to stare at him, waiting for him to follow you. The woman coughed, hoping to break the tension between you both, unamused at the way Bucky's attention was completely on you.
"Aren't you the secretary, shouldn't you cover the calls-
You didn't bother letting her finish, slipping your hand into Bucky's and pulling him away towards the large elevators, the brunette letting you take him wherever you so well pleased, curious about what you'd do. You were just a soft little bunny.
"What is it kitten" Bucky smirked at the scowl that tugged your lips.
"I didn't know your business ventures required flirting with new partners" you kept your voice steady, fighting against the alcohol that was coursing through your body.
"Are you jealous" he smirked, letting you drag him away from the crowd, shoving him into the elevator.
"What's there to be jealous of" you shot back, the fire in your belly growing stronger the more he taunted you. Bucky's cock grew harder and the change of your demeanor, your possessiveness making his tip weep.
"No need to be angry bunny, look at you acting so needy" Bucky tsked while the elevator doors opened to the top floor. The grip you had on his hand tightened as you both went into his large office which overlooked New York. You clicked, while he leaned against the doors with a cocky smile, arms crossed against his chest. His cockiness took a hit when you glanced down at the way his length strained against the fabric of his pants, just as needy as you were, if not more.
"You were acting like a whore, sir" You shrugged while letting your finger trace over the outline of his erection, pressing where the tip leaked through his slacks.
"Don't tease m-
"Please" You caught him off guard, grabbing his tie and tightening it around his neck just enough to make his breaths heavier, "Now tell me what you want"
"Play with my cock" Bucky swallowed thickly, his control slipping when you unbuckled his pants, his cock springing free, begging to be touched. You took a step back, humming at the sight of him; not a single wrinkle on his pristine suit, not a hair out of place, his beard trimmed, lustful eyes boring back at you. He looked so pretty with his cock out, waiting for you to do something, his dominant side faltering in confusion.
"Why don't you ask her to play with it, sir" you cocked your head to the side like he did, waiting for him to answer, his cheeks flushing. "Hm?"
"Want you to play with it" His voice was a whisper pushing his hips forward, showing you exactly where he needed you.
"You want me to play with your cock baby, it that it?" You cooed, tapping the tip with your index finger and pulling away slowly, letting the string of precum stretch before popping your finger into your mouth. "You're so wet" You hummed at his taste, stating the words he'd always throw at you before tracing circles onto his sensitive head again, smearing his arousal around without actually stroking him.
"Fuck" Bucky hissed, nearly slumping again the door while you teased him, biting back the moans that were lodged in the back of his throat. You wrapped your hand around his thick length without actually moving, squeezing the base of his cock.
"What is it kitten" you sneered, mimicking his words from earlier, smirking at the way his cock throbbed in your hand in response. "Look at you" you whispered, "Oh sweet boy" You cooed again, this time moving your hand to cup his full, heavy balls, rolling them in your palm, "They've so heavy, does it hurt?"
"Hurts so bad" He moaned when you tugged them and squeezed them while nipping his neck. You lazily wrapped around his length again, giving him long languid strokes, watching his face twist with desperation for more. Bucky felt like a teenage boy, thrusting into your hand, struggling not to blow while you continued to jerk his cock, his hips rolling to fuck your fist. He felt like he'd never been touched before, this being the first time someone had ever taken control over him and it was something else, especially when it was you.
"Mmmph" He whined, confused and aroused at the same time, desperate for more of your delicious torture, his dom side slipping even more. He tried to regain his bearings, standing straight up again, sucking in a breath, "So jealous-
"So desperate" You tutted, smacking his cheek for opening his mouth while rubbing and stroking his shaft, ignoring his tip completely.
"C'mon bunny, touch me" He was breathless, chasing your hand each time he got close to getting the tip into your palm, groaning when you moved away.
"I am touching you, aren't' I?"
God, he loved you like this.
"The tip- please, need you there, c'mon, please"
A wicked idea sparked in your mind, pulling him by his tie to stand in front of the floor to ceiling high windows that overlooked the city. The same windows he'd fucked you against countless of times, letting the world see you fall apart. Now it was your turn.
Bucky could feel his heart hammer against his chest standing in front of the window, the city twinkling below him while you stood behind him, your hand coming around his waist to grasp his cock. Bucky's hands flew to the window, splayed wide to hold himself up, fucking his cock into your hand, hardly in control of his movements.
He pulled back enough so the head of his cock would rub against your palm before pushing forward again, chasing his orgasm, unable to take his eyes off the way his fat cock slipped in and out of you smaller hand.
"S'good to me bunny, need you ta' squeeze my cock harder, c'mon, need you bunny, I need you" He practically whimpered for you, balling his hands into fists when you complied with a hum, moving your hand with his movement, adding more pressure, feeling his cock grow harder.
"Gonn'a c-cum" Bucky stuttered out while you kissed his neck, letting him continue to fuck your hand, his tip nearly touching the cool glass with how fast he was moving. "Oh God-"
"Such a pretty, fat cock, you're making a mess baby, are you gonna cum in front of everyone and show everyone who you really belong to?" You whispered, only getting a slutty, guttural moan back in response. "Go a head baby, make yourself cum, show everyone you're mine"
"OH FUCKKKK" Your words tossed him over the edge, a pornographic moan slipped past his pink lips as he started to paint the windows with thick spurts of his cum. His body trembled, shivers running down his spine as his balls seized against his body, still feeling full as ever.
"Oh god, I can't stop" Bucky wrapped his hand on top of yours, jerking himself off faster, working up to a second orgasm, angling his hips to shoot at the window again, his head thrown back, nearly falling onto his knees. "C'mon, make me cum again, pleaseplease-
You pushed him back onto his large chair, pulling your dress up and panties to the side, impaling yourself onto his overstimulated cock, crying out when he gripped your hips and started to thrust up, not giving you any control. You clung onto him while he drilled up into you, dribbles of cum still pouring from the tip.
"You're mine sir, mine"
"M'all yours bunny, all fuckin' yours, use me, oh fuck, use me" You grasped onto his shoulders, riding him till tears streaked his face, taking everything you gave him while you pulled a third orgasm from him. And a fourth.
