onlyalyx

[onlyalyx]

𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓉𝑔𝓊𝓃 𝜗𝜚 𝓉𝑜𝒷𝓎 𝓇𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓍 𝒶𝒻𝒶𝒷!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: University sucks, the party’s not much better, and you just needed something to take the edge off. Then you met him—smirking, drinking, smoking, and way too good at getting under your skin. One reckless choice, a little smoke, and now you’re in deeper than you planned.  

All this because of 'shotgun'.

This is by far my favorite fic, like I was giggling while reading this. [ 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝓌𝑜 ]

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: dealer!toby x student!reader, afab!reader, drunk and high reader, smut, public fucking, degrading, frat party chaos, dangerously hot tension, dirty talk, sloppy makeout, mischief and mayhem, horror lurking in the background, high risk, bad decisions, toxic flirting, rough but hot, Toby being a menace, reader getting lost in the moment

Music. Loud. Sweaty. Flashing lights. Packed bodies. 

That’s life at a frat party—especially at a University.    

And here you are. Again. It’s the fourth time this week, which is ridiculous, but whatever. Thinking about it too much makes your head hurt, and right now, thinking is the last thing you want to do. So, you don’t. Instead, you just exist—float through the mess of bodies, lights, and bass like it’s just another night, because at this point, it is.  

One second, you were swearing off cheap beer and regret-fueled decisions, and the next? Someone was dragging you through the door of another overcrowded house, the bass shaking the walls like it’s got something to prove.  

The air is thick and humid with the scent of too many people packed into one place, layered with alcohol, sweat, cheap cologne, and the unmistakable burn of weed. Someone stumbles past, nearly knocking into you, and you move without thinking, sidestepping effortlessly. 

You don’t even flinch. 

You’ve already lost count of how many times someone’s spilled their drink on you, but at this point, what’s another stain on your already questionable life choices?  You’ve gotten used to this—used to the chaos, the noise, the heat of it all pressing in.  

Your dress clings to your body, lace and satin hugging your frame like it was made for you, black and sleek, the hem just short enough to tease but not desperate enough to beg for attention. Your ripped tights stretch over your legs, the small tears catching the flashing neon lights as you move. Your boots—tall, chunky, black platforms—thud against the sticky floor with every step, giving you that extra height, that extra weight to your presence. 

You’re not delicate. 

Not fragile. Not here.  

The star-shaped bead necklace resting against your collarbone shifts as you walk, the cool beads a strange contrast to the heat of the room. It’s the only thing on you that doesn’t feel like armor, the only thing soft, almost childish, against the dark edge of the rest of your outfit. 

But you like it. It reminds you of something—something you can’t quite name, but something that feels distant, like a memory you almost remember before it slips through your fingers.  

You could leave. You should leave. 

But something keeps you here. 

Maybe it’s the way the music thrums under your skin, the way the chaos feels like static in your head—loud enough to drown out whatever thoughts you don’t want to deal with, or maybe it’s just that part of you that doesn’t want to be alone tonight.  

But whatever. It’s just another night. Another party. Another drink.  

You push through the crowd, toward the kitchen, because if you’re going to keep pretending everything is fine, you’re going to need something to sip on. It’s easier that way. It keeps everything quiet, keeps the thoughts at bay. 

And right now? That’s all you need.

The kitchen is just as much of a mess as the rest of the house. Sticky counters, half-empty bottles of vodka and tequila, a questionable jungle juice mix sloshing around in a plastic tub that looks like it hasn’t been cleaned properly in months. 

Solo cups litter every surface, discarded and forgotten, and the faint smell of beer, sweat, and something burnt lingers in the air. Someone left a bag of half-eaten chips on the counter, but they’re already stale, exposed to the humidity and the heat of too many bodies in a house that should not be holding this many people.  

You weave through the kitchen, careful with your movements—controlled, deliberate. You don’t rush. Rushing means you’re in a hurry, means you’re nervous, and that’s the last thing you want to look like in a place like this. 

The frat guys? Yeah, they’re watching. 

They always are. 

Not that you care, not really, but you make sure to let them see just enough to know you’re not approachable. The lace and satin of your dress catch the dim, flickering light, your ripped tights adding an edge, the platform boots giving you weight, grounding you. 

You look good. You know it. They know it. 

But that doesn’t mean you’re interested.  

It’s all the same. These parties, these guys. They circle like vultures, drunk off beer and ego, scanning the room for girls too fresh to know better. It’s not even surprising. Frat parties aren’t really about the party; they’re about the hunt. And the freshmen? They eat it up, giggling into their drinks, draping themselves over guys who are already planning how the night’s gonna end. 

It’s not a bad thing, necessarily—everyone’s having fun, after all—but it cheapens the whole vibe. Makes it feel less like a party and more like a transaction.  

So, why are you here?  

Good question. Maybe it’s the music, the way the bass thrums through your bones, loud enough to drown out thoughts you don’t want to deal with. Maybe it’s the anonymity of it all—here, no one cares who you are or what you’re running from. 

You could be anyone. Do anything. It’s the kind of place where judgment doesn’t exist, where people let themselves fall apart without consequence, because come morning, no one’s gonna remember.  

You grab a bottle from the counter, something dark, something strong, and pour yourself another drink. It burns when it goes down, but that’s good. 

That’s what you want. 

That’s the point.  

The night stretches ahead, endless and hazy, the music still pulsing, the party still alive. And you? You’re just here, existing in it, letting it swallow you whole.

The wooden planks creak under your boots as you step onto the balcony, the air instantly cooler, crisper against your flushed skin. Out here, the chaos of the party fades—not completely, but enough. The bass still thrums through the walls, muffled, but compared to the suffocating heat inside, this feels almost peaceful. Almost.  

You lean against the railing, eyes scanning the view—a few trees swaying gently in the night breeze, buildings standing silent in the distance, the occasional car rolling down the dimly lit street below. It’s nothing special, but right now, it’s a hell of a lot better than being trapped inside with too many bodies, too much noise, and too many guys looking for their next easy lay. 

You take a slow breath, letting the night air cool your skin, before pushing your hair back and taking a sip of your drink. The burn is familiar now, settling warm in your stomach, grounding you in a way that nothing else really does.  

You place the cup on the railing, fingers lingering for a moment before you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. You’re not alone.  

In the farthest corner of the balcony, half-hidden in the shadows, a guy is leaning up against the wall, phone pressed to his ear. He’s talking—low, quiet, voice barely carrying over the distant thump of music inside. You can’t make out the words, not exactly, but there’s something in the way he speaks, clipped and tense, that makes it clear the conversation isn’t lighthearted.  

You don’t mean to listen. Really. But it’s hard not to when it’s just the two of you out here, and there’s nothing else to focus on besides the sound of his voice. You shift your weight, turning slightly away, giving the illusion of privacy while your ears pick up every muffled word you can catch.

 Nosy? Maybe. But can you be blamed?  

The wind picks up slightly, pushing strands of hair into your face. You exhale, shaking them loose, and glance at the guy again. He hasn’t noticed you—or if he has, he doesn’t care. Fine by you. 

You’re not looking for conversation. Just a moment to breathe, to exist outside of everything, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

You exhale slowly, eyes trailing over the street below as the cool night air settles over your skin. The party is still in full swing behind you—muffled bass rattling the walls, drunken laughter spilling out through the open doors, the occasional shout of someone either too hyped or too wasted to care about volume control. It’s all background noise now, just another part of the night.  

Maybe it’s time to leave.  

You’ve been here long enough, longer than you meant to. You told yourself you’d just come for one drink, just to feel the energy, just to distract yourself for a little while. And yet, here you are—four nights deep into the same routine, standing on a frat house balcony at god-knows-what time, staring out at the same damn street, feeling the same creeping exhaustion settle into your bones.  

You know how the rest of the night is gonna play out. You’ll go back inside, push through the sweat-slick bodies, dodge another drunk guy who thinks standing way too close is an acceptable flirting technique, grab whatever’s left of your drink, and maybe—just maybe—someone will convince you to stay for “one more.” You’ll say yes, because it’s easier than going home to an empty room where your own thoughts are louder than the party you just left.  

Or, you could just… go now. Call it. Walk down those sticky-ass, deathtrap stairs, push past the front door, and let the night air carry you home. Sounds easy enough.  

Except, knowing this place, the second your boot hits one of those steps, there’s a good chance the entire staircase might just give out beneath you. It’s a miracle this frat house is still standing at all—like some kind of drunk, indestructible cockroach of a building, surviving on nothing but spilled beer, bad decisions, and whatever last-minute duct tape fixes the guys have slapped together over the years.  

The walls? Covered in mystery stains no one dares to question. The furniture? A graveyard of mismatched couches that probably came from a curb somewhere, each one holding the history of every regrettable hookup that’s ever happened at this house. The floors? Stickier than a damn movie theater, holding onto spilled drinks and broken dreams like a badge of honor.  

And those stairs? Those damn stairs are an actual lawsuit waiting to happen. Uneven, creaking under the weight of anyone stupid enough to trust them, patched up with nails that barely hold together the wood. You’ve seen people wipe out on them at least three times tonight alone—some because they were drunk, others just because the stairs themselves seemed to decide, “Yeah, not tonight.”  

Still, as much of a disaster as this place is, it’s got that weird, grimy charm that keeps people coming back. Maybe it’s the parties, maybe it’s the fact that no matter how many times the university threatens to shut this place down, it just refuses to die. Or maybe it’s because, in some strange way, it feels like the kind of place where nothing matters. You can exist here without expectation, without judgment.  

But that doesn’t mean you have to stay.  

With a final glance toward the flashing lights inside, you sigh. Time to get out of here—before the floor caves in or the ceiling fan that’s barely hanging on finally falls and takes someone out.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, already preparing yourself to leave when—  

“Hey.”  

You jolt so hard you nearly throw yourself over the damn railing.  

“Jesus—” You whip around, hand clutching your chest like that’s gonna stop your soul from trying to escape your body. The guy in the corner—formerly minding his own business, deeply invested in whatever serious phone call he was having—now stands a few feet away, looking far too amused for someone who just scared the life out of you.  

“Didn’t mean to freak you out,” he says, even though the smirk on his face suggests otherwise.  

“You did,” you deadpan, still willing your heartbeat to slow down. “Congratulations. Hope that was the highlight of your night.”  

He chuckles, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Eh, top five, at least.”  

You roll your eyes, exhaling sharply. “Right. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of having an existential crisis, so…”  

He raises a brow. “That serious, huh?”  

You glance back at the party inside—the flashing lights, the chaos, the bodies pressed too close together. Then back at the street below, quiet and empty, calling your name.  

“Something like that.”  

He doesn’t respond right away, just studies you for a second like he’s trying to piece you together. And honestly? You’re too tired to care what conclusions he’s coming to.  

“Then what’re you still doing here?” he finally asks, tilting his head slightly.  

Good question. One, you don’t quite have an answer to.  

Maybe you should leave. Maybe you really will this time. But for now, you just huff out a laugh, grab your drink from the railing, and take another slow sip.  

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

You didn’t know what to make of the dude other than that he’s been out here with you for a while now. Long enough to feel like part of the scenery—like the railing, like the wind, like the streetlights casting long shadows below.

But now that he’s talking and close enough for you to get a good look at him, you realize something.  

He looks… off. 

Not necessarily in a bad way, but in a way that makes your brain take longer to process him.  

Pale. Gaunt. Like he hasn’t slept in a week, maybe two. His dark brown hair is messy, almost like he forgot he had it, and his eyes—deep-set, sunken—hold an intensity that makes it impossible to tell if he’s actually looking at you or through you. He’s thin and wiry, all sharp angles beneath layers of tattered clothing that somehow manage to look effortlessly cool. 

Black-washed jeans, ripped just enough to make it look intentional, a T-shirt barely visible beneath a flannel, and a dark brown jacket that’s seen better days. Perched on his head, a pair of orange goggles sits like a misplaced artifact, out of place but somehow fitting him perfectly.  

Then there’s the grin. Wide. Unsettling. A little too knowing, like he’s in on some joke you haven’t heard yet. His teeth—crooked, sharp-looking—flash in the dim balcony light. Paired with his unblinking stare and the way he barely seems to stand still, it’s enough to make most people uneasy.  

But you? You just study him right back.  

“You checkin’ me out or trying to decide if I’m a serial killer?” His voice is rough, edged with something lazy and amused, the smirk on his lips deepening as he tilts his head slightly.  

You don’t even flinch. “Can’t it be both?”  

His laugh is sharp, quick. “Damn. That’s cold.”  

You shrug, taking another sip of your drink. “Just saying. You’ve got a look.”  

“A look?” He raises an eyebrow—well, what’s left of one. The slit cutting through it adds to the whole deranged but weirdly stylish vibe he’s got going on. “Elaborate.”  

You gesture vaguely at him. “You know. The I may or may not haunt abandoned gas stations look.”  

He barks out another laugh, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “That’s a new one. Not bad. Kinda poetic.”  

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, glancing back at the party inside. “Fits.”  

He watches you for a beat, then leans against the railing beside you, hands slipping into his pockets. The erratic energy he had earlier settles just a bit.  

“So, what’s your deal?” he asks, tilting his head again. “You’re out here looking all brooding and mysterious. Gotta say, if we’re going for aesthetic, you’ve got it locked down.”  

You scoff. “Says the guy with the mad scientist, but make it grunge fit.”  

He grins again, flashing those crooked teeth. “Touché.”  

Silence settles for a moment, but it’s not uncomfortable. Just the two of you leaning against the railing, breathing in the cool night air, letting the distant noise of the party fill the spaces between words.  

Finally, he speaks again. “You gonna leave?”  

You exhale slowly, swirling the liquid in your cup. “Dunno. Maybe.”  

He hums, rocking on his heels. “If you do, try not to get murdered on the way home. Bad way to end the night.”  

You smirk, side-eyeing him. “That a threat?”  

He laughs, shaking his head. “Nah. Just a friendly PSA.”  

For some reason, that makes you laugh, too. And maybe, just maybe, the night doesn’t feel as heavy anymore.

You swirl the last bit of your drink in your cup, watching the way the liquid catches the dim light before glancing back at the guy beside you. He’s still leaning against the railing, a smirk lingering at the corner of his mouth, but his fingers tap restlessly against his jacket, like he’s got too much energy to keep still. His gaze flickers toward you again, catching you staring.  

“What?” he drawls, eyebrow raising slightly.  

You tilt your head, eyes trailing over his face. “Your piercings.”  

His smirk widens. “Damn, if you wanted to check me out, you could’ve just said so.”  

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Relax... Just curious.”  

He chuckles but obliges, turning his head slightly so you can get a better look. Up close, they’re even more noticeable—two silver rings through his lip, a matching set in his eyebrow, slicing through the already-slit brow in a way that somehow makes him look even more chaotic. There’s something deliberate about it, though. Messy but intentional. Like everything about him is designed to make people do a double-take.  

“How many you got?” you ask, squinting slightly.  

He hums, tilting his head as if counting. “Double lip rings, double eyebrow… septum, too.” He gestures vaguely at the silver hoop in his nose. “Had a few more, but, y’know. Shit happens.”  

You nod, studying the way they catch the light. “They suit you.”  

He grins, crooked and toothy. “Damn right they do.”  

There’s something oddly comfortable about standing here, talking like this. The party behind you still rages on, but out here, it’s just the two of you, the night air, and the occasional rumble of a car passing below.  

“You from around here?” you ask, half out of curiosity, half just to keep the conversation going.  

He shrugs, gaze shifting toward the street. “Yeah. Kinda. Grew up a little ways out. Middle of nowhere.”  

“You got family here?”  

His fingers twitch against his jacket again, but he nods. “Used to have a mom and sister growing up. Just us three.”  

You don’t press, but he keeps going anyway, voice a little lighter, like he’s just saying whatever comes to mind.  

“Didn’t really have a lotta friends as a kid. Not the ‘fits in real well’ type, y’know?” He laughs, but there’s something dry about it. “Ended up homeschooled pretty early on.”  

You raise a brow. “Why?”  

Before he can answer, his body suddenly jolts, shoulders snapping upward in a sharp, involuntary motion. His head jerks to the side slightly, fingers twitching, and a small noise escapes him—quick, abrupt.  

You flinch. Just a little. Not on purpose, just out of instinct.  

His head turns toward you again, eyes unreadable for a moment. Then, as if he’s used to it, he gives a breathy chuckle. “Scare you?”  

You shake your head quickly. “No—well. Kinda. Wasn’t expecting it.”  

He shrugs, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking it off. “Yeah, that happens.” He pauses, then sighs, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “I’ve got a disorder. Makes shit like that happen. Tics, muscle movements, sounds, all that fun stuff. Can’t really control it.”  

You blink, processing that. “Does it hurt?”  

He snorts. “Nah. Just annoying. Worse when I’m stressed or whatever.”  

You nod slowly, watching as he twitches again, fingers curling against his palm before relaxing. “That’s why you were homeschooled?”  

His jaw ticks for a second, and then he exhales. “Yeah. Public school wasn’t exactly fun when you twitch like a fuckin’ glitchy video game. Teachers thought I was doing it on purpose, kids thought it was hilarious, and, well. It got old real fast.”  

You frown. “Sounds like bullshit.”  

He lets out a sharp, quick laugh. “Yeah, welcome to my life.”  

For a moment, you don’t say anything, just leaning against the railing as the wind pushes strands of hair into your face. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable talking about it—just matter-of-fact, like it is what it is. But still, you can’t help but feel something about it.  

“You ever, like… wish you were different?” you ask, not sure why you’re even asking.  

He considers that for a second, then shakes his head. “Nah. People suck either way. Might as well be the way I am and make it work.”  

You smirk. “Fair enough.”  

There’s a brief pause before he tilts his head at you, his expression unreadable. Then, with that same sharp grin, he says, “You’re not bad, y’know that?”  

You raise a brow. “What, were you expecting me to be?”  

He laughs. “Dunno. Jury’s still out.” And for some reason, you find yourself laughing, too. That’s when he leans back slightly, stretching his arms behind his head. “Toby, by the way. Short for Tobias.”  

Your lips twitch, barely holding back a smirk. “Tobias?”  

His eyes narrow playfully. “Don’t start.”  

“Oh, I am starting. Tobias? That’s so—”  

He groans, tipping his head back. “Alright, damn, I knew this was a mistake.”  

You chuckle, crossing your arms. “Nah, I like it. Tobias,” you repeat, dragging it out just to mess with him. “Sounds very... proper. Distinguished.”  

“Distinguished my ass,” he scoffs, but there’s an amused glint in his eyes. “Alright, alright, what about you? What’s your name?”  

You share it, though you notice the way he repeats it back, like he’s trying it out on his tongue, testing the way it feels.    

He considers it for a second, then nods. “Yeah. Suits you.”

You show a small smile and swirl the last remnants of your drink, watching the way the liquid catches the dim light. “So,” you start, glancing at him, “do you go to uni around here? Or are you just crashing this party for the hell of it?”  

Toby snickers, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, technically? But not, like… in the ‘good student’ kinda way.”  

You narrow your eyes. “What’s that mean?”  

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice like he’s about to spill some deep, dark secret. “It means,” he drawls, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t snitch, yeah?”  

You blink, thrown off. “Snitch? On what?”  

He grins—sharp, a little too amused. Then, with the most casual ease, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a joint, rolling it between his fingers. “Let’s just say I’m not exactly here for the education.”  

You snort. “You’re selling? At a frat party? Jesus, that’s like the most obvious place to get caught.”  

“Exactly,” he says, flicking a lighter open with a clink—then pausing. He pats his pockets, frowning. “Shit. Left mine back at the house.”  

Without thinking, you reach into your own jacket and pull out your lighter, holding it out.  

He raises a brow, lips quirking. “Damn. Didn’t peg you for a smoker.”  

“I’m not,” you say, flicking it open for him. “More of a drinker.”  

Toby hums, lighting the joint and taking a slow, deep inhale before blowing the smoke out into the night air. “Fair. Drinking’s easier. Weed’s got a whole vibe, though.”  

You shake your head, leaning back against the railing. “Nah. If I’m gonna get wasted, I’d rather do it fast.”  

Toby smirks around the joint, then glances at you with something almost mischievous in his eyes. “You ever shotgun before?”  

You blink. “Shotgun? Like, a beer?”  

“Nah,” he says, stepping just a little closer, tilting his head. “Shotgunning. With weed.” He takes another hit, then gestures loosely. “One person takes a drag, blows the smoke into the other person’s mouth. Real smooth way to convert someone.”  

You stare at him for a second. “That’s a thing?”  

Toby grins, exhaling through his nose. “Oh yeah.”  

You sigh, swirling the last few drops of your drink before setting the bottle on the railing. The buzz in your head is nice, warm, just enough to take the edge off, but not enough to drown out the way the night still feels heavy on your shoulders. The way everything has felt heavy lately. 

Maybe that’s why you’re still standing out here, entertaining this conversation instead of making up some excuse to leave. Maybe that’s why, when Toby takes another slow drag from his joint, you catch yourself watching the way his lips part, the ember at the tip glowing faintly in the dark.  

Fuck it.  

You tilt your head, eyes half-lidded, tired but sharp. “Alright,” you murmur, voice low, almost lazy. “Let’s do it.”  

Toby pauses mid-inhale, blinking at you like he wasn’t actually expecting you to say yes. Then, his grin spreads slowly and crooked across his face, like you just made his night. “Oh? Thought you weren’t into smoking.”  

You shrug, licking your lips. “I’m not.” You shift slightly, stepping just a little closer, gaze flicking from his mouth to the joint and back again. “But I’m also kinda drunk and bored, so…”  

He huffs a laugh, tapping his fingers against the joint. “Fair enough.” Then, with no hesitation, he takes a long, deep pull, holding the smoke in his mouth before leaning in, bringing himself just inches from you.  

“C’mere,” he murmurs, voice smooth, inviting.  

You exhale slowly through your nose, then close the distance, tilting your chin up. His hand lifts, fingers grazing your jaw, tilting your face just right before he leans in closer, until his lips are barely a breath from yours. Then—he exhales.  

The smoke pours from his mouth to yours, curling between your parted lips, thick and heady. You inhale, slow and steady, the burn unfamiliar but not unpleasant, and for a split second, you don’t know if it’s the weed, the alcohol, or the way he’s looking at you, but the moment feels thick—charged. His eyes flicker down to your lips, lingering, and you feel your pulse spike just a little.  

You exhale, blowing the smoke out past him, your breath mingling in the cold air between you. “Not bad,” you mutter, licking the taste of it off your lips.  

Toby smirks, leaning back just slightly, but his eyes are still on you, dark and amused. “You look real good doing that, y’know.”  

You scoff, shaking your head. “You say that to all your customers?”  

“Nah,” he says, tapping the ash off the joint, gaze still steady on you. “Just the ones that make it look hot.”  

You don’t break eye contact, and neither does he. The world around you fades, just a hum of music and muffled voices, but it feels like you’re in your little bubble. You’re still leaning in close enough to feel his breath, the faintest warmth of it on your skin. 

For a second, it almost feels like you’re both suspended, not really here, not really there, just caught somewhere in between. 

Toby tilts his head slightly, a glint of something almost mischievous in his eyes. “You sure you don’t want another hit?”  

You raise an eyebrow, your lips curling into something just shy of a smile. “I’m good,” you say, voice steady, though your pulse is a little too fast, a little too loud in your ears.  

He shrugs, pulling the joint away from his lips and holding it out to you. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”  

You lean in a little closer, just enough for your shoulders to brush, and for a split second, there’s that spark again. Something in his eyes shifts, something deeper—an almost flickering challenge. “You’re cocky, aren’t you?”  

He looks down at you, a small, crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe.” He taps his fingers lightly against the side of his jacket, his other hand still holding the joint between his fingers. “But cocky’s fun, don’t you think?”  

The words hang between you, the moment stretching. 

He’s close. 

Too close, but somehow, it doesn’t feel too much. And for a split second, you forget why you came out here. Forget about all the noise, the chaos of the party inside, the fact that you should probably be making your exit.  

Maybe you just want to stay here for a second longer, where the world is quieter. Where it’s just you, him, and the cool night air.  

The joint is still in his hand, the ember glowing faintly in the dim light. He lifts it again, but this time, instead of offering it to you, he holds it up between you, right in your line of sight. “You don’t gotta take another hit, but...” He leans in, his voice dipping low, more playful now. “How about a little more fun?”  

Your brows furrow, and you tilt your head, lips just curling with curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”  

“Shotgunning,” he repeats, voice light but with a dangerous edge to it, almost teasing. He flicks his eyes down to your lips again before looking back up at you. “But this time... I’ll let you call the shots.”  

There’s something undeniably bold about the way he says it, about the way his fingers graze your wrist lightly as he holds the joint between you. You could back off. Step away. Act like it’s no big deal. But the way he’s looking at you makes your heart skip a beat, makes that little voice in your head scream fuck it.  

So, without thinking, you nod. “Fine. Let’s do it.”  

He grins, his eyes lighting up with something between amusement and approval. “I like that. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”  

You can’t help but laugh softly, the sound mixing with the music still booming behind you. “You sure about that?”  

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he moves in closer, just enough for his breath to fan across your face before he places the joint between your lips, his fingers brushing against your skin. You lean into the contact, your pulse picking up. His lips hover just barely above yours, and for a moment, you think he might kiss you—but he pulls back instead, exhaling slowly into the space between you.  

The smoke fills the air, surrounding you in a cloud thick enough to make you dizzy, your body sinking deeper into the moment, feeling all kinds of electric, like you’re both too aware of the tension buzzing between you. You inhale the smoke, pulling it into your lungs. It’s harsh, but your body adapts.  

When you finally exhale, Toby is watching you closely, his smirk now gone, replaced with something far more intense. “You’re good at this,” he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper in the night air. “You ever do this with anyone before?”  

You shake your head, voice low and steady. “No. First time for everything, right?”  

He chuckles, but there’s a sharpness to it. “That’s what they say.” He leans back, finally pulling the joint from his mouth, the glow dimming as he exhales the smoke. “You’ve got guts. I respect that.”  

You give him a slight, teasing smile. “Respect doesn’t mean much at a frat party, though.”  

Toby tilts his head, his smirk returning, but it’s a little more dangerous now. “Maybe. But I think we’re having a pretty good time, don’t you?”  

You don’t answer immediately. Instead, you just look at him, feeling the weight of the moment, the way the night’s still lingering between you two like something neither of you want to admit out loud. You can feel the air crackling with a kind of dangerous fun, and you know—you’re not about to walk away from this anytime soon.

The air between you and Toby is thick with unspoken tension, his eyes flickering to your lips for a moment, then back to your eyes, as if waiting for something, daring you to make the first move. You stare back at him, the weight of his gaze making your pulse race, but you’re not about to let him off that easily.  

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he teases, his voice a smooth, low drawl. “Did I break you already?”  

You roll your eyes, stepping back a little. “Please. I’m just trying to figure out if you’re a guy who talks big or if you can actually back it up.”  

Toby laughs softly, the sound vibrating through the air between you. “I back up everything I say.”  

“Oh really?” You arch an eyebrow, keeping your stance cool and unbothered. “Then prove it.”  

A shift passes through him, a flash of something dangerous and playful all at once. Before you can react, he steps forward, his movements fast, almost too quick. Before you know it, you’re backed up against the cold wooden railing of the balcony, your hands instinctively gripping the edge as he pins you there with just enough force to make your heart skip a beat.  

“Wha—” You cut yourself off, taken by surprise, eyes wide.  

Toby’s face is inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. His hands are on either side of you, not touching you, but close enough to feel the heat radiating from his fingertips. His gaze drops to your lips again, then back to your eyes, a challenge in his smirk.  

“Maybe you should be careful what you wish for,” he murmurs, his voice suddenly softer, almost dangerous. “You sure you wanna play with me like this?”  

You laugh, though it comes out breathless, feeling the adrenaline rush in your veins. “I didn’t ask you to pin me, but hey, guess this is what you meant by ‘proving it,’ huh?”  

He grins wider, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Mhm.” But then, the teasing in his voice falters just a little, and something shifts. He leans in a little closer, close enough that you can feel the tension building between you. “You don’t really get it, do you?”  

“What, that you’re just another bad boy with an attitude?” You quip, trying to keep the mood light, but you can feel your chest tightening, your breath hitching in your throat.  

Toby chuckles darkly, but it’s not mocking—this time, there’s something different behind it. “Nah. You’re not wrong, but that’s not what I mean. What I mean is…” He pauses, eyes flashing as he watches you carefully. He leans even closer, just barely touching your arm with his, and you feel the electricity run through you, like he’s teasing you, daring you to break first. “I’m not the type to let things go without finishing them. And that includes… whatever this is.”  

You take a breath—your heart racing. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, the weed, or just the way he’s looking at you right now, but the tension is practically suffocating. You can feel him leaning in, tempting, his lips just barely brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers, “You think I’m just gonna let you walk away after that?”  

You should pull away. 

You should walk back inside and call it a night. 

But you don’t. 

You stay there, leaning back against the railing, watching him carefully, breathing in the same air, the same heat, the same anticipation.  

And then, without thinking, you lean up just a little, your face hovering dangerously close to his. “I think you might surprise me,” you murmur, your voice low, teasing, but there’s a challenge in it now.  

Toby’s eyes flash, his gaze burning into yours, and you feel the pull between you intensify. But before either of you can make the first move, the world around you shifts again.  

His hand is on the railing beside you, his body leaning just a little closer, but suddenly, there’s this split second of hesitation in his eyes. His lips part, and for the first time tonight, he looks unsure.  

“You’re not scared, are you?” You whisper, leaning in just a little more, watching the way his lips twitch.  

Toby’s chest rises and falls with a deep breath, and for a moment, you see it—the tension in his body, the war within him between wanting to give in to that dangerous impulse and knowing there’s a line that’s too far to cross.  

