Chuck Forgive Me For This (x)

Chuck forgive me for this (x)

modern warfare 2: ghost (comic series)

🗲 issue #1 🗲 issue #2 🗲 issue #3

• your love is king🔥 ➣➣part II🔥 • body worship + praise kink • sub!könig🔥 • triumvirate [ft. simon 'ghost' riley]🔥 • butt stuff🔥

• i want you to want me🔥 • call me any, any time🔥 ➢➢johnny comes home🔥 • relationship headcanons (sfw and nsfw) ➢➢more (sfw and nsfw)

• the captain of my sea🔥 • magic fingers🔥

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julietta67

2 years ago

I disagree. Ghost holds hands when he is eating you put to.stop you from squirming so much

A/N: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader. Oral. Wet stuff. He’s nasty.

Outside of their “moments,” Ghost won’t touch her unless he has to. He maintains a professional distance, and a part of her longs to stake her claim. Hold his damn hand, so the team understands how he gets on his knees for her or allows her to ride him.

He’s a legend to them. A myth. The lone wolf whose kill count is in the thousands.

How many?

I don’t count ‘em.

Oh?

I don’t lose sleep if that’s what you’re asking.

They needle her, poke fun because she’s a woman, and it’s just so damn easy. Ghost never does, though. Ghost treats her like he treats everyone else with cool, stoic regard.

Except when he fucks her. There’s that.

***

It’s an uneventful night. The rest of the team is playing poker around a plastic card table. There’s smoke in the air from cheap cigars. Whiskey that’s sticking to her throat as she downs it. She leans against the doorway; arms crossed firmly over her chest. She should go to sleep.

“Duchess.”

There he is. That voice matches the cigar smoke. It’s thick and impenetrable, and it licks up her spine. She feels his broad chest against her back, the heat of his bulk, and she wants the others to turn around and catch them. Sure it would appear like their lieutenant is simply chatting with her, but if they looked closely, they’d see...

He lowers his head so that his breath grazes her ear. “Needy, are we?”

She bites her lip, shutting her eyes. “No.”

“You may not believe I watch you, but I do.” If possible, his voice becomes even lower, dragging over gravel and full of suggestion. “I think about the sounds you make when I got my tongue inside you.”

She shudders, thighs squeezing together. Ghost’s pelvis shifts against her ass, and she restrains herself from leaning into his massive warmth.

“It’s bloody distracting,” he exhales. “Tryin’ to give orders when all I can see is that wet little cunt in front of my face.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“They don’t see how I look at you,” he continues. “But that’s because it’s mine. What we do...what we have...that’s all mine, darling.”

She buries her nails into her forearm until it hurts. She glances at him over her shoulder, and he’s staring straight ahead like he hasn’t just confessed an intimate truth. He’s so close she can discern his blonde lashes, his deep sea eyes. They flicker toward her.

“Ghost,” she murmurs as he draws closer.

***

“Simon,” she moans, hips rolling against his face. He’s shoved his mask above his nose as he blows cool air against her cunt. He parts her folds and nudges his thumb against the swollen nub as she clenches down on nothing. His touch is practiced as he strokes and teases her. He slips his fingers inside her pussy before removing them.

“Duchess,” he replies flatly, a flash of amusement like he enjoys wrecking her with as few gestures as possible. He holds her thighs open before he lowers his mouth and slides the flat of his tongue against the seam of her sex. She jerks, her foot knocking into the hard muscle of his torso.

“Easy, now,” he croons. “Stay still so I can eat you the way I like, yeah?”

One broad palm slaps gently against her inner thigh and pins it to the mattress. He sinks back down and buries his face into her pussy, lapping and sucking with a deliberate rhythm. He feasts, switching between his tongue and fingers. He crooks them inside her, thrusts in time with the soft sucks on her clit. There are the wet noises of her walls contracting around him. Ghost’s rumbling sounds of contentment as he tastes her.

“Red,” he warns when she bucks against his face and potentially breaks his nose against her lower belly.

“I can’t-I can’t help it,” she pants, and he sighs. It is impossible with the way he’s pulling pleasure from her. She feels like a naked branch in a storm, shivering and snapping against a glass window. Her muscles tense, her thighs twitch, and she can’t find leverage on this shitty cot.

Finally, she feels warm flesh brush against her knuckles. She glances down as Ghost threads his thick fingers through her own. His hand dwarfs her fist as he pins it to the mattress. It anchors her body and allows her something to hold onto as she straddles the oncoming climax. She’s leaking all over him, slick running down her ass and staining the sheets. It encourages him. His hips grind into the bed, his pupils blown out as he watches her shudder; it feels so good.

His thumb draws little circles against her hand as if to comfort her through it like this was a challenging task she had to win, an endgame for a mission. Her lungs are screaming - her heart thumps wildly against her ribs as the pleasure builds like a chemical reaction. Shocking. Overwhelming.

Tears prick her eyes. She swallows a sob as his stubble scorches her skin, his silky plush lips maneuvering against her cunt like he’s memorized it. Perhaps, he has. He's got a photographic memory, he handles her like he handles every precious weapon in his arsenal.

It’s coming - the pressure inside her core begins to cramp and fold until it slams right up against Ghost’s insistent mouth.

“I feel it,” he groans as her walls spasm and her pelvis stutters against his chin. He tightens his grip on her hand, his other fingers sliding in and out of her soaked heat in an even, lazy drag.

“It’s - fuck - it’s too much,” she whines, and he doubles his pace, prepared to shove her off the damn cliff.

“You’re a big girl, love,” he coaxes. “You can handle it, yeah? I know how good you are.”

That’s enough. Ghost’s praise that he hardly ever gives to anyone. It shoots her straight between the legs, where her cunt pulses and throbs like a wound. There’s so much pressure before everything is liquid. She feels wet, dripping, and when he rises to his knees, she is all over the lower half of his face.

He grins, straight, white teeth burning in the dark like a a crescent of stars, and she is momentarily stunned. She’s never seen him smile, or his teeth for that matter. She wants to lick them, taste them, and swallow him whole. The corner of his lips twitches like he knows what she’s thinking before he rucks the ski mask back down over his chin that’s gleaming with her slick.

She sits up abruptly, reaching for him. “You can’t-”

“I can,” he grunts, flipping her onto her side and slapping her thigh. “Get your pretty ass dressed. We’ve got wheels up in thirty.”

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julietta67

7 years ago

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy" - SUPERNATURAL REMIX

dangerous game

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Summary: Following Bucky’s orders was never your strong suit. But when you sneak out when there’s a threat, you learn that sometimes it’s best to listen.

Warnings: pet names [princess], a smidge of angst, a bit of fluff, smut; mention of non-con (not by Bucky), unprotected sex, allusion to oral (f recieving). THIS BLOG IS 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI.

