Feeling domestic rn🤭
John Price and Reader whos good at cooking is the best pair that could happen.
John is a big man with a bigger appetite
Sure, military food is there and all that. But that's just it. It's military food. No soul, no love, and most importantly, no taste. It's just something to keep people up and running.
So who could blame him when he devoured your homemade, eggs, and hasbrowns in a minute.
Eating like he never ate (which in some case probably true)
Oh you couldn't finish your plate? He's there
Oh you made too much portion for two people? Invite the boys.
You made food? He's in love.
He would never complain if you suddenly asked him to fetch ingredients, he doesn't care if its in the ass crack of dawn. He will get you your soy sauce, garlic and salt cus whatever you do with those is worth the errand run.
He would be open to try foods outside the typical english dishes. Although I imagine him handling spice on a lower level only. That's not stopping him from tasting food you've made.
Of course, after every end of the day theres dessert.
So get on the table and let him have a feast.
if u are angry at another girl try pressing your boobs together competitively while u r covered in oil
EATING WELL TONIGHTTT
john who’s married to reader, who’s very comfortable in her home. even when the boys are staying…
the first time they came over and you did it, it shocked them to their fucking core. everything had seemed normal up until this point. you greeted them all with a hug, a kiss for your husband, and seat them all in the kitchen. beers and dinner placed in front of then within the next couple of minutes. what a sweetie…
you planted yourself on john’s lap, your plate next to his at the head of the table. your serving already dished up by your husband whilst you took care of his men. he feeds you from his fingers every once in a while, no one says a word when you suck his fingers after, cleaning them up with your tongue. that wasn’t even the craziest part…
no, it was the next morning when they were all sat at the dinner table again. john at the stove frying up bacon, eggs and all the fixings for a full english whilst you take your morning shower. everyone turns their head to greet you when they hear your feet padding down the stairs, only to shoot out their heads when you come prancing in, naked as the day you were born
except for john, who presses a kiss to the top of your head when you grab your coffee (already made by your husband) off the counter. simon, soap and kyle on the other hand, don’t know whether it’s acceptable to look at you right now, or if their captain expects them to avert their eyes for a minute
but then john sits at the table, same place as the night before. and then you sit at the table, also the same place as the night before. stark naked for all the lads to gape it. johnny’s eyes flicking between your tits and your husband, waiting for him to wake up from what must be a wet dream
but you pay no mind to the men gawking at the scene in front of him, your damp skin glistening as you sit on john’s thigh and chow down on your toast. your husband couldn’t care less about your state of dress as he reads through the morning paper, arm hooked around your hips and thumb grazing just below your belly button…
Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader
! Smut Warning !
a/n: i wrote this super quickly bc honestly i’ll never get enough of this idea however many times it’s done😭
-> drabble <-
"God, you feel so fucking good." Aaron groaned, his voice both hoarse and breathy as he thrust his hips in quick succession against your own, trailing the pad of his thumb over your pebbled nipple, the warmth of his body looming over yours as he toyed with the stiff peak.
“Aaron..” His name fell from your lips amidst a soft moan, feeling heat burn through your skin with each stroke of his hips against you.
"I know." He breathed, "Taking my cock so well, honey."
He thrust his hips quicker, splaying his large hands across your chest, squeezing possessively at your breasts as he ran his opposing hand from its grip of your hips to your bare ass.
"That's my good girl." He practically grunted, warm skin smacking together. Purposeful in his teasing, Aaron rolled the hardened peak of your nipple between his fingers, pulling a shaky moan from your mouth.
"Fuck, yes.." You whined back arching in a plea for more - his touch somehow both firm and tender against the sensitivity.
"Such pretty tits, darling." He praised, hungry gaze running deep as it wandered back between your thighs. His cock twitched between the pulses of your walls as he absorbed the sight of him disappearing inside your cunt, your arousal soaking his shaft.
As your teeth punctured into your lower lip, a blaring ringtone escaped Aaron’s phone as it lay atop the beside table.
"Shit." He hissed, eyes flitting to the number that presented itself on his screen.
"Aaron.." You begged, "Please don't- fuck- don't stop.."
Your words sent heat pumping through him as he kept up the pace of him without fail, teeth gritting in response to your plea, his jaw tight with conflict. After the passing of a few short moments, he seized the phone in his hand, shooting you a stern look as he swiped his thumb over the screen.
“Hotchner.” He spoke, clearing his throat as he brought his rhythm to be much slower, assuring the sound of your skin colliding wasn’t audible over the line.
Your eyes widened in an instant, the thrill of it only heightening your arousal. You breathed softly, trying your absolute best to remain quiet as you heard a male voice mumbling on the other end of the exchange.
With his remaining hand, Aaron slid the pad of his thumb upward from your breasts, sliding it messily over your lips as he silently mouthed, ‘Open.’
Suppressing your desperation to make a noise, you parted your lips and allowed him to slide the pad of his thumb against your tongue.
"Have you sent the files over?" He inquired, keeping his voice impressively steady as he moved slowly against you.
Satisfied whimpers fought to escape your throat as you pushed them down, feeling Aaron’s thumb pressing against your tongue. Without the need to be told, you wrapped your lips around the thick digit, muffling yourself around his thumb as you watched him clutch the device against his ear.
His eyelids shut for a brief moment before he forced them open again, clearly struggling to hold back as he felt you squeezing him. The sight of you certainly didn’t help either, cunt full of his tauntingly slow thrusts as you sucked sweetly at his thumb, only nearing his release, “Alright. Be there soon.”
The very moment the phone beeped and the call cut, Aaron let out a frustrated groan. He wasted no time in picking up the pace of his hips once more, dragging his now damp thumb down your chin, “You did so good for me, honey. Now show me how loud you can be.”
Really Rally posting PURE GOLD
from rally: This was written for the beautiful, talented, absolutely amazing soul @silvernight-m for our holiday gift exchange. I had no idea that being in a fandom would be such an important part of my life, and you're such a huge part of that, my friend.
I admire your courage, honesty, and humor. Please scream at me any time you want because I ALWAYS LOVE IT!!!! Thank you for sharing a corner of your life (and pictures of your pets) with me. Also, I went ahead and pasted a mustache on that Jake photo b/c that's how we like 'em.
Summary: Jake & his mistress have a loving, kinky relationship (~1.8k)
---
“Jake, this isn’t a punishment if you ask for it.”
He groans. “I can’t help it. I see you, and I start begging.”
Jake is tied to the bed with Steven’s old restraints. Each of his ankles and wrists snugly secured and pulled apart. Completely at your mercy. The way both of you like it.
You stand at the foot of the bed, arms crossed. “And in your expert opinion, what punishment do you deserve tonight, Jake?”
His cock twitches, already hard and dark, leaking onto his stomach as he lays there helplessly. You’re still dressed in your sweater and pants.
“Don’t know if you noticed, but I grew out my mustache exactly how you like it.”
You walk up the side of the bed slowly, lean forward to give him a gentle pat on the cheek. “And what do you expect me to do with it?”
His hooded eyelids blink at you. “Ride it, mi amor. Obviously.” He licks his lips slowly, pulls at his restraints as if he’d forgotten, for a second, that he’s tied up. “As many hours as you want.”