Then, with a sharp exhale, he pulls back slightly, running a hand through his messy hair, the motion almost like he’s trying to shake off whatever just happened. “You think I’m scared?”  

You smile, watching him carefully. “I don’t know, are you?”  

He grins, though it’s not nearly as playful as before. It’s something else, something that says he’s not backing down, but maybe he’s not quite ready for whatever happens next, either.  

“Nah,” he says, leaning back just enough to give you space, but his gaze is still heavy, still burning with something almost dangerous. “I’m not scared.”  

You both stand there for a second, caught in the lingering heat of the moment, neither of you speaking, but the air feels thick with the possibility of something that might happen if either of you makes the wrong move.  

And neither of you know what’s next. 

The tension between you and Toby has stretched taut, like an elastic band about to snap. You can’t help the way your body leans instinctively toward him, and as if on cue, he leans in just a fraction closer. 

The space between you has shrunk to nothing, leaving only the thundering of your heartbeat in your ears. His breath ghosts across your lips, warm and steady, and for a moment, the whole world around you disappears—the thumping music, the chatter from inside, even the cool night air that brushes against your skin. 

It’s just him, so close you can feel the pulse of his energy, his presence like a current that pulls you in deeper.

You’re completely caught in the moment, every nerve in your body humming with anticipation, when his hand suddenly finds your waist, fingers pressing against the fabric of your dress. 

The heat of his palm sears through the thin material, his touch gentle at first, almost hesitant—as if waiting for a sign. But then, the pressure intensifies. His grip tightens, dragging you closer to him, the movement swift and sure, until your body is flush against his.

Now, you feel everything. 

The hard planes of his chest, the quick beat of his heart that matches your frantic pulse. But it’s the sensation of his lips that gets you the most—his pierced lips brushing against yours, the slight click of metal against metal. 

You can feel the cool weight of his lip rings as they press softly against your mouth, a contrast to the heat of his skin beneath them. Each breath you take mixes with his; his lips barely brush yours, sending sparks through your veins. The sensation of those piercings, a gentle reminder of the tension that’s been building between you, makes your pulse quicken even more.  

Your heart is pounding so hard it feels like it’s going to burst through your ribs, but you don’t move away. You inch closer, your lips almost brushing as you finally let your eyes fall shut. 

And that’s when Toby makes the move.

He closes the space between you, tilting his head just enough so that his lips crash into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. It’s messy at first, neither of you quite in sync, but the desperation of it is overwhelming. His hand on your waist pulls you tighter, your chest pressed flush against his, the way his fingers dig into your skin making a fire run through your veins. 

His other hand cups your face, pulling you even closer, his thumb tracing the edge of your jawline, before his lips find yours again, this time with more certainty.

You respond without hesitation, your own hands reaching up, tangling in his hair, fingers scraping lightly against his scalp. It’s frantic, wild—like neither of you wants to stop, even though you both know it’s almost too much, too fast. His lips are soft but hungry, and the feeling of his breath against your mouth, the pulse of his body under your hands, drives you crazy. He pulls you even closer until there’s no space between you left at all, and for a moment, you feel like you’re melting into him.

His hand moves down your back, tracing the curve of your spine, and you can feel his body shifting against yours, more attuned now, his movements smoother, as if he’s figuring out the rhythm between the two of you. He pulls you closer still, his grip on your waist firm, but careful—he’s holding you there but not letting you fall. You can feel the tension in his body, the way it shakes under the intensity of the kiss, and for a moment, it feels like time itself stops.

But then, he pulls back just slightly, his lips still lingering on yours, his forehead resting gently against yours as he catches his breath. His hand on your waist softens, his thumb tracing little circles against your skin. There’s a grin on his face when you open your eyes, the hint of mischief and satisfaction in it, but there’s something else, too. Something softer.  

“That was... unexpected,” he says, his voice rough, his lips swollen from the kiss.  

You smile, your heart still racing, and before you can stop yourself, you laugh softly. “You think?” You’re breathless, a little dazed, but that feeling of heat isn’t going anywhere.  

Toby just shakes his head, a cocky grin forming on his lips. “You should be careful, you know. I can be a dangerous distraction.”  

You tilt your head, a teasing glint in your eyes. “I don’t mind a little danger.”  

His grin widens, and he pulls you closer again, his lips brushing yours once more, just barely, before he pulls back and whispers, “I think you like the danger, don't you?”  

The smirk he gives you is enough to make your stomach flip, and for the first time tonight, you feel like you’re actually in control of the situation. He’s looking at you like he’s waiting for something, lips barely brushing yours, making you ache for him to close the space. He’s teasing you, daring you with every second that passes, but now—now—it’s your turn.

Without thinking, you close the gap between you, pushing up on your toes just enough to press your lips firmly against his. It's a soft, slow kiss at first, just a gentle brush, but the second your lips touch his, you feel him stiffen, his breath hitching, and you can't help but grin against him. You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, watching his face for that split-second moment of confusion before he smirks, a wicked glint in his eyes.

“You make a good killer, you know that?” Toby murmurs, his voice low and teasing, as if he’s figured something out that you haven’t. 

You pull back slightly, furrowing your brow in confusion. “What?” You stare at him for a second, half lost in the buzz of the moment. “What the hell does that even mean?”  

He just grins wider, leaning closer again, his lips hovering near your ear. “You just know how to fuck with someone, don’t you? You keep them on edge, make them think you’re in control... I like it.” He pulls away just enough to give you a look that could melt steel. “Makes me wanna do something naughty with you out here.” 

Your stomach flutters at the word “naughty” as you tilt your head, leaning in with a sly smile. "Naughty, huh?" you tease, raising an eyebrow. "What, like throw me over the railing or something?"  

Toby’s eyes flicker with something dangerous and fun, and for a moment, he looks like he's actually considering it. Then, his grin curls back up, and he shakes his head. “Nah, not that reckless. But I’m sure we could find something equally interesting." His hand finds the back of your neck, pulling you in close again, the heat of his body overwhelming you. 

“I’m down for whatever,” you reply, your voice low, teasing, but laced with something more daring. You could feel him stiffen again, his breath catching as your words land, and you know you’ve pushed him right to the edge.

“Well," Toby breathed, lips brushing against your ear again, sending a shiver down your spine, "I think a little trouble in a frat house balcony could be exactly what we both need right now." 

You chuckle, the sound playful but daring. "What, just like that? You sure you can handle it?" 

Toby’s smile is all mischief now. “Oh, I can handle it. The question is—can you?” 

You feel the smirk spread across your face, the excitement of this new, strange, and slightly reckless vibe pulling you deeper into the moment. Toby’s hand is still resting lightly on the back of your neck, and his thumb traces small, lazy circles against your skin, a contrast to the tension in the air between you two. It’s like a silent dare now, like you both know exactly what’s coming, and yet, neither of you are willing to back down.

You look up at him, eyes sharp and playful, the lingering buzz of your earlier kiss still fresh on your lips. "I guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we?" you say, your voice barely above a whisper, like you’re sharing a secret no one else is supposed to hear. 

Toby raises an eyebrow, the corner of his lips curling upward. He leans in just enough that you feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body is still taut with energy, ready to make a move. “I’d say you make the first move, but I think you’re already way ahead of me.” His voice drops, getting even lower, almost conspiratorial. “You’re killing me right now, y’know that?”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and carefree, as if you’re both suddenly in on some twisted little game. "Yeah, well, you had it coming," you reply, your eyes flicking from his lips to the dark smirk on his face.

Before he can respond, you take a step back, making the deliberate choice to break the tension between you—just enough to give him a taste of his own medicine. You casually lean against the balcony railing, your fingers grazing the cool wood, as you look up at the stars for a moment, letting the cool night air settle over you.

But Toby isn’t backing off. You can feel his presence behind you, the way his gaze never leaves you. The next thing you know, you feel him step up behind you, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes your breath catch. His hand slides over the railing, right next to yours, almost like he’s claiming his space in your little world. 

“I thought you said you liked danger?” His voice is thick with challenge now, a note of amusement threading through the words. “You sure you’re not regretting that little move you made earlier?”

You turn your head slightly, meeting his gaze over your shoulder, and the look in his eyes makes your pulse spike again. There's an intensity there, the same unrelenting intensity that’s been building all night, and it’s clear you’re both on the verge of something that might take you somewhere you didn’t expect.

"I don’t regret shit," you say, your voice steady but carrying that edge of flirtation. "And if you're smart, neither will you."

His grin grows, something darker flickering in his eyes as he leans even closer, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers, “Then let’s find out how far this can go… before we both regret it.”

You’re both too close now, and the space between you becomes a silent promise. His lips brush against your ear, the sensation sending a wave of heat rushing through your body. The night, the party, the chaos all fade into the background as your mind fixates on the moment, on the unspoken agreement between you two.

You could walk away, pretend like this was all just a stupid flirtation—but you’re not ready to. 

Not yet. 

Something about Toby, about the fire that’s been burning between you since the first kiss, pulls you in like gravity.

Before you can even think, you’re turning around, moving into him again, your lips finding his with a fierceness that surprises you both. His hands are at your waist, pulling you in, and for a moment, everything else disappears. It’s just him and you, bodies pressing against each other, the intensity of it all turning your head to mush.

Toby’s grip tightens on your waist, pulling you in even closer, and for a second, you almost think you might lose balance as his body presses against yours. But his attention shifts, and you feel him start to trail his lips down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as his lips graze the sensitive curve of your neck. The sensation sends a wave of shivers down your spine, your breath catching as you try to process what’s happening.

Before you can react, his teeth nip at the soft skin of your neck, just enough to sting but not too much to hurt. You gasp, a surprised laugh escaping you, but before you can say anything, he pulls back just enough to look at you with a wild grin, eyes gleaming with something mischievous.

“You sure you can handle this?” His voice is a low, almost amused growl, the edges of it thick with the lingering haze of his intoxication.

You’re about to respond when, without warning, his mouth is back on you, this time sucking lightly on the sensitive skin of your neck, the bites turning into licks as his hand slips under the hem of your dress. Your heart races, and your body reacts before your mind does, your head tilting back to give him more access, the sensation turning from playful to something hotter, needier. 

It’s almost like everything’s moving in slow motion, but in the best way possible—each movement from him feels deliberate and intoxicating, and you can’t help but feel that rush of excitement that comes with giving in just a little more.

The air between you crackles with heat, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts as his lips leave your neck only for a second before returning with a little more pressure, his teeth grazing the skin as his tongue follows with a hot, hungry lick.

You gasp, feeling the unexpected heat of it flood your senses, and your hands grip the railing behind you, trying to steady yourself as the dizziness from the moment intensifies.

“F-Fuck,” you hear him mutter under his breath, and it’s clear he’s getting lost in the moment, high on the feeling of being this close to you. “You taste so damn g-good.” His voice is rough now, almost feral, and it makes your chest tighten with a mix of desire and thrill.

Before you can process it, his lips are back on yours, deeper this time, his tongue slipping past your lips with an urgency that has you scrambling to keep up. The kiss is messy and chaotic, but it’s exactly what both of you want right now. There’s no stopping it, no turning back. His hands roam lower, his fingers brushing against the soft curve of your thigh before sliding underneath the fabric of your dress. The sensation of his fingers against your skin is almost too much, and you can feel yourself leaning into him, just wanting more, needing more.

It’s only when you hear a distant laugh from the party, a burst of loud music drifting through the close balcony doors, that the reality of the situation hits you again. The world outside is still there, the frat party still rages on, but here—right here—it’s just the two of you, caught in something that’s starting to feel less like a game and more like an escape.

The next thing you know, Toby’s hands are under your thighs, and before you can even react, he lifts you effortlessly off the ground. You gasp, the sudden movement catching you off guard for a split second. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, holding onto him as your heart skips a beat, both from the surprise and the wild rush of adrenaline. 

Your eyes flick to the balcony’s edge, the dizzying height of the drop below making your stomach lurch. You freeze for a second, panic surging through you as your grip tightens around his shoulders. The thought of falling—of losing control—flashes through your mind, but Toby’s quick to steady you, his arms firm and secure around your body. 

The flicker of amusement in his eyes almost makes you want to punch him, but the smile playing on his lips tells you he’s enjoying every second of this. “You looked like you were gonna scream for a sec there,” he laughs softly, leaning in to kiss your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he holds you effortlessly against him. 

You let out a breath, more out of relief than anything else, before narrowing your eyes at him. “You think you’re funny?” you mutter, but there’s no real anger behind the words. If anything, you’re starting to get lost in the way his hands feel on you, the way his touch sends heat coursing through your body.

He grins wider, lowering you down onto the balcony railing, your legs still wrapped around him as he keeps you close, his grip never faltering. The cool night air brushes against your exposed skin as you sit on the edge, your body feeling vulnerable yet somehow more alive than ever.

Toby’s hand slides beneath the lace of your dress, his fingers skimming over your thigh in slow, deliberate movements. His touch is gentle at first, but it soon intensifies, the feeling of his fingertips against the soft fabric of your tights making you shiver. His eyes are fixed on you, studying your reactions as if he’s trying to read you like a book. 

"God, you're killing me," he murmurs, voice rough as his hand moves higher, rubbing over your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress up just a little more. You feel the heat of his hand through the lace, and your body instinctively tenses, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation swirling inside you.

"You like that, don't you?" he says, his tone teasing, knowing exactly how to push your buttons. His fingers slip further under the lace, brushing against the smooth skin of your thigh, and you can feel the pressure building between you, a connection so strong it’s almost suffocating.

You don’t answer right away, not sure how to even put words to the feeling bubbling up inside of you. Instead, you just let out a shaky breath, your grip tightening around his neck, pulling him in closer as you press your lips against his, kissing him deeply, fiercely—making up for the tension you’ve both been holding onto all night. 

Toby responds immediately, his hands sliding further up your thigh, his fingers brushing against your skin with a new urgency. His lips are on yours again, hungry and demanding, as he holds you firmly against him, the world around you disappearing with every passing second.

You can feel his body heating up under your touch, the rapid rise and fall of his chest matching your own. His hands are everywhere, exploring the curve of your body with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

Toby watches you closely, his gaze intent, studying your every reaction. He knows he’s got you, and he’s more than willing to make you squirm a little bit before you give him exactly what he wants. 

He shifts slightly, his fingers tracing lightly along lace underwear, moving in slow, deliberate circles. The touch is soft at first, barely a graze, but it doesn’t stay that way for long before he moves them out of his way.

His two fingers increase their pressure, adding another, gradually rubbing up and down your clit, the sensation making you feel every inch of your skin tingle with anticipation. His touch is deceptively gentle, but you can tell from the way he’s looking at you that he’s playing with you—testing your limits.

With every pass of his fingers, he brings more heat, his touch becoming firmer, just enough to make your breath catch—feeling him drawing the tip of his finger back and forth and pressing his thumb over the shy pearl. Power and control danced on his face, gratification beaming on the brown haze of his glare as he manipulated you to his will.

You kept in the most sinful moans—not allowing it to break through your mouth to prevent others below the frat party from hearing. Spread wide open only for him, you shoved against the stroke of his hand and then choked over his forearm, riding his finger, clenching, pulsating desperately for release. 

You feel your heart thundering in your chest, the space between you and him narrowing with every passing second, the tension thickening until it’s almost unbearable.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, his voice low and coaxing, “I’m waiting.”

Toby leans back slightly, his eyes scanning you in a way that feels more predatory than appreciative. He’s got that smirk on his lips, like he knows exactly how much he’s getting under your skin. And if he’s being honest, he kinda enjoys it.

You look up at him, trying to steady yourself, but there’s something in his gaze that makes it hard to focus. His fingers suddenly move inside you, a subtle shift in pressure making you shiver under his touch, forcing your face into his shoulder. “You’ve been teasing me all night,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now, “and now you’re not gonna answer? That’s not fair.”

You bite your lip, your body trembling from the mix of frustration and desire.  The way his fingers slowly move in and out of your, each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake, it’s almost too much to handle. You slammed your eyes shut and bucked your hips, legs quaking as he skilfully curled his long, hard-working digit inside you and stroked all the right places. 

“You’re such a little mess, so tight for me…” he growls, his eyes flicking down to your dress, the way it clings to your skin. “…I’m surprised you haven’t already fallen apart, acting like you don’t want this. You’ve been eyeing me all night—don’t pretend like you don’t need someone to fuck the attitude out of you.”

The words are sharp, venomous even, and they hit harder than you want to admit. But there’s something in the way he says it—something like a challenge. It’s almost like he wants you to fight back, to prove that you’re not just another girl who’s going to let him get away with everything.

But you don’t back down. You narrow your eyes at him, lips curling into a defiant smile, even though your pulse is racing.

"Is that all you’ve got?" you retort, voice steady, though you can feel a sharp edge of annoyance creeping in. His words have already struck a nerve, but you're not about to let him see that. "Is that how you think you’re gonna get me to bend for you? Just call me a tease and hope I’ll fall for it?"

Toby grins, that cocky, self-satisfied grin, “Maybe…” like he’s just been handed the upper hand. There’s something undeniably infuriating—and yet, strangely enticing—about how he carries himself. Without a word, he lifted his hand, his three fingers coated with a thick, creamy layer.

You watch, transfixed, as he slowly brings his fingers to his lips, deliberately teasing you. He licks them clean, savoring every bit of your wetness, the way his tongue flicks over his fingers in that maddeningly slow motion. The sight of him is almost too much, and you can’t help but feel a rush of heat spread through your body.

You can’t tear your eyes away from him. 

The way he’s looking at you, the way he’s playing with your head, it makes everything feel ten times more intense. 

There’s something about the messiness of it all—the way he’s teasing and how everything feels so raw, so unpolished—that drives you wild. 

“Matter of fact…” Toby mumbles, his words a little slower as his body tenses for a moment, the muscles in his face twitching before he grins. His eyes gleam with a sudden spark of mischief, something darker slipping in. “Let’s change it up.”

Without warning, Toby forces you over the balcony railing—bending you over the edge of it and hands digging into your lower hips as he traps you between it and his body. 

You’re completely against him now, feeling the sudden pressure bulge agasint your ass catching you off guard. Your breath hitches, and your heart races. The space between you two feels dangerously small, and the night air seems colder now, but it only heightens the sensation of heat between your bodies.

The movement is rough; you feel the firm grip of his hands pushing your lace dress—just hands on your ass—quickly removing your underwear, making you shiver from the coolness of the outside air. He grins wider as his face is right next to your neck, letting a line of kisses you against your skin, biting at the sensitive skin, enough to make you shiver. He then begins to whisper in your ear. 

“Maybe bending you like this will make you listen.”

Your body trembles under the firm grip of his hands, a shudder rolling through you as the cool night air brushes against your flushed skin. The sharp contrast between the warmth of his touch and the chill of the balcony railing sends a wave of sensation through you, making you suck in a quiet breath. Your back presses against the wooden banister, the hard surface grounding you, but it does little to stop the way your pulse pounds in your throat.  

"What… are you—" The words catch in your throat, slipping away before you can fully voice them. Your mind is a whirlwind, caught between confusion, excitement, and the undeniable pull of something far more dangerous—the way his presence, his touch, his entire being coils around your senses like a vice.  

And then, the quiet sound of a zipper lowering reaches your ears. The realization of how far things are escalating makes your breath hitch, a sharp jolt of awareness cutting through the haze. But before you can react, the feeling of his lips grazing your neck—hot, teasing, sharp with the occasional scrape of his teeth—draws a quiet gasp from your lips.  

“W-wait,” you mumble, voice barely above a whisper, mindful of the fact that just beyond this balcony, the party is still raging. The pulse of the music thrums in the background, but it feels miles away compared to the intensity pressing against you.  

“The party is going on inside—what if someone comes—” You start, your voice faltering under the weight of the moment.  

Toby doesn’t give you the chance to finish. He chuckles, a low, knowing sound that rumbles against your skin as his lips graze your jawline. “What’s the matter?” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement. “Don’t tell me you’re getting shy now.”  

His grip tightens slightly, grounding, teasing. “You wouldn’t have let me get this far if you didn’t want it.”  

The words send a fresh wave of heat through you, your body reacting before your mind can form a response. Your lips part slightly, but no words come out. It’s hard to think with him so close, the press of his body leaving little space for doubt. His hand, rough and warm, traces down your thigh, the light scrape of his fingertips against the lace of your dress making your skin prickle with anticipation.  

His thumb presses agsint your clit—just enough to make you shiver, the simple movement sending a spark straight through you. He watches, eyes flicking over your expression, drinking in every reaction with a crooked grin. “That’s what I thought,” he mutters, voice thick with satisfaction before his mouth now slightly parted into a curious grin.

“You better be on the pill,” he mutters, his voice low and unbothered, like he’s already got you figured out.  

Your breath catches, not just from his words but from everything—his touch, the press of his body, the way his fingers tease against your skin like he already owns every reaction. That smug tone, laced with amusement, does something worse than his hands ever could. It lights something deep in your chest, a slow burn that spreads through your veins, making it impossible to think straight.  

“I’m… I am,” you manage, though your voice is shaky, uneven. “But we’re still…”  

Still what? Still on a balcony where anyone could walk out? Still caught up in something that feels reckless, dangerous—like a bad idea wrapped up in the kind of temptation that makes your head spin? You try to grasp onto logic, try to force your mind to play catch-up, but it’s already slipping, unraveling under the weight of his heat, his presence.  

You shouldn’t be here. 

You shouldn’t be doing this. 

Drunk or high, you can’t even tell anymore, but it doesn’t change the fact that this should be the kind of thing you stop before it goes too far.  

But let’s be for real. You’re not stopping.  

No. There’s no way in hell you’re leaving this frat party without Toby fucking your brains out.  

He must see it, must read every thought flickering behind your eyes, because that grin only grows, a flash of teeth in the dim lighting. “You’re getting all breathy and desperate just from a little touch…” His voice is like velvet, dark amusement lacing every word. His fingers trail higher, deliberate and slow, dragging shivers in their wake.  

Toby pulled your hips until the head of his cock was prodding at your entrance and he sighed, mumbling  mumbling so quietly you almost didn't catch it, “And you’re gonna be good and keep quiet, right?” He asked, 

You shivered as his words hit you, your face reddening even more. "I..." You gasped softly when Toby finally pressed inside you with ease, a disgustingly wet sound filling the air. He groaned in your ear when he bottomed out, pulling you in hard by your waist as if he was desperate to get even deeper. 

If you had any lingering doubts left in that pretty little head of yours, they sure as hell weren’t there now. And if, by some miracle, you still had a shred of shame about the absolute spectacle you were making of yourself—getting railed by some guy you just met, on a damn frat house balcony, with a whole ass party raging behind you—well, the pure, mind-numbing ecstasy currently wrecking through your body must’ve knocked that shame clean out of you.

Toby’s cock stretched you perfectly, deeply, and you could feel him in your stomach as prominently as the butterflies. You thought his fingers reached deep, but this was on a whole different level. His frame leant over yours, and his breath was hot on your neck. You felt close to him now, closer than ever before, and that thought sent you right to heaven. 

He felt so good, so perfect, so right. 

It was everything you had imagined and once he started moving, fuck, it was so much more. 

“T-That's so good.” He chuckled slightly and then started to kiss your neck while slowly thrusting inside you. Each time he fucked into you, he took note of the moans barely left your mouth—it’s good that you listen.

“G-God, shit, oh my God, feels so good," Toby stammered in between shaky breaths, his voice light and barely audible over your noises and the sound of skin slapping against skin. 

You stared down at the mess of drunken idiots stumbling around below, completely unaware of the absolute shitshow happening just a few feet above their heads. You came out here for fresh air, maybe to sip your drink in peace, not to—well, not this.  

Your fingers curled around the wooden railing, nails digging into the worn-out surface like it might somehow ground you. Spoiler: It didn’t. Not with him behind you, making it real damn hard to focus on anything but the way he was ruining you in the best way possible.  

You were starting to adjust, getting used to the feeling—if that was even possible—but fuck, he knew exactly what he was doing. And of course he did. The bastard was enjoying this way too much.

You were straight-up whimpering now—pathetic little sounds slipping out whether you liked it or not. And as long as you kept this up? Yeah, sure, the balcony wasn’t made of glass—thank god for small mercies, but let’s be real—anyone walking past that door would 100% hear you two. 

No doubt about it.  

They’d hear every little gasp, every moan, every damn noise spilling out of your mouth, and they’d know exactly what was happening just beyond that door.  

And you know what? That should probably freak you out. Should make you wanna shut up, be careful, maybe even reconsider your life choices.  

But nope. Instead, it just made you even more turned on.

Toby’s hand tangled in your hair, fingertips grazing your scalp in a way that sent a mix of tingles and heat straight down your spine. He gave a teasing little pull, not enough to hurt—just enough to remind you who was in control here. His movements were rough, almost fast-paced—there was no mistaking his focus. When he pressed inside, he rolled his hips into you, pushing his cock in as deep as he could manage. He was reluctant to pull away, but when he did, the feeling of your cunt sucking him back in made him delirious. 

He was dragging this out. Because of course, he was.

“Shhh, shhh,” he cooed when you let a sound slip, his voice laced with amusement but making absolutely no effort to actually help your situation. “You were being so good for me, don’t start getting all loud now.”

And then—because he just had to—he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin before his teeth tugged at your earlobe. 

Toby definitely hadn’t expected his night to turn out like this. Random parties weren’t exactly his thing—hell, he’d only come to make a few deals and get the hell out. When he saw you step onto the balcony, he hadn’t thought much about it at first, too busy with his phone call to care. 

But the second that call ended? 

Yeah. That was different.

And, naturally, you wanted to talk to him. Because, of course, you did.

Thing was, his original plan? It had been simple—get a little fun out of you, maybe a quick makeout session, and call it a win. But considering he had aimed for kissing and now had you pressed up against this railing, looking at him like he was the only thing keeping you breathing? Yeah. His plan went way better than expected.

“F-Fuck—fuck you feel so good," Toby moaned when he pressed into you again, feeling your walls squeeze around his cock.

Everything he was waiting for finally became realized, and yet, there was still a part of him who wasn't fully satisfied. There was still a part of him who was desperate for more. He asked quietly, mostly to himself, "Why can't I get enough of you?" 

You were wondering about the same question. Why couldn't you get enough of him? You wanted more, you needed more. You wanted to plead for him to go faster, harder, deeper, louder, but when you opened your mouth, your thoughts were so scrambled that the only word you could think to say was, "More." 

Thankfully, Toby got the hint, and he picked up the pace. The whole desk shook as his hips began to snap forward faster and rougher, giving you the relief you had been searching for. You felt an overwhelming euphoria in your core each time he thrusted in. “Ahh..  please don't stop,” You cried out a little louder than you should have, already forgetting that he told you to quiet down.  

“T-Tell me," Toby choked out between gasps, his voice getting hoarse, "Tell me how good it feels to be bend over by me?”

“It feels good… so good… god, it... feels amazing..," You gasp out, just dazed out of your mind.

He let out a soft, breathy moan before nodding his head* "Mhm~ yeah?" 

He chuckled slightly at how dazed you were, his hands gripping onto your hips a little tighter.

"Then... tell me you're mine.” He said, his breath warm against your ear. He started moving a little bit faster, and a moan escaped his mouth before it was cut off by his biting his lip.

You breathe hitches. You can barely form a coherent thought with pleasure coursing through you, but somehow, she manages to speak through gasps and moans. "I-I'm yours... all yours..."

It wasn’t long before Toby abruptly pulled out of you, grabbing your waist and twisting you around until your legs were wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck to prevent falling. His mouth was on yours in an instant, your eyes fluttering closed as he kissed you sloppily. His lips felt just as soft as before, but this kiss was much rougher and messier, driven by a fever of desire. 

One of his hands gripped your waist firmly, keeping you steady against the balcony, while the other moved with a slow, deliberate touch, skimming your chest, sending waves of heat through you. The pressure of his hands was both grounding and electric, making it hard to focus as your pulse quickened in response.

"Close, so close," Toby stammered into your ear, his head dropping to the nape of your neck. His breath was hot, and loose strands of his hair tickled your skin. His thrusts were erratic as he began to lose his rhythm. 

“Please keep going, just like that," You pleaded, feeling your release coming closer as well. You brought your hand to the back of Toby’s head, feeling his soft hair beneath your fingers. Your legs around his back tightened as you pressed him closer to you. 

"Tell me more," Toby groaned, his voice thick with desire as his hand found yours, fingers wrapping around yours with a firm, almost desperate grip. The weight of his touch, his palm slick with sweat, sent a jolt through your body. He held your hand like he needed it—like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality in this moment. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the control he usually had, and you couldn’t help but wonder... Was it just the rush, or did he need to hear it?  

You blinked, unsure if he was asking for more praise or if this was something deeper—something he craved. Maybe a little of both.  

"I—It's so good, Toby," you whispered, your breath catching as your body responded without warning. You didn’t think, didn’t need to, as your fingers slid into his hair, gripping it tightly, pulling him closer in a way that made him gasp. It felt like you were tugging at his very soul, your nails almost catching in the strands, and the soft tug made him exhale sharply.  

“Only you, Toby. You're the only one, please—don't stop,” you found yourself saying, breathless and almost frantic, as the need for him took over. It wasn’t just physical anymore; it was something more primal. You were lost in him, the two of you like fire and gasoline, a combination of desperation and want that tangled together seamlessly.  

His eyes flared with intensity, a silent challenge in them as they locked with yours. He didn’t need to say anything; his grip on your hand tightened, his breath heavy against your skin, and you both knew what came next. 

There was no turning back now.

You thought you could hold on for a few moments longer, but when Toby started chanting curse words under his breath, you knew you were done. He rolled his hips up, hitting that perfect spot in your stomach once more, and that was it. Waves of adrenaline mixed with pure pleasure washed over your entire body as you came around his cock, back arching and legs shaking.