Author's note: because I can’t seem to focus on one thing at once I finally got around to finishing this. This was born from the gif because damn he looks so good. (word count: 1.9k)

"You're playing a dangerous game, princess," Bucky growls into the phone.

"Yeah? Well it's a shame you're going to lose then isn't it?" You counter, rolling your eyes at your friend who can’t stop giggling.

You know it isn’t the smartest of ideas sneaking out when Bucky has specifically told you to stay in tonight but at this point, you were finding it hard to care. Being cooped up for the past week was driving you crazy. You’d grown up with empty threats your whole life thanks to your father, the majority of your childhood and teenage years were sheltered and you’d be damned if you let your twenties go the same way.

“Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you and we can put this behind us,” Bucky grits through his teeth.

You can picture him right now, jaw clenching deliciously as he tries his best to stay calm. Riling him up is your favourite game to play.

You wink at your friend before giving Bucky your final words, “eat me, Barnes.”

You end the call, throwing your phone back into your purse before linking arms with your friend and heading inside the crowded club.

After a couple of drinks any underlying guilt you felt at sneaking out had dissipated. You let the beat of the music take over as you danced with your friend, easily catching the eyes of some men across the room. You grind playfully back into your friend, throwing a wink at the cute guy who couldn’t take his eyes of you, only breaking eye contact to turn to your friend.

“I’m going to head to the bathroom, I’ll be right back!” you shout over the music before heading off the dancefloor.

You were so used to having a bodyguard with you, you hadn’t even thought to keep aware of your surroundings. It isn’t until you’re dragged into a dimly lit storage room that you realise the position you’ve put yourself in.

“You’re a hard little thing to get alone,” a voice growls in your ear, your front pressed harshly against the wall, your hands in a tight grip behind your back.

“Get off of me,” you shout, struggling in the man's grip.

The chuckle he lets out has your stomach churning in fear, “you’re a feisty little one, I like that.”

Your panic only grows as you feel him press into you harder, feeling his erection against your ass, it only has you struggling more.

He whips you around so quickly it has your head spinning, one hand grips your wrists, pinning them above your head as the other takes a tight hold of your jaw.

The smell of cigarettes on his breath has you gagging as he speaks, “now, my boss doesn’t care what state I deliver you in, as long as you’re alive, so I'd suggest you behave.”

Your eyes widen as you stop struggling to get out of his hold.

“Not as stupid as you look are you,” he snarls, “you’re a pretty little thing though, might just have to have some fun anyway.”

Fear surges throughout your body. You know you can’t overpower him but you refuse to just accept what’s about to happen.

In a last effort of defiance you spit in his face, “fuck you!”

The smirk that stretches his chapped lips is nothing short of evil, “oh I plan to.”

You scrunch your eyes shut as he leans in, the feel of his tongue against your cheek has a broken sob escaping you. But, as soon as you feel him pressed against you he’s gone.

Without his body to keep you upright you slide down the wall to the floor, hugging your knees tightly as you keep your eyes tightly closed.

You can hear commotion until it all goes quiet. Yet you’re too shaken to open your eyes.

“Princess, it’s okay.”

At the sound of Bucky’s voice your eyes shoot open. The man that had grabbed you is laid unconscious in a heap by the opposite wall and Bucky is crouched in front of you, his eyes wildly scanning over you.

Without a second thought you fling yourself into his arms, your tears finally escaping as your body shakes with the force of your cries.

“Shh, you’re okay, I’ve got you. You’re okay,” you hear Bucky’s voice whisper to you softly, his hand soothing up and down your back. You grip onto him tighter, the leather of his jacket scrunching in your fists as he lifts you gently and carries you from the room.

By the time he has you in the back of the car your crying has stopped and a quietness settles over you both. Without looking you know his eyes are constantly flicking to look at you in the rear view mirror.

It’s not until he’s gotten you home and into your room that you finally speak.

“I’m sorry.”

You can tell he wasn’t expecting that, his eyes widening slightly as he sighs, running his hand down his face.

“This shit is exactly why I need you to listen to me,” he says slowly, you’re not sure if it’s to keep from scaring you or to keep his anger in check.

“I know,” you whisper.

“I’m not trying to clip your wings here, princess,” he sighs, sitting next to you on your bed, “but when I say there’s a threat, it means there’s a threat.”

“You don’t have to pretend to care about me, I know it’s your job you care about,” you snap. Your shock and fear slowly morphing into anger and embarrassment at the situation.

His breathy chuckle surprises you almost as much as his next words, “you clearly haven’t been paying attention, princess,” he murmurs, cupping your cheeks in his large hands as he guides you to look at him.

You’re so used to seeing Bucky with a frown on his face - let’s face it, you don’t make his life easy - that the softness he’s levelling you with now is hard to digest.

“You’ve got me all wrong if you think I don't care about you.”

Your eyes widen at his admission, your heart pounding in your chest for a whole new reason. You can’t help as your eyes flick from his eyes to his lips, your tongue dampening your own in the process. Bucky’s eyes watch the movement and his eyes seem to darken.

The two of you move almost in sync as your lips press together. He holds you with such a delicate touch, as if afraid you’ll break, and as much as you appreciate it, it’s not what you need right now.

You make the move to straddle his thighs, your hands tangling in his hair as you press your lips harder against him - hoping he’d get what you need. Yet, his hands rest gently on your hips.

Pulling back breathlessly you rest your forehead against his, “please make me forget, Bucky.”

He pulls back from you slightly, tucking your hair behind your ear, “princess, are you sure about this?”

You nod meekly, “I don’t want to feel his touch on me.”

Those are all the words Bucky needs to hear before he’s flipping you onto your back swiftly. His lips descending on yours in a passionate kiss as he slots himself between your thighs. The short dress you’re wearing settles around your hips but you don’t have it in you to feel shy as his lips scorch a path down your throat.

“Fuck, princess, thought about this moment for so long,” he grunts, his fingers trailing up your bare thigh before pressing down on the front of your silk panties.

Your back arches at the contact as you tug on his hair to pull his lips back to yours.

Bucky rubs you over your panties, swallowing the small whimpers coming from you.

“Please Bucky, need you,” you sob.

“Yeah, want my fingers, princess?” he teases, pulling your soaked panties to the side and groaning at how wet you are.

“Want your cock,” you plead, too wound up to feel embarrassed by how needy you sound, “please fuck me.”

You clench around nothing at the growl he lets out as he sits up quickly. He shrugs his leather jacket off, the black t-shirt underneath clinging to his muscular form. You watch as he undoes his belt, not even bothering to take it off before he’s pushing his jeans down just enough to release his hard cock.