"I-I can't cum anymore, please, cock hurts bunny, I can't-
He was begging but he didn't want you to stop, his hips continuing to thrust up while he slammed your ass down on him sloppily, eyes rolled back while chasing your peaked nipples. He pulled you forward so he could suckle onto them while
"Your cock hurts baby boy?" you stroked his cheek, the new term of endearment making him hard all over again, a sob escaping him.
"It hurts so much, make it go away, m'still so hard, why's your pussy so good bunny"
"One more baby boy?"
"O-one more bunny"
By the end of the night, he was milked dry, holding onto you while you were tucked into his chest, his soft cock still buried deep in your pussy. His neck was littered with dark bruises you marked him with, trailing down to his chest. He cuddled you for a few more minutes before you both had to make your way back down, his hand not leaving yours.
"How was the call - oh-" the red head's eyes grew wide seeing the red and purple hues that peaked under Bucky's collar a proud smirk on his face while he put his arm around your waist.
"It went well. Closed a new deal, if you must know" He stated before pressing a kiss onto your cheek, grinning at the way you melted into him, his soft little bunny.
sorry, this was longer than i intended.
I want to ride Steven so slow and tender til he cries fam, just make him beg all sweet and pretty, kiss his forehead and eyelids and nose and mouth with as much leisure as he reads his books, ya feel?
Same, bestie, same. Really I just want to torture him like:
You push down the waistband of your pants just enough to let them slip the rest of the way off your hips, puddling at your feet. The movement catches Steven's attention, his eyes glancing up from his book. His mouth drops, a perfect little O that is so comical you nearly laugh. Next go your panties.
"Steven?" you ask mildly.
He shuts his book so, so slowly. He hasn't marked his page. His eyes are too busy being glued to your legs, your thighs, the place between your legs. His voice is an octave higher than normal when he asks: "Yes, love?"
"Can you get hard for me?"
He blinks. "I--am well on the way."
You point to the sofa, loving the awkward way he shuffles to it, nearly bashing his shin against the coffee table in his eagerness. His cock is hard, already, straining against the fabric of his slacks. You motion to it, brow raised, and his hands scramble to unfasten his pants, to shift them down his thighs so that his cock--long and thick enough to be pleasing, flushed a shade darker than his natural tan--pops free.
"What's gotten into you?" he laughs a little as you climb onto his lap. Any other question fades when you turn until your back is facing him, one hand reaching between your legs to find his cock and feed it into your aching cunt. "Oh, gods. You're so wet, love. Been thinking about me?"
You hum, shifting as you take the stretch of him, your thighs shaking a little with effort. At last you have lowered yourself down to rest against his lap. Sighing in pleasure, you lean back against his chest, craning your head so that you can search for his mouth with your own, kissing him filthy and slow.
You reach for the remote and turn on the telly--find one of your shows. After a few moments of stillness, Steven clears his throat softly (as if you could have forgotten him when he feels like he's guts deep inside you). "Are we--?"
"We're gonna sit just like this," you say, reaching an arm back to pet through his curls. "You're just going to be one of my toys today, keeping me stretched and filling me up. Yeah?"
All the breath goes out of him, expressed shakily against your neck. His cock jerks inside you, and you grip his curls a little tighter, tugging in warning. "Y-yeah?"
You hum again. "Be good, keep still, and stay hard for me."
And not ten minutes later, he's a mess, whining into the nape of your neck, toes curling and uncurling against the wooden floors as he tries to distract himself. His hands grip your hips, and sometimes you find him trying to move you, softly sway you on his cock. You pull his curls sharply, thrilling at the throaty groan he gives.
"Still, baby. Stay still."
His cock jerks.
"Steven."
"Can't...can't help it," he whines, breaths coming shallow and hot against your shoulder. "Oh please let me move you, love, please please--"
"I love when you beg," you sigh happily. "Know why, baby?"
"Why?" Steven asks, obedient even as he strains to be good for you.
You grin, letting your head rest back against his shoulder, turning to kiss at his sweaty temple gently. "Because I love telling you no, baby."
thinking about getting crossfaded with marc and then steven fronts ..!!!
18+ minors dni
words: 2.1k
warnings: crossfaded!steven grant x f!reader, marc angst if you squint, mentions of alcohol and weed, light choking, pinv sex, unprotected sex
summary: Marc comes home from a rough mission. He doesn’t want to talk about it; it’s one of those nights where he needs a crutch to ease his sore body and racing thoughts, and he needs you with him. When Steven fronts and is met with the unfamiliar effects of mixing smoking and drinking, there’s only one thing he feels like doing with (to) you.
It’s one of those nights where Marc creeps into the apartment after a long mission with his body sore and tired, his mind racing. It’s past midnight and the sound of the door opening has you stepping out of your shared bedroom and into the hall, arms wrapped around yourself and standing in one of Marc’s shirts as you watch him silently. You watch his broad back as he rummages through your junk drawer in the kitchen, pushing aside rubber bands and post it notes and business cards before grabbing a lighter and making his way to the balcony, fishing a joint from the back pocket of his jeans as he slides the door open and steps outside.
Of course, you follow him. You don’t say anything as you stand beside him and look out at the city skyline against the dark blue sky. You’ve been with Marc long enough and have seen him like this enough times to know that what he needs most is you by his side; not your pity, not your fear or worry, just your presence.
He leans his forearms on the railing and sparks the joint between his lips, taking a deep toke that he holds in his lungs for a few beats before blowing it out. The joint appears between two of his rough fingers an inch in front of your mouth. Marc watches with heavy eyelids as your soft lips close around the filter and you take a drag.
An hour or so later you’ve both made your way back into the apartment, Marc’s shoulders looking more relaxed, the notch between his eyebrows gone. The living room is lit only by the blueish street lamps outside that flood through the window and a few randomly placed candles you lit in an attempt to mask the lingering smell of weed. The coffee table’s become cluttered with a near-empty bottle of wine and two empty glasses, the lighter from the junk drawer and a triangular ashtray meant to resemble a pyramid from the museum gift shop.