Your breath catches in your throat, a mixture of gasps and soft whimpers spilling out as Toby’s movements drive you wild. The sensation overwhelms you, pulling every ounce of focus from your mind, leaving you only with the feeling of his touch. It’s almost too much—too fast, too intense—and you can’t help the cry that escapes you, his name leaving your lips in a desperate rush.

But before you can fully let the sound escape, his free hand moves swiftly, covering your mouth, his palm pressing firmly against you. You try to push against it, but he holds you in place, the tension between you building with every breath. The muffled sounds of your whines vibrate against his hand, a helpless sound that only fuels the storm of sensations crashing through you.

It’s a mix of pleasure and frustration, the way he has control over you, the way your body reacts even when your mind is trying to keep up. The heat between you two seems to grow with every second, and with every soft struggle and pleading shift of your body, Toby pulls you closer, testing your limits, enjoying the chaos he stirs.

Toby fucked you through your high, not giving you a moment to breathe. He melted in between the sound of your muffled cries, the feeling of your cunt pulsing around him, and the sight of your face twisted in pleasure. 

He stuttered, tumbling over his words, "I'm- fuck, I'm-" 

He groaned, unable to even get the words out before he felt his pleasure burst like a bubble. He shoved deep inside you one last time, giving you all of him as he fell apart. He held himself there as he came, making sure you were pumped with every last drop of him. 

Toby was straight-up wrecked, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a damn marathon. His breath came out heavy, uneven, like he was actually struggling to catch it. You were slumped against him, just as spent, your body warm and lax against his.  

Fuck. He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt this drained—in the best possible way.  

You were everything. 

More than he ever expected, more than he ever thought he’d get.  

He pressed a lazy, lingering kiss against your neck, then another against your jaw, slow and hazy, like he was savoring the moment before finally pulling out of you. His grip on you softened, and he let his hand slide from your mouth to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin with a surprising tenderness.  

“Good job,” he murmured, voice rough, breath still unsteady. His lips twitched into a smirk, but his eyes were softer now. “Knew you’d be good for me. You did so fucking good.”

Toby was still holding you close, your body warm and spent against his, when the shrill buzz of his phone cut through the heavy silence. He groaned, pressing his forehead against your shoulder for a second before fishing it out of his pocket. The screen lit up with a familiar name.  

He answered without even thinking, balancing the phone between his cheek and shoulder. “Yeah?” His voice was still rough, breath uneven.  

A deep, gruff voice rumbled through the speaker—Tim.  

"You did what I told you to do?"  

Toby stiffened, his fingers flexing slightly against your skin as his mind scrambled for an answer that didn’t involve—I just got ridiculously sidetracked making fucking out with a random girl at the party. He licked his lips, throwing a quick glance at you as you caught your breath, and tried to sound nonchalant. “Yeah—uh, almost. Just handling some... extra business.”  

There was a beat of silence before Tim let out a heavy sigh. “Bullshit. I know when you’re lying. Don’t tell me you got distracted—again.”  

Toby rolled his eyes, already knowing there was no point in denying it. “I was handling it,” he grumbled.  

The static over the line crackled before another voice chimed in—Brian. “We’re coming to get you before the cops show up. Get your ass outside, now.”  

Toby barely had time to process that before the unmistakable glare of blue and red lights flooded the street below. A few distant shouts rang out, followed by the telltale sound of a police siren winding up.  

“Shit.” He hangs up, and his grip on you tightened instinctively, his entire body tensing as his eyes flicked from the street back to you. “The party’s over, sweetheart.”

Your stomach twisted as the flashing lights painted the street below in streaks of red and blue. You swallowed hard, your breath still uneven as you whispered, “Wait… what do we do?” Your voice wavered between concern and fear. “What about the cops?”  

Toby was already shifting, straightening up, adjusting his jacket, and making sure his jeans weren’t too obvious in their disheveled state. He shot you a look—one that was unusually serious despite the usual glint of mischief in his eyes.  

“You stay,” he said firmly, fingers brushing over your cheek briefly before he fixed your dress, smoothing the fabric down as if he had all the time in the world. “Act normal. Pretend like you’re just another drunk University chick who had too much to drink. They won’t look twice at you.”  

You blinked at him, confused. “Wait—where the hell are you going?”  

He exhaled sharply, pulling his hoodie over his head before ruffling his messy brown hair, making it look even more chaotic. “I gotta go before they get me,” he muttered. “I sell here, remember?”  

Shit. You had forgotten.

In the haze of alcohol, his teasing, his hands, and everything that had just happened between you two, it completely slipped your mind. If they caught him, it wouldn’t just be a slap on the wrist—it would be bad news.  

For a second, you were going to let him go, watching as he turned toward the balcony door, preparing to slip out into the chaos inside. But something in you rebelled against it. A sharp, instinctual refusal.  

Before you could stop yourself, your hand shot out, grabbing the back of his jacket and yanking him back toward you.  

Toby barely had time to react before he stumbled a step, his body pressing against yours again, your grip tight and desperate. He looked down at you, brows raised, lips parting slightly in surprise. “The hell—?”  

“You can’t just run out there like that,” you hissed, your fingers curling into his hoodie, refusing to let go. “What if they do see you? What if they’re already inside?”  

His jaw tensed for a moment, like he was trying to calculate his next move, but you saw it—the flicker of hesitation. Maybe he didn’t expect you to stop him.

Maybe he didn’t expect you to care.  

Toby let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You really don’t know when to let things go, huh?” His voice was amused, but his hand settled on your waist again, steadying you both.  

You held his stare, breath hitching slightly as the distant sounds of officers yelling orders reached your ears. “Not when it comes to this,” you murmured.

Toby stared at you for a second, something unreadable flashing behind his dark brown eyes. Then, before you could think or react, he was on you again. His lips crashed into yours, rough yet intoxicating, his fingers tightening on your waist as he pushed you back against the railing.    

Your body tensed at first, but only for a moment. The warmth of his breath against your skin, the press of his lips traveling down your jawline—it melted away any resistance. Toby was teasing, deliberate, but his intent was clear. He wanted to leave something behind, a mark, a reminder.    

His lips skimmed the sensitive spot beneath your ear, sending a shiver down your spine before he sucked harshly on the skin. You gasped, fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie as he worked his way down, each kiss and bite searing into you like a brand. A selfish part of him wanted to take you with him, to leave proof of what had happened tonight—not for anyone else, just for himself. 

Only he would know he was the cause.    

You sighed as he moved lower, the feeling of his teeth grazing your collarbone making your knees weak. His hands—still warm, still possessive—kept you steady, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. But then, too soon, he pulled back, tilting his head to admire his work.    

Your arms stayed hooked around his neck, your body still pressed against his. Your skin tingled, a mess of scattered purples and deep bruises decorating your neck and collarbones. You knew they would be impossible to hide tomorrow.    

"There. Something for me and..." He smirked before dipping down again, stealing another kiss, slower this time, his lip piercings cold against your swollen lips. When he pulled away, his voice was lower, almost smug, “Something for me…”    

Before you could say anything, a sudden noise from below made both of you jolt. Flashing red and blue lights reflected against the building, and you could hear the distant, commanding shouts of officers pushing their way inside.    

Your heart pounded as you rushed to the railing, gripping the cold metal as you peered down. Cops were pouring into the house now, pushing past the drunken partygoers stumbling in confusion. 

You were about to turn back, to warn Toby—  

But he was gone.

Your stomach dropped. How the fuck did he move that fast?

Spinning around, you scanned the balcony, the shadows, but there was nothing. Just the ghost of his presence lingering on your skin, on your lips.    

A deep sense of unease crept over you as you rushed down the stairs. The whole house was in chaos, people pushing past each other, trying to slip out before the cops could start making arrests.

The party was officially dead.    

It wasn't just cause of the party now

Nah, someone had died inside.  

You barely caught wind of the hushed whispers as you made your way through the crowd. Someone had found a guy upstairs with a hatchet lodged in his back. Whoever called the cops had seen the body first. That sobered you up real fucking fast.  

Stepping out onto the front street, you pulled your phone from your pocket, fingers shaking slightly as you dialed one of your friends. No way in hell were you would walk back to the dorms alone after this.

As you stood there, the chill of the night settling in, something caught your eye.  

A figure stood just at the edge of the shadows, away from the flashing police lights. You almost didn’t recognize him at first, but then you saw the faint orange glow reflecting off the goggles perched on his head.  

Toby.  

He was watching you, partially obscured in the darkness, his lower face now hidden behind what looked like a mouth guard.  

The second you met his gaze, he lifted a hand, fingers wiggling in a lazy wave before he turned, disappearing into the night like a ghost. You stood frozen for a second, your heart pounding in your ears. “What the fuck just happened?” 

As you stood there, still processing everything, a sudden breeze swept under your dress, sending a shiver up your spine. 

That’s when you felt it. Or rather, I didn’t feel it.

Your eyes widened, a sudden wave of heat rushing to your face.    

That bastard.   

Your panties were gone.  

Your breath caught in your throat as realization sank in, your thighs pressing together instinctively. When the fuck had he taken them? You were just with him—there was no moment where—  

You wanted to die. Right there, right then.    

Meanwhile, down the street, Toby was already slipping into a black car parked in the shadows, the interior dimly lit by the dashboard glow.    

Tim was in the driver’s seat, arms crossed, while Brian sat in the passenger seat, his cold blue eyes flicking up as Toby climbed inside.

“Hey,” Toby greeted casually, as if he hadn’t just fled a crime scene and a party.    

“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” Tim snapped, his gruff voice dripping with irritation. “What the fuck took you so long? We were supposed to be out of there before the cops even got close.”    

Toby shrugged, slumping back against the seat. “Got a little sidetracked” he admitted, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips.    

Tim gave him a long, unimpressed stare. “Don’t tell me you were out there fucking some random chick at the party.”    

Toby, for once, didn’t deny it.    

Brian snorted. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head.    

Toby just rolled his shoulders. “I did what I needed to do. Everything’s fine.”    

Tim muttered something under his breath before finally putting the car in drive, pulling away from the frat house as sirens wailed in the distance.    

As they sped off down the road, Toby leaned back, slipping a hand into his jacket pocket.    

A small, lacy piece of fabric met his fingertips, and he grinned to himself as he pulled it out just enough to see.    

Black lace panties.    

He chuckled, low and amused, rolling the fabric between his fingers before tucking them back away.    

At least he got to shotgun with a girl tonight.    

A pretty cool one, in fact.

[onlyalyx]

this is my first time writing anything at all, and for it being smut is something really really fast considering ive never written anything at all before this. i hope you enjoy this lil thing i made coming back from a flight!

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you caught toby going through your panty drawer again so you decide to 'punish' him.

warnings: 18+, riding, orgasm denial, switching roles, pervert toby (?)

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moans and lewd groans were heard from across the hall as you continued to bounce on tobys cock.

"puh-pl-please just luh-let me cuh-*ngh* come ! i can-cant take th-this anymoreee.."

he said while a mix of a moan nd whimper came out of his mouth. truth is, you have been denying the poor mans orgasm for the past 2 hours while you were on your 5th. you went as far as to not let him touch you, caress you, hell even mark you. you were the only one naked, toying with him even more since he was the only one still wearing clothes. you were mad you caught him going through your panty drawer again, catching him while he had them on his nose sniffing them like they were drugs.

"shut up." you said, still bouncing on him.

every time he would start to get louder, you would start to go slower, slow enough to take him off his high.

"st-stop stopping on me.. yuh-you're not be-being fairr" he said whiningly

"fine. this is *ugh* starting to get boring anyways. go ahead, its your turn." you said with a wicked smile

the moment he heard it was his turn, he got you off of him, trying to take off his clothes as fast as he could. he put your back against his chest, lifting your leg up to where he can easily slide into you.

not giving you his usual "im going in!", he didnt even wait. he immediately started pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, like you werent just on top of him for 2 hours straight. it was like in those few thrusts, he reminded you of how he usually gets when hes being rough. not faltering, you start clenching up, letting him know you're about to come.

"h-hey.. would-wouldn't it be fuh-funny if I DENIED YOUR ORGASM TOO?" he started going slow "cause y-y'know, you ha-had me pret-pretty good there, so luh-lets see if i-i can return the fa-favor!" he said in between giggles.

"ngh t-toby please..plea-" he pressed down on the bulge showing on your tummy, earning an explicit moan from you. "shut up."

[onlyalyx]

what a heavenly way to die || the proxies

‘forever is in your eyes, but forever ain’t half the time’

sum: after being stranded in the middle of a snow storm, you’re forced to take shelter with masky, hoodie, and toby. you need to stay warm, by any means necessary

tw:SMUT, FILTHY, LONG, AGGRESSIVE SMUT, foursome kinda? idk?, sub!reader, soft dom!masky, hard dom!hoodie, sub!toby, gun play, overstimulation, exhibitionism, lowkey throat fucking, praise, humiliation, power dynamics lowkey do be in place

a/n: FOR ALL OF MY OG HITCHHIKER BABIES <3

“But I don’t wanna wear gloves!”

“Toby if you don’t wear gloves, your fingers are gonna fall off.”

Masky’s voice was hoarse, his patience thinning the longer he walked. Not even a fresh cigarette could make this situation any better. Only some shit like this would happen to him.

On the way back from an assignment the car ran out of gas, courtesy of allowing Hoodie to drive for more than five minutes. Now with the tank on E, the four of you were stranded in the middle of no where. Snow fell from the sky, coating each of you more and more by the second. Hoodie seemed perfectly content with his offense, minus the occasional shiver. Toby couldn’t comprehend the need to wear so many layers, the kid practically fighting for the right to freeze to death. Masky found himself silently regretting his choice of a mask, his gaze landing on you.

Normally he discounted your presence, you being the newest member of the group. But he’d be lying to himself if he shrugged you off. Although you had only been around for a few years now, for such a tiny little thing you sure pulled your weight. He never thought much of you at first, your small stature and loud mouth telling him everything he could ever want to know. But over the years of enslavement together you simmered down, sometimes more quiet than Hoodie. Masky could deal with his silence, having been dragged into this shit show by his hand.

But you? He couldn’t handle it.

His dark gaze landed on you, looming over your shaking form like a dark cloud. You always wore skimpy clothing, even if not practical. This happened to be one of those times, your skirt riding up your thighs and knee high socks failing to conceal the goosebumps that littered your skin. “Cold, kid?” Masky asked, ignoring his own shaky fingertips as he took a drag of his cigarette. The four of you had been hiking for what felt like hours, more and more of your limbs becoming numb by the second. “T-Told ya life wasn’t a f-fashion show,” Toby chimed in, clearly enjoying the weather.

“Can it, you ticking time bomb,” Masky interjected, frowning. He noted the way you avoided his gaze, as if you were afraid of judgment. But why? You had never given a shit about his opinion before. He grunted to himself as he shrugged off his signature mustard jacket, forcefully shoving it on your shoulders.

“But you’ll freeze-”

“Put it on and don’t bitch about it.”

His voice was stern and full of authority, threatening you to question it. His mask hid his satisfied expression as he watched you put it on. “Any plans here boss? Or do we plan on camping out here?” Hoodie asked sarcastically. It was in moments like these Masky was thankful the two of them wore mask, his distain written all over his face. “We just need to keep heading south like boss ordered,” Masky huffed, blowing cigarette smoke out into the cold night air. Tensions were arising quickly, the freezing cold fizzling out any trust that had been formed.

“Head south? Are you on crack or delusional? Toby’s fingers are so frost bitten they’re about to snap off and the kid is so fuckin cold i’m surprised she’s able to stand at all,” Hoodie barked, his words laced with venom. Masky didn’t like to go off schedule. He didn’t like to piss off The Operator. If it were him and him alone, he’d continue walking south until he either made it or The Operator himself found him. However, as his eyes raked in the sight of his companions, he realized Hoodie was right.

“Fine, we’ll have a sleepover. Follow me. I saw smoke over this way,” Masky agreed reluctantly, tossing his cigarette bud carelessly onto the ground. Toby began to yap about Masky being a litter bug, earning him a knock upside the head from Hoodie. The silent proxy gritted his teeth, annoyed with Masky neglecting to tend to them sooner.

“You saw signs of civilization and just now told us? How long would you have let us walk before we fuckin froze to death?” Hoodie questioned, his gaze so deadly Masky could feel holes burning into his back. You awkwardly tugged his jacket closer to you, your breath shallow. “He’s k-kinda right, kinda an asshole move,” You said softly, completely exhausted from marching in a borderline snow storm. Masky’s gaze softened for a moment, before noticing Toby had taken off his gloves. “We need to get going before this dipshit loses his fingers,” Masky grumbled, shrugging off the issue at hand. The three of you trailed behind him, satisfaction washing over you as a cabin came into sight.

You weren’t an advocate for death, but you quite literally would’ve killed someone for a warm spot in that cabin. The four of you burst inside, scanning the room for any sign of human life. None of you could deny your eagerness to be warm. A small fire crackled in the background in the fireplace, providing a soft orange glow to the room. Masky gestured Toby to follow him upstairs, leaving you and Hoodie to scope out the remainder of the first floor. “Any guesses on why it’s abandoned like this?” You asked the taller proxy, avoiding his lingering gaze. Hoodie tended to be a bit unsettling sometimes, whether he meant to be or not.

“My guess? Some rich couple cut their honeymoon short and hauled ass once they saw the forecast,” Hoodie said blandly, shrugging off his ski mask. It had been a while since you had seen his face, his stubble grown out more than you could remember. “Good for us then,” You mumbled, averting your eyes. You stared at the ground so much you tended to forget what your fellow proxies faces looked like. Footsteps trampling down the stairs regained your attention, your head snapping in the direction. “Good news, place is ours. Bad news, the only heat source is that lovely fireplace right there,” Masky said, sitting down in front of the small couch. The three of you followed his lead, crowding around the tiny fireplace.

“This is your grand plan?” Hoodie questioned, his distrust visible on his face with his mask off. Masky fought the urge to light another cigarette, bringing his knees to his chest. “The fireplace as well as our body heat is enough to survive. Unless you have a better idea, be quiet,” Masky replied dryly. Toby took the opportunity to lay his head in your lap, a place he had been time and time again. You had taken on this role long ago, stroking his chestnut hair until the unpredictable ticking time bomb fell asleep. Tonight was no exception, even as you settled in next to Masky.

You ignored the ever growing tension that sprouted with each second as your arms touched, the smell of his cologne mixed with tobacco flooding your nostrils. Tensions were ever growing as your arm brushed against his, your energies so magnetic it made you unmistakably nervous. Nervous. You never felt nervous in any other situation. But around Masky? Especially close like this? You might as well have been a flirty high school girl. Hoodie ignored the three of you, jumping over the arm of the couch and making himself comfortable. He was always reserved like that, refusing to touch any of you unless he was back handing Toby. The couch squeaked under his weight, the squeaks continuing until the older proxy got settled.

You continued to play with Toby’s hair, swirling your fingers around his scalp. “Warm enough kid?” Masky asked, his voice more rough than usual. You tried to avoid staring, noticing him taking off his mask out of the corner of your eye. You wanted nothing more than to soak in his features, especially since his mask was practically glued to his face a majority of the time. Instead you forced yourself gaze to remain forward, watching the fire flicker. “I suppose,” You mumbled, catching a knot in Toby’s hair. You refrained from cringing as you brushed it through with your fingers, thankful he couldn’t feel pain as he slept soundly. The sound of Hoodie’s soft snores put Masky a little more at ease, his next words something he wouldn’t admit to the other two men next to you.

“You were right about earlier. I was an asshole, I should’ve had us head here to begin with,” Masky admitted timidly. He didn’t like being the leader, that role automatically assigned to him like it was his birth right. What he didn’t like even more than that, was admitting that he was wrong. He expected ridicule, which he would’ve gotten if you were Hoodie or Toby. But instead you laid your head on his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against the fabric of his sweater. “I know you were just trying to please The Operator,” You whispered. You continued playing with Toby’s hair, ensuring your hand didn’t stop. You glanced up in his direction, soaking in his thick eyebrows and awkward side burns. His chocolate eyes met yours unsurely, an eyebrow raising.

“What are you doing to me kid?” Masky grumbled, his own heart beginning to race. This was bad news, feeling this way towards you. But the orange glow against your skin had him reeling in his own skin. “You tell me boss,” You whispered back, edging your lips towards his. It caught you off guard that Masky made the first move, planting his lips against yours. His lips were as chapped as yours, his taste a recognized mixture of mint and cigarettes. You melted under his touch, eagerly kissing him back. He was intoxicating, his large hand slipping into your hair.

You could feel your core throbbing with desire, your cheeks flushing pink as you realized this. Being a proxy didn’t exactly equate a productive sex life, your body longing for the touch of another human. You couldn’t get enough of his lips, his desperation. It was just as passionate as yours, both of you longing for human compassion. You shuddered as his large hand slithered down to your thigh, your legs parting instantly. His cold fingertips trailed up your sensitive skin, tracing your skin teasingly. You held back a soft groan, Masky eager to hear you make sinful noise for him. He was so close to your core, your body shuddering at the idea-

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Hoodies voice was sharp, abruptly interrupting your lustful daze. Love affairs between proxies was forbidden, a strict rule made clear to you by The Operator. While he gave the same speech to Kate, he knew that her feralness would unintentionally have her follow his rule to a T. You, however, were semi more mentally stable, with a knack for fashion and semi put together appearances. For the first time you saw panic across Masky’s eyes, causing you to clear your throat. “Sharing body warmth obviously, you cold Hoodie?” You asked, the lie leaving your lips before you had time to consider the repercussions. For a second you could’ve swore you saw a glimpse of Brian, a playful smirk crawling up his lips.

Your hand abandoned Toby’s hair, grabbing a handful of Hoodies coat to drag him closer to you. You managed to spare a moment of hesitation, dragging his lips to clash into yours. You were tense at first, unsure what the proxy would do. You were surprised to feel him meet your desperation all the same, the nagging realization of his similar loneliness crashing over you. Teeth clashed with teeth, his desperation resulting in a deeper kiss than you expected. You found yourself getting even more flushed, knowing Masky’s eyes were burning into yours. He took the opportunity to press his hand against your core, noting how damp your panties were already.

“You’re gonna wake the kid up,” Hoodie grunted, reluctant to pull away from your lips to begin with. Masky rubbed against your swollen slick, earning a small whimper from you. “I’m a-a-already up,” Toby said groggily, sitting up. You avoided his gaze as he soaked in the sinful sight in front him, Masky’s hand on your cunt and Hoodie’s lips mere centimeters from yours. You swallowed, your core throbbing at the idea of taking all three of them at once. After all, you had to convince yourself you weren’t lying. This entanglement was nothing more than an exchange of body heat, a way to keep warm.

Right?

You turned your head towards Toby swallowing nervously as you leaned forward to kiss him. It caught him off guard, his light grey cheeks forming a tint of pink as he matched your actions. Two sets of large hands rearranged you as you lost yourself into the kiss, your ass in the air as your skirt got flipped up. “Fuck,” Masky mumbled, his cold hand sending goosebumps across your skin. You could hear Hoodie moving on the couch, causing you to pull away from sucking on Toby’s bottom lip. The clinking of his belt fully caught your attention, your eyebrows raised. “Do you um, not wanna be warm?” You asked slowly. A pang of embarrassment shot through you, a creeping worry of his lack of desire for you arising. The taller proxy smirked, unzipping his jeans.

“I just wanna watch you get knocked down a few pegs, now go on and kiss Masky again,” Hoodie ordered, palming himself through his jeans. You turned to Masky, cheeks flushed red and heart pounding as you met his gaze. His pupils were blown with lust, his face in the softest state you had ever seen it. You met his lips eagerly, obeying Hoodies demand. Toby took the opportunity to come up behind you, his cold hands slipping under your shirt. Your hand slithered its way down to Masky’s crotch, palming his hard boner. You were satisfied to hear a small groan claw its way out of his throat, your lips eagerly swallowing it. You arched your back as Toby’s curious fingertips found their way to your breast, squeezing harshly at your perky nipples.

“N-No bra? You’re just d-d-dying to get fucked huh?” Toby snickered. Goosebumps trailed down your spine as you whimpered, nibbling on Masky’s bottom lip. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, soaking in his facial expression. “Let me suck you off,” You whispered, biting the inside of your cheek as Toby harshly twisted your left nipple. Masky seemed at a loss of words, something that rarely occurred to him. He looked over you, eyeing a mischievous Toby. “Hey kid, make yourself useful and let her ride your face,” He said, his words laced with authority. You couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread over you as Toby laid on his back, nuzzling himself between your knees.

“Sit back on his face princess,” Hoodie ordered, pulling his cock out of his boxers. Masky clenched his jaw, having momentarily forgotten Hoodie was even there. He watched your shaky hands fiddle with his belt, slowly lowering yourself onto Toby’s eager mouth. You nervously glanced down at the younger proxy, licking your dry lips. “You can uh, touch yourself you know, or something,” You offered unsurely, feeling him shove your panties to the side with his cold fingertips. Masky placed his hand on the back of your head, gently reminding you to focus. “He’ll figure it out kid, stop worryin’ so much,” Masky grumbled. You continued to focus on undressing him, whimpering as you felt Toby’s warm tongue dart in between your folds.

“This is taking way too fuckin long. Let’s speed things up shall we?” Hoodie asked, his cock already exposed and in hand. Your eyes widened as he took out his hand gun, clicking off the safety. “Get to sucking princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby continued to lap at your folds, his tongue messily flicking your clit. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Masky argued. His attention was diverted once you took him in your mouth, eagerly bobbing your head up and down on his hard cock. Hoodie smirked at your reaction, noting the way your thighs squeezed Toby’s head harder. “Look at her Mask. You think a girl like us isn’t into some freaky shit? Now shut up and enjoy it,” Hoodie snickered, stroking himself to the sight.

Toby was eager, his hand pumping his own shaft as he devoured your cunt. He couldn’t get enough of your taste, his soft groans muffled by your soaked folds. Your hips involuntarily grinded against his face, your own moans sending vibrations around Masky’s cock. The brunette tried to hide his own sinful noises, but you taking him to the base cancelled out any possibility of him being able to do so. His hand grabbed a handful of your hair, assertively guiding you up and down his cock. Hoodie couldn’t get enough of the sinful sight, your knees digging into the hard wood as you struggled to hold yourself up. He wouldn’t stop watching even if the world collapsed.

Meanwhile Masky was struggling to hold on, having spent years and years with his hand as his only companion. Your mouth was so warm and wet, your throat only making it harder to resist cumming right then and there. “Fuck kid, you’re gonna be the death of me,” He grunted, feeling your tongue swirl around his tip. Your eyes were already flooded with tears, your gaze meeting his as you deep throated him. It was embarrassing to Masky how fast he knew he was going to cum, your sweet face only bringing him closer to the edge. Hoodie noted this as well, noticing the way Masky’s hips began slowly stuttering. A sadistic thought came to mind, one that he knew would ensure a good time for every party involved.

Your orgasm was approaching quickly, your thighs squeezing Toby’s head so tightly you were almost worried about him. “Go on princess, that’s it. Ride Toby’s face like the good whore you are,” Hoodie purred, stroking himself. He enjoyed watching your micro expressions, your mannerisms. The way your eyebrows furrowed when Toby licked you just right. Masky momentarily pulled out of your mouth, craving to hear your moans. Your spare hand was tugging at Toby’s hair, whimpers clawing their way out of your throat. “Fuck, feels so good T-Toby-” You whined, tilting your head back. Precum and saliva covered your swollen lips, your gaze meeting Masky’s. “Can I cum? Fuck, please let me cum,” You whined, struggling to contain yourself. Masky smirked at your request, briefly giving Hoodie a cocky glance.

“Go on kid, cum for us,” He cooed. Words couldn’t describe the satisfaction he felt as you came on Tobys face, your eyes rolling back and legs shaking. You planned to get off, a click from Hoodies gun ripping you away from your ride of euphoria. “I didn’t tell you to get off, did I? Keep riding princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby was still as eager as ever, his mouth gratefully accepting you as you lowered back down onto him. He lapped at your slick, devouring your cum. “Nobody’s stopping until everyone cums. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” Hoodie asked mockingly. You rolled your tongue out across your bottom lip, presenting yourself for Masky to use. “Masky, please, let me taste you,” You pleaded, struggling to stay upright. The overstimulation was making your body twitch, the brunette quick to shove himself back in your mouth.

Something about this, watching you be overstimulated and cumming, drove Masky feral.

He was more aggressive this time, pulling your hair and forcing your jaw to go slack. You whined as you struggled to keep up, saliva trailing down the sides of your mouth. “Such a good hole for me to use, fuck,” Masky groaned. He could feel himself coming closer to his orgasm, his hips stuttering as he thrust one final time down your throat. His warm seed made you gag as you struggled to keep him in your mouth. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you gripped his thighs, swallowing him whole. He pulled out of your mouth, watching you gulp for air. You were so pretty like this, your face fucked out and sounds nothing more than incoherent babbles. You could hear Toby’s groans growing louder as well, your thighs squeezing around his head as he came on his stomach. The three of you were spent, Toby’s tongue momentarily coming yo a pause.

The sound of Hoodies gun clicking caught all three of your attention, the taller proxy not hiding his sadistic grin. “Not all of us have cum, have we?” He asked, sending a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine. “Keep sucking princess,” He barked. His gaze landed on Toby, whose eyes were barely visible from between your thighs.

“And keep eating her out kid, I wanna see her squirm.”

[onlyalyx]

Restless

Summary: Your demon boyfriend is struggling with a wave of insomnia. You’re willing to do whatever you can to help him relax.

Characters: Eyeless Jack x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Cunnilingus, vaginal, handjob, vaginal fingering, size differences, creampie, belly bulge, oral, teasing, somnophilia, Jack is a smug bastard

Words: 4.2k

A/N: Happy belated Valentine’s Day! I hope you all are well despite my absence interacting with everyone! I hope to get back in the swing of things shortly!!