He smirks at the whimper you let out at the sight of him as he leans back over you, resting his weight on his metal arm as he grabs his cock. Your body jolts slightly as he taps the head on your sensitive clit.

“You ready, princess?” he whispers against your lips.

You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling his full weight onto you as you kiss him again, only parting from his lips when you feel him start to push into you.

The stretch is delicious and you can’t stop the groan that falls from your lips as he slowly pushes into you fully.

“So fucking tight,” he grunts above you, his breath fanning your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

The low growl he lets out as he starts pulling back goes straight to your core as you clench around him. You’ve never felt so full, so complete, so safe.

He pushes back in with a harsh thrust that has your back arching. The pace he sets is rough and fast - just what you need.

You grip onto his shoulders, holding on as he pushes your body to pleasure you’ve only ever dreamed of.

“Fuck, yes, right there,” you chant as he hits your spot with each thrust.

“You like that, princess?” he grunts, his flesh hand wrapping gently around your throat - not enough to restrict your breathing but enough to send your heart soaring. “Gonna have to keep you stuffed with my cock to stop you running off.”

You whimper against his lips, “won’t do it again, I promise.”

“I know you won’t. Can’t lose you, princess.”

He kisses you with a ferocity that has you mind spinning. Your grip on him tightening as you come closer to your end.

“Shit, Bucky, gonna cum,” you pant.

When his metal digits reach your clit it sets your whole body ablaze. You clench around him like a vice, causing his hips to stutter as he cums with a groan.

The two of you lay there for a moment. Bucky’s face is tucked in your neck and you can feel his panting breath against your sweat slicked skin.

“I mean it, you can’t do that again,” Bucky whispers after some time. The vulnerability in his voice has guilt stirring in the pit of your stomach.

You give his hair a gentle tug, hinting at him to look at you. When he does you rest your palm against his cheek, smiling at the way he leans into your touch.

“I promise, I’ll listen. It won’t happen again.”

Seemingly satisfied with your answer he leans down to capture your lips in a soft kiss before he sits up between your legs with a smirk, pulling his softening cock from your aching hole.

“Well, now that you’re taken care of, I have a request to fulfil.”

You watch as he grips your panties, pulling them down your legs before spreading your thighs further, keeping them open with his shoulders.

“Buck, what are you doing?” you ask hesitantly.

He looks at you with a glint in his eye, “I seem to remember you saying ‘eat me, Barnes’.”

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this slice of bodyguard!Bucky ❤️ as always, comments and reblogs are super appreciated ✨❤️

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julietta67

2 years ago

talk with my hands, maybe take it real slow (jake seresin x fem!reader)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)

Synopsis: Jake's roommate has a new tattoo and can't stop itching at it...what kind of friend would he be, if he didn't help distract her?

Warnings: this fic is 18+, minors please DNI – we go pretty quickly into smut, featuring the usual--explicit oral sex (both receiving, bc we're feminists like that), and then also PiV sex, including but not limited to, condescension, overstimulation (bc what's the point of fiction if we're not wringing multiple orgasms out of our self insert?) and creampies (do not have unprotected, unnegotiated sex pls)

Length: 7.8k

A/N: sorry about the moodboard being lacluster; I couldn't find a tattoo pic that wasn't on a size 0 thigh or white, so we went without

You hadn’t considered yourself to be a person with particularly awful self control, but then again, you’d never had a tattoo healing on your inner thigh, driving you mad with the need to scratch at it. It’d been 3 weeks since the appointment and your ink was probably 95% healed; the redness had faded entirely and a couple raised patches of roughness were all you had to show for the fact that it was new. Which somehow made the incessant need to itch all the more frustrating, because you were pretty sure it was mostly phantom at this point.

“Listen, honey, you gotta chill.” Jake’s voice interrupted your inner monologue, from his seat on the couch across the living room.

Your roommate had started in hard on the Southern pet names when he’d seen that they’d flustered you. Honestly, there was precious little the man wouldn’t do, if it meant making you unnerved. You two didn’t have what you’d call a friendship, but the playful Something between the two of you felt safe and fun. Even if it did mean that Jake seemed to take a little more pleasure than he should’ve, in the face of your pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you replied drily, “are the literal thousands of abrasions on my skin irritating you?”

Jake rolled his eyes at your melodrama. “I can feel you thinking from over here, and it’s taking up real estate that belongs to Maya Hawke,” he gestured to the TV where the latest season of Stranger Things was playing.

“It itches,” you mumbled, hearing the complaint in your voice and knowing it was pathetic, but too over it to care.

Jake cut you a long look, like he also heard it, and was embarrassed for you. “Want me to get you some ice?” he asked, and it was sweet of him to offer, but…

“We’re out of ice,” you sighed. “I went through the last two trays in, like, record time, and they’re refreezing now.”

“We have like fourteen trays,” Jake frowned.

“Yeah, well someone,” you paused meaningfully, “drastically depleted our resources when he decided to have a bourbon tasting over the weekend.”

Jake had the grace to look guilty for a moment. Then it was his turn to sigh dramatically, lifting his arm to the back of the couch and swatting at the cushion next to him. “Alright, kid, c’mere.”

In retrospect, you probably should’ve asked why, or at least deliberated for half a second before doing what he asked. In reality, you pushed off the settee you’d been lounging on, and flopped ungracefully onto the couch next to Jake. You shared a bathroom with the man and he’d seen you on the second day of your period; dignity was a distant memory.

Still, it didn’t prepare you for Jake pulling your legs apart with one of his large hands, and spreading his fingers over your tattoo, all while calmly turning up the volume of the TV with the remote in his other hand.

“Jesus, Jake,” you choked out, telling yourself the goosebumps erupting over your whole body were entirely because of your surprise, and not any other reason. “Buy a girl a drink first.”

Jake chuckled, somehow managing to shake his head at you while not looking away from the TV. “You’re the one who’s always telling me my hands are cold as ice.”

Had you said that?

It sounded like something you’d say.

But Jake’s hand on your leg felt anything but cold. Okay, no, if you separated your brain from—well, from anything—you could recognize that his fingers were quite cold, and it was incredibly soothing having them over you. His thumb was brushing lightly over your skin, while the rest of his hand stayed still, and you knew that ice cubes couldn’t do that, but damn, it would’ve been great if they could. You settled back into the couch, relaxing into the soft material and the relief brought by Jake’s hands.

It was a wonderful two minutes.

Good to know that that was how long it took for the fourth law of thermodynamics to kick in, and for Jake’s fingers to warm up after extended contact with your skin.

Then a new problem was presented—you couldn’t scratch at yourself without scratching him. You shifted slightly, to see if you could get any type of friction, but Jake’s touch was light enough that he moved with you. You snuck a glance at Jake’s profile, still fixed on the TV screen, and his expression could best be described as incredibly pleased with himself.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” you muttered accusingly.

