#x m reader

Pornographic moans were being forced out of you; every thrust from behind hit you at the core in the most amazing way, but forced your body forward, pushing out gasps, and groans, and moans, and high-pitched whines. The weight of the man behind you, more on top of you really, kept your chest against the bed, rubbing your nipples raw against your bedding. However, his rough hand on your hip and your natural instinct to push towards the pleasure kept your hips up, just off your bed. The muscular, veiny arm around your neck prevented you from resting your head on the pillow you were tightly scrunching in your fists. Though you had no complaints, not only was it hot as fuck to get fucked whilst you were technically in a headlock, getting to drool all over Nate Jacobs' bicep and forearm was sexy yet felt like payback for him being a douche. Nate's head was resting right next to yours, his massive, muscular body draped over yours as his hips thrusted his huge dick in and out of you.

His breath was hot against your ear; his rough moans, his groans, his rare whines that he cut short the moment he was letting such a noise out, they were the main sounds echoing throughout your head. The background noise of rhythmic, animalistic skin slapping against skin - from either Nate's hand crashing against your cheeks to spank you, or from the sheer force of the man's hips fucking against your plump ass - joined the harmony of sounds within your bedroom. Your own moans and rough breaths, along with the drowned-out, fuckboy music Nate had put on beforehand, were also adding to the sonic ambience of your bedroom. While the shockwaves of pleasure zapping throughout your entire body and stimulating every single nerve ending were the main source of your pleasure, you couldn't deny that the fact Nate Jacobs was fucking the shit out of you also incredibly turned you on. Sure, he's ridiculously attractive in that all-American, quarterback way. But it was mainly the fact that the dickhead who would bully you in high school, then fuck you in the back of his truck, was still so wrapped around your finger. Among the sexy moans and groans Nate would let out, Freudian slips of compliments and desperate statements would also pop up. On a nightly basis, you would hear many things along the lines of "Fuck- you're so beautiful", "A-Ah- Shi- (nameeee)... Fuck yeahhh~", "I need you so bad... please- fuck- I want you....", and your personal favourite "I'm sorry- augh- please just- just be with me... Ngh- please". Fuck yeah, that fed your ego.

Although when it got to this point, when your sight had gone blurry, your body trembling and your voice hoarse, you found you struggled to focus on the pathetic fall from grace of Nate Jacobs. Instead, your focus was on the intense muscle spasms across your body and how your moans would increase in pitch with every one of Nate's thrusts. Your focus was on how Nate's eight-inch, uncut cock had practically moulded your hole to its shape; his thick, mushroom head hitting your prostate and further every. single. time. Literally making you see stars in the form of white dots. Your focus, however little was left of it, was on the way the leaking tip of your dick would rub against your bedding in rhythm with the man's thrusts and send your body into overdrive. You could hear Nate's voice change in tone and volume, his groans becoming even more annoyingly attractive somehow as the rhythm of his thrusts began to become slightly erratic. You knew he was desperately close, and so were you; despite him already making you cum from his fingers and mouth alone during your heated foreplay. Finally, your release hit; your muscles tightening, dopamine and serotonin hitting you like a truck as your moans became pathetically whorish. Your dick almost hurt as it gushed a second load, shooting straight onto your bedding and soaking whatever Nate had put below your hips to help keep you up. Nate, on the other hand, was groaning your name along with unintelligible strings of compliments as he buried his dick as deep as he could inside of you. His muscular hips, his perfect V-line, was pressed up against your plump ass as hard as he could, grinding his dick into you as he shot his thick load inside of you. You know for a fact he was pent up. Not just from the sheer volume of cum and how hard his orgasm had hit him, but also from his constant sob-stories and complaining about Cassie.

............

