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Hi, I don't know, but it made me want a threesome with Bernat and Tim(I've always been in love with these two). With a dominant reader.
It is known (as far as I know) that Bernat does not know Tim's secret identity, therefore Reder does not know either.
Sorry if I'm not clear. I don't speak English. I can be anonymous 🧸?
♡ Here With Both Me And You ♡
Warning: Sub/Bottom characters, Dom/Top AMAB no pronouned reader, anal penetration, creampie, phone sex (bathroom jerkoff), established relationship. No use of (y/n)
Note: Hi 🧸 anon!!
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With Tim busy...doing whatever it is he does during most of the day and night, you and Bernard have pretty much the same schedule as you always did even before meeting him. Being roommates and all made that easy. Bernard makes breakfast, you fix lunch. In between you head out shopping or go for a walk. A movie is thrown on during dinner that you both cook together...and then it's time to absolutely destroy your boyfriends ass.
"Ah, hah, ah, fuck, fuck me, fuck me," The blonde gasped, drooling into his pillow while you pounded into him with vigor. His back could not be further arched, stomach practically coiled up against the sheets with his ass glued to your pelvis. Knees curled up beside him for support. "So good, you're so good to me baby."
You fill him so well, so right. Bernard wishes every day could be like this. The only thing missing is...well, he's always been a bit greedy. Why would he settle for one cock when he could have two? "[name], honey, call, c-call Timmy. Mh, wanna hear him too." The stretch to the bedside table makes you huff, and under you Bernard whines at how much deeper your tip protrudes with it. You don't warn Tim before you ring, knowing that if you did he wouldn't answer you at all. The first call falls through, and the second nearly does too before he does indeed pick up. "Yeah?"
"Timmy! Baby, I miss you!" Bernard moans exaggeratingly the second you put the call on speaker. On the other end you hear the phone drop, fumble, and Tim curse. "Bernard! [name]! Seriously? This is what I stepped out of my meeting for?" He hisses.
After exchanging knowing looks, you place the phones speaker right beside Bernard's hips, slotting in and out of him at a hard wet pace. The two of you moan and groan, high, obnoxious, annoying. Distantly, you can hear Tim murmur a 'damn it...'
By the time you get the phone back up to your ear, Tim is somewhere else, assumably undoing his belt if the clattering is anything to go off of. "Fuckin' horn dogs, the both of you. I swear, always teasing me. If it's not nudes, a video, or a voice note, it's this."
"Ah, are you touching yourself baby? Mh, ah, sad you're missing out?" Bernard wiggles his hips back against you. "Missing [name]'s sweet cock? Yeah, bet you are."
"You sound like a whore, babe." Bernard snickers right back. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you? Mh, mh, ah, Mr. Gotham elite?"
Their blabbering fades the harsher you whip the blonde before you into better shape. Twisting a fistful of his locks for better aim at his prostate. Trust you, it helps. "Fuck, fuck, ah, [name]!"
"What is it...hah, what do you have him in, huh? What position?" Tim breathes, hot and heavy into his end of the phone. You let his imagination wander before you describe it. The flush of Bernard's and sweaty back, the dimples of his lower cheeks squeezing with every press you force in between them, the grip he has on your cock..."Fuck,"
"Ah, when are you coming home?" Bernard groans over his shoulder. "I'm just supervising now, I can go whenever I want." Tim scoffs over the sound of him fisting his own cock. "Then why don't you?" You can practically hear the exasperation in his own world. "Because, baby, I have responsibilities regardless."
"That's stupid."
"You're stupid."
"At least-ah! At least I'm the one at home with, with, with [name]! You wish you were me," The blonde pants, loosing himself in the pleasure. "And you're the one who called, just, mh, shut up and put on a good show for me. Worth my while for getting in trouble for ditching this meeting." You can definitely do that.
"Yes! God, yes, yes, yes-" Squeals Bernard as you hoist him upwards off the bed some, his hands twist and curl at the bed by his side. Both simultaneously digging for purchase and more of your touch. "Make me cum, oh I wanna cum," Every shift of your hips against his own nudges his cock harder into the bed. The friction's delicious. "Cum...! Cumming!"
Tim's moan across the way is almost more audible than your own boyfriends climax. Sperm shoots out under you, wetting the top of your knees. Your own high isn't far behind Bernard's, and before long the blonde is pumped full of your load. The melody of your aftermath is enough to do the same for Tim. The gentle spurts splattering against the ceramic bowl an echo of your own.
"...shit...fuck you guys, I'm finishing up work and coming over."
the next game night arrives, anticipation thick in the air before your friends even cross the threshold. your house husband is his usual radiant self—he greets everyone sweetly, cheeks pink, voice gentle as he refills drinks and offers snacks as he did last time, that much hasn't changed, but his eyes keep flicking to you, nervous and needy, waiting for your signal. the others watch him with barely disguised hunger: the way his thighs peek out, the marks you left last time still faintly visible, the way he always seems slightly out of breath around you.
the games are a tease, an ill hidden guise. you sit beside him and let your hand drift under the table, stroking slow circles into his thigh, feeling him tense and tremble. he tries to keep his composure, but you know how easily he unravels—he bites his lip, his chest rises and falls too fast, and his legs spread just a little wider when you push your palm higher. your friends notice. one of them catches your eye, smirking, shifting a little in his seat as he watches the show begin.
when the right moment comes, you rise and take your house husband’s hand, leading him to the center of the room. you hoist him up onto the game table—the board and cards scattering—and press him down so his chest and stomach are flush against the cool surface, your weight at his back, pinning him in place. his cheek is pressed to the table, his breath fogging the wood as he pants for you, the hard edge digging into his hips and making his ass jut out, perfectly presented.
with one hand, you grab his thigh and lift his leg up, draping it over your shoulder, holding him open and off-balance, exposed for the whole room to see. the other leg dangles over the edge, twitching with anticipation. the room goes silent, every gaze fixed on the two of you. you let your hands wander, pushing his shirt up to bunch around his ribs, revealing the soft skin of his belly and the vulnerable dip of his waist. lastly, (and most importantly) you tug the shorts down. he’s not wearing anything under them. you should have known really.
baring him completely, and the collective gasp from your friends is almost as satisfying as the shudder that runs through his body as the cold air hits his pussy.
you grip his chin, forcing him to meet your eyes, and then tilt his face so he must look directly at the crowd. “eyes up, baby. let them see you,” you whisper loud enough for the room.
he whimpers, but obeys, as always, holding your gaze at first, then glancing at the audience—his lips parted, eyes wide, thighs shaking with nerves and arousal. you slide your fingers between his legs, you’re well practiced, spreading him open, letting the others see how flushed and wet he is. obviously, they're not seeing enough of it within their own homes.
your thumb circles his clit, making him gasp, every sound echoing in the breathless room.
“open wider,” you murmur, and he does, exposing everything: the slick gleam, the flutter of his entrance, the way his body aches for you.
you press inside him with two fingers; your fingers met with no resistance. it’s an easy glide. making a show—slow, deep thrusts, curling your fingers just enough to make him gasp and shiver. you had seen these reactions countless times, so not knowing his sensitivities would've been more embarrassing.
his voice rises, breaking into wet, desperate little cries each time you push deeper, each thrust wringing another helpless moan or whimper from his throat. the room is filled with the slick, obscene noise of your fingers working him open, but layered over it are his breathy sobs and the high, keening sounds that escape him without restraint. he’s not as shy as before, that much is evident.
he can't keep quiet—every stroke drags out another needy, trembling sound, sometimes a sharp yelp, sometimes a drawn-out, wavering moan that cracks at the end. his hips jerk up into you with every movement, thighs twitching, the muscles trembling with effort. he’s getting impatient.
you keep your grip firm on his chin, not letting him look away from the friends watching every move. “let them see your face when you come,” you command, voice low and rough, and he whimpers in response, eyes wide and glistening.
you work him open until he’s writhing, voice cracking as he begs for more. then, with one hand splayed across the small of his back to hold him steady, you line yourself up, the head of your cock pressed firmly against his slick, fluttering entrance. you grind against him for just a moment, letting the room watch the way his hips cant back, desperate for more friction, the tip of your cock teasing his wet folds, catching on the trembling rim. it’s instinctual to him by now.
then, with a slow, unforgiving push, you sink inside, inch by inch, letting everyone see as his body yields to you—his walls clenching and rippling, stretching to accommodate your girth. the sight is obscenely intimate: the way he gasps, back arching, fingers scrabbling at the edge of the table for purchase, his leg still draped over your shoulder, keeping him open and vulnerable. you bottom out with a deep, satisfied groan, the heat and pressure of his cunt sucking you deeper, and the whole room can see how you fill him completely. he whimpers, body shuddering, the table creaking beneath both of you.
there’s a collective, hungry sigh from the crowd as they watch you pause, buried to the hilt, savoring the way he squeezes around you. you grind your hips, making sure he feels every inch, letting the audience see the way his body tries to pull you even deeper, desperate to be claimed.
his head falls back, but you tug his hair gently, forcing him to meet your gaze and the audience’s at the same time. your friends are silent—some biting their lips, some openly palming themselves under the table, all of them transfixed by the display.
each thrust is hard, slow, deliberate—your hips slamming into his ass, the slap of flesh echoing through the room. the table rocks beneath the force, his body forced forward with every push, the hard edge biting into his hips and ribs until he’s breathless from the impact.
you grip his waist with one hand, fingers digging into the pliant flesh as you pull him back into you, making him take every brutal inch. his leg, still hooked over your shoulder, bounces with the rhythm, the muscles flexing and trembling as you use your leverage to angle him just right. with each calculated thrust, you angle your hips to grind the thick head of your cock up against that hypersensitive spot he loves deep inside him.
every time you hit it, his entire body jolts—his breath catching in a strangled, broken moan, fingers scrabbling for purchase as his pussy clamps around you. you can feel him convulse, his inner walls fluttering wildly each time you bear down against that swollen patch of nerves, making sure your cock presses and drags along it with every stroke. the other leg dangles uselessly, toes curling and scraping against the table’s edge. each time you drive in, your pelvis grinds against his ass, forcing him flat and open, so the audience can see the way your cock disappears inside him, how his body yields, stretched tight and glistening. his knuckles go white as he claws anything to hold onto, arms straining as he’s rocked back and forth. you murmur praise and filth in his ear, teeth scraping his earlobe, telling him how beautiful he is, how lucky you are, how desperate he looks with his legs spread and his pussy dripping, on display for everyone.
when he finally breaks, the climax rips through him with raw, helpless intensity. the sounds he makes are frantic, unrestrained—ragged sobs and high, broken wails that pierce the air, his voice cracking on every breath. his cunt clenches and pulses around your cock, milking you, the wet heat spasming as you hold him in place. slick gushes out, dripping down his thighs and pooling on the table beneath him, glistening in the harsh light for all to see. his entire body arches and twists, chest pressed flat to the table, ass high, leg trembling on your shoulder as you thrust deep and hold, forcing him to take every inch. he’s done this hundreds of times so you expect no less.
you grip his hair and keep his head turned, so everyone witnesses his tears running down flushed cheeks, his mouth wide in a silent, shattered scream that tapers into a series of hiccuping gasps and soft, whimpering pleas, as you grind your hips, making sure he feels the fullness, the stretch, the way you fill him so completely.
you don’t let up until he’s left shaking, ruined and perfect, utterly surrendered—yours alone with your cum fucked deep inside his cunt, spilling from the sides, claimed in front of everyone, the image burned into their minds forever. but the scene doesn’t end there. from the corner of your eye, you catch your friends utterly lost in the spectacle—one with his hand shoved deep into his pants, stroking himself hard and fast beneath the table, another openly palming their bulge, hips grinding against their hand as they watch, transfixed. there’s the wet, stuttering gasp of someone coming, unable to hold back as their hand works furiously, thighs trembling as they bite down on a knuckle to keep quiet, eyes locked on the way you’ve ruined him and how they wished they were buried in him instead. not that you’d ever allow that. you took your vows after all. “to have to hold from this day forward.” you don’t take them lightly.
someone else is even bolder, letting out a desperate moan as they spill across their own stomach, their gaze never leaving the place where your cock disappears inside him, where every thrust and tremor is on display. the air is thick with the musky smell of sex, sharp and undeniable—your friends finding their own release, cum staining their hands, thighs, even the table, some slumped back in their seats panting, others still working themselves through aftershocks, all utterly wrecked by the show you’ve given them.
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He's so pretty when he cries... Gender-Neutral, Verse 18+
His heart was just too big for his body, and he was by no means ashamed of his emotions. His disgust showed in scrunched noses, furrowed brow and slight frowns. His anger in squinted eyes, flushed face and silence. His happiness appears in short bursts, flailing hands and big smiles, bitten lips and rapid kisses. But when he cries,
oh boy.
His eyelashes flutter, sending droplets cascading down his cheek. Your clothes get damp where he had his face pressed into your ribs. His hands are warm and pathetic against your waist as he shakes against your stomach. You don't ask what happened, you have to remove his glasses. You run your hand through his messy hair, scratch lightly at his scalp until his silent tears turn into little sniffles. Then he snakes his way up your body until he has encased you in his firm arms. He burrows into the dip of your neck, snuggling deeper like a cat searching for the dark, warm, and comfortable. You ignore the wetness of your clothes. You ignore the lips trembling at your neck, and you try to ignore how good he sounds.
He whimpers. He tilts his head up as you drag your tongue up his Adam's apple and nibble at his jaw. You kiss him as a way to sooth his distress, his lips trembling as he tries to kiss you back. He pulls away with a mellow, and you lick the salt off his cheeks.
His face a blotchy red mess. His eyes flicker up to you then back down at his hand around his cock, stuck between acknowledging the intensity of your gaze and the vulgarity of his actions. His eyes squeeze shut, his nose burns. Droplets of salt join the cum on his hands.
He sniffles as you wipe your thumb across his cheek, rubbing the indentation from his glasses on his nose bridge smearing the wetness in an attempt to dry it. His eyes stare at you with such vulnerability. They're squinted with emotion; they must burn with how they glisten and whine.
You think yourself sick with how fast your chest aches with need. You can't help how your eyes track his wet, pouty lips, and you don't fight against the urge to catch them in between your teeth. He shudders, hesitant in kissing you back. You have to pry open his mouth with your thumb, hunting down his skittish tongue. He sobs in your mouth. You know that's not what he needs, and you know you're going to hell for how little you care.