“Absolutely,” he said, smugly. “You could fidget up a storm over there, but here you have to just deal with it.”

You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from sticking your tongue out at him petulantly. You folded your hands in your lap, determined to ignore the rising propensity to scratch at yourself. At some point, you’d sunken into the couch until your shoulder was pressed against Jake’s arm, and you shifted so your cheek was resting against him too. His tshirt was soft, and he smelled clean, like a freaking linen candle, which was annoying, because it didn’t help clear the riotous tangle of thoughts rushing through your head.

You did stop fidgeting, though.

“Atta girl,” Jake said quietly, his thumb still moving over your thigh.

Was it hot in here?

It had to be hot in here.

Because this was Jake, your roommate, who’d never shown an ounce of interest in you, being calm as anything with his hand literally on your thigh, and saying things that would’ve sounded like come ons from anyone else.

You tried to focus on the TV, and whatever ridiculous shenanigans the children on it had found themselves in, pulling a deep breath through your nose.

(Immediate mistake, because of said linen candle bullshit).

On the TV, Nancy’s hair got frizzier, Steve’s life got shittier, and all the while your leg was getting itchier and itchier.

You reached to press a hand over the skin distractedly, forgetting momentarily that Jake’s hand was there until you encountered his fingers instead of your skin. He turned his hand over, his knuckles pressing against your skin while his fingers intercepted your own.

“Where’re you going?” he asked, voice lightly mocking, and you wrinkled your nose. It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t affected, his hands so close to your burning skin, and he still had the wherewithal to tease you for your poor impulse control.

“Jake,” you whined, trying to untangle your fingers, but his grip was unrelenting, “I’m not gonna scratch, okay, I just need to do something.”

He looked down at you, which you had to admit, was a hell of an experience when your head was practically on his shoulder.

He blinked slowly, looking at you closely before he opened his hands, letting your fingers go. You pulled your hand back, eyes closing in relief when you pressed them against your skin. It wasn’t as good as scratching, but the pressure helped, and you shifted your fingers—and your nail accidentally dragged against your skin.

Which was pretty much the worst thing that could happen, because it was like a tease and it shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, but you were half a second away from clawing up your thigh when Jake’s hand closed around your wrist again.

“Seriously?” he asked, amusement coloring his tone.

“Just let me,” you pleaded, trying to pull your wrist back. “It’ll take like two seconds and then it’ll hurt and I can stop.”

“You could also get infected or mess up the ink placement,” he said, and you stopped pulling for a moment.

“When did you learn so much about tattoo care?” you grumbled, and Jake chuckled again. It sounded different this close to him, deeper.

“When my roommate decided to mark up the inside of her leg,” he replied easily. “Now don’t you have a lotion or something you can put on this?”

“I do, but it doesn’t help,” you said, annoyed that he was right.

“Well, let’s at least try it, yeah?” Jake asked, and you rolled your neck, sighing.

“Fine,” you pushed yourself off the couch.

You felt Jake’s eyes following you to the bathroom, so you didn’t scratch at your leg, not wanting to hear more of his teasing. You found the jar of lotion, dropping back onto the couch as you unscrewed the lid.

“It’s just gonna be sticky and leave white marks on the couch,” you groused, looking confusedly over at Jake when he held his hand out. “What?”

“What do you mean, what,” he retorted, like it was obvious. “I’m not gonna let you do this; you have zero impulse control.”

You were too stunned to resist when he plucked the lotion out of your hands, dipping his fingers into the jar.

Had you said that the worst thing was an accidental nail brush against your tattoo?

That wasn’t true.

Because the actual worst thing was having to sit there, pretending everything was fine and normal, as your ridiculously hot roommate started spreading Aquaphor on your inner thigh.

Jake was nothing if not thorough, his long fingers smoothing the cool lotion over your skin, pressing slowly into you and fucking kneading into your thighs, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was that he was entirely serious. Gone was the teasing condescension, the knowing look, and in its place was an unfamiliar gentleness.

Jake’s head was bent, some of his perfect hair falling in front of his eyes, as he properly tended to your leg like he was a nurse and these were doctor’s orders. Like he wanted to be absolutely careful as he looked after you, like looking after you was even something he did. You swallowed, forcing your breathing to remain even.

This was fine, this was normal.

This was absolutely not complicating the tenuous relationship the two of you had, and wasn’t causing you to read into the pet names, the caring, the fact that his big hand was literally between your legs.

He had to stop, or you had to stop, because now was not the time to be thinking risque things about your roommate, not when he was genuinely being sweet and trying to help.

“I think that’s good,” you said, hoping Jake couldn’t hear the tremor in your voice.

Jake tipped his head to the side, considering his work, then nodded to himself, satisfied. He rubbed his hands together, wiping the excess lotion on the backs of his knuckles, and screwed the lid of the jar back on. You were readjusting on the couch when he leaned across you to leave the jar on the coffee table and when he shifted back, one of you messed up, because his forearm brushed against your chest.

“Uh, sorry,” Jake said quickly, “I wasn’t—”

He was interrupted, of course.

Because you could tell yourself you were fine, everything was fine, all day long, but turns out that the slightest, accidental brush of Jake against your breasts had an ungodly whimper spilling out of your mouth before you could stop it.

He froze.

Shit.

“Shit,” you said aloud, hands covering your face in embarrassment, “no, I’m sorry, that wasn’t—uh, we can ignore that—I don’t know what’s going on with me, sorry to make it weird, it’s not your fault—”

You stopped babbling when Jake’s hands closed on your wrists, and, for the upteenth time that night, you let yourself be guided by him. When he pulled your hands away, your breath caught at how close he was, and the unfamiliar expression on his face as he looked between your eyes.

“I need to know right now,” he said, his voice serious as anything, “if you’re apologizing because you’re embarrassed, or because you didn’t mean it.”

You pressed your lips together, not trusting what sounds would come out of your mouth with Jake’s hands holding your wrists, and his eyes this intense. Whatever he read on your face had Jake’s lips parting, a shaking breath drawn in through them, before they thinned in a lazy smile.

“And here I thought I was the perv, taking any excuse to get my hands on you, darlin’, when you’ve been wanting me just as bad.”

Your jaw dropped at his blunt words, but what, were you going to say he was wrong?

Jake’s head cocked sideways when you didn’t say anything, and he guided your hands to the back of his neck, before letting go of them. Your fingers wound around his neck, the ends of his hair brushing your thumbs, and you realized he was waiting for you to say something before this—whatever ‘this’ was—went any further.

“Probably worse,” you admitted, not even trying to hide the breathlessness in your voice, “if I’m honest.”