The flashing picture of the television reflects in you and Marc’s dry eyes as you half-watch some shitty movie from your seat on the couch. You’re lying between Marc’s legs with your back to his torso, your head rising and falling against his chest with each breath. He’s so warm and his breathing is deep and slow, but you notice the way his stress lingers in how his large hands squeeze your waist, and his strong arms hold you against him so tightly as if someone or something would try to rip you away.
Later on, you feel Marc’s hold on you ease up and his breaths get deeper. Lifting your head slightly from his chest, you look up to confirm he’s asleep and press your lips softly to his stubbled jaw, whispering “I love you,” against his skin. You sit up and turn noiselessly above Marc so you can lay your chest on his torso and wrap your arms around him, pressing your cheek into his chest and closing your dry eyes to slip into your own sleep.
⋆
A sudden movement from beneath you forces you awake, making your heart jump in your chest and eyelids snap open to darkness; it was still nighttime. You must have just fallen asleep, because it’s easy to open your eyes and prop yourself up on your hands on either side of Marc’s body. His torso is tense against your chest and his breaths are quick. His hands no longer rest on your lower back, but hover just above it, as if you’ll break at the softest touch; this wasn’t Marc.
Steven’s red eyes are wide and looking at the paraphernalia that litters the coffee table, “Oh, dear,” he rasps in his accent, slightly slurring his words, “You and Marc have had quite the party.”
His eyes turn to meet yours and you bite the inside of your cheek as you realize something, Steven’s never gotten high before.
“Steven?” you say, “...Are you feeling alright?”
In the dark room you barely notice Steven’s cheeks flush red to match the colour of his eyes, his hands come to rest on your hips and his fingers play anxiously with the hem of your (his) shirt. You’re sitting on your knees between his thighs, still only wearing the shirt and a pair of panties. Your face is still flushed from being pressed against his chest and the blueish light from outside makes your skin glow softly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he rasps, “That stuff really… clouds your head up, dunnit?”
“Do you… like it?” you ask. Your big doe eyes are red and searching Steven’s face for any bad signs.
“I, well,” one of his big hands leaves your hip to scratch the back of his neck, his thick bicep flexing with the movement, “I don’t quite know what to do with myself, to be honest.”
His hips squirm slightly on the couch and you look down to see a bulge beneath his briefs, Marc having discarded their jeans hours earlier. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and bring a hand to rub up and down his thigh, the muscles tensing instantly as he inhales sharply, “You should just relax, baby,” you say, “Y’want me to help?”
“God,” he moans, “Yes, yes, I need your help, love. Please… please, help.”
“Tell me what you need, Steven.”
His hands push your shirt up out of the way, his fingers tugging at your panties, “Wanna fuck you,” he says lowly, “Please let me, baby.”
A quiet moan, almost a sigh, leaves you at his words. The drugs were doing something to Steven, whether he was more confident or he just wanted you that badly, you weren’t sure, but Steven was usually the timid one in the system, asking to be fucked rather than begging to fuck you. Regardless, his change in demeanor was more than okay with you.
His droopy eyes were dark and greedy as they raked over your body, and his warm hand cupped one of your tits over your shirt, salivating at the way the fabric outlined your hardened nipples. You whined at the touch, wanting to feel his skin on yours, “Fuck me, please Steven.”
Your clothes fall to the floor as Steven pulls them off of you. You hiss as he tugs your panties down and you feel the cool air against your warm centre.
“God,” Stephen groans, “You’re so wet f’me. Pussy’s glistening so pretty.”
“Stevennn,” you whine as he kneels above you, holding your knees open and staring down at your cunt.
“Shh, shh,” he stands to pull down his briefs and release his thick cock, dark hair trailing down his lower stomach to the base, before returning to the couch above you, “I’m here, baby. Let us take care of you, yeah?”
Steven grips his cock to guide it to your dripping centre, guiding the thick head through your wet folds to get himself slick. He lands a glob of spit on your cunt before slowly pushing into you. You whine out at the feeling, warmth pooling in your tummy at the familiar way he stretches you, “A-ah… Steven, mmh.” His cock is so hard and thick, and you can’t help that your walls are already squeezing around him.
Steven groans as he collapses over you, holding himself up with his forearms on either side of your head and pushing into you so slowly. Excruciatingly slow. Your head is still hazy from the wine and weed, all you can focus on is the pressure in your belly as Steven bottoms out inside of you. You’re clawing at his bare back, the muscles there rippling and tensing with each long thrust.
He leans his head back to look at you, how you look so pretty for him in the pale light, glossy eyes going unfocused and dumb and he pushes in and out of your cunt, your jaw slack and pink lips parted as you whine and moan, bare tits bouncing softly as he fucks you. He brings a big hand to your throat and squeezes so lightly that you barely register the pressure. Steven has seen Marc hold your neck like this so many times from the mirror in your bedroom, but the view of you pawing at his forearm as you gasp in breaths from this angle turns him on a thousand times more. It has him picking up speed, his thrusts causing a rhythmic and wet slapping as you gush around his length, your juices coating his heavy balls that slap against the soft flesh of your ass.
Your plush thighs tighten around his hips, your eyelids fluttering shut as you blindly paw at Steven’s hard chest, “Come here,” you whine, making Steven collapse over you again and chuckle softly.
“Is that nice, love?” his warmth breath hitting the shell of your ear, “Is my cock filling you nicely? Can you feel me in your belly, baby? Tell me.”
“S-so good, Steven. Sooo deep, mmh.”
“God, such a sweet girl,” he moans, trailing kisses from beneath your ear down your chest and to your tits, taking a nipple between his teeth before darting his tongue out to lick the bud, rolling your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, “Lettin’ me fuck you like a good girl, aren’t you? Takin’ this cock so well, so nicely.”
You open your eyes to watch Steven pinching and sucking on your nipples. A few dark curls fall over his forehead and his thick brows furrowed in concentration, all the while still thrusting into your leaking cunt. You squeeze around his girth at the sight, he was so hungry for you, sloppily and greedily devouring your tits, a trail of his spit glistening across your chest.
“Steven… W-wanna cum,” you whine, grabbing at his hips to pull him closer, deeper.
