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#I want the middle one in dark green
trans-xianxian · 1 year
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3bagshotrow · 4 months
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middle-earth dashboard simulator
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🏵 hobbitc0re Follow
pippin was 29 years old???
🏵 hobbitc0re Follow
he should've been at the green dragon
( 420 notes )
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📸 daily-middle-earth-photos Follow
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#gates of argonath #argonath #amon hen #middle earth landscapes #photographers of middle earth #travel #dark academia #lmao pls reblog this i almost fell out of my boat taking this photo
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🦢 elfposting Follow
my hungry ass could never travel with lembas
( 9,839 notes )
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🐟 sojuicysweet Follow
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#the entitlement i see on this site sometimes is disgusting #y'all will just post about having easy access to lembas when we can't eats hobbit food??? #we must starve??? #vent #do not rb
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🗡 shieldmaiden Follow
CALLOUT FOR GRIMA WORMTONGUE
I've talked a lot about this already on this blog, but I want to have everything collected in one post so next time some dipshit with a white hand icon slides into my inbox to call me a liar I can just link to this post. tl;dr grima wormtongue has been poisoning my uncle and the land of rohan for the past few years, and here are the receipts:
Keep reading
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🧙‍♂️ bignaturals Follow
i stg if one more of you tells me I should've sent frodo on the eagles I'm asking iluvatar to take me back
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📖 booknerdofbree Follow
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recent read: there and back again: a hobbit's tale by bilbo baggins
I thought this was SOOO fun and cute! I'm usually not into rpf but did anyone else think there was something between bilbo and thorin? 👀 I can't be the only one who saw it. but the ending made me cry my eyes out.
4.5/5 stars
#booklr #there and back again #bilbo baggins #recent read #dark academia #light academia #book review
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🌲 elvenking69 Follow
who up mirking they wood
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🐛 manofsirith Follow
wtf the new king of gondor just bowed to these four random short guys?? everyone else bowed too and I just went along with it lmao 😅 am I missing something????
#this is right after he sang a song and made out with some hot elf chick #truly the wildest coronation i've ever been to
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🥵 firstagebaddiebracket Follow
ULTIMATE HOTTEST FIRST AGE BADDIE TOURNAMENT FINALS!!!!
🔘 haldir-deactivated30190303
here y'all go again pitting two bad bitches against each other
🌀 aragornsbigtoe Follow
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🌊 helcaraxebaby Follow
everyone who voted galadriel is a kinslayer apologist #luthiensweep
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🔥 beaconboi Follow
fuck my job so much. everyone manifest an attack on gondor so I can finally warm my fingers on this beacon fire.
🔥 beaconboi Follow
by eru this can't be happening
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allbark-no-bite · 3 months
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things friends do.
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felix catton x reader (wc: 3.1k)
summary: things friends do include but are not excluded to: sleeping in each other’s bed, kissing, sharing beer, fucking each other
warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected sex
author’s note: y’all i have refused to believe that jacob elordi was attractive but saltburn did me in
————————————————————————
You were not in love with Felix Catton.
And Felix Catton was not in love with you.
He was a lover boy, but he was not your lover boy.
The thing about Felix was that he had just about everyone at his disposal. Girls, guys, it didn't matter. Everything belonged to him so long as he wanted it. But it didn't feel that way. You never felt as though you were owned by him. It was just that he was Felix and who didn't want to belong to him?
Of course 'just friends' didn't constantly have their hands all over each other, didn't sleep in each other's bed or see each other inappropriately naked. And 'just friends' definitely didn't kiss each other on the mouth.
But this was Felix.
Not Oliver, or Farleigh, or Veneita. Felix.
The party is so electric that you're not sure if it's the music or your own erratic heartbeat thumping in your ears. The place is so packed that at some point the entire bar had become part of the main dance floor in order to accommodate for the dizzying array of overheated, intoxicated bodies moving this way and that. Blue light illuminates the otherwise dark room. Flashes of neon green splash across swaying bodies, highlighting dancers as they navigate the floor.
To no one's surprise, Felix is in the center of it all. He'd gravitated towards the pole in the middle of the room like a magnet and had taken to it to pay his dues, his slender body rolling to the music with all of his typical charisma.
After a few beers, you're pleasantly buzzed, but you'll probably be toeing the line once you finish the fourth in your hand. Felix is well on his way to a monster hangover, one that he'll sleep off on the floor of your dorm room. Farleigh is right behind him, likely just as intoxicated, but with him you could never tell. Farleigh was always the same catty bitch no matter how drunk or sober he was. You loved him, but he was a bitch.
A heavy weight suddenly staggers upon your shoulders, and you groan against the weight, both you and Felix swaying dangerously to the side as he throws his arm around you. Usually this wouldn't work because he's so ridiculously tall but the alcohol had made him a little less coordinated than usual and he's slouched down to closer to your height. Beer sloshes over the rim of his plastic cup and splashes onto the floor at your feet.
"Having fun, darling?" he asks, half shouting in your ear to be heard over the music.
"Always," you laugh, though it's mostly directed at him.
His skin is clammy with sweat and his breath is coated with the familiar, yeasty smell of beer. "Where's Farleigh?" Felix doesn't even wait for your response before he's shouting for him. "Ay! Farleigh!" There's a cigarette pinched between two fingers of the same hand that's holding onto his cup, and he raises it to get his friend's attention.
His arm still around you, you dodge the spilling liquid heading for your feet. "Felix! Felix, careful!" you scold him, still laughing, so the smile doesn't disappear from his face.
In an attempt to solve the problem, he leans forward and starts to swallow back the remainder of the beer in his cup. He must underestimate just how much he had left to go because it starts to escape past the sides of his mouth, dripping past his jaw and down the front of his open shirt.
You shriek again. "Felix!"
Laughing, he pulls the cup away and brings it towards you. Before you can protest, he's tipping it back into your mouth. He leaves you no choice but to swallow it or wear it across the front of your shirt so you do your best to drink the remaining beer, more nursing from the cup than gulping as Felix was.
It leaves your lips and chin wet, and before you can wipe the excess beer away, Felix does it himself, somewhat roughly dragging his thumb under your lip. He then sucks the digit into his mouth, hardly thinking twice about it. It would have been erotic with anyone else. But this was everyday with Felix. It would have been weird if you hadn't chugged the backwash of his beer.
His attention is just as quickly drug from you to Farleigh. You hadn't noticed the other boy approaching. He gives you a wicked smile, a look in his eyes like he wants to say something but refrains. You tilt your head, prepared to ask him what his mischievous look is all about but Felix interrupts you.
"Farleigh, mate," Felix begins still hugging you close. "The girls are looking a bit bored. What do ya think?"
Across the room, India and Annabel are sitting on a couch together. The piece of furniture itself has certainly seen better days, torn and stained with bodily fluids of varying levels of disgusting. There's a guy with his arm slung around India, but for all she's paying attention to him, he might as well not exist. She's drinking from a bottle of champagne and couldn't look less interested in him.
Farleigh's eyes track from you to Felix, as though making some sort of connection, then he smiles cheshire-like. "Oh yeah, mate. You know, I do think India was actually looking for you earlier." His sinister brown eyes lock with yours, as if waiting for you to object. "Why don't you go put her out of her misery. (Y/n) and I will go busy ourselves at the bar."
Felix grins crookedly, nothing but honest fun shining in his blown pupils. "I will see you two later."
He straightens but not before twisting his neck, body still plastered to yours, and he plants a sloppy kiss to the side of your mouth. His lips taste like beer and nicotine. It's not really even a kiss, just a lack of coordination on Felix's part that he didn't catch your cheek. If Farleigh hadn't been trying to start something in the first place, you wouldn't have even thought twice about it.
It's not the first time Felix has kissed you. Hell, he's probably even kissed Farleigh at some point. Maybe not on the mouth because they were cousins, but that's besides the point. Friends kissed each other all the time. This wasn't anything new.
As Felix removes himself from you, his tall figure walking over to grab India's hand and lead her from the couch, the guy who had been flirting with her for the past hour glaring after them, you level your stare with Farleigh's. "What's that look about?"
Farleigh crosses his arms, looking as full of himself as ever, and rolls his eyes. He really was a bitch sometimes. "Fuck the friend code and fuck him already. You know you want to."
It's your turn to roll your eyes. "I don't want to fuck him, Farleigh."
You don't. Things just weren't like that between you and Felix. Sure, maybe there had been a few occasions where you'd sucked him off and he'd done the same for you in return but that was all purely situational. There were no feelings attached. Just two friends who were close enough to do that kind of thing without it being weird.
Farleigh just scoffs at your ignorance, pushing past you with his shoulder to head over to the bar. "Just like sweet little Ollie doesn't want to fuck him? Please, neither of you look at him all that different."
"Everyone looks at him like that," you argue. "He's Felix."
"No, everyone looks at him like they want his dick in their mouth. You look at him like you'd let him do absolutely anything he fucking wants to you. And honestly, (Y/n), it's kinda sad." He says the last part with faux pity, his voice demeaning.
You scowl at him as he turns back around and walks over to the bar.
Fuck Farleigh. You did not want to fuck Felix.
And fuck him for putting the thought in your head.
It's nearing two am by the time you remove yourself from the bar. You're no more intoxicated than you were earlier, having cut yourself off after chugging the last of Felix's drink, but you weren't particularly keen on walking in on Felix and India after tonight so you'd resigned yourself to sitting on a barstool for the remainder of the night.
You keep telling yourself that you weren't bothered by him having sex with her, but Farleigh had put the thought in your head and it wouldn't leave.
Of course you liked Felix. Who didn't like Felix? But did you want to sleep with him? No.
Maybe.
It wasn't like he wouldn't do it if you asked. But Felix would have sex with anything that walked. And you weren't India. You were his best friend. And no matter now many times you two had pushed the line of being just friends, having sex with him would completely ruin the line all together. And then what? There nowhere to go after you start dating your best friend. If it crashes and burns it's game over. And with Felix, that was a guarantee.
You pass India going opposite of you down the hall. One of the straps of her dress is hanging off her shoulder, bedazzled high heels in her hands as she struggles to slip them back on. There's a dark purple hickey at the junction of her throat and collarbone and another lighter one above her breast. You don't say anything to her, just push past her into Felix's dorm.
He's sprawled out across the top of the bed that he never makes, shirtless and only a pair of flimsy boxers to cover his bareness. His head rolls towards you, cigarette between his lips.
"Hey," he greets, smoke spilling from his mouth. "You have a good time with Farleigh?"
You pick your way through the disaster of his room, stepping around empty boxes of pizza and abandoned articles of clothing until you find something that looks wearable. You unzip your dress, only half turned away from him as you pull on one of his shirts. He's seen you naked before and so your ass and the side of your boobs is hardly scandalous to him.
"Farleigh is an ass," you retort, crawling onto his mattress to settle into the empty space at his side. It's without a doubt the same space that India had been just a few minutes before.
Felix frowns, the piercing his brow moving downwards with the expression. "What's he said to you?" His tone is concerned because he knows how his cousin can be.
You just sigh in response, shifting into a more comfortable position at his side. Felix takes another drag of his cigarette while he waits for your response. Farleighs words run through your head again.
"Why haven't we had sex?"
He actually laughs at that one, sitting up on one of his elbows so that he can see you better. The shag of his dark brunette hair hangs over his forehead as he looks down at you. "Do you want to have sex?"
While his tone is amused and humorous, you know he's genuinely asking. Felix would never make fun of you for that kind of thing.
You shrug, looking up into his bemused brown eyes. "I don't know. Maybe?"
This conversation shouldn't be as casual as you're making it out to be, and maybe it wouldn't have been with anyone else, but this is Felix. He's your best friend.
Slowly, he leans down and places a kiss on your lips. It's fairly brief, hardly even long enough for you to kiss him back before he's pulling away. "Then let's have sex," he says, and it's as simple as that.
Felix leans down again, connecting your mouths. Without breaking the kiss, he shifts from where he'd been laying beside you to bracket your hips with his knees. His long fingers find the buttons of his shirt that you just put on and begin to unbutton them, his hands sliding down your sides until you're squirming.
"Felix," you whine, already short of breath from his touch.
"Relax, baby. I've got you," he murmurs into your mouth, sliding one of his hands into your hair, the blunt of his nails scraping against your scalp. It gives him enough purchase to tip your head back and expose your neck to his unrelenting mouth. The hot heat of his mouth pants against the underside of your jaw, the wet muscle of his tongue laving along your throat.
His other hand slides down your hip, then your thigh before coming to your panties. You have to force yourself not to squirm away in anticipation. Thankfully, Felix isn't a tease and he uses two of his fingers to pull your panties to the side. You do, however, jump when he slides them into your slick hole without any hesitation.
The bastard snickers against your throat. "Sorry," he apologizes, kissing apologetically at your jaw. "I guess I should have warned you."
All you can do is huff, your fingers tugging at his tangle of brown hair. He grins at your inability to respond before kissing your mouth again. He swallows the noise that escapes you when he curls his fingers and your back arches off of the bed. He does it again, this time scissoring them to stretch your hole. The burn is more pleasurable than uncomfortable, but it leaves you gasping into his open mouth.