Your entire body was drenched in sweat and littered with love bites, your neck tattooed with hickeys. The cacophony of sex had quietened down; now, all that could be heard throughout your bedroom was you and Nate catching your breaths out of sync. The real-estate developer had moved off of you, lying beside you, an arm still draped over your waist. These days, he tries to keep the physical contact going; whether that's conscious or subconscious, you don't know. You weren't facing him. You didn't like facing him right after; you liked to give yourself a moment. Instead, you lie on your bed and look outside your window. The city skyline on a rainy night was one of your favourite views. You'd done well for yourself after high school. In those five years, you'd gotten a degree and landed an internship you'd studied hard for. You make enough to pay for a whole floor to yourself, even though you're still entry-level at your current job. It's not a penthouse, but you have no neighbours; good thing, 'cause they would hate you for how loud you can get with men.

Nate's voice broke you out of your thoughts and admiration of the California night sky.

"Y'know... I'd leave her for you" The man mumbled behind you.

You quietly sigh and turn over to face him.

"Nate... I don't want you to do that" You chuckle.

"Wh- (name), c'mon... please... Y'know I..." Nate's words die on his tongue.

"Know you... what?" You play dumb. You knew exactly what Nate wanted to say. You also knew he could barely bring himself to say something like that.

"Fuck's sake... You know I'm gay, (name). You know I haven't stopped fucking thinking about you for five fucking years-" His fingers tighten around your waist. "I fucking..." Nate's words die on his tongue again.

Every night, Nate shocks you with how much less prying it takes for him to admit that he's gay. But honestly? You don't care. It shocks you because the quarterback who would publicly slam you into lockers and call you fag would never have admitted he was screwing you and saying 'I want you' on the weekend. It doesn't shock you because you hope that one day, the two of you will walk off into the sunset hand in hand towards a happily ever after. Maybe the insecure gayboy you were in high school truly hoped for that when Nate would cuddle you to sleep and would smooth-talk you, but he's shown you time and time again his selfishness and his own insecurity. You don't care about him anymore; he's just a screw. A really good, mind-shattering screw. But nothing more than that.

"What about Cassie? I remember you saying she was the right girl for you, especially since she was y'know... an actual girl haha" You giggle again, remembering the speech Nate gave you when he broke things off with you to get with Cassie.

"I don't fucking love her- She's tryna get famous by doing borderline porn..! I'll divorce her right now, just give me the signal!" Nate insists.

In all honesty, you didn't care about Cassie in this situation, just like you didn't care about Nate. If that made you a bad person, you, again, didn't really care. Both he and she were far removed from your life at this point, no matter how hard Nate tried to force himself back into your life. Really, you didn't know what to expect when you ran into Nate for the first time after high school. You definitely didn't expect to start fucking again, but you didn't mind it. A consistent, no-strings-attached fuck buddy who was really good at sex? Didn't seem like a bad deal. You really didn't expect Nate to catch feelings for you again, and you absolutely didn't expect him to seriously insist that he'd somehow grown up and was becoming more confident in his sexuality.

"Nate... Baby... You can leave her if you want. That doesn't mean I'll be waiting for you with open arms" You say in a slightly patronising tone.

"But why?!" Nate sat up, forcing you to lie on your elbow to be able to face him. "I fucking... I fucking love you! Why won't you just let me love you?"

It was so weird hearing that from Nate. Only once had he said it in high school, and once since you'd started screwing again.

"Because I don't believe you..? Obviously?" You said it like it was common sense.

The look in Nate's eye did tug at your heartstrings a little. He looked hurt, not understanding why you assumed he was so untrustworthy.

"Nate. You told me time and time again that you'd fuck everyone off and date me no matter what people think, then the next morning act like I was stupid for believing you. Why would I believe you now? Why would you want me now, all of a sudden? 'Cause you find me a better screw than Cassie? Or is it 'cause I'm making more money than your failing business and you need me to send you money like I used to in highschool?" You dished out some low blows, but they had to be said.

"What?- No- I- Ngh fucks sake (name), no! I just... I love you... I don't feel like this towards Cassie; I never really felt like this for Maddy. It's always been you 'n I've just been too much of a bitch to grow up and make you mine!"