He whines when he enters you for the first time. He's big where he's propped himself above you, his arms firm but trembling. He thrusts, uncoordinated and hard. A sob drips from his throat; his glasses slide down his nose, stopping tears from landing on your face. You cry out too when he drops down to rest on your shoulders, he pistols inside you like he's trying to make himself at home. He listens to the wet slap of his balls against the small fat of your ass; he hears your hiccups for breath and drowning moans and feels your erratic pulse against his lips. You listen to the sobs and apologies that pour from his mouth, breathless and trying to be full. Cumming and flooding you with all his love.
He cries out when you enter him. His lips parted, his tongue rests lazy in his mouth, drool seeping past the corners of his bitten lips. His arms are wrapped tight around your neck, nails digging trenches from your back to your shoulders, then your shoulders to your arms. You hold him up against the wall, it digs into his back. Your hands are like claws on his thighs, keeping him up as you ease into him. You can feel the lube push around the head of your cock and drip down your length. He cries in your ear, he nibbles at your shoulder to muffle them. You jerk at the sting, he has to swallow a hiccup. The more you are inside him, the more restless he becomes. He writhes in your grip, his toes curling behind your back. His cheek rubs against yours, it stains with his tears. Anything you say just slips out between the crevices of his brain.
Imagine all the noise he makes when you start moving. They're needy, coaxing and constant, then sharp and few.
-> Ryland Grace, Steven Grant, Izuku Midoriya, Jimmy Novak, Raj Koothrappali, Mark Grayson, Armin Arlet, ...
[Read the tags first, read the tags first, read the tags first!!!! This is DDDNE, TABOO DARK CONTENT!!]
John Price settled into his armchair, whiskey already half gone, the portal pussy balanced on his lap. He turned it over once in his hands. He’d found it on his Sergeant’s desk earlier in the day, out in the open. No note, no pretense, just… there.
He ran his tongue over his teeth.
She’d been watching him for months. He wasn’t blind. The way her eyes dropped when he caught her staring, the flush that crept up her neck every time he leaned too close checking her work. Shy little thing didn’t have the nerve to say it outright, so she’d said it like this.
And who was he to leave a gift unopened?
His fingers traced the outer seam of her lips, parting them slow. Her cunt responding instantly, slickness welling, clit swelling under his thumb as he circled it. Her cunt clenched and fluttered and he could practically see her squeezing her thighs shut, unable to stop the pleasure.
“Been waiting for this, haven’t you, sergeant?” he rumbled, pushing one thick finger inside. Christ, she was tight. The walls clenched around him hot and velvety, fluttering desperately. He added a second finger, scissoring gently, stretching her while his thumb kept working the clit. More wetness coated his hand. He tasted it- sweet, rain slick.
Price freed his heavy cock, already rock hard and leaking. He rubbed the thick head up and down her folds, teasing the entrance, slapping the clit lightly until her cunt pulsed and leaked even more. Then he pushed in.
Slow. Inch by thick inch.
Then resistance.
Not tightness… he knew tightness. This was something else. Something that didn’t give until it gave, a faint catch and release.
Price went still.
His breath came out slow through his nose. The glass of whiskey sat forgotten, ice shifting. His brain turned the information over.
Virgin.
She was a fucking virgin, and he was already halfway inside her.
Something should have stopped there. Some wire in the back of his skull should have tripped. Instead, what moved through him was darker than guilt and hungrier than surprise, a heat that started low in his gut and climbed his spine like a lit fuse.
“Fuck,” he breathed. Then, quieter, almost reverent: “Didn’t know you were saving yourself for me, love.”
He sank the rest of the way in. Held there. Let her feel every inch, groaning as her walls spasmed wildly around his cock.
He didn’t hold back after that.
Price fucked her properly, long, deep strokes that had her cunt clenching and gushing around him. He played with her for hours: pulling out to eat her out, tongue fucking the cum filled hole while sucking on her swollen clit. Fingering her through orgasm after orgasm. Using her like a fleshlight, pounding hard while he lounged back with his whiskey, then slowing down to savor every flutter.
He flipped the cunt, took her from behind, held her open and watched his thick cock stretch her virgin pussy again, again.
Every time she came, her cunt would pulse and squeeze him like a vice, milking him until he filled her with load after load.
All night he kept at it, teasing edges, making her edge for him, then denying and rewarding in equal measure. By the time dawn crept in, the portal was puffy, dripping with his cum, still twitching from overuse.
He wasn’t done.
Morning came with the click of the kettle and the drag of a chair across tile. Price slid back inside her cunt with his first sip of coffee, settled deep with a groan that was more satisfaction than effort. He sat at the table with her wrapped around him like a second skin. Phone in one hand. The other tracing slow, lazy circles over her poor oversensitive clit.
The warm, cum soaked cunt fluttered around his shaft, occasionally clenching. He exhaled through his nose. Scrolled another message.
His phone buzzed. Her name on the screen.
Calling out sick.
He didn’t answer. Just locked the phone. Let out a low, rumbling chuckle. Rolled his hips once, slow, and felt her seize around him like a fist.
“Atta girl,” he said into the rim of his mug. Steam curled between his teeth. “Take the day off. Captain’s got you nice and full.”
Vs
You, who smiled your way past security because everyone on base knows Captain Price’s little girl. Who dropped your portal on the desk second from the left- Ghost’s desk, you were certain, you’d counted- and slipped out before anyone saw.
Which seems to have worked well in your favor. Considering you’re so sure Ghost has been fucking you all night and now cockwarming you all this morning.
jumping on the portal sex bandwagon. ft. portal penis with Kyle who used to be your bully in secondary school and now he's just begging for your attention.
you don't want to fuck him. in fact, you want absolutely nothing to do with him. but you lowkey want revenge on Kyle for tormenting you back when he had no business being that mean to a teenage girl who didn't do shit to him.
so you tag him with the portal. best part is he isn't aware of it.
and you take your time making him squirm.
next time you see him sitting with a couple of your friends at that corner cafe, he's as rigid as a statue. unlike many times before when you ignore him, he's shocked as you sit down at the table and smile and say hi to him.
because this time you know you left your vibrator on high touching the very tip of the dildo connected to his cock.
you carry a conversation with your friends and watch as they try to include him. it's hard to restrain a smile when he keeps his answers clipped and short, when he takes heavy breaths and when his hands tremble as he picks up his cup of ice tea when your friends aren't looking.
you do have to admire his restraint because he hasn't cum by now. yet you know what he's getting up to when he politely excuses himself to the restroom.
when you finally go home hours later, you put him out of his misery and turn off the vibrator. by then, the dildo has already spurted out ropes of cum all over the place and it makes you cackle. but then... you get the wicked idea to give it a little squeeze. which makes it throb in your hand and oh you almost want to put it in your pussy right then and there.
Hiiii, I was wondering if you could write more of Tim Drake with a male reader? I always get embarrassed for asking because I never know what to really ask for 😭, but I was wondering if it can be something freaky...like REALLY freaky? I love how you write him, and I couldn't help but ask for more ❤️
❣︎ I Say Walking Extremely Close Behind ♡⸝⸝
Warning: Implied Sub/Bottom character, Implied Dom/Top reader, AMAB no-pronouned reader, stalking, technically noncon but implied Tim does this a lot and implied (mean) reader is okay with it, handjob, anal fingering, established relationship. No use of (y/n)
Note: Wrote up one of my other drafts, 'Tim enrichment, pretending not to know he’s jerking off in the closet watching you' cause I couldn't think of anything else at the moment. Thank you!!
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Tim is a good guy; not only does he know it, but he tries his absolute best day in and day out to prove it. To be deserving of the mantle he dawns, deserving of the family he's integrated himself into. The praise, the resources, the lavish lifestyle. He's a Drake and now a Wayne too. There's always so much on the line.
That's never stopped him from being the most debauched, disgusting pervert you've ever met in your entire fucking life, though.
Tim acts as if he's a horribly depraved man, and in a way, he sort of is (that's what emotional repression does to a person), but nothing that should ever lead him to the lengths he goes to. Tim is just...like that.
So when tensions are high, and he shouldn't be doing anything other than kicking his feet up in a relaxing bubble bath, your boyfriend settles down behind the closed door of your closet and waits. There's a dizzying flush already creeping up his cheeks, and you aren't even home yet. Man, he's such a loser.
He imagines you catching him, glaring down at him in utter disgust and betrayal as he drools over himself at your feet. You're always so beautiful like that, it makes his cock strain like nothing else. The way you spit with venom when you're angry, irritated, cranky. If Tim were more of a brat, he'd double his efforts in his limited free time into pissing you off just for the sake of it. All the horrible things you could do and say to him. Ah...just imagining your creative endeavors has him half-chub.
When you finally arrive home, the jingle of your keys ringing out through the apartment, Tim nearly squeals in excitement. He's not so easily deterred, however, and stealthily keeps his cool as you move about towards your room. Even the soft thumps of your steps against the hard wood feel erotic like this.
Tim's mouth waters upon your entry. Raw, unpolished, off guard. Your face is passive and limbs heavy from another long day at work. Oh, how he longs to bury his cheek against the grease of your dirty hair, press his nose under all the sweaty crevices, and massage you lax as a good boyfriend does. Instead, Tim remains in place. Peering out at you with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, fighting back a small grin.
He watches as you move about, distracted, your attention mostly glued to your phone. Any accessories you've adorned are thrown carelessly across your desk before you hit your bed with a heavy groan. Legs spread as you get comfortable on your back. Jesus, do you even know what you do to him? Teasing him like that.
Tim can imagine himself crawling out and up between them with ease. Sniffing at your soft bulge and wetting your boxers through with only his tongue. You, ignoring him as he whines and laps at your veiny cock. Always so perfectly disinterested. You're so hot!
Being the expert stalking pervert that he is, there's no clinking belt to get in Tim's way as he feels over his own length through his biker shorts. God, he missed this, just watching people whilst they're none the wiser. For pleasure and not patrol. He's free to rely on his damn good memory instead of obsessively taking notes and recording for investigations. Though there are several cameras about the place...later, he scolds himself.
Tim begins to jerk himself off to your simple existence. You're not even doing anything, and it's just so damn sexy, he can't help himself. He's thankful for the small audios you scroll past to hide the gentle wet slick of his strokes, just loud enough to buffer the silence between.
The way you're sprawled out exposes some of the skin that would usually be covered, and in the privacy of your own home, you have no care to correct it. Tim can glimpse the band of your underwear from just under your bottoms, one uncovered ankle where your sock had ridden down, and a bit of your shoulder too. All normal, all deliciously human, all perfectly you.
His own hand around his cock surfaces, but it isn't nearly enough to settle the waves of arousal stirring in his mind. He wants to use you so bad, grind out on your thigh, fuck your mouth wide open, and be used wholly in return. Thrown around like a rag doll. Your foot over his cock, beating his fat red, edging him until he practically explodes.
Fuck.
It feels too good, Tim's hips chase the wet cavern he balls his fists into, likewise reaching back to prod at his hole. He's sweating hard, mostly from excitement alone, so the slide in isn't terrible. Tim's eyes roll back in a silent moan as he's stimulated from both ends. Shit shit shit-
The splatter of his cum hitting the back of your closet door isn't silent; his groan echoes out the second he lets it slip, and he can feel your pause without having to look. He isn't scared as you sit up, when you stand, nor when you approach. With a messy hand, he fixes his bangs right as you hover over the door.
synopsis . In which it takes a total of sixty nine days of living with Choso for the two of you to realize you’re both terribly down bad for one another. He’d been crushing on you hard (pun intended) from the day you moved in with him, and while living with you is easy, being around you almost all day every day like this is turning him into someone he can't recognize. So much so that you should be concerned. Except, you're not?
content . afab!reader, perv x perv, filth, dirty talk, virgin!choso, dub-con (considering all the perversion), switch dynamics, porn w no plot, choso’s down bad but so is reader, pet names, lots of dry humping/humping in general, he watches a lot of porn, loser!cho, awkwardness, embarrassment, premature ejec (he cums a lot), creampies, implied breeding kink, panty sniffing/stealing, getting caught, reader makes him suck a copy of his own dick, possessiveness, manhandling, scent kink(?), oral sex (f!receiving), he's literally disgusting, missionary, he calls reader mommy on “accident” a few times, eventual rough sex, etc.
word count . 11k || author's note: mostly based on this drabble & the many requests i got for this!! banner art from “Lady K and the Sick Man”
Day Two: The Phone Incident.
Choso should’ve known how severely fucked he was from the moment he got hard after handing you your phone.
And yes, that is as crazy as it sounds.
You didn’t even notice it—as you were much too busy trying to get to some phone call—but this was the first time in a whopping forty-eight hours of living with you that Choso had experienced this kinda thing.
Something about holding a device of which your fingers spent the majority of the day wrapped around drove him crazy. Perhaps it was the indirect touch, or the fact that his hand faintly smelled like yours afterwards, but either way—he felt a sudden twitch in his pants that he just couldn’t ignore.
He’d accepted the fact that he was attracted to you when you moved in, but this?
This was absurd. Surely his body wouldn’t continue to react like this around you… right?
After handing you your device, Choso turned away all awkwardly and calmly excused himself into his room for the night. This left you to watch him walk away with slightly confused eyes as you carried on with your call, shrugging off his sudden stiffness and figuring it was nothing too serious.
Which, in a way, it wasn't. The man nearly needed a moment away from you.
A moment long enough to take care of the leaking problem in his pants, that is.
As soon as he enters his room, he lightly shuts the door and lets his head push against it with a soft thump. One hand remains on the doorknob whilst the other is just barely keeping his body standing upright. It was like a switch had gone off in his head or something.
It hasn't even been a week with you yet and there's already one thing running rampant in his mind—sex.
Choso's known you for quite some time now, which is exactly why you moving in with him when he already had a spare bedroom only made sense. But to already be losing his head over something so small makes him feel shamed with the weight of guilt.
He shouldn't touch himself. He should ignore how hard he is right now. And should definitely not think about you if he does decide to act against those two things.
...Yeah, that goes straight out the window the moment he hears you laughing from the living room.
You're still on the phone and you'd have no reason to come into his room and check on him or anything so it should be okay, no? Getting off to you once won't hurt anyone.
Clasping his bottom lip neatly in between his teeth, Choso finally moves a hand down over the fully formed bulge poking out against his sweatpants. Maybe he won't even jerk off. Maybe he'll just rub at his cock until he cums.
That should be fine.
Right?
His hand carefully cups 'n grabs at the outline of his hard shaft, his bottom lip falling loose with a moderately noisy pant breaking free from his throat. "Fuck," Choso sears just under his breath as he squeezes his eyes shut.