Just when you think that's all he has to offer with his fingers, they somehow slip even further, hitting some part deep inside of you that you didn't even know existed. He curls them and you actually cry out, your knees knocking at his hips to push him away.
"I know, I know," he soothes, using the broadness of his shoulders to keep your legs in place. Felix curls his fingers into your smooth walls a few more times, his thumb circling your clit until you swear you can't take anymore. It's torture, the length of his two fingers inside of you.
Finally, he pulls them away before you can actually start crying. Your arousal coats his long fingers and drips down his wrist, glistening in the darkness of his room. Felix's brown eyes hold yours as he sticks them into his mouth, refusing to look away even as his tongue dips between them. You can barley swallow the spit in your mouth.
Felix grins, leaning down to kiss you. Even if you hadn't wanted to taste yourself on his lips, he doesn't give you much of a choice, his tongue dipping into your mouth. He moans, and it's quite possibly the hottest thing you've ever heard.
Then he's disconnecting your mouths to slide down his boxers. His hard cock bobs free, brushing against the lean planes of his stomach. You've seen Felix's dick before. It's no surprise to you how large he is— incredibly long with a perfectly mushroomed tip— but you've never had to think about it actually going inside of you.
His hand catches your jaw, forcing you to look at his face. There must have been flash of fear in your eyes because he murmurs sweetly, "Look at my face, okay? I want to see you."
You nod as best you can in his hold.
You're not sure if it's on purpose or not but he misses the first try, his cock sliding through your slick and nudging at your clit. Your whole body jolts but his hand at your throat holds you in place.
The second time, his mushroomed head catches at your hole and he slips in, meeting little resistance. He slides in only another inch or so before stopping, his cock already snug inside of you. You whine when he tries to push in further.
Felix kind of laughs, his hand reaching down to circle his thumb at your clit. "M'sorry, baby. You're so tight. Just give me a second."
You swallow, willing back tears. It's not that it hurts, not really, just the fact that he feels so good and you want him inside of you.
Without warning, his hand splays across your stomach and he uses the leverage to push further inside of you. This time your muscles relax enough around him and he slides all the way in.
You moan at the feel of him entirely inside of you.
“There we go,” he groans, the muscles of his abdomen contracting as he holds himself up. Now fully inside of you, he begins rocking his hips, his dick hitting that spongey spot inside of you with every thrust. Felix is breathing heavily into your ear, the squelching of him sliding in and out of you the only other sound in the room.
Soon Felix hits a spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and almost immediately you’re coming, clenching around him as you do so.
“Fuck,” he whispers. Felix thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out just before he can come inside of you. He spills partially onto the bed and partially onto your stomach. When he’s finished, he holds himself up over you avoiding his own release leaking onto you stomach.
When his eyes find yours, he grins, that signature crooked smile appearing onto his face. You can’t help but laugh, your head falling back into the pillow. Felix laughs too. Not because he particularly knows what’s so funny but because you’re laughing.
You’re laughing and he loves you.
He leans over grabbing a tissue from the box beside his bed and wipes you off as best as he can before tossing it onto the floor and laying back down beside you, an arm behind his head You rest your head on his other arm, scooting in closer to his side.
“Are we going to talk about this?” he asks, looking down at you.
You smile to yourself, watching his toes nudge yours instead of looking back at him. “About what?”
“(Y/n), we’ve been friends since grade school and probably kissed a million times.”
Eventually you look up at him, doing your best to not look so sheepish. “Farleigh told me I was worse than Oliver. Can you believe that?”
Felix scoff, his fingers scratching through your hair. “I wouldn’t fuck Oliver.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “Yeah you would.”
Felix barks out a laugh. “Yeah, I would,” he agrees.
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freedomfireflies · 5 months
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Knockout*
Summary: The one where Harry is a handsome stranger who always comes to your diner covered in bruises.
Word Count: 9.4k (jeepers, sorry!)
Content Warning: 18+, smut, slight exhibitionism, very brief violence
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Your stranger is here.
He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.
He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in white gauze, but are stained with streaks of red.
And he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.
A cup of coffee – black – and a slice of pie.
He’s like clockwork. He comes in exactly five minutes after midnight, takes a seat in his booth, and orders his usual.
Then, he pays his bill, and he leaves.
You’ve grown used to him. Comfortable with the idea of his face and his voice and the strange, but unsettling presence he brings with him.
You find that it’s more unnerving when he’s not here than when he is. 
“Hi, Cherry.”
Your stranger’s voice cuts through the quiet diner and forces your attention from the mug of coffee you’re pouring. 
You glance up, finally able to see his face now that he’s lifted his head. His skin is littered with deep cuts and vicious scratches. There’s a bruise just by his eye that’s dissolving into an unsettling shade of purple and his bottom lip is split down the middle.
Even still, he’s smiling. A gentle upturn that looks almost painful given the cracked fibers and dried blood.
“Hi,” you reply softly, feeling your heart race beneath your chest as his eyes find yours. “Would you like your usual?”
Somehow, his grin gets a bit brighter. As though he’s touched by the question. “Of course,” he answers calmly, in a voice you imagine you’d recognize anywhere. It’s deep and sultry, but it crackles like lightning. Sensual in a way you can’t exactly explain. “What have you made tonight?”
“Chocolate,” you tell him, glancing back toward the counter where the pies are displayed. “With extra whipped cream.”
“Mm.” His hum is playful, and it matches the glint in his eye. “How much extra?”
“As much as you want.”
He laughs, and you swear fairies are born. “Then I will have a slice of your chocolate pie, with as much whipped cream as you’ll allow.”
You feel your cheeks warm as you nod and turn on your heel to grab his order. Setting the coffee pot down before grabbing a small plate.
Once it’s ready, you return, sliding it across the table beside his mug. “Is that all?”
“No,” he says simply, gesturing now toward the seat across from him.
And just like every other time, you feel your pulse jump. “I’m…I need to get back—”
“You don’t need to go anywhere,” he interrupts with a wry grin. “Please?”
Your lips roll into your mouth, and your heart lands in your throat. Your stranger has always been good at getting you to do what he’d like, and it seems tonight is no different. 
So, with a sigh, you glance back toward the kitchen. Checking to make sure you aren’t needed too direly before you slip off your apron and slide into the booth.
“There,” he hums, placing his arms on the table to learn forward. “S’much better, hm?”
And you can’t help but smile as you nod and glance toward your cuticles. Avoiding that vivid green that always seems to send your stomach into a frenzy. 
“How are you?” he asks next, and his voice is soft, as if attempting to draw your attention back.
Braving a glance, you lift your head, and meet his eye. “I’m all right. How are you?”
“Good. Better now.”
The flirtatious remark sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. But you don’t respond, instead reaching out your hand toward his. Allowing your fingers to dance along the gauze that’s wrapped around his knuckles. 
“It’s bad again,” you whisper, and you feel him study you. 
There’s a gentle pause. And then, “Not by much. It’s been worse.”
You suck in a quiet breath and hold it deep within your lungs. Turning his arm around in order to inspect the wounds painted near his wrist. “You promised.”
Even without seeing the full of his face, you catch his expression fall. 
“I know, Cherry,” he murmurs. “And I’m trying, I promise. S’just…not that easy.”
Your throat constricts, growing dry from the implication. “I know.”
It’s almost inaudible, but your stranger still hears it, and he sighs as he slips his fingers between yours. Pulling your focus back to him. 
“You know you don’t have to worry about me,” he says, squeezing your palm as if to cement the point. “M’gonna be okay.”
“Are you?”
He looks gutted. Ashamed of your disappointment. “It’s just something that I have to do.”
“Why?”
He considers this before shaking his head once. “I don’t know.”
It’s the same answer every time. You ask him who does this to him. Why he does this to himself. Where he goes, why he keeps going back.
But he never offers anything concrete. Just enough to keep you hoping.
He leans closer. Desperate to make you understand. “I’m gonna be all right, Cherry. I promised, didn’t I?”
“But this isn’t ‘all right,’” you argue quietly, once again studying his scars. “You hurt yourself. Or you let somebody else hurt you. And I don’t know why.”
He takes in a breath before setting it free. “I don’t know why, either. But it’s not forever. And I promised you I would be okay. So, I will be.”
You release him and pull yourself from his grasp. Creating a physical distance much like his emotional one. 
“I have to be,” he adds, and that charming smirk reappears. Popping a dimple from his cheek. “I’d miss your pies too much.”
Even if your insides have twisted, you can’t help but laugh. “I suppose they’d miss you, too.”
“Good, I would hope. Might be my second-favorite sweet thing here. Only after you.”
Again, his coy remark leaves you entranced. Hands gathering on your lap as you look out through the large window beside you. “You’re quite forward tonight.”
“M’forward every night. You just don’t notice.”
“Is that right?”
“It is. Can’t really help myself, Cherry.”
The familiar nickname feels like home. It was coined after the first night he’d come in. He’d sat in your section – this very booth – and made small talk while you served him. 
He asked for your recommendation, and you suggested one of the desserts. The pies were your specialty, and you made a new one every evening. He seemed charmed by this and ordered two slices.
That night was cherry. He ate every bite between sips of his coffee and compliments to you. Leaving nothing but crumbs once you came to collect his plate.
He told you he loved cherry pie. It was his absolute favorite. But he’d never had a pie as good as yours.
And from that night on, you became his Cherry.
He never asked for your real name, and you never offered. You supposed this was intentional. A way to protect you from whatever life he led outside the diner doors.
And in the few weeks he’s been coming back for yet another slice of your pie, you’ve learned only three things about him:
He always pays with big bills.
He drives a vintage, black ’69 Mustang.
And his name is Harry.
Anything past that you suppose isn’t yours to know. Yet despite that, you feel drawn to your stranger. Even if he only seems to exist after midnight.
“You weren’t supposed to be working tonight,” he says, calling your attention back. 
You glance away from the window just in time to see his frown. “Joshua asked me to cover a few of his shifts,” you explain. “I’ll be here through the weekend.”
“You covered him last week,” he reminds you, with just a touch of disapproval. “And a few weekends before that.”
Your stranger is right, but you merely lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t mind. The extra money is nice, and the night shift is always quiet.”
“Not always,” he retorts, and you notice the pull of his eyebrows. “Not everybody is as kind as you, Cher. Not in this part of town. Or this late.”
You can’t help but smile at his need to shelter you. “I know. But Owen is here, and he makes sure to check on me from time to time.”
However, Harry’s expression seems to settle into something hard and unnerved. “And what if he gets distracted? What if he doesn’t see some loser trying to grab for you? Or talk to you? Or take advantage of you?”
His voice is rising, a gentle but obvious crescendo that turns the heads of the few patrons scattered about the diner. 
You reach for his hand once more, squeezing it hard to implore him to listen. “Then I will use my extensive training as a waitress and kick their ass.”
You can tell he doesn’t want to, but he smiles. Brushing his thumb along your wrist before looking down. “I’m only trying to protect you.”
“I know,” you whisper, dipping down in order to find his eye. “But I’m not the one who needs protecting.”
The air is charged with a sort of tension you can’t explain. He feels so close and yet so very far away. Your heart aches for your stranger, and for his scars that never heal.
“Hey,” calls a loud voice, ringing through the small diner until you and Harry both turn. You find a man sitting near the counter, wearing a camouflage baseball hat and flannel shirt. His beard is long and scruffy, and his expression is wildly annoyed. “Do you fucking work here or not? Been waiting on a refill for ten goddamn minutes.”
Feeling rather embarrassed of the way you’ve neglected the other customers and deserted your post, you quickly slide out of the booth and stand. Cheeks warm and heart racing. “Yes, of course. I’m so sorry, sir.”
You rush to check on the coffee pot near the counter, making sure that it’s hot and fresh before you approach. Then, you tip the spout into his mug, and refill his drink that’s already three-fourths of the way full.
You can see Harry watching you from his spot. A similarly irritated look behind his eye as he studies the man sitting before you.
Once the coffee has been refilled, you nod an apology, and begin to retreat.
“Not so fast,” the customer grumbles, clearing his throat as he straightens up. Forcing you to hesitate. “I want my check. And a slice of pie on the house. For my troubles.”
Your heart leaps into your throat, but you nod again. The Starlight Diner doesn’t exactly offer free pastries, and anything that a staff member has to comp comes out of the employee’s paycheck. 
Granted, one slice won’t set you back too far, but the shame will. The idea that you left a customer waiting while you chatted with a man you hardly know. It’s unprofessional and not at all how you’d like to be perceived in the workplace. As a mindless girl who merely doddles her day away. Fawning over handsome strangers and daydreaming about a life she can’t have.
“Absolutely,” you tell him, rushing to grab him a fresh piece just as Harry begins to stand from the booth. “Will that be all?”
“Don’t be stingy with the whipped cream,” he instructs. “In fact, I’d like to see you put it on in front of me. So I can make sure you aren’t trying to fuck me over.”
The blood drains from your face. You feel humiliated under the warm hue of lights strung up around the restaurant. Grabbing the can of whipped topping in a desperate attempt to please and end the interaction all together.
“Why don’t you watch your fucking tone,” Harry grits, approaching the man from his left.
But the customer merely scoffs, refusing to offer him even a disinterested glance. “Yeah, and why don’t you mind your own business?”
Suddenly, Harry’s hand smacks down onto the counter beside him, inches from his plate while the coffee inside his mug trembles.