Jake’s eyes darkened and his grin grew wider. “If that’s how honest sounds, I think I want to hear more of it,” he said.

Fuck, he was going to ruin you.

“Kiss me and find out?” you managed, and Jake huffed out a laugh before reaching for you again. His hands settled on your waist and he lifted to drag you towards him.

“Yes ma’am,” he whispered before his lips crashed into yours.

You were still reeling from the title, and how you liked the sound of it a little too much, but Jake’s mouth against yours drove that thought from your head. He kissed you like he’d wanted it for longer than you could’ve expected, his teeth biting at your lower lip, his tongue soothing after it. You shifted to help him as he pulled you towards him, both of you gasping when you settled in his lap. You were thankful his flannel pajamas could stand a bit of residual lotion, just as you were thankful for the pressure of his hands on your waist, fingers pressing into you and pulling you closer. Jake licked at the seam of your lips and you opened for him; when his tongue swept into your mouth, you felt it in your core. And suddenly, or maybe not suddenly, maybe finally, after months of build up, you were desperately needy.

Your fingers pulled through his hair, and Jake’s hips pressed up when you pulled lightly on the strands. At the motion of his rolling hips, your pajama shorts pressed tightly into your core and the friction felt like building, and Jake broke away from your mouth with a gasp. His hands tightened on your waist, holding you still, and while you appreciated his restraint, you wanted to feel him again.

You whispered his name as he trailed kisses down your neck, and your breath quickened when he found your pulse point under your jaw. Jake hummed, the vibration echoing over your skin, through you, and you realized he was muttering things against your skin.

“D’you know how hard these last three weeks have been,” he whispered, lips ghosting over your skin as he pressed kisses to new goosebumps, “with you always in those tiny shorts, saying it’s because you can’t have tight clothes over your tattoo?”

You felt lightheaded at the idea of Jake wanting you this whole time, maybe longer, locking it away and refusing to act on it because he didn’t know what you felt.

“It’s true,” you managed, and Jake laughed, a puff of warm air over your skin.

“And if that wasn’t enough,” another kiss, another soft suck, “you’ve been so whiny, haven’t you? Always pouting, always needy, making me wonder how you’d sound…”

Your eyes were closed, your world distilled to the heat of his mouth, the heat of his words. You pulled at him, needing his mouth over yours again, and Jake obliged. He was so much softer than you expected, gentle but firm, and he tasted so damn good.

With him distracted, you rolled your hips again, rewarded by the friction over your core, and you could feel Jake hardening in his pajama pants. It was addictive, and you sought him out again, pouting when Jake stilled your hips again.

“Baby,” he murmured, and heat shot through you at the pet name, not one he’d used jokingly before, “what was the point of the lotion if you’re going to grind it off against my flannels?”

“You can reapply it later,” you rationalized, but Jake shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. His lips were swollen, his cheeks reddened, and you loved the look of him like this, almost dazed.

“C’mon,” he prompted you, and guided you to stand. Your legs felt weak, but you managed, and Jake’s hands smoothed up the outside of your thighs. You were between his spread knees, and his hands played with the hem of your shorts before he pulled them down your legs, taking care to not scrape them over your tattoo. The air felt cold on your exposed skin, and Jake swore quietly as he dropped the shorts, staring at you in your underwear with something that felt dangerously close to adoration.

He leaned closer, and at first you thought it was so he could be more gentle with your fragile panties, but then he pressed a kiss to the outside of your thigh and you jumped, pushing him away, embarrassed again.

“You don’t—” you started, pursing your lips, “um, you don’t have to…do that. We can—”

Jake’s hands smoothed over your thighs, coming around to cup under your ass. Had you said his hands were cold earlier? You were sure they were burning, leaving trails of heat wherever he touched.

“Nah, baby,” he whispered against your thighs, his nose brushing the soft skin there, as his hands squeezed you, “nothing ‘have to’ about something I’ve been dreaming ‘bout for months.”

Well, fuck, when he put it like that…

“Okay, then,” you said quietly, weaving your hand into his hair again, and Jake flashed a smile up at you.

“Okay, then,” he echoed, and his fingers pulled your underwear over your hips. He scooted to the front of the couch, a motion that should’ve been cute for his enthusiasm, but instead was simply devastating. He looked so good like this, eager and hungry, and your breath caught when he licked his lips, your hips canting towards him.

He didn’t look away from you.

His green eyes locked on yours as he leaned closer, not pausing when his tongue crept past his lips and you were the one to break, your head tipping back when he licked you. His tongue was flat against you, like the first taste of ice cream, and your head spun at the shamelessness of it. You whimpered when he pulled away, and Jake’s breath was warm as he leaned back again.

“There’s that sound I was after,” he murmured, his soft words a cutting juxtaposition to his filthy tongue.

He teased you with soft licks, lapping at your arousal that’d only grown since he’d first touched your thighs earlier tonight. His hands snuck around to pull you apart, spread you on his fingers like he needed his tongue closer, tasting you and drinking you. He was unhurried and it was maddening, and you pulled at his tshirt distractedly, needing to feel his skin.

“Ah, honey,” Jake muttered as he pulled back. “You taste so good, fucking unbelievable.”

You opened your eyes to find his chest heaving, his eyes dilated and your slick smeared across his chin. He looked so good like this, drunk on you, and you imagined you looked nearly as wrecked. He leaned back to pull his tshirt over his head, and your fingers smoothed over broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, as it was bared to you.

He tossed the shirt aside and a moment later he was leaning back into your cunt, nuzzling your clit with his nose as his tongue lapped at you. Your knees nearly buckled at the sensation, and Jake groaned, the vibrations only increasing the intensity of the feelings flooding you. His strong hands held you up, spread before him, and he lifted his mouth to tease at your clit. You whined when his tongue rolled around you, alternating tight circles and slow, and your eyes rolled back when he closed his lips and sucked.

“Jake, oh my god,” you gasped, feeling your stomach tighten. It was too soon, you knew it, but you also couldn’t fight it, and it was practically crashing over you—

Jake pulled back.

You whined in confusion, looking down to find him looking up at you, a familiar expression of smug awareness on his face. He turned his head to press a gentle kiss to your thigh, amusement sparkling in his dark eyes.

“Told you I’ve been waiting on this for months, honey,” he teased, another wet kiss slightly higher on your thigh. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easy, did you?”

Nothing about this felt easy. Not the way he had your body primed for release, every nerve wound tight, not the way you felt it slipping away, and your desperation only climbing.

You whimpered his name, too gone to be embarrassed by how fucked out you sounded.

“Aw, baby…” Jake cooed, and you saw his shoulders shift as he repositioned. Before you could anticipate his next move, a broad finger was stroking through your folds, and you cried out, your hands flying to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“So pretty like this,” Jake soothed, pulling his finger through you, stroking back over you, the pressure perfect, but not enough, “needy. Desperate.”