He grins up at you, but it fades quickly when you don’t respond in kind.
You hold his chin in your hand a little too hard.
“You seem to be forgetting your manners,” you say, steel in every word.
He swallows. “I’m sorry, mistress.”
“Good boy.” You stroke your fingers over his mustache with a sigh. As much as you want to do as he asks, you can’t give in to him. Can’t let him call the shots when he’s the one immobilized and at your mercy. “Jake, do you like touching me?”
You move forward onto the bed, kneeling over him enough so that he gets a eyeful of cleavage.
“Yes, mistress. Greatest privilege of my entire fucking life,” he says.
You smile. “A privilege. A reward, maybe? But you said you wanted to be punished.”
Jake’s eyes dart to your face. He’s caught by his own logic and he knows it. “Uh, mi amor.”
You slap his cheek. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to sting. “No, Jake. You don’t get to act like a desperate little slut and expect me to indulge you. You do what I tell you. If I want you to bark, you bark. If I want you to crawl down the street naked, then you will. If I want you to fuck me until your dick falls of, then I’ll get exactly that. Isn’t that how this works?”
“Yes, but-“
“What the fuck did you just say to me? Were you going to contradict me?”
You back off the bed, standing straighter, looming over him.
“No, mistress. Or, yes, mistress. Fuck.” Jake winces, pulling at the cuffs for real this time. They don’t give. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”
“Louder,” you raise your voice.
“I’m sorry,” he almost yells. His chest heaves up and down.
You shake your head. “I’m disappointed.”
A little sound escapes him, almost a whine. His big, brown eyes plead with you. A curl of dark hair is already sticking to his forehead, the rest wild and tangled on the pillow. You tuck a second one underneath so his head is propped up. So he can see down his body and you, when you stand at the end of the bed again.
“Please, I’m sorry. I’ll do anything you want.” He’s calmer now, but you hear the edge in his voice. He needs it now. He needs you to treat him like only you how.
“I like the sound of that.” Your eyes trace his body, lovingly taking in his olive skin, how his muscles tense and tremble, his hips and thick thighs. They settle back on his cock. “That looks almost painful, Jake.”
“It is, mistress,” he pants. “I just want to please you.”
His eyes look down. He’s cowed now, gentler.
Sometimes it takes Jake a few tries to get into the right space to submit to you. But it’s fun for both of you, when you finally break him.
“I want to see you come,” you say with a sweet smile.
His eyes look back up, hopeful.
“Oh no,” you almost laugh, “I’m not going to touch you. That would make it too easy.”
“Mistress, I-“
“And you’re not going to touch yourself either.” You stroke one of his ankles, just above the restraint. “No, Jake, you’re going to lay there, just like that, and you’re going to come for me. If you want to act like a whore, then you’re going to come like one.”
His jaw clenches so tight you almost wonder what kind of argument he’s having with himself (or whomever). It’s not that he’s in pain. It’s not about comfort. He’s frustrated beyond belief. The night hasn’t played out like he wanted it to, and he almost can’t handle it. He doesn’t want to be the brat you’d accused him of being, even though he definitely is.
“You want to stop?” You ask, letting your voice get softer for a second.
He shakes his head, his curly hair brushing back and forth over his forehead. “No, this is fucking great. How’d I ever end up with someone as amazing as you?” He grins, breaking character for a moment before remembering his task, re-focusing. “Okay, mistress, for you, I’ll give it a shot.”
You frown at him. “You’ll do more than give it a shot. Or else I’m going to make you wear a ball gag whenever you’re fronting at home for two weeks.”
Jake doesn’t look scared, not exactly. It’s more anticipation. You can see him doing the math on it. Honestly, he’d probably like to wear the gag. You would too. It’s more fun this way, though.
In the end, he nods. “Okay, I can come for you.” He shifts on the bed. “Mistress, could you keep talking to me? Or yelling at me? The sound of your voice-“
“Would help you get off. So no, Jake. Stop whining and come. Make yourself a pathetic mess for me, baby.” You coo at him.
He hums in his throat, his hips moving ever so slightly. You can only imagine the dirty fantasies he’s conjuring in his mind as his heavy eyelids shut. You see the muscles of his ass clench, his hips rising and falling.
Jake makes a noise of frustration.
“Fuck,” he spits out. His hips sink back down to the bed. He opens his eyes, his breath heavy. “I can’t, mistress. I’m sorry.”
He looks so sad, so angry at himself, that you have to give in a little.
“What were you thinking about?” You ask softly.
Jake’s head shakes subtly.
“Tell me,” you order him.
“The other night. You were sucking Marc off, but you were wearing one of my white button-downs because you were cold. He was so hard on you because you wouldn’t take it off. Your face was a mess. You wanted him to go hard on you, and you wanted to wear a piece of me.” Jake swallows. His cock gets a little harder, so stiff it’s not even touching his stomach anymore. “Marc asked you if you wanted me to front. But you said no. You both did it to torture me. You knew I was watching. I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my life.”
His hips buck up. His head falls back down. He groans loudly.
“You’re right. I am a whore. For you, mistress,” his words barely escape his lips. They’re mostly air as he moves up and down against nothing. Sometimes the tip of his cock hits his stomach and he shakes from the feeling. “Fuck. Fuck. I’m coming. I’m coming for you.”
His hips push high as his hands grab the restraints. He pulls on them, his muscles going tight and flexing as he comes spurts of gorgeous, thick cum onto his own stomach. It drips up his chest, down over his sides, pools onto the bed.
Exhausted, he falls down onto the bed. He tries to catch his breath, a smile on the corner of his lips. “Holy shit, mi amor. Was that good for you?”
You let yourself smile back at him, reaching over to undo the straps on his ankles. “I can’t believe I just stood there and watched that. I wanted to touch you so badly.”
You rub Jake’s ankles, then move to undo his wrists.
“Are you okay?” You ask.
“Of course.” His hand cups your cheek. “Are you okay?”
You kiss him on the lips. “I do like your mustache like this.”
Jake shrugs. “I know. Maybe after my shower, I can take you for a ride.”
He wiggles his upper lip, making you laugh. He reaches into the nightstand for a towel from the stack he keeps there. He gives his body a quick wipe down.
“Why don’t you go lie down on the couch? I’ll make you a snack so you have something to do while I clean up and change the sheets,” he says.
“You let me do all of that to you, and somehow, you end up giving me aftercare? Doesn’t seem really fair to you, Jake.”
His dark eyes sparkle at you. He throws the towel into the laundry hamper one-handed. “You’re my soul, my love, my life. You took care of me so well tonight. Let me do something for you. Please,” he winks at you, “mistress.”
You roll your eyes at him.
“I love you, mi amor,” he says, leaning in to kiss you again. But instead of touching his lips to yours, he scrubs his mustache along your cheek. “I’ve got all kinds of plans for this mustache. New Year’s is going to be special this year.”
“You have plans? Jake,” you pat his shoulder lovingly, “that mustache and that face belong to me. This year, next year, every year.”