You can’t help but jump, arm recoiling away from the pie while the entire diner grows quiet. Everybody’s attention has turned to your stranger. Watching him closely as he leans forward, and dips down to catch the man’s eye.
“Wasn’t a question,” he murmurs darkly. “You watch your fucking tone when you speak to her. Or I’ll watch it for you.”
And you can tell the older gentleman is a bit off-put by Harry’s distressing demeanor. Yet he remains rather calm, clearing his throat again before leaning back. “And what are you gonna do about it, cupcake?”
Harry’s head cocks to the side. “Would you like me to show you?”
“Harry,” you whisper, just loud enough to force his eyes to yours. “It’s okay. It’s fine.”
“Yeah, she’s fine, buttercup,” the customer snorts, spinning around to face you once more. “Now let’s go, princess. I don’t have all fucking night.”
His fingers snap together before he points toward the pie. Instructing you to continue applying the fluffy cream until you hesitantly continue.
The whipped desert sprays out of the can in a steady stream, piling higher and higher atop the pie until it begins to spill over onto the side.
Yet he doesn’t stop you. He simply nods and mutters for you to keep going. To fill the plate until he’s satisfied. 
And you know exactly why he’s doing it. Not to satiate a sweet tooth but to demean you. To force you under his cruel, sadistic stare until you fold like a house of cards.
Your stranger fumes from his place a few feet away. You can tell he’s desperate to intervene, but he obeys your look of frantic insistence. Remaining quiet while you oblige the customer’s request. 
Soon, the can runs out. The last few drops spewing from the nozzle until you’re left with nothing but air and an empty bottle.
With a hitch in your breath, you begin to withdraw your hand. He’ll have to drop this degradation act now, and you hope that he only demands the rest of his check before going about his night.
However, before you can fully retract your arm, a collection of grimy fingers dart out and curl around your wrist. Keeping you in place while the man’s eyes narrow and he hisses, “Did I say you could stop?”
But the moment his palm touches your skin, Harry is stepping forward, grabbing a fistful of his collar, and hoisting him from his seat. Then, he shoves him back against the tile wall just behind him, the connection so forceful, it knocks the gentleman’s hat askew.
The other customers, including yourself, gasp from the sudden act of violence. Watching as Harry steps up to him and sneers in his face with the vilest look of disdain you imagine you’ve ever seen.
“Don’t ever…” he seethes through deep, even breaths, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”
And he’s terrifying. So utterly terrifying, with his busted knuckles, his cracked lip, and his bruised jaw. It’s clear he’s a threat, and the man he’s holding goes deathly pale as Harry keeps him trapped against the wall.
All he can do is nod his understanding, choosing to end the fight before it can begin while Harry – after a very long moment – finally lets him go and allows him to flee from the diner.
There’s a stillness in the café that makes your heart race. The few regulars that are left watching on with a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment. It’s not until Harry shoots them their own venomous glare that they quickly turn away and continue on with their meals.
You slump into the counter, letting the can drop to your side while the sound of a door flinging open echoes from somewhere behind you.
“The hell…is going on?” Owen calls, exiting the kitchen in order to get a better look around. He finds you first, raking his stare up and down your frame before looking to Harry. “What happened?”
“You fucking left her out here, alone,” Harry barks. “That’s what fucking happened.”
Owen’s eyebrows raise as he moves his attention to you. But you quickly side-step into Harry’s path, attempting to end another confrontation before it can begin.
“Just…a customer,” you finally answer softly, reaching for the plate in order to clear your regret away. “It’s fine. He left.”
Your boss nods once. “But he paid first, yes?”
Again, your heart sinks into your toes. Lashes fluttering when you realize his bill will be coming out of your paycheck. “He…um, no, he…he left before I could collect it—”
“Darling,” Owen sighs, and it’s heavy with disappointment, “what did we talk about?”
“I…I know. I’ll…I’ll pay for it—"
Harry’s palm suddenly smacks down onto the counter for a second time this evening. Yet now, there’s a wad of cash beneath his hand. From the looks of it, well over a hundred dollars.
“This will cover it,” he mumbles, turning his unforgiving stare to your boss. “And it’ll cover the rest of her shift, too. She’s done.”
With that, his fingers are wrapping around your upper arm before you can even wrap your head around his offering. Blinking wildly while Owen glances from the cash to you in an effort to piece together Harry’s instruction.
 But your stranger leaves you no room for questioning or bargaining. He’s pulling you out the diner door and into the dark parking lot before you can even bid your boss goodbye.
He strides between the cars before hooking a left around the building. Leading you toward the back alleyway where he normally keeps his car, the wet pavement squeaking beneath his sneakers.
 And during this fervent stalking, his fingers slide down from your upper arm and into your hand. Grasping it tightly as if to make sure he won’t lose you.
Perhaps a part of you would like to feel miffed or ashamed of what just took place, but you can’t seem to fault him for his reaction. He’s always been nothing but kind to you – even if he doesn’t always lend that kindness to others. Expressing his desire to protect you, even if he doesn’t know you.
You wonder if this need to defend is part of the reason why you’ve only ever seen him covered in scars and bruises. If he comes to the diner in the dead of night in order to watch over you. Like a guardian angel or vigilante. 
Right now, however, he disappears into the shadows, gently pulling you along with him until you see his car only a few feet away. He releases you at the same time that he releases a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark curls as his hood is pushed down. 
“Harry…” you begin quietly, tentative of startling him.
“I’m sorry,” he says before you can even finish. “M’sorry, I lost my temper. I know.”
You watch the way he turns away from you. Bracing himself against the hood of the Mustang while dropping his head in what you only assume is remorse.
And your heart aches for him. For the gentleman that lives beneath the outlaw. “Harry,” you whisper again, stepping closer in order run your fingers down his back. Feeling the way his muscles tense before melting beneath your touch. “I’m not mad, I promise.”
“I know you don’t like it when I interfere,” he mumbles, and it’s almost swept away by the cold, early morning air. “But he fucking touched you, and I—”
“I know,” you interrupt tenderly. “I know, and I’m not mad. I’m glad you did it. I’m glad you were here.”
He hesitates, face turning toward his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You allow your chest to meet his spine. “Always feel safer with you.”
He exhales deeply, releasing something heavy before he’s turning around, and reaching for your cheeks. The soft, stained gauze slides against your skin, and his touch is firm. Keeping you in his embrace while he gazes at you warmly. 
“Are you all right, Cherry?” he asks now, thumbs sweeping beneath your eyes. “Did he hurt you?”
Your head shakes. “No. Scared me a little, but I’m okay.”
It’s clear he doesn’t like this, that familiar frown reforming as he holds you a bit tighter. “He never should have spoken to you like that. Much less put his fucking hands on you—”
“I know, but it’s okay,” you interject again, hoping to ease his stress. “I’m okay because you were here.”
And this is the only thing that seems to calm him. That familiar smile of his the perfect remedy for such a strange night. You don’t want to tell him how often this happens. Especially during the later shift. But that’s what you get for working at a 24-hour diner, and you’re starting to think this is merely part of the job.
And truth be told…you think he already knows.
His forehead meets yours, and you can’t help but grin yourself. Grateful for the comfort he provides – stranger or not.
“Speaking of which…why are you here?” you ask gingerly. “I thought you didn’t come in on my days off?”
“I don’t. But…I saw your car.”
“Oh…how?”
His smirk transforms into something coy. “I was driving by.”
“Oh, really?” you tease. “On purpose?”
The smile slips now, a more reverent look in his eye as he nods. “I like to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”
And maybe in any other universe, this would strike you as odd. Perhaps even unsettling or disconcerting. 
But even if you don’t know him, you know him. You know his intentions have only ever been pure, and even without having much more than his name, he has always made you feel safe. 
You choose to believe in him. In the goodness of your stranger and the care he provides. Inside and out.
“You do?” you murmur, allowing your hands to rest on his chest. “How often?”
A beat. Then, “…every night.”
The alley grows quiet. Scattered streetlamps reflect off the pools of water that are sprinkled across the cement, warming the dark night with their sepia-toned beams.
And you stand there, just you and him, while the weight of the world seems to rest on his shoulders.
But instead of chastising him or asking any further questions, you push yourself up onto your tiptoes…and kiss him.
It’s not the first kiss you’ve shared, and you know, undoubtedly, that it won’t be your last. Your stranger has been stealing your kisses for weeks now.
And you suppose stealing isn’t exactly a fair comparison. After all, you’ve nearly pleaded with him to kiss you every time he’s come in. 
Not that there’s much need for begging when he’s so willing to offer them to you. Sneaking you away the moment your shift is through. Chasing you through the parking lot…pulling you into the backseat of his car.
It makes you giddy. You feel like a schoolgirl with a crush on the handsome senior. Slipping into the shadows where he waits. Letting him hold you, kiss you, touch you.
It doesn’t matter if you don’t know more than his name or what he does behind closed doors. You choose to share these special – albeit somewhat scandalous – moments with the mysterious gentleman in booth 505.
“My sweet girl,” he breathes against your lips. The wonderfully delicious nickname melting on your tongue. “Missed you.”
You want to remind him that it’s only been about two days, but you can’t. Because you missed him, too.
“And m’so sorry,” he says next, trailing his quick but fervent kisses down your neck. “So fucking sorry for being so bad. Never wanna scare you or make you anxious.”
A soft, delicate noise bleeds from your throat, and you cling to his much stronger frame as though you’re afraid you’ll simply disappear without him.
“Wanna make it up to you,” he whispers. “Will you let me, Cherry? Let me be good again?”
You nod, needing him to keep himself as close to you as he’ll allow. You want to settle him in your lungs, keep him snug inside in your chest. Against your heart.
And a large part of you just wants to keep him…always.
“Let me make it better,” he says, hands dropping to your hips in order to push you toward his car. Placing you against the door in order to trap you and deepen his kiss. “Let me be good, sweet girl. Be good for you.”
And he’s always good. Good to you, good for you. It doesn’t matter how he is with everybody else. 
“Please?” he asks again, leaning back just far enough to catch your eye. “Will you let me?”
He wants your explicit consent. Wants you to say the words before he continues, and you appreciate this stricter habit. 
“Yes,” you manage to answer, exhaling the word with the little strength you still possess. “Yes, please—”
He takes your hand before you can finish, guiding you over toward the backseat before swinging the door open and stepping aside.
“Lay down, baby,” he mumbles gently, pressing a kiss to the side of your head while guiding you in. “On your back, okay? Want you comfy.”
You do as instructed, dipping down into the vehicle before settling into the soft, leather seat. Flipping over until you can find a position you like. 
Harry is quick to follow, landing between your thighs before pulling the door shut. You both maneuver until he can hover his body above yours, keeping you beneath him as he runs a palm up the side of your leg.
His warm hand feels good against your bare skin, the dress you’re required to wear as part of your waitressing uniform bunching just at the top of your knees from the new position. But it’s like ecstasy, heating up your goose bumped skin from the nippy air outside. 
“How’s this, hm?” He squeezes your hip. “You all right, Cher?”
You rest your head against the door and nod, fingers already itching to reach for him again. “Yes, I’m okay.”
“Promise?”
“Mhm. Promise.”
The side of his mouth curls up, and it makes your stomach flutter. “Good girl. Gonna go slow, okay? Earn my forgiveness.”
He continues the lazy strokes to your thigh, falling all the way down to your ankle before going back up. It is slow, and it almost drives you mad. Because he knows what you want. And he knows just how badly you want it.
Things with Harry never go further than you. Something you’re almost tempted to find odd, but he’s a giver. That was made clear from the first time. He derives more pleasure out of your orgasms than he apparently does his own. He only ever wants to touch you, taste you, feel you. It’s never about him. 
You often wonder if there’s a deeper reason for this. If he’s denying himself release on purpose or if he’s merely terrified of getting close. And occasionally you wonder if he simply just doesn’t want to fuck you, but something tells you that’s not the case.
Maybe one day you’ll be brave enough to ask.
Tonight, however, it seems he’s still determined to put the attention on you. Long fingers gently scratching at your leg until you shiver. It makes him grin.
“Can I see you, baby?” he asks softly, letting his eyes trail beneath the hem of your dress. “See how pretty you are?”
Again, you can only whine pitifully as you motion your head up and down quickly. Wanting to succumb to his strong touch. Only feeling grounded if he’s there to hold you.
“Thank you, sweet girl,” he breathes, using his scarred hands to push your outfit up a bit higher. Revealing your quivering stomach and the delicate pair of panties around your hips. 
They’re nothing special. In fact, you imagine they’re rather embarrassing. A simple, tan fabric that does absolutely nothing to make your pussy look more desirable. 
Perhaps it’s a little silly, but you like to look nice for him. On the nights you know he might be coming to see you (which has been every night you’ve worked since you met), you tend to pick prettier pairs. 
Some with lace, some with little bows. Sweeter colors, sexier colors. Anything that might make him smile.
But you hadn’t anticipated seeing him tonight, and now, you almost want to shy away. Lashes fluttering as you look up toward the roof of his car.
But he doesn’t seem to notice. Nor does he seem to care about the color around your waist, his eyes growing wide as his attention glues to the mesmeric sight before him. Pink, bruised lips parting with wonder while he moves closer. 