Eyeless Jack is a daunting presence no matter the circumstance.

Whether the gray-skinned demon is lurking in damp woods with the intent of hunting his prey or brooding his irritation down in the mansion's cellar, anyone with the misfortune of meeting his nonexistent gaze knows it’s something you cannot ignore.

But you’re not afraid, especially not when his arm is wrapped dutifully under your waist and rubbing absent circles onto your hip bone. And that is also how you know he is lying wide awake beside you, despite his forced rhythmic breathing.

Rolling over, it’s an even more telltale sign of his restlessness when you find the crease of his brows knotted in silent frustration. You huff a silent breath, his grasp on your waist following as you roll to his side, lying your cheek on his broad shoulder splayed on his pillow. You catch his brow twitching at the touch of your hand on his bare chest.

“Can’t sleep?”

He huffs a breath of air, sighing with defeat as he peels his eyelids open to reveal the caverns of eyesockets that house no iris. His face is answer enough. You know that he’s looking at you, though. The chill that runs across your goosebumped skin is more than enough indication.

“No,” his voice is rough, laced with all the tiredness from the day prior but not matching the lack of exhaustion in his features. He rummages his tongue behind his lips as if to say something further, but decides closing his eyes again would be a better option.

“You want to talk about it?”

You shimmy further into his side, pressing a leg up to curl around his hips, where he grips his clawed hand under the pocket of your knee to hoist it higher. The tips of your toes barely reach the tops of his knees, his size practically swallowing you even beside him. He peels his eyelids open again.

“Also, no.” Reaching behind his pillow, he props his head up with his forearm. A telltale that he intends to stare at the ceiling for the rest of the night. You follow suit, pressing your elbow to the pillow under yourself and resting the weight of your head on your palm. He looks only slightly irritated when you begin to trace the hard lines of his face with your fingertip.

“Just because I cannot sleep doesn't mean you shouldn’t either, my dove,” he hums, capturing your roaming hand with his free one and plating a gentle kiss on the inside of your wrist. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck, the demon plating a gentle kiss onto the top of your head. He lets his eyelids blink shut in false hope.

Jack had been like this for days now. Unable to get a full night’s rest from the overwhelming tasks of the day prior. Slender was sending the proxies out at an obnoxious rate, rallying all the manpower he could over a dispute with another mansion. It was exhausting and incredibly bloody, which meant Jack rarely saw daylight with how many hours he spent stitching up or cauterizing bullet and knife wounds down in the recesses of the basement. His fingers were still practically pinched to hold a needle even as he lay here beside you.

As a member of Slender’s band yourself, you can’t fault any of them for fulfilling orders, but you find yourself silently seething when it comes at the expense of Jack’s sanity.

“I don’t mind,” you breathe, letting your now-free fingers trace across his bare chest, tracing the lighter scarring and divots from past encounters lazily. “I could help you out, anyway.” 

Jack hugs you closer but doesn’t respond to your offer, so you carry on.

“I could... give you a massage?” You offer sleepily, pressing an affectionate kiss to his cheek.

He doesn’t bother to respond beyond a quiet, breathy chuckle.

Your hand meanders over his toned abdomen in comforting, absentminded patterns. Roaming over old scar tissue and through unkept trails of body hair, “D’you want something to eat?” you ask against the skin of his jaw, “I saved some meat from your last hunt.”

“Thank you, pet, but I’ll be alright.”

“Mm,” your low-hummed response vibrates against his side, and your pinkie finger slips just beneath the band of his boxers, grazing across from one large hipbone to the other. Your lips brush the shell of his pointed ear. “D’you want me to suck your cock?”

Jack’s breath hitches, then shudders. His eyelids slowly peel open. 

He’s met with a mischievous grin on your face.

“You don’t need to–”

“I want to,” you coo against his jaw as you trail slow, methodical kisses across his chilled skin. He leans into the sensation, craning his neck to give you better access to the point where his veins run up his throat. He releases a low rumble of approval, and you meet his half-lidded absent gaze, sharp with both mirth and lust, even through the crowding fog of exhaustion. You don’t need the pleasure of pupils to see that he’s gazing at you with silent want.

It’s not without planting a kiss every couple of inches down that you shimmy your way further down his body. Coming to rest between his legs, it pleases you when you press your mouth against his clothed crotch to find him already half-hard.

You hook your fingers over the band of Jack’s boxers, his hips lifting in silent invitation as you ease them down. The cool bedroom air brushes against your skin, ruffling your hair as Jack flicks the duvet aside with a lazy throw. His eyes—dark, absent voids in the low light—watch you with heavy-lidded interest, his lips curling at the edges in a lazy smirk. A fang just barely peeks from the gap in his lips, and you can’t help but feel the flutter in your stomach.

He props himself up on one elbow, but you press a firm hand against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of something not quite human beneath your palm.

“Nuh-uh,” you murmur, a stern edge to your voice. “Lie back. Let me take care of you.”

Jack exhales a slow, unamused breath but obeys, sinking back into the pillows with an air of indulgence. Shadows coil at the edges of the room, stretching and shifting with the thick moonlight between the curtains, but your attention is solely on him.

You catch the spit from your lips between your fingertips and watch with keen amusement as Jack’s gut flexes at the slick contact. You roll your wrist on the tip of his head. Once. Twice.

You waste no time with teasing tonight. 

Instead, you offer yourself completely, the warmth of your mouth and the slow, deliberate glide of your hands working in unison to unravel him. Spit collects, your fist quick to catch anything that dribbles from your lips to stroke back upwards. The occasional flex of his claws against the sheets betrays his restraint, but he lets you set the pace—lazy, deep, unhurried.

Jack is large, obnoxiously so, but you let your throat relax. Unhurried with the usual cascade of noises that come with using your mouth, you let the low moans and quiet slick of your spit mix pleasantly with the lullaby of noises from further up the bed.

The grizzled grunts and lupine growls that usually accompany sex with Jack reshaped instead to soft gasps and lilting whimpers.

It’s a very nice alternative.

His breath hitches when you pause, just briefly, to swirl your tongue in a way you know drives him wild. His muscles tense, then loosen, and one clawed hand twitches toward you before falling away, opting instead to rest against his own ribs, rising and falling with measured breaths.

You don’t let that action go unnoticed.

Sliding your free hand up the rippled muscle of his thigh, you reach for his wrist. You guide him, slotting his clawed fingers in between the strands of your hair. The warmth of his palm is a comfort against your head, a silent guide.

The room is hushed, wrapped in the intimate lull of slow-building pleasure. Jack’s chest rises and falls beneath your touch, his sharp features softened in the low light, his body melting into the warmth of your devotion. His fingers flex in your hair, claws barely grazing your skin, his hips shifting in time with your movements.

Everything is slow, indulgent, and a pleasure drawn out to its fullest. And from the way Jack’s lips part on a breathy exhale, his sharp, inhuman gaze growing hazy with bliss—you know he won’t make it much longer.

You intend to finish him off slowly. An outstretched ripple of pleasure that’s sure to have him passed out the moment he finishes. You press your tongue along the vein that runs up his length, tracing a familiar line. It doesn’t seem to have the desired effect.

Jack’s lulled state is slowly dissipating, his legs shifting outwards as the claw against your head moves downwards underneath your jaw. His hand more than covers the circumference of your throat, and slowly pulls you up and off of his length. 

“Jack?”

But then he’s sitting up, and his claws wrapping around your middle, dragging you up from between his legs.

“I hope you didn’t intend on my cumming in your mouth,” he rumbles as you straddle onto his ribs, hands braced on his chest. 

The lazy look in his eyes is still evident, heavy eyelids adding to the frazzled look of his blissed face. You smirk, bracing your forearms on his chest to get closer to his face. “What? Couldn’t stand the thought of not bruising my insides for once?”

“But that’s my favorite part, dove…” he smirks that evil, sultry look that makes your chest swirl with want. You don’t let him by without an eye roll, though. You school the pounding in your chest—no doubt thudding loud and clear in the demon’s ears—and press up off of his chest.

It’s quick movements that have Jack’s claw reaching behind your back and between your legs, the fastest he’s moved all night to tug your panties to the side. There’s already a generous amount of slickness between your legs, the insistent thrumming of pleasure that spikes up your gut when the pads of his fingers press wholly against your clit.

You lean into your chest, fingers clinging to his shoulders as your nose finds the crook of his neck. Hungry, self-serving kisses follow, your quiet moans vibrating off his gray skin as masterful fingers rub you into a state of ease. He’s just as unhurried as you were between his legs, but you can’t tell if that’s a blessing or a curse with the way your nails catch on the muscles of his shoulders.

“This-hng was supposed to help you sleep—not get you riled up,” you gasp between kisses, feeling the weight of Jack’s forearm as he bypasses your leg with his opposite hand to begin stroking himself below you.

A mirth-filled chuckle hums in his chest as his fingers collect slick, aiding his practiced rotation on your clit. 

“Trust me, pet. This’ll have you sleeping ‘till tomorrow night.”

You let out an exasperated whine.

Jack retracts his hand when he’s satisfied, planting a quick kiss on your forehead before setting you back up.

His legs are bent now, giving you a rest for your back as you shift to straddle his hips, hovering above the twitching length that lays heavy on his abdomen. He’s still slick from your spit, gleaming in the low light as you steady yourself.

Jack retracts his grip on your hips, crossing his arms and tucking them under his head to get a nice prop for viewing. You cut daggers at him.

“Oh, now you wish to rest.”

He smiles that sharp, toothy grin that makes butterfly wings run rampant in the pit of your gut, swirling heavily with the pleasure that’s coaxing your movements downwards.

Panties tugged to the side, you set yourself on the length of his cock, pressing your core against the veins that run up him. Jack groans, soft hums of approval as you roll your hips down, grinding against the feel of him. Your wetness makes it easy to move, hands planted onto the center of his sternum that gives you enough leverage to roll your clit from base to tip of him.

“There you go…” he breathes, sighing as his eyelids blink slowly, like they’re struggling to open back up again. He won’t last another couple of minutes, you know it. 

Pressing your knees down into the sheets, you reach beneath yourself, wrapping a fist around the base of his cock. It’s like second nature the way his tip immediately slots through your folds and presses against your entrance. Jack’s breath stills, anticipation heavy in the air as he shifts his legs closer. 

You press your back against the top of his thighs.

Any and all tenseness is wiped clean away as you begin to push him inside. Your mouth falls open in a silent whine at the slow, perfect stretch, and you battle the flutter of your lashes to watch the hypnotic fog of pleasure that rolls across Jack’s face.

You arch your back further, hands planting atop each of his kneecaps as you slowly rock yourself downwards. His tip bulbs in. Out. In again. And then you press it past the tight ring of muscle.

The stretch is always hypnotic. Like a strain on your brain that pushes itself through, completely swarming your senses and encapsulating your every thought. If you weren’t so practiced, the pressure alone could send you into a brain-dead state.

You slip further and further down, his girth growing along the way. A quick glance up shows the disheveled state of the demon’s hair, strands falling into his face and offering a cover to the darkened state of his cheekbones. 

He looks deliciously wrecked.

Hollow eyes squeeze briefly shut with a short, rough moan that harmonizes with your high, breathy one when he hits something deep that makes you tremble and clench. Before you’ve realized it, you’ve nearly taken all of him, and you can feel it.

“You’re too-hah big for your own good…” you huff through slow breaths.

“You love it,” he growls, the vibration rumbling all the way from his throat to where you’re connected.

You roll your pelvis and are rewarded with a heavy groan and twisted brow, the sight and sound so intoxicating that you rock again, and again. The angle of him inside you is so mind-numbingly exquisite that you find it hard to focus.

You brace your hands on his chest and straighten, relishing the way he looks underneath you—so tired, yet so eager for more. 

Your thighs shake, a satisfying muscular burn from the slow, sensual ride. Raising yourself up, circling your hips to nudge the head of his cock in a tunneling spiral inside your heat as you sink back down again, the teasing movement dragging a deep, strained curse from Jack’s lips.

His hands leave their position behind his head, trailing down the sheets to the top of your kneecaps.

They slowly slide up, claws dragging pink irritated lines across the topside of your thighs until they snag on the crease of your hips. He holds your waist in that way that makes you feel so deliciously small, fingertips nearly touching around you.

“My dove…”

The rumble in his voice shoots straight through you, his breath stuttering as you clench around him. 

You start to offer a slow, sensual ride that has every press of your hips tugging moans from the two of you. Jack’s hold is keeping you steady, the pace more focused on getting him as deep as you can rather than fast.

“Fuck—”

The breathy curse slips, clearly accidental, from above you, and your gaze flicks upwards. 

Jack stares up at the ceiling, unblinking with strangled focus. 

You know what he’s doing.

“Quit- hah- quit holding back,” you grit, wrapping your hands around his forearms in return for the shallow bounces up and down his length. The swell of his cock knocks against your g-spot from this angle, forcing breathy, sharp whines every time you move.

“Mmn,” he grumbles, gaze flickering down towards you, before back up to the ceiling. “Don’t want-hn to so soon.”

For someone with no eyes, Jack’s biggest turn-on is seeing you. The curve of your body. The bounce of your tits. The sweat that glistens off your skin in the moonlight.

He thinks by staring at something besides you he can prevent the inevitable. But your intention for tonight is to get him tired enough to go to sleep, not to see how long he can last without filling you past the point of comfort.

You pull out the best trick you’ve got.

Ditching his arms, you lay back again, shoulder blades pressing atop his kneecaps.

From there, you arch.

You hold all the grace of a bow bending from the stretch of a string, and Jack is your archer.

“Jack—” you cry, sharp breaths following as you bounce yourself up and down.

The demon flashes his gaze down, and his body snaps with so much electricity you can practically feel the thrum of pleasure that ricochets through him. His hold tightens, and his shoulders bow off his pillow.

The bulge of his cock is clearly visible from your abdomen, skin stretching to accommodate the swell of his tip against your insides. It’s a mouthwatering sight, one even Jack can’t resist, as he watches the bump flatten only to reappear with each movement of your hips.

“God,” he groans, a strangled grumble of your name following as he takes hold, setting his own deep pace.

You let your body go lax, throwing your head back as Jack fucks up into you with all the grace he can muster. His cock knocks against your sweet spots, stretching and filling you so full you.

He lifts your waist, your kneecaps leaving the mattress as Jack takes the initiative. Planting his feet, he snaps his hips up desperately, chasing the feel of his cock bulging in your stomach under the press of his clawed fingertips that brush over the skin.

His hands are at your waist, scorching, lifting, and pulling your hips into each sunken thrust. Grinding your aching bud against his pelvis—

“I- I’m- fuck. Gonna,” you pant out, hissing through your bared teeth as you teeter over that lovely precipice. “Jack—”

Your nails dig into his forearms.

It’s the ragged, lust-drunk groan of your name that breaks you. Jack’s mouth falls open around a strangled cry—a silent thing that lodges in his throat, with only the end crackling free over his tongue. 

You both snap at the same moment.

It’s the quivering heat of you coming undone around him, because within moments Jack follows you straight over the precipice. Claws snagging you impossibly downwards as his face twists into the most gorgeous expression of pleasure you’ve ever seen. 

Completely, beautifully wrecked. 

A broken moan pours from scarred lips with yours as he spills himself deep inside you. Throbbing hips grind together as you both tumble through the unceasing riptide of your shared orgasm.

His hold on you falters, and you collapse down onto his chest, sweat-glistened skin pressed against yours. Both of your lungs heave like bellows, and his claws find their way atop your back, holding you close to him. 

After what feels like an eternity, and yet still far too soon, the joint orgasmic rush begins to wane. Gradually lowering you back to reality, until you find yourselves quietly cradled together.

It’s not without a whimper of soreness that you shift upwards, shifting your hips until the swelled length inside of you slips out with a satisfying pop. The warmth of his cum seeps from between your legs, spilling onto the demon’s lower abdomen—there’s always so much.

You barely make it an inch before you’re collapsing back onto his chest.

“You okay, handsome?” You ask gently, voice hushed.

He hums, groggy and laced with overbearing exhaustion.

“Sore?” He asks you quietly.

You shake your head.

“Tired?” You smile.

A tiny huff and a gleam of his fangs, followed by a conceding tilt of his head. You chuckle, nuzzling into the swell of his chest. Sleepiness creeps at the corner of your vision, exhaustion tugging you into the faux warmth underneath you.

Until you feel the slick between your legs start to dribble down your legs.

You raise your head, lips parted to excuse yourself to the bathroom, but immediately still yourself. You find that he’s fallen fast asleep. His heavy frame relaxed fully into the mattress, and his features smoothed and peaceful. You smile to yourself, before letting your head drop back to his chest, finding comfort in the relaxed rhythm of sleep-driven breathing beneath you.

Oh well.

You’ll deal with it in the morning.

-

You wake with Jack’s fingers between your legs.

It’s not a rude awakening, but a surprising one. You rise slowly, exhaustion still heavy in your features as you breathe deep, taking in the feel of a heavy body pressed against your back. You just have shifted off of Jack’s chest in your sleep.

Jack’s claw has slipped underneath your panties—still damp from the night before—circling and skimming over your core, and his other claw up under your top rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

The demon knows you're awake not only by the accelerated thrum of your heartbeat in his ears, but by the soft mewls that begin to stir from your lips.

“Good morning, dove,” he grumbles against your shoulder.

“Mm, it’s good so far…”

Jack trails slow, deliberate kisses along your neck and jaw, his lips warm against your skin as his claws, carefully restrained, glide between your thighs. His fingers move with reverence, sweeping through your slick folds, stroking over your clit, circling your entrance—not in a teasing way, but indulgently, like he has all the time in the world to worship you.

And you let him. Melting back against the sheets, your quiet hums of pleasure fill the stillness of the room.

Before long, Jack shifts lower, moving with unhurried ease as he slides your panties over your hips and tosses them aside. His clawed fingers skim along your legs, a fleeting contrast of sharpness and care, before he settles between them. His gaze flickers up to meet yours—heavy-lidded, dark, burning with something that makes your stomach tighten.

He deems to only use one tongue today, mercifully.

He parts you with that same slow reverence, his mouth finding you with unrelenting patience. His tongues, lips, and fingertips work in perfect harmony, a steady, languid rhythm meant to keep you on the edge, drawing pleasure out in slow, rolling waves. He’s in no rush. His only goal is to unravel you completely, to watch you lose yourself in the pleasure he gives.

His eyes flutter shut as he works, lost in it, his breath warm against your skin. His grip tightens—just slightly—when you shudder beneath him, muscles tensing, hips shifting to chase his touch. Still, he keeps the pace unhurried, each stroke, each flick of his tongue, a deliberate act of devotion.

When release finally washes over you, it isn’t a sharp, fiery explosion but a deep, all-consuming exhale, as if you’ve surfaced from deep water after being held under for too long. It leaves you trembling, shivering beneath him, your breath coming in soft, uneven sighs.

Jack lingers, savoring the last of your pleasure before finally rising to rejoin you. He braces his forearms on either side of your shoulders, settling between your thighs, the solid heat of his stomach pressing against yours. The weight of him grounds you, but he’s sure to not let himself fully lay atop you. His breath fans warm over your cheek, lips curling into a slow, knowing smirk—rather satisfied with himself.

“What in the world was that for?”

“You know exactly what you did.”

You chuckle quietly, rubbing your hands across his muscled biceps. Jack leans forward, wrapping his lips with yours, the sweet taste of your release still on his tongue.

The fresh, relaxing air of the morning is quickly shattered as a hurried knock splinters on the other side of Jack’s bedroom door. 

“Hey! Uh-Uhm, Jack!” Toby’s hurried voice reverbs on the other side, the boy sounding just slightly panicked, “Jeff’s kinda been shot—again.”

It’s not without a groaned sigh that Jack lets his head fall onto your shoulder, taking a deep breath as Toby’s footsteps retreat back down the mansion’s hallway.

“Maybe this time I should just let him bleed out,” he groans, raising up and off of you. You’re quick to sit up, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders as the demon sits off the edge of the bed.

A quick kiss to his temple, then your lips press against the shell of his ear, “If you hurry, then maybe I’ll hold off on taking a shower until you get back up here for round two.”

Never have you ever seen the demon get dressed and down to the basement that fast.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and kudos are appreciated!

[onlyalyx]

Meet your AI girlfriend

[onlyalyx]

[onlyalyx]

Press play.

[onlyalyx]

Seat on me baby 🤗😘

[onlyalyx]

before a good nights sleep

[onlyalyx]

𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑵𝑬𝑬𝑫 𝑨 𝑴𝑨𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑺 𝑮𝑶𝑵' 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑵 𝑫𝑰𝑮 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑶𝑼𝑻! 𝐹𝑇：𝑹𝑶𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑴𝑬𝑮𝑼𝑴𝑰 ꨄ

“𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙈𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙢𝙞, 𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 “𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙚𝙩” 𝙖𝙣𝙙 “𝙠𝙚𝙥𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛,” 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙣’𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙗𝙖𝙙....𝙒𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙙“

You knew getting a roommate was a bad idea, but you were desperate. Rent was getting ridiculous, and when your friend vouched for Megumi, saying he was “quiet” and “kept to himself,” you figured it wouldn’t be so bad.

Well They lied.

Megumi was the worst kind of roommate—moody, unbothered, and always bringing random girls over. If he was actually quiet, maybe you could’ve tolerated it, but no. The problem wasn’t him. It was them.

Every few nights, you’d wake up to muffled moans and the sound of your headboard rattling against the shared wall. And maybe, maybe, if you weren’t such a light sleeper, it wouldn’t be so unbearable. But you were, and it was.

Tonight was no different. You groaned, burying your face in your pillow as the giggling and breathy whining seeped through the walls.

“Oh my god, Megumi, right there!—”

You threw your blanket off and stormed out of your room, not caring that you were in an oversized sleep shirt with little lace panties underneath.

Your fist pounded against his door. “MEGUMI”

No response.

The girl was still giggling.

You banged again, harder

The door swung open, and there he was, shirtless, sweat-slicked, and pissed. “The fuck do you want?” His voice was low, still a little breathy.

You swallowed, throat tightening. You hated how good he looked like this—messy dark hair sticking up in different directions, his lean frame flexing as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re so fucking inconsiderate,” you spat, crossing your arms over your chest. “Some of us actually need to sleep, but no, every other night I have to deal with your little conquests keeping me up.”

Megumi’s jaw twitched. He exhaled sharply, glancing over his shoulder.

“Get out.” His voice was sharp, you blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Not you,” he sighed, turning back to the girl. “You.”

The girl made a noise of protest, but he was already pulling on his sweats, tossing her clothes toward her. She huffed but obeyed, sending you an annoyed glare as she shuffled past.

Megumi shut the door behind her and leaned against it, arms crossed, studying you. His gaze dipped down to your bare thighs, the hem of your shirt barely covering you.

“Happy now?” His tone was flat.

You rolled your eyes, huffing as you spun on your heel and stomped back to your room. “Whatever,” you muttered, slamming the door behind you.

Even with the apartment quiet and your bedroom was remotely comfy, feeling at ease your body refused to let you rest.

You twisted in your sheets, staring at the ceiling. So annoying. The way his voice rasped from behind that stupid door, the way his fingers dragged through his damp hair, the way his eyes lingered when he looked at you.

Twenty minutes passed. Then thirty.

Your body was not calming down, letting out a frustrated groan, throwing the blankets off you.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were on your feet, marching right back to his door.

You knocked—once, twice.

The door cracked open almost immediately, as if he had been expecting it. Megumi leaned against the frame, one brow raised, messy hair still sticking up in all directions. His sweats hung dangerously low on his hips now, exposing the deep V of his stomach.

“What?” His tone was lazy, almost amused.

You stood there for a second, heart pounding. Then, before you could hesitate, you grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanked him down, and kissed him.

Megumi grunted against your lips, surprised—but only for a second. Because then he was moving, grabbing your waist, pulling you flush against him as he backed you into his room.

“You’re so annoying,” you breathed between kisses.

He smirked against your mouth. “Just shut the fuck up” His fingers snapped the waistband of your panties against your hip, making you jolt.

“Why’d you come back, huh?” Megumi taunted, dragging his lips along your jaw “small part of you wanted what you rudely interpreted hm?”

“I did not!-“ you started, but then his knee pressed between your legs, making you gasp. He huffed a laugh, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

His fingers trailed down your thigh, slipping between your legs, brushing over the damp lace. His smirk widened.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s what I thought.”

You whined, grabbing at his wrists, but he just pressed in deeper, teasing you through the fabric until your thighs started to shake.

“What happened to all that attitude?” Megumi’s lips were at your ear now, voice like smoke. “You were just bitching at me. Now look at you.” He pushed your panties aside, sliding two fingers between your folds, and you gasped, clutching at his shoulders.

Megumi groaned, head tilting as he watched you squirm. “Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re soaked.”

But then he curled his fingers, dragging them along that sweet spot inside you, couldn’t do much but just look at his face full of concentration

You whimpered, clutching at him harder, but he wasn’t letting up. His fingers were slow, deliberate, teasing you until your legs were weak. “M-Megumi,” you choked, biting your lip.

He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Yeah?” You swallowed, panting against him. “I h-hate you.”He grinned. “Then why are you holding onto me like that?”

Before you could snap at him, he pulled his fingers out, making you whine in protest.

His hands were rough when they grabbed your waist, spinning you effortlessly and pressing your front against the cold wood of his dresser. The sharp edge dug into your stomach, but it only made the heat curling inside you burn hotter.

Megumi’s hands were greedy, yanking your tiny sleep shirt up over your hips, exposing your lace panties to the cool air of his room. He hummed, dragging his fingers along the curve of your ass before giving it a sharp slap, making you jolt forward with a yelp.

“I should’ve done this so much sooner,” he muttered, half to himself, unfiltered and low.

You heard the soft rustle of fabric as he shoved his sweats down, the quiet hitch of his breath as he wrapped a hand around himself, dragging his cock along your barely-covered folds. You gasped, hips twitching as he rubbed against you, slow and teasing, spreading your wetness along his length.

“Fuck,” he murmured, pressing his weight into you, keeping you still.

You swallowed hard, hands gripping the edge of the dresser, trying to ignore the way your thighs trembled.

He smirked, sliding a hand up your spine, pushing you down just a little more, making you arch your back, pressing your ass right against him.

The tip of his cock brushed your clit, you swear you were leaving claw marks against the dark wood of his dresser he was being more than mean.

Megumi huffed a quiet laugh. “So needy,” he murmured, dragging himself along your folds again, slow and deliberate. He pressed against your entrance of your cunt but didn’t push in, making you whine.

“M-Megumi,” you gasped, rocking your hips back against him. He groaned, gripping your waist tighter, fingers digging into your skin.

“Be loud,” he whispered “I wanna keep you up for once.” his moved the hem of his shirt up to lips keeping it between his teeth before lightly stroking himself. Lining him up perfectly with your pretty cunt “gonna be a big stretch baby” he sighs out before pushing in completely

Your mouth fell open, a broken moan spilling out as he stretched you, inch by inch. Megumi groaned behind you, one hand sliding up your back, gripping the nape of your neck, holding you still as he pressed deeper.

“Fuck,” he hissed, voice tight. “So fucking tight—”

You gasped, shuddering beneath him, your fingers gripping the dresser so hard your knuckles turned white. He was big, filling you inch by inch, splitting you apart at an achingly slow pace.

“Oh! Wait-,” you could feel the tears falling down your face, legs trembling.

He exhaled sharply, pulling out just a little before pushing back in, making you arch your back. “What? Baby tell me?”

You swallowed, cheeks burning. “M-more.” Megumi groaned, his hand gripping your nape tighter. “Fuck—yeah?”

You nodded desperately, pushing back against his dick , chasing the stretch, the feeling of him being all over you. He huffed a quiet laugh, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Greedy,” he murmured.

Then he snapped his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt, pulling a sharp, gasping moan from your throat.

You felt him, every thick inch dragging against your walls, stretching you so good it bordered on unbearable.

“Fuck,” he rasped, watching the way your body molded to his touch. “You take me so fucking well.”

You whimpered, thighs shaking as he kept that torturously slow pace, each deep roll of his hips making your stomach tighten, your breath stutter.

“Megumi!” you gasped, pressing your forehead against the wood.

His fingers curled around the back of your neck, tugging you upright until your back was flush against his chest. The heat of him, the sweat on his skin, the way his breath fanned against your ear—it was too much.

“You feel that?” he murmured, voice rough. He rolled his hips again, deeper this time, pressing a hand against your lower stomach. “Feel me right here?”

Your eyes fluttered shut, a whimper slipping past your lips as he ground against that spot inside you, the pressure of his palm making the sensation even worse.

He chuckled, dark and smug. “Yeah, you do.”

His free hand slid between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing slow, lazy circles. You choked on a moan, thighs squeezing together, but Megumi clicked his tongue, using his own legs to spread yours apart again.

“Don’t run from it,” he murmured, his other arm locking around your waist. “You wanted more, didn’t you?” Megumi’s teeth scraped along your jaw, his fingers pressing a little harder, hips thrusting a little faster. “Then take it.” And then he slammed into you, setting a brutal pace, fucking you into the dresser so hard the wood creaked.

Megumi groaned, gripping your waist with both hands now, using you as leverage as he pounded into you, like he had been waiting to fuck you stupid for weeks.

“That’s it,” he gritted out. “Be loud for me, princess.”

You couldn’t help it—even if you wanted to, even if you were trying to bite back your moans, he was fucking you too deep, too perfect, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over, dragging sounds from you you’d never let anyone else hear- let alone thought you could make any of these noises

His breath was hot against your ear, voice strained. “You gonna cum for me?”You whimpered, nodding desperately.

Megumi groaned, fingers tightening on your hips. “Then do it,” he muttered. “Cum all over me—”

And then his hand was back between your legs, fingers pressing against your clit just right, rubbing fast, merciless.