He shouldn't be doing this. This is wrong. You just moved in!
His hand slides over slowly, letting the friction of fabric and his palm soothe his aching arousal just a bit.
What would you think if you saw him right now? You're only a few steps away from his door, sitting all pretty in his living room. Would you be disgusted by him if you knew how he rubbed his hand against his dick to the mere thought of you? Taking his other hand—the same one that held your phone and now carries the faintest bit of your scent—and slowly bringing it up to his nose to smell.
His palm reeks in your lotion. You must've used it recently, huh? Probably right before touching your phone for the last time, he thinks.
Choso's other hand squeezes around the head of his dick, feeling something nasty beginning to wet up his boxers. Fuck, he feels gross for doing this. He's all hunched up against his bedroom door, body flinching whenever he hears your voice a little clearer from beyond it, and cock jumping with each whiff he takes of his palm.
His mouth flails open a little and he nearly whines as his hand grips at his length a little tighter, slithering towards his shaft, and then letting his hips roll forward. The hand pressed up to his nose slips down to clasp over his mouth to conceal that pathetic sound, only worsening his situation as he realizes this means the smell of your lotion is practically smushed up to his lips now.
Choso feels his knees going weak all of a sudden and can't even help himself as he ditches the teasing rubbing and finally stuffs his hand down into his pants. His cock meets his hand raw with a throbbing heat he hadn't been expecting.
Quickly, before he starts letting out sounds too loud to conceal, he does his best to work himself up to an orgasm. Because of his hasty movements, it's not long before his hand is cramping up and he's jerkily thrusting his dick into his coiled fingers.
"A-Ah," Choso gasps, his lashes fluttering over something wet that'd unknowingly built up against his waterline.
Then there's a sudden knock at his door.
The poor guy nearly falls over, barely managing to grit his teeth and swallow the next array of sounds that threatened to leave him. His eyes stare down at the silhouette of your shadow under the door and he struggles to suppress a groan.
"Hey, I dunno if you're asleep already but," God, you sounded so sweet—how could he be doing this in thought of you? "I just wanted to let you know we're out of trash bags. Tried to text you but it wasn't going through."
Choso's standing here jerking off like some freak after touching something of yours and now you're standing on the other side of his door telling him you guys are out of trash bags?
How comedic.
Not that any of this stops his hand from moving. If anything, his cock feels wetter as he continues on to the sound of each word leaving your lips. Then he presses his face against his door and murmurs, "M-Mhm, thanks for... letting me know. I'll get more t-tomorrow," He grunts out.
Little did he know, his movements had only become smoother because he already came from the moment you knocked on the door. Now his briefs were filled with cum, his hand felt disgustingly sticky, and...
And you have absolutely no idea. You haven't the slightest clue that he just did something wildly perverted in your name.
Or so he thought.
——
Day Fifteen: Missing Hoodies.
A little over two weeks in and Choso's issue has only gotten worse. On the bright side of things, at least he's not the only one slowly losing his sanity in all this.
Because surely if you weren't losing your mind just as much as he was then you'd have moved out by now. Even though he's sure you're not aware of any of the things he's done so far like steal your panties just before laundry day, stuff his nose into your bath towel mere minutes after you've showered, and even use that same lotion of yours to jerk himself off.
But again, Choso is pretty sure that if you knew about any of those things he's done then you would've been out of here faster than you came in. Better yet, faster than he cums whenever you're in mind.
Which is pretty damn fast.
It's on this fifteenth day that Choso loses his first hoodie. It's a plain grey hoodie, but he noticed it's disappearance rather quickly because the last time he wore it was on the day he last spoke to Yuji—and everyone knows how attentive this man gets when it comes to his siblings.
So imagine his surprise when he's tearing his room up trying to find that hoodie to no avail. A small frown takes over his face and he lets out a long sigh before trudging out his room and towards yours.
Knocking thrice, "Are you busy?" Choso asks carefully, ears slightly quirking up at the distant sound of your bedsheets being shuffled about.
Part of him wonders what you were up to.
"If so, don't worry about it," He adds on shortly after. You hadn't even said anything yet and he was already nervous. "I didn't mean to interrupt—"
The door swings open and you're greeting him with your breath seeming as though it's lost it's way into your lungs properly. "You're not interrupting anything, Choso. What's up?" You hum rather sweetly.
"I was just wondering if you'd seen my uh-," He cuts himself short as his eyes helplessly fall downwards. Perhaps he was dreaming or something because surely you're not wearing the very thing he came looking for? Choso's hand draws up as he unintentionally points at your chest, "Is that my hoodie?"
You look down at yourself and then back up at him and shrug, "I dunno, is it?"
Maybe it was the dim hallway lighting but you swear Choso's face is getting redder by the second, a cute hue of pink flushing out over his cheek and noticeable around the dark ink stretching across the bridge of his nose.
Then his hand flies up to the back of his head, scratching beneath his dark, loose locks of hair, "Well, unless we have the same hoodie... m'pretty sure that's mine." He mumbles on.
"Oh." Is the only warning he receives before he watches your hands meet the bottom of that same hoodie, and then lift.
Oh fuck. Choso's eyes widen and all the hairs at the back of his neck seem to stand up as he watches the way you thoughtlessly pull his hoodie off of your body, revealing the very sheer tank-top you have on underneath and the lack of pants below that.
While living with you was easy, truly, there were times like this where Choso wondered if you even saw him as a man. Or if maybe you were just really comfortable around him. Because in what other world would you take off his hoodie right in front of him whilst clad in nothing more than a tank-top and a dark purple pair of panties that he's all too familiar with?
Not that you knew about the last part of that but, still. He's allowed what feels like a minute of staring and drooling before his face is met with that same hoodie of his!
"Was that all?" You ask smoothly, as if you hadn't nearly flashed him and then thrown his own clothes back at him like it was nothing.
His head nods rapidly from beneath his sweatshirt, refusing to move his body just yet in fear of where his hands may find themselves, and waiting until he hears your bedroom door shut again.
As he's left in the hallway to his own devices, Choso's slow to remove the jacket from his head. He holds it out to inspect for a moment and notices a wet patch near the ends of it. His mind immediately goes somewhere dirty.
Did you... use his hoodie how he wants to think you did?
Choso looks back up at your door and gulps. Then his mouth twitches and before he knows it, he’s smiling rather smug-like. If his thoughts are correct then that would mean you got off to how he smells and—he brings his hoodie up to his nose and inhales—luckily for him, the cologne this fabric in particular is doused in, just so happens to be his favorite.
Which is exactly why Choso goes on to make said cologne his only scent.
Following this little act of his is an abundance of his shirts and hoodies going missing. You only got caught wearing them just that one time but, he doesn’t need to see you in his clothes to know you’re the one stealing them.
It’s quite obvious, in his humble opinion. No matter how many times you come to tell him he must’ve lost it or misplaced it somewhere. As if. The man barely leaves the apartment!
And while that’s nothing to brag about, it is undoubtedly the truth.
——
Day Thirty-Four: Indirect Cumshots.
This is where things really start to go from bad, to worse.
The two of you now have a mutual habit of stealing one another’s clothes. You know for sure Choso gets off with your stuff since he mostly takes your panties, skirts, bras, shirts, shorts, and shoelaces?!—all in that order.
What other use for these items could he possibly have if not for sexual satisfaction?
The same questions travels throughout Choso’s mind whenever he wonders why his shirts, hoodies, and jackets go missing. Except, his only issue with it—outside of it being an inconvenience whenever he needs to dress himself—is that he’s still not fully sure whether or not he’s right about your use for them.
Especially since you’ve worn a few of his clothes around the apartment without a care in the world, blaming it on the mixed laundry whenever asked about it. Naturally he believes you, but he can’t deny the fact that he desperately hopes you’re lying to him.
Just the thought of you having your nose buried into his clothes while your fingers play with the neglected cunt in between your legs, your thighs clenching whenever you get close, and mouth breathing out moans of his name makes Choso’s mind go blank.
He’s never had sex before so he hopes that doesn’t turn you off—wanting nothing more than for it to be you that changes this some day.
Above all that, and back to this whole clothing fiasco, Choso has found another way to satisfy his doubts.
In the event that you really weren’t taking his clothes to fuck yourself in, he had a backup plan. By this point Choso had accepted the fact that he’d become nothing more than a dirty pervert since you moved in. So much so that he figured if he could jerk off to indirect kisses from you…
…He could indirectly cum on you too.
Now, now, he knows that sounds bad at first. But he swears it’s really not!
It technically started when he accidentally came on one of your blankets.
He’d been in the living room—doing what any perv would do—rubbing his bare cock against the last place in which you’d sat on the couch. You weren’t home so he wasn’t worried at all about getting caught, thrusting his dick all slanted against the cushions, and letting his precum smear sloppily all over where you were sitting.
“Nngh-,” Choso cared little about holding back his sounds whenever you weren’t home, this moment being the most prime example of this.
His hand loosely kept his cock from sliding all over the place, thumb lightly hovering over his base so that he could have some sort of rhythm in his movements.
He was bare naked, whole body flushed from how hot ‘n bothered he found himself. You looked especially pretty that day. He doesn’t even remember where you said you were going but he does remember the glimpse of your panties he got when you got up from the couch and walked over towards the door in that unfairly short skirt of yours.
It was the same black pair he fucked his cockhead against just three days ago and now you were wearing them and you didn’t have the slightest clue. That fabric would be hugging your pussy for hours and you were oblivious to the fact that his cum had been pooling against it not too long ago.
Fuck, the thought drives him straight over the edge, causing him to stumble against the couch as he fists at his dick. Choso tosses his head back and begins to fuck his hand imagining it was you—gushy spurts of cum spilling out from his plump head in varying directions before he even realizes it.
Heavy pants departed from his mouth as he stroked himself through his high and let whimpers exit his throat. By the time he calmed down, he looked below himself to see that he not only came all over your seat—the splatter of his cum mirroring the way it probably would if he ever came on your ass—but he also accidentally shot some of it onto your blanket.
The same blanket you bury your face under whenever you two watch a movie that’s a little too gruesome, the same blanket you cuddle yourself under, and the same blanket that sometimes get smothered in between your thighs whenever you have it hugging your body a certain way.
Choso tilts his head a little and that’s when it hits him. Just like the time you two had shared a water bottle and indirectly kissed… him cumming on your favorite blanket is no different than him cumming on you, right?
His brows meet. Is that bad to think? If he cums on more of your stuff, does that mean he’s always cumming on you?
Has he technically finished inside you since he’s done so inside your panties more times than he can count?
Shit.
It’s from then on that Choso begins to purposefully release a load on things you use all the time. And just as doing this to your blanket has been one of the most perverted things he'd done so far, so was doing the same to your favorite mug.
He just woke up with the fattest tent in his pants that morning, he had to do something about it! And you can’t blame him when he ignored the erection and joined you for breakfast anyway, watching your lips mold themself around the rim of the dish, gulping deeply until the liquid inside was all gone...
Choso barely felt like himself after you left. He rushed into the kitchen and searched the sink for the cup you used, pulling his cock out and letting it slap against the porcelain. He’s sure this is your favorite mug because of how expensive it is so he knew he had to be careful.
Even so, that didn’t stop him from dragging his dick around its edges—right where your lips and tongue had been. After which he spent the next few minutes emptying his balls into the mug until it was a quarter full with his seed.
This was by far the most depraved thing he’d done so far.
Only for that feeling to get worse in his chest when he watched you use the same cup the following morning, humming at a slightly different pitch as if a new flavor had been added to your beverage.
He couldn’t bear to meet your eyes afterwards. You basically just drank his cum and you didn’t know.
That’s horrible. You’d totally hate him if—
“Did you buy a new dish soap or something?” Your voice breaks him away from his thoughts of impending guilt.
Choso’s head flies up and his eyes, wide and dopey brown, set on you with that intensive warmth you always enjoy. “Huh?” He gapes.
You grin, “I asked if you bought a new dish soap.” Then you shrug all cheekily, “My mug smells really nice for some reason.”
Yeah, probably because he spent an hour cleaning it after he did something so sinful to it…
Your roommate shakes his head, “No, no, I didn’t buy anything new.” He tells you.
The conversation ends around there as you nod and then return to your breakfast, thinking nothing more of it.
Meanwhile Choso feels guilt in between his legs stirring up again and some weird sense of pride in his chest swelling.
Which is exactly why he doesn’t stop there. Although he always cleans up thoroughly after these indirect cumshots of his—it never fails to fill him with pride when he watches you use the same things he’s soiled.
Forks, spoons, straws—which were hell to clean—your phone while you were sleeping one time, pictures of you, etc. In more ways than one, Choso’s basically marked and claimed you as his own via spilling his seed all over you.
——
Day Forty-Eight: Shame? Never heard of her.
The cumshots were one thing, of course. Starting to see your face in every pornographic video he watches is another. So is lightly stroking himself while sitting right next to you and talking to you about his day.
But fucking your pillow when you’re not home, pretending that it’s you, while playing some random audio of yours in the background? Now that was the final straw.
Choso can't even begin to explain nor understand what exactly has gotten into him.
At least when he'd done all those other nasty things with you in mind, he felt bad directly after the fact—apologizing to you via being extra sweet and kind in ways that'd earn him lovely praises from you in return.
It seems like that's a lost art to him now, though.
The man had walked into your room in search of his headphones, the ones he let you borrow last night and now needs to properly enjoy his porn. He hadn't planned to do anything dirty in your room. No, never.
But when he got in there he was thrown off by you leaving a pair of panties on your bed. Not just any pair though, the red pair.
Now, these panties in particular had a bit of a story to them. Choso knows you only wear them when you go out to hook-up with somebody and if they’re sitting on your bed now, that means you saw someone recently or were planning to.
Either way, he doesn’t really want that to happen.
He hasn’t quite revealed any of his intentions nor feelings to you (or at least he doesn’t think he has), but that doesn’t mean he’s immune to feeling possessive over you. You were his roommate, after all.
Maybe this is why he ends up on your bed, grabbing the pillow you sleep on and hauling it up towards his face for a good sniff. The fumes flow through his nostrils and send a rush of blood straight down to his cock.
Partially because he can smell remnants of his cologne lingering in the cottony fabric, which could only mean one thing—you'd slept in his clothes before. Or something like that, anyway.
Halfway through his pillow sniffing, and with a half-hard cock forming in his pants, he hears his phone chime from within his pocket. The chime in question is one he specifically set for you so he wastes not even a second digging for his phone and pulling it out.