“I like the sound of that,” he agrees. “You’re going to have hard time topping last year, though, when you had me on my knees for an hour, starting off the year with my tongue-“
“Don’t you worry, Jake. I’ll have no problems topping last year. In fact, I think you’ll enjoy just how I’m going to… top... it.”
His dark eyes go wide in delight. He swings you around in his arms, planting a huge kiss on your lips. “You’re a hell of a woman.”
“I’m going to fuck you until you’re brain dead.”
He growls, squeezing you in his arms. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”
Jake settles you on the couch with a movie and your phone, whistling on his way to the shower. When he comes back out, you’re asleep already, but Jake doesn’t wake you. He unfolds a blanket, carefully lays it over your body and kisses the top of your head.
Before you, he wouldn’t have thought twice about going out, killing an hour by punching faces in. Now, though, he’s taking a night off. He settles on the couch, one hand on your sleeping body.
He’s happy to not have to guard every single traveler of the night. He wants to protect you, to watch you, to be there when you wake up. This year, next year, every year, just like you’d promised him.
MK masterlist :: main masterlist :: Join My Fic Taglist
-taglist friends-
@silvernight-m @sosa2imagines @myhohastuff @mangoslushcrush @twwcs
@clemdango04 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @daydream-believer19 @howellatme
@eternallyvenus @iolaussharpe-24 @spacecowboyhotch @bulletgoth @eternallyvenus
@minigirl87 @oscarssimp @oddballwriter @scarlettmoon98 @apesarecuul
@pigeonmama @miluiel1 @everythingbutresolved, @faretheeoscar @junggoku
@ominoose @alexxavicry @mandytrekkie @pygmi-cygni @ierofrnkk
@lucienofthelakes @lou-la-lou @blushingrn @ingoldthewizard @wilder-fangirl
@secondmissedshot @blushingrn @buckyssugarchick @mari-thesimp
please lmk if you'd like to be removed- i promise not to take it personally!
Summary: Will and Benny bring over Frankie and Santiago for dinner. For Santiago, it’s love at first sight. (~3k)
Contents: no smut, fluffy and fun, fem reader, sexual implications and jokes, this whole thing is group banter and flirting with Santiago, reader had one night with Benny a long time ago
-----
You almost kick the four of them out of your house. Almost.
Will had immediately picked up a football that your nephews had left at your house, thrown it to Benny, and broken a lamp.
Benny had made himself a cold cut sandwich and eaten half, even though he knew you were making them a huge welcome dinner.
Frankie got the other half of the sandwich. He’d apologized, but he’d still eaten it.
And then there was Santiago.
When Benny said he was stopping by for the night, you were thrilled. He said Will might come. Great. And surprise, two other guys are coming by too.
Everyone was welcome, you’d said. You had a spare room, an office with a pullout couch, and a living room sofa. You knew how to cook for an army ha ha fucking ha.
Francisco Morales, who is tall and shaggy and adorable.
Santiago Garcia, who is not as tall, in no way shaggy, and looks at you like you’re covered in gravy, and he’s going to eat you all the way up.
You kick them all out into the backyard.
On his way out, Santiago dares, he dares, to pretend he doesn’t have enough room to get by you while you’re at the stove. Has to lay his hand on the small of your back to squeeze by.
“Excuse me,” he says politely.
You tap the wooden spoon on the side of the spicy corn you’re frying. You point it at him. “You’re not fooling anyone, Garcia. Keep your mitts to yourself.”
He grins. He tilts his head like, you don’t want that. We both know it.
You jump when Benny’s big hand lands on your shoulder. “Oooh, sweetheart, that smells amazing. Gonna finally put some hair on Pope’s chest with that,” he says.
You look Santiago up and down. “You smooth like a Ken doll?”
He licks his lips, chin tilted up slightly. “Not everywhere.”
His dark, brown eyes lock onto yours. You look away first. Damn.
Benny reaches out and shoves Santiago’s shoulder. Half good-natured, half a little too hard.
“I told you not to flirt with her. She’s already doing all of this for us. She doesn’t need you slobbering all over the back of her neck.” Benny reaches for a roll, fresh from the oven, and you smack his hand. He hisses and shakes it out. “Be nice or I’ll tell Pope how you and I met.”
You shoot him a warning glare.
“I want two rolls before dinner,” Benny says, always angling for more food.
“No, you wait like everyone else.” You slide the basket further away from him.
Benny pauses, then looks at Santiago. “We had sex on prom night. We weren’t even each others’ dates. Which is also why she’s off limits to you. The four of us have a strict bro’s before-“
You clear your throat. “Rethink the end of that phrase, Miller Two. Or you’ll be eating saltine crackers on the side of the road.”
Benny grins. He puts his hands up and backs away.
“Out, both you,” you say.
Benny leaves, but Santiago slides up next to you. He stops short of actually touching you, but you can almost feel his body heat. The scent of him makes your mouth water.
“Let me help you,” he says, smooth and even. “I’m a good cook. I promise.”
Knowing he probably won’t leave you alone, you give him the spoon. At least this way, he’ll be occupied. “Stir that. Don’t burn my corn,” you say.
“I’d never let anything bad happen to your corn.” He stirs slowly, watching the pan. “I hope I get to eat a huge helping of your corn later. I’m sure your corn is fucking delicious.”
Corn should not be sexual.
But you guess Santiago Garcia never met a word he couldn’t make sound like an orgasm waiting to happen.
He shoots a glance at you from the corner of his eye.
Yup. He knows what he’s doing.
With a huff, you check the double-ovens. You’ve made not one, not two, but three pot roasts. And mashed potatoes. And stuffed onions. And the corn and rolls.
You figured four grown-men back from the jungle would ensure no leftovers. Also, you were glad to see Benny and Will alive and mostly uninjured and this was how you expressed happiness.
Although Will seemed to wince when you hugged his middle. You’d interrogate him later.
Of course, you were glad Catfish and Pope were alive and well. You’d only heard about them until today, but you almost felt like you knew them.
Or rather, Frankie seems to be everything you’d heard.
Santiago is a whole other kettle of… corn.
At least he works in silence. He puts in a little more salt, stirs, turns down the heat.
And then he just watches you.
Watches you take the roasts out of the oven and cover them to rest. Watches you check the onions.
“Stop doing that,” you say, gesturing to the glass-fronted cabinet on the other side of the kitchen. It was your grandma’s and still holds her good dishes. “Do you know how to set a table, or do you eat all your meals with a plastic spork?”
“It’s metal actually,” Santiago says seriously.
You almost laugh. Santiago’s eyes light up when he sees you unable to control a smile. He scratches the stubble on his chin, the sound making your stomach flutter.
“I’ll get Will to help. He’ll make sure everything’s in order,” Santiago starts to leave, but turns back. “Hey, I couldn’t get a straight answer out of Benny. You and he still…”
You roll your eyes. “Just set the table, Spork. Do something civilized.”
Santiago smiles. It almost makes him look harmless. “Don’t worry. For the right woman, I’m completely domesticated.”
“I very much doubt that,” you say as you watch him open your back door to call for Will.
Although, he’d been the only one to take off his boots at the front door without being asked. Something your mother always says to watch out for. Means a man has good manners and is thoughtful.