"Nate... Just leave it. You're married to Cassie. We've both ended up fine; there's no need to fuck it up. If you wanna keep screwing, then I'm down, but I'm not taking your word on anything" You say as you turn back around, facing your window and closing your eyes to fall asleep.

Nate doesn't quip back at you; he sits with what you said. His arm tightens around you and pulls you into him. As you fall asleep, Nate tries to come to terms with the fact that you find him untrustworthy. One way or another, he needs to make you his. It feels like he's drowning; he's in a shit marriage, married to a woman as a gay man, and his business is slowly losing money. Nate feels like he's drowning, and that you're like a breath of fresh air, giving him a break from life every second he spends with you. Slowly, Nate falls asleep, thoughts of divorcing Cassie, and doing anything to prove himself to you, running through his mind as he dozes off to the feeling of your warmth in his arms.

YO YO YO! The yaoi prohet, the gay gangsta, the male reader maniac has returned!!

That was cringe but highschool english taught me rule of three so i stick by it! Anyways I've officially finished my second year of University! Very fun but a lot of work; I also earned a role on a society (club) commitee so I was just real busy sorry guys. Also got a boyf and broke up with said boyf cause he was not for me lmfao so yeah busy busy!

Idk if I'll be writting often but it's still my only way of expressing creativity so I don't see myself fully stopping anytime soon yk

Anyways hope you enjoyed this fic cause wtaf is Euphoria becoming?

Kaiser was so wet from the long minutes you spent eating him out that moisture coated his thighs; a filthy mix of sweat, slick, and saliva glistening on the insides of them. The bed below him was no better and the sheet stuck to his back. Kaiser wanted more than anything to take a second shower and clean himself up, but any rational thought slipped away when your tongue slid home ── into him again, with the same hunger as when you first opened his legs and buried yourself between them earlier.

Sex after he had done his whole nighttime ritual (as you called it) and gotten ready for bed: body warm from the shower, legs moisturized and clean boxers on his hips, was a definite no. You knew that. But you took advantage of his tiredness and irritation anyway. You snuggled between his legs to lie on his stomach while he rewatched the match from hours ago. Kaiser gave you a suspicious look behind the lenses of his glasses, but allowed you to get close.

He knew it was a bad decision as soon as you started mumbling, always so obviously uninterested in football that Kaiser had no idea how he still tolerated you. You turned your head then, buried your nose in his thigh and breathed in deeply. Inhaling his scent.

Kaiser ignored you and kept his attention on the television, another bad choice that he only realized when he felt your teeth sink into his skin, his sex pulsing in response under the hot weight of your body against his groin.

"[name]," he warned you then, grabbing your hair without any attempt to feign care, trying to move your mouth away.

You grumbled like a small child and Kaiser, trying not to find another reason to stress, left you. When your fingers went to the elastic of his underwear then, Kaiser looked at you disinterestedly, without a move to help you. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Helping you relax?"

"You're asking me?" Kaiser scoffed. "I don't see how eating me out is going to do anything for my stress."

"Well, it certainly helps with my stress," was your response.

What damn futile reason would you have in your little life to be stressed? You did nothing! All day! Living like a little trophy wife.

On the television, the narrator shouts, announcing the goal. The opposing team's goal against Bastard Munchen. From the footage he could almost see his own face in the distance, contorted in irritation. Kaiser's temple throbs and fuck, he lifts his hips, allowing you to undress him.

Now, you moaned against him, sounding so damn pleased with the taste of him that even as a stab of pain jolted his hips from the pressure of your tongue swirling around his clit, Kaiser doesn't try to stop you and just surrenders to your whims.

He is hyperaware of also not being able to shut up. Maybe it's the accumulated tension, the days he spent away from home, never lowering to the desire to touch himself, the game they won but by very little. Maybe because of one or all of the above, but Kaiser is talking, loudly, grunting, moaning, comfortable and shivering on his pile of soft pillows.