You screamed, body going tight, legs shaking as the orgasm crashed into you, rolling through you in waves so intense you swore you saw white.

“fuck..fu-“ you were sobbing uncontrollably

“Fuck—gonna cum—” he groaned, gripping your waist, slamming into you one last time before spilling deep inside you with a low, wrecked moan.

Finally, Megumi sighed, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder before pulling out, watching his cum slowly drip down your thighs. He groaned, swiping a thumb along the mess before bringing it to your lips.

“Open,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, letting him press his thumb past your lips, sucking lightly just to spite him.

Megumi huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “So fucking annoying,”

[onlyalyx]

𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑼𝑫 𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝘍𝘛: 𝑺𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑼♡

☪︎—age gap, mean teasing satoru, dumbification, overstimulation, possessiveness, creampie, he’s too good at sex, established relationship

"sex with older! Satoru can't be too bad right..?"

“You’re so pretty when you cry,” Satoru murmurs, palm flat against the arch of your back as he pushes in again, slow and deep like he’s trying to ruin you.

You whimper into the pillow, drooling into his sheets with your lashes soaked, mascara smeared all under your eyes. You don’t even care anymore, because all you can feel is him.

He’s big—too big. Always has been. The kind of stretch that makes you see stars when he first slides in, the kind of pleasure that’s way past your limit ten minutes in. But he doesn’t let up. He likes seeing how far you can take it, how stupid and ruined and pliant he can get you.

“‘Toru!" you cry again

“Aww. Can’t even talk right now, baby?” His voice is smooth and a little cruel, and he reaches around to grab your throat, not hard—just enough to make your little brain stutter. “What happened to all that attitude you had earlier, hm?”

You blink, dumb and empty, drool sliding from your mouth when he pulls you up just a little by your neck, whispering right into your ear.

“God, you’re so cute like this. So fucked-out already and I’m not even close to done.” His hips snap hard and you squeal, whole body jolting forward.

Satoru loves this part. Not the way you take him—that’s a given, he knew from day one that no one could ever make you feel the way he does—but the way you fold. Act like a brat all week,always tease him about the gray in his hair or the way he groans when he sits too long… and yet here you are, crying into his mattress because he’s fucking you dumb.

“This is what happens,” he pants, hand fisting in your hair now, pulling your head back so he can see your face in the mirror. “When you act like you don’t know what this dick does to you.”

Your eyes roll. He knows how good he is at sex. The worst part is that he doesn’t even have to try—he’s confident, cocky, and has more experience than any guy your age could dream of. He knows exactly where to touch, how to angle his hips, when to slow down or speed up.

“You needed this, didn’t you?” Satoru breathes, and now his hand’s between your legs again, his fingers rubbing tight little circles over your clit. “Needed me to fuck the brat outta you.”

Your whole body seizes when he hits that spot again, that perfect spot that only he can reach, and you choke on your sob as you cum around him for what feels like the third—no, fourth time tonight. You’re not even sure anymore. Everything’s hazy, glossy, soaked in heat and tears and the loud slap of skin and his voice in your ear.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls, holding your hips so tight you know there’ll be bruises. “You love when I fuck you like this, don’t you?”

You nod, still crying, still moaning, still grinding helplessly into his cock because you don’t even know how to stop.

“You wanna be my dumb little girl forever, huh?”

You nod again, sob out something that sounds like “yes, yes, ‘toru, please,” and he snaps.

“Fuck—gonna fill you up,” he groans, burying himself deep, so deep, and your nails claw into the sheets as his cock twitches inside you. “Gonna fuck a baby into you, yeah? Show everyone what happens when you act like a slut around me.”

You scream. Genuinely scream. Because he’s so deep, so hot, so good, and he’s not even pulling out—he’s just holding you down, grinding his cum into you, whispering sweet, filthy things as you fall apart underneath him.

[onlyalyx]

୨ৎ－𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄, ’𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 | 𝐂－𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

୨ৎ － 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | In which Chris gets grills

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. 18+, Dom!Chris, oral, fem!receiving, praising, pet names, detailed sexual encounter, light degradation, face grabbing, fingering, dom + sub dynamics, mentions of bruising or marking, tit groping, dirty talk

“Oh my god.”

Chris snickered, his grin practically splitting his face as the girl’s hand gripped his jaw, turning his face side to side with weak but deliberate movements. The cool metal of his brand-new grills gleamed under the room’s dim lighting, catching every angle as she inspected them in pure disbelief. Her fingers barely resisting the urge to squeeze his face in frustration.

Okay－he wasn’t actually gonna’ do it.

It started off innocent enough. Chris asked a simple question, his voice laced with curiosity.

“What’s one thing I could do that would drive you crazy?”

At first, the girl’s response was dismissive. “Everything.” Chris rolled his eyes, lips twitching into a playful smirk. “No—like—craaaazy.” He leaned in slightly, his tone teasing yet expectant. For a moment, the room was silent. Then, realization dawned on her. “You make me sick,” she muttered, grabbing the nearest thing within reach—her stuffed bunny—and tossing it at him.

Chris dodged it effortlessly, his laughter erupting so hard he swore a blood vessel might’ve burst. “It’s not funny!” she huffed. Oh, but it was. Until it wasn’t. Still chuckling, Chris wiped at his eyes, exhaling one last airy laugh before running a hand down his jaw. His fingers brushed over his chin in thought, his grin dimming into something more contemplative.

“Have you ever seen grills?” Silence. Not even a inhale was heard.

The boy blinked. “Grills, huh?” He mused.

Chris tilted his head slightly, studying her. She had pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them as she leaned against the bed frame. Her bottom lip was trapped between her teeth, and to his absolute delight, a deep crimson spread across her cheeks. “I’m joki—” she started, but her voice faltered the second she caught the look in his eyes.

Chris was staring at her with a new intensity, one that made her shrink back slightly. His once-playful expression had turned calculating, intrigued. His tousled hair flopped messily over his eyebrows as he sat up, his posture shifting. “You’re telling me if I got grills, you’d be foaming at the m—” She squealed, face burning as she smacked his arm—hard.

“Shut up!” But Chris just grinned wider, like a cat who had just found its new favorite toy.

“Interesting.” He dragged the word out, stretching his arms over his head before flopping onto his back. His mind was already spinning with possibilities. Was she being serious? She seemed pretty serious. Jesus－her cheeks were practically burning. His lips tipped up at the thought, tongue twinging the inside of his cheek.

“Don’t.” She warned, pointing her finger at him with an angry expression, as if she could physically hold him back with just a glare. Because the actual glare wasn’t enough apparently. Chris huffed out an amused chuckle. “Don’t what?” He feigned innocence, tilting his head toward her.

He watched as her throat bobbed, swallowing thickly as she averted her gaze downward. “Whatever you’re thinking. Just—don’t.” Chris hummed thoughtfully, placing his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know… you’re looking a little guilty right now. Almost like you’re imagining it.”

“I am not!” she shot back, but the way she immediately averted her gaze said otherwise. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips. “Uh-huh. You totally are.” She groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I really don’t.”

“Liar.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, eyes narrowing. “If you show up with grills, I swear to God, I will never speak to you again.” Chris gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Wow. So cruel.”

“I mean it.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

She eyed him warily, suspicious of the way he suddenly seemed way too relaxed. He had that look—like he was plotting something “Chris.” She deadpanned, jaw ticking in frustration.

“Yeah?”

She ran a hand down her face, groaning softly. “Promise me you won’t.”

He glanced at her, then shrugged. “Sure.”

She slapped her hands down onto her thighs, squinting at him with a gentle glare. “That wasn’t convincing!”

Chris blew out a aspirated laugh, sending her a smirk. “I said sure, didn’t I?”

“Chris.”

He rolled onto his side, grinning up at her. “What? You don’t trust me?” He muttered, jutting out his bottom lip a faux pout. God, he’s obnoxious.

“Not even a little.”

His smirk widened. “Good.”

The girl groaned again, flopping onto her pillow with an exasperated sigh. She knew, without a doubt, that she had just set herself up for something ridiculous.

Chris, still thoroughly amused, raised a brow. “What, Y/n?” His voice came out slightly muffled from the way she was squishing his cheeks. Her glare sharpened, but the effect was completely ruined by the heat creeping up her neck. The way his teeth sparkled when he smirked was unfair.

Chris caught the way her eyes flickered down to his mouth again, and his smirk deepened. Oh, this was gold. “You know what,” she huffed, finally letting go of his jaw and flopping back onto the edge of her bed. Chris immediately burst into laughter, his chest shaking as he threw his head back. “Oh, you are so mad right now,” he teased, wiping at the corner of his eye as if he had just heard the funniest joke of his life.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” she blurted out, still staring at him like he had committed a crime against humanity. Chris shrugged, casually leaning in closer so she had no choice but to look at them again. “What can I say? I aim to please.” She let out an exasperated groan, covering her face. “I hate you.”

Chris tilted his head, flashing a slow, smug grin that made his grills catch the light again. “You sure about that?”

As the diamonds glittered across his perfect teeth she felt her stomach do an embarrassing flip, breath hitching her in her throat as she swallowed. “Unfortunately,” she muttered, crossing her arms. Chris just laughed again, plopping down next to her like he owned the place. “Admit it. You like ’em.” He mused, leaning in.

She whined, tipping her head away as his breath tickled her neck. “I do not!” Chris tutted gently, tilting his head as he looked at her with a smirk. “Mmm-hmm.” He dragged the sound out, watching as she aggressively avoided his gaze.

She clenched her jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction. But then he leaned in just a little more, his voice dropping lower. “C’mon, Y/n. Say it.” A shiver went down her spine, jaw dropping open a bit as she felt a foreign feeling ignite in her core.

She swallowed. “You’re insufferable.” Chris only grinned wider, pure mischief dancing in his eyes. “And yet, here you are, still staring at my mouth.” If her cheeks weren’t burning then, they definitely were now. The two held eye contact－almost as if they were fighting in a battle of dominance.

Chris tilted his head, his cocky little grin making the girl want to slap him across the damn face. “Cmon’, baby.” His finger tips brushing against the revealed skin of her thigh, the sparks shooting right up to her pussy. Okay that’s it. Chris watched as her lips parted, wanting to chuckle at her flustered state－but how could he embarrass her anymore than he already has? After all, he wasn’t a monster.

The girl fumbled, but promptly trapped a pillow, and smacked him across the face with it. “Fuck.” He grunted, huffing out a soft laugh. She slapped a hand over her lips, muffling the array of little laughs and giggles, backing up from him. “Oh my god－” In a swift motion, Chris grabbed her wrist and pushed her back against the bed, his weight hovering over her as she let out a startled gasp. The playful teasing in his eyes had vanished, replaced with something sharper. Something unreadable.

Her pulse jumped. “Chris—”

“Say it,” he ordered, low and demanding, his grip firm but not painful. His face was dangerously close now, close enough that she could see the faint silver glint of his grills as he spoke. She swallowed hard, her heart hammering against her ribs. “Let me go.” His fingers flexed against her wrist, but he didn’t move. Instead, he tilted his head, studying her like he was trying to figure something out. Like he was waiting.

The air between them grew thick, charged. “Tell me the truth,” he muttered. “If I slip my hand into here,” she gasped, feeling his one hand slide down from her wrist, and into the hem of her sleep shorts, toying with the frill gently. “Are you gonna be wet?”And God, he looked like he knew it.

The air between them was stifling, heavy with something neither of them wanted to name. Thick, hot, tension. It wasn’t the kind of tension that was uncomfortable－but rather suffocating. And she’d be a bold faced liar to say that it didn’t have her thighs trembling. Her breath stuttered as his fingers traced the delicate hem of her shorts, barely there, just a ghost of a touch. But it was enough. Enough to make her entire body lock up, enough to send a shiver down her spine. “Fuck.” She whined.

Chris smirked, slow and knowing. “You gonna answer me?” His voice was husky, thick with amusement—but underneath, there was something else. Something darker. She swallowed hard, her fingers twitching against his hold. “Chris—” his grip tightened, just enough to make her heart skip, and for her to cunt ache. Why did she feel this way?

It made her want to sob. “I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks, burning, spreading down her neck. She hated how easily he unraveled her, how quickly he turned her into a mess with just his words and the way he looked at her—like he already knew the answer. Chris felt his jaw clench, not knowing if his smirk was going to widen, and let up－His fingers flexed against her hip, teasing, like he was debating whether to push further.

Her breath came out uneven, her body betraying her as she clenched her thighs together, desperate to ignore the way his presence alone sent a pulse of warmth through her, making her fucking drip. Chris tilted his head, his lips ghosting near her ear. “You can act all defiant,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk, “but your body’s saying something else.”

Her nails dug into his arm, trying to push him away, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he leaned in even closer, his breath hot against her skin. “You wanna keep pretending, or are you gonna admit it?” Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, drowning out everything else. And when he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, eyes laced with mischief and something far more dangerous—she knew she was in trouble.

It felt like a million lifetimes looking into his eyes, hearing and feeling the pulse thrumming inside of her core. “Touch me.” She finally whined, one lone tear of frustration drooling from her eye. Chris had a glint in his eyes－an unmistakable look of victory. But what kind of winner would he be if he didn’t thank the host? Without any hesitation he lowered his head, pressing his lips to hers.

A moan emitted her parted lips, making him chuckle, running the tip of his tongue across the bottom of her lip gently. “Thas’ okay, hmm?” Chris mumbled, one of his hands gripping the pillow above her head as she nodded breathlessly beneath him. “Good－s’so fucking good.” The girl whimpered out, her free hand tangling into his brown mass of messy hair.

Chris grunted as he felt her tug him down onto her, his hips pressing against the gap between her parted thighs. Teeth gnashing together as he fed into her mouth hungrily, as if he’d been starved from the taste of her for his entire life. “Fuck,” he groaned, a string of spit connecting between their lips as he pulled away.

Her hips pushed up into his visible hard on, desperate for some sort of friction. “Mm－mm,” he gritted his teeth, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “－keep doing that and you won’t leave this room in one piece.” Chris uttered, hissing as she tugged on his hair, whining softly. He leaned back down, cursing as she took his bottom lip between her teeth, nipping delicately while simultaneously rutting her hips up into his.

Pre-cum pearled at the tip of his cock, and Chris whimpered into her mouth as she ran her warm tongue over his jewelled teeth. He chuckled, “If I knew that this is all I needed to do to have you rubbin’ on me like a bitch in heat, I would’ve done it a loooo－ng time ago.” Asshole, she bit on his lip hard.

Chris only snickered, moaning the pain away as he begin to kiss down her jaw. “Mm, you smell s’good.” Her eyes fluttered as she felt the boys teeth nip at the sensitive part of her neck, running his tongue over the area to ease the sting. “Chris,” she whined, bunching up fistfuls of his white shirt in her hands. “Y/n,” he mocked, edging a whine to his tone as he rolled his hips into her soaked panty-covered cunt.

Her eyes rolled back at the friction, a broken moan tearing from her throat as she threw her head back into the pillows. “Fuck!” She cried, feeling the boys chest rumble with a deep chuckle at the sound. “Good, baby?” Chris lifted his head, peering down on her with a heavy gaze. A sense of sick satisfaction bubbled in his chest as he saw her fall apart, and he hadn’t even fucked her yet.

Her eyes were fluttering with pleasure, a twinkle in her eyes as she heaved. A thin layer of dew lying on her face sweetly, making the stray strands of her hair stick to the edges of her jaw. “Awe,” Chris cooed, bringing a hand to her face, running his thumb across her plump bottom lip. “how pitiful.” He uttered, lips twitching as she parted her lips.

He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, wanting to moan as he slowly slipped his thumb into her warm mouth. “Fuck me,” he muttered, feeling his cock ache painfully in his carpenter jeans. Her eyes were groggy, slow but wide blinks sent his way as she sucked his thumb into her cheeks as if it were his dick. And god, did he wish it was.

“Gonna be a good girl f’me?” Chris mumbled, swallowing thickly as he pressed down onto her tongue. “Good－” the girl cut herself off as she heard her slurred speech, his thumb in the way of her getting a coherent response out. “Hm?” She whined, eyes tearing as she shifted her hips in frustration. “I’ll－good.” Chris chuckled as he watched her eyes screw shut in embarrassment, cheeks red as her words came out incredibly butchered.

Chris silently cooed as he swiped his salvia coated thumbed across her cheek, humming softly to get her attention. “Yeah? Cause the only thing you’ll be cumming on tonight is my tongue.” He muttered, patting her cheek in a degrading manner. “So spread those fuckin’ legs.” And just like that, he was hooking his fingers into the hem of her shorts, slipping them down her plush thighs.

They shook ever so slightly, jerking as he began to move down her body, his breath fanning against her wet panty covered cunt. “Mm,” she yelped as his thumb pressed down onto the divot of her pussy, the fabric rubbing against her clit. “－already so wet for me, aren’t you sweetheart?” Instinctively, her hand shot down to wrap around his wrist as he applied more pressure.

His domineer darkened at the action, his movements halting. The change in atmosphere sent a shiver down the girls spine, and Chris tutted as he watched more wetness soak her panties. “Now this, this is just pitiful.” Her jaw fell open as Chris slipped a hand up her larger T-shirt (that was probably his), his large hand moulding around her perky tit. “S－shit!” She cried, eyes soaked with tears as his thumb rolled over her sensitive bud, his lips coming down and placing a gentle peck directly on her cunt.

He continued to swirl his finger over her nipple, pinching and gripping the skin as if it were his personal toy. His hot breath fanned across her wet underwear, sending shock waves through her body. “Fuck－Chris!” She gasped, a whimper tearing from her mouth as his teeth nipped at her clothed pussy.

Chris snickered, squeezing her breast in an almost apologetic gesture, even though she knew he wasn’t sorry. “Sorry baby,” his other hand tugged down her tainted underwear, and the boy almost came at the sight underneath. “I just really need this.” He whispered, in awe.

Her pussy was so fucking cute. Pink and wet, arousal dripping into the inside of her parted thighs as they shook. Her hips shifted, rutting up in desperation for any sort of friction. The poor girl just wanted－no－needed, to be fucked. “Please.” Fuck.

Chris softly grounded his cock into the mattress, rolling his bottom lip into his mouth as he used his middle and ring finger to spread her wet folds open. “I know, I know sweet girl.” Without another word said, he dove in, locking his lips with her soaked ones. “Shit!” A sharp gasp that almost edged on a whine emitted her lips, feeling Chris’s tongue licking a bold stripe up her core.

Deep. God, it was so fucking deep. Chris fucked his tongue inside of her as if it were his cock, the arch of his nose pressed against her clit as his teeth lightly grazed the tight walls of her cunt. Coated with arousal, Chris licked it up, drool dripping back down onto her sopping heat. “O－oh god.” Her head threw back into the pillows, eyes screwed shut in a painful manner.

It felt so fucking good, rolling her hips up to meet the rhythm of his tongue sliding into her little hole. Chris, however, fought for his damn life. “Mm.” He moaned at the taste of her on his tongue, savouring it like it was his last fucking meal. His eyes parted in a drunken gaze to her, watching her heaving chest, her shirt now ridden up, exposing her tits.

“Fuck.” Chris panted, sending a shiver through the girl as his breath fanned through her walls. “S’okay? Y－you’re okay?” The boys eyes softened at her slurred words, nodding softly at her. Even though she wasn’t looking at him. “I’m more than okay my little baby.” His heart－and cock, ached. How fucking cute, even fucked dumb like to poor thing she was, she made sure he was okay. “Just lemme－lemme make you feel good.”

The almost begging to his tone made the girl whine, feeling his hot mouth mould around her aching pussy. Her pre-release coated his tongue like a sinful melody, his cock paining as he withheld the oncoming orgasm. He just wanted to make you feel good. “You－fuck!－you’re making me feel good b-baby.” Chris’s moan at the term of endearment rumbled against her cunt, making her moan.

Chris’s hands held her thighs in a bruising grip, so tight that she was positive it was definite that marks would come through. Her torso arched, hips rutting up into his tongue as the muscles on his tongue pressed against the walls of her cunt. “I’m gonna－oh fuck, I’m gonna cum－” the stingingly cold metal of his chain gently swayed across her sensitive bundle of nerves, making her legs jerk.

“Yeah? Cum, cum f’me sweet girl.” Fuck.

Her gut clenched, an unwavering tightness of pressure swirling around her belly. “Ch－Chris..” his eyes flicked upward, watching as her nose scrunched, a soft cry choking from her lips. “I feel weird－ah－I’m gonna－” she moaned, sobbing out as Chris nipped her clit.

“You’re okay, hm?” Chris unlatched his lips from hers, swirling his middle and ring finger around her clit furiously. Her eyes widened, a sharp yelp eliciting her mouth as she felt something hit her. She fought it so hard－because it was foreign. “Chris－fuck!－I can’t!” Chris cooed, watching as tears ran down her face , along with the look of confusion.

He squeezed her thigh gently, humming. “Yes you can.” He mumbled softly, looking into her eyes as her pupils dilated. “Attaaa’ good fuckin girl.” He praised, watching as her lips parted, a drawled out moan tearing from her throat.

“Fuck.”

Chris felt the muscles in her walls tense around the tips of his fingers, before her thighs began to shake as wetness coated the sheets underneath. His lips, his fingers－fuck, it was probably in his mouth. Chris was in awe, hearing her choked cries as she came down from her unreal release, her body already starting to shut down from how exhausted it left her. “Shhh－I got you, I have you－” Chris crawled up her body, using the pad of his thumb to brush away her tears.

Small hiccups left her lips. “Did I do good－was I bad? I－” Chris shut her down with a soft ‘shhhh’, pressing a loving peck to her forehead. “You did so good sweetheart.” He assured, feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm still trembling through her tired frame. “I know it was a lot－but it’s all over, and it was good. Hm?” She softly nodded, tensing as she offered a gentle yawn.

Chris chuckled, pressing his lips to hers. “Tired, doll?” She hummed, eyes groggily blinking up at him. “Did you－” her eyes widened for a split second, guilt flashing in them as she reached a hand down to the tent in his jeans. Chris grunted, blowing out a small laugh as he grabbed her wrist. “I came.” He whispered, tilting his head with a small smile.

A look of confusion crossed her cute features. “Then why are you still ..” Chris lifted an eyebrow, smirking down at her as he brushed a few hairs away from her eyes. “Hard?” At her nod, Chris shrugged.

“Tears turn me on.”

୨ৎ－ @fratbrochrisgf @jetaimevous @sturniolosarethebest @stonermattsgf @st7rnioioss @endereies@mqttittude @conspiracy-ash @courta13 @bamsblooming @thecrawlys @whore4mattsturniolo @sturniolo-szn2 @amayaaaho @sturns-mermaid @loser4lifeeee @leoslaboratory

[onlyalyx]

DICK GRAYSON IS YOUR COWORKER +18⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀💭

Coworker Dick who flirts with everyone in the office but only wants you. He’s all winks and easy smiles, the golden boy who makes even the most boring meetings bearable—but it’s you he always circles back to. You, who gets the first coffee he picks up in the morning. You, who gets his dumb little notes scribbled onto reports with “you looked good today” in the margins. You, who catches the way his fingers twitch every time you brush past him, like he’s aching to touch you but knows better than to do it where someone else might see.

Coworker Dick who thought he was normal before you. He thought he had a decent work-life balance, that he could function like a regular person. But now? Now he can’t go five minutes without thinking about you. His whole fucking day revolves around you—watching the clock, waiting for lunch breaks, finding any excuse to be near you.

Coworker Dick who jerks off to the thought of you in the office bathroom. It’s pathetic, shameful, but he can’t stop. All it takes is a glance at you—the way your lips part slightly when you’re focused, the way your nails tap against the desk, the scent of your perfume lingering when you walk past him— and he’s hard. So fucking hard, sitting there at his desk, trying to focus on emails when all he can think about is you.

Coworker Dick who sits in a stall, biting his fist, stroking himself fast and desperate, whispering your name. He pictures your thighs wrapped around his head, your hand gripping his hair, your voice telling him how good he is. And when he comes, messy and quick, muffling his groans into his sleeve— he’s already aching for more. Already fixing his tie, washing his hands, stepping back into the office with a flushed face and a new plan to get you alone.

Coworker Dick who turns into such a needy wreck the second you let him have you. One drunken work happy hour is all it takes—his mouth crashing onto yours in a dark booth, hands shaking as they slide under your skirt like he can’t believe this is real. And you let him. You let him drop to his knees right there, between your legs, breathless, whispering, “I’ll be good, I’ll be so good for you.” And when you guide him out of the bar and into a taxi, dragging him home like a stray puppy, he follows without hesitation.

Coworker Dick who doesn’t stop begging once you let him taste you. He eats you out like a man possessed, moaning like he’s the one getting off. Tongue sloppy, needy, greedy, pushing deep while he ruts against the mattress like some depraved thing, whimpering when you tug his hair. “Please—please let me make you come—” He’s gasping between sucks, his perfect lips shiny with spit and slick, shaking when you grind against his face and come all over his tongue. And even then, he doesn’t stop—just licks it all up, fucking obsessed with how you taste.

Coworker Dick who acts like nothing happened the next morning—except now, his texts are filthier. Thinking about you. Miss your taste. Can I see you tonight? Please?

Coworker Dick who can’t keep his hands off you at work. He’s insatiable, desperate for any excuse to touch you. A hand ghosting over your lower back as he leans in to “help” you with some spreadsheet bullshit. A knee pressing between your thighs under the desk during a meeting. Fingers slipping beneath the hem of your skirt just to feel. And when lunch rolls around, when everyone’s busy laughing and chatting in the break room—he’s already pulling you into the nearest bathroom stall, dropping to his knees like it’s a prayer. "Please—fuck, I need it."

Coworker Dick who sobs into your cunt like a fucking starved man. His pretty, flushed face buried between your thighs, licking, sucking, devouring you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. His tongue flicking your clit fast and messy, lips latching on like he’s kissing your mouth instead of your pussy. His moans vibrating against you, shameless and loud, muffled only by the wet suck of his mouth. And when you yank his hair, grind against his face, drench his chin— he fucking shakes, shuddering through his own untouched orgasm, just from eating you out.

Coworker Dick who follows you home every night now. He doesn’t even ask anymore—just shows up at your door, blue eyes wide, lip bitten, already half-hard in his slacks. And when you let him in, he strips in seconds, sprawling out on your bed, already panting like a bitch in heat.

Coworker Dick who lives to be fucked. "Please, I’ve been good," he whines, voice shaky, presenting himself to you like a gift. And you know what he wants—his favorite strap, thick and black, the one that makes his pretty mouth go slack the second you lube it up. And when you push in, slow at first, letting him adjust—he’s already pushing back, already begging for more. "Harder, please—fuck me harder—"

And you give it to him. You pound him into the mattress, grip firm on his hips, dragging him back onto your strap with every thrust. He’s babbling, voice breaking with high, needy moans, body shaking as he takes it deeper, rougher, harder. His cock is leaking untouched, dripping, twitching, his stomach clenching every time you slam into him just right.

Coworker Dick who loses his fucking mind when you flip him over. You hoist his legs up, pinning him beneath you, thrusting deep while his eyes roll back, mouth open, whimpering like the pretty little plaything he is. His hands scrabble at your arms, his voice breaking when you finally fist his cock, jerking him hard and fast while you wreck him. "Oh God—oh fuck—" He cums so fucking hard, ropes of it splattering his chest, his stomach, his chin, his whole body trembling under you, overstimulated and wrecked.

Coworker Dick who clings to you after. Face flushed, breathing heavy, curling into you, pressing soft, lazy kisses to your skin. You clean him up, stroke his hair, and he just sighs, content, needy, yours.

Coworker Dick who doesn’t care about labels. "I’m not your boyfriend," he says one night, naked in your bed, still marked up from your nails, still bruised from your grip. "I don’t need to be. Just… use me whenever you want." And he means it. Every desperate inch of him.

Coworker Dick who gets jealous. He doesn’t mean to. He knows you’re not dating. But when he sees you laughing a little too much with someone else? When some guy from accounting puts a hand on your shoulder? It drives him fucking crazy. He won’t say anything—not out loud. But suddenly, he’s there. Right at your side. Interrupting conversations, finding reasons to steal you away. “Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?” Hand firm on your wrist, pulling you into an empty hallway, crowding you against the wall.

And when you smirk, when you tease, “Jealous, Grayson?” he groans, pressing against you, rutting his hard cock against your thigh. “What if I am?”

Coworker Dick who tries to be normal but fails. He texts you constantly now. At work: Miss you already. When’s lunch? You looked so fucking hot in that meeting. Couldn’t stop staring. At night: Can I come over? Please? I’ll be good. I’ll do anything.

Coworker Dick who always finds ways to mark you. He doesn’t like seeing you go to work without some reminder of him on your skin. Hickeys on your thighs, bruises on your hips, fingerprints on your waist where he held you too tight. He fucking lives for that shit. "Wear a skirt tomorrow," he murmurs after fucking you stupid, panting against your neck. “Want you thinking about me every time you cross your legs.”

Coworker Dick who wants you to ruin him completely. You can see it in his hungry, desperate eyes every time you push him down onto the bed. Every time you pull his hair, shove him onto his back, climb on top of him and ride him until he’s shaking. "I’ll do anything for you," he whispers against your lips, aching, devoted, lost. And the worst part? He fucking means it.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[onlyalyx]

Just curious if you could do this, but-

Pegging batboys headcanons? PLEASE???

I would literally sacrifice my first born for you if you make this happen.

*Twirls hair* Ily, bye!!

😘

I screamed (the s is silent)

"Can I shove my fake, thick cock in your ass baby? Please? God pleasepleaseplease-"

Pegging the batfam HC:

Bruce Wayne

He'd be unsure at first, I think. He had never been with a woman who not only was desperately horny 24/7 (I see you sluts), but was also kinky as hell.

This was new.