But what does she know? Your father hogs the bucket of popcorn at the movies and leaves empty water glasses all over the house.
But he’s still completely and utterly devoted to you mother. Still brings her flowers. Still pinches her butt when he thinks his kids aren’t looking.
Will nods to you when he walks in the kitchen. His blue eyes see everything. He silently asks if you’re okay. You nod back.
“So, you gonna let this guy stay for dinner?” He claps Santiago on the back.
“He wasn’t the one who broke a lamp.” You give Will a pointed look and he nods in apology.
Santiago opens your grandma’s cabinet and starts taking out plates. The porcelain barely rattles. He’s quick, but careful.
His muscled shoulders flex under his dark t-shirt as he reaches in for the bowls. The flowered china should look ridiculous in his hands, but he treats the set of dishes with as much care as you do.
By the time you realize you’ve stopped everything and you’re just standing there, watching him, Will is already smirking, tongue working around the front of his teeth. He picks up the stack of plates, shaking his head.
They clatter slightly.
Santiago points at Will. “Ay, be fucking careful. These look like antiques.”
You have to turn so they don’t see you melt into a puddle of steaming hot goo. Thoughtful, just like your mother said.
You corral Santiago and Will into helping you bring everything to the big, oval table in the dining room. They sit on either side of you.
If you thought it was chaos when they’d arrived, dinner is a 3-ring circus. The serving platters never hit the tablecloth. They inhale everything as soon as it’s passed around.
It’s very gratifying. You’d complain about them chewing with their mouths open, but you don’t because they’re complimenting you between every single bite.
“You guys are like a pack of dogs,” you say. “I mean that as a compliment.”
“She prefers animals to people,” Benny says to Santiago.
“The four of us have seen people do things animals wouldn’t,” Santiago says, breaking into a roll and slathering butter on it. “Hell, we’ve lived dirtier than dogs.”
Frankie points at Santi. “Correct. I have a picture from Afghanistan. Your socks were so gross, they stood up by themselves.”
Your face dissolves into disgust. “No. That’s horrible. This is a dinner table, Frankie.”
“Sorry, mom. Ma’am,” Frankie goes completely red.
There’s a beat of silence before everyone breaks out laughing. Even Frankie, though he looks like he’s in physical pain.
“In Frankie’s defense, we always kind of thought of you like Will and Benny’s family,” Santiago says. “Although now I know that you and Benny used to date-“
“What the fuck did you just say?” Will says, his jaw tight, blue eyes zeroing in on his brother.
Santiago’s face goes slack. “Oh shit.”
Benny’s fork clatters onto his plate.
“Careful with the china,” you yell at him.
“Sorry,” he says, then turns to Will. “We didn’t date. We just…” he motions with his fingers.
Will’s face looks like manslaughter, “no. Don’t tell me anymore.”
Santiago leans in. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.
You mime slicing your neck open with your thumb. His face relaxes again, amused.
You turn to Will, seeing how spooled up he is about the revelation that you and Benny had been more than friends once upon a time.
“Will? What’s the dumbest thing you ever did before you were 20?” You ask him.
His jaw works back and forth, his fork swiping through the food on his plate. “Couldn’t really say.”
“The dumbest thing I ever did was your brother, Benjamin Miller,” you say.
“Hey, why do I get hurt in this?” Benny says.
“Shh,” Frankie hushes him.
“It was once, the night we met, and it never happened again,” you say, passing Will the bread basket.
He takes it with a grim look. “We’re going to keep on pretending it never happened.”
“You’re the one who brought Loud Mouth Garcia to dinner. Can’t even keep a secret. How the hell were you ever Delta?” You say to Santiago.
“Persistence,” he says, brown eyes sparkling at you, “I’m a persistence predator.”
Benny clears his throat. “Hey creep-o-saurus-rex, pass the pot roast.”
Santiago picks up the dish and holds it out to Benny, his eyes still on you. “T-rex wasn’t a persistence predator, Benny.”
“Whatever, quit looking at her like you want to eat her out at the dinner table,” he mumbles, scooping food onto his plate.
Will takes a roll out of the basket and beans it off Benny’s head.
“I’m still gonna eat that,” Frankie says, reaching down where it landed on the floor and picking it back up. “Damn good meal.”
You take a moment to look around at this table full of ridiculousness. It’s almost like an out of body experience. Two guys who are like your brothers. One guy who apparently needs a mother figure so badly he’s willing to settle for someone younger than him.
And Santiago Garcia.
You’re going to have a hell of a hard time sneaking him into your room later. Never mind that you can tell he’s going to make you come your brains out at the top of your lungs.
Will taps your foot under the table. He grins at you. “You missed us. Admit it.”
You act like you’re not sure. “I was having a really nice day until you and your chucklefuck friends showed up.”
“We can get hotel rooms. We don’t want to put you out,” Frankie says, his lost puppy eyes working exactly how he’d intended. “You’ve already done enough.”
“I want you all to stay. Trust me,” you reassure him. “I have 2 dozen eggs in the refrigerator for tomorrow morning and big plans for french toast.”
Santiago groans. “You’re going to put me into a coma. But before I go, please, marry me.”
Benny whistles under his breath. “Never heard Pope say the ‘M’ word before.”
“Dibs on Will for the wedding party,” you say, looking at Santiago out of the corner of your eye.
“Okay. I’ll take Benny and Frankie,” Santiago says.
You eye his plate. “Did you like my corn?”
“Fucking loved it.”
You hear chairs pushing back from the table. You and Santiago’s eyes break apart.
“I’m taking my plate outside. You two are making me nauseous,” Will says.
“Right behind you,” Benny picks up his plate and the dish of pot roast.
Frankie looks torn, but eventually gives in and stands too. “Give us a holler when you’re done.” His face gets pink. “Not like done, doing anything. I don’t think you’re going to do it right here. But it’s your house. If you want to.”
Will sighs. “Catfish, quit while you’re not even ahead.”
Santiago stretches his arm out on the back of your chair as the other guys make a quick exit. His fingertips brush lightly against your arm.
“So,” he says, “were you just giving Will and Benny a hard time or are we really doing this?”
“I don’t know. Are you all talk? A flirting for sport kind of guy?”
You’d gotten that impression of Santi, from some of the stories you’d heard. But in person, he doesn’t strike you as shallow or fake. You always trust your gut about people. And your gut says to trust Santiago.
“I’m not flirting. I’m not hunting,” he says. “I’m just, talking to the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.”
You can’t breathe for a few seconds. Those words, smooth and warm, his serious eyes and the corner of his mouth still raised in half a grin.
Santiago’s hand brushes your hairline at the back of your neck, then settles onto your skin, ever so slightly massaging your muscles.
“Will you let me take you to dinner tomorrow night? Away from these ‘chucklefucks,’ as you so lovingly said.” His fingers wind their way down, into the collar of your shirt, where your shoulder and neck meet.
“Well, to be clear, I was also including you in that group. But, yes, I’d love to go out with you.”
Santiago looks visibly relieved. Something about his confidence, how it’s both real and also a complete front, makes you want to hold onto him. Keep him.