He pulls his mouth away from your nipple with a pop and looks down at you, all hooded eyes and puffy wet lips, “Shh, alright,” he coos, “Let me pound you ‘til y’cum. Would y’like that?”
You only manage to nod your head a few centimetres before Steven takes your hips in his hands, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he lifts your hips and begins slamming his cock into you. The new angle and the force of his thrusts has you crying out. Your cries and gasps fill the apartment, along with the smack of his hips against you, your pussy squeezing and squelching as Steven bullies his thickness inside your tight hole.
“That’s it,” he groans, “S’good at takin’ cock, sweet girl.”
The rough pad of Steven’s thumb began rubbing harsh circles over your clit, the pressure threatening to snap the invisible cord inside you. The thick head of his cock pounds that sweet spot deep inside you and his length rubs against your soaked and gummy walls.
“Fuckkk, y/n,” he moans, “Squeezin’ me so tight. Y’gonna cum, baby? All over m’cock?”
His deep and raspy voice has you falling over the edge, the invisible cord snapping in your tummy as you gush and throb around his length. Steven falls forwards and wraps his arms around you, your face buried into his neck as you sobbed, his face pressed into your hair as he grunted deeply.
Steven rides out your orgasm, pushing his still hard cock in and out of your sore cunt. He finally pulls out of you when you push on his chest and whine at the overstimulation.
He brings your legs together and hugs your knees to his chest, your ankles resting on his shoulder as he rubs his length between your wet, puffy folds and sticky inner thighs. You both stare down at the sight of his leaking cockhead poking through your thighs with each thrust.
“Mmf,” he moans, “M’cummin’, m’cummin’, fuckkk…”
Warm, thick spurts of Steven’s cum coat your lower belly as he cums. You swallow thickly and bite your bottom lip at the sight. It’s so filthy, Steven’s cock between your weak and shaking thighs, his forehead glistening with the effort of bringing you both to the finish line. His wet tongue darts out to wet his lips, his jaw slack as he stares down at your spent and fucked out body that’s now covered in his cum.
He presses a kiss to your shin before letting your legs down and heading to the bathroom for a cloth to clean you up, stumbling a little on the way.
Once he’s wiped you clean, Steven lays beside you propped up on his elbow, one hand on the side of your face and rubbing your temple with his thumb, the other roaming your body, squeezing your tits lightly, rubbing your tummy and hips, kneading the flesh of your thighs with his fingers.
You fall asleep to Steven’s warm voice in your ear. He chants quiet “Thank you”s and “I love you”s until he drifts off too.
<3
Fractional Focus
About this: Steven/fem!reader, fingering. Daddy kink is mentioned, but not an active kink element.
For Rose <3
*
How are you meant to help it?
Steven sits at his desk with a book in hand. When you’d (long ago) come to the realization that everything about him turned you on, you still hadn’t imagined this, that even the most mundane of actions could have your mouth dry and knees shaking.
But it’s the way his lips will mouth the words he reads. It’s how broad his hand is, cradling the spine of the book with all the tenderness he uses to touch you. It’s the lines of his body when he sits back and puts his feet up on the desk to make himself comfortable. It’s the way he turns the bloody pages, the rasp of his calloused thumb against the paper as he performs the well-practiced flick.
No one has any right to have you so hot and bothered just by reading a book. Steven makes a sound in his throat and sits up, letting his feet return to the floor so that he can plant one elbow on the desk and stare down into the book rapturously. His focus is so singular, so intensely devoted. So not yours.
“Steven?” you murmur, coming to stand behind him with your hands on his broad shoulders.
“Hm?”
“Do you think you’ll read all day?”
“Course not,” he says. Your heart lifts, then stalls and free falls when he adds: “I should be finished by dinnertime.”
You frown at the back of his head. His curls are so dark and thick. One of your thumbs skims up the back of his neck and strokes the soft strands. He hums but makes no other movement—except to turn the page.
“Steven?”
“Hm?”
“Do you think you could take a break?”
This has him pausing, finger moving to mark his place on the page while he turns to glance at you over his shoulder. He really should have his glasses on when he reads, but he’s misplaced them. By dinnertime, he’ll have a headache for sure. “A break? Absolutely. I’ve got about fifteen pages left in this chapter—”
You manage not to groan, but it is a very near thing. Your lips press together tightly to hold in the unhappy sound, but Steven’s eyes miss nothing, zeroing in on your minute, unhappy expressions. He raises one brow but says nothing. Something about his gaze has your ears growing warm, like you’re a child that he’s chastising for distracting him. Let daddy work, baby, and I’ll take you out for an ice cream cone later.
And oh, god, that’s a whole can of worms you aren’t ready to open.
“Am I neglecting you, love?” he asks lightly. You hold up your thumb and forefinger, the tiniest sliver of space between them. “I’m so very sorry. Good thing for you, I’m good at multitasking.”
He pats his lap. Smile brightening, you move to straddle him, ready to wrap your arms around his torso, bury your face in his neck, and nearly doze off to the sound of turning pages. But with a hand he stops you, twirling his finger to show that he wants you to sit with your back against his chest so that you are facing his book.
“Aztec History: a Captivating Guide to the Aztec Empire, Mythology, and Civilizations,” you read blandly. “Not really in the realm of my interests, Mr. Grant.”
“Well, ‘s not for you, is it?” he returns, looping an arm around your waist to draw you more firmly against him. “Now be good for me, yeah?”
You sigh as quietly as you can, lean your head back against his shoulder, and resign yourself to your fate. Steven deserves to enjoy his book. There will be other times—
His hand slips beneath your shirt to rest flat against your tummy. As warm as you are, he is burning hot in the best way. His rough palm smooths across your skin before falling still as he is distracted by the book. You can feel his lips moving soundlessly against your temple as he mouths the words.
Then his hand rises up to cup one of your breasts, holding the heft of it in his broad palm. You suck in a breath, holding it. Distractedly, he drags the pad of one thumb across your nipple.
“Fuck,” you whisper.
“Shh.”