Your contact sits center on his screen as it unlocks, revealing to him a voice message you'd just sent.
Choso gulps.
You've sent him a few voice messages in the past, having felt too lazy to type stuff out, but it never fails to make him nervous before pressing play. And right now was absolutely no different.
"Hey Cho, when you get a chance—hahh, shit." Oh? Do his ears decieve him or was that a breathy pant from you? Rewinding the recording a few seconds, "Hey Cho, when you get a chance—hahh, shit. Sor-," He cuts the voice message off and then follows suit with his phone, turning it over and looking up to the ceiling for the moment.
Did you... have any idea of the things you did to this man?
Tossing the question, he tries again.
"Hey Cho, when you get a chance—hahh, shit." There's a short pause as he hears you taking a deep breath, "Sorry, when you get a chance, can you order takeout from the same place as last week before I get home?"
Takeout, of course. Of course. What else would you have sent him a voice message for?
...Certainly not for what he was about to do with it.
You were out at the gym so that little pant of yours should've been expected but he must've forgotten by the time he played the message. His thumb keeps finding itself repeating the same part of your recording, within the first few seconds when that pant, followed by a sweet curse of exhaustion dares to leave your lips.
It's stupid, really. You made one little noise and said one word he's heard from you a thousand times and yet he's already plopping down on your bed, your pillow still in hand, and his legs slowly spreading out so his poor, hardening cock has room to breathe.
Then Choso saves the message to his phone, not thinking twice as he goes on to edit it within his camera roll so that the few seconds of panting and cursing can replay over and over until he's had his fill of it.
After a good five times of replaying those gorgeous few seconds you'd given him, an idea Choso simply cannot ignore is born.
He doesn't recognize himself at all as he tosses your pillow over, snatches up those panties you had lying around and turns around to hover over the two items.
This is so fucked, and he knows it but it's hard to care. One moment he's starring at the assortment of material he has here and the next, he's got your pillow snug under the fabric of your panties. His thumb traces the edge of it just as it would if you were wearing them, swiping up heavily against the center where your pretty slit would be.
Fuck, he should stop.
His thumb glides back down and he shifts against the mattress, knees digging into the plush of it, and hot breaths tumbling out of his lungs. Then his fingers pinch at each side of your panties before he tugs, cleanly ripping the cloth just enough to create a small hole.
He winces upon doing so, knowing damn well he's getting worse by the second.
Choso pauses for a moment and grabs his phone to open his photos. His thumb swiftly swipes through his camera roll until he finds a picture of you, and along with it, he's managed to have your little panting curse combo playing on repeat.
And that's all he needed because now he's got a hole ripped into your pillow and although it was very cottony wrapping around the head of his dick, he couldn't be bothered to care. His imagination was running rampant and all he could picture was you splayed out beneath him, letting him use your body to strip him of his virginity.
He's so sure of how absolutely warm your pussy would be, despite never being inside one or even setting his eyes on one (in person) before. You'd squeeze him nice 'n tight, wouldn't you? Suck him in deeper even when he knows he can't handle that and tries to pull himself back?
God, he's getting dizzy in his own arousal and his precum is serving as lube inside this stupidly dry pillow of yours. It doesn't even feel good but every time he opens his eyes and sees your panties ripped open, his cock bulging in between where he'd torn them, he cares less and less.
Not to mention how you'll be sleeping on this same pillow soon, so the faster he cums inside of it, the faster he can say he's indirectly spilled his cum on your face.
Which is precisely why his hips are picking up their pace, even as he falls over and ends up having to hold his hunched body up with one very unsteady hand.
"Fuck," The curse falls from his lips in sync with the one that fell from yours in that recording—which is still playing in the background of his misdeeds, by the way. Then his visions suddenly become clearer while his movements grow more janky, eyes journeying to the back of his skull in pure bliss.
He swears he can see you under him right now, feel the pretty walls of your pussy clenching around his cock because it's too big for you to take with the way he's rutting forward right now. You'd tell him to slow down a little, no?
Choso steadies the pace of his pelvis just a faction as he catches his breath, "Gonna cum soon." He whispers to the imaginative version of you he's got underneath him.
How would your hands feel pushing or even pulling at his waist, trying to get him to reach deeper inside you despite his dick being much too big for you? Is it cocky of him to think that?
His bottom lip fwips out a little as he pouts, eyes growing teary from how stimulating this is for him. He's never wanted to fuck someone so badly. All these weeks of teasing and sneaking around to commit the most debauched of acts in your name... when would things come to a breaking point? When would you catch onto the hints he's not even throwing??
Ugh, all these questions leave Choso frustrated. So frustrated that now he's applied all his weight to your pillow, fulling humping his fat cock into the makeshift hole. You'd feel so much better than this stupid pillow but the realization of that does little to stop his fingertips from digging into your sheets as he grits his teeth and then spills his first load into it.
"Fuckfuckfuck-," Choso mutters under his breath as he tugs all his inches back a little before diving them right back in. His seed floods throughout the cottony insides of your cushion, making everything creamy.
He ends up having to bite down on your sheets just to hold back the sounds he begins to let out as he drives himself straight into overstimulation with a lack of halting his movements. You'd let him do this to you, right? Fuck multiple loads into you? Breed you?
Hell, what does Choso—who spends majority of his time thinking and fantasizing about you without ever feeling the sexual touch of a woman—know about breeding?
All these damn questions have had the man so distracted that he never realized how much his hand had bumped into his idle phone screen, having somehow managed to capture all of his past few events—which consisted of him moaning your name out and muttering filthy things he doesn't much understand—on camera.
But, that's not the worst part about all this.
The worst part about all this is that by the time Choso finishes up with properly breeding your pillow, he went to finally swipe his phone up, and in doing so he hit send on everything he just recorded.
Now, bear in mind that you never received any sort of response to your innocent takeout request. So really imagine your shock to hear nearly twenty minutes worth of audio porn from your roommate. Actually, scratch that, imagine how quickly you got wet from opening your text thread with Choso to see a video from him.
Because it wasn't just audio he'd accidentally captured, but an entire production of him fucking your pillow.
Shit.
——
Day Sixty-Nine: The Copy-Cock Incident.
Ever since that day, things have been weird between you and Choso.
You came home and didn't say a word to him, didn't even look at him or acknowledge him, and proceeded to hide away in your room for... the next few days or so.
By the time Choso saw you again, you pretended to be completely normal and made him feel like you'd forgotten all about the video he sent you. In fact, you even talk to him as if he'd never done anything wrong.
Weird.
The man was naturally uneasy around you for every day that followed, feeling his skin crawl with guilt every single time he was in front of you. There was nothing he could do about it either, anytime he tried to bring it up or apologize, you'd shut the conversation down or change the subject. It was almost like you didn't want him to apologize for it.
Does that mean you were silently thanking him for it? Did you perhaps like the video?
Choso's unsure. Like, severely unsure.
If you thought he was nervous and awkward around you before than he's gotten a million times worse after the whole video thing.
But today—the sixty ninth day in which you've been living with him—he's finally given the clearest answer to all his questions. All his awkwardness and shyness flies straight out the window the moment Choso comes home to see you sitting rather weirdly in his designated spot on the couch.
He made small talk with you while grabbing a bottle of water for himself from the kitchen, hearing this notable waver in your voice that he simply couldn't ignore.
What Choso didn't know quite yet was that he'd came home far earlier than you expected him to. So now you were left to maintain casual conversation with him as if there wasn't inches of thick silicone stuffed inside your cunt right now.
"—and they're dropping a sequel too, can you believe it?" Choso's voice reverberates throughout the fine walls of your apartment and your hips squirm slightly.
You don't think he ever noticed it but you always found his voice to be especially sexy. And after you got that video of him fucking your pillow—which you've replayed a concerning amount of times since—you think your attraction to his voice has only worsened.
You never knew someone with a tone that deep could whimper and whine so sweetly. The mere reminiscent thought of it has you lifting your body up an inch or two, before you sink back down onto the dildo you have beneath you.
Then your eyes threaten to close and you nibble on your bottom lip to stop yourself from making any sudden noises.
Clearing your throat instead, "Really? That sounds—"
"Are you okay?" Choso cuts off, having fully entered the living room with you now.
His eyes narrow at you as you make contact with them, watching how he's got a single brow cocked up and one hand at his hip—the other busy drawing his perspiring bottle of water up to his lips. Instead of answering him immediately, you sit there and watch the movement of his mouth for an unhealthy number of seconds.
Choso's lips press against the opening of his water oh-so-effortlessly, his tongue swiping out to capture any liquid that imperils to escape his mouth, and his throat shifting along with each unwavering gulp he takes.
When his mouth detaches from the bottle, your eyes are glued to the small breath he lets out before he tilts his head. Then his hand waves out your way, "Hello?"
You shake out of your little daze and cringe at yourself internally, "Huh? Oh-, yeah, mhm. I-I'm fine."
Choso nods his head slowly as if he definitely does not believe you. Then you see the way his eyes drop down to the blanket concealing your lower half, and his feet move against the floor to carry him over to the empty spot on the couch beside you. "Are you sure? You look a little..." His eyelid lower a fraction and he clears his throat, "Stiff?"
You wanted to move around and reposition yourself to show him that you're totally fine but it was a little difficult to do so when you had a sex toy poking up inside you. "I'm fine, Cho. Don't worry about it," You tell him.
He's entirely unconvinced. After living with you for a little over two months, he can confidently say he knows you and your body language like the back of his hand.
So, he leans back against the couch—eyes still trained on your ever little move—and then rests one of his arms against the backside of it, leaning closer to you. "It's kinda hard not to worry about it when you're looking at me like that."
You blink. "Like what?"
"Like you've been caught doing something wrong," He says with a breathless scoff following, "Did something happen?"
"N-No," You breathe out as quickly as you can.
Choso's gaze gets impossibly firmer on you, "You're lying."
Looking away for a split second, your arms move to fold beneath your chest, "Since when did you become so intuitive?"
"I've always been this intuitive," He tells you.
An uncomfortable beat of silence passes, and unfortunately for you, his talking is not helping your situation right now. Every word that vacates his mouth has you soaking both the item you're sitting on and the couch below it.
"So," His fingers idly drum against the back of the couch, "Are you gonna tell me what's wrong or...?"
You scoff, "Nothing's wrong, Choso."
He waits exactly ten loooong seconds before cracking a smirk, "So move."
"What?" You gasp.
He's still starring at you with the same unconvinced look on his face, "If there's nothing wrong, move."
You wave your arm out in a dismissive gesture before rolling your eyes and turning your head elsewhere, "You're being annoying over nothing."
Choso sizes you up, drinking in every inch of your noticeably rigid frame. "And something's wrong with you but you won't tell me what. Are you in pain? Did you hurt yourself in an embarrassing way? C'mon, if that's the case, I promise I won't make fun of you for it."
God, you hated when he acted like this. Sometimes Choso cared too much for his own good. He almost walked in on you touching yourself one night and wouldn't leave you alone until he set his eyes on your face to make sure you were okay.
You turn your head back towards him and sigh. You knew he knew what was going on here. Otherwise, why would he be pressing you to tell him what you were up to like this?
"You walked in at a bad time, that's all," You admit to him.
Choso's brows scrunch up all cutely, innocence etched into his sight as it softens on you. "What do you mean?"
How the fuck are you supposed to explain that you were in the middle of bouncing up and down a dildo—that's actually a direct copy of his cock—just moments before he walked in, and now the damn thing is nestled inside you??
"Well," You pause, heart racing a mile a minute as he stares you down like you're the only person who's every word has had him on the edge of his very seat. Then you start to fidget with your fingers in your lap and let your eyes drift away, "I was in the middle of something, and—"
You notice his legs spreading apart and his hips rolling up slowly from your peripherals. Before you can even finish, "In the middle of what?" Choso asks.
He knows.
You look at his face, and the way he's staring at you now is enough to make the heat pooling below get impossibly hotter. You can't help but squeeze your legs together, which causes the cock inside you to slip deeper.
Then your face twists up in reaction before you can help it and Choso watches the entire thing—not missing the movement in your thighs, the breathy moan you let out, and the way your fingers curl into the blanket you have neatly clutched over your body.
Oh.
Choso drags his slightly salivating tongue over his lips to wet them and then releases a short, unnerved chuckle. "I interrupted you, huh?" He asks rhetorically, voice husking a pitch deeper.
You nod your head, aching to move your body to satisfy yourself again.
"Are you embarrassed?" He goes on, trying his hardest not to move his legs out of fear you'll finally notice the boner he's been sporting this entire time.
"O-Obviously," You stammer, "But, I don't wanna talk about it. Just—"
"Don't talk then," He huffs, feeling something starved resting all thickly against the tip of his tongue. "And don't let me stop you."
Your breath tangles, "What?"
His eyes glide up and down your body thrice—seamlessly undressing you through those desperately blown-out pupils of his. "...You were playing with yourself, right?" He questions lowly.
"Something like that, yeah,” You reply.
A singular moment passes between you two before he finally says fuck it and looks at your face, "Can I watch?"
Your cunt involuntarily clenches around the dildo and you squirm, "Choso, I..."
He gives you a surprisingly calm, reassuring smile, “You know you can say no, ri—"
"I know that!" You huff, turning away as your face burns from the heat of embarrassment.
Then, without giving him a vocal answer, you finally shift around in your seat. He watches as you lean back against the corner-part of the couch and move your hand to the blankets edge before lifting it.
The first thing he notices as the cover is removed is that you're in his hoodie—the one he just wore yesterday!
You slouch your body a bit and move the blanket to the side as you slip from sitting to laying back, peeling your legs apart nice ‘n wide to give him the most sinful display of that dildo sliding a few inches out of you. Then your hand reaches down to make contact with the base of it and you bite your lip before languidly pulling it out of you.
Your pussy lips hug the silicone neatly whilst it schlicks its way out of your hole and you release a breath you weren’t aware you’d been holding in. There’s a droopy string of your slick dangling from in between the dildo’s glossy tip and your pulsing entrance—all of which Choso’s is left to peer at.
You redirect the toy’s weighty tip towards your clit and roll it around slowly before tossing your head back a little and sighing in relief.
"Ohgod-," Your roommate chokes into the palm he’d slapped over his mouth all of a sudden.
His body jolts and his other fingertips dip and grind into the couch as he tries to steady himself, holding on so tight that the veins trailing his arms begin to protrude out against his muscular arms. Something in between a throaty grunt and a whine had been ripped out of his throat.