At first he'd say no, the idea was uncomfortable to him and you understood, you thanked him for thinking about it, then gave him a really good blow to soothe it over.

After that... he dived into the research.

It started with articles, about the safety and concerns with pegging, proper handling, and 'etiquette'.

Then he started watching videos when you weren't home, and he was alone.

He watched as men were reduced to nothing but whimpering, pleading messes under the relentless, or sensual assault of their lovers silicone cocks.

He got rock hard.

Then he brought it to you.

And within hours you had playboy billionaire philanthropist, begging and crying on his hands and knees, needing you to stop teasing and prepping and to just fuck him.

How could you say no?

Dick Grayson

"Yes"

It was his immediate answer. And honestly it kind of caught you off guard. You knew dick was a slut, but you didn't know he was this much of a slut.

He let you do all the prep you needed, he bought toys for himself, proper lube, etc, wanting it to be perfect.

When it finally happens you do a little roleplay, then he's yanking down your pants and watching the (surprisingly realistic) silicone spring free from your pants.

He's practically slobbering as he blows you, though you can't feel it, you have a vibrator inside of you for some mutual satisfaction. And he's getting off on the sound of your moans as he hollows his cheeks and pulls off with a lewd pop.

You have him bent over the couch within seconds, biting and sucking at his shoulders and the back of his neck as you pound into that plump ass of his.

He can only cry and beg for more.

Jason Todd

He didn't know what you meant at first.

Yeah he could be kinky but it hadn't been long since he had come back from the dead, he just got used to having you back in his arms, so sex was soft, loving. He didn't want to hurt you.

Then you explained what it was.

And his eyes go wide.

He loves you too much he can't say no.

Again, going through the prep.

Once it's time you slowly push in and his eyes fly wide.

Then he's fisting himself as he buries his face into your pillows, inhaling your scent as he rocks back and forth on the bed, trying to hide his moans, and the way his face flushed, not expecting this to feel so fucking good.

Then you start to hear little grunts, then moans, and he gradually gets louder as he gets closer, and closer.

And when he cums it's explosive, and you've reduced him into a whimpering, begging mess. "One more time- please- please-"

Tim Drake

He brought it up first. And it surprised you. You both sat together, did research, watched videos (and helped each other get off to those videos.)

You went shopping together and brought the proper supplies and asked important questions to forums with a lot more experience. And once you both felt that you were ready, it began.

Tim was loud. Louder than all of them. This little muscly twink was pushing his ass back against you with every thrust, throwing his head back, arching, moving into any position you wanted him in just so he could feel you deeper.

You got off on how loud he was being.

Tim, who was normally so focused, quiet, observant, was blissfully fucked out of his mind, drooling, crying out your name as he grasped and tugged on your arms, hair, hips, anything he could get his hands on...

He'd die happy like this, speared on your cock.

Damian Wayne

"No fucking way"

He wouldn't even let you explain what it was. At first he kind of kink shamed you, and you won't lie, it stung.

He noticed you went quiet after that, even when he made love to you, your moans were quieter, almost entirely just grunts or soft sighs, like he wasn't making you as aroused as he used too.

He apologized, figuring out quickly that it was the way he shut down your words so quickly. All you asked was for him to just research.

And research he did.

He was still unsure, but eventually you managed to talk him into it.

He couldn't deny by the end that he thought it was definitely diffrent... fun in a way.

You both agreed it wouldn't happen all the time, only when you really needed to add some spice to the bedroom, or when he found himself begging for it.

Now that boosted your ego.

And when he was under you? He was a lot like Jason, moaning, hiding his face in embrarssment, fisting himself to every thrust, his orgasm coming so fast his mind went blank.

Safe to say, the batboys love that thick silicone cock of yours.

Slut.

Tag list:

All: @francesfarhadi

Batfam:

BW smut:

DG smut:

JT smut:

TD smut:

DW (aged up) smut:

[onlyalyx]

IF I WAS A RICH GIRL ♡

pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x bratty!fem!reader x bodyguard!dick grayson

summary: for the first time ever, jason needs dick's help with a client. upon meeting you, dick understands why. you're a handful - bratty, needy, the whole deal. luckily for everyone involved, dick has a soft spot for brats and jason has a tendency to follow in his footsteps.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, threesome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, hair pulling, praise/degradation, gun play, brat taming, dacryphilia

wc: 12.9k

a/n: i did not intend for this to be so long, but i am physically incapable of shutting the fuck up unfortunately. anyways comm for the sweetest ever @fearcvlt. thank you again hehe. as always reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

Dick watched the numbers above the elevator door light up one at a time. Every couple seconds, the soft glow moved one space to the right. It started with 1, 2, 3 and now landed on 67, 68, 69. Finally 70 lit up and a soft ding sounded through the cabin.

He shifted his duffel bag on his shoulder and took a deep breath. When Jason had texted him a few days ago, he made this situation sound dire.

Dick had been in the middle of working out, pulling himself up and down using the rings hanging from the ceiling of the gym. The chime of his phone pulled him from the focus that came with his muscles burning and sweat dripping from his hairline.

'Are we allowed to drop clients?' was the first message he saw.

But then another quickly followed.

'It's been a full twenty-four hours.'

At first he wondered if it was a joke, but Jason didn't really joke about clients.

He tried thinking to himself what case he'd even been assigned to. That gig at the shipping yard had wrapped up by now, and that stalking victim had canceled on them for another security firm.

Then he remembered. That Monday Jason was supposed to start with the senator's daughter.

Something must have really been wrong for him to want to drop that. It was one of the best jobs they'd been offered since starting up their agency. It was full-time protection, meaning round the clock, 24/7 pay.  Also a high profile contractor like a senator meant word of mouth getting around to his colleagues, similar types who would want some security for their own twenty-something-aged brats.

'We can't drop her. Maybe I can see about someone swapping cases with you. Did something happen?' was all he responded with.

The reply was instant. 'I'll take literally anything else.'

'She can't be that bad,' he sent in return.

'You take her then. Find out for yourself.'

He rolled his eyes at his dramatics. There was no way you could really be so awful. While Jason didn't joke about work that much, he loved to complain. Shaking his head, Dick typed back a final message.

'Keep your head for the next few days. I'll come see what I can do over the weekend.'

So that was what he planned on doing for at least the next five or so days. He had said the weekend, but it was Thursday now, and he didn't have to do anything else till next Wednesday. Plus, he figured Jason would try his hardest to rope him in for longer if things with you hadn't changed.

He walked into the entrance hall of the penthouse, eyes briefly scanning his surroundings like they always do upon entering somewhere new. The design was sleek. A classy white end table sat below a large mirror with delicate decorations adorning its surface. A plush rug rolled down the hallways to a set of French doors.

One glance around told him this was all expensive. Every detail chosen by someone young, experiencing their first taste of independence. It was cute in a way. At least he thought so. He could only imagine the distaste Jason had reacted with upon seeing the pink candles or vases of dainty flowers.

He continued in the direction of what he assumed was the living room. Though he had only taken a few more steps across the fuzzy rug before he heard loud voices muffled by the doors ahead. He paused and narrowed his eyes for a moment, trying to determine the severity.

The first voice he knew belonged to Jason. It boomed with annoyance, loud and brash. The other was higher pitched.  He waited a few moments, feeling out the rhythm of the argument. Back and forth, back and forth. There was no third party, which meant it wasn't any serious danger.

He took another breath and braced himself to be put in the middle of whatever spat you two were having. Jason still hadn't been clear about what his exact problem with you was, so he didn't know what to fully expect. From the few things he had said over the phone, he gained the impression you were just a spoiled rich girl, and Jason's temper wasn't made to deal with any of those.

Grabbing one of the bronze handles, Dick pushed the door open. From where he stood in the alcove that held the doors, he didn't think either of you had noticed him enter.

The scene looked as he expected. Jason leaned against the pristine ivory island in the kitchen while you stood at the back of the large taupe sectional that spanned through the living area. You had your arms crossed over your chest, your foot looking as if you had just stamped it on the hardwood below. Jason, on the other hand, appeared as though he was about to explode. His fingers rubbed at his eyes before he spoke.

"For the last goddamn time, I'm not taking you, so find something else to do.”

"No. It's not your job to tell me what to do. You're only getting paid to follow me around where I wanna go," you retorted.

"I'm not taking you to the fucking mall!" he exclaimed, flinging his arms open, "Christ, you have a cell phone, a laptop, and an ipad. You could probably even use that watch you got on your wrist to shop."

"But it's not the same," you pouted.

Upon hearing that, it seemed like Jason's brain was actually on the verge of malfunctioning. In an attempt to help out, Dick walked the rest of the way in.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, his voice much cooler than the tense argument that preceded it.

Immediately, both sets of eyes were on him. Jason's features melted into relief while yours swirled with curiosity.

"Is this your boss?" you asked. Your arms fell to smooth out the small shorts you had on before they rose again to make sure your hair was in place.

Meanwhile, a sneer spread on Jason's face again. "No. We're partners," he said.

"C'mon, Jason. I like to think of us as friends before coworkers," Dick teased and flashed a smile. That earned him one out of you in return. Right then, he knew this would be easy.

He headed over to the area where you stood, and acting charming as ever, stuck his hand out in search of yours.

You gladly returned the exchange, offering your palm up for shaking like a trained puppy.

"I'm Dick Grayson," he introduced. He wrapped his fingers around your hand with a firm grip.

Your smile widened before those soft lips parted to expel the syllables of your own name. You were being so much sweeter now that your sights had been set on someone besides Jason. Jason, who was currently watching with a mix of disbelief and irritation as your bratty temperament melted away before his eyes.

"Would you mind showing me where I could put my stuff?" Dick asked.

"Oh sure," you answered, "Follow me."

You waved him in your direction before prancing through an archway that led to a small area with a few doors and the stairs.

"I'll just show you where everything is while we're at it. That's the main bathroom. That's the office. And then up the stairs is where all the bedrooms are."

He followed behind you through the small room and then up the curved staircase. Jason trailed behind him, watching like this mask of pleasantness would fall away to reveal your true attitude any second.

Your hips swayed as you walked up each step. He felt like the way your ass jutted out a little as they did was intentional, but it didn't matter. Dick could be professional when he needed to be. He kept his eyes averted and stayed along your path.

After the stairs, you led them down a thin strip of lofted walkway that overlooked the living room and kitchen. With one hand on the silver railing, you explained each door that lined the wall as you went.

"That's the smaller living room. That's the second bathroom. That's the guest room Jason is staying in. And here is yours," you said as you got to the second to last door. You pushed it open and gestured proudly at the space.

"Looks nice. Thank you," he said before heading in. 

He tossed his bag on the bed and glanced around. It truly was nice. The bed looked like one out of a five star hotel. The end tables were polished and seemed as though they'd never seen a visitor throughout their time here. And then there were the floor-to-ceiling windows against the farthest wall. There was nothing to see outside right now. This floor rested so high up, clouds engulfed the glass panes.

"Mhm," you hummed before biting your lip, "And my room is the last door. There's always extra space in my bed if you don't like this one."

"But I thought you said I was a perv for suggesting that?" Jason interjected and shot you a glare from where he leaned against the door frame.

"Ummm, yeah, you are," you deadpanned, "I'm offering it to him, not the other way around like you did, obviously."

"It was a joke," Jason grumbled.

Before the tension could bubble over again, Dick laughed and looked over his shoulder at your teasing expression. "You know, I appreciate the offer, but this looks like more than enough for now."

"Ok, well let me know if you change your mind. I'll let you put your stuff away while I figure out what we can get for dinner," you told him before stepping back out of the room.

Dick waited a few moments to make sure you were really gone before turning to Jason and smirking. 

"That's who you've been having such a hard time with?" he mocked.

"I swear that's the best she's been all week. When it's just me, she doesn't quit. She goes on and on and on. Whining, complaining. It's borderline harassment to be honest," he responded and crossed his arms.

"Oh come on," he laughed, "She's as hard to deal with as a kitten."

"For you," he responded, "Once she gets bored of you, she'll act the same."

"Guess we're banking on the fact that I'm a lot more entertaining than you then, huh?" he teased.

"Shut up," Jason scoffed before turning and leaving the room too.

Over the next couple hours, Dick got settled in his room and then migrated back downstairs to feel out the situation here. Already he could guess why Jason didn't like you, but if things continued the way they were, he wouldn't mind slipping into his place. A full day of pay, and all he'd have to do is flirt back and forth with you every now and again.

In the living room, you laid back in the corner of your couch. Some tv show played as background noise while you scrolled through your phone. He made an effort to talk to you, to subtly observe more of your personality. Fortunately, you were pretty open to his attempts. Once he found a subject you liked, it was like flood gates opened. You couldn't have been more eager for someone to talk with.

Poor thing, he thought. You had everything you could want, but you were still so starved for attention.

As he listened to you chatter about your favorite tv show or something that happened last summer between you and your friend, he could see the quirks in you that drove Jason up the wall.

For one, you had a tendency to pout. He didn't think you were even aware of it most of the time. While he found it kind of cute, he knew that every time your lip started to puff out, it would send Jason's blood pressure through the roof.

You also were very touchy. Over the course of the short conversation, you drifted from your end of the couch to the cushion right next to Dick. Whenever you laughed your hand landed on his forearm. If he joked around in return, you'd lightly shove his bicep.

It was all pretty juvenile, methods of flirting used most often by kids with their first crushes, but he didn't mind. You were sweet and well-intentioned. Just so desperate to feel wanted.

And admittedly, he played into your desires a bit. He knew Jason would have lambasted him if he was down here right now instead of taking a break in his own room, but Dick didn't really care. Technically, he wasn't the one on call. Though even if he was, it's not like was overtly flirting with you. He was just having some fun and keeping you entertained. A few compliments and well-placed touches. That was it.

He straightened out his behavior a little by the time Jason did return downstairs to join you both for the dinner you'd had delivered.

You stood at the end of the table, graciously distributing the containers of food while they took up a seat on either side of you. Things went pretty smoothly overall. Once you each had a plate with your dishes of choice, you sat down and began to eat.

"You have that big kitchen," Jason commented after a few bites, looking over his shoulder at the room in question, "Do you ever actually cook anything?"

You narrowed your eyes for a moment but responded in the most calm tone of voice. "Yes, I do. But not for you."

Luckily, all that came from the tense exchange was Jason rolling his eyes. Neither of you seemed interested in launching into a full argument when you could focus on the food in front of you instead. A few minutes of quiet passed, but then conversation sprouted back up without an issue.

You asked them how they got into “bodyguarding,” making sure to add that modeling had to have been on the table for Dick. As with most interactions, he responded with a charming laugh. Though this time Jason interrupted to give you the spiel about their past - they worked together under the same mentor at a security company and decided to branch off and start their own as partners.

"Yeah, but why?" you questioned when he concluded his story, "Isn't it like... scary? You have to protect people from stalkers and stuff? That sounds so nerve wracking."

"It's not if you're good at your job like us," Jason dismissed.

Dick saw the frown appear on your face, and he swooped in with an answer of his own to make you feel less discarded. 

"It can be tense sometimes on rough cases, but it's really rewarding, you know? Getting to help people and protect them from the worst parts of life gives us a purpose," he explained.

"That makes sense," you nodded before laughing a little, "I could never do what you two do. I'm wayyyy too scared of being shot."

Dick chuckled, but Jason's look didn't soften at all.

"What is it you plan on doing with your life?" Jason asked.

His tone was short, prime for judgement, but you tried to let it roll off you. You kept your shoulders back as you answered the question, like it was a part of an interview you'd prepared for.

"I'm not totally sure what I'm gonna do with my whole life, but in the spring I'm gonna start working for my dad as an aide. Like when he takes office and everything."

"So what was the point of you going through college when you're guaranteed a job like that anyways?" he asked next.

Dick shot him a look across the table. It was one thing to respond to your whining, but picking a fight was another. He could see the question pricked at a real insecurity of yours. You bristled and tried not to let the weakness show itself.

"Because," you huffed, "I'm still supposed to know things and have skills of my own. And we're not like the Kennedys or something. I can't get by on my last name forever."

"Right..." he said and redirected his focus to shoveling some more food into his mouth.

Again, Dick took it upon himself to resuscitate the mood. He chatted with you some more about school and potential areas you were interested in for your future.

As things wrapped up and the three of you cleared the table, he finished by offering to take you on that shopping trip you'd been asking about earlier tomorrow. That seemed to be all it took to fully brighten up your mood. You eagerly accepted before heading off to your room for the night.

After you'd left, the room clouded with silence for a minute. The two of them migrated over to the living room. Both him and Jason took a moment to enjoy the peace that plumed up in your absence. It dissipated when Dick decided to speak again.

"You know, part of the reason she gets snippy with you is because you're not exactly pleasant to her," he started.

"No, she doesn't like me because I won't play into her flirty bullshit like you do," Jason replied and shrugged.

"It's more than that. You dismiss almost anything she says, and you try to provoke her into lashing out at you."

"Like she doesn't do the same to me? All that whiny, pouty shit she does for you, she tried for me at first, but I hurt her feelings because I didn't act like it was cute. It's pathetic"

"Alright, but as the professional, you're supposed to keep the appearance that she doesn't bother you. I'm just saying you could try playing it cool around her," Dick suggested.

Jason glared at him. "I wasn't hired to be nice to her."

"You're not getting paid to be an asshole either."

The harsh look deepened in the other man's green eyes. "What are we getting paid to do here exactly? She's not in any actual danger."

So that was his problem.

Dick sighed, but before he could provide some form of justification, Jason was pulling up your case files on his phone. He turned the screen to Dick.

"Look. Read it. Why'd we even accept this bullshit? He basically admits there's no real threat in the request," he said.

Dick took the small device and scanned over the document with his eyes. He didn't have to read it to know why they accepted it, of course. The money was great and the connections they could gain from it would be even better for the firm. He still skimmed the tiny words staring back at him though. The request for protection that asked you be assigned a full time guard in the potential event of political retaliation. Political retaliation that both sides of this arrangement knew was not coming. Your father had won his race by a comfortable margin. No one even attempted to contest the result. All of his positions were uncontroversial as well.

It was obvious to Dick that he and Jason were simple pawns in a power struggle here. They were the expendable pieces your father could tote around and punish you with for whatever reason. Maybe you'd been too outspoken about something. Maybe you had a tendency to get too wild when you went out. Maybe you'd just outsmarted the last move in this lifelong game of chess.

Whatever it had been, this was just the next subtle method of control. He'd seen it before in rich kids like you. Shitty as it was, it was part of this business.

Handing the phone back to the other man, he answered. "You know why we took it. And I know it's frustrating, but not every case is gonna be something out of an action movie. If he wants to pay for someone to ease his mind, then that's just how it is."

"He hired a babysitter for an adult," Jason spat with disdain, "That's all this is. The only thing I'm protecting her from is maxing out daddy's credit card or taking a laced bump at some shitty party."

"There are worse jobs in the world than watching over a pretty girl, Jason," Dick said and rubbed his eyes.

"Oh bullshit. This isn't just watching a pretty girl. This is listening to her run her fucking mouth. It's putting up with her bitching and moaning in my ear 24/7 about how she doesn't want me here."

"Look. It's not that hard to figure out," he interjected, "She was spoiled rotten growing up, but that also means she probably had a lot of people trying to control her life. She's getting her first real taste of freedom being out of college and living on her own, and then her dad takes it away by hiring us. Can you blame her for being a little pissy about it?"

"So what? Poor little rich girl. She has people who want to be involved with her life and make sure she has a future," he scoffed, "If she doesn't like that, she can take it out on her dad. Why do we have to deal with the fallout?"

"I know it's not what you want to be dealing with, but you're smart enough to know that things aren't that simple," he responded, "Everything in this place - the clothes she wears, the furniture we're sitting on, I'd bet even her phone she carries around - doesn't belong to her. None of it comes from her own money. Maybe her name's on the title of this place, but you know it's not really hers. She probably plays nice and puts up with things that don't really bug her to make sure he doesn't start taking it all away or offering to give it to her in the first place."

Jason still wouldn't drop his scowl. He understood Dick was right, but you were so goddamn irritating, he didn't want to admit you deserved even the smallest degree of grace.

"You don't have to act like a boyfriend or even her best friend," Dick offered as a compromise, "All I'm saying is that if you weren't so aggressive from the jump, she might feel more inclined to listen to you."

"She's a grown woman," Jason grumbled with hushed incredulity, "I shouldn't have to handle her like a little girl or a puppy or something."

"You're right. You shouldn't have to. But it's the way it is, so adapt or drive yourself crazy. It's your choice," he said.

"I guess," he huffed before slumping back in his seat a bit.

Dick relaxed back against the couch as well. Looking at Jason now, he couldn't help but think that part of the reason the two of you butted heads at every opportunity was because you both were in the running for the most headstrong person he'd ever met.

The next day, Dick made good on his promise to take you shopping. The two of you drove to an upscale mall and spent the next few hours roaming the wide corridors. He stayed close to your side, his muscular arms covered in the bands of your shopping bags as you led him from one place to the next. You talked his ear off, but he didn't mind. It was better than lounging around the penthouse and listening to you and Jason bicker. 

And in your defense, while you had him carrying all your stuff, you took plenty of chances to offer to buy him a few things. Anything his eyes lingered on for more than two seconds had you playfully waving around your card. Each time he'd decline. He had to keep some appearance of doing his job. Jason would never let him hear the end of it if he thought he indulged in this shopping spree too.

He was still somewhat playing his part though. His eyes scanned the exits and entries (when they weren't lingering on how your lip gloss shimmered on the soft curves of your mouth). He was focused on making sure no suspicious characters tried approaching you (when he wasn't ogling the way your t-shirt stretched across the swell of your chest). 

"So only one last place, right?" he checked while you typed away on your phone.

"Yup!" you chirped.

You trotted along a few more paces before coming to a stop in front of a store entryway framed by two dark, tile pillars. The words above glowed in a light, classic font. He eyed it and then shifted his gaze to the display windows. That was when he realized this was a store for lingerie.

He let out a laugh and shook his head. "Really?" he said, raising his brows at you.

"What?" you asked, "Don't tell me you're one of those guys that gets all weird about bras and panties. What do you think I'm wearing under this?"

"I don't really think it's my place to be imagining that," he chuckled.

"Well you don't gotta imagine right now. Just stay close to me while I pick some things out," you replied with your own little smile.

Unlike Jason, this wouldn't be a hill he died on. He followed you into the store and remained quiet within a few feet of you while you checked over the stands for items you liked. You seemed pretty picky when it came to this stuff. Your face contorted into contemplative expressions, weighing if you should go with the lacy black or the baby pink.

"So... do you actually have someone to wear these for or...?" he asked while trying to seem aloof.

"I wear them because I like them," you corrected while shooting him a playful glare, "But to answer your question, not yet."

"Ah, yet," he grinned.

"Mhm. It doesn't hurt to be prepared," you said.

He huffed out a small laugh and kept in line with your footsteps. After a while, you selected a few pairs and seemed almost ready to go. You weaved through the array of perfume stands and seasonal racks. On the way to the register though, your eyes caught on a pair of silk pajamas. They were dainty, thin, and striped. Just the kind of thing that looked as though it was sewn specifically for your closet.

"Oh my gosh. Dick, can you hold this?" you said. The question was pointless as you'd already shoved the basket of panties into his arms before the words finished leaving your lips.

You pranced to the display with the sleepwear and looked it over with adoring eyes. With a wave of your hand, you summoned a nearby attendant to ask for a set you could try on.

Moments later the worker guided the two of you towards the back of the store, showing you the changing area. It was nicer than most shops. A large mirror sat on the wall that was covered in floral paper. Next to it a small door concealed the private fitting section, and in the center was a couple seats.

The woman waved you in. She glanced over each of you with a tight-lipped smile before adding that "your boyfriend" was welcome to wait inside for you.

He opened his mouth to amend her definition of him, but before he got the chance, you chimed in with a cheerful "thank you!"

His eyes zipped from the exiting staff member to you. Upon looking in your eyes, he could see your amusement dancing there. You grabbed his free hand and led him to the plush couches. Then you took off with the pajamas in your hands into the private part of the room.

"So boyfriend, huh? Is that my title now?" he called to you through the open space above the door. While you changed, he set the endless supply of bags down on the loveseat across from the one he chose to sit down on.

"It could be," you replied, "Isn't it like safer if bad guys think a girl has a boyfriend?"

He'd dealt with clients flirting with him before, but never one as flagrant as you. Only one day with you, and he could tell you'd never experienced true shame in your two decades and some spare years of life.

"Yeah, I think so," he chuckled in return. Even though your confidence humored him, he couldn't deny the part of him that was flattered. The same part that got turned on.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you strutted out. Your luscious legs stretched out from the tiny shorts that bedizened your hips. The button-up top hung off your shoulders and framed the curves of your waist. With a few steps, you stood in front of him, as if you were a model in a fashion show organized personally for him.

"Exactly. So, how do I look, darling?" you teased, doing a little spin for him.

He reached out and grabbed your hips. His fingers dug into your skin, feeling your flesh squish beneath the pads of his digits. Your eyes connected with his as he dragged them up from your waist to your face.

"Stunning, sweetheart," he played right along.

A small giggle trickled from your lips before you turned to the side to assess your appearance in the mirror. He kept his grip on you. Both his and your eyes glided over your frame, lingering on his hands clasped around the bottoms.

"I'll have to get them then," you decided after a few moments.

His pupils shifted up, sparkling under the fluorescents on the ceiling. "I think that's a great choice. Though when you wear them later, you may want to fix the pocket," he said.

Trailing his right hand up from its post on your hip, his fingers coasted over your breast to the shirt pocket that was flipped slightly inside out. He pushed the material back into place, delving two digits beneath the silk flap. The tips teased the curve of your breast. They dragged on the skin just above your nipple through the cloth.

Fortunately for you, he pulled them out seconds later, allowing you to step back and hide the way the small bud had begun to pebble for him. The smirk on his face hinted that he still knew though.

"Ok, well I'm gonna change back. Then we can check out and go home. Maybe we could get some food on the way back or something," you said, laying out the plan as a distraction for the blooming heat you felt in your abdomen.

"Yeah, sounds good," he responded and shrugged.

He watched as you capered back behind that door. You were a tease through and through, and that couldn't have pleased him more. It's what made this all so easy. You could flirt and bat your eyelashes and speak in that seductively innocuous tone, but when you caught scent of any real arousal, you pulled back quicker than a skittish dog. 

It could make it easier for him to remain professional. A way of keeping him from crossing the line that was supposed to divide him and all clients. But it also made you so much more tempting. An elusive prey animal just begging to be caught.

The rest of that day followed the plan you had set in the dressing room.

You checked out of that last store then had Dick carry your collection of purchases to the car. The two of you picked up some food on the way home. Despite your lavish taste in just about everything else, when it came to dinner, you were a pretty cheap date.

When you made it back to the penthouse, Dick shoulders the weight of everything you bought again. The two of you don't bother asking Jason for help, knowing it would only cause more drama. Instead, he let the thin handles on the bags of clothes and jewelry and trinkets dig into his skin and nearly cut off his circulation.

Besides that though, everything went fine. Jason gave you both a look of disdain when he saw the evidence of your shopping trip, but he didn't comment. 

Maybe he was taking Dick's advice.

That seemed to be the case even as you came trotting down the stairs not too long later. You'd changed into your new silk set. The fabric didn't leave anything to the imagination in terms of your figure and that was what it did cover. Most of your legs and a sliver of your chest remained exposed to any eyes that should wander by.

You had a little smile on your face as you entered the room. Of course, you knew how you looked. You were bratty, not stupid.

Upon spotting Jason in the kitchen, you headed in that direction. He'd been standing in the corner where the counters met, eating something for a few moments. The calmness of solitude that had previously filled the space dissolved when he caught sight of you.

As much as he couldn't stand you, Jason was still human. His brows raised and his eyes stuck to your scantily-clad body, raking over your curves and smooth skin. You watched with absolute joy as he finally acknowledged you in some way other than a nuisance.

It only took him a few seconds to catch himself, but the damage had been done. You bounded over to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen from him. He kept his eyes down now, intent on trying not to gauge if you were wearing a bra under that skimpy thing by how your breasts bounced.

"So Jason... What did you do while me and Dick were out?" you asked.

"Desperately awaited your return," he grumbled sarcastically.

The question obviously meant nothing to you. He could hear it in every syllable. It served as a placeholder. A plausible reason you could linger around him to flaunt yourself.

His response brought a laugh out of you in spite of the backhanded nature of the statement. "You could've come with us. It probably would've been more fun," you smiled.

"For you maybe."

"Well yeah for me," you said. You pushed off the island and stepped a few paces closer to him. "What do you think of my clothes? They're new. Dick said he liked them."

You did a small twirl like you had in the dressing room. An attempt to lure Jason's gaze back onto you. He didn't take the bait so easily though and locked his gaze on the food he'd been snacking on.

"If you got Dick's opinion, then why do you need mine?" he shot back.

"Cause I want it," you answered.

With a deep breath, he brought his eyes back to you. He could control himself, both his temper and other kinds of impulses. Plus, there was no way he was going to let you win. You had enough smugness in your voice as it was. No way was he gonna make the problem worse by letting you feel as though you had him intimidated.

"Looks the same as the ones you normally wear," he shrugged.

"Yeah, but I didn't ask that. I just wanna know if you like them."

"Why? Are you gonna throw a fit or something if I say no? Call daddy and have him hire someone with better taste to babysit you?" he mocked.

That put a scowl on your face, which made him smile. The two of you worked like a seesaw of emotions, one extreme on each side, animosity shifting so rapidly the bar could never rest at a balanced middle.

"No," you scoffed with a glare, "I was just trying to be nice to you-"

"Oh really? It felt more like you were fishing for compliments to me," he said, "You bought the clothes, so obviously you like them. Why do you need me validating your choice?"