Everything in him was burning and throbbing and wet. You were a sloppy eater, on purpose, Kaiser accused. His muscular thighs squeeze your head, sure to suffocate you against his pussy even as the sensations distort, sensitive and almost numb at the same time. Unsure whether he wanted more of this pleasure or not.

"Hng, fuck, fuck- oh- ooh!" Your lips close around his swollen, hypersensitive clit, sucking. Kaiser's hips lift off the bed, meeting your mouth, unable to stop the tremors as yet another orgasm washed over him, taking his breath with it.

He thinks he might have passed out for a few seconds, because when he comes back to, your mouth is against his, kissing him, even though Kaiser can barely kiss you back. His tongue feels loose inside his mouth. There's a lot of saliva accumulated and running down his chin, but it doesn't seem to bother you. Gross.

The game replay is over. A new program is running behind your back. You're reaching between your bodies, fingers sliding between Kaiser's puffy pussy lips, spreading the wetness even further, he's not sure, dizzy and-

Your cock presses against him, the tip wide and hot, and then sinks into him with ease. Kaiser's pussy is so relaxed and sloppy that it can barely squeeze around the intrusion, so sensitive, so sensitive, but you fuck him anyway. Your hips slam against his fast, hard, in and out, in and out. As if he were a whore or something even lower. Something made to be used for your pleasure.

"Mihya," you're singing like a praise, kissing every bit of skin you can reach. "You feel so good- you're so wet for me. Fuuck. I won't last. Your cunt is so perfect-I can't- Michael..."

Kaiser gives up trying to kiss you and moves his mouth away, he doesn't care now about the pathetic expression he must be making right now: tears rolling down his cheeks, glasses already lost, drooling.

He knows you won't last, soon you'll cum, finish making his insides a mess with your seed. It hurts, all of him seems to throbs; his cunt gets even wetter, squirting or cumming (maybe both) around your cock as he screams. He can't take it anymore, he can't...

If you decide to be more smug and teasing about it, he’d pretend it bothers him, occasionally truly get annoyed by it, but the second you get your hands off of him he gets even more bothered.

The moment your thighs arent constantly touching again or you take your hand off of his shoulder he’s suddenly all frustrated and can’t focus in the slightest. Will propably keep fidgeting and huffing untill you join his side once again. If somehow you still wont do so, he will throw some sarcastic comments and pull you back in, pretending it’s for your sake.

However, if the atmosphere between the two of you gets More relaxing he has no problem admiting he does enjoy the attention. Expecially when it’s just the two of you.

Zanka would mumur some sort of soft praise before clinging back to you the same way you cling to him.

Overall whenever it comes to pda he will need time to get used to it, though I doubt he would be too much against it, at least to some extend. Zanka is not the type of guy to keep his man a secret, so while even the simplest affection may make him a bit frustrated at first I doubt he would mind it much.

That being said simple touches in public are totally on the table, but he would like not to get too passionate whenever others are watching.

It was one of those days.

"But I..." He begins, hands clasping his knees. There are bruises turning color on his skin from the last fight. His vision seems worse today. He's going to suffocate.

You silence him instantly, Johan feels the embarrassment tighten around his throat along with the weight of the collar at your choice of words. "Dogs don't talk. We've already talked about that, haven't we?"

Of course, Johan knew dogs couldn't talk; that was one of the reasons he'd agreed to this act. He didn't want to have to talk or think. But the restlessness in his stomach still made him want to stutter nonsensically, to say something, anything. There was a part of him that wanted to fight, to surrender, to whine to you — he was a mess of feelings.

A lost puppy.

"You understood?"

Johan nods.

"Puppy?" You pull on the leash.

He then understands the order and obeys: "Woof."

"Good. Good boy."

It's humbling, how easily he bows to you with a simple gesture. A snap of your fingers, a point down. On hands and knees. Like a well-trained dog, he's obeying, pushing his butt up in the air, and looking back at you expectantly. Did I do it right? Can you tell me?

"Just like that, such a smart pet," you say and Johan's chest swells with pride.