His fingers pull back. He brushes his knuckles over your chin. Before you can do the same, feel the scrape of his five o’clock shadow on your fingers, Frankie comes bounding back into the dining room.
“Sorry for interrupting,” he rubs his hands together nervously, “do you have any ketchup?”
Your happy mood disappears. You glare at Frankie. “You tell Benny that if he puts ketchup on my pot roast, I’m never cooking for him again. Also, don’t let him make you do his dirty work, Frankie. You’re a grown man.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Frankie says with a grim smile. “What about the potatoes, though? For me. Not for Benny.”
“Fine. Refrigerator, top shelf,” you roll your eyes. “I always thought Will would’ve kept you guys in line.”
Santiago leans back in his chair. He looks at home already. “Will doesn’t like to interfere. Man of few words. Benny got all the talking in that family, not that I need to tell you that.”
It’s a little bit amazing to you, that he can sit here in your house like he’s been here a million times before, talking with you like you’re already together, about men you both know, but under very different circumstances.
His dark eyes sparkle at you, looking you over. “I used to think you were pretty, in the pictures Will or Ben would show us. You looked happy. It was nice to see someone having a normal life while we were over there, not being normal. It was good you sent that stuff, pictures and food and whatever.”
“Oh yeah? And who was sending you photos, and whatever?” You ask him.
“Mostly the Playboy Corporation,” Santiago grins. “I’m kidding. No one, actually. My family sometimes. No one like you.”
He’s so sweet you can’t believe this is the same guy you’d heard Will and Benny talk about for years. The smooth talker. The face man. Pope, who probably wouldn’t ever settle down.
No, this is a man who’s wanted to settle down for years. He just wouldn’t settle for less than exactly what he wanted. Which, it seems like, is you.
“Hey.” You give in to your number one urge and run your fingers through his black and silver curls. “How about I ask the guys to clean this up, and you and I go out for dessert? There’s a really good ice cream place downtown.”
Santiago’s face lights up like the fourth of July. “Only if we can get it to-go. We can sit in my truck and neck afterward.”
“Deal. We can ask Frankie to babysit the other two,” you laugh.
His hand finds yours, his fingers linking through and raising your hand to kiss your palm.
“Think we can still do this in ten years?” He asks.
“Do what?” You ask, confused.
“Go out for dessert, just the 2 of us, and leave the kids at home with Frankie.”
“Wow, you really go all in, don’t you, Garcia?” You smile.
“For you, yeah,” Santiago says. “I’ve worked my ass off, for what feels like every day of my life. This is the one thing that’s ever felt easy. Love at first sight.”
Your heart flutters, then drops right in front of him. You can’t help it. He’s right. Like he knows you feel it too, he leans in, like he can’t wait for this first kiss.
His soft lips press against yours.
And bang! There’s a huge crash on the table as mashed potatoes fly everywhere. Onto your clothes. In Santiago’s hair.
“Oh shit, sorry,” Will shouts from the kitchen.
A football sits squarely in the dish of potatoes.
“We’re not bringing them home any ice cream,” Santiago says, but he’s all smiles anyway, pulling you in to finish what’s still a perfect first kiss.
Santiago Garcia masterlist :: main masterlist :: Join My Fic Taglist
-taglist friends-
@silvernight-m @sosa2imagines @myhohastuff @mangoslushcrush @twwcs
@clemdango04 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @daydream-believer19 @howellatme
@eternallyvenus @iolaussharpe-24 @spacecowboyhotch @bulletgoth @eternallyvenus
@minigirl87 @oscarssimp @oddballwriter @scarlettmoon98 @apesarecuul
@pigeonmama @miluiel1 @everythingbutresolved, @faretheeoscar @junggoku
@ominoose @alexxavicry @mandytrekkie @pygmi-cygni @ierofrnkk
@lucienofthelakes @lou-la-lou @blushingrn @ingoldthewizard @wilder-fangirl
@secondmissedshot @blushingrn @buckyssugarchick @pear-1206
please lmk if you'd like to be removed- i promise not to take it personally!
UGHH buying a specially made strap for him😋😋
Content Warnings: Subby!Silco, GN!Reader, oral (reader receiving), oral (male receiving), fingering (reader receiving), p in v/a sex, begging, dom/sub, edging, pegging/Silco getting fucked, cum permission
Obviously NSFW below the cut!!
• To cut to the chase, giving head is undeniably one of his his favorites, there's nothing quite like it.
• Your ass hanging off his desk and his head buried between your thighs, he'll stay there for hours.
• Orgasm after orgasm he begs you to let him keep going, to taste you more.
• "Please, sweetheart, one more. Please please please, I know you're so tired but I just need more of you, this is the last one. Mmm, god, you taste so good..."
• His hands are busy as they'll ever be, one holding your thigh and the other making quick work of his cock as he edges himself through the whole thing, not cumming until after he's done with you and you tell him he can.
• He'll beg for that too.
• "Please, let me cum, please, oh- fuck! I'm so close, I did so well, will you let me cum?"
• He loves to finger you, to watch you squirm when he crooks his fingers just the right way; he certainly loves hearing you call out his name and praise him for his work.
• Sex leaves him fucked-out and it's beautiful, watching how disheveled and utterly speechless he is as you ride the life out of him or as he fucks his cum into you.
• Will beg for you to ride him, and he takes full advantage of the perks when you do, holding your chest and touching you constantly.
• Fucking him (w/ dick or strap) is a surreal experience, seeing such a strong pillar of Zaun leadership reduced to a twitching, horny puddle that will do anything for you to fuck him until he can't think.
• He squirms a lot, readjusting his grip on anything he can find, rutting his hips against you, there's too much energy in it for him to stop moving.
• The noises he makes are completely insane, nothing one could ever imagine coming from Zaun's Kingpin Industrialist.
• Moans and gasps, sometimes whines and higher-pitched cries, feral sobs and babblings of your name to not stop, go faster, harder...
• "Oh my god oh my godohmygod! Keep going please oh my god keep going! Just like that, make me cum, please- ah!"
• Will do anything to have your mouth on his cock, but he almost never asks for it, it's always a reward, but he loves the feeling.
• Will throat fuck you if you let him and despite the control you give him in doing so, he still only cums with permission.
• "Thank you, oh my god thank you. Ha! Do that again with your tongue p-please- oh my- fuck!"
• Calling him "good boy" induces a surprisingly physical reaction along with likely a whimper or moan, but he won't say he's your good boy.
Switches🔛🔝
Can we please talk about why there isn't more smut of Twice? Like, he is built, for one. Total hunk. Weird as hell too which is just my type. But he's also an actual sweetheart who I can see being a very generous lover.
I bet he'd be shy at first, probably a little surprised you were pursuing him. He can be pretty dense when it comes to things like this so you had to make the first move. But when you lift his mask to pull him down into a kiss, it doesn't take him long to succumb to that primal hunger, and he's manhandling you as he pushes you up onto the counter, doesn't even care if someone walks in.
God is he so fucking eager to have you in his hands like this. You've got him about to bust in his pants with the way you're moaning into his mouth, how you're begging him to touch you. Anything you want, he's not denying you whatever you ask for, so he lets his hands map out each and every curve of your body, relishes in the way you shiver when his fingertips bite into your flesh.