“Cherry,” he exhales, the feel of his breath sweeping against your bent knee, “missed you so much. Been forever, hm?”
You nod again, braving another glance just in time to see his hand lower. And then you feel him. Feel his thumb pressing gently into the front of your underwear, just above where your clit lies.
Your entire body seems to spark to life like the flicker of a flame. And you gasp, subtly bucking up into his touch in search of more. In search of him.
He smiles. “S’it feel good, honey?”
You let out a soft breath, chest nearly caving in as you whisper, “Harry…”
He looks up, eyes flicking to yours as that coy smirk grows. “What, baby? You okay?”
Of course you’re okay. He knows you’re okay, but you’ve noticed he likes to hear you say it. He likes to know he’s making it better for you. That he’s helping, that he’s doing good.
When you don’t answer, he returns to your pussy, fingers strumming up and down your covered cunt like he’s playing an instrument. Tuning your body to his needs. 
“Can I touch you?” he asks now, dipping down to nudge his nose beneath your jaw. Pressing a soft kiss to your throat. “Wanna touch you…be good for you, Cher. Was so bad…just wanna make it better.”
He’s attempting to atone for what he did in the diner. To apologize, offer his remorse.
And even if you know he has nothing to apologize for, you can’t find it in you to deny him. Reaching up to tangle your fingers in his curls as you tug him closer. Kissing him fiercely.
He’s hard on himself. You know he is. You don’t know why. You don’t know what the cause is. But you can see the repercussions. They’re painted all over his body, and he wears them proudly. 
He curses against your mouth, and you’re reminded then of his busted lip. Instantly pulling away while you mumble an apologetic, “I’m sorry. I forgot—”
“No,” he nearly groans, slipping his other hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind, I promise. I like it.”
His kisses become hard again. Anxious, desperate, and rushed. As though he needs you in order to survive. His nose knocking into yours from the way he readjusts himself. Wanting to take you deeper, really taste you. 
You’ve never been so happy in your life.
He only pulls away in order to slip your panties down your thighs, pushing them to your ankles until he can really see you.
His entire expression softens the moment his eyes find you. Filled with a certain kind of hope and indulgence as he gazes at you almost tenderly. Unable to resist reaching out and letting his finger brush down your folds. 
You make another noise, but he doesn’t notice this one. Too content to be touching you. Feeling you. Spreading you open just to watch you drip.
“So fucking good to me,” he murmurs. “You know that, sweet girl? So perfect for me. Exactly what I need and far more than I deserve.”
You aren’t sure what he means, but the implication makes you frown. Pulling on his hair a bit harder while he moves to your clit and begins to press down.
The pressure of his thumb against the more sensitive nerves leaves you breathless. Squirming beneath him from the rush of pleasure that only serves in making you needier. 
“Always so warm,” he muses quietly. Almost as if to himself. “So soft. So sweet. Can’t ever get enough of you.”
It makes your head spin the way he seems to adore you. The way he talks about your body as if he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to behold it. To feel it, to get to indulge in it. Worshiping you like you’re his religion.
He begins to rub your clit in slow, teasing circles. Kissing you once more in order to taste your whines and feed off your desperation. Wet noises fill the car. Not just from your pussy, but from his frantic kisses that echo between the foggy windows. 
It makes you shiver, loving the way he nips at your bottom lip just to leave you restless. The way he whispers your nickname before moving to your neck, pulling your skin between his teeth and smoothing over the mark with his tongue.
He goes faster. Chasing after your whimpers and the way you arch your body into his. Loving how excitable you get from only a few flicks of his thumb across your sensitive clit.
Then, he slows down. Exhaling a heavy breath as if bracing himself to edge you. Like it hurts him more than it hurts you.
And you mewl pitifully as you cling to his broader frame and tug him down into your arms. “Harry—”
“I know,” he coos, and it’s gentle the way he speaks. Sympathetic almost. “I know, sweet girl. But m’not done with you yet. Just wanna keep you a little longer. Is that okay?”
You bury your face in his neck and make another noise. Something akin to his name that gets lost in the way he curses.
“It’s okay,” he tries again, allowing you to use his body like a lifeline. “I’ve got you, baby. All right? M’right here, I’ve got you.”
He proves this by resuming his sweet torture. Circling the nerves a time or two more before moving down. Smoothing through your folds and lowering toward the pooling of arousal that waits for him. 
You hear him hum. “So precious. S’this all for me, then? Mine to play with? Mine to taste?”
You whine, “Yes, yes, yes,” as quickly as your mouth will permit, and he chuckles. 
The tip of his finger dips inside, presumably to collect everything you have to offer him before he’s lifting it toward his lips.
And you settle back against the door to watch. Enchanted by the way he places you on his tongue and sucks. His lashes fluttering and cheeks flushing from the taste.
You don’t imagine you’ll ever get used to watching him do that. After all, you’ve never been particularly…unbothered by the idea of somebody tasting you. Not even with past partners. You get too caught up in your own head. Worried about the taste, the feel, the smell.
Truth be told, most of the men you’ve been with before were never interested in you. They wanted what you could give them. And then they wanted out.
By all accounts, Harry is nothing like anyone else you’ve ever known. Not just because of the mystery that follows his persona, but because of his endless attention to you. To what you need, what makes you feel good. 
He devotes every second to making you feel like you’re God’s gift to Earth. A gift to him. Praising you for simply existing. Indulging in your taste as though you're the sweetest dessert he’s ever had.
Like now, while a deep moan reverberates from the depths of his chest. Filling the car and your ears like music, making your thighs clench around his hips.  
“S’why I call you my sweet girl, you know that?” he murmurs, sucking on his fingers until you’re sure there’s nothing left. And even then some. “So fucking sweet for me. Can’t ever get enough. Gonna get me addicted, baby. Might already have.”
The moment he takes his hand back out, you’re lifting up, and pressing your mouth to his. And you don’t even care if you can taste yourself on his tongue because all you really taste is him.
But the mixture of him, and you, and the slight tang of blood from the busted fibers of his lip is euphoric. Strange but lovely in a way you hadn’t anticipated. 
He seems to understand this despondency, growing a bit more frantic in his need to please. No longer focused on edging as he drops his fingers back to your cunt while his other hand moves for the buttons on your chest.
He pops them free one by one until your equally plain bra is revealed to him. But again, he doesn’t take notice of such things. Instead swallowing thickly at the sight of your breasts that swell behind the cups.
He kisses you again. And again, and again. Then he moves to your cheek and down your neck. Trailing his tongue toward your collarbone and along your sternum. 
You feel restless. Waiting for something – for him. You already know how magical his touch is. You already know the kind of pleasure he provides, and it nearly drives you mad to simply sit in anticipation. Stuck on his time.
Eventually he reaches your chest, lips moving for the curve of your tit before he’s making another noise and sucking into the tender flesh. Nipping at it, pulling it between hungry teeth. Smoothing over the marks with the warmth of his mouth while you reel.
Your hands disappear back into his hair. Stroking the curls almost fondly, nails lightly scratching at his scalp.
He’s always seemed to enjoy this. Instructing that you pull on him as hard as you’d like. That you tug and scratch. That you use him to inflict your pain and your pleasure. That you think of him first and foremost.   
Now is no different. He nuzzles himself further into your breasts while simultaneously sighing with contentment at the way your hand feels against his head. The way you keep him close to your heart. 
You’d keep him forever if you could.
You hardly even notice the way his finger has slipped inside. The way it strokes your delicate walls that flutter from the intrusion, tensing before relaxing in order to allow him in.
“There,” he whispers, pleased with the way your body obeys him. “S’okay. Gonna make it better. I promise.”
And you know he will.
“So tight today, baby,” he says, leaving another kiss to the swell of your chest. Open-mouthed and messy. “Has it been that long?”
You don’t know. You can’t remember the last time he touched you, although you’re almost sure it hasn’t been more than a week. The two of you have become rather insatiable for each other. Chasing after a kind of release you only seem to find within the hands of the other.
Those beautiful green eyes flitter up to yours, studying you closely. Benevolently. “Have you not been taking care of yourself, sweet girl?”
You take a moment to consider what he means before you feel your cheeks warm. Offering him nothing more than a quick shake of your head.
He frowns, brows pulling together. “Why not, hm? Thought you promised you’d try for me. Help make things better when I’m not around.”
You shrug, growing a touch embarrassed. “I know, but…it’s not the same. Don’t like it.”
“Is that right?”
Another shake. “Get bored.”
“Bored,’ he repeats, and there’s a certain glint in his eye. But instead of disappointed, he seems empathetic. “Cause it’s not the same, yeah? Your fingers too small?”
Now you nod, making a noise of agreement. 
He nods along with you, beginning to smirk. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Bet it’s just so frustrating, isn’t it? Trying to find all your sweet, little spots, but just not quite being able to reach?”
You cling to him as he stretches you a bit further. Doing everything you can’t do for yourself. Effortlessly curling his finger into that one spot until you begin to shake.
“Just like that, hm?” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your collarbone. “S’that what you can’t find, baby? S’that what’s so achy?”
And it is. It’s so infuriatingly sore that it almost makes you cry. Wishing you could chase after that feeling until your heart gives out. 
“I bet.” More kisses to your chest. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna fix it, okay? Make it all better again.”
“Please?” you whimper, nails scratching down his broad back. Attempting to pull him closer. 
“Mhm.” He leans forward and brings his lips to yours now. His kiss quick but full of promise. “Always gonna take care of you.”
He begins to thrust the longer digit in and out. Slow enough to work you up but fast enough to leave you wanting more. Coaxing the muscles open before bringing a second finger into play.
The sounds of your wetness being pushed and pulled by his hand are sinful. Sending a chill down your spine and directly into your cunt.
You moan when you feel them, writhing a bit beneath his body until he has to press his leg into yours to keep you still.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he mumbles. Leaving another kiss below your jaw. “Know you can take it, baby. You always do. Don’t you?”
And even if that’s true, you aren’t opposed to the slight sting. Instead invigorated by it and the way he uses great care with you. Wanting to make sure you’re all right so he can please you the way he wants.
Yet somehow, it’s still not enough. Even with the way he curls, and pumps, and thrusts those beautiful digits into your pussy, you feel empty. Barely scratching the surface of that itch as he presses his chest to yours to calm you.
Your noises are becoming more pathetic. Your entire being heaving with the weight of promised pleasure in a way you can’t seem to understand.
His thumb presses into your clit every few minutes, attempting to guide you closer to your release, and it works. The combination making your stomach coil until you nearly see stars. Every cell in your body tightening.
“You close, Cherry?” His free hand moves for your face. Palm pressing into your jaw as the bandage on his knuckles sweeps across your cheek. “Hm? You gonna cum for me?”
And you are. You are, you are. You can almost taste it. Can feel it bubbling up from between your thighs, ready to unravel like the seams on your favorite sweater. 
“Yes,” you gasp, arching from the leather seat. “Yes, please…please don’t stop. Please—”
“Won’t stop,” he promises in a soothing tone, lips ghosting atop yours. “Never stop, I promise. M’gonna be right here until you do, okay? Go ahead. I’ve got you.”
And this is all you need. It happens suddenly and yet far too slowly. Pulling you apart from the inside out. 
You moan so loud, your chest shakes. Eyes rolling back and nails scratching down his spine as it hits you. 
Instantly, he moves his hand from your jaw to your lips. Palm pressing hard against your mouth in order to silence you as he whispers, “Shh, baby. Gotta be quiet for me, okay? It’s okay, you’re all right. Just let go—"
And you do. Allow your body to deplete itself of all energy as he works you through every goddamn second. Dragging it out as far as it’ll go. Increasing the speed of his flicks and thrusts. Pumping your orgasm out of you until it sits in his waiting hand.
“Good,” he breathes before finally removing his hand in order to kiss you quickly. Fingers squeezing the back of your neck as he brings you closer. “So fucking good, there you go. S’okay. Keep going, come on.”
And it’s so good, so wonderful. You feel like you’re floating, high up into the clouds. You decide then that he must be an angel, carrying you in his wings and setting you on a sunset.
But you’re still squirming, seemingly discontented, and he notices far too easily. “You okay, Cher?”
“More,” you whisper faintly. “More…please…”
“More,” he echoes. “My sweet girl wants more. More what, hm? What do you need?”
“More,” is all you say. Once again wiggling your hips down as if to sink his fingers in further. “More, Harry, please.”
“Oh. You want another one. Is that it?”
You nod silently, too strung-out to think in coherent sentences.
He chuckles again, kissing your other cheek before pinching your chin. “All right. Give you as many as you want, baby.”
Feeling incredibly grateful, you allow your trembling limbs to fall slack. Once again settling beneath him as he works to get you to your second.
But even as he resumes the languid but practiced thrusts of his fingers, you feel unsatiated. Eager for something else, but you aren’t sure what.
He realizes before you do. “S’not enough, is it?” he coos. “Need something bigger, don’t you?” 
That’s what it is, and you nod eagerly as your nails scratch down the sleeves of his hoodie. 
“Think you can take something bigger? Think you can take another finger, baby?”
Another nod. Faster, more fervent. Eyes pleading with him to give you anything he has to offer.
He obliges this, glancing down before lining his fingers up, and slowly slipping all three inside.