He teases the bud into one aching point with lazy, aimless touches that have your thighs clenching together. All you want is for him to take it between his fingertips, to roll it so firmly and sweetly, to stoke the wetness between your legs.
But pulling his hand away, he reaches out to turn the page.
You breathe a laugh. “So it’s like that, is it?”
“Right?” he mutters back. “Eighty pages in and we’re finally getting to the comparisons between Egyptian and Aztec culture. Feel like I’ve been waiting eight hundred pages, personally.”
Page turned, he lets his hand fall back to rest on your lap, fingers gripping one bare thigh gently. He reads that way for several minutes, turning one page and then two until you’re just about to give up hope.
“Love, you’re squirming,” he says. “Be still for me, would you?”
You try.
His hand moves up to rest against your stomach again, immediately stilling your breaths. This time, he slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts. He cups his entire palm against your mound and just rests there. Something in the book must amuse him, because he snorts softly.
It’s degrading in the best way to be given only a fraction of his attention and to revel in it, to ache for it, to be so fucking grateful for it. Absently, he lets his fingers dip into the wet little seam between your legs, the tips of two fingers resting against your slick opening. He drags them up and right over your clit. Your entire body jerks like he’s electrocuted you.
“Still, please,” he reminds you.
“Steven,” you whine.
“Hush, none of that. This is just getting good.” You suspect he’s talking about the book, but you can’t help but agree. It takes all of your self control to stay still and let him strum his fingers, warm and wet with your slick, across your clit until the slide is smooth and frictionless. He begins to play with you without aim as if you are nothing but an outlet for his distractible energy, something he can toy with while his focus is on other things.
Just as you begin to climb that peak that has your legs already shaking in anticipation—he pulls his hand away to turn the page, pausing only to wipe your wetness on the bare skin of your thigh so that he doesn’t smear any on the pages.
“How’s he just going to skim over that?” Steven suddenly rants out loud, the fingers he’s just been using to torment you pressed against a line in the book. You couldn’t focus on the words if you tried, your brain fuzzy and blurry. “I’d read a whole bloody book about that on its own.”
He returns his hand to beneath the waistband of your shorts, rubbing those lackadaisical circles across your aching clit again and again. It becomes a race then, to finish in the space between one page in the next, in the time it takes for him to need to turn a page. He drives you upwards slowly and steadily, pausing every now and then to dip back to your hole to coax more wetness from you.
When you’re nearly there, legs shaking, you feel his hand tense, ready to withdraw to turn the page.
“Please don’t, please,” you pant. “I’m almost there Steven. Please?”
He sighs against your temple. “Turn the page for me, then, won’t you?”
Your hand trembles as you reach out. He increases the pressure of his fingers, and as soon as your own touch the page, you reach the crest you’d been climbing for the last half hour. The band deep inside your belly snaps, pleasure arcing over you like lightning, stiffening all your muscles. You only have a moment to think how you wish he was inside you before he tucks his fingers into you knuckle deep, sighing shakily at the way your cunt clenches around him.
“Such a good girl,” he says, kissing your temple. “Don’t forget to turn that page for me now, yeah?”
An open note to readers of fanfic
Sometimes I stare at the computer screen when the words don’t want to come and I think, “Fuck, who am I kidding? This is terrible writing, and this story is shit, and no one cares, anyway.” And I close the window and go do something else.
But every now and then I get an amazing, heartfelt, beautiful comment from someone who loved something I wrote, and it reminds me that, at least for that one person, I did write something worthwhile. And so I open the window again and I write one sentence, and then another, and then I start to find my way again.
So on behalf of all fanfic writers everywhere, I want to say thank you, thank you so much, to all of the readers who take the time to leave a comment and tell us that something we wrote mattered to you, that it brightened your day or made you laugh or cry or get horny or whatever.
Please don’t think we’re ever bothered by your comment, or that we don’t want to hear it, or that what you have to say isn’t important enough. It means so, so much. And on some days, it’s what keeps us going.
🔥🔥🔥
Sketched him a bit - Basil 🌿
workin on one right now :))))
What Good Girls Get
Pairing: Switch! Marc Spector x Sub!reader x Dom!Layla El-Faouly
Summary: While Layla is away, Marc wants to play. Being the good girl you are, you reject his advances and she rewards you while Marc is left to face the consequences.
Warnings: Dom/ Sub dynamics, polyamory, punishment, brat!marc, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, rough sex, sex toys, strap-ons, squirting, oral(f) receiving, oral(m) receiving, pet names, fingering, begging, spitting, slapping, aftercare, cuddles(Let me know if I missed anything:))
Word Count: 4.5k
A/N: This is only my second fic so I'm still working on getting better at exposition and stuff but I'm actually really proud of the smut and dialogue in this one. As always, feedback is welcome and encouraged. Enjoy!!
"We shouldn't. Layla told us we can't fool around while she's gone." you whine as you lay on the bed, Marc hovering above you. His face is buried in your neck while he plants sloppy kisses across your skin. You do your best to stand your ground but make no move to try and get him off you.
"Marc, I'm serious. Did you see the look in her eyes? She really meant it. I don't know about you, but I don't want to get on her bad side. We just got off punishment for the kitchen incident." It was quite a punishment too, but to be honest you deserved it. A few days ago, Layla had gone out to get dinner while Marc graciously offered to stay behind and help you finish preparing the dessert you were making for your friend's birthday. His help soon turned into a distraction as he started grabbing at you and pulling you against him, despite your determination to focus on the task at hand.
It started with Marc innocently feeding you a few of the strawberries you were cutting up and by the time Layla returned he had you on your knees, his dick covered in whipped cream, and you eagerly cleaning it off with your tongue. She had forbidden you two to touch yourselves or one another for the rest of the week as punishment and didn't let either of you out of her sight. She knew that would lead to more trouble.
That's why when she had been called to attend an event that would require her to stay across town overnight, she was hesitant. If it were just you, she wouldn't have worried. You're always on your best behavior. Unless Marc is there. He's always the instigator. You can count on one hand all the times you've been punished for something that didn't involve Marc. You craved Layla's approval, needed her to be proud of you. Marc made that incredibly difficult, though. Despite your better judgement, you almost always gave in. He had this hold over you that made him impossible to resist. Especially when Layla isn't there and you miss her.