God, this felt so much better than getting worked up over you. Watching your face morph into increasingly petulant expressions gave Jason more joy than imagining the day a month from now when this job would finally be done.

"Whatever," you huffed and rolled your eyes before retreating to the living room to be with Dick.

That was fine with him. He didn't cause a blow up or have to deal with Dick's lecture while simultaneously getting you out of his immediate vicinity. Though, that was probably for the best for reasons other than his anger too. 

He would never ever admit it out loud, especially not after the point he'd made about it last night, but seeing you in that tiny get up, all desperate for his approval... it had him craving some alone time to quell the heat he felt beginning to simmer within.

He cleaned up his plate that was now empty and then ran a hand through his hair. His eyes shut for a moment, and he let out a sigh. After a few moments, he decided he didn't need to shove down the feelings. He'd been pent up enough over the last week. Nonstop hours of you trying to get under his skin and make him snap. It left him yearning for some outlet, for some relief. Maybe that was why he was so pissed off all the time.

Right now, Dick was with you. The chances of you wandering up to his room to bother him were slim. He could sneak off for a while, spend some quality time with his right hand and chill the fuck out.

So that's what he did. He headed off upstairs and shut the door to his room.

Now you sat beside Dick on the couch as an old movie played on the tv. You were so close to him that your bare thighs rested against the grey cotton of his sweatpants.

It wasn't that late, but only a third of the way into the movie you felt yourself sinking into the cushions behind you, tiredness overtaking your body. Your eyes grew droopy and glazed as you tried watching the action playing out in front of you.

A few minutes later, you started to accept this might be a pointless effort. In your defense, shopping was a tiring activity! Malls were big and required lots of steps to get through. When you combined that with doing all the spending math in your head, talking to Dick, and trying things on, it made sense that you were beat.

You let your head slump over and hit his shoulder. Your temple thudded against the curve of it as a yawn made its way out of you. You brought your legs closer to your body and wrapped one of your hands around his bicep as well. If you were gonna go for an inch, why not take the whole mile?

His head swiveled in your direction when he felt the gentle contact. He didn't protest like you knew Jason would have though. Rather, he let you grip onto his muscular arm and rest against his broad frame before bringing his free hand over to smooth down the nape of your neck.

"Are we still playing boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked.

Your eyes fluttered open as you tilted your face up to look at him. After a moment's thought, you bobbed your head in a lazy nod.

Upon seeing your confirmation, a lascivious smile spread across his lips. He leaned back further into the couch himself and stretched his legs out onto the extended part of the sectional. Once he was adjusted, he pulled his arm free of your grasp. You showed slight dismay at first, displeased with the loss of support and heat. Though it quickly evaporated as he draped it over your shoulders and pulled you into his chest.

"Well if I was your boyfriend," he said, drawing out the syllables pointedly, "I think we'd be sitting like this."

Even in your tired condition, you felt a bit flustered. You wouldn't show that though. It would take more to get you to willingly show how he affected you. You snuggle into his sculpted side and nestle your face against his chest. Below his skin, you hear the faint but steady beat of his heart.

"You're probably right," you mumbled against the fabric of his t-shirt, "It's comfier like this."

"Mhm. Safer too," he teased.

You nodded, not needing words this time around. One of your arms encircled his waist to keep you snug against him while you continued to watch the movie. 

It was honestly a miracle in your own eyes that you hadn't passed out yet in the few seconds you'd been sitting like this. He was so warm, and he smelled so good, like fresh laundry. And now his hand had started rubbing up and down your back. The steady rhythm of his palm and the perfect amount of pressure seemed like it would be lulling you into unconsciousness in minutes.

But then he spoke again.

"And if I was your boyfriend, we'd be doing a lot more than just watching this movie," he whispered.

The words hit your ears in soft puffs of air, sending chills down your spine. You bit your lip and willed your eyes to open wider before looking at him again.

"What else would we be doing?" you asked.

"What do you think? With you sitting here, all cute in your little outfit..." he began, lowering his mouth to your neck. A soft gasp left you as he began laying kisses up your throat to your ear. His teeth scraped over your earlobe before his tongue grazed the skin behind it. "I think I'd have a pretty hard time keeping my hands to myself," he finished lowly.

The skin of your shoulders prickled beneath the satiny material of your top and continued to do so down your arms and legs. You weren't completely inexperienced, but you'd never had such intense attention focused on you. You'd never felt like the center of someone's entire world like you did right now.

Your hand lands on his thigh, gripping the meat of it with your fingers. You turn your head into a brief kiss before pulling back an inch.

"If you were my boyfriend, you wouldn't have to keep your hands to yourself," you murmured.

And that was the last thing he needed to hear.

He dove in and kissed you like it was the millionth time. His lips moved against your own sensually before his tongue found its way into your mouth. A tender moan slipped out of you in response. He played the part of your boyfriend better than any actual candidate for the role before him.

Your palm migrated up from his thigh to his lap. With a few delicate swipes, you coaxed a bulge into rising against the fabric of his pants. Your hand then fled the area and trailed up his abs onto his chest. Every inch of him felt as though it had been crafted by divine beings. A gift for anyone who should have the pleasure of experiencing him.

He tugged you closer, guiding you so close that you were all but in his lap. His right hand groped the dough of your ass while his left crept onto your breast and gave it the squeeze he had wanted to earlier in the changing room.

You squeaked like a chew toy in response, which drew a laugh out of him. He teased the mound again by kneading it a few more times. His fingers dragged across the soft curves before zeroing in on your nipple, tweaking and pulling at the sensitive little nub. That brought some whines out of you.

"My little girlfriend's so responsive," he whispered. 

He knew he was acting like an idiot right now. He wasn't just crossing every client-contractor line in the book, he was practically leaping over them with joy. If Jason came down here and saw this opening to a porno playing out on the couch, he would never hear the end of it. But he just couldn't stop now. The way you arched into his touch was fucking intoxicating. You had him hooked, and he hadn't gotten farther than feeling up your tits.

And then you whimpered and nipped at his bottom lip. It wasn't like you could really defend yourself from his words. Every touch had you keening for more.

He hummed at the mini bite before pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. The arm wrapped around your back continued to support you while the set of fingers that had been playing with your chest fell towards the junction of your thighs. You seemed a little nervous at the start of the descent, but by the time his hand made it there, your legs spread open for him with no hesitation.

Both of your harsh breaths drowned out the sounds from the movie that had been long forgotten by now. And then your soft, sweet moans joined them.

He started out with a few loving caresses over your center. A few pets to get you warmed up. It was all you needed to let out those cute little noises. You rolled your hips at his hand, already signaling your need for more.

Without a second thought, he obliged you. His hand slid beneath your waistband and into your panties before his fingers slotted between your lips, finding your clit with expertise. They danced over your bundle of nerves and pressed down on it. More whines trickled from your mouth. He could only hope his lips on yours did a sufficient job of muffling them.

"That's it, sweetheart," he crooned, "You're so cute. Not worried about anything but feeling good."

You bucked your hips without a care in the world now, just like he said. They rocked up into the friction his digits were providing. Wet sloshing sounds emanated from where his hand moved beneath your shorts.

After a little while longer of just touching, he worked a finger inside of you. Then another. He pumped them in and out, relishing each precious mewl that erupted from you in turn. His digits curled. Each stroke inside you brushed a tender spot that made your thighs quiver and jerk.

"Fuck," you inhaled sharply before reaching forward to try palming at him, a haphazard attempt at returning the favor.

His free hand brushed yours away though. Those cerulean eyes glimmered with cockiness.

"I can take care of myself, baby. I'm being paid to service you, remember?" he purred.

Your eyes rolled back, and your head followed in that direction, hitting the backing of the couch. You weakly nodded before allowing the pleasurable sensations to cloud your head. He just kept thrusting his two fingers in and out while his palm ground against your clit.

You vaguely felt him start to grind his hips against the side of your leg. He used the pressure as stimulation, giving himself some muted relief while tending to you.

In the throes of bliss, you hadn't realized how close you were until the edge was right there. You whined and squirmed, trying to alert him that you were a few skillful pumps away from unraveling.

"Dick... gonna..." you whimpered.

"Yeah, I can tell. You're getting nice and tight," he murmured.

You nodded. Your lip started to jut out, those pouty habits making themselves known in the heat of the moment. He grinned before kissing it away.

"Let go, baby. Soak through your new shorts. Get 'em all messy for me," he cooed.

Your walls clenched around his fingers as your toes curled. It was impossible to resist the urge to release when he was guiding you to it like that. Your whole body tensed up and then relaxed over and over, the highs of pleasure washing over you in waves.

He watched every little move you make, drank it all up like a dehydrated man in the middle of the Sahara.

"You look so pretty while you cum," he praised. You heard him say the words; though, they sounded distant amidst the haze of bliss surrounding you.

When you finished, he could tell you were exhausted. Your eyelids drooped as if keeping them open was an impossible task. You laid there limp beside him, just about ready to melt into the couch.

He chuckled and slipped his hand from your shorts. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he sucked them clean and then ducked in for one last kiss. You squeaked in surprise but didn't pull away. He let you taste yourself for a moment before retreating.

Even though he hadn't cum himself, he figured it would be fine for tonight. There were four weeks left of this job after all. He'd have more time with you. Tonight he could deal with finishing himself off in his room after taking you to bed.

He shut the tv off and then scooped you up. Your body draped between his two arms. You didn't complain or protest; rather, just leaned your head into his shoulder and accepted the aid. He walked with you up the stairs, down the walkway to your bedroom. The last door on the path.

Nudging the door open with his foot, he crossed the threshold into your space. It appeared like the rest of the apartment, just more concentrated. A more pure embodiment of you. All the other parts of this place he'd seen had traces of your personality throughout, but each and every part of this room represented a piece of you.

He didn't spend any time snooping around or getting a better look. Like the perfect gentleman, he placed you in bed, draped a blanket over your body, and made sure you were situated. Then he retraced his steps back out into the hall. He headed down to the guest room and slipped inside, planning on taking care of himself and then passing out for the night.

The next morning, Dick woke to a thudding on the wall behind his headboard. Knock. Knock. Knock. The noises pounded against the barrier in an even-rhythm, every second or so. He wasn't sure how long they'd been going on by the time he reached full consciousness. They'd invaded the last part of his dream, so he assumed maybe a few minutes.

Even though the sounds should probably concern him, all he felt was annoyance. The wall behind his bed was the one connected to Jason's. He figured the noises were a result of him working out or moving some things around. Maybe you two had gotten into another argument and he was packing his things in anger.

Dick dragged himself out of bed and stretched. He'd slept longer than usual last night. A lazy smile rose to his face as details came flooding back to him. How you'd felt around his fingers and whined for him to keep pleasuring you.

Once he'd figured out what the noise was about, maybe he'd head over to your room, see if you were up yet. It'd been less than twelve hours, but he was already craving another taste of you.

He stepped out into the hallway, walking in the direction of the room the noise was coming from. As he got closer, he could hear some grunting too. It sounded pretty intense. Either Jason was working out really hard or you'd really pissed him off. Maybe a combination of both.

"Hey, Jason. Some of us are trying to sleep. You don't need to compete with the construction crews around the rest of the city with all this-" he started to call out, but the words died in his throat as soon as he saw the source of the banging.

He felt like a flash grenade had gone off in the room he was looking into. The source of the loud sounds was no longer a mystery. It was coming from Jason's headboard slamming into the wall. The headboard was doing that because the man in question was kneeling on the bed with you pinned down in front of him, fucking you like he was an animal in heat. Dick saw your body jerk in panic as soon as you heard the sound of his voice close in.

"Jesus, man!" Dick said and spun away from the explicit sight before him. His mind reeled and tried to grasp onto what he just witnessed.

As he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he just saw Jason balls deep inside you, he also realized that the lewd noises weren't stopping. He slowly turned back to get another glance - just a curious one, he told himself.

His eyes found the two of you again. Jason kneeled on the edge of the bed. One of his large hands gripped your hip while the other held your face down against the pillows. Now that Dick was really listening, he could hear your little muffled whines and squeaks.

Jason's body glowed, flush from arousal and shimmering with a sheen of sweat. Your limbs were folded up like pieces of a portable chair. Dick tried not to focus on the flicker of heat in his gut, and instead, think about how even with another set of eyes, neither of you had stopped going at it. In your defense, he didn't think the decision was up to you. Jason had manhandled you into a position that gave him all the leverage.

Finally after another second or two, the other man looked his way.

"You need something, Dick?" Jason grunted as though he'd been interrupted while reading a book rather than pounding you into the mattress.

He blinked at him. "What are you doing?"

"Do you really have to ask that? You're not a prude, and you're far from innocent," he mocked. His voice was breathless as though he found some deep satisfaction in this act. Dick believed that. He'd felt how soft and tight your cunt was last night, warm enough to melt even someone as tough as Jason down a bit.

"I'm not a prude, but you could at least shut the door," he responded. The absurdity of this situation then began to dawn on him. He stepped closer to the bed. "Really, Jason. What the fuck are you doing? She's a client," he finally said.

That brought a laugh out of the younger man. "Client, huh? That's not what I was hearing last night when you had her out on the couch."

Dick tensed in the face of the accusation. Shit. He'd thought the two of you had been quiet enough. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

"That's different..." he defended weakly.

In reality, he of course knew that it wasn't. Him fooling around with you last night was, on a technical level, no different from what Jason was doing now. Either one if found out by your father, their employer, would get them fired and possibly slapped with a lawsuit.

But he did feel it was honestly different on some level. He'd just been playing with you. Going along with your flirting. Having some fun. Jason was fucking you. Every thrust was like an act of revenge for all the pouting and whining and huffy glares. He bullied his cock deep into your cunt with every swing of his hips. Your body jolted from his momentum, your fingers curled around the edges of the pillow. It was intense and raw.

"It is not," Jason denied, "Plus, I thought you'd be happy. We're not arguing anymore. You wanted me to act cool with her? Well she thinks this is pretty fuckin' cool. Don't you, princess?"

Before you could mumble something against the satiny linens below you, he looped an arm around your neck and pulled you up against him. You squealed at the sharp angle this new position put you at. Your eyes rolled back, and the only sounds that came from your lips immediately were hazy babbles.

You eventually collected yourself enough to nod. He laughed in your ear, slotting his face right next to yours. You could feel his breaths against your cheek, his sweat smearing on your skin.

"Use your words, sweetheart," he purred.

A shudder coursed its way through you. Your dazed eyes opened just enough to connect with Dick's bright blue ones. You didn't know what to say, so you let out the easiest thing you could think of.

"F-feels good..."

Dick nearly winced at the fucked-out sound of your voice. It was sultry and slurred. If you weren't so disgustingly rich, he was sure you'd make a killing doing this stuff on camera.

His eyes scraped over the shape Jason had you propped in now. Your body was arched like a bow, tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. He had your arms hooked over one of his behind your back while his other was wrapped around your throat. Your chin rested on the thick muscles there. Saliva spilled from your mouth while the beginnings of tears pricked at your eyes.

Everything about it was turning him on, but he tried to disguise that fact. He shifted where he stood in an attempt to readjust himself and not let his cock fill out. But then his eyes caught on the slight bulge in your stomach. The faint outline that protruded in rhythm with the man behind you thrusting.

He almost came on the spot. A groan worked its way up his throat, and he ran a hand over his face into his messy hair.

Jason huffed out a laugh at the noise. "You should've seen her. She came in here trying to pick a fight. Probably a warm up before she scampered off to your room to get you to relieve her frustration."

"Nuh uh," you whimpered pitifully.

In response, he released your arms and shoved you down onto the mattress again. You whined at the force he put into slamming your face against the blankets. His hips rutted into you even harder too, clearing any further words of denial from your mind.

"I wasn't asking," he chided. He gave your ass a firm slap before holding onto your hips. 

You mewled and clawed at the soft bedding.

"Maybe you are being honest though. Maybe you didn't plan on getting Dick to help you out. You probably knew he couldn't give it to you like you needed," he said. His green eyes flitted up to the man standing beside the bed, letting him know it was an open challenge.

Dick knew he shouldn't take the bait. This was weird enough as it was, standing there and watching the two of you fuck. But wouldn't it be weirder not getting involved? If he just left, he'd still be half-hard. He'd probably skulk off back to his room to jerk off, and that would be more pathetic than whatever he was about to agree to.

"Sure, Jason. If that's what you have to tell yourself," he mocked, "She knows how good I can make her feel. She just knows that you're easier."

Jason’s usual scowl appears on his face. "You cracked first. Gave into her and acted all sweet," he grumbled.

"Yeah, but look at you. She didn't have to work at all to get you to fuck her," he taunted, "I'm sure she'll be so tempted to not act out anymore when this is how you deal with it."

He closed the gap between himself and the bed, reaching for your face. He cupped your jaw and tilted your head upwards to face him. Swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, he smirked at the cute, pouty look on your face.

Jason growled and tugged you back. His hips clapped against your ass. You whined in a mixture of pleasure and pain, screwing your eyes shut. He leaned over your body like a dog guarding its favorite toy while continuing to pound into you.

"You know I'm right," Dick said, "You're so rough because you know you have to compensate."

Now Jason was actually getting a little pissy. He was the one who made this competitive, but it didn't take much to trigger his temper.

He let go of your body and pulled out. "You think you can do better? Go ahead then," he said, gesturing to your twitching form. You whined at the emptiness you now felt, but it did nothing to change his mind. He gave you a quick swat between your legs, ripping a cry from you. 

"No whining, little brat," he said, "Not when you're getting so much attention. More than you deserve."

Dick watched with interest before connecting his stare with the other man's.

"You just want me to what? Strip down and fuck her?" he asked.

"Why not? Don't act like you don't want to. I can see the tent in your pants," he responded.

Looking down, he knew he was right. The front of his sweats had puffed out with his desire. He didn't bother feeling embarrassed about it right now though. Jason was shameless as could be, so why should he try to keep up an appearance of modesty?

He shrugged and began peeling off his t-shirt before pushing his pants and boxers to the floor. Both pieces crumple up next to his feet as his cock comes into view. He gives it a few lazy strokes while reaching for you.

You glanced up at him, your pupils dilating upon seeing his length. It was slightly skinnier than Jason's but just as long. Your mouth watered for a taste. He chuckled, your admiration stroking his ego.

"Come here, baby," he cooed, much more gentle than Jason.

The sound of his voice revived you from your fucked out state, and you were happy to be guided into his arms. He sat against the headboard and took you onto his lap. Pressing a few kisses to your lips, he ran his fingers down your jawline.

He knew he wouldn't have to do anything to get you ready. You were already dripping onto his thighs from the mess Jason left between your legs. He shifted you around by your waist, laying you back against his chest. The both of you faced Jason who sat at the end of the bed.

"You think you can ride for me?" he murmured against the shell of your ear.

Your legs were wobbly and your mind still felt a little cloudy from the euphoria Jason pumped into your veins, but you nodded anyways, not wanting to disappoint Dick.

He rewarded you with a grin and pecked your temple. "Such a good girl. Gonna show him how sweet you can be when you're treated right, huh?"

Again, you nodded, but he also caught Jason rolling his eyes.

You rose onto your feet and positioned yourself above his lap. He helped you out a little, lining his shaft up at your entrance and sliding it through your slick.

Slowly, you began sinking down on him. He couldn't help the choked moan that slipped out of his mouth. "Fuck, you're tight," he rasped.

You didn't let up, lowering yourself all the way down in one go. Your ass rested against his pelvis, and he gave you a few moments to adjust. Hell, he needed them too to catch his breath. He couldn't cum too quickly right now. Not with Jason watching. He'd never hear the end of it.

But eventually you do start to bounce. His hands hold onto the little divots in your side to help you keep balance. Your warm slippery walls squeeze around him with each of your movements.

More whiny sounds seep from your lips. They were higher-pitched than last night. Less drawn out and delirious. Each time you took him all the way, your hips jerked. He reached around, swirling his fingers over your clit.

"So sensitive," he teased.

You whimpered and continued to bounce yourself in haphazard bursts. Your pussy gushed for him, your juices dripping down to his balls. By the time you finished, there would be a wet patch for sure.

He tilted his head back against the headboard, just letting himself feel for a moment. Meanwhile, your eyes meet Jason's. He had a fist wrapped around his cock. He kept his strokes slow, as if trying to hide the fact that he was doing it at all.

"Feeling good?" he asked, but you know it was intended to mock you, "You like sweet and gentle? Better than how I do it?"

Before you could answer, Dick slammed you down on his cock. Your eyes fluttered, and you loosened up, allowing him to take over in lifting you up and down on his shaft.

"If you're asking, that means you know you're losing," Dick chimed in a sing-song voice.

That just spiked Jason’s blood pressure. He stood up. "My turn again," he demanded.

Dick openly laughed in his face while continuing to pump you like a fleshlight. "No," he said.

"Yeah. You've had your turn, now it's mine. Give her back," he said. He was getting more agitated because he realized how petulant he sounded.

It only brought more laughter from Dick. "Give her back? What is she? Your favorite doll or something?" he taunted, "It doesn't really seem like she wants to go back to you. I think I'll keep her here till she finishes."

"You're the one who interrupted."

"You're the one who practically invited me to."

"I don't care. You had enough time, now it's my turn to show you. I'll get her at fucking gunpoint if I have to."

Both of them knew he was just blowing off steam. When Jason got mad, he would say things like that without thinking twice. But you'd never heard his voice so gruff, dripping with the potential for violence. When he got pissed at you, he was annoyed and agitated. Frustrated more than anything else. This was something else, and it turned you on.

You clenched around Dick's cock and let out a shaky whine. They simultaneously dropped their bickering and looked at you. Dick slowed the pace as he eyed you, but Jason's lips curved upward. 

"Oh you like that idea?" he chuckled, "Thought you were afraid of guns, princess?"

"I- I am," you said, trying to backtrack.

His dark locks swayed from side to side as he shook his head. The moment he headed towards the nightstand Dick knew what he was doing.

"Jason-" he started, but his gun was already in his hand. The dark pistol pointed towards you.

"Come here," he said.

Your eyes widened, thighs quivering as Dick stopped moving you and let you slide off of him. He watched as his cock slid out of you, still coated in your arousal. You crawled forward towards the man pointing the gun at you.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair when you were close enough and dragged you the rest of the way. His cock kicked at the yelp you let out.

"That's a good girl. You know to come when you're called," he praised.

You whimpered in response, looking up at him with wide, puppy-eyes. He didn't soften in the slightest though. Scooping you from behind, he dumped you onto your back.

"Spread your legs for me nice and wide," he directed. You clasped your own legs behind the knee and made sure there was ample room for him to get at your center.

The gun remained aimed at you. It kept your heart pumping so hard you could hear it in your ears. A sick combination of fear and lust ran through your limbs. Jason didn't mind the shakiness though. With his free hand, he guided his thick cock back to your entrance and slid right in.

"Fuck, you take it so well for such a prissy little thing," he growled.

He didn't give you the adjustment period like Dick had. Instead, he pushed all the way in and then dragged his hips back before slamming in again. You mewled at the stretch. The sweet burn of him splitting your cunt open.

"Jason..." Dick said again in the tone of a parent about to count to three.

Jason didn't drop it though. He leaned forward, pressing the cool metal barrel against your shoulder and folding you in half under his bulky frame. He was so deep inside you that you couldn't really say he was thrusting anymore. Just grinding his hips. Deep, even rolls. Those tears that had been teasing you before leaked out freely now. You hiccuped out a broken sob as he continued fucking you within an inch of your life.

"She's fine," he grunted, trying to suppress a moan of his own, "Fuck... you know I'm careful."

It was true. Dick didn't actually believe Jason would shoot you, but still, this felt like the exact opposite of what they were supposed to be doing. This was probably the most danger you'd been in over the course of your entire life. It was definitely the first time you'd had a gun aimed at you.

Heat sweltered between you and Jason, making it almost impossible to breathe. Your head lolled back in search of some relief. Some semblance of breathing room. But he was just all around you. Every part of your body felt under his control.

Your vision went spotty for a moment, but when you came back, you saw Dick's face above yours. Jason had leaned back a bit, allowing you to cool down. His hips maintained a steady rhythm though. 

The older man stared down at you, stroking your cheek gently. He swiped your tears away with your thumb. His palms kept your head cradled as if you were the most precious, fragile thing in the world. It just made you cry more.

"You're so pretty crying like that," he crooned. His knuckles swept over your heated skin. "Such a sweet girl. Not used to getting it so rough."

"She'll be used to it by the time the month is over," Jason said. He put the gun aside now, using both hands to hold onto you.

Dick rolled his eyes and continued showering you with soft words and tender touches. It was like each half of your body was in a separate world.

You could tell Jason was close by the way his thrusts were becoming more sporadic. His breaths puffed out in harsh pants while his fingers gripped you tight enough to bruise. Luckily, you were getting there too.

The only one left behind was Dick, but he wasn't worried. He had the patience for you.

Jason thumbed your clit, dragging you the rest of the way to the finish line. You came with a scream so loud that both of them were thankful the penthouse suite meant no neighbors to hear you. Your body quivered and convulsed. You sobbed out cries for both of them. Your hands flew to Dick's wrist to hold onto something.

Jason kept pumping into you for a few moments more, but you were tight as a vise. He knew he was about to cum, and he knew he should pull out. But as he was going to, you locked your shaky legs around him and shook your head.

"I'm-" you tried before cutting yourself off with a whimper, "I'm on the pill."

In that moment, it was like he heard an angel speak to him. He slammed into you as hard as he could and collapsed onto your body. His larger chest crushed you against the bed, his face nuzzling into your neck as he spilled himself inside you. You swore you heard him whine, but it was hard to tell with everything going on.

He fucked his cum into you, not pulling out until he was completely satisfied. Once he was and that dreamy bliss of post-release had settled over him, he reluctantly rolled off and landed next to you flat on his back. His chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths.

But you weren't done yet. Dick slid around to where he had been and pushed his cock into your hole that was still leaking Jason's cum.

"The best goes on last," he teased with a lazy smirk.

He sighed, his long lashes dusting his cheeks at the sensation. His grip was much softer. He took his thrusts slower too, knowing your poor pussy was aching from how rough Jason got.

You whimpered and twitched at the slight overstimulation.

"Shhh, doing good for me," he cooed, "Pussy's so warm and soft. She wants me. I’ll make her feel all better."

The sounds coming from where your bodies connected were absolutely obscene. And even though Dick wasn't going as fast, he was getting just as deep. His tip brushed your sweet spot over and over. Your toes curled and your back arched. This time it was Jason you held onto. You gripped his hand tight as you could, and he let you. He didn't baby you like Dick did, but he allowed you the comfort of his large, warm palm around yours.

You were totally gone by the time Dick was ready to let go. He angled his hips to guide you into another release. Your walls fluttered around his length. His head tilted back and he let out a groan, feeling his own peak bubble up inside him.

He came inside too, pumping your cunt full of another load. Like Jason, he fucked it all in. He stayed snug in the tight grip of your pussy for a moment before pulling out. Sticky, white cum gushed out, dripping down onto the bed.

Dick landed on the opposite side of you from Jason. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your cheek.

The three of you laid in silence for a little while. For you, it was out of pure exhaustion. You wondered if it was that for them too, or if they were processing what they'd done. The lines they'd crossed and the secret they'd now have to keep.

But you didn't get the chance to dwell on it for too long because soon enough, Dick guided you off the bed.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said.

With a hand on the small of your back, he led you to your bedroom and into the en-suite bathroom. You assumed Jason stayed behind to take care of the bedding, but you didn't ask.

Dick drew you a bath and helped you in. He did like he said he would, cleaned you up. Every move he made he did so with all the care in the world. Gentle hands wiping the dried drool and tear streaks from your face.

When you were done, he helped you out and dried you off. He let you go about the other parts of putting yourself back together on your own, taking a few moments to tend to himself. 

You didn't know how the rest of the day would look. If things would be awkward now or if they just wouldn't acknowledge what happened. You waited on your bed for Dick, dressed in a pair of fresh clothes and your skin smooth after being lathered in lotion.

He came in after you a few minutes later. Immediately, your fears of things being weird were extinguished by the smile he gave you. The same charming one he'd had since a few days ago. He climbed on the bed with you and laid back against your pillows. You followed in suit, leaning your head against his shoulder.

You were content like this, just relaxing with him. In the back of his mind, he knew this was the quietest you'd been since he arrived.

Moments later the door opened and Jason came in. He crossed the room without a word. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing, but he basically answered the question when he reached the other side of your bed.

He laid down next to you like Dick had on your other side. You eyed him suspiciously. Never would you have imagined he'd willingly spend time with you. He caught the look though and gave it his usual frown.

"What?" he scoffed, "I was the one actually hired to watch you. I gotta make sure you're not getting into trouble."

Unlike before, his speaking didn't provoke you to whine or insult. Instead, you smiled and wrapped your arm around his bicep.

"It's ok. I won't make you admit that you wanna cuddle too," you grinned.

He shook his head in denial. "I'm just doing my job," he asserted, "Plus, I think I won the contest, so it only makes sense that I'm the one who stays with you."

"Hey, we never decided on a winner," Dick cut in.

"I mean, we didn't have to because it was pretty obvious."

"Well we got a whole month, so if you're so confident, we can always have a rematch later," Dick challenged.

"Um, you guys didn't even ask for my vote on who I think won," you interrupted with a pout.

They both turn their eyes to you. For once, Jason didn’t look at you with total disdain. In this moment, you could see some fondness under the top coat of annoyance.

"There's that attitude. I guess it was naive of me to hope we fucked it out of you," he said.

Dick chuckled at that. "It'll take a couple more rounds before that's even a real possibility."

You glared at the both of them, but like Jason, your eyes didn't hold real anger or frustration now. Only the hope that they'd try to put you back in line again.