This stretch is a bit more prominent. He’s deliberately gentle, never giving you more than he assumes you can handle. 
And he watches you closely. Searching for any grimaces or winces of discomfort. 
When he finds none, he seems relieved, kissing up from your chest to your throat once more. “Good girl. There you go.”
You begin to writhe a little more ardently until he has to bring his other hand to your knee in order to press it down into the seat. Keeping you spread and still until you settle.
“Easy,” he coos gently, placing some of his weight onto your thigh. “Gonna have to be good, baby, and relax for me. Let me make you feel good, okay?”
You want to obey. You do, really. But the overstimulation and sensitivity from your first orgasm is almost too much. Making you choke on the heated air until you can hardly breathe.
“Like it when I take care of you, don’t you?” he asks you now. Licking a stripe along your jaw. “Like it when I steal you away from them?”
He’s right, you do. Perhaps you shouldn’t, but there’s something about the way he makes you feel as though you deserve more than this. As though you’re meant for more than the diner. He makes you feel invincible.
“Maybe one day I’ll take you away,” he decides. “Fucking take you from them and make you mine. Forever. For always.”
And you decide you like the sound of that.
Another moment of his strenuous torture passes before he leans back to watch. And you notice something in his face. Utter fascination and lust over the way your body bends to his will. Over the way it stretches around his fingers, the way he pulls it open.
He releases a deep, coarse groan through clenched teeth. Fixated on the way his fingers disappear into your pussy. “Taking me so well, baby. Know you’d take my cock, too, wouldn’t you?”
You whimper miserably, undone by the thought. You can’t deny that you’ve wondered what he’d feel like. All of him, stretching you open. Fucking into you while leaving you a panting mess.
You often imagine what he’s like in bed. In an actual bed and not in the backseat of his car or yours. What he might be like when he’s truly lost himself to the pleasure. Guiding his hips to yours, bending you into a hundred and one positions meant just for his indulgence. 
You wonder if he’d be just as careful as he is now. Just as devoted to you. If he’d be hard and fast or soft and slow. If he has dirty kinks, secret fantasies. If he likes the lights on or off. If he likes the bed or if he likes it up against the wall. 
You hope one day you get to find out. 
“Think you would, yeah?” he continues, sliding his digits all the way to the knuckle. The fibers of the gauze brushing against your clit. “Know you would. Be so good for me. This sweet little pussy would treat me so well, wouldn’t it?”
You nod quickly, pouting at him anxiously.
“I know,” he tuts, finally leaning back over to kiss you again. “Know you’d be such a good girl for me. Let me work you open until you could fit me…let me stretch you just right.”
You reach out for his wrist in search of something to squeeze, and it makes him chuckle. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip until you moan.
“Might take a while,” he muses. “Might take hours. Days. I’ll have to just keep you in my bed until you can fit me, hm?”
He attempts to pull away, but you chase after him. Looping an arm around his neck in order to yank him back to you. 
His smirk feels good against your lips. “M’not going anywhere, sweet girl. Just like to watch you. Bet it’d be fun to watch you take my cock, wouldn’t it? Watch it sink right into this tight little hole.”
He’s evil. Absolutely sadistic and it makes you groan against his tongue until he has to soothe you.
“I know, baby. One day,” he breathes. “I promise. M’gonna take you away and do it right. Make it worth it.”
The thrusting of his fingers becomes more poignant. Enough to drive a plethora of desperate moans from your chest as he nuzzles his nose below your jaw and simply breathes.
“Gonna worship you. Give you everything you deserve.” He sucks in a quiet inhale before dancing his lips along your throat. “Have you sit on my face until I can’t breathe.”
The image has your eyes rolling back. Even if you aren’t sure you’d ever feel comfortable doing so, you’re enamored by the idea. Of the thought of him holding onto your thighs, pressing you down to his mouth. Completely controlling you. 
“Can never breathe when I’m with you, anyway,” he whispers, and you almost don’t catch it. You wonder if you were meant to. “M’gonna do it right, sweet girl. I promise.”
And this is the vow that pulls you through to the other side. Large digits curling up into that one spot that makes your legs shake and you’re falling apart for the second time.
But he still doesn’t stop. Stroking, pressing, pumping even after the tears have begun to slip from your eye. 
“Keep going, there you go. Does it feel good? Feel so good, cumming all over my hand?”
And it does, but you can’t exactly answer. Can’t seem to do anything but cry out as you ride the wave and his fingers as though your life depends on it.
“Doing so good,” he murmurs gently, raising up to kiss you once more. Swallowing your pitiful mewling. “So fucking good, baby. M’so proud of you. Took me so well. So beautiful when you cum, Cherry, you know that? Could watch you forever.”
The sentiment makes your entire body grow warm. You’ve always wondered what you might look like when you orgasm, and truth be told, you imagine it’s not very pretty.
But to hear him say it now – so earnestly – makes your stomach wrench. Nails curling into the seat below as you lift off the leather and knock your chest into his.
He holds you as tight as he can before slowly pulling his fingers out. Relieving you from the overstimulation before putting you back in his mouth. Sucking until a string of saliva drips down his into the gauze on his knuckles. Painting it a much prettier picture than the red has.
After swelling every drop of you with a lewd groan, he finally pulls his hand out, and takes you into his arms. Kissing you through the remnants of the blissful rush.
“So good,” he says again, face burying back into your neck while stroking your thigh with his soaked fingers. “Always make me so proud.”
Your limbs tangle with his as you both slouch into the backseat. Allowing your heart beats to synchronize into one, steady rhythm. 
And once they have, you begin to grin. “Harry?”
“Mm?”
“Thank you.”
He exhales a soft laugh before leaning back onto his knees to get a good look at you. “What for, sweet girl?”
“Just for…this, I suppose,” you mumble shyly. “For all of it. Tonight. Standing up for me and…you know, this part.”
His chuckle becomes a bit more smug. “Are you thanking me for making you cum?”
“I’m…trying. I think.”
“Hm.” His grin is playful and so damn charming as he dips back down to hover his lips near yours. “Don’t have to thank me, Cherry. Believe me. It’s my pleasure.”
His teasing remark makes you giggle, and you kiss him hard before he has the chance to leave you again.
You kiss for a while. A long while. Until you can hardly breathe, your muscles beginning to ache and your eyelids beginning to grow heavy from the lack of sleep in this early morning hour. 
It’s not until you actually yawn that Harry finally remembers to pull himself away and reach for the panties around your ankles. “Shit, it’s late, isn’t it? Know I’ve kept you longer than I should have.”
With a quick shake of your head, you push up onto your elbows. “No. I’m fine, I promise. Just…cumming makes me sleepy, I guess. And you’re so warm. It’s nice.”
This makes him smile again, and that dimple of his makes your heart ache. “You know I’d keep you in this car until the sun came up if I could.”
“I know.” Your fingers outstretch for his hoodie, tangling into the material on his stomach while he guides your underwear back up around your hips. “Maybe one day, yeah?”
His expression softens, and you almost swear you see a flash of sadness behind that sage green. “Yeah. Maybe.”
It’s quiet as you rebutton your dress and pull the hem back down. And even quieter as Harry opens the door and slips out of the car, extending his hand toward you in order to help you out as well.
But once you’ve straightened up and turned to face him, you see that something has changed. A look of longing that hadn’t been there before etched between those scarred features.
His thumb brushes just beneath your eye and then down to your lips. Tracing the lines and dips before he sighs and cradles your cheek in his palm. “Are you gonna be all right?”
You place your hand over his and squeeze. “Are you?”
Another deep breath. Heavier and more forlorn. “You know I’ll try.”
“Promise?”
His forehead meets yours, and you both still. “I promise.”
And you choose to believe him.
You say goodbye, and regretfully let him go. Shaky legs carrying you back to your car as his eyes follow you all the way. Making sure you get there safely before you take off down the road and leave him behind.
A few nights later, you’re back for your next shift. And truth be told, you’re almost excited. Because having to go so long without him feels like a form of punishment. Like your days aren’t nearly as bright without him. And neither are your nights.
You can’t help but count the seconds as you go about your evening. Unable to distract yourself with the pastries no matter how hard you try. Thoughts drifting back to those chocolate curls and that devilish smile.
When midnight strikes, you feel relieved. Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as you grab your notepad and slip out of the kitchen. Ready to greet him in his favorite booth.
But the moment you slip past the door, you find that the diner is empty. Not a single customer to greet you as you scan the floor in search of that familiar face. Even a glimpse of his shoes or the sound of his voice.
But the booth is empty, the diner is quiet, and it’s 12:06. 
Your stranger isn’t here.
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I know not too much has happened yet but we are building up to tons more smut and plot and angst and fluff, I swear!! 😭💞
Next Part:
~ Whiplash*
~ Main Masterlist
~ Blurb Masterlist
Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge
4K notes · View notes
sugar-coated-slut · 5 months
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𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚; 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cam girl!!reader, gangbang, bondage, fingering, face fucking, dacryphilia, choking you with their cocks, light anal with a tip dragon’s tongue, taking nude pictures, degradation/praise/light mocking, pain kink, biting, toji slaps your face with his cock, begging, bdsm
oreo: couldn't stop thinking about this idea of them finding out reader is a cam girl and filming with her, I’m thinking of making this a mini series of them filing various acts with the reader, y’all down for that?
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The dark red rope binding your wrists to your ankles, strapped and held apart by a short bar. Looping over your shoulders forcing your back into an arch, keeping your head up. You're vulnerable and small surrounded by five massive men.
He glances at the stream's rising numbers, two hundred becoming five becoming one thousand. “Damn these people are fast n' horny, did y’all miss your -what is it-" he smirks, "Princess Buttercup that much?”
Glancing at the chat, gushing in their excitement already suggesting various things for the group to do to you. Toji reads aloud, “Thought she filmed alone only? Release the princess at once?" Wiggling his phone at the camera. "The fuck is this bullshit? I'm cummin' in her cunt and then again on her face 'cause fuck you.” Slapping your ass, tossing his phone onto the middle of the bed.
"More!" Your body lurches forward with the force of Toji's next slap. Crying Satoru stuffs his veiny cock deep into your mouth, choking you. Quickly pumping his hips, his balls hitting your chin.
Satoru croons “Ya'll hear that? Our demanding bratty Princess wants more.” Gliding his cock out. "Tell everyone in chat what you want us to do to you.” Stroking his cock, coaxing out thick pre cum he smears on your lips.
Licking the pre-cum off your lips, looking up at Satoru. "Anything ya'll want, fuck whatever hole you want! Please I wanna be y’all’s cum dump!" Sticking your tongue out, moaning when he stuffs his veiny cock deep into your mouth.
Choso slides two thick fingers along your lips, wetting his fingers. “Let the audience know our safe word, and color system to ease anyone’s worry.” Smearing your slick onto your puffy, sensitive clit. Gently swirling his thumb around your tight hole.
Satoru loudly moans, fucking your mouth with deep, quick strokes. His balls hit your chin. "Nnn fuckin' slut, your mouth is so fucking wet and hot. Your lips are so damn beautiful wrapped around my cock. Nn that's it, beautiful slut." Groaning on his cock, another warm fatter cockhead nudges your cheek smearing pre-cum.
Satoru slips his cock out with a loud pop. "It's mocha to start aftercare, red for a break, yellow for slow down, green for good." Turning your head, mouth open, tongue out, eager to suck on the cock next to you. Taking Sukuna's thicker cock with a moan, his thick cock muffling the sound. A puffy vein glides along your soft tongue with each quick rough thrust.
Choso gently nudging past your lips. You'd moan from the pleasure of his thick fingers filling you up. "Good girl, your cunt's so tight n soft 'round my fingers." Gradually pumping his fingers faster, curling them. Your cunt clenching when he brushes your sweet spot.
Sukuna glides his cock out; you don't have time to catch your breath before Satoru stuffs his cock in. Your computer reads out. "Cumguzzler3 donates 600: white haired one moans like a whore, what's his channel. Or will this become a group channel, I'd pay to see ya'll using her as the house’s glory hole."
Followed by; "Dopedaddy42069 donated 1k: Any1 who cums in her ass gets 2k. She started experimenting with her ass. She has several drawers full of toys; u can find something." You hear a few drawers open.
Suguru wonders, "What should be the first thing we stuff up her ass?" The bed shifts when Toji gets up, joining Suguru by your large drawer. He pulls out a part of a dragon's mouth. Open with its long thick tongue slimming down to a small point. Ridges on the bottom offer another challenge besides the tongue's thickness.
Holding it up between Suguru and himself. "What 'bout this thing? Wonder how deep our pretty whore can take it." Suguru grabs the lube, squirting a generous amount onto the tongue's small tip. Toji smears it down its thickening length, walking over back to where you're hogtied at the edge of your bed.
Satoru and Sukuna are taking turns with fucking your mouth. Choso is restlessly stroking your sweet spot. Trembling, unable to close to legs or twist your hips away. You haven't even cummed yet the pleasure is too intense.
Suguru grabs the camera off its stand, "We have to take turns holding the camrea, I want to be able to jerk off to this later without ya'lls pale ass cheeks getting in the way from it being on a stand still." Your eyes are burning with tears when Satoru pulls his cock out.