Marc misses her desperately when she's gone as well, and that's part of the reason he acts out. It also doesn’t help that he is a brat through and through. For him, all the rules fly out the window the moment she steps out the door. He loves to rile her up. Lately he's been pushing his luck and punishments have been getting increasingly severe. Instead of turning soft at the end like Layla has a habit of doing, especially when it comes to you, she's started implementing 'no touching rules', ruined orgasms, edging with no release, withholding pleasure, etc. He also just can't help himself when he gets you all alone. It's like a switch flips in his brain and he just wants to pounce on you. Make you misbehave like he does. He knows you're Layla's good girl and he loves to see you turn into a dirty little slut for him.
"C'mon, it's not like she just ran out to the store, she won't be home until tomorrow. There's no way she'll find out." He continues to kiss down your neck and palms at your chest, making you arch your back.
"Yes, she will. I don't know how she does it, but she can always tell."
"That's because you can't lie to save your life, baby. You know, you really need to work on your poker face." he jests, and you shoot him a glare. But you can't help the small smile that forms on your face because you know he's right. If you're ever hiding something, you distance yourself from Layla, unable to even look her in the eyes. When she finally makes you, whatever you're hiding comes spilling out of you, completely out of your control. And if it had something to do with Marc, which is usually the case, he gets in trouble as well. It's detrimental to you both.
" You really don't want to?" Marc asks. He gives you puppy dog eyes, pulling out all the stops to try and get you to give in.
"Of course, I do." You play with the hem of his shirt, trying to ignore the way you feel his bulge against your thigh.
"I just really don't want to disobey her. We don't have to wait too long; she'll be back tomorrow. And who knows, maybe she'll even reward us for being good. It's been a while." You offer, trying to convince not only him but yourself to resist the temptation.
"It's been a while for me. She rewards you all the time. It's not fair." He pouts and pinches your sides, making you giggle.
"That's because you actually have to behave for that to happen, dummy. You just have to learn to follow the rules. And tonight is the perfect opportunity to try it out." you stroke his hair reassuringly. It would do him some good to practice some restraint.
"I'll try." he says, with absolutely zero sincerity in his voice.
"How about we go watch a movie instead? She never said we couldn't cuddle." He nods, smiling at you innocently enough to convince you he has given up. You cup his face and pull it to yours, and you plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. He stands, helps you up, and you both head to the living room.
Marc manages to keep his hands to himself through most of the film. He has you held against him, fitting snuggly in his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, enjoying the safe and warm feeling he provides. You even start to doze off, but awaken when Marc shifts, telling you he's heading to the bathroom. In his absence, you lay your head down on the cushion. Rolling over on your stomach, you feel yourself succumb to the drowsiness again. A few minutes later, you are startled awake when you feel the couch dip, and a weight settle on your backside. You curiously turn your head to find Marc straddled across your thighs. You try to wriggle away, but he puts his full weight on your back and effectively stops you. He starts kissing and licking down the back of your neck.
“Marc, you were doing so well. Let’s just go to bed.” you plead.
“I'd love to take you to bed.” he responds, then starts softly nipping at your skin.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” You feel him grin against you and it sends tingles across your skin.
“C'mon it’s not like I'm going to tell. And you’ll have until tomorrow evening to get yourself together enough to face Layla. You can keep one little secret, can’t you?” You are already putty in his hands and let wanton moans fall from your lips at the warmth of his mouth on your skin and his hands grabbing at your sides.
“I want to so bad. I just… I wanna be a good girl.” you whine.
"Well, it's nice to know one of you respects me.” Layla chimes in, and you both jump, startled by her surprise entrance. Neither of you had heard her come in. You freeze, and so does the man above you. A feeling of dread falls over you but is overtaken by a feeling of delight when your eyes land on your beautiful girlfriend. She’s still wearing the outfit she wore to the event, and she looks breathtaking.
"I managed to find a way to come home early to the loves of my life and this is what I find. Did I not make myself clear before I left?" She scolds, but there is a slight playfulness to her tone.
Marc, still refusing to look at her, lifts himself into a sitting position. You glance back at him and see the look of contemplation on his face. He could play this one of two ways. He could apologize profusely and get on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness, or he could stand his ground and see how far he can push his luck. Being the brat he is, he obviously chooses the latter. Not even bothering to answer her, he flips you over and Layla rounds the coffee table to stand in front of you both. He moves his eyes to hers as he starts grabbing at you and sliding your shirt up, exposing your breasts. Layla’s silence is deadly, yet the look on her face is eerily calm.
He grabs your bare chest and starts tweaking your nipples, and you whimper at the sensation. You don’t want to upset her, but it just feels so good. You rub your thighs together trying to relieve some of the pressure building in your core.
Neither of your partners notice as both sets of eyes are locked in a stare, waiting to see what the other will do next. The mischievous grin on Marc's face makes you nervous. You know he’s playing with fire and isn’t considering the consequences. But as always, his behavior manages to stoke the flames in the pit of your stomach. You don’t know what it is, the thought of testing Layla's patience yourself never crosses your mind. But seeing her reaction when Marc does it makes you want him to keep going, even though you know he’ll pay for it later.
You grab Marc’s wrists, not even sure if it’s to stop him or urge him on and you shoot Layla a pleading look, silently begging her to do something. Marc finally looks away as he brings his mouth down to one of your breasts. He latches onto your nipple and rolls it between his teeth. You let out a squeal and squeeze your eyes shut.
“Do you want him to stop?” You don’t even hear what Layla says as Marc's other hand travels down your stomach and lands on your clothed mound.
“Look at me, angel. I asked you a question. Do you want Marc to stop?” Trying to steady your voice as his fingers slip into your underwear, dragging up and down your wet folds, you whimper, “It feels good but…but I don’t want to disobey you.” She gives you a soft smile and wears a proud look on her face, causing a warmth to bloom in your chest. She walks towards you and bends down so her face is level with yours.