“Jake, please,” you cried, appalled to find real tears were pushing behind your eyes. After being so close to release, then being denied, then held steady wherever his fingers pulled you, you couldn’t be responsible for the way your body was shaking.

“Bet you’d beg me for it, wouldn’t you?” Jake said, voice even and unbothered. He added another finger, still not entering you, just teasing over you, languid. “You’re all proud when you’re strutting around in those shorts, cute when you ask for help, but not like this, huh? Like this, you know who’s in charge.”

Any response you had was cut off when he plunged both fingers into you.

No warning, no easing, just sudden pressure and thickness and your body tightened around the sudden intrusion, unrelenting and unexpected and fucking perfect, and you couldn’t stop your orgasm as it ripped through you.

“Oh, fuck,” Jake groaned, as he recognized your walls tightening around his fingers. “Thatta girl, come on, give it to me.”

You moaned, your core clenching as your denied release rolled over you, scalding and strong and you felt it in your toes. You didn’t know how you were still standing, you knew the sounds pouring out of you were unbridled, and Jake was proudly talking you through it.

“So beautiful, baby, you’re doing so good,” he said, his other hand stroking up your neck to support your head. You turned your head desperately, pulling his thumb into your mouth and sucking on it, needing to be grounded.

“Fuck, baby,” Jake moaned, and his fingers kept their pace inside you. You felt the edges of your orgasm soften as he worked you through it, and as the fingers not in your mouth brushed against your cheek, you realized he was wiping away tears. You were shaking, it was perfect, but his fingers inside you were pressing deeper and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to push you higher again.

“How we doing, honey?” Jake asked, and you lifted your head to meet his eyes. He was watching you carefully, and he pulled his thumb from your mouth so you could answer him.

“Good,” you whispered, through the clearing haze, “really, really, good.”

Jake hummed, tilting his head as he considered you. His fingers scissored inside of you, and you clenched down on him, hands grasping his shoulders.

“Then I think you should give me another,” he said, smile growing as your eyes widened.

“Jake, wait—” you protested, but you went without opposition when he pulled you back to the couch. His fingers paused their exploration but he didn’t pull out of you as he guided you onto your back, propping your knees up carefully.

“Have to be gentle with that thigh,” he said, his voice growing husky as he settled between your legs. He stroked his fingers again, and your core clamped down on them, still not fully returned from your first high. Any other protest you had died when he bent down again, his mouth returning to your cunt.

You’d had his tongue, you’d had his fingers, and they’d made you cum like you hadn’t in months. And now suddenly you had both at once, and you were pretty sure it was going to cost you your mind.

“Jake, fuck,” you keened, your back arching off the couch.

Jake didn’t respond, too busy lapping up your release and thrusting into you. His tongue traced a maddening pattern over your clit as his fingers pressed deeper into you, stretching you.

“You taste even sweeter like this, baby,” he mumbled into you, and you moaned as you felt his words. His fingers brushed something deep inside of you and you couldn’t breathe; you reached for Jake’s hair, pulling desperately, hoping he could read how impossibly taut you were.

“You know something,” he mused, like it was the calmest thing in the world, “you came so quick, didn’t you? Came once you had something fucking you, and it was so beautiful, honey…but I never got to hear you beg.”

“Jake,” you whispered, his name the only word you could manage, the only thing you could say with his fingers brushing that spot and his mouth just a breath away from you.

“Nah,” he said, his voice low, “I know you could do it so prettily. Won’t you do it for me, sweetheart, won’t you let me hear it? Let me make you cum again?”

He kissed you again, his mouth light and teasing, brushing caresses over your mound but not where you were aching, throbbing, for him. His fingers slowed, torturously, pushing you closer but not fast enough, and you felt your eyes filling again. What was he asking for?

What was anything, what did he need?

“Jake, please,” you gasped, your voice thick. “Please, please—”

“Please what, baby?” Jake asked, another soft kiss. “What do you need?”

“I need to cum,” you practically sobbed. “Please, need it so bad, please, Jake—need you so bad, need you to—”

“That’s right,” Jake practically growled, his voice lower than you’d ever heard it. “You need me. And I’ve got you, honey, so you can let you go, since you asked so nicely, and I’m gonna take care of you…”

His forearm was banded across your waist, holding you still as his fingers found that spot inside of you, pressed up against it, and your thighs shook as your second orgasm bowled over you. Jake’s tongue was over your clit, then his lips closed, and when you thought you might be ready to let go of the high, he sucked, and you fully shattered. You could feel your nails raking into his back, feel his responding groans through the mouth still pressed to your cunt, as your world dissolved into white heat. It swept over you and you stopped trying to ride it, just let yourself be thrown, buffeted by Jake’s mouth, Jake’s fingers, Jake’s soft words.

“Fucking gorgeous, baby, you did so good,” Jake was murmuring into the skin of your stomach. His fingers were still inside of you, gently rocking but no longer trying to stimulate you. It would’ve brought tears to your eyes, if they weren’t already streaming, how tender he was being with you. The whiplash was incredible—how quickly he’d brought you to orgasm, how easily he’d denied you, how thoroughly fucked out you were, now that he’d given it to you.

God, and you hadn’t even had him yet.

“Jake,” you croaked, your throat hoarse, and he lifted his head to look up at you.

“What is it, honey?” he asked, voice soft. He was propped up on his elbows, and he shifted slightly, pulling his fingers out of you. You pressed your lips together to stop a whimper from escaping and trying to ignore how empty you felt, and watching quietly as he wiped his hands absently on his pajama pants before looking back up at you.

You lifted a hand to brush away some of his hair that’d fallen into his face. You shifted slightly, pulling the hem of your tshirt down to wipe at his chin, clean him up a little. It was rough, not the intended purpose of the garment, and Jake laughed a little at the clumsiness of the action, pressing his jaw into your cotton-covered hand, to help you as you wiped at his face.

You bit your lip, more to stop yourself from smiling so wide it made you hurt, looking down at him, propped up on his elbows

He looked proud.

He looked content, and it made your heart swell uncomfortably in your chest, that he’d look like that after taking care of you. But the longer you looked at him, something like doubt flickered behind his eyes and he cleared his throat, looking away.

“If…” he started, and he shook his head, like he was clearing the fog after a night out. “Uh, you know, if that’s too much…or not what you wanted, or something, we can just say it was a distraction. You know, to get your mind off the tattoo.”

You hadn’t thought about the thing in what felt like a lifetime.

More importantly, you saw Jake still wasn’t meeting your eyes, like he expected you to say that that’s all this was, and he was worried you’d see too much if you were looking at him when you said it. It broke your heart, that he would push away his own repressed feelings, if it meant protecting yours.