"Here?" There's a shake to his voice as he asks this, rubbing the ache between your thighs, "You want it here, too?"
Obviously, this man is a switch. He aims to please so whatever you want that day he's doing it. He's just as happy to bend you over his bed and fuck your wet little cunt raw as he is to have you riding his face and calling him a good boy. All he wants is for you to fall apart, say his name, let him make you cum as many times as you'll allow him to.
You'll be riding him, using him as you please, and he's whimpering underneath you as you tighten around him like a vice.
One second he's a mess, all fucked-out and moaning, "please, fuck--mmmff--keep going, just like that," and the next thing you know, he's bucking up into you until he's on top, tossing your legs over his shoulders as he grits, "you thought I was done with you, princess? Gonna have you taking my cock 'til I'm shooting blanks,"
Coming back to this bc I genuinely fucking heart sub silco sm😍
I WILL fuck that old ass man
THE BAAAAD TOUCH!
synopsis. there’s a very thin line between the way animals fuck on the discovery channel and the way you fuck them. featuring shameless, rough sex with the arcane men, and a third secret option at the end. jayce, vander, silco, viktor.
tags. top! reader, sub! jayce, vander, silco, viktor. reader has a cock. rough anal sex, creampie(s), exhibitionism, infidelity, cumslut! jayce, doggy, riding, size difference, huge cock, belly bulge, size queen! viktor, sweat kink, strength kink, breeding kink, implied marathon sex, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, excessive amounts of manhandling, age difference, established relationships. cock-hungrified men. (lmao)
a/n. inspired by this song from bloodhound gang.
“does she know?” you pant into his ear, grip strong and sweaty on his hips, and jayce feels dirty, the way he’s being mounted like a bitch. “does she know about the way i fuck you? the sounds you make when i fill your pretty hole up?”
he shudders, shaking his head, nails raking down your biceps as he tries to lift his head, to be less vulnerable in the way you’re taking him, but to no avail. he feels the hot burn of your palm at the back of his neck, and he finds himself back with his cheek pressed against the sheets, back arching with the violence of forcing his body to accommodate both pleasure and pain plowing away at his dignity.
“fuck!” he gasps, “let’s not, nnngh! talk about this. not, not right now.” it’s not the first time you’ve brought mel up in a conversation, but hardly ever more than an offhand comment, something to tease, something for fun. this… this was unknown territory.
“why? you don’t like it?” there’s a strange displacement in your voice, a touch whiny, as though you were pouting at his denial. jayce thinks he’s going insane, because as manipulative as you were, there was no way he could say no to you. not with that look on your face. the one he can’t see but knows it’s there.
“doesn’t matter,” jayce whispers. “it’s not ri- right.”
you want to laugh. it’s not right? so it’s all right and just if he sneaks into your bed almost every other night for you to get him off simply because said girlfriend never could—nights of sweat and sinful lovemaking that end with him sneaking out of your room with a limp—but it’s not okay if you want to talk about it? how was that fair?
“you don’t like her anyway, do you?” you mutter. “you should just get rid of her and be with me.” you tighten your hold on him. you want it to bruise. you want him to go home with your marks on his body. you want mel to ask about them and jayce squirming as he tries to think of a stupid excuse to fool her again. faulty gym equipment. sparring session gone wrong. you know all of his excuses. it’s funny, the way he tries to patch things up. “this is cruel… to the both of us. don’t you wanna get this over with?”
“it’s- unh, complicated!” jayce moans, but there’s nothing complicated about it, he just doesn’t want to talk. doesn’t want to feel the shame and guilt making his guts tangle and heart pound—the way you fit into him so perfectly, so innately, like you’ve always belonged inside him, a missing piece to his puzzle.
he bites back a whine as the thick head of your cock pushes against his swollen prostate, and he’s not sure if he can even feel his legs at this point. it’s humiliating, the way you’re cooing nasty words into his ear, handprints branding his hips as you tug him up only to slam downwards against him, pushing him further down into the mattress with every heavy thrust.
“why? what’s keeping you then? hah. don’t tell me. does she fuck you like this too?” you snarl, sucking hot purple bruises down the column of his neck, salt and iron underneath your tongue making you hungry, and he keens. “so desperate for cock you’d let your girlfriend fuck you, jayce? well? does she fuck you as good as i do?”
“noo,” jayce slurs, shaking his head, “nothing’s as good. you’re the best. love it. love you.”
“really?” you bark out a laugh, and he nods dumbly, like his body’s conditioned to respond to your every whim, wanting to please, to serve. “well, i don’t see it at all. only thing you could ever be in love with is my cock.”
“ah- ah, yeah, that too,” he whines, “love you more.”
“liar,” you growl, and he sobs out at the way your length drags across his walls, thick and girthy, missing his prostate on purpose. it’s a punishment, jayce knows. he’s sorry. he feels so guilty. “pretty slutty liar. you’ll do anything to get stuffed, won’t you? even if it means cheating on your little girlfriend. you’ll even enjoy it, the moment you break her heart.”
jayce shakes his head, tears blurring his vision. he can’t even say anything at this point, with the way you’re forcing him to take, fucking the words out of him. he can’t help being addicted to this. it’s too good. mel would understand, wouldn’t she? she would, if only she could have a taste of it. it’s not his fault. not really.
“you probably think she’ll never know. you probably think she’ll never find out.” you’re talking again, but the sounds buzz by, barely intelligible. jayce swallows, letting your accusation wash over him. he has been careful, hasn’t he. surely she won’t know. surely she can’t know. “the way you start crying when you’re about to cum. you think she’ll never know about that, right?”
he doesn’t know what you mean, but it’s so hard to think. there’s wetness on his cheeks and the low flame in his belly has blazed into a forest fire. he wants to cum. he needs it. he needs it hard and rough, bruises on his waist and hips and love bites on his collarbones, hard, heavy thrusts that make him feel dizzy and high and stupid, drowning him in the throes of pleasure that only you can give to him.
“please,” jayce begs, tears streaming down his face. “i want, ngh… ah, want your cum in me.”
and before he knows it, there’s the rush of hot cum flooding his hole, the sweaty press of your chest against his back, your hips trembling and bucking against his, and it’s so good it makes him see stars. but you don’t stop. it’s messy and filthy, and pure bliss when he feels you snake a hand into his hair and wrench his head up, rough and careless just the way he likes it.
his eyes roll back before his cock starts helplessly spurting at the sight of mel standing in the doorway, watching him being bred like a whore.
VANDER
. . . vander thinks he maybe maybe made a mistake, telling you to be rough with him. because this is exactly the kind of rough he likes.