You look over at him from beneath your lashes before batting them, "Are you okay? You're the one who wanted to watch..."
He nods shortly, mumbling, "M-Mhm, m'fine."
As if you’d believe that.
You raise a brow and move the silicone away from your cunt before snorting, "Why're you making that face then?"
"Well, I kinda..." He turns his blushing face away from you completely. Voice small, "Watching that made me cum..."
"What?” You lean up a bit, propping your body up more comfortably against your elbows, “I couldn't hear you, speak up."
Choso thinks his cock is gonna hurt after all this. He turns to face you again and looks you dead in the eyes as he speaks softly, "Watching you do that made me cum."
You blink dumbfoundedly as you find yourself unable to stop the amused smile that breaks into your features, "Just like that?"
He nods.
"You didn't even touch yourself..." You snort, looking down at yourself and shrugging as you tap the dildo against your pussy. Speaking casually, "I know you're a perv 'n all but, shit, I thought you'd last a little longer than that."
Choso’s entire world freezes, "Wait, what?"
"Mmnh," You’re busy moaning as you let the tip play with your entrance—teasing yourself shamelessly right in front of him.
The fact that you just admitted you’d known he was a filthy pervert all this time, and then went back to playing with yourself like it was nothing really threw him off.
Not that he has much time to let that sink in, though. Choso is far too easily distracted by the sight of your glistening pussy below, the living room light doing well to illuminate just how pretty your wet, sopping folds look against the head of the dildo.
“O-Ohhhh fuck.” He gasps, already on the verge of pleasureful tears. “You’re…” His hand shoots down to hold his dick as if to control it—squeezing his shaft roughly before pushing at it. "You’re soakedd. Can I taste it?” Choso asks, voice cracking a little on the last word.
You flick your eyes up at him, “What?”
“Wanna lick it,” He's whispering while moving to lean down, and flashing you this voracious look from his half-lidded eyes. “Can I? Please? Can I taste you, mommy?”
The second, “What.” that falls from your lips is flat as you find yourself struggling to process just how quickly he'd positioned himself in between your plush thighs and how smoothly that name just poured off of his tongue.
“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to uh-, call you that…” Choso grumbles awkwardly, looking away to let the moment pass before peeking back up at you, “But, can I please—“
“Why should I let you?” You interrupt rudely.
He blinks. “Huh?”
The sudden shift in tension was rather palpable since you realized it's you who's in control here, and not him. “After alllll the dirty things you’ve done in thought of me," Your head angles off to the right, "Why should I let you taste me, Choso?”
“B-Because I’ll make you feel good,” He tries to promise, his dark eyes locked up onto the unfairly gorgeous display of you—wearing his hoodie and spread out a few inches away from his waiting mouth.
His small promise does little to help his case considering how you tut, “Aw, you think so?”
“Uhuh,” Choso nods submissively.
There's a feral, burning urge inside of him to bury his face in between your legs without permission, but that same urge battles strongly against the equally as resilient urge to be pliant and await your every command.
“That’s cute," You say before holding the dildo towards him, "How about this; if you can make me cum with this, I’ll let you get your taste, yeah?”
For the first time, Choso lets his eyes capture the toy you've been using all this time. The item is... weirdly familiar. Your roommate is many things, but he's not stupid—he knows what his own dick looks like.
Not that he has the mind to question you about it right now, though. there are much more pressing matters to tend to.
Which is exactly why he's not asking you anything as he takes the toy from your hands and then looks down at your cunt. Your hole pulses as if asking to be filled and he thinks his heart skips a beat.
He can see, touch, and smell everything.
Sluggishly, Choso directs the head of the fake cock towards your entrance and applies the faintest bit of pressure before stopping the moment he feels resistance. “Uh, is it.. supposed to do that?” Choso murmurs as he looks up, “Like.. are you supposed to be this tight? Do I need to use lu—“
“Don’t tell me you’ve never had sex before," You cut off.
You've had a feeling for months that Choso was a virgin but you'd never been too sure until now.
He pouts sheepishly, “Well..."
“Just-,” You cut yourself off with a sharp exhale. “Y’know what, you're the one that wanted to taste me so bad. I’m not teaching you, figure it out.”
His chest feels like it's caving in for a moment, “What?” He'd never heard you be so.. mean. Though he'd be lying is he said he wasn't into it, “But you made a copy of my dick, I don’t think that’s fai—“
“I don’t think it’s fair that you’re in between my legs with a toy in your hands and no idea how to use it," You say with a prominent roll of your eyes. “If you wanna taste my pussy, figure it the fuck out, Choso. Make me cum."
Oh, his cock swells impossibly harder.
Then he whines, “Y-Yes ma’am..."
Choso takes a deep breath and returns his attention to your cunt. Leaning down experimentally, his lips press clumsy, open-mouthed kisses against your inner thigh before he starts working his way inward. His nose bumps against your folds a few times, but you keep watching him try his best to piece everything together.
His brows furrow a little before he glides the dildo up and nudges it under your clitoral hood, plucking it away directly after once he notices your body flinching, and then tapping the silicone back down against it in the same way he'd seen you do earlier.
“This is your clit, right?” His question is made with genuine curiosity, but something in his eyes tells you that he already knows the answer to it—he simply wants to hear you say it.
Your head bobs a little and you're already feeling a little dazed from watching him, “Uhuh…”
You could feel his searing breaths flap down against all your wet skin and it was making you more sensitive than normal. The sound of your breathy confirmation made his face light up triumphantly.
Choso waves the tip of the dildo—technically his cock—left 'n right against your clit just to tease you before he lifts it away and lets it push against your hole again. He presses it forward with more pressure than the first time and finally pokes an inch inside you, lifting his eyes to see you bite back a moan.
You were so fucking needy.
He can only imagine how hard it was for you to sit there and act like you didn't have this toy inside you all that time. Now you're more worked up than you probably would be in any normal situation.
He strips your insides of that taunting inch after a few seconds and then repeats this action over and over until he can hear it in your breathing that you're getting frustrated with him. But before you can send him any complaints, he lifts his head and hovers his lips over your clit.
“It’s so pretty, can I kiss it?” Choso asks softly.
“I…” His eyes are all glossy ‘n pleading—too irresistible for you to say no. “Yeah…" You concede, "But no licking.”
“Thank you,” Then he dives in and smothers his lips against your clit, sucking on it lightly without ever letting his tongue make contact with it.
The tip of that stupid silicone continues to pop in and out of your squelchy pussy mindlessly as Choso gets addicted to the feel of your clit against his lips.
Muttering, “S’pretty,” into the twitchy lil’ bud over ‘n over again in between the groans he's letting vibrate out. “It keeps—mwah, runnin’ from me.” He whispers against you, “Sensitive girl—she’s so fuckin’ cute.”
As soon as that praise leaves him, the entire length of the fake cock is thrusted into you and your back is forced into a nasty arch as your hands grab at the couch. A wanton, “Choso!” flying out of your mouth before you can even help it.
He plucks his lips away and glances up at you desperately, “Can I lick her now? Please. I’ll pass out if I don’t—“
“Fine,” You huff shakily, “J-Just... lick her ‘real good for me or I’ll make you stop.”
He doesn't have to be told twice whatsoever.
The next thing you feel is his tongue finally melting against your clit as the dildo is thrusted into you, stretching your saccharine walls out perfectly. Choso only fucks the toy in halfway this time though, pulling it out directly afterwards and then repeating this action many times over as if that's all you could take.
It's at complete random that he decides to fuck the entire length of it inside you, and your body flinches as the sudden gesture is paired with his tongue practically wrapping around your poor clit.
“You like that, princess?” Choso utters with a rasp, sticking his tongue out to show you how he moves it around into spelling out his name, “Like the way I flick my tongue against this pussy? Hm? Am I doin' a good job now?”
“F-Fuck. Hnngh-, yeahhh..” You purr out all softly, hips carefully rocking up to meet both his tongue and the dildo.
You hadn’t expected him to be a talker, especially since he’s never done this before. You assume he’s just saying whatever sounds right in hopes that it works, and luckily for him it always seems to.
In a matter of minutes, Choso's fucking you relentlessly with both his tongue and the copy of his cock. You could drive that toy into you at the same speed of which he's doing now, which is exactly why it's not long before you're whining for him to slow down a little since you didn't wanna cum so quickly.
It felt like he'd only just started!
And if he was doing all this with his tongue glued solely to your clit and that toy thrashing against your g-spot, you could only imagine what the entirety of his mouth would provide for you if you let him.
Even with your pleas of him slowing his pace, Choso wasn't much listening until after you came all over the dildo. He let the toy slip right out of you and held it to the side as he tried to move in and lick at your gaping hole in an attempt of finally getting a raw taste of you.
Sure, he got to savor a bit of you just from licking at your clit but that was far from enough.
You shot a hand down to grab ahold of his hair and yank his head up before that could happen. Panting, “What’re you doing?” as you furrow your brows at him.
Choso whimpers, “Y-You said I could taste you after I made you feel good.”
“Yeah," You smirk, "But not like that.”
You make a gesture towards the same toy he's steadily growing very envious of and his eyes are slow to follow along. Then he frowns because he knows exactly where this is going.
His chocolatey eyes travel along the fake veins trailing the cock and he wonders distantly how you managed to capture every essence of his sex like that. “You… You want me to suck my own…” Choso trails off instead of completing his sentence as the realization settles in.
All whilst you're laying there with the same haughty smile on your face, “You want your taste don’t you?”
A light, defeated groan evades his lips as he watches you go on to grab the dildo and hold it up towards his mouth. The slick, shining toy is absolutely coated in you—your arousal clung to the silicone in glossy streaks, and the evidence of your orgasm fragrant and sloppy against the material.
Choso's nose twitches as he catches the sweet scent of your release oozing off of it before his voice stains out. "Fuck." He breathes, watching a slow bead of your cum slide down the length of the silicone—some of it pooled at the tip where a perfect copy of his own slit had been molded.
The man can't help the way he licks his lips reflexively as he leans towards it.
"Atta' boy," You hum, tapping the head of the toy against his bottom lip and watching your wetness smear across his skin. "Open up and get your taste, c'mon."
There's a war between his pride and his raging need to satisfy your every whim, of which the latter easily wins.
Choso parts his lips and you guide the head inside, his eyes fluttering shut upon feeling your taste meet his tongue. He moans around the toy and you push more of it into his mouth, watching how pretty his lips sealing around the shaft as he begins to hesitantly suck.
"Look at youuu, sucking yourself clean," Your words come out in a breathy purr the more you watch him work his mouth around the copy of his dick. "Good boy."
His eyes open and he bobs his head forward a little more, hips rutting against the couch hard enough for the furniture to inch forward. You watch drool trickle out of his mouth and trail down his chin, feeling yourself throb each time he moans.
You knew Choso was desperate for you but this...
“Mmgh..” He groans around the faux flesh, sucking a little faster once he notices the glow of entertainment in your eyes as you watch him.
“How’s it taste, pretty boy?” You ask in that unfairly sinful tone.
Choso pops his mouth off and gives you a fucked-out little simper, “S’good, mommy.”
Your hand falters against the base of the toy for a moment as you chuff out, “Stop calling me that.”
“Sorry,” He says, not sounding the slightest bit apologetic as he returns to licking his cock clean.
After a long, drawn-out time of him practically sucking and licking the dildo brand new, he pulls away from it with a slippery, wet pop!
Then he gasps, sucking in air, and moves his arm over to wipe off the slick and saliva mix from his chin. There's a disheveled look plastered all over his face and his eyes are hazy when met with yours.
"Was that good?" You ask despite already knowing the answer.
To your surprise, Choso doesn't respond.
He just stares at you like he's debating more things than can currently be expressed through words. Then he wraps his hands around the base of the dildo, snatches it from your grasp, and tosses it across the living room like it's useless.
Halfway-glaring at you with a new look in his eyes, he leans up leisurely. His hands move to the edge of his sweatpants and you see his dick imprint practically staring at you from beyond the fabric—a concerning wet patch darkening the area.
There's something grave in his eyes as he cocks his head over and exhales heavily, “Can I give you the real thing now?”
Your thighs twitch but you hope he doesn't notice it. Trying to distract him from it by shrugging, “You think you’ve earned it?”
“I think,” His fingers dip beneath the fabric and he begins to tug his pants down, “You’re being a brat—acting like you’re not just as bad as me.”
Oh. The switch in his head had most certainly been flipped and you were not expecting it.
“What?” You puff.
“Look at you now,” He reaches out and presses the thick pad of his thumb against your clit, “Swollen, needy, aching… all for me.”
Your thighs try to shut, “T-That’s just because—“
“Shhh, shhh,” He hushes, rapidly swatting his hands over to your legs and forcing them open before you can close them, “Let me show you I’ve earned it.”
He grips at your skin until it feels like you won't move once he extracts his hold on you, swallowing up how pretty you look submitting to him now.
Choso goes to pull his dick out and your breath hitches, entire body flinching as you watch it bob out. His length spanks down against your pussy, meanly spreading your wobbly lips apart and nudging against every sensitive nerve you have there.
Your roommate doesn’t move for a moment and just sits there so you can feel his veins thumping, and watch the crown of his cock drooool silky, wet ropes of mushy cum against your abdomen. He's a mess of his own seed but he doesn't seem to care or be embarassed by it whatsoever.
After all, you're the one who got him like this.
All while he’s panting, sweat running down his skin, and face flushed beyond belief. Hovering over you, Choso tilts his head and continues on with his needy glare, “Can I fuck you now?”
“Yeah,” You don't even hesitate to whisper.
His hand moves to hold your jaw graciously but the way he tugs your face up is quite rough, “Speak up.” He demands.
“Yeah,” You say clearly, “You can fuck me, Choso.”
And that’s all he needs.
Next thing you know and Choso's tucking his thiiiiick, creamy cock into your quivering pussy, throwing his head back from the sensation of feeling you welcoming him in for the first time. He's got one hand clasped onto the couch and the other having moved to grip the top of your head so you can watch him have his way with you.
He couldn't let you miss a second of this by looking away or turning your head because you didn't want him to see how much your face twists up in pleasure. No, no, if you're gonna let him fuck you then you're gonna watch how he does it too.
Every fuckin' second of it.
That initial inch of him sinking into you had your vision blurring. The dildo you had made couldn't even begin to compare nor replicate the real thing. It doesn't twitch the way he does, doesn't end with his hips pressing forward with intentional, punishing slowness as if to get back at you for making the damn thing in the first place, and doesn't make you feel every ridge or rubbing vein against the soppiest crevices of your pussy.