As she starts petting your hair she coos, “Of course you don’t. Because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” you preen at her words. No matter how good Marc’s touch makes you feel, nothing compares to Layla's praise. With a newfound strength and determination to prove her right, you push Marc’s hand out of your pants and shove his face away. He watches you cover your chest, making it impossible for him to continue, and he huffs.
He sits up and contemplates his next move. He was really banking on you giving in and being able to test your girlfriend's patience together. Even when he's facing punishment himself, he loves seeing you endure one too. Seeing Layla's little angel get in trouble turns him on in a way he can’t describe. But it looks like you had more willpower than he thought, and he’ll be taking this one on his own.
As a last-ditch effort, he blurts out “She started it.” You gasp, knowing that’s a bold-faced lie.
He continues, “She was on me the moment you walked out the door. But you know how irresistible she is when she begs, I couldn’t help it. I’m just doing what you would’ve done.” He leers back at her, trying to stand firm. Layla sighs, not believing him for a second. She's getting frustrated. As much as she hates it when you two break the rules, she hates when you lie about it even more. She usually lets you off easier if you come forward and tell her what really happened. You always do but Marc has the habit of dodging the truth until she drags it out of him. It’s a nasty habit that she’s determined to break, and now is the perfect opportunity.
“He’s lying! He was trying to fuck me all night! I told him you’d be mad, but he wouldn’t listen.” You match the glare he shoots you, and he grabs your thigh firmly in warning, not appreciating the outburst. But you weren’t going to roll over on this one. You had worked really hard to finally find the strength to not give in for once and you’d be damned if you went down for this with him. You want your reward for being a good girl and you aren’t going to let him ruin that.
“You believe me don’t you, Lay?” You look up at her through your lashes and give her the sweetest look you can muster up. The nickname brings a smile to her face, and she replies, “Of course I do, baby.”
“But” Marc starts, and Layla raises her brow at him, daring him to keep testing her patience. He backs down immediately, hanging his head in defeat.
“Go lay on the bed sweetheart.” She instructs and leans down, connecting her mouth with yours. Marc, enjoying the show, subconsciously starts stroking your thigh but she is quick to swat his hand away. “You, go stand at the foot of the bed. And keep your hands to yourself.” she commands, and he follows you into the bedroom, dragging his feet.
He stands in front of you now, arms crossed in annoyance, and you smirk at him. “Thanks a lot.” he sneers.
“Hey, I said to be patient and we’d get rewarded. Maybe this will teach you a lesson.” you say smugly, and he rolls his eyes.
Layla enters, grabbing the chair from the desk and placing it in front of the bed. She makes Marc strip. She then ties up his hands and orders him to sit but leaves him unrestrained otherwise. She removes her jacket and proceeds to strip you, softly caressing your sides as she does, and your skin heats up under her touch. Shifting you, she lays you at the end of the bed, parallel to the headboard, and gives Marc a full view of her body and yours. Normally he'd be thankful but under these circumstances it's torturous.
She makes her way down your body, nipping and sucking at your skin. She's always thorough, taking the time to admire every inch of you. After leaving your stomach and thighs covered in love bites, and running her tongue over your marked skin, she buries her head between your thighs. She's gentle and diligent but she doesn't rush. Doesn't eat you out in a frenzy like Marc tends to do. She knows your body better than you do and knows just what to do to have you fall apart on her tongue.
She has to hold your waist down as you writhe on the bed. Your sultry moans and desperate cries have Marc involuntarily bucking his hips into the air, begging for relief. Before you know it, she has you cumming hard and you grind your hips against her mouth as she sucks on your clit, helping you ride the waves of pleasure. Giving you a second to catch your breath, she then positions you on the edge of the bed, exposing you to Marc, and takes her place behind you. She wraps her legs around yours and uses them to spread your thighs. Her movements begin slow, like before, and she starts by gently circle your clit with her fingers. The torturous speed has you crying out for more. Wanting to give you whatever your heart desires, she dips her fingers into you. They slip in easily, and each delicious drag of her digits against your walls has you bucking your hips against her hand.
Your arousal starts to form a ring around her fingers and drips onto the floor. The sight has Marc falling to his knees in front of you, face nearing your center. Layla gives him a warning look, but she can feel you getting close, so she doesn’t want to stop. Then she gets an idea. She pushes faster against that sweet spot inside you and matches that rhythm as she starts rubbing your swollen bud. Mesmerized by the sight, Marc leans his head against your thigh.
“No touching.” Layla commands and he nods. He doesn’t move any closer, practicing more restraint than he ever has in his life. She starts nipping at that spot under your ear and it has you squirming. You feel that familiar pressure building that you didn’t feel with your previous climax and smile, realizing what’s about to happen, and your whole body tenses. “I'm cumming” is all you can say before you start spasming and you explode all over his face. Marc flinches slightly at the unexpected splash of your arousal. It just keeps streaming out of you and he quickly opens his mouth wide, groaning as your sweet nectar coats his tongue. He gives Layla a pleading look, and she knows what he wants.
“You can clean off her thighs.” she says, loving the hungry look on his face. He laps at your drenched thighs and savors the taste that he's been dying for all night. You let out a satisfied purr and you eyes fall closed, feeling soothed by the warmth of his tongue. When he's finished, he takes a moment and just stares at your sex. Before he can stop himself, he lurches forward to indulge in your arousal from the source. Before he can reach you, though, Layla yanks his head back by his hair, clicking her tongue at him.
“Still don’t want to listen, huh?” She moves from behind you and drags him back to the chair. You already miss her warmth, but your excitement grows as she goes to open the trunk you keep on the corner of the room and pulls out some rope and a harness with the familiar pink silicone attached to the base. Your heart starts beating faster and you bite your lip, thrumming with excitement at what’s coming next. She inches the chair closer to the bed, and Marc is now just inches away. She ties him to the chair now, ignoring his grumbling. With her guidance, you are now on your hands and knees, head halfway off the end of the bed, now face to face with Marc. As Layla puts on the strap-on, you can’t help but smile at the pout on his face. You've never seen him this frustrated before and you would feel bad for him if it didn't turn you on so much.