You're gasping for air, your lungs burning, a few tears trickling down your cheeks. Sukuna fists his cock faster, your cunt clenching from the slick sound. “Aw our slut is cryin’ already!” He glides his thumb over his head, smearing pre-cum over his head. Sticking your tongue out for Sukuna to easily fuck your mouth.
Satoru suggests, "Let's take a few pictures, I want to change out my Home Screen and background. " He gets his phone, passing Sukuna's to him. He grabs a handful of your hair, holding your head still forcing his thick, veiny cock deep into your mouth.
Holding still with his cock stuffed deep, your nose touching the short dark patch of hair above his cock. Flashes go off as Satoru and Sukuna take pictures. "Dommymommy09 donated 600: post the pictures I'll pay more for them."
You’re getting off on how their taking pictures as you’re cumming on Choso’s thick fingers, with your mouth stuffed full of Sukuna’s cock. So many people are watching, touching themselves, wishing they could be you in between five beautiful, horny, muscular men.
Choso slips his phone out of his gym shorts. Recording the mess of your beautiful cunt getting sloppier. "She's gonna be on the verge of passing out when we are done with her." Choso roughly bites your cheek, groaning when you cry around Sukuna's cock.
Kissing the sharply stinging when before fully pulling away. Slapping your ass, Sukuna glides his cock out, the soft ridge of his head dragging along your tongue. Swirling your tongue around him when he pauses. “Fuck that’s it, cock hungry slut suckin’ on me like that.” Loosening his hold on your hair, letting you bob your head. Spit dripping down your chin.
Choso glides his fingers out, sticking them in his mouth sucking them clean. Suguru gets behind you, giving everyone a close up of your sloppy cunt. Spreading your lips apart. “Look at her poor little cunt clenching nothing.” Choso takes the camera from Suguru, wrapping his hand around his cock.
Smearing his pre cum with thumb, Choso bites his bottom lip trying to keep from moaning right next to the mic. Holding the camera steady, recording the mess Toji, Suguru, Satoru and Sukuna are making of you.
Suguru lines his cock up, slamming his thick, veiny cock into your sensitive, tight cunt. Groaning, taking the toy from Toji, nudging the tip of the dragon’s tongue into your ass.
Sukuna glides his cock out, letting Toji take his place in front. Toji slaps you across the face with his fat cock. Moaning with your tongue stuck out for Toji to use your mouth. “Looks like I’m cumming on ya face first, before I stuff your pretty little ass.” Stuffing his cock into your sore mouth, stuffing his head in deep.
"Lovefatpussy7 donated 300: seeing her play with herself makes my cock hard but I want to see her get treated like the whore she is."
"Spookygothybitchy69 donated 900: first time taking a cock on camera and it's a group, get it girl, i'm dripping wet n’ wishing I was you”
oreo creampie's m.list
Cam girl!reader x group m.list
4K notes · View notes
frantic-fiction · 2 months
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Tease 18+
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(Pic: cheekylittlepupp)
Astarion x f!reader, Astarion x Tav
Summary: The party is taking the night off. You're convinced to wear a dress, and Astarion just can't control himself.
Warnings: Smut, MDNI, Semi-public sex, caught in the act?
Word Count: 3.2k
Mastarlist
Standing in front of the mirror, you pull at the dark green fabric, tugging it down this way and that. You try again to tie the corset but give up quickly. You swing your hips, and the flowy skirt swishes, tickling the skin above your knees. Looking yourself up and down, you zone in on your hips, squirming at the fabric extenuating your curves. So much skin on display makes you want to steal someone's spare cloak to hide in. You weren't one to be self-conscious, but you're used to donning armor and leather, not this scrap of fabric Karlach had convinced you to buy. 
You should just change. Grab some leggings and one of Astarion's shirts, and call it a night. You didn't need a dress to catch his eye; you know how Astarion feels about you; wearing a dress won't change that. Backing away from the mirror, you're just about to rip the dress off when Karlach bursts into the room, Shadowheart following behind her at a much tamer pace. 
"Soldier!" Karlach squeals, stopping suddenly in the middle of the room. She slaps her hands on either side of her face. "You. Are. Gorgeous!" Your face burns as Karlach pounces on you, spinning you around to give her the best view from every angle. Heat creeps up your chest and you giggle awkwardly.
"She's right, you look stunning," Shadowheart smirked and added, "Ten gold Astarion won't be able to keep it in his pants."
"20, he won't make it to a room," Karlach shouts.
"Gods! You both are ridiculous." You squeal, swatting Karlach's hands away and stepping back from her excitement. You huff and fix your skirt. Crossing your hands over your chests, you glare at the girls before timidly looking off to the side. "So, I don't look silly?" The hesitation is evident.
"All joking aside, I assure you, soldier, you are beautiful. And I know for a fact Fangs won't be able to keep his eyes off of you."
You beam under Karlach's compliment, doing a few excited calf raises because you have no idea how else to handle her words. Shadowheart moves towards you and fixes a fallen strand of hair. She gives you a soft smile and moves to finish lacing your corset, patting your arm when she’s done.
"Now we should go. The others are waiting downstairs," Shadowheart motions everyone to the door, letting you take a moment to slip your shoes on. 
After months of endless travels and brutal battles, the party decided to take the evening to drink, relax, and enjoy each other's company. A night to forget the tadpoles and the Absolute. All except Lae'zel, who scoffed at the idea, were joining in on the fun.
Descending the stairs, you slammed with the melody of lively tunes played by a band of minstrels, competing with the animated conversations of patrons. The music, infused with the spirit of celebration, is so loud that it vibrates through the wooden beams of the tavern. The dance floor is alive with energetic movements as couples twirl and spin to the rhythm and the joyous laughter of those lost in the moment.
The bar is surrounded by a sea of drunk patrons clamoring for attention. Tankards slammed onto the worn surface as the bartender poured frothy ale and mead expertly. The dim light of flickering candles and oil lamps casts a warm glow on the diverse crowd. The unmistakable odors of stale ale, greasy food, and the tang of sweat intermingle in the air, creating a distinctive nostalgic and pungent aroma. You're lost in the crowd's movement, overwhelmed with the sounds. You grab onto Shadowheart's elbow like a lifeline.
"Karlach!" Wyll calls and you all snap your head to the side. The party had claimed a booth, and Gale and Wyll were standing up, waving their arms over their heads. They looked like they started early on the drinking; both men's faces were flush, and they each held an easy, dopey grin.
"Wyll!" Karlach linked her arms with yours and Shadowheart's and approached the table. You let her pull you, too busy searching for him. Astarion is slow to stand, but you know the moment he sets his eyes on you. You watch the subtle change in his body language. His hand tightened around the goblet; the exaggerated inhale of air as if someone had kicked him, watching the hunger grow in his eyes.
Now, you feel the confidence bloom in your chest. The dress no longer makes you squirm in discomfort; no, it gives you power and makes you feel desired and sexy. The flame ignites low in your abdomen. Suddenly, you were playing with fire and excited to get burned. A smug smile stretches your lips the closer you get. Pulling away from Karlach, you move and hook your arms around Astarion's neck. You pull him down and place a kiss on his cheek.
"Hi, handsome," you smile up at him, feeling his hand caress the small of your back. Cold fingers playing at the edge of the corset.
"Hello darling, you look breathtaking." He pushes you back gently, giving him space to take in your attire. "Turn for me, my love. Let me look upon the goddess before me."
You roll your eyes at his cheesiness but oblige his request, spinning slowly to allow Astarion to take in every angle. When you come full circle, Astarion captures your lips, and you fall against his chest. His lips meld against yours in a sensual kiss that was entirely inappropriate for the amount of people around, but neither of you seemed to care. Humming against his mouth, you cup his jaw and pull his face away. Astarion chases your lips and lets out a low groan when you deny him what he wants.  
You give Astarion a mischievous grin, patting his chest when you ask. "Do you mind getting me a drink?" 
He gives you a pointed look, visibly dissatisfied with his kiss. With one look and your hand running up his chest and over his shoulder, Astarion caves with a huff. "Yes, of course. Would you like your usual?"
"Yes, please." You say pecking his lips a final time before joining your friends in the booth. 
Wyll was regaling the table with a tale of his early days as the Blade of Frontiers when Astarion slides in beside you. He sets your drink down, and you whisper your thanks before taking a sip and focusing back on Wyll. Gale is quick to call out Wyll's bullshit, Shadowheart pointing out the exaggeration the warlock had blended into his story. It soon devolved into a bickering match as Wyll tried to defend himself. You chuckle between sips of wine, leaning into Astarion, setting your head gently against his shoulder. His hand had found your bare thigh, fingers kneading the supple flesh. 
Suddenly, your friends become background noise as your senses hone in on Astarion. The cheeky smirk that stretches his lips tells you he knows exactly what he's doing as Astarion inches his smooth hand further under your dress—never crossing the line but far enough to make you clench your legs together in need. You bite your lip, cheeks burning from more than the alcohol, and reach down to take his hand in yours. 
"I know what you're doing,"
"Oh, and what is that, my dear?" Astarion grins, bringing your hand to his lips and gently kissing your knuckles. He leans to your ear, "Do you not want me to touch you?" His breath cascades over your neck, and a shiver runs up your spine.
"Not when you're trying to tease me in public."
"My sweet girl, I'm not the one being a tease."
"Soldier! Stop making goo-goo eyes at Fangs, and come dance with me!" Karlach yells across the table, breaking whatever spell Astarion had you under. Pulling away, you look up to see Karlach jumping up and down, hand outstretched for you to take. 
"You know I won't say no to dancing." Astarion reluctantly moves to let you out of the booth. Karlach is quick to grab your hand and pull you towards the stage. 
The time is lost in the beat of the drums and the flow of your hips. Karlach twirls you around, and you can't stop giggling. Wyll joins in the fun, and suddenly, the crowd has formed a unified line dance. It's messy, and you don't know the steps, but you watch Wyll and poke fun at Karlach's improvised moves. You dance until your breath is ragged and your feet start hurting. Moving your body until the sea of people starts to drown you. Maybe it's the alcohol coursing through your veins or the excitement of the dancing. Still, the fun quickly turns to overstimulation that blankets you in thick sheets. In an instant, the room is too hot and too loud, and if you don't get out now, you just might scream.
You leave Karlach and move towards the door outside to the back alley. Pushing it open, you stumble over the threshold and inhale the cold night air. It instantly sobers, clearing your mind and easing your panic. You stare up at the starry sky, soaking in the bright moon. Goosebumps spread over your exposed arms and legs, and you shiver. It doesn't stop you from stepping further into the alleyway as you breathe and allow your heart to settle its pounding. You can still hear the muffled music and thumping feet. 
You hear the door open again but pay it no mind until Astarion speaks, "There you are, my sweet."
You turn on your heel and give him a soft smile. He glowed under the moonlight, an ethereal being standing before you, his face partially cast in shadow, staring at you with hunger. "I needed some air."
"I'm sure you did," Astarion smirks, stepping closer toward you. A predator stalks up to its prey. "All that dancing you were doing must have been exhausting."
"It was, but it was so fun." You reach out instinctually, wrapping your arms around his neck. Astarion smoothes his hands down your spine to the swell of your butt, moving to squeeze the soft, plump flesh. "You should join me next time." You squeak at his grip, pressing yourself closer to him.
Then his lips are on yours, and your back is digging into the rough brick of the alleyway. Astarion's tongue is in your mouth, and you're moaning, gripping his shoulders to find purchase. One of his fangs nipped your bottom lip, and your knees practically buckled under you. You would have fallen if Astarion hadn't pressed you against the wall. 
"I think I just might take you dancing tomorrow." His cold hands caress your thigh, pulling it up and over his hip, pushing up the fabric of your dress with it. "I'll buy you a pretty new dress to add to your growing collection, and I'll have you move your body for me like you've been doing all night." 
He rolls his hips into yours, and you cry into his neck, kissing his skin to muffle your noises. "Swaying those hips in this tight little thing. Gods darling, I've been hard all night, and it's entirely your fault, you naughty little minx."
"Astarion," You sigh, relishing the friction of his hard cock against your clothed core. 
"Such a cruel woman, dangling a feast over a starving man. I'll have to punish you for that." Astarion purrs, running his nose along the line of your jaw, stopping to bite at his favorite spot; his fangs puncture the surface just enough to have droplets of your blood trickle out.
His tongue lavishes over your skin, making sure not a drop escapes. The moan that rumbles through his chest is purely animalistic, and a rush of heat gushes between your legs. "But right now, my naughty girl, I'm going to fuck you here against this wall." 
You let out a whimper, hips bucking instinctually, heat coiling in your lower stomach. "Please.." 
Astarion takes no time to push your underwear aside and push two of his fingers into your folds with a lewd, wet sound. Astarion begins to pump his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, with each stroke curling up just slightly. The rough pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit, and applying pressure, he circles the nub in time with his fingers. 
"You're already so drenched, always so ready for me." You pull his face in and sigh into his mouth, niping his lip playfully. Threading your hand through his soft curls, you give a soft tug, relishing in the grunt Astarion gives you. 
You're painfully aware of your surroundings and know that someone could step out and catch the two of you any moment. The thought gives you a jolt of excitement you'll have to think about later. There is no room to take your time, so you tug harder on Astarion's hair loss, pulling his lips from the flesh of your neck he was playing with.