"Look at that," Choso drawls, his eyes locked onto where your bodies meet, "You take me s'fucking well—always knew you would." He admits.
But then he stops halfway with no warning, no nothing. You're left impaled and clenching around him, wanting and needing more desperately whilst he just waits. He watches how your walls flutter around him as if to bed for the rest but he still doesn't move.
Your voice feels broken, "C-Choso.."
"Hm? Something wrong, princess?" He coos innocently, "You want me to keep going?"
You nod desperately and the movement makes his hand grip at your skull tighter by just a fraction. Then he sinks in a little deeper and you deliver a trembling moan in response.
He doesn't even sound like the sweet, respectful Choso you know has he tuts, "I can't hear you."
Through gritted teeth, "Yes—fucking move, Cho. Please, fuck me." you beg.
The edges of his lips curl, "Thaaat's more like it."
And then he's bucking the rest of his plump cock into you, bottoming out just the way both of you have always desired. The fluid motion has air fleeing from your lungs and your back angling up ‘n away from the couch, a shamefully loud cry—that you’re sure your neighbors will send complaints about later—leaping out of your trachea.
Choso sets a nasty rhythm inside you, thrusting without a concern in the world about the way the couch is squeaking and creaking beneath your bodies.
Shit. At this rate the dame thing could just break and he still wouldn’t give a fuck.
His hand tightens within your hair and he pulls at your head, “Goddd, you’ve no idea how long I-, hahh… waited for this. Need you to watch, baby. Watch how I fuck this pretty pussy.”
You feel his stout cockhead flog up against your cervix repeatedly, almost like he means to brand himself into the area and have his cum signing his name across it permanently.
“Can’t believe you got some-, fuck—s-stupid toy to replace me. L-Like m’not right here for you,” He pants, a crisp whine slipping out somewhere in between his words. “You knew you wanted the real thing, knew you needed it. Right? Doesn’t this feel s’much better, princess?”
Your jaw is flailing open at this point and you’re a slobbering, moaning mess underneath him, “Yes, Choso. F-Feels s’good, nngh!”
A particularly puncturing thrust makes your eyes fly to the back of your head and your hand reach over to hold onto his arm, nails scratching across his skin. He smiles once he realizes he’s found the perfect spot to fuck you dumb.
Then he’s doing exactly that, pounding your body straight into the mattress and letting groans pour out of his mouth. He’s so fucked-out that he doesn’t even realize he’s drooling on you as he plows forward.
Your pussy is weeping all over his cock, lugging his every jerky inch in deeper ‘n deeper until he earns a specific twitch from you.
“O-Oh,” Choso moans again, “I found it, huh? You gonna cum on me again?” Once your head goes nodding and your pleasureful cries pitch out into airy whines, he gasps. “Give it to me then. Please? Please cum on me, lemme feel it. I wanna feel it baby—wanna feel you cum.”
His words immediately fade off into whimpers when he feels you doing exactly as he’s begged you to—your orgasm practically crashing through you and causing your body to convulse around him. Choso fucks you through it like his life depends on it, eager not to disappoint.
Then he’s right there with you—even though he technically came again quite some time ago, but both of you were too fucked-out to realize—and you feel globs of his cum gushing all throughout your pussy, the mess of releases getting mixed with one another with the way his hips insistently continued on.
Muttering, “Take it, take it, take it-,” over and over mindlessly whilst your cunt shuddered around him.
It’s not until his hips come to a sharp stop that both of you manage to catch your breath in an synchronized gasp of air. Choso’s body topples down over you and you feel his cock twitching as it goes flaccid inside you.
Your bodies remain still for a minute or two before he lifts his head to look at your face, leaning in to plaster kisses on your cheek and whisper intimate things that your ears don’t quite catch.
When your ears come in tune with what he’s saying, "—and about that video... I wanted to apologize for that. A-And for everything else." you hear him finishing off with.
To which you let out a little dream-like sigh, "Choso… I literally have a camera in my room. I've known about what you've been doing for quite a while now. You don't have to apologize."
"Oh, you-," He pauses and lifts his body. "Wait, what?"
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The package arrived in a plain brown box with no return address, just a shipping label from some sketchy overseas site Peter had clearly ordered from late at night. He’d handed it to you with that crooked, boyish grin he gets when he thinks he’s being hilarious, cheeks a little pink under his messy brown curls.
“Open it,” he’d said, bouncing on the balls of his feet in the middle of your tiny off-campus apartment. “It’s a joke. Sort of. For when I’m out doing the whole friendly neighborhood thing and you’re stuck here studying.”
Inside was a fleshlight—sleek black silicone, heavier than you expected, with a realistic entrance and a tight internal texture. You’d stared at it for a long second, heat crawling up your neck, then shoved it back in the box and muttered something about him being an idiot. Peter had laughed it off, ruffled your hair, and promised it was just to tease you because you were always so shy about this stuff. He never once thought you’d actually touch it.
A week passed. Midterms were brutal. You had a twenty-page essay due on molecular biology, a group project presentation that kept falling apart because half your teammates ghosted the shared doc, and two more exams looming. The stress sat heavy in your chest like wet concrete. Sleep became a rumor. Meals turned into whatever energy bar was closest.
Then the fever hit.
It started with chills that turned into full-body heat, your skin burning while sweat soaked through your shirt. The room spun every time you stood up too fast. You nearly collapsed trying to grab your backpack that morning, vision blurring at the edges. Peter caught you by the elbow, his spider-sense probably tingling before you even wobbled.
“Hey, no. Absolutely not,” he said, voice firm but gentle, the way he gets when he’s worried but trying not to hover too obviously. His brown eyes searched your face, brow furrowed under those perpetually messy curls. “You’re burning up. Back to bed. Now.”
You tried to argue—you had to make it to the lecture hall, the professor was strict about attendance, and the group project meeting was right after—but Peter wasn’t having it. He steered you back to the bedroom with careful hands, the kind that could bench-press a car but touched you like you might break. He tucked you in, pressed a cool cloth to your forehead, left water and medicine on the nightstand, and kissed your temple.
“I’ll take notes for you,” he promised, slinging his own bag over his shoulder. “Text me if it gets worse. I mean it.”
The apartment door clicked shut behind him.
The silence that followed was oppressive. Your skin felt too tight, sheets damp with sweat. Every breath came ragged. Sleep refused to come; the dizziness kept the room tilting even with your eyes closed. Minutes dragged into what felt like hours. Your mind kept drifting back to that stupid box under the bed.
You told yourself it was just to distract from the fever. Something mindless. Harmless.
You slid the box out, hands trembling a little from the heat coursing through you. The fleshlight felt cool against your fever-warm palm. You stripped down to nothing, the air of the room raising goosebumps on your overheated skin. Your cock was soft at first, but you wrapped a hand around yourself anyway, stroking slowly while you grabbed the bottle of lotion from the nightstand. The wet sounds of your hand filled the quiet room—slick, rhythmic, accompanied by your rough, uneven breathing.
It didn’t take long for blood to rush south. You were leaking already, the tip glistening as you twisted your wrist just right. The fever made everything feel heightened, too sensitive. You slicked up the toy generously, positioned it, and pushed in.
The stretch was immediate and intense. Tight, yielding silicone gripped you inch by inch until you were fully seated, hips twitching at the sudden fullness. A low groan slipped out before you could stop it. You stayed still for a moment, adjusting, then started to move—slow rolls at first that quickly turned desperate.
Meanwhile, across campus in the crowded lecture hall, Peter sat near the middle row, laptop open, notebook beside it. The professor droned on about quantum mechanics applications, voice a monotonous buzz that blended with the scratch of pens and occasional coughs from other students. Peter’s pen moved steadily across the page, copying diagrams, trying to focus despite the low hum of boredom settling in his bones. The seat was uncomfortable, the room stuffy. He shifted once, twice.
Then it hit.
A sharp, sudden pressure bloomed deep inside him—his hole stretching open around something thick and solid that wasn’t there. His body jolted hard enough that his knee knocked the desk. A strangled sound escaped his throat, half gasp, half choked exhale.
The girl next to him—a quiet brunette from his study group—glanced over, eyebrows raised. “You okay?”
Peter forced a quick nod, cheeks already flushing. “Yeah. Just… leg cramp. Sorry.”
He ducked his head, forearms dropping to rest on the desk as he tried to steady his breathing. The sensation didn’t stop. It kept going—slow at first, then deeper, fuller, dragging against that spot inside him that made sparks shoot up his spine. His cock twitched in his jeans, filling rapidly despite the public setting. He kept his head down, forehead nearly touching his folded arms, shoulders tense. Every few seconds another involuntary sound threatened to slip out—a tiny hitch in his breath, a soft exhale that sounded far too wrecked for a boring morning class.
Sweat beaded at his hairline, unrelated to the room’s temperature. His hole clenched around the invisible intrusion, body reacting on instinct even as his mind scrambled to stay quiet. The girl beside him shifted again, but he didn’t look up. He couldn’t. Not when the pressure kept building, relentless and deep.
The thrusts in his body picked up pace. Each one dragged perfectly, making his thighs press together under the desk. His cock strained against his zipper, leaking into his underwear. Peter’s notes turned into illegible scribbles. He rocked subtly in his seat, trying to ease the pressure, but it only made everything sharper. His breathing came in short, controlled bursts through his nose.
When the lecture finally ended, the shuffle of bags and chairs scraping filled the hall. Peter stayed exactly where he was, head still pillowed on his forearms, body locked tight. One final, deep thrust hit perfectly and he came hard—silent except for a muffled grunt into his sleeve. Warmth flooded his boxers, sticky and undeniable. He could feel the phantom sensation of thick, hot liquid spilling deep inside him, even though nothing physical was there.
The sensation lingered as the classroom emptied out around him. Peter remained slumped against the desk, body buzzing, legs shaky, mind blissed-out and hazy. His hole fluttered around the aftershocks, oversensitive. He was a mess—pants ruined, thoroughly spent.
Back in the apartment, you lay sprawled on the bed, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat that had nothing to do with the fever anymore. The fleshlight sat beside you on the sheets, thoroughly wrecked—leaking thick stripes of your cum down its sides and onto the towel you’d half-heartedly thrown under yourself. Your cock twitched with the last weak spurts, spent and sensitive. The dizziness from earlier had been replaced by a heavy, sated exhaustion that pulled at your limbs.
You stared at the ceiling, breath still ragged, a faint flush of embarrassment mixing with the afterglow.
Peter, still folded over the desk in the now-empty lecture hall, let out a slow, shaky exhale. His spider-sense finally quieted. He was a mess—pants ruined, body buzzing, brain fuzzy in the best and worst way.
Neighbor Steve Rogers, Male Reader is Steve's neighbor and he's chilling in his backyard when he hears moaning and something hitting glass so he goes to check and is shocked to see a suction cup dildo stuck to his neighbor's back widow and his neighbor Steve fucking himself on it -his big beautiful asscheeks slamming against the glass suddenly Steve looks and sees the male reader looking and freezes then Steve smiles and starts going again looking at the male reader then after awhile he pulls off the dildo and walks away suddenly confusing the male reader then his backdoor opens and he's standing there naked and asks if the male reader wants to replace the dildo instead of watching and he agrees so steve pulls the male reader into his house and brings him to his room and the Male Reader eats Steve out then Steve uses his cock, Dom bottom Steve Rogers and sub top Male Reader. Steve uses his cock and the male reader cums in Steve multiple times (I'm thinking at least four or five) the male reader then takes a picture of Steve's cum leaking ass and sets it as his screen savor with Steve's permission of course (that's inspired by a fic of yours that I read) and they end up falling asleep cuddling. Cut to the next day and the male reader gets a text from Steve saying to go to the backyard and when he does he sees Steve using the suction cup dildo again fucking himself on it with his asscheeks slamming against the window and the male reader happily watches... Hope this is ok, I'll send an ask in a second asking what you think can you let me know if it's ok or not when I do....
(btw Steve is NOT ftm in this fic and neither is the male reader I just wanna clarify in case, and can you please not use the word pussy to talk about Steve's ass can it just be called his hole or ass) sorry I don't mean to be rude I just wanted to ask because I know some people like that and others don't.
Happy birthday to dear Anon
Don't be shy
Warning. 18+. Mature content. Dom Bottom character. Dom Bottom Steve Rogers. Sub Top Male Reader. Both reader and character have a cock. Exhibitionism. Use of sex toys. Creampie. Agape.
Neighbor! Dom Bottom Steve Rogers x Sub Top Male Reader
It's been only a few months since you've moved out of the loud city into a rather nice, isolated suburban neighborhood. Sure, it took you some time to get used to the quietness of the place, but it felt nice, it felt peaceful, perfect for you.
The neighborhood had everything that you needed, it wasn't so far from the city so it was easy for you to go to work and come back. Convenience stores were accessible, malls and restaurants as well, everything was at your reach. The neighbors were surprisingly all nice, there were mainly elderly people and families, they did prefer the quiet life, so there were some little rules around like; don't throw a loud party with music at full volume at twelve in the morning, thankfully, you were not part of that kind of people.
As a gay man, finding single gay men in this neighborhood was hard, it was a challenge. But oh well, what can you do about it? However, your neighbor, who lived just by the side of your house, caught your eye. Steve, you remember his name, he's a good man, and also very attractive one. Tall, broad, muscular, blond, with beautiful blue eyes and a charming smile. Sigh, he's probably straight, you thought.
You met him the first day you moved to your new house, while you were moving the heavy boxes from your car, he had come back from jogging. You remember very well how his shirt was soaked in sweat, clinging so well on his torso, highlighting his muscles under that fabric... It was hard to look away, but you were forced, there was no way you were going to be seen as a creep in your first day. Steve was a gentleman, he helped you move your boxes inside and even offered you to join him tomorrow for a jog, to which you had to sadly decline as you had work to do. But you two kept in touch with eachother, everytime you were leaving for work, Steve was already coming back from his morning jog, giving you the chance to exchange some few words before proceeding with your day.
For many months, you coudln't stop thinking about your handsome neighbor who seemed to come from one of these porno movies you used to watch. You never tried to flirt with him, you never invited him for a drink with that kind of intension, because in your mind, you thought he was as straight as a pole.
Until now.