Although, to be fair, you’d both been more honest in the last thirty minutes than you’d been in the months before, so it was probably on you, as well as him.

You carded your fingers through his hair again, waiting.

It took another couple seconds, but Jake steeled himself and looked back at you.

You hadn’t realized you’d missed the green of them.

In the height of everything, they’d been hooded and dark, the bright color nearly lost in his blown pupils. But like this, clear and sweet, you thought you might like this better.

“It wasn’t too much,” you said, simply.

Jake’s shoulders dropped, just slightly, and you saw him wanting to contest it, and so you shook your head.

“I think that’s a conversation for later,” you said gently, “when we’re both a little more clothed, hmm?”

“Oh,” Jake said, his head turning quickly as he looked around for your pajama shorts. “I can reach—”

You wanted to roll your eyes and you wanted to pinch him, just a little, to get him to listen to you. “That’s not what I meant,” you corrected. “I’m not…I’m not ready to be done. Besides, we han’t gotten you off yet.”

“Oh, that’s okay, that’s not what this was about,” Jake said quickly and you tilted your head, pushing yourself up to sitting.

Jake was still between your spread knees, your faces close together now, and you pressed a kiss to his cheek, a quick reassurance before you reached between the two of you.

Jake jumped when your hand slid over the front of his pajama pants, and you felt like cooing. Even through the thick cotton, you felt him respond to your touch. The fabric had to be adding to the illusion, because he felt enormous under the flannel.

And it was very gentlemanly that this was for you, that he didn’t want this to be a thing about reciprocity, but in a much more tangible way, he’d made you feel infinite, just a few minutes ago. If you could do the same for him, you imagined you’d probably feel just as proud as he had, to see you come undone.

“What’d you say,” you asked innocently, your fingers trailing up the length of him, “about distracting me?”

When you looked back up at Jake, his eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling slowly, deliberate, like he was holding his breath.

Sweet man.

You leaned back up to kiss him gently, waiting for him to kiss you back. It took only a moment, and you bit back a moan at the taste of yourself on his lips. You kissed him softly for a minute, gentle lips, gentle tastes, coaxing. When you pulled back, Jake’s lashes fluttered before he opened his eyes to look at you.

“I don’t know,” you lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I think I’d be pretty distracted if I were choking on your dick, Jake.”

“Jesus,” Jake whispered, and his hips bucked into your touch. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to–”

You licked your lips, his words from earlier coming back to you. “Nothing ‘have to’ about something I’ve been dreaming about for months.”

Jake surged forward, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you to him. You tasted his longing in this kiss, the tight reins he held himself in check with, and how desperately he wanted to give them to you, if only for a moment. You wanted that, and maybe for a little longer. So you kissed him for a moment more, then slid off the couch, settling between his knees like before, but this time, he stayed with his back against the back of the couch, and you were on the ground.

“Wait,” he said, leaning over to grab a pillow, and gesturing for you to use it under your knees.

Forget rolling your eyes or pinching him, did you want to marry him?

You shook the thought out of your head, settling on the cushion and reaching up to help Jake slide the pajama pants down. He hooked his boxer briefs along with them, and once they slid past his hips, his cock sprang free.

“Holy fuck, Seresin,” you whispered, looking up at his face. Jake shrugged, a kind of bashful you hadn’t seen him before. One of his hands fisted his cock loosely, like he needed something to do, and you reached up to pry his fingers away.

No wonder he walked around like he did.

As you wrapped your hands around him, replacing his fingers, you couldn’t deny a fresh wave of arousal washed over you. His wasn’t the longest dick you’d seen, but he was thick, a dusty rose color that you’d kill for a lipstick match of—which just made you think of why you were waiting so long to get him in your mouth.

But he’d teased you, and when you glanced up at Jake, his hands clenched at his sides, his stomach tight, you figured he was due for a taste of his own medicine.

You kissed up his thighs slowly, loving the contrast of wiry hair over smooth skin, and when you got to his cock, you let out a warm breath over the tip. As you watched, a smooth drop of precum appeared at the edge of his cock, and you frowned in mock sympathy, knowing how worked up he must’ve been from finishing you, while denying himself.

“Bet you’d beg something pretty yourself, Jake,” you teased softly, licking at the drop of moisture and pulling his salty taste back into your mouth. You hummed, immediately salivating for more, but Jake’s hips jerked up as he choked in a breath.

“Darlin’...” he said, his voice low, and you had mercy on him, not needing to hear the words to know how badly he wanted this.

“Good thing I’m nicer than you, hmm?” you asked, before you licked at him again.

Jake’s head fell back limply as you tongued his tip, teasing the sensitive head before you licked up the length of him. This was supposed to be for him, but as you were here, you were lost in the exploration of him—the gorgeous weight of him, the musky scent of him, the rich taste, and the sounds he was making.

You kind of loved how quiet he was being, when it was clearly costing him dearly.

It meant that when he did burst, it was going to be loud, and you wanted that break. You kissed your way lightly back to his tip, before opening your mouth and pulling him in.

You’d been joking earlier, about it being distracting, but fuck. The ache to your jaw was immediate, your mouth open as wide as it could to accommodate his thickness. But it felt so good, deeply satisfying, to be able to hold him like this. Warm and thick in your mouth, stretching you—you moaned around him, imagining him filling you. You hollowed your cheeks lightly, sucking, and Jake groaned above you.

There it was.

You pushed yourself deeper onto him, holding your breath and fighting your gag reflex, and Jake’s hands shot out to hold the back of your head, his breath a low moan that was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard.

You clenched your thighs together, the sound of him and the weight of him had you feeling so empty, while you knew you were physically stretching to your limits. You pulled off of him, a trail of saliva falling from between your lips and his tip, and Jake swore softly at the sight.

“That mouth, baby,” he groaned, and you felt his thumb trace your lips, smearing your spit across it. You opened your mouth, holding out your tongue and Jake groaned again, feeding his cock back into your mouth.

You felt like he could see straight through you.

That was how it felt, his eyes boring into you as his cock stretched your jaw and his hips pressed slowly deeper. Your nostrils flared and your eyes were streaming again, but you wanted this, wanted him, wanted him to find his release in you, as you had in him. You couldn’t take him all the way down your throat, not now, although you relished the idea of training, so you found a rhythm that seemed to work for both of you.

Jake’s hips rose slightly to meet you, as you bobbed your head up and down his length, alternating sucking and swirling your tongue over his tip. Your other hands stroked the part of him that you couldn’t fit, squeezing and pulling and you heard Jake’s breathing getting heavier. You were lightheaded, overwhelmed by him, but you couldn’t stop, not for something as simple as air.