"Star," You roll your hips against his hand impatiently. "I need you to fuck me already,"
"So impatient, but you are right. This is not the time to play." Astarion tsk before unceremoniously ripping your underwear off and stuffing them in his pocket. 
"I liked those."
"I'll buy you a new pair, maybe one to match your new dress." Astarion peppers kiss down your neck. Your hands move to pull his pants down, freeing his cock. It's red and looks painfully swollen. Astarion hisses through his teeth when you give the base of his cock a tight squeeze. 
"I want one that matches the new dress and the same ones you just ripped." You countered, giving him a few languid strokes using his precum as a lubricant. 
"Whatever you want, my love." He says mindlessly, taking you into another breathtaking kiss.
Astarion hands leave your cunt, and a whine leaves your lips. He kisses your pout and quickly grabs his cock. Astarion pumps himself a few more times before lining up at your entrance. When Astarion sheaths himself fully in your heat, the wind is knocked out of you. A collective groan of ecstasy escapes from both of your mouths. There is no build-up, no room to catch your breath. Astarion quickly pulls out and slams back into you—your back scraps against the bricks, and your foot slips on the cobblestone.
You yelp scrambling to hold on and not fall pathetically onto the dirty alley floor. Astarion, without skipping a beat, scoops you up fully in his arms. All you can do is wrap your legs around his hips and hold on as he pounds into your dripping cunt. 
"Gods, you're perfect," Astarion signs into your neck. He pulls at your dress, moving the corset just enough to expose one of your breasts. He bends his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth. You choke on a gasp; cupping the back of his head, you press him further against you. 
"Astarion," you moan, carding your fingers into his curls. Rolling your hips, you match his thrusts. Your lower stomach tightens, and you will not last much longer. Not with him pulling you apart in the way only he can. You tried to say as much, but you choke on a sob when Astarion's fingers find your clit. 
He grinds your hips into the brick wall and brutalizes your clit with tight circles. His voice is raspy in your ears. "I'm close, love…ngh - gods, you feel so good."
"A-astarion, please!" Tears bead down your cheeks, pleasure overwhelming your senses. Your muscles are tightening. Your legs quake, and you clench tightly around him. 
"That’s it, come for me, beautiful." And that is all you need to see stars, opening your mouth in a silent cry. Ecstasy courses through your veins, and you bite down on his collarbone to ground yourself in your pleasure. His hips stutter, pace faltering as he loses himself in your body, spilling his seed deep into you. 
Neither of you moves; the brick is now uncomfortably digging into your back, but you can't find the energy to care. Astarion peppers kiss up and down your neck. You scratch his scalp softly and catch your breath. It’s nice.
"I guess I should wear more dresses."
"My dear, you could wear a burlap sack, and I would have still taken you against this wall."
"Horny bastard." 
The two of you were too caught up in each other to notice the tavern door opening again. Nor did either of you notice two figures stepping out. At least not until Karlach's loud cackle echoed down the alleyway. You whip your head in her direction, Astarion following suit. Karlach is hunched over and on her knees, shoulders shaking with laughter. Shadowheart stands beside her, arms crossed with disgust and annoyance plastered on her face.
Astarion is quick to turn you away, shielding you with his body. He let’s you go and you scramble to cover yourself. He helps you fix your dress. Great. 
"What did I tell you? Fangs couldn't keep it in his pants long enough to find a room!" Karlach booms, slapping Shadowheart on the arm. "Hand it over," her palm extended in wait. You hide your face in Astarion's neck, face burning in embarrassment. 
Shadowheart mumbled something under her breath, digging in her pocket for her gold pouch. "Here," the gold is slapped into the tieflings palm. She turns to the two of you. "Find a different cleric to cure whatever disease you've contracted in this filthy alley." Shadowheart quickly turns back into the tavern, the door slamming behind her. 
"Well, thanks for the gold," The tiefling beams and skips after Shadowheart, leaving you and Astarion alone once more. 
You refuse to leave the space between Astarion's jaw and collarbone. Thoughts of packing your stuff and running to Candlekeep are crossing your mind. Karlach and Shadowheart are already telling Wyll and Gale about your exploits, and you don't want to handle the smug looks. 
Astarion's chest rumbles with silent laughter, and you're pulled from your escape plans. You emerge from your safe space and glare up at the man. "What's so funny?!" 
He laughs harder, and runs his thumb over your pout, cupping your jaw. You hold firm in your annoyance and turn your head. "Karlach is telling all of our friends that we just fucked in a dirty back alley, why would you be laughing?" You snap.
"You would think at this point Shadowheart would stop betting on our love life. Tsk, all the gold she's lost." You narrow your eyes at him. His playful smirk widens. "She and the other weirdos should know how shamelessly I want you. They were lucky I didn't fuck you on the table." 
Rolling your eyes, you shove him hard, forcing Astarion to stumble back. Moving past you storm towards the door; he's laughing and calling your name. Astarion, only get your middle finger before the tavern door closes behind you.
Astarion is a cheeky shit. I love him.... Let me know what ya thought, i love your feedback.
Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna
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call-me-strega · 2 months
Text
Dc x Dp prompt #13: Hell to Pay
They say there are only two things certain in life: death and taxes. That’s why even the Joker doesn’t fuck with the IRS.
However, unfortunately for the Joker the other certainty is death and he has yet to pay his dues. Just like how he could only get away with tax evasion for so long, there are only so many times the Joker can dodge death.
Death is coming to collect, with interest.
And the Joker will have hell to pay.
~ A dark green cloud swirls over the city. From it, emerge three oppressive figures:
The one on the far left with flowing hair like white-hot fire. His vambraces made of (what appeared to be) molten glass stopped under his fingers, which then extend into into claws that seemed to drip lava. He had spiked obsidian pauldrons on his shoulders, fastening a luminous, stark-white cape to his shoulders. He wore a coronet of lightning and wielded a flail that appeared to be made of coal chains and a shrunken Red Giant star.
The second on the far right had a helm of dark iron wreathed in a plume of purple flame. His gauntlets and sword flamed with green hellfire. A pure black sheath seemingly made of void and a silver hunting horn were tied to his waist. He wore an armor forged of shadows and proofed with fear. He rode atop a mighty stead. An inky dark stallion with a curved horn and bat-like wings. His form was constantly slightly shifting depending on the angle which you viewed him making him appear larger and more slippery than he was, enhancing his disquieting nature.
The third stood in the middle, smaller but no less terrifying than her companions. Her hair was wild with movement, only just visible because it appeared as if someone had bound the winds to her head. She wore a tiara made of storm clouds and pearls. She carried with her a spear, the shaft crafted of amazonite and the tip of a clear quartz, almost reminiscent of sea salt. At her hip lay a whip made of a restrained gale and a sea glass knife. She wore armor that appeared to be Greco-Roman in origin: a chest plate made of some sort of coral-like material and a battle skirt decorated with metallic bronze feathers.
They slowly descent on the city, bringing down a sense of power and dread. They paused at the top of Wayne Tower, where the city's vigilantes had all gathered in an attempt to create and feasible plan of action to discern what these beings want. The young woman in the middle speaks and the wind carries her voice. She is not loud but it the whole of Gotham hears her words.
"Greetings, Heroes of Gotham. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Spirit, Princess and Head Diplomat of the Infinite Realms. This is Samhain, the Fright Knight, loyal knight to the king,” she gestured to her right before switching to her left “and this is Prince Wraith, current General in Chief of the Realms. We come to you as the King’s Guard and entourage. We have official business in your city and wish to civilly notify you of our presence. The King will be arriving shortly and your cooperation would be great fully received.”
Batman moved forward to shake her hand and address the situation.
“I’m afraid that we prefer not to have unknowns operating within the city. Would you be able to tell us what business you have here? Perhaps we could reach an agreement?” Batman tried to negotiate as politely as he could. He did not want to risk offending the evidently powerful beings.
Princess Spirit’s smile sharpened as she thrummed her finger against her knife. She spoke again with an unnervingly pleasant tone.
“It appears you do not understand. We are not asking for your permission.” Her grip around his hand tightened. “ We are informing you.” She finished releasing his hand.
Batman withdrew his aching hand and regarded her with the beginnings of a protest on his lips. She didn’t allow him to speak.
“ This is out of your jurisdiction Batman. This is a matter of the Realms and the Afterlife. Whatever worldly rules or morals you wish to impose on those who enter this city do not apply to us. We will do our best to work within them, so as to appease you and to attempt to maintain a friendly relationship but in the macrocosm of the multiverse and afterlives you have no official power over us. Additionally, we have direct permission to operate here however we see fit from the City Spirit herself, Lady Gotham.”
Batman’s shadow seemed to fluctuated. His and his team's shadows moved from beneath them, closer to the Princess. Lady Gotham, though not manifesting, was making her presence and approval known. Batman could not deny what he was seeing. His team shifted uncomfortably behind him. He appealed to her once more.
“ I see that we can’t stop you. We don’t want to get in your way either. Could you at least tell us why you are here?”
She smiled as if telling a joke, “All will be revealed in time”
Suddenly, there was a loud noise that sounded like tearing fabric. The green clouds mixed with purples and blues and began to churn faster. The cyclone emitted a flashes of bright light. In unison all three of the King’s Guard lifted up from the roof and took place underneath the eye of the wind storm.
Spirit holds her spear aloft. With one swift, commanding move she slams the butt of her spear down, creating a platform out of solidified air.
Wraith bellows out smoke and ash onto the platform to discolor it. With ferocious and precise movements his claws to carve in a sigil, leaving a soft orange glow against the black and gray.
Samhain sheathes his sword and pulls his horn from his waist. He wills his dark stead to rear up as he blows the horn, letting out one loud prolonged cry.
The three warriors stand at attention and Princess Spirit calls the winds to project her voice once more.
“ Now introducing the Ruler of the Infinite Realms, High King of the In-Between, The Great One, The Benevolent King, The Peace Maker, The Guardian of Souls, The One with the Cloak of Stars and the Crown of Frozen Light, The Perfect Balance, Ancient of Space and Reality, The Infinite King: Phantom!”
With a flash of white light a figure appear in the center of the platform. Simultaneously, the three knights bow in reverence.
The King has arrived.
As the Heroes of Gotham regain clear vision they are met with a striking figure.
There stood a toned young man appearing both boyishly young, yet wisened and weathered. He had side swept hair the creeped to the bottom of his neck. His skin was pale with an icy blue tint. He opened his eyes to reveal they shone an electric green. Upon his head rest a crown made of a crystalline material, reminiscent of an aurora. He wore a navy blue cloak that had a rich purple hood lined with stark white fur. The underside displayed a shifting galaxy pattern. His under suit was the same midnight black as Samhain’s. He donned golden arm bands and a gold chest plate in style quite similar to Spirit’s. His hand were covered in snow white gauntlets that matched Wraith’s vambraces.
They all stood in awe, beholden to the almost divine figure.
The king sent them a gentle smile. It was warm and comforting yet sent a chill down their shoulders.
King Phantom began to fly down toward the center of the city, his entourage fell into step behind him. He hovered several hundred feet over Wayne tower and looked down at the city. He then spoke in a booming voice, his tone kind but commanding.
“ I humbly greet the Lady Gotham, her champions, and her citizens,” the shadows curled toward him appreciatively. “ I am grateful for your cooperation in our effort to rectify a great injustice. As High King of the Infinite Realms it is one of my duties to preside over the afterlife. To bring guidance, peace, and justice to the souls under my jurisdiction. Recently, it has been brought to my attention that there is a soul among you who has not only dodged death, but caused great strife to a vast number of souls who call for justice.”
On the roof of Wayne Enterprises Jason and Damian both stiffen, but remain firm in their gaze toward the king. The king looks out at the city and sparing them the quickest of glances. He continues onward.
“ The man formerly know as Jack Napier, now called The Joker. He has avoided death on many an occasion but his life should have ended moment he fell into a vat of chemicals. Since then he has sent hundreds more to the afterlife. He has long yet to pay his dues. That is why on the behalf of justice, restoring balance, and of my subjects I officially condemn Jack Napier.”
“Jack Napier, you have been allowed 24 hours turn yourself into our custody in order to be put on trial for your crimes in the Infinite Realms. Should you fail to turn youself in, we shall take that as an admission of guilt and acceptance to be punished for your actions. After the 24 hours are up, Samhain shall use his horn to summon The Hunt and we shall track you down.”
His gaze passed specifically over Red Hood, one of the Oracle’s drones, Nightwing, Signal, Red Robin, and Batman before he spoke his next words.
“All those souls who have been wronged by the Joker, both living and deceased, who wish to have a hand in their justice have been invited to join The Hunt if they so choose.”
The king lifted his hand, calling the swirling green clouds to his gather in his palm. The clouds swiftly rearranged themselves into a smokey timer hanging in the sky.
An impish smirk graced King Phantom’s face as he let out a malicious laugh and gave his final decree.
“ Your time begins now!”