[onlyalyx]

trapped

pairing: robin (dick grayson) x catwoman apprentice! reader

tags: mdni, fem reader, reader is a year older than dick, enemies to lovers¿?, dick calls reader “cat”, reader calls dick “birdie”/“baby”, very hormonal teens, dry humping, enclosed space, forced proximity, making out, groping, sub dick, thigh riding, praise, handjob, p in v, cowgirl, unprotected sex, creampie, reader is more “experienced” (lmk if i missed any)

You had never known stability. Not in the traditional sense.

Your earliest memories were of cold nights and empty pockets, of learning that in Gotham, you had to take what you wanted because no one was going to give it to you. And maybe that was why Selina Kyle took you in—because she saw something of herself in you.

From the moment Selina took you under her wing, normalcy became a foreign concept. She never pretended to be a mother, never showered you in words of affection, but she provided. She gave you food, a place to sleep, and most importantly—a purpose.

Life with her was exhilarating. Nights spent darting across Gotham’s rooftops, breaking into places you had no business being in, taking what you wanted simply because you could. Selina taught you everything—how to move unseen, how to pick locks with delicate precision, how to manipulate, how to charm.

And, of course, how to run.

But no matter how good you were, they were better.

Batman and Robin.

They were always there, always a step behind, always chasing.

Selina handled Batman, slipping through his grasp time and time again, leaving only whispered promises and stolen kisses in her wake.

And you? You were left to deal with Robin.

The first time you saw him, you nearly laughed.

A kid. Shorter than you, all bright colors and attitude, wearing a mask that barely hid the smugness in his expression.

Not like you were a kid yourself, right?

“You’re kidding,” You had said, eyeing the small figure in bright red, green, and yellow. “You’re Robin?”

From the way Selina warned you about Robin, you expected… something else.

Not this short, flamboyant boy in pixie boots and wearing that shit-eating grin.

Robin bristled at your tone, crossing his arms. “Yeah, and?”

“You just seem… smaller than I expected.”

He scoffed. “You’re, like, barely taller than me.”

You hummed, amused. “Still taller.”

It should’ve been easy. You’d spent months training under Selina, learning how to evade, how to slip through fingers like water. He was just a kid—a kid in bright colors, a cape to slow him down, and all energy and attitude.

But Robin was fast.

And relentless.

No matter how quick you were, how well you knew Gotham’s rooftops, he kept up. Every twist, every jump, he was right there, like a shadow that refused to be shaken.

He grinned through it all, like the chase itself was the fun part.

By the time you finally lost him—ducking into a hidden alley, heart pounding, breath sharp—you realized something.

You weren’t annoyed.

You were excited.

For the first time in your life, you were looking forward to something.

And it became a game.

Every time Selina clashed with Batman, you and Robin danced around each other, locked in your own little battle. He was all quips and acrobatics, relentless determination wrapped in bright colors, and you matched him move for move.

And then, somewhere along the way, over the years, the game changed.

It was subtle at first.

The way his hands lingered just a second too long when he grabbed you. The way his breath hitched when you leaned in, voice low and teasing.

And then, one night, after a particularly close chase—

“You’re slowing down, Birdie,” you teased, perched on the edge of a rooftop, looking down at him. “Getting tired of chasing me?”

Robin huffed, rolling his shoulders, the movement fluid yet tense, like he was shaking off exhaustion—or frustration. He was older now, no longer the scrawny kid you used to outrun on Gotham’s rooftops. He’d grown into himself, his frame broader, his stance more grounded, more sure. The suit, once bright and almost ridiculous in its vibrancy, seemed different now. The red looked richer, darker under the moonlight, the shadows clinging to the fabric, emphasizing the sharp angles of his body. His cape, now black and lined with gold, draped over his shoulders with an ease that made him seem more intimidating, more like a real threat than just Batman’s sidekick.

And then there was his voice—lower, rougher, with an edge that hadn’t been there before.

An edge that reminded you of Gotham’s Dark Knight.

Gone was the high-energy bravado of a kid playing hero. Now, when he spoke, there was weight behind his words, something firm, something undeniably commanding. It sent a strange thrill through you, though you’d never admit it.

“Who says I’m not letting you get away on purpose?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Awfully generous of you.”

“Maybe I like the chase,” he said, stepping closer, his gaze sharp. “Maybe I like you.”

The air shifted.

Your smirk didn’t waver, but your heart did.

For the first time, you didn’t have a quip ready.

And then, just as quickly as it came, the moment passed.

He grinned again, all mischief and ease, like he hadn’t just thrown a wrench into your entire world.

You rolled your eyes, shoving down whatever had just coiled in your chest. “You really should work on your flirting, Robin.”

“Is that a challenge?”

You leapt off the rooftop, and this time—

You let him catch you.

You were nineteen now.

It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful to Selina—she’d taken you in when you had nothing, taught you everything you knew. But you weren’t a stray kitten anymore. You had your own ambitions, your own scores to settle, and it was time you made a name for yourself.

Tonight was supposed to be the first step.

A simple break-in. A massive corporation with deep pockets and even deeper corruption. You weren’t just stealing from them—you were stealing leverage. Blackmail, blueprints, the kind of information that could buy you power.

Everything had been going smoothly—until he showed up.

“Still breaking into places you don’t belong?”

You didn’t need to turn around. You knew that voice—low, smug, and just the right amount of irritating.

Robin.

Or, as you liked to think of him now, Gotham’s Most Persistent Pain in the Ass.

You smirked, still focused on the files flickering across the computer screen. “You know me, Birdie. I just love a good challenge.”

“You’re getting sloppy,” he countered, stepping closer.

You caught his reflection in the screen—older now, taller. The bright colors of his suit had been traded for something darker, more tactical. His stance was solid, muscles tense, ready to spring.

You sighed dramatically. “You gonna fight me, or just lecture me to death?”

“I was thinking both.”

And then he moved.

You barely had time to react before he was on you, reaching for the drive in your hand. You twisted away, knocking over a chair in your retreat, and bolted.

The chase was on.

You darted through the office space, leaping over desks, twisting through narrow hallways, all while Robin stayed infuriatingly close. You could feel him at your heels, relentless as ever, and for the first time in a long time, you wondered if you might not shake him this time.

Then you saw it—a maintenance door left slightly ajar.

You shoved through, sprinting inside just as Robin reached for you. His fingers just barely caught the back of your jacket, and in his effort to stop you, he yanked.

Hard.

The force sent you both crashing through the doorway, tumbling down a short flight of metal stairs in a mess of limbs and curses.

You landed first, sprawled on your back against the cold floor. Robin landed on top of you, knocking the breath from your lungs as the door behind you slammed shut with an ominous clunk.

A silence settled.

“…Did you just tackle me down a flight of stairs?”

Dick groaned, pushing himself up slightly, bracing himself on his arms—his body still pressed against yours. His breath was warm against your cheek when he muttered, “You fell.”

“You pulled me.”

“You ran.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting slightly beneath him—only to realise just how close you were.

The space around you was tiny.

Metal shelves lined the walls, stacked with old equipment and cleaning supplies. The air was thick with dust and stale air, and the dim, flickering light overhead barely illuminated anything.

You and Dick were practically pressed against each other.

And worse?

The door wasn’t budging.

It’s like it automatically locked you both in the moment you entered.

Dick must’ve come to the same conclusion because he exhaled sharply, muttering a quiet, “Fantastic.”

You turned to face him, looking him up and down. “Aww. Trapped in a tiny, enclosed space with me? Try not to look so excited, Birdie.”

Dick clenched his jaw, shifting his weight, and—

Oh.

That was… interesting.

For the first time since you met him, he was the one who faltered. His breath hitched, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested against your waist.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, voice dropping to a whisper. “Never been this close to a girl before?”

His gaze flickered to your lips before he caught himself, schooling his expression into something unimpressed. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, tilting your head. “That’s why you’re still on top of me?”

Dick tensed. Then, with a sharp inhale, he pushed off you, moving to sit up—only to immediately hit his head against one of the low shelves with a dull thud.

You laughed.

Dick glared, rubbing the spot where he’d smacked his skull. “Glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Oh, of course.”

You pushed yourself up, stretching out your legs as much as the tiny space allowed. Dick was sitting against the opposite wall now, knees bent, arms resting over them. The space was too small for either of you to fully move without touching the other.

A slow smirk curled at your lips as an idea took root.

You shifted, closing the distance, swinging a leg over his to straddle his lap.

His whole body stiffened.

“W—What are you doing?” he asked, voice suddenly very unsteady.

“Getting comfortable,” you murmured, leaning in just slightly. “You don’t mind, do you?”

His breath shuddered.

This was new.

You’d spent years teasing him, pushing his buttons, testing his patience. But this—the way he was looking at you now, wide-eyed, breathless, trapped beneath you with nowhere to go—this was different.

You could feel the way his heart was racing.

You dragged your fingers down his chest, slow and deliberate. “Still think I’m getting sloppy?”

Dick exhaled shakily. “I—”

He stares unabashedly at the way your plush thighs brush against his sides when you shift to make yourself comfortable, he feels the way heavier breasts push against his chest as you leaned closer.

Dick wasn’t an idiot.

He knew you were doing this on purpose.

You can feel Dick’s eyes, despite it being hidden behind that damn domino mask of his. It was all over your face, and for a moment—you saw the way his breath hitch when his eyes landed on your lips.

That only fueled you more.

And without a second thought, you kissed him.

The second your lips met his, the tension snapped.

Dick made a quiet, desperate noise against your lips, his hands grasping at your waist, unsure whether to pull you closer or push you away. You made the decision for him.

His hesitation lasted seconds before he gave in, melting beneath you, responding with an eagerness that sent a thrill down your spine.

You nipped at his lower lip, earning a shuddered gasp, and God, you’d never seen him like this—needy, breathless, completely at your mercy.

“Is this what you wanted?” you murmured against his lips, your hips shifting just enough to make him choke on a breath.

His fingers dug into your sides as he struggles to maintain control.

He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “Fuck—Cat… no—” Despite the words, his body betrays his desire, hips twitching up to meet yours, his hands sliding up your back.

Dick kisses you again, soft and deep, pouring his desperation and desire into the embrace. And you didn’t waste a second to kiss him back, your hips slowly moving against his thigh, seeking out any sort of relief while also trying to provide Dick some.

And Dick—

He whimpered, soft and pathetic, adorable coming from him.

Your hand moved to cup his face, your thumb stroking along the soft skin of his cheek, leaning down to deepen the kiss.

"You're so pretty." You murmur softly, pulling away slightly to stare at him, your hand making its way to remove his mask. But Dick’s hand immediately caught your wrist, stopping you.

“N-no, wait, mask stays on, Cat. We can’t—“ He didn’t finish the sentence as you rolled your hips against him instead, body jerking in his hold. Somehow the gravity of the situation just stills in his head for a moment. “Shit, shit, wait—we should talk about this, right?”

“What’s there to talk about?” You mutter out, as you press kisses along his jawline. “You want this—I want this. We both want this, don’t you agree?”

You could feel his breath, ragged and shallow.

There was no escaping the sheer intensity of it. Every inch of his body was pushing into yours, and his movements—though tentative—were driven by an undeniable need. His hips, for all his effort to hold back, shifted instinctively, and for a brief second, you felt the unmistakable press of his body against yours. And in one swift motion, you removed his domino mask, tossing it aside as your eyes met his baby blue ones.

He looked at you with wide eyes, clearly torn between wanting to pull away and wanting more. You could practically hear his heart racing in the thick silence.

He swallowed hard. “I—” His voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw it. The boyish cockiness was gone, replaced by something more raw, more real. He was trembling slightly, unsure but wanting, and it made something stir in your chest.

You slid your hands up his chest, fingers brushing over the outline of his suit, feeling the heat of his skin beneath the fabric. His reaction was immediate—he let out a quiet, shaky breath as his hands slid down your back, pulling you even closer.

He kissed you again, this time with more force, his lips hungry, as if he couldn’t get enough. His hands roamed, brushing against your sides, your waist, his fingers lightly pressing against the curves of your body. You could feel him struggling to stay in control, his movements growing more erratic, more desperate, but still so careful, as if he was afraid of pushing you too far.

“Damn it,” he muttered between kisses, his voice tight with frustration. “I hate that you’re making me lose control.”

You smiled against his lips, pulling back just slightly. “You don’t have to hate it, you know.”

His eyes met yours again, and there it was—vulnerable, unsure, but undeniably drawn to you. “I—” He paused, exhaling slowly, as if gathering his thoughts. “I want this. But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You don’t have to know everything,” you said softly, running your hand down his chest once more. “Just go with it.”

Dick’s body reacted immediately, the way his hands moved to your back, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough. You could feel the desperation in him, the way his movements grew more fervent, more insistent, as if the moment had finally overtaken him.

There was something so intoxicating about it—the way he kissed you with such intensity, like every second he spent with you in this confined space only heightened the tension between you. You could feel his body pressing against yours, his every movement a silent invitation, a challenge. His hands, once hesitant, were now roaming freely, touching you with a fervor that made your heart race.

Dick reaches up with one hand to cup your breast, thumbing your nipple through the fabric of your suit, and you let out a guttural moan.

“That’s it, baby, don’t hold back.” You mumbled, your hand grabbing a fistful of his hair, tilting his head up to meet his lips once more.

And don’t hold back he did. His hand fondled with your clothed breast, while the other made its way to the zip on your back.

Dick's gaze lazily makes its way up your form, greedily taking in every inch. He gently bites down on his lower lip, face starting to look flushed as he lets his guard down. Bending forward, you close the distance between your mouths, nipping gently and taking that plush lower lip for yourself. He gasps, but gives as good as he gets, tonguing into you with a little groan. When he tries to take control and deepen the kiss, you smirk and pull back, drawing a pouty little sigh from him.

"Ah ah, birdie—let me do all the work, yeah?" You scold him. His forehead came to rest on your shoulder, his warm breath mixing with yours.

“I’m sorry, I just—” You placed a finger on his lips, clicking your tongue.

“Don’t apologise.” You murmur, lifting his head up as you start to press kisses all over his jawline once again, trailing down to his neck. Dick whines softly at the sudden shift, mewling your name.

He grinds against your clothed cunt, the fabric of your suits making it easier to hurriedly slide against each other.

Dick wishes he could feel how tightly you’d wrap around him instead of this but he needed release now, and this was the quickest way to get it.

But you notice his neediness.

You noticed how much he was aching to be inside of you.

He was bucking into you desperately, moving his hands to grope your tits and roll your nipples between his fingers.

“There you go… Good boy, keep going.” You whisper, your hand trailing down to the hem of his pants, tugging at it.

Dick inhales sharply as he feels your fingers brushing against the waistband of his pants, his hips twitching in anticipation. He's breathing heavily now, chest rising and falling rapidly against yours.

“Ah fuck…” His voice is strained, torn between wanting to give in completely and the lingering hesitation. “I want to... but we should... shit.. but we should be careful.”

You tilt your head at that, your hand resting against his growing arousal, rubbing against it painstakingly slow. “And where’s the fun in that?”

Fuck.

Despite his words, his hips lift slightly, seeking more of your touch. “Please, just... let me...” He swallows hard, hands gripping your waist as he looks up at you with hazy, desire-filled eyes. “...let me make you feel good.” His fingers slip beneath the fabric of your bottom, brushing against the bare skin of your stomach, leaving tingles in their wake.

“Tell me what you want. I'll do anything... anything you want.” His voice is a needy whisper, one you knew you couldn’t resist now.

Your eyes darken with lust as you take in the sight of Dick beneath you, seeing the desperation etched into every line of his body. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the way his heart is pounding against your chest, the tremble of his fingers as they dig into the fabric of your suit.

Slowly, teasingly, you slide your hand lower, palming the growing bulge in his pants. You can feel him, hot and hard, straining against the confines of his costume.

Dick lets out a strangled groan, his hips bucking up into your touch, seeking more friction.

Boldly, you hook your fingers into the waistband of his pants and slowly, torturously, begin to tug them down. The fabric resistive at first, but with a final, sharp tug, you yank them down, exposing his bare skin to the cool air of the room.

Dick's cock springs free, long and cute and perfect, the tip already glistening with precum. It twitches as the air hits it, and you can't help but lick your lips at the sight. You wrap your hand around his shaft, feeling the weight of him, the heat, the way he pulses in your grip.

Dick is panting now, his eyes glazed over with lust as he stares up at you, taking in the sight of you looming over him, his cock in your hand. He looks wrecked, destroyed, completely at your mercy, and it sends a thrill through you, a rush of power and desire.

You stroke him slowly, teasingly, watching as he writhes beneath you, his body arching into your touch. You can feel him leaking more, his cock throbbing in your hand, and you know he won't last much longer at this rate.

So you lean down, your breasts brushing against his chest as you murmur in his ear, your breath hot against his skin. “That's it, baby... just like that. You feel so good... I can't wait to taste you.”

You take your time, stroking him with long, deliberate movements from base to tip. Your hand is soft and warm, encircling his thick shaft completely as you work him over. You can feel every ridge, every vein, the way he throbs and twitches in your grip.

Dick's breath comes in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he struggles to maintain control. His eyes flutter shut, brows furrowed in concentration, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Soft, breathless moans spill from his lips with every upward stroke, the sounds growing louder, more desperate as you continue your ministrations.

As you pick up the pace, pumping him faster, his reactions become more intense. His hips start to lift, meeting your strokes, fucking up into your fist with a desperate hunger. Quiet, strangled moans spill from his lips, each one making your own desire peak in response.

“Fuck... Dickie, you like that, huh? Like how you’re fucking my fist, don’t you? Such a good boy..”

You watch, as Dick’s face contorts with pleasure. His brows furrow, teeth sinking into his lower lip hard enough to leave indentations. The tendons in his neck strain as his head tips back, throat bared to you in a silent offering. His eyes, when they meet yours, are hazy and dark, the blue of his irises nearly swallowed by the black of his pupils.

The wet sounds of your hand moving over his cock fill the small space, obscenely loud in the charged silence. You can feel him leaking more, his precum making your strokes slicker, easier. His cock is red and angry, the head an almost painful shade of pink, the slit weeping with his desire.

You lean down, your breasts brushing against his heaving chest as you bring your mouth to his ear. Your lips brush the shell of it as you whisper, your voice low and heavy with lust. “That's it, baby... doesn't it feel good? Doesn't it feel amazing to have my hand wrapped around this big and needy cock of yours? I can feel how much you want it... how much you want me...”

Dick shudders, his body wracking with sensation as he listens to your words. A broken whimper escapes him, his voice hoarse and wrecked as he manages to gasp out, “F-Fuck… please, (Name)… I need you so bad…”

You never knew how much you needed him begging for you until now. And god did it feel good.

You can feel his desperation, his absolute need for release. And you're going to make him work for it. Slowly, torturously, you increase the speed of your strokes, squeezing just a bit tighter, twisting your wrist on the upstroke.

Dick is panting now, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. His face is flushed, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched tight as he tries to hold back. But you can see the way his body is tensing, the way his cock is throbbing harder, leaking more steadily against your palm.

“(Name)... I can't... I'm gonna... fuck, I'm gonna...” His words dissolve into a guttural moan, his entire body going rigid.

You feel his cock throb and twitch in your grip, and then with a hoarse cry of your name, he's coming undone. Thick, hot ropes of cum erupt from his cock, painting your hand and his stomach with his release. His body shudders and jerks through each wave of pleasure, his hand gripping yours like a vice.

You work him through it, stroking him through each aftershock, feeling his cock pulse and twitch against your fingers until finally, he collapses back against the wall, chest heaving, skin sheened with sweat. He looks utterly debauched, hair disheveled, lips kiss-swollen and parted around shallow breaths. His eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, struggling to regain some semblance of coherence.

Slowly, you bring your hand up to your mouth, making a show of licking his spend from your fingers, my tongue swirling around each digit, ensuring he can see every last bit of him disappearing between your lips. Dick watches closely, his chest still rising and falling rapidly, a fresh wave of desire washing over his eyes as he takes in the sight of you licking his cum off your hand.

“Mmm, you taste good, Dick,” You purr, wrapping your hand around his re-hardening shaft, giving him a slow, teasing stroke. “I could get used to this view—you, all wrecked and wanting, cock throbbing and ready to go again already.” You lean in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “You really are an overachiever, aren't you?”

You can feel him shiver against you, his hips lifting slightly into your touch. You grin, pulling back to look at him with a wicked gleam in your eyes. Then, slowly, you reach back and unzip the rest of your suit, peeling the tight material down your body until you’re just left in your panties.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband and tug them down, baring your dripping cunt to his hungry gaze.

Dick's eyes widen as he takes in the sight of you, his tongue licking his lips as he stares at your glistening folds. You grab his hand, guiding it between your legs, pressing his fingers against your aching clit. He inhales sharply at the contact, feeling the slick heat of your arousal coating his digits.

“Fuck, (Name).…you're so wet.” He breathes, his fingers starting to move on their own, stroking along your slit, feeling how ready you are for him. “Is this...is this because of me?”

You moan softly, rolling your hips against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. “Yes, birdie...it's all for you,” You gasp, your head falling back as his fingers find a particularly sensitive spot. “I'm so fucking turned on right now, and it's all because of you.”

You reach down and grab his wrist, guiding his hand to move faster, to press harder against your clit. You grind against him, coating his fingers in your slick arousal, your body trembling with need. You can feel how hard he is, his cock throbbing and leaking against your ass, and you know he wants you just as badly.

Without warning, you shift your hips, positioning yourself so that the head of his cock brushes against your entrance. You feel him gasp, his fingers pausing in their movements as he realizes what you’re about to do. You look down at him, your expression one of pure, unadulterated lust, and then you sink down.

You take him in inch by delicious inch, your walls stretching around his thick length, wrapping him in your tight, wet heat. You both moan at the sensation, your bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces, made to be joined like this. You don't stop until you’re fully seated on his lap, his cock buried to the hilt inside your clit, pressing against his pelvis.

“Oh fuck, Dick...” You whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders as you start to move, rolling your hips in a slow, sensual grind. “You feel so fucking good inside me.”

Your words seem to spur him on, and he starts to thrust up to meet you, his hips lifting off the ground to drive his cock deeper into your needy cunt. The room fills with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans and cries of pleasure echoing off the metal walls. You can feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate, and you know he won't last much longer.

“Come on, baby,” You pant, your voice high and breathless as you ride him harder, faster, chasing your own release. “Come inside me. I want to feel you come inside me, Dick. Please...please come for me.”

With a final, harsh thrust, you grind down against Dick. His eyes widen as he feels your walls clench around him, your words pushing him over the edge.

He pistons his hips up harder, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each punishing thrust. He leans in, burying his face between your breasts, his mask brushing against your skin as he suckles and nips at the soft mounds, leaving marks of possession in his wake.

“Fuck, (Name)...you feel too good,” he pants against your skin, his voice a low, guttural rasp. “So good...”

His words dissolve into a strangled moan as his thrusts become erratic, losing their rhythm as he teeters on the brink of climax. He's so close, his cock pulsing and throbbing inside your clenching walls, your arousal dripping down his shaft with each thrust.

“Ngh— fuck..” he hisses out, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips hard enough to bruise as he holds you down, making sure you take every last drop of his seed. You can feel the hot, thick ropes of his release painting your insides, dripping down onto his lap and the floor below, filling you up just as you'd begged him to do.

You're both panting hard, chests heaving as you come down from your highs. You slump against his chest, completely spent, your body still twitching with the aftershocks. Dick's arms wrap around you, holding you close, his face buried in your hair as he tries to catch his breath.

You can't help but smile, cupping his face in your hands and pulling him in for a slow, deep kiss. You pour all of your satisfaction, all of your desire, all of your growing feelings for him into that kiss. When you finally pull away, you're both smiling, both looking at each other like you can't quite believe this is real.

But then, Dick's eyes widen in realization as the final pulses of his release subside, his softening cock still buried deep inside your fluttering heat. A look of panic flashes across his face beneath the mask as the gravity of what just happened sinks in.

“I...fuck, I'm so sorry,” he starts, voice shaking with remorse. “I didn't mean to... shit, I shouldn't have...”

But you silence him with a searing kiss, your lips crashing against his in a desperate attempt to stem the flow of apologies. You pour every ounce of passion and hunger into the kiss, your tongue delving into his mouth, tangling with his own. For a moment, Dick is stunned, his body stilling beneath you as he allows you to plunder his mouth.

When you finally pull back, your chests heaving, you fix him with a stern look. “Didn't I tell you not to apologise?” you demand, voice low and firm. “I know exactly what I wanted, and I wanted this. I wanted to feel you come inside me, Dick.”

Dick swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “But I didn't use a condom,” he argues weakly. “I could have...we could have...”

You place a finger against his lips, silencing him once more. “Shh. I know the risks. But where’s the fun in not taking them?”

Dick's eyes search yours, a war raging behind those hidden depths. Slowly, hesitantly, he nods, your finger falling away from his lips. “Alright,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “Fine, you win, Cat.”

A slow, shy smile curves your lips as you lean in to press a soft kiss to his jaw, your body still nestled against his, his release cooling inside you. “Good,” you whisper against his skin. “Because I think we're going to be stuck in here for a while,” you say with a grin, glancing around at the small, enclosed space. “You’re going to have to deal with me a little longer, Robin.”

Dick laughs, a real, genuine sound that makes your heart flutter in your chest, his hands sliding up your back to tangle in your hair. “You're insatiable,” he accuses, but there's no bite to his words, only a grudging sort of awe.

“But I think I can handle that,” he says, pulling you down for another kiss. “Especially if it means more of this.”

You nipped at his earlobe before soothing it with your tongue.

“You're just now figuring that out?”

—

Safe to say, Batman found you both a few hours later, and him and Selina lectured you both about the need for protection. (At least you were on the pill.)

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[onlyalyx]

matt loves talking you through it

he’s laid out on the bed, palming his hard cock through his boxers as his other hand rests behind his head — eyes trained on the sight of you undressing in front of him.

you’re practically putting on a show with the way you slide your clothes off, nothing but your skimpy vest remaining as you crawl over to him.

“gonna ride me?” he murmurs, hands coming up to rest on your thighs as you straddle him — your bare cunt already leaving a wet patch on his boxers.

“mhm.” you nod, holding your bottom lip between your teeth as you slowly grind against him, enjoying the feeling of his hard length against your pussy.

“so fuckin’ wet.” he groans, eyebrows furrowed as he watches you move against him — fingers digging into your skin for more. then he's sitting up, hands holding him up on the bed as he kisses down your neck and chest — feeling the heat of your skin against his lips.

“want you.” you whisper out, wrapping your arms around his bare shoulders as your eyes flutter shut. his eyebrows raise at the plea in your tone, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you closer.

“you uh, want me?” he teases, breath hot on your neck as he begins to tug down his boxers with his other hand — holding you against him. 

you simply whine in response, feeling his hard cock rest against your dripping pussy — pulsing for some attention. he’s kicking them off to the end of the bed as you begin rutting against him again — the both of you moaning at the contact.

your wet cunt slipping along his dick so perfectly as you tilt your hips back, allowing your clit to run against it with the right pressure.

“c’mon, show me how good you take my dick baby.” he taunts, nipping at your skin before he's pulling back to rest his head on the pillow — leaving you hot and flustered from his words.

you’re obeying immediately, shifting forward to slip the tip in as your hand rests on the bed to hold you up. “mghh— so tight.” he grunts, unable to stop his hands from lingering up to your hips.

“oh, fuu— ahh.” you gasp out, gripping his shoulder as he stretches you out. you’re trying to take him all but the slight burn is stopping you, blurring out any sense of pleasure.

“go slow— take it slow.” he murmurs softly, holding your hips firmly to stop you from going further — helping you gently rock your hips for more of him to slowly sink in.

“thaats it— fuck.” he groans, watching you fuck yourself onto him slowly as your needy cunt sucks him in deeper. “mghh, so f-full.” you whine, gripping his shoulders tightly to stabilise yourself.

you sink further and further, finally bottoming out as his tip grazes your g-spot — eliciting a lewd sound that makes matts balls thump.

“so fuckin’ hot— sit up… wanna see you.” he groans, hands running up and down your sides as you sit up — tugging your top off before throwing it onto the bed.

“oh god.” he moans, mouth hung open as you begin to move up and down, your naked body driving matt insane. the way your tits are moving with every bounce, drawing his hands there like a magnet.

“doing so good, taking me so well— mgh shit.” his eyes flutter shut as you go faster, gripping onto his wrists to hold yourself up as you fuck yourself onto his cock.

“ah, fuck matt — so good.” you whine, in utter bliss at the feeling of his dick filling you so perfectly, hitting every right spot. “mghh— that’s it, keep taking my cock like that.”

his words only fuel you as you move faster, ignoring the dull ache in your knees, only focussed on the way his hands move over your body and the way his face contorts into nothing but pleasure.

heavy breaths slip past your lips, your body growing tired as you try to keep up the pace — desperate to be good for him despite the way you begin to collapse forward.

you let out a pathetic whine, hands resting on his shoulders to keep you up. “can’t…” you whimper as your hips slow down.

“s’okay, take it slow.” he murmurs, hands shifting to run through your hair as he holds you against his chest — allowing you to rest. 

you let out shallow breaths, moving slower to feel his cock drag in and out of you. 

“fuuck, that’s it— keep going like that.” he encourages, one hand slipping down to grip your ass — helping you shift back and forth to slowly grind against him. “atta girl.”

you whine at the praise, shifting ever so slightly to see the smirk plastered on his face, a look of pride as you keep going. giving him as much as you can despite how out of breath you were.

“look so pretty grinding on m’dick.” he mumbles, fingers digging into your plush skin to press you down harder, keeping his cock deep inside of you. “so so pretty.” he murmurs against your neck, beginning to press soft kisses.

you’re left a whining mess on top of him, hot bodies stuck togther as he lets you slowly fuck yourself onto him — helping you through it with his words and hands, gripping tighter as the feeling consumes him.

©sturnsrecord