“oh, fuck, sweetness,” he moans, arousal bleeding into his guttural voice as he arches his back and cants his hips backwards to receive your thrusts, taking you deeper inside, his ass bouncing every time you meet his hips with a wet, nasty ‘pap’. “t-thaat’s it, kid. right there, fuck, harder…”
he’s clutching his pillow tightly, waves of pleasure shackling him to the bed as you’re pounding away at his hole from behind. you’ve snaked a hand into his hair to wrench his head up roughly, and a low whine pushes its way past his lips, punctuated by a sharp, deadly thrust aimed at his prostate. he’s pretty sure his own cock’s rubbed raw against the sheets, spurting so much pre there’s a sticky, slippery pool underneath him—easing the steamy push and glide.
there are stars bursting at the corners of his eyes, threatening to consume his vision, and he can vaguely feel his toes curl and thighs spasm at every brush of your cock against his bundle of nerves. there’s sweat dripping down his face, a salty tang on his tongue, and he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, hearing nothing but his own heavy pants and groans, attuned to the rhythm of your thrusts. it’s too good. almost makes him feel young again. he’s halfway through his forties, and yet you’re fucking him like he’s twenty.
vander can feel your hands all over him, pressing heavy bruises onto the tender fat of his waist and hips, bodily dragging him back onto your cock every time you ram forward, making sure to put your entire weight behind it. the mattress is letting out horrible creaking sounds, the headboard of the bed slamming into the wall in perfect tempo, and the both of you are going to regret this later, but fuck, he doesn’t care.
it’s addicting. it’s violent. vander shouldn’t be enjoying this, but he is.
“fuck, love, y’er gonna make me cum already,” he chokes out, and it’s more of a drunken slur, really — there’s something about the way you’re treating him that makes him dizzy and weak at the knees. his fists are clenched, grasping at the bedsheets every time he feels like snaking a hand between his legs and jerking off to your thrusts. he wants to enjoy it, savour it—the way you’re taking him, pressing him into the mattress like you’re trying to break the bed before you break him, gaze hungry enough to swallow him up in your lust.
“go ahead and cum, vander,” you drawl, grabbing a handful of his ass before sharply spanking him across, the sting rewarding you with a full-body shiver. “i want you to cum like it’s your last night on earth.”
who the absolute fuck does this kid think he is, vander thinks, and he quickly buries his face back into the pillow because he knows he’s going to get loud. you’re insane. insanely bad at dirty talk, but your hunger makes up for it. he’s never liked dirty talking that much, but fuck, if you weren’t something different. cum like it’s his last night on earth? he really underestimated how greedy you were.
“cocky,” he wheezes instead, once he’s caught his breath, “y’er gonna, haah, hafta fuck me harder for that to happen.” it’s yet another bad decision, and he’s digging his own grave, he knows it. as if you aren’t already fucking him within an inch of his life—the bulbous shape of your cockhead digging into his prostate with such immaculate precision, pressing the shape of your handprints into his skin as you fuck him with your eyes, your hands and your cock.
hungry. intense. unforgettable. vander doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of it.
before he can even breathe, you’ve hooked one arm under his thigh, tossing him over onto his back like you’re flipping a fucking pancake, and vander’s not a delicate man by all means. without wasting a second, you’re pushing inside him again, groaning shamelessly as his wet, warm cave engulfs you perfectly. vander makes a desperate noise, eyes squeezing shut—there’s no pillow to muffle his cries or hide his expressions from you this time, but he’s far too close to be embarrassed.
the new position’s got you so deep inside him, and it’s getting harder to breathe, almost as though he could feel you all the way to his throat. it’s uncomfortable and very inconsiderate of his aching back, but the mind-numbing pleasure hammering away at his sweet spot makes up for it.
“s-so fuckin’ good, kid,” he pants out, arching his back with a moan as you reach down to grope at his tits, the muscles plump and soft with tender age, hole clenching around you tightly every time you tug at his perky nipples. his cock’s all leaky, drooling over his stomach and making a mess, and he’s so aroused it’s almost endearing. “fuck me… god, fuck me.”
he’s going to cum hands-free, vander thinks, and shit, you’re going to be so smug about this after you’re done with having your way with him. vander sneaks a glance at you—eyelids fluttering, making little grunts of pleasure every time you bully your way into his tight wet warmth. it embarrassingly makes the back of his neck burn, makes him feel all hot and sexy and wanted.
“yeah? best cock you’ve ever taken, vander?” you purr, and his breath stutters, seizing up with a yell and then he’s fucking cumming with you balls-deep inside him. guess you’ll take that as a yes.
SILCO
silco doesn’t know how long he’s been bent over in that same fucking position, but he doesn’t plan on making you stop anytime soon.
“darling, not so rough. . .” he gasps out, nails raking down the expensive wood of his office desk while you plow away at him from behind, his hole sopping wet but tight, as though you haven’t cum two times in him already. he can feel his knees knocking into the hard front of the desk with every brutal thrust, the weeping tip of his erection grazing the cool mahogany, the pleasure inside him making his lower belly burn with a flame he hasn’t felt in a long time.
“why?” you grin, draping yourself over his half-clothed stature, his pants yanked down to his ankles as he’s bent over to take. you shuffle forward, making sure his ass is pressed snugly against your crotch before giving an experimental roll of your hips, always reaching deeper, for more. “worried that they’ll hear?”
silco presses his lips together in a thin line, tilting his face away from yours, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he were sulking. you laughed. it was just too easy to piss him off sometimes.
“i’m just playing around, baby. your office is soundproofed, no?” you straightened yourself, running a hand over the smooth, sensitive expanse of his back before returning to your firm grip on his bruised hips. he gave a shuddering sigh, trying to relax as you started to rock into him again with strong, steady thrusts.
“it doesn’t matter,” he rasps, “we’re, hah, being too loud… sweetheart. s-sevika is right outside.”
“don’t care,” you mutter. “i’m pent up. ‘least you can do is let me fuck you stupid. you’ll let me, right?”
silco makes a noise at the back of his throat, half from displeasure, the other half from the sharp curl of arousal in his lower abdomen, making his cock twitch and leak. fuck if it didn’t turn him on when you talked to him like this. he settles for burying his face into his arms, preparing himself for whatever you were going to put him through.
“be gentle,” he whispers, letting out a shuddering sigh. “i’m not so young anymore.”
you could feel a grin pulling at the corners of your lips. yeah. sure, you were going to be gentle with him. with him looking like that.
“hngh, r-right there…” silco mewls out, knees buckling repeatedly as he tries not to think about how loud he’s being. he supposes he could gag himself with something, your fingers, maybe, get them warm and wet for you while you use his face as leverage to fuck him harder, but he knows how much his noises spur you on, and right now he really doesn’t want to piss you off. not when you’re indulging him so well. “that’s it… you’re so good… darling.”
“not so shy anymore?” you hummed, licking a hot stripe up his neck, his gasp twisting into a whine. “think we can make you louder?”
“sweetheart,” he sighs as he feels your hand wrap around his throat, and he tilts his head back to let you grip it properly. “you already know what i want.”
“well, i don’t think so.” you smile, leaning down to press your cheek against his, working away from behind with short, firm thrusts that steal his breath away. “remind me. did we use the magic word yet?”
but just as he’s about to answer with snark, there’s the rap of fists against his office door, and silco feels his heart plummet. not now, when things were about to get good—this was the worst timing possible. “everything alright, boss?”