The stretch of him was so good, unrelenting and perfect, and the steadiness with which he held himself in check, it felt like a promise. It made your core ache, throbbing and empty, but you reached up to play with his balls. One of your hands cupped him lightly and then Jake was pulling you off of him.

You choked at the sudden influx of air as Jake set you back on your thighs, his hands smoothing over your face as he checked you were okay. You couldn’t remember a time you’d felt better, lightheaded and dreamy, but you nodded obediently in answer to the unspoken question, and Jake pulled you to standing. You weren’t sure where he was taking you, but you knew with absolute certainty that you’d follow him.

Mercifully, it was just around the couch, and when you understood his plan, you whimpered slightly, hoping you could take it. You braced your forearms on the armrest of the coach, rocking back on your hips, presenting your ass to him, and Jake was already behind you, covering you. His long arms draped over yours, pressing you into the couch, even as his knee worked between your thighs, spreading your legs. You moaned when you felt his cock slap against your thighs, and one of Jake’s hands fell to between your legs to cup your cunt.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, voice somehow both rough and awed. “Is this new? You work yourself up, getting me off?”

You meant to say ‘obviously, asshole’, or ‘as if you didn’t know it’, but what came out was a truly pathetic, “Jake, please…”

He chuckled, his body stretched over yours, and the sound broke off when he guided his cock towards your core.

“Honey, you’re so wet and warm, fuck. Need to be in you, baby, need to feel this tight cunt—”

“Do it already,” you cried, rewarded by another deep laugh from Jake, and then you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, because that thick cock was pushing into you.

It was a good thing he was holding you up.

Your body was shaking to accommodate him, already loosened from your orgasms and his fingers, but the stretch still bordered on painful, and you dropped your head to your forearms as he pushed into you. You weren’t doing anything, you were simply there, letting him fuck into you slowly, and you couldn’t think of anywhere better to be.

“Fuck, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake groaned, and you knew he was trying to go slow, but that didn’t make the stretch any more attainable.

“Need you,” you managed. “Please, Jake, want to be full—”

His hips slammed forward and you cried out as he bottomed out into you.

You felt impaled, you felt him in your throat, you felt like this was everything you could want and you trembled but held him in you. You felt full, and it was so, so good.

“Honey,” Jake gritted, “I’ve got to move, but I need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m good,” you whispered, “let me feel you.”

He groaned, another gorgeous iteration of that sound, and when he pulled back, you clawed at the edge of the couch. It was like he was shifting your center of gravity, but the pull was re-orienting. You had no choice but to surrender to it.

Your whole universe was balanced on the edge of the sofa.

Jake’s thick cock, stuffing you. Jake’s strong chest, pressed against your back, his arms holding you up, pulling you to him. Jake’s sweat, dripping off of him and onto you, sweet and sticky and heady. The pull and push of him, overwhelming and deep, remaking you.

You weren’t going to cum from this; it was too much, but it was too good to stop. You’d already had yours, and you could hear how good it was for Jake, could feel it in the tight clench of his hands and the short length of his thrusts.

Jake groaned, a throaty sound that jolted through you as he pulled you back onto his dick.

“Sweetheart you feel so good…is this what we’ve been missing out on? This tight as fuck cunt, that I can just feel clenching around me? Touch yourself, honey, I need to feel you come again, want to feel you come on my cock.”

You couldn’t be sure if you were crying or babbling, but when Jake told you to play with yourself, you summoned your boneless limbs to do as he asked.

When your fingers brushed your clit, you immediately pulled back; it was too much.

“I can’t,” you gasped, hands falling back to brace against the couch. “It’s too much, Jake, I can’t–”

“Poor baby,” Jake gritted, and one of his hands smoothed down your back before dipping around to your stomach and finding his way to your clit. Your knees buckled and your hips jerked away from his hand, but a moment later you were pressing into him, needing the perfect pain of his touch.

“Honey, you’re doing so good,” Jake’s voice was tight. “God, you feel unreal, clenching down on me like that. Are you gonna cum again? Is this pussy going to cum for me?”

“Jake,” you sobbed, his name the only prayer you could manage.

“That’s it, baby,” he soothed, his touch gentling, even as his hips sped up. “I’m almost there; I know you are too. Where can I come, honey, where do you want me–”

“Jake,” you moaned, your head thrashing from side to side. It was too much, it wasn’t enough, but you knew you needed him. “In me…please..Jake...”

“Holy fuck,” Jake groaned. “Baby, are you sure I–”

You bucked back into him, the thought of losing his heat and his presence nearly unbearable. “Need you,” you whimpered. “Jake, please–”

“I’m right here,” Jake’s hips pistoned impossibly faster. “Fuck, I’m here, I’ve got you. Shit, honey, you feel so good, you’re gonna make me cum, baby, please–”

He ground his hips deep into you and rolled his fingers over your clit once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out and you felt Jake grunt as he caught you, his hips pounding into you a couple more times and he stilled with another beautiful moan as he pumped his release into you. You felt him, hot and pulsing inside of you, and you wanted to curl up into that feeling forever—warm, full, safe.

Jake summoned some kind of strength as he turned the both of you, him settling onto the ground and you on his lap, your cunt clenching around him, like you still couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving. You turned into his chest, and Jake wrapped his arms around you, cradling you, somehow knowing how intense that had been and that you needed the warmth of his chest before you could come back down.

You were shaking, incredibly exhausted but deeply satisfied. And as you drifted back, you became aware of the tangible things around you—Jake’s chest hair prickling your face. Stranger Things still playing, on the TV. The cool air in the room around you, the sticky remains between your thighs.

You lifted your head to find Jake looking down at you, his expression careful, like he was worried what he’d see. Your eyes closed again, and you managed a smile before you turned your face into his chest again, pressing a kiss to whatever was closest. His hands were locked around your back, but you could feel his thumb brushing over your skin, lightly. And it was wild, that that was what had started this all, and if you’d had the energy for it, you would’ve laughed.

You could deal with the repercussions later, what this meant for your roommate situation, if your thigh was any worse for wear, any of that. Because that motion, that comforting gesture that Jake didn’t even seem to be aware he was doing—that meant that this was always where you were gonna end up.

tagging: @bradshawsbitch @callsign-fangirl @laracrofted @datemephoenix @mandylove1000 @withahappyrefrain @gigisimsonmars @babyonboardfloyd @blue-aconite @mxgyver @hangmanbrainrot @lt-bradshaw @wildbornsiren @fuckyeahhangman @double-j @sebsxphia @javihoney @jadore-andor @teacupsandtopgun @thedroneranger

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julietta67

1 year ago

Clan of Three Series

Clan of Three - Series Masterlist

A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with an undiscovered lineage. An unlikely group to travel the galaxy together.

Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Word Count: 137.4K