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pascals-doll · 1 month
Text
candy
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ellie williams x reader
🫧 happy valentines day to all my beautiful followers | enjoy this vday special 🩷 am i uploading this ar midnight because a bitch had classes and work yes but its valentines (was technically) IM GGONNA WRITE AN ELLIE FIC 🧘‍♀️
🫧 inspired by the song candy by doja cat | bed of roses PT2
🫧 description: fluffy, cute surprises, reader knows how to know paint a bit, just fluff, cute fluff,ellie sings to you (i took the scene from the game because i cherish it sm) smut, SLUT SMUT💋, power dynamic, dom!ellie, sub!reader, you and ellie live together, reader is PUSSYHUNGRY (mmm im so- i would do anything for that tsunami), reader eats out ellie on stairs (you’re welcome), fingering, praises, no use of y/n, use of petnames like doll, mama, and good girl, very little degradation, hair pulling, clit sucking, face grinding, cum eating, just ellie getting eaten so good! enjoy
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She's just like candy, she's so sweet
but you know that it ain't real cherry
know that it ain't real cherry
🫧
it was valetines day today which meant ellie got to spoil you rotten; it is very well- deserved.
you would always be very thoughtful with your gifts.
this valentines day, you sneakily woke up around 1 AM and worked until dawn on customizing a wooden workstation that you got her for her artwork.
you knew you had work in the morning but you would do anything for the woman who’s protected you, provided for you, and pleased you.
you painted the workstation very carefully a dark earth-green. you let each coat of paint dry before beginning to carefully paint details on it.
you were going to paint symbols for each of her favorite memories onto it. you took references from her own beautiful drawings.
one of the details you painted were the beginning of Joel’s; now her guitar, painting even the moth.
one of the guitar strings then ran around the whole work-station, dragging the brush till the end.
you began to draw small moths and different flowers with herbs carefully placing them along the string line.
lastly, finishing it up by drawing a silhouette of the both of your bodies intertwined, then painting an outline of ellie’s knife and joel’s gun side by side on the side of her workbench.
once you were done, you carved both of your initials into the side of the workbench.
you transfered all of her essentials from the small broken down drawers; that could barely hold up to her made with so much love customized workstation.
you made your way back into your shared warm bed, careful not to wake up ellie.
sunrise made its way into the sky, ellie waking up now as you now slept.
ellie noticed you got up in the middle of the night, searching for your warmth but she shrugged it off before knocking into slumber again.
ellie got up very quietly, planting a kiss on your head before heading into her work room to get her guitar.
she walked into her art room, stepping as she scans the room. she immediately stopped in her steps, her eyes falling onto your beautiful workstation.
ellie’s heart pounds outside of her chest, tears wanting to form in her hazel eyes as a rush of emotions take over her.
she walks around the small wooden dark-green station, her handing brushing it softly as she takes in your designs.
she couldnt help but think about although you had work sadly on valetines day, you still did this for her.
this was bigger than the world to ellie.
you were the most perfect girl and if one thing was for certain, ellie would be spending an eternity of valetine’s day with you.
🫧
I can be your sugar when you're fiendin' for that sweet spot
Put me in your mouth, baby, and eat it 'til your teeth rot
I can be your cherry, apple, pecan,
or your key lime
Baby, I got everything and so much more than she's got
you were now currently at work, you hated how you got called in today.
you asked ellie if she was going to be good with you going to work today, in which she responded by pulling down your panties.
lets just say, you had a very pleasant morning before going into work.
while you were away at work, ellie got to work on her surprise because eating your cum for breakfast wasn’t enough.
she went to almost all the floral shops she could, selling them out of their pink and red roses.
ellie covered the entryway with petals, even the staircase that leads upstairs, and leading all the way up into your room.
the living room, she had a fairy lights hung along with pink lit candles on the ground.
ellie had a huge case of flowers waiting for you, wrapped in the arrangement of your inital.
that was only the downstairs, your room was filled with more surprises.
your shared bed was covered in rose petals, a couple small gifts waiting for you while your surprise gift was tucked away by ellie.
ellie finished up any last miniute preparations before you came home from work.
she changed from her pj shirt and boyshorts from this morning to a flannel with a black-tee and some baggy shorts that exposed her Calvin Klein lining.
She's just like candy, she's so sweet
But you know that it ain't real cherry, know that it ain't real cherry
She's just like candy, she's so sweet (She's so sweet)
But you know that it ain't real, know that it ain't real
🫧
you came home a bit exhausted but excited because you picked up a teddy bear that held a heart with the writing “i love u” on it from a street vendor, leaving your job.
once you made it home, beginning to turn the keys to step through your front door.
you open the door to see your beautiful auburn-hair girlfriend.
she was sitting there on your shared loveseat, her beautiful fingers strumming her guitar.
the melodious tone from the strums of her guitar strumming the song your love for each other shares.
she began to sing softly “talking away” your hand cant help but go ovee your mouth as you felt tears begin to form.
the sound of her silky voice singing through your ears, making your heart pound and face hot.
“today’s another day to find you”
you could listen to ellie sing for the rest of your life, tears were already streaming down your face. ellie couldn’t look you in the eyes while she sang because if she did, she wouldn’t be able to finish.
you made her heart go a million miles per minute like a schoolgirl crush.
you made her stomach flutter like she was born with a butterfly nest inside her.
you made her soul shine like the sun after never-ending rain.
ellie finished serenating you, putting her guitar down
she finally looked up at you, clutching a teddy bear with tears streaming down your face.
before ellie could say anything, you ran into her arms; immediately taking you in to her embrace.
this was a feeling words couldn’t express, but only actions.
your heart felt like it was going to pop out of your chest with the clash of ellie’s lips onto yours.
you weren’t alone with ellie barely being able to catch her breath but so desperate for you.
the way your lips moved with such hasty movement but yet still passionately and amorously.
you began to walk towards the staircase, lips not leaving a moment. your eyes slightly opening time to time to make sure you were guiding you and ellie correctly.
“all i wanted-“ you began but were interrupted by her lips again.
“all day was to” ellie pulled away momentarily to let you continue.
“come home to this” you whined out against her lips, your tongue slightly licking over them.
🫧
Sugar coated, lies unfolded, you still lick the wrapper
It's addictive, you know this, but you still lick the wrapper
Sugar coated, lies unfolded, you still lick the wrapper
It's addictive, you know this, but you still lick the wrapper
you were fillied with arousal and need to please as you dropped to your knees…on the staircase. you could careless at this given moment.
your hands ran through her back, feeling each crevess of each toned muscle, then coming back around to her arms.
you gave her strong-toned arms a soft squeeze before having them go up to her chest. you needed to have her.
“doll i got a surprise in the room, lets-” ellie begins but you didn’t care.
“no” you said, looking her in the eyes as you unzip and unbutton her shorts “right here, right now” you whine out, pulling down ellie shorts completely.
ellie would be lying if she said you dying to eat her out on each other’s staircase wasn’t the hottest thing, especially on fucking valentine’s day.
it was you, how could she deny you.
“that desperate, mama?” she teases you as you peck her toned abdomen. you gave her a slight whimper as you nod.
she brings herself down to sit on the stairs, grabbing you by your jaw to pull you in for a kiss.
your lips meet again, your hand traveling down into her boxers immediately feeling seeping slick cunt “you drive me insane” you moan out, your mind was so drunk by her.
she had you high on her scent, taste, look, and touch. anything ellie did could have you on your knees, just like this.
your fingers begin to rub her clit in circular motion causing her breathing to hitch and soft moans of content escape her mouth as your lips travel down to her neck.
you begin to suck on the skin as your fingers massaged her clit, slightly putting pressure here and there causing ellie to let out gentle-yet-loud groan.
ellie’s hips began to rise to meet your hand “my beautiful doll-s’good f’me” she mumbled under her breathy moans.
you were sure you left her a purpletrail from her neck leading into her shoulder before going down a couple more steps.
you waste no time in pulling off her boxers, meeting with her wet pussy “s’pretty els, i love you.” you were just completely dazed by ellie at this point, wanting to please her and have her taste on you for days.
“you gonna drool or eat up, doll?” ellie smirks, she knew the effect she had on you and it made you fiend to please her even more.
your hands go to spread her thighs open a bit more before diving your head in between her legs. you met face to face with her juiced pussy, her slick coating your tongue as you lick a stripe.
“ah fuck, doll!” ellie moans out, her hips slightly bucking against your face as her hand had a grip on your hair.
the way you were on your knees on these steps buried into ellie’s pussy, your tongue collects her juices as you begin to swirl your tongue around her clit sucking softly.
she tasted just like candy, you grab her one of her thighs, hooking it up to balance on your shoulder.
the wider angle made her throw her head back “s’fuck doll! just like that. eat it just like that.” her vile voice praising the way you took the way she slopped her pussy against your tongue.
ellie began to work herself towards her orgasm on your tongue, her hand following the movement of your head.
you ate her out like this was your last meal, not wanting to let a single drop “god fuck-y-you’re insane!” she whined out as you worked you fucked her with yout tongue.
ellies stomach stomach flexes, her toned abdomen becoming more prominent as her breathy moans turn into pants and loud gutteral moans as you took your free hand; licking her asshole all the way up to her clit.
“fuck fuck fuck, doll! s’such a good girl” ellie’s hand swore she could’ve pulled your hair our by now but you could careless, the only thing on your mind was making this woman cum.
she deserved the way you ate her with delight, completely letting her use your face for her orgasm.
your nails dig into her thigh as you feel yourself slowly loosing your breath; but you were not leaving till she had came all over your face.
“s’close god! youre such a fuckin’ slut f’me.” her orgasm finally riding out.
“atta girl, lick it all up again.” she praises, pulling you back up from her pussy to her lips, tasting herself momentarily before her hand finds the back of your head guiding you to the white cum-beed that seaped out of her now fucked-out hole.
you licked her from asshole up, completely picking up her cum onto the tip on tongue causing you moan out as your lips were wrapped around her.
once you pulled away meeting her eyes, her cum covering your lips causing your face to glisten lightly.
“you’re a demon” ellie brings you into her embrace on the stairs.
“its not my fault you’re my favorite candy”
🫧
She's just like candy, she's so sweet
But you know that it ain't real cherry, know that it ain't real cherry
She's just like candy, she's so sweet
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a/n > part 2 ??? 😇
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lovebugism · 3 months
Note
rockstar!eddie x shy!reader , christmas party shenanigans, shes so sweet she made cookies & sweets for everyone but she wasn’t asked to , run ins w celebs 🤭
hope u like it angel!! — a rockstar flirts with eddie munson’s girl minutes before corroded coffin plays a show (shy!reader, established relationship, fluff, 1.4k)
blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚
Corroded Coffin’s got their own green room — backstage at one of the biggest music festivals of the year. There’s a team of people dressed in black waiting at their beck and call. Eddie’s pretty sure KISS is in the suite down the hall. As a boy from Middle of Nowhere, Indiana, he doesn’t feel very deserving of any of it.
He feels like he’s dreaming, really. The only thing keeping him from pinching himself is Dustin and Lucas’ roughhousing and Steve’s stupid belly laugh. Having all his childhood friends here is strangely humbling.
Eddie lazes on an expensive leather chair, totally unsure of what to do with himself when he’s not holding you. He’s trying to get comfortable in the foreign leather drab that stylists put him in when the door yawns open. It swings with such ferocity that the metal knob slams against the opposite wall with a low thud. It isn’t any surprise that the culprit is Robin Buckley.
She storms in first, followed more quietly by you some seconds later.
“Woah, woah, woah— what happened?” Eddie wonders aloud, already on edge with anxiety. Robin swooping in like a dark grey storm cloud doesn’t make it any better.
You shrug with a tin of Christmas cookies in your hand. Some are already missing because you wanted to pass them out to the workers. “It’s not like I don’t have enough to go around,” you’d said with a shy chuckle, nodding to the table lined with homemade pastries. You always bake when you’re nervous.
“We bumped into someone on the way back,” you explain in a gentle murmur, mindful of the emotional girl across the room. “I think she might’ve known him…”
“You didn’t recognize him?” Robin blurts from where she’s flopped on the leather couch. Her eyes go wide, the edges of them smudged with brown eyeliner. The look she gives you makes you cower.
“…No?”
“That was Roger Taylor,” she tells you. And then, when it still doesn’t hit you— “From Queen.”
Your doe eyes flood with a similar, more innocent look of shock. “That’s who that was?”
Robin groans and shoves her face into the fluffy throw pillow beneath her. She decides to talk to the only person in the room who could understand her and her wild emotions. Steve, sitting next to her with cookie crumbs all over his mouth, somehow manages to cipher her mumbled, emotional slurs.
“You don’t get it— it was like seeing an angel, Steve. He was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen— and I don’t even like men!”
“Yeah, so that’s definitely saying something,” the boy mumbles through a mouthful of pastry.
Eddie, still wide-eyed with amazement, turns to look up at you. You’re lingering at his side, a sweet thing dressed in pastel pink. He reaches over to smooth a hand over your pale tights. His ringed fingers are almost achingly warm when they curl around the back of your thigh. He tilts his chin to smile at you with all his teeth.
“I thought you loved Queen, babe,” he chuckles, squeezing gently at your leg.
“I do,” you insist, always shy in your way, as you shift your weight on your feet. Your sheepish gaze flits to the tray in your hand — to the hand-made snowmen, trees, and snowflakes. “I just didn’t know that’s what he looked like.”
“Was he pretty?” Eddie teases with a knowing squint in his chocolate eyes.