Your hands fall to his buttocks, caressing, soothing the goosebumps. He feels himself tighten at the attention, tensing around the little plug that fills him, barely enough to do anything but keep him smooth and taut. "I'm going to take this out of you now," you warn before starting to pull the plug out. Johan is suddenly empty, and a needy sound escapes his throat before he can stop it. A whimper.

"Shh shh," you hush, your warm thumb finding the relaxed, smooth edge. "You were a good pup, weren't you? Obedient little thing, carrying your plug around all day without trying to take it off, just waiting for your owner to come home. Look at that cute hole, all red and stretched, barely closing."

Johan's ears burned, but he could only rock back against your hand. After feeling the silicone filling his ass all day, the emptiness now felt wrong. He had been good to you all day, knowing that when he got home he could just be your little dog.

"What do you want, pet? Can you tell me?"

Johan fights the instinct to fall into a messy begging, remembering that good dogs don't talk. Instead, he barks, trying to convey his need as he rocks his hips from side to side, like a bitch in heat trying to entice you to fuck him. "Woof arf woof woof."

Please owner, I need your cock.

It's pathetic.

But with his face against the cold floor, fluffy ears falling from his brown hair, and your commanding presence kneeling behind him, all Johan could feel was the growing need, his hole opening and closing, so, so close to begging.

"My sweet pup," you murmur, hands closing around his slim waist, thick cock brushing against his entrance. Johan bites his lower lip, pushing it back. Disobedient. But you don't punish him, just laugh, enjoying his latent desperation.

An owner as complacent as cruel you were.

"My perfect bitch." You're sinking into him then, inch after inch filling his empty insides. Johan feels the penetration into every vertebra of his spine. His thighs tremble. Even without needing to look, he feels you making space inside him, rearranging his insides to the point where he can barely breathe. Impossible deep inside. The mere thought makes him gasp.

You dragged a reverent hand over Johan's trembling abdomen, tracing the outline of you beneath the skin. The unmistakeable bulge where your cock stretched him obscenely wide. "Look at my good pup, so full you’re showing it." Then you pull back, before going back inside, casually pounding him, gradually increasing the pace, knowing exactly how to fuck him raw. Hand still there, feeling where your cock pushes inside him.

You're everywhere — inside him, against his back, legs against his thighs, hands all over his body, pulling on the leash, squeezing the visible bulge in his stomach every time you move.

He was never as full as when you filled him.

Johan doesn't realize he's drifted away from reality until your voice teases in his ear, one of your hands patting the side of his hip. As if calming down an animal. "You're drooling all over the floor, does it feel so good to finally be put in your place? My pretty puppy's belly so stretched for his owner it's made him soft and mindless, hasn’t it?"

He nods, or tries to.

His body no longer obeys, surrendered to the oppression of being completely filled, the firm weight of the leather around his neck, your hands on him.

Then you rock your hips. Your balls slap against his ass and your cock pushes in deep. There's not enough lube to soften the invasion and he feels the burn, the hot friction of your cock sinking through the tightness. In, out. In, out. In, in, in.

Johan is not only drooling on the floor, but also leaking copious amounts of pre-cum. His body is on fire. Hips shaking violently as he tries to keep the heat in his stomach under control.

Then he hears you spit before your cock comes back in, just a little wetter and slicker and he groans like a filthy mutt, loudly, eyes rolling back in his skull.

He knows, and so do you, that he could come that easily, just from your words and the collar around his neck, pulling until it cuts off his oxygen. Your member threatening to reach his lungs. It's scary, letting someone have that much power over him. But Johan doesn't fight or try to touch himself; you'll take care of him, always have. All he wanted was to be good for you, orgasm was a bonus, not the goal.

"You’re panting like you’re in heat. So stuffed, you can’t even whimper right," you murmur, the chain vibrating as you wrap it further around your fingers and pull. "Gotta take good care of my bitch, right? Breed well so she doesn't go looking for another dick. I'll be sure to fill you up good today."