You were taking the sun outside in your backyard, enjoying the summer weather of June. Drink in your hand and sunglasses on, it felt good to have a day far from the stress of work. The thought of inviting Steve for some drinks and BBQ in your backyard had crossed your mind, but you haven't seen him in the whole day, he was probably busy, so you decided not to bother him or anything. That was until weird noises were heard from the other side of the fence, they were coming from Steve's house. At first you didn't mind, Steve was probably doing some hard work, and it would be rude to not mind your own business. However, it was getting harder to ignore the constant hitting on the window. It wasn't like a knock that you'd do with the hand on the glass, no, it sounded like a heavier object was hitting on it. Did Steve need your help? Was he doing mannual labor? At this hour?
The heavy hits on the window kept going, and at some point you had enough of them. You stood up from your chair and went to observe over the fence to see what was going on. The moment you stood near the large wooden fence and peeked over, your eyes widened when the sight of two plump, perfect, pale asscheeks smuched against the window came abruptly. By pure instinct and shock, you turned to look away, already panting with your heart beating fast inside your chest. What was that? You had to imagine it. Was that Steve? He was obviously... taking personal matters in, you should just ignore what you just saw and go back to drinking your pink limonade... but...
You mentally cursed yourself, already feeling dirty, guilty, disgusting, before peeking over the fence again, and taking in that special sight your neighbor was so easily giving.
A soft groan was heard from you as your cheeks slowly turned red.
It was indeed your neighbor Steve, naked, fully naked right at his window. He was smashing his ass against the glass, but what caught your eyes, was the obvious sight of his stretched, wide open hole pressing against the window with every harsh thrust of his hips. It seems Steve was fucking himself on a toy, a transparent suction cup dildo stuck on the window of his house. Steve couldn't see you, he hasn't noticed your presence yet as his back was turned on you.
Your eyes were glued on how Steve's perfect, soft asscheeks smashed on the glass with each thrust, that particular zone on the window was growing wetter and foggy. His hole, wide open, was such a lewd sight for you, but you couldn't stop staring at it. You could see his pink gummy walls so well. The muffled moans of Steve could be slightly heard from your position, he was going all in with his firm and harsh thrusts. His neglected cock and balls were hanging heavy between his legs, bouncing with each thrust, the tip leaking a stream of pre-cum right on the floor.
"Fuck..." you groaned lowly. Your pants felt all of the sudden tight on you, your cock had woken up, interested by the view. It grew slowly hard, but throbbed excitedly inside the fabric of your pants. Couldn't help but slowly palm yourself in hopes to calm your raging erection.
The fear of getting caught was present in your mind, but the sight of such a gorgeous man doing something as lewd as fucking himself on the window, right where his neighbors could see him, was something you couldn't miss.
At some point, his moans grew louder just like the banging on the window. His hands held his cheeks open as his hole clenched faster and eager around the dildo. The thrusts of the blond man's hips got slower all of the sudden, his legs trembled, and his cock throbbed furiously while shooting thick ropes of cum on the floor. What a mess. An exquisite mess. You enjoyed it, your cock fully hard under your pants, begging to be released.
Your eyes went down on your zipper, hesitating on whether pulling it out or not. Then looked up again to check if Steve was still there, and your heart stopped beating for a minute when you met with two blue eyes staring at you from inside of the house. Steve caught you staring, oh fuck. Oh fuck. Heat came to your cheeks, and sweat on your forehead, your mind was glitching, trying to figure out what to do right now. Look away? Say sorry? Fake a seizure?
Nothing, actually. Steve smiled and winked at you before moving his hips back on the toy while staring at you. You didn't know what to do, this was a surprise, a welcoming surprise. His hand went to squeeze one of his asscheeks before slaming his ass against the window again. He wanted you to look at him fucking himself, and that almost made you cum inside your pants.
Steve's leg's opened more slightly, exposing his cock that was waking up very slowly once again. He pulled back from the glistening toy, his eyes still on you as he bit his lower lip, he moved his hips a bit before moving two fingers between his cheeks and opening his hole for you to see. Was this an invitation?
But then he stopped, before walking away from the window. Where was he going? You panicked for a little second, wanting to see more of him, already missing his body.
The backdoor then opened, revealing that perfect body your cock was begging to fuck. Steve stood there, handsome as always, smiling at you, showing his pearl white teeth.
"You know..." he started, "that toy is useful, but it doesn't reach some spots I want to feel."
You blinked, not believing what he was telling you, you could only let out a soft, "Oh..."
"Right? So, would you like to replace it?" Oh.
Your mind first screamed "YES", but your lips were hesitant. Your body, on the other hand, did agree with your mind, and your head just nodded slowly.
Steve's smile widened before approaching the fence. Once standing face to face with you, he effortlessly ripped a plank of wood from the fence, making space for you to enter his backyard. Your eyes widened at the action, such strength was impressive... and scary. The blond man chuckled at your reaction and pulled you inside by grabbing the collar of your shirt. "Don't be shy, handsome."
Once inside his house, he dragged you across the halls and pulled you inside his bedroom before pushing you on the comfortable bed. Steve moved on top of you, and you felt so small under him.
"Uh.. Steve..." you mumbled, cheeks feeling hot as his amazing chest was centimers close to your face.
"Remove your pants," he demanded, his breath shaking slightly.
Your hands moved on their own to your pants, removing your pants in a hurry, not wanting to make Steve wait much longer. Your cock jumped out of the confines happily, finally free, standing tall and proud right under Steve.
The blond man bit his lower lip, turned on by how excited you were from watching him fuck himself on the window of his backyard.
"You have a nice one... probably bigger than that toy, fuck." Just by seeing the size of your cock, he was already out of breath. "You'll have to stretch me some more, darling."
"Right," you agreed with him, excited to finally feel him, Steve loved that.
"Go on then." Right after he finished his sentence, you pushed him down on the mattress and lifted his hips so his legs were above your shoulders. "What are you- Ooh!" His brain turned off once you kissed that perfect entrance of his. "Oh fuck..."
You moved his legs forward so you could have a better view of that sweet asshole. Pink, puffy, slick with juice and lube and slightly stretched from the dildo, was a lewd view yet so appetitizing.
"My god..." you mumbled before licking it slowly, provoking another moan from the man under you. "So delicious..." You pushed two fingers of yours inside, stretching open, enough for you to push your tongue in.
"Gosh! Y/n...!" Steve had a strong grip on the sheets, his hole clenching around your fingers as it tried to suck them deeper.
You removed your fingers and replaced it with your tongue, you first pushed the tip in to test the waters. Steve clenched again by pure instinct at the feeling of the warm muscle inside of him. He tasted amazing, you moved your tongue around to make more space to fit in, and pushed deeper until your whole mouth was between his cheeks.
Steve's legs wrapped around your head, holding you there to eat his ass out.
"Yes, yes, fuck... eat my ass," he moaned delightfuly.
You held his hips with your hands tightly as you moved your tongue more eagerly. Saliva was coating around the exquisite entrance as you sucked in hungrily, your tongue moved in a circular motion, rubbing all the good spots. For oxygen you had to pull back, a string of saliva connected your lips from the puffy hole. "You taste fantastic," you complimented, kissing the soft skin of his inner thighs.
"Hmm, it felt so good, go back in." With his legs tangled around your head, Steve puched you back in his ass, your mouth landing back on that hole to which you welcomed gladly with your tongue going deep inside again. "Hmmm, yesss... oh yes!"
His inner walls kept you trapped inside, sucking your tongue deeper. The continuous wet slurp of your mouth and his entrance accompanied by the dirty moans of Steve were the only things you could hear.
"Oh-oooh... I'm coming... gosh, I'm coming... nghh-aah!" His cock throbbed violently as cum started to spurt out from the tip and landed right on his beautiful, flushing face and perfect, strong chest. "Ahn..." He looked sinfully gorgeous, you could devour him with kisses.
"Sluuurrp... haaa, perfect hole for me," you commented, pulling back once more to stare down at the pink, wet mess of Steve's entrance.
Steve chuckled as he reached down with one hand to wrap around your cock, giving it some few pumps. "Mhm, and perfect dick for me. Go on Y/n, give it one last kiss before I take your dick inside me."
You grinned before kissing and sucking his entrance one last time before gently laying him back down on the mattress. "How you wanna do it now?" you asked.
Steve turned around on his stomach, got on four and brought his ass up. "Here, I prefer this position." With one hand, he pulled open his asscheeks, exposing his puckered, slick hole winking at you eagerly. "Go on, what are you waiting for?" To tempt you more, Steve pushed two fingers inside him, but you didn't need to be tempted, you wanted to be inside so badly.
On the palm of your hand you spat and rubbed the saliva on your cock to make it work as lube. Once ready, you lined the tip with his asshole and slowly pushed inside the head first.
"Fuck, yes..." you heard him gasp happily.
It felt so warm inside him, so wet, and incredibly tight despite the preparation.
"Gosh... Steve..."
"Keep pushing, nghh... keep pushing, I can take it." He moved his hips slowly towards you, wanting to take more.
With your hands on his hips, you sank deeper. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, you could swear they reached the back of your throat, so hot inside, your cock could probably melt inside.
"Shit... how can you be so tight?" You had to stop moving to take some air back in your lungs. Your mind was spiralling with how good it felt to be buried inside your neighbor.
Steve whined, happy to finally have a real cock deep inside him, he's been craving to have a good fuck for a while now. "Don't stop moving, sweetie... I need you to fuck me so good."
You gave one thrust, and had to bite your lip hard to prevent a loud moan from escaping. "Fuck... I can't..." Steve whined again and moved his hips backwards, fucking himself on your cock like he did with the dildo downstairs. "Shit! Steve... wait- ah!"
"I'm a very patient man, Y/n... but not this time, so don't tell me to wait when you know I'm hungry." He stood on his knees and brought an arm around your neck before continuing to use your cock.
For support you wrapped your arms around his waist while you moaned close to his ear. His plump ass met with your hips at an increasing pace as he kept going faster and faster. Small curses left his lips before shutting himself up by kissing you deeply, his tongue pushing past your lips to explore your mouth.
"Hmmm..." You could feel how Steve's inner walls tightened around your cock, holding a firm grip on your shaft and everytime you pulled back, it sucked you back in. "Hell..."
Steve wasn't far away from losing his mind on your dick, that's for sure. "Grab my chest..." he mumbled through soft gasps.
"Huh..?"
"Grab my chest, play with my chest...." He grabbed your hands and placed them on top of his pectorals, forcing you to squeeze the flesh under your palm, to grip them, massage them hard till his pale skin turned red. "Yes... yes... oh yes...!"
It felt good to grab those soft muscles with your hand, your fingers went to tease his nipples until they grew hard and erected.
Steve clenched again, and it almost made you cum.
You kissed his neck and shoulder, dragging your tongue on the sweaty skin. Your balls felt heavy with all the cum ready to come out and fill his hole like a glazed donut. "Steve, I'm- gosh, I'm so close..."
The blond man went back on four on the mattress, pushing his ass further on your hips. "Inside! Please cum inside...!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! God, yes!"
Reassuered by Steve's confirmation, you removed all restraints from yourself as you started to move slower yet deeper inside him, giving harsh thrusts with your hips. Steve buried his face in the pillow, biting the fabric as he held back a loud moan the moment he felt hot and fuzzy inside. You gasped, delighted at the feeling of releasing a load of cum right inside your neighbor, it flooded every corner, and it felt as if a massive weight just got removed from you.
With a soft sigh, you collapsed on top of Steve, satisfied. But the calmness didn't take long to finish when Steve removed you from on top and pushed you on your back against the mattress. He swiftly moved on top of you, sitting on your shaft without penetrating himself.
"You're done already?" He pouted before leaning down to kiss you savagely. "But I still want more..."
His lips were lower on your body, your jaw, chin, throat and chest before he looked up at you with his baby blue eyes, begging for you to accept another round.
"A-alright, I guess we can go for another round."
Steve smiled at your response. "That's the spirit." He sat straight and wrapped a hand around your awakening cock. "I see you have no difficulty on growing hard for me, again..." He lined himself with the head of your cock, you could feel his wet and stretched entrance full of your cum from your first orgasm. Steve slowly started to sink on it, letting out a low, long moan of pleasure. It wasn't hard for you to go all deep in one go, the cum inside worked like the perfect lubrification.
"You feel amazing, Steve," you groaned, your hands resting lazily on his strong thighs.
"I feel so full inside, hmmph... I love that feeling..." Once he was ready, he started to bounce a little. "Oh... hmm..."
You just laid back and enjoyed the show, a handsome man, so perfect, so wonderful, was giving you the best ride you ever had, and probably would ever have in your life. His plump red lips were parted in a small 'o', his eyes were closed, you could see better his long eyelashes, his cheeks were red, blushing and his hair was a mess with sweat, stuck on his forehead. What a beautiful man, fucking himself on your cock.
"Oh gosh..." Steve's hands moved to your chest as a support when he started to bounce faster, the mess of cum, juices and sweat was forming a pool on your pelvis, drooling down your thighs. The slapping of skins came back, louder than during the first round, it was disgustingly delightful to your ears. "Ah..ahn!"
"Fuck... don't stop moaning..."
Steve moved a bit to get more comfortable and went back to riding you like no tomorrow. With the way he was bouncing, accompanied by his weight, you were sure you'd end with shattered hips at the end of the day. But you didn't mind.
"Ah! Ah fuuuuck!" He clenched so tight and his cock throbbed as ropes of cum came out from his hard cock. "Ah! Ah shit! Shit!" He kept riding through his orgasm, his legs quivered, threatening to surrender. "Right there! Right-unghh!" His orgasm came to an end, but not his thrusts, he dragged his hips in circular motions. "My prostate... right there..."
He went harder on you, the bed started to shake under your weights, creaking sounds made their presence know as well as the head of the bed hitting the wall.
But Steve was too far to care.
"St-Steve.. ah! Slow down.. oh... the neighbors are going to hear us..." you said, worried. Steve had a good reputation with the neighbors, you didn't want to ruin that for him.
However, the blond man didn't listen, too focused on hitting that sweet spot inside him. He was driven by sex, wanting nothing but to satisfy his needs as he used your cock as his new personal dildo. Steve did the whole opposite of what you told him to do, he went harder, faster, deeper, abusing his prostate, moaning louder.
He grabbed the headboard and unconsciously cracked the edge of it from how tight his grip was. "Shit! Shit! Shit fuck! Ah! Make me cum! Make me cum hard!"
You could barely hear his words, it was foggy inside your head, you couldn't even keep your eyes open. You reached another level of pleasure, one you didn't think it was possible to achieve. A pressure could be felt at the base of your cock, then a tingling sensation at the tip; you were close.
