laserguy: (Default)
Scott 'has zero self-respect' Summers ([personal profile] laserguy) wrote2024-10-29 08:38 pm
Entry tags:

peacock inbox

@ic cyclops
TEXT

AUDIO

VIDEO

ACTION



OPEN SEASON
@cyclops
18 / Male / Bi / Four Three of Clubs
Details
My Self-Summary

I'm Scott Summers and yeah I always need to wear these sunglasses, thanks for asking.

My Future Plans

Going back home.

My Talents

A lot of things.

Favorite Books, Movies, Music, and Food

Stuff that doesn't suck.

My Ideal Partner

...

Height 5'8" Body Type Lean, athletic build Smokes No Drinks No (mostly because underage) Drugs No Sign Libra Education Xavier's Institute Occupation Student Income None Children No Pets No Hobbies Normal things
art credit: one. two. three. four. five.
01. WINE OR BEER
idk probably beer

.02 CLOWNS OR MIMES
Clowns I guess

.03 SHOWER OR BATH
Shower

.04 PIRATES OR NINJAS
Ninjas

.05 TITS OR ASS
Yes

.06 COFFEE OR TEA
Coffee

.07 SPICY OR SWEET
Spicy

.08 SUMMER OR WINTER
Summer

.09 LEATHER OR LACE
Leather

10. ROUGH SEX OR GENTLE SEX
Depends

Personality Type
ISFJ-T
ENERGY
57%
trait
MIND
92%
trait
NATURE
60%
trait
TACTICS
82%
trait
IDENTITY
67%
trait
hover for rating.
drugsnotclubs: (32)

[personal profile] drugsnotclubs 2025-11-15 05:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[He takes his own bottom lip between his teeth, letting out another noise as Scott tenses up and doubles down on the pressure clenching around him. It's a short, needing voicalization, something only a step or two from being desperate enough to be called a whimper. Though he does feel desperate-- desperate and lost and needing and wanting and having and getting nowhere in a frustrating cycle of sensation. His muscles burn and back aches but still the only thing that matters is more.

Those heels dig into his back, and blearily he's watching how the spittle pools at Scott's mouth, mirroring how wet his own feels despite all his dry panting and frequent swallowing. Eventually all the sensations and visuals and scents really just blend together into one extremely wet mess, to the point that neither of them seem to care where they are or what they're doing, just the act of continuing both their chase.

Finally, though, he does peak again with a heavy groan, and this time it's more sustained. His mind blank, eyes half closed, muscles tensing and holding taut through the orgasm. And this time, it's like a pressure had been released-- like he's finally able to fully empty, finding an actual crest instead of an infinite crescendo. When the world fades back in everything is still ringing a bit-- but at least he's getting closer to that post-nut clarity, mind restarting somewhere in there.

Which--- right. Scott has just sort of put up with being rawly fucked into for a while. He's probably desperate for some sort of relief, too.]


Hey... just let go, alright? [His words are rough and shaky, but he does return his hand between them. He hasn't quite fully withdrawn yet, despite his cock softening, but leaving Scott to be edged into eternity would just be torturous and unfair. He grips him firmly, the residual lube a bit tacky by now, but there's plenty enough precum to roll over the flushed head and smooth out strokes along the shaft, rolling up and down in a steady rhythm.]

I got you for a sec. [And then he wants to pass out or something but he's sure that initial fatigue will pass and they'll be able to awkwardly clean up and reschedule their date. Or. Whatever.]
drugsnotclubs: (70)

[personal profile] drugsnotclubs 2025-11-28 07:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[He can't help but watch as Scott lets go. The way he moves, the way his dark, desperate erection finally gets to release, the way that energy can crest and flow over and out of him. He's locked onto the way Scott's lips move as he moans, breathes-- the messy arc of semen spattered across his own stomach.

And probably the first clue that Shinjiro isn't getting off that easy is the way he's tempted to taste it, despite his warm satiation and fatigue.

But instead he tamps that urge down and pulls back enough for them to separate and catch their breaths-- both likely looking ridiculous, curled and awkward on the gym floor, their clothes a complete mess on either side of them. (He's pretty sure one of his pant legs is inside out over there, but he'll deal with that when he gets there.)]


You.... ah.... [There's a concerned frown as he looks over Scott again. The complete mess between his legs, the way he's slacked against the mat. Which honestly looks pretty comfortable, and he'd be tempted to join him there wasn't that awkward post-control-loss self-consciousness creeping up to dig into the back of his skull. But he manages to keep from making an excuse and ditching. Instead he'll finish what he'd been trying to ask, once he pulls his mind a bit back together.]

You need any help...?

[With what, he has no idea. Cleaning up? Standing? Going somewhere more normal after all this? Listen, he doesn't exactly know the etiquette for this sort of situation. He brings up a hand to rub over his neck, as though it would get rid of some of the sweat sticking to him. Too bad he can't see the fact that his suit mark hasn't faded at all.]