Your girlfriend situates herself behind you, kissing up your spine, and you pull her up so her mouth meets yours and you moan at the saccharine taste of her. When she breaks the connection, her mouth finds your ear and she whispers, “You’re doing so good for me. My obedient girl.” The comment makes your heart swell. You hum, looking her in the eyes, and whisper “I love you.” She nuzzles her face against yours she affectionately replies, “I love you too, angel."
She sits back onto her haunches and rubs the silicone up and down your folds, each flick against your clit making your breath hitch. As she slides the length in to the hilt, you cry out and she sets a maddeningly slow pace. You're about to beg for more, but she already knows what you want. She slowly pulls out to the tip and then slams back into you, and begins giving you those hard, deep thrusts you crave.
After a while, your arms give out underneath you and you fall onto your chest. The arch of your back gives her a delicious view of your ass and she gives it a quick slap. You whine for more and she continues, landing multiple hits to both your cheeks and thighs and you squeal in delight. When she's done, she grabs firmly onto your hip with one hand and the other comes up to settle on the back of your neck and she pulls you back to meet her thrusts.
With your face now just inches away from Marc, you stick your tongue out, unable to resist the temptation to taunt him. It's a pretty juvenile thing to do, you admit, and can’t help the giggle you let out at the sight of the frustration bubbling up inside him, the aggravation showing clear as day on his face. Before you can pull your tongue back in your mouth, he leans forward and spits fast and hard, some landing in your open mouth, and some on your cheek. You gasp, but your surprise quickly morphs into a pathetic whine, loving the taste of him. You drag your tongue over your lips and the surrounding area, trying to get to the spatter that missed your mouth. A satisfied smirk appears on his face, and he mutters, "filthy fucking slut." You whine at his words, and it has you clenching down onto the silicone filling your cunt.
Layla, however, was not amused. She shoves your face down onto the mattress and leans over you to deliver a harsh slap to Marc's face. He moans at the contact, relieved to finally get some sort of stimulation. Before the sting can even settle over his skin, she delivers another. Then, she removes her weight from you and pulls your head up once more.
“That wasn’t very nice, was it baby?” You don’t respond, honestly wishing he'd do it again.
“Oh, you liked it didn’t you, naughty little thing.” You moan at her teasing and look Marc in the eyes, whining, "I want something in my mouth.”
He jolts forward, wanting to break free and give you what you want. An anticipative look crosses his face, and he hopes Layla will make him part of your reward.
“Oh, I'm sorry baby. Here you go.” Determined to keep Marc out of this, Layla hooks her fingers into your mouth. She chuckles at Marc's reaction as she sees his shoulders slump, clearly disappointed. You immediately wrap your lips around her digits and he zeros in on your movements, imagining it was him in your mouth instead.
Her thrusts become more brutal, each one knocking the thoughts right out of your head. You feel yourself mentally slipping, unable to form even one coherent sentence. All you can do is babble nonsense, hoping she understands how close you are to your release. Layla drags your head up by your hair and you face Marc again, mouth open and drooling down into the sheets. He's seen that look before and he knows you're right on the edge. He looks you right in the eyes and whispers, " Do it, baby. Cum." He's not even sure you heard him, but your eyes immediately roll to the back of your head, and you start shaking. Layla holds you against her, knowing you love the closeness and skin to skin contact when you fall apart. All you can feel is white hot pleasure and you're crying out, mouth open in a silent scream as you gasp for breath. You don't even have time to come down from your climax before Layla starts pounding into you again, hard and fast. She holds you down, making you cum again and again.
When she can tell you've had enough, she stops her movements but stays planted inside you to the hilt, knowing you don’t want to feel empty just yet. She runs her hands all over you, trying to bring you back to her and help steady your breathing. You can't tell how much time has passed but when you're finally conscious of your surroundings again, the first thing you see is Marc's pitiful form in front of you. You want to help him. His angry red tip looks painful, and you actually start to feel bad for him. You somehow muster up the strength to reach an arm out to him and he looks at you lovingly. You were just fucked into oblivion, but you still want to make sure he feels good. It makes him smile and he desperately wants to pull you into his arms.
“Can I touch him, please?” You look over your shoulder and give Layla your best puppy dog eyes, hoping she'll cave like she always does when you look at her like that. She arches her brow at you and asks, “Am I not enough, sweetheart?”
“No! You are!” you reply frantically, immediately regretting your words. You continue, “Just look at him. So pathetic. I think he's learned his lesson.” He's been waiting so long and he’s so frustrated he can feel tears starting to form in his eyes. “Please. I'm so sorry. I'll behave. I promise." he begs.
She sighs, feeling conflicted. She knows she has pushed him hard but he did deserve it. She feels herself turning soft at that needy look in his eyes and concedes. She knows what he really wants. He wants one of you to ride him until he sees stars. This is still a punishment, however, so she decides to give him another form of relief.
Leaning down and kissing the crown on your head, she checks in, making sure you're not too overworked. She really gave it to you hard and wants to make sure you don't overdo it. "Are you sure? You look a little worn out." You're touched by her concern but nod eagerly.
"Go ahead baby. He can have your mouth." The sigh of relief that leaves Marc makes you want to laugh. You turn back to him, and your outstretched hand moves to caress his face. He leans into your touch, and kisses at the palm of your hand. You slide it down off his face and Layla helps you to your knees. He makes the most pitiful noise when you take him into your mouth, finally feeling the relief he's waited hours for. You have him cumming in just a few minutes and he thanks both of you profusely.
You're all exhausted, but that doesn't stop them from loving on you. Layla goes to draw a bath while Marc picks you up off the floor, placing soft kisses all over your face. He carries you to the bathroom, where Layla begins to do the same as Marc places you in the tub. The feeling of their love wraps you like a warm blanket, relaxing your mind as the bath water relaxes your tired muscles. You're half asleep when you all finally pile into bed, cuddling up close to one another. Layla lays you in the middle of them the middle and they wrap their arms around you and each other. Not having the energy tonight, you and Marc will be sure to give her a proper 'welcome home' in the morning.
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indulging in anything that fuels my delusions NSFW/18+ MDNI she/they, 24MasterlistAO3
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