The grip on Steve's thighs tightened painfully, and it seemed Steve loved that pain.
"Ah! Ah! Y-hungh! You're close...? Haa..." he asked as he looked down at you with feverish eyes. You nodded, words couldn't be formed anymore. Steve bit his lower lip, happy with your answer, and made sure you give harsher bounces to quicken that orgasm. "Inside... cum inside me again... haa... I promise there's room for more..."
As if his words were a spell, your body released another orgasm, a loud strangled gasp was heard from you while your balls emptied inside Steve.
Steve's mouth was open in a silent moan. He lowered down and kissed you deeply.
"Let's do it again..."
"What-?"
"Shhh..." A finger of his shuched you down as he sat, lifted his hips and pulled your cock out of his stuffed hole. "I want you to stuff me so good I can't even walk properly...."
You were slightly horrified by that man's stamina, he was still demanding more after two orgasms.
"But... I just came two times..." you said with a little trembling voice.
"Come on, Y/n..." He scooped some of your cum with his finger before sucking it clean. "I know you have more in there..." Then he cupped your balls on the palm of his hand, giving them a firm squeeze.
Your cock throbbed, interested, betraying you thoughts.
Steve moved from on top of you and turned around, facing away from you before showing his stretched hole full of cum that was drooling down his white thighs.
"You want to give me more... right?"
Yes.
You came a total of three times, now going through the fourth round. Your balls were slightly hurting, but you couldn't stop thrusting inside Steve who was under you as you pinned him missionary style.
"Such a dirty man you are, Steve! Haa! Ah!" You held his legs wide open over his chest as you kept pounding his fucked up ass full of cum.
"Yes! Yes! Fuck! Ah! Ahn! Fuck me up, baby!" Steve's chest was a mess of his cum, your cum, sweat, and probably saliva too. But he didn't care at all, the look of wrecked suited him so well.
With a swift move you turned him on his stomach, spanked his bubble butt and shoved your cock right back in with a harsh thrust, making the blond man whine loudly on the pillow before biting it hard. With each thrust, he'd whine like a whore, wanting and begging for more.
"Yesh..! Oh yesh... hmmm!" A dumb, stupid, fucked, wrecked smile adorned his ruined angelical face full of lust. "Fuck me uuupp..."
"You love that?" you asked, panting, before giving another harsh spank on his bouncing cheeks. "You love that, hmm?"
He cried, nodding his head repeatedly. "Yessh... I lof thaaat..."
You pulled your cock out for a moment, admiring the view of Steve's wide open, stuffed hole full of white cum. You spat in it before stretching it more with your fingers. Steve whined, missing your cock, he was so ready to beg for more, to demand you to shove your cock back inside him. His needyness was turning you on so much, couldn't resist it and had to pound inside him again.
Steve's cock shot another load of cum, this time weaker than the three last ones.
"Nghh..."
"Don't worry baby... I'm close too..." Like a dog, you gave quick and precise thrusts, feeling your fourth orgasm building.
"More... more cum..."
You tried to go faster, almost lost balance for a moment. "Yes... so close..." The fourth orgasm was harder and slightly painful, your balls were tired, completely empty. You bit gently Steve's shoulder to muffle a loud moan while Steve kept biting the pillow, hole clenching with each pump of cum right inside his filled guts.
Both of you stayed still, coming down from your orgasms. Slowly, you pulled your cock out, it slipped easily. Cum came falling down like a small river down Steve's wet thighs. The blond man collapsed on the bed, breathing hard, fully satisfied by now.
Your eyes were glued on his ass, it was beautiful the mess you've done of him.
"Steve... can I take a souvenir?" you asked as you reached down to your pants on the floor and grabbed the phone from the pocket.
Steve blinked slowly, taking his sweet time to register your words.
He noticed the phone in your hands, and understood what you wanted.
"Mhm... sure..." He opened his asscheeks for you shamelessly.
You smiled, loving the sight. You opened the camera in your phone and pointed at his perfect, wrecked, stuffed hole and took some pictures of it. When you decided for one, you made it as your wallpaper for your phone, loving it, you were going to keep it for a good while.
When everything was set, you collapsed by Steve's side and pulled him between your arms to which he responded by hugging you around your waist.
"Hmm... thank you..." he mumbled tiredly, before closing his eyes and falling asleep on your chest.
You had to leave his house and come back to yours at midnight, making sure to not get noticed by one of your neighbors as you didn't want to raise suspicions.
The next day after that long, intense and hot session with your neighbor, you came back to your backyard to take care of your garden.
You glanced at your kind neighbor's house, hoping to see him in his room, but he was nowhere to be seen. For a moment you didn't mind, until the loud banging on window could be heard from the other side of your fence.
Recognizing the sound, you grinned and went to glance over the fence, and as predicted, there was your sweet neighbor Steve, fucking himself back on that transparent suction cup dildo against his window; giving you the perfect view of his still stretched hole that you ruined yesterday.
You admired the view with a soft smirk. Steve noticed your presence over his shoulder and grinned back at you as he kept thrusting against the toy while holding eye contanct with you. The window started to get foggy against his smashed, perfect ass, giving the perfect lewd sight for you. It was as if his hole was kissing the glass.
Steve pulled back from the toy, opened his cheeks exposing his hole and stretched the ring of muscles with two of his fingers before mouthing at you "Don't be shy".
_____________________________
Tag list:
@vibrantsavagerydoom
@gay-marvel-evans-fan
@wrathfulkeyreservoir
Word count: 4.6k
Right now it's 10pm, 19th, but I also want to post it a bit in advance because... I'm impatient to post. So happy birthday in advance, dear anon.
UPDATE: I forgot the part where Steve texts reader to come outside, I apologize dear anon. If you still want me to add it, just let me know and I'll modify the text.
What if you made the mistake of indulging your Prince just once? He just seemed so needy, you didn't want him to run off to some tavern for a fling with some commoner. So you offerered your help. Just used your hands, brought him pleasure. Just to help.
But now it's a daily occurrence, whether you are on duty or not. He tracks you down in the midst of changing into your armour, making it take twice as long as you need to get him off first. Wanders in during your rest, practically wakes you for it. Like an animal in heat, seeking your touch at every opportunity.
Surely it's just that it's not enough. He must never be content. So perhaps just this once you'll use more than your hands. Maybe if you indulge him this time with your cock- he won't ask for anything more.
My prince thinking he's in control, maybe getting a little too proud of himself thinking he corrupted me so subtly I don't even question that it's still not breaking my vows to serve him.
Yet it's still me leaving my door open so he gets a good look at my squire getting up close and personal with my armor, his fingers struggling with the leather buckles, the way he glances up at me when he kneels so I can rest my leg on his thigh while he polishes my armor, until my prince gets so jealous seeing someone else get so close to me he can't resist ordering me to his chambers anymore. Letting his rage and jealousy flare up like it's not the best opportunity to claim him without restraint when I finally indulge him with my cock. If he wants it so bad then he surely won't complain when I pin his wrists down and stretch him out further than anything he's tried to satisfy himself with before, not caring if anyone hears his delicious screams of pleasure.
He wanted to make sure I'm corrupted only for him so he definitely won't mind being turned into a cocksleeve every time his soft hands linger on my arm too long. And if he wakes me in the night too then I'll make sure he knows excatly how easy it would be to just tie him down and keep him spread out at my disposal all the time <3
[image description: the epic handshake meme. one arm is labelled gay people and the other is labelled lesbians. in the middle it says "fuck yeah bro". end id]
hey guys, quick reminder! this post is about uplifting other people!!! tags like 'ugh, but men are gross lol' or 'op has never met a man' are not welcome and will recieve an insta block! men are cool! women are cool! thank you for coming to my fucking ted talk! :-)
Characters: Dick Grayson x Speedster!MALE Reader
Summary: Dick has been in love with his Best Friend for years, almost as long as they've been sharing beds. What happens when they share a bed, and said friend starts vibrating in his sleep?
Warnings: SMUT! Reader is 'asleep', accidental stimulation(?), vibrator on male genitals, humping, dry humping, grinding, cursing.
A/N: Yo, I had to look at a diagram of a penis for this AND class. #PreMed. That's lowkey kinda crazy...hehe...anyways have some dick with your Dick!
Part 2 -> here!
Maybe this was punishment for all the sinful thoughts Dick has been having lately.
It's filthy honestly, shameful.
You've been friends since the start of his orphan days -which ouch- before Bruce had even officially adopted him. You were Bolt, the bright eyed, bushy tailed protegee of Barry Allen at the time - right besides Wally West, his other Best Friend.
The two of you grew up together, the two of you ate together, the two of you trained together, the two of you even slept together in the same bed.
Dick had always snuck into the guest room after Alfred went to bed, giggling about how slick he was, about how Bruce would never know and about how he was the best sidekick ever - Bruce confirmed five years later that Dick, was indeed, not slick.
Sharing a bed was a ritual between the two of you, natural, just another day in life. He would sleep in the same bed with you on missions, so why does he want to sleep with you now.
Dick tries to hide it.
He really does.
But the way your muscles ripple under your shirt whenever you move, the way your lashes curtain your face just perfectly, the way your chest looks -all sweaty and glistening- when you lift up your shirt to wipe your face after training, the way you manhandle thugs so easily when they try and get the jump on you - because honestly, he wishes it was him you were throwing around. And have you ever seen a speedsters thighs? Holy shit, they're huge. Toned, and sexy, and- And fuck- fuck, the way you look at him when he pins you down to the training mat, all pouty looking when your pinned under him, panting, red faced, with your shirt ridden up.
One of your drunk ex's mentioned once that you broke their bed by accident and he completely just blanked out, Donna telling him later that he had accidentally crushed the red party cup in his hand.
Dick wants to bang his head against the wall.
He's loosing it.
He's loosing his focus.
He's loosing his other interests.
He's at risk at loosing you.
Especially right now.
Because your pressed against him -warm, pliant- your chest hugging his back, your legs threaded with his. Your thigh pressed between his. The warmth of your breathe tickling his neck, arm locked around his waist like an iron chain.
And fuck him, because you're vibrating.
Like some kind of dog having a dream where it's running, you must be doing the same; because he can barely contain the whimper his lips threaten to let fall out whilst your leg acts as a living, human, vibrator. Your thigh lining along the underside of his cock, stimulating every ridge and vein, from the base to the tip.
He can't move, he just can't.
Your arm in locked around him, tight, unyielding, and the way the weakness in his legs climbs throughout his body - he knows for sure he can't escape. His brain soon becoming as compliant as his muscles as he shifts, trying to save his dignity, only to make your thigh buzz right against the mound of his tip.
A shuddering breathe leaves him, and he has to stop his back from arching, stop himself from moaning out, stop himself from grinding back onto you like some fucking hormonal teenage boy. Every shift, every time he moved, every time he even tried to make it so his cock wasn't weeping sinfully into the inside of his boxers, sullying both him and his mind -it only makes it worse. And he has to stop his hips from bucking against you -riding your thigh- when you shift in your sleep. Because your thigh is rubbing perfectly against his painfully throbbing dick, like your body already knows his down to the sweet spot next to his frenulum.
Your sleepy grumble rouses him from his heated state to just how stupid he's being.
Yet, he can only take it, his fingers curling blissfully into the sheets as his eyes squeeze themselves shut. Like if he closes them, all of this will go away. Like if he closes them, everything will go back to normal. You'll be at home, he'll be alone, and this will all be a big, bad, dream-
Does he want it to be a dream...?
The way his teeth dig into the plump of his lip almost painful from how hard he's trying to keep himself quiet. Because if you wake up, wake up to him moaning and wailing out, wake up to him rutting his hips and grinding down on your -stupidly overtoned- thigh. You'll most definately feel his cock, harder than steal, pressed against you; his balls tight and threatening to unload.
And they do.
Because you flinch, thigh driving into the thick of his crotch and Dick -and his dick- fucking looses it. Your thigh is pressed against his cock oh so perfectly, vibrating against every ridge, against every single vein. Driving against him like its supposed to be there. And he looses it.
He can't stop his body from jerking, thighs clamping around yours as his hips start up hurriedly. Rutting against your thigh like he's some filthy feral animal who can't control itself. His head throws itself back as he barely contains himself from wailing out, teeth drawing blood, and he bites down hard. Your forehead grazes the back of his head, hairs tickling his neck as he rides his high. Thick ropes and evidence of his sinful release unloading thickly into his underwear, sullying them with a wet spot he wouldn't be able to fix until morning.
And your thigh doesn't stop buzzing until it's all said and over, like it knows. It knows how lewd and wanting he was. Like it knew what he would do and how he would do it. Like it knew he would take this opportunity as it was.
Dick's panting, moans and whimpers as filthy as the drool running down his chin before his hips finally stutter to a stop. Even the biting chill of the Gotham air isn't enough to soothe the burn of embarrassment and shame creeping up his face right now, consuming his brain; just under the dazing fuzz of what seemed to be his ever lasting high.
He just dry humped his best friends thigh.
He just dry humped his sleeping best friends thigh.
Your peaceful breathing brings him back to that reality. The reality of him burning up, the reality of him just laying there, stuck till morning. Stuck with the evidence seeping through his underwear and sullying his inner thighs.
He bites the inside of his cheek, because he really was just stuck there; your arms locked around him, unless you decided to let go of him in your everlasting sleep.
How would he explain the wetspot in the morning?
How would he look at you in the face after knowing what he's done?
How would he train with you? Pin you down as this night replayed over and over again in his head.
How would he ever see you use your speed again, knowing that he used it to satisfy his own lewd-
"A-Ah-"
A breathy moan leaves his lip, sneaking past as his body arched up -tensing in arousing surprise. You started up again, moving in a slow and quiet buzz - barely felt yet prominent.
Dick groans when his cock starts up again, the soft appendage quickly hardening and coming to life as you shift against him. Dick closes his eyes, trying to use every technique Batman has ever taught him to keep his cool.
Think about dead puppies, Dick. Think about dead puppies...
He whimpers as he feels his dick begin to painfully throb from overstimulation.
It was going to be a long night.
And Dick is too preoccupied to notice how a lazy grin stretches across your face, resuming your fake slumber.
——————————-
(A/N: This picture was lowkey on my mind the whole time, lmao 😭)
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I love how some fics are called shit like "They Only Shoot The Birds Who Cannot Sing" and it's like the most insane porn you're ever read and then some fics are called Spit On Me and it's 18,000 words of the most achingly id-scratching prose you've ever read and they're both. They're both so fucking good. thank God for fanfiction.
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