“yes,” silco pants, “fuck… yes.”
you can feel his nails dig into the back of your thigh, warning you not to pull out. you’re thick and heavy, resting against his stomach, and silco feels so fucking good and full. you can’t stop now. not until he’s had his fill. he can vaguely feel your warm seed trailing its way down his perineum in a slow trickle, and fuck, he wants more. wants to feel stuffed even without you inside him, drowsy and content.
he blinks, brows furrowing as he catches himself fantasizing about you yet again. should he even be having thoughts like these in his forties? was this healthy? sex with you was life-changingly—and now apparently hormone-alteringly good.
“sir?” sevika’s growl interrupts his train of thought. and yeah, not to mention—his second-in-command is right outside his office, while all he can think about is cock. shit. your big, leaky cock, buried to the hilt inside his hole. he wonders if it’ll be gaping once you’re done with him. and oh. cum. loads of your cum, filling up every inch of space inside him. making it hard to breathe. making him swel— “is someone in there with you?”
“yes,” silco wheezes dumbly as you roll your hips against him with meaning, forcing him to take you deeper. he trembles, shifting back slightly to fuck himself on your cock, forcing a sharp inhale from you. “we are busy. you’re, oh… dismissed, sevika.”
the silence is loud, save for the almost-silent squelches of your cock maneuvering inside him with all the cum stored in his belly.
you can feel his heart pounding from the way your chest is pressed against his bare back. or maybe it’s your own. his walls squeeze around you, sinfully tight, pulling a muffled moan from where you have your teeth sunken into his shoulder. fuck. he’s—silco’s actually into this. you’d have never guessed he would be such a freak, for lack of a better word, but with how things were going . . . you didn’t mind it. not one bit. it drove you crazy with want, if anything.
“... if you say so, boss.” the sound of retreating footsteps fills you with both relief and disappointment, but before you could even process what that means, you can feel silco gazing at you through his lashes, low and scrutinizing and something needy.
“did i say you could stop?” silco grunts. “fuck me.”
you let out a shaky sigh, hips already bucking back into the warm mould of your cock—and the next sound that drives past his lips is a loud and unabashed sob of your name.
you think you might have unlocked something new in your lover.
VIKTOR
“it won’t fit,” viktor slurs, moans tumbling out of his mouth as he gives a shaky roll of his hips. he’s not quite there yet, with only the tip sucked in, but he’s making good progress. “i’m terribly s-sorry, dear. your… appendage. it’s too big.”
his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your hands forming a ring around his waist, strong and firm, a warm assurance that there was a possibility… although slight, that he’d make it.
“it’ll fit,” you murmur, kissing the sensitive spot at the back of his ear, the one that makes him suck in a sharp breath and shudder. “you’re doing very good, love. just… a little more, yeah?”
viktor looks down. it’s nowhere near a little more. you’re barely halfway in and he’s already thinking about quitting—has been, since the stupidly huge head of your cock breached his rim, making him feel a stretch that no amount of fingers or plastic toys could replicate. it was something extraordinary. overwhelmingly so.
“please,” he mewls, forehead dropping to rest on your shoulder. “t-touch me? i think i’ll probably, hah, ease up a little if you would… oh, yes. thank you, dear. thank you.”
it’s… in simple words, too much. you’re usually very considerate, taking your time with him with your fingers, rubbing on his tender walls until he loosens enough for you to slip another one in. the night would then end with you fucking his thighs, sticky and slick with his own cum. it’s good. it’s enough. that was until he started having thoughts of what it would feel like if you were inside him.
but viktor would’ve never imagined it would be like this. the difference in size was just… comical. you were so deep inside him already, the impossible girth forming an obscene bulge over his abdomen, making him whine with the fullness. if this is already what it feels like to have you inside, then just what would it feel like to have you spill inside him?
he can’t lie—he’s spent nights waiting for you to fall asleep first so that he could scoop up some of the cum you had missed on the sheets, quietly fingering himself with the cold slickness. it didn’t feel right, even if it was yours. it just wasn’t the same. he wanted, no, needed to feel it for himself.
it doesn’t help, the way you’re stroking him, ever so gentle with him. your huge palm covers his entire length without having to move much, huge thumb rubbing at his leaking tip, and viktor’s never been so hard before in his whole life. he’s so close already, hole fluttering around you uncontrollably, and it’s almost cute how it looks like it’s going to swallow you up. maybe it is.
maybe it’ll fit.
“last few inches,” you pant, fingers trembling slightly where you’re struggling not to press bruises into the cup of his hips. “can i-? please, vik. it’s so good. you’re so good. i just need a little more. please, baby.”
“yes,” viktor blurts out, before he realises just what he agreed to—but within the next second he can feel something abnormally large pushing its way past his tight walls, faster and rougher than before, even as he tries to clench and hold still—it’s mean and a little too much, but then the back of his thighs meets hot skin and he nearly blacks out with the stretch of it all.
“ngh,” viktor keens, trembling with exhaustion as he tries to settle into your lap comfortably with such a large intrusion within him. “soo full…”
you sigh in pleasure, hands going back to his hips where they belong, pushing him down until you’re satisfied that he’s properly taken everything you’ve given him. it’s not a demand, viktor thinks, more like a comfort. telling him that you’ve always known he would’ve been able to take you in the first place. that this is where he belongs, filled to the brim with you and you only.
he lets out a shuddering moan when you start to slowly bounce him on your lap, lifting him up with ease a good inch or two, before rolling your hips to meet his, pushing yourself deeper. “shit, vik…” you groan, and he cries out with every brush against his prostate, the sheer size of you making it impossible to miss it. “you’re so tight, baby… so perfect. i’m right here with you, okay? easy now, you’re doing so good.”
you’re so good to him as always, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, but it’s different this time, and fuuck. viktor thinks he’s dying with how good it feels. he tries to steer his hips, to actually ride you instead of having you manhandling him up and down your cock, but there’s hardly any friction left now that he’s properly stretched, and any attempt results in him collapsing back to his knees, the pleasure making him weak.
he settles for hanging onto you, arms wrapping around your neck and choking out little whimpers as you rock upwards into his waiting hole again and again, toes curling and nails scratching red trails down your back with the all-consuming pleasure.
it’s driving him crazy, the fullness, the simple thought of you pumping your seed and sperm into him, of making love with you. it’s nothing like the way it was written in the textbooks he had spent nights researching—it’s beyond anything he would have ever imagined.
“please,” viktor sobs out, feeling strangely empty every time you pull out halfway, as ironic as it was—as though there was a chance you would leave him fully. the thought of it hurt. if only you could fit inside him forever. if only. “stay…” he cries, “cum inside. m-make me yours.”
you lean forward, pressing your lips against his in a hurried kiss, at the same time grinding so deep viktor thinks, for a split of a second, that that might be you he’s feeling in his stomach. the broken wail he gives is loud and muffled, and you lap up the drool on the side of his face, watching as your lover’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling of being filled, properly this time, to the brink of spilling.
masterlist!
Butch positivity post for
💖butches who take estrogen 💖
💖Butches who use she/her pronouns exclusively 💖
💖Butches who voice train💖
💖Butches who get breast augmentation 💖
💖Butches who get facial feminization surgery 💖
💖Butches who get vaginoplasty💖
💖Transfem butches in who do none/any/all of the above.💖
You are seen, you are loved, and you are no less valid as a butch or as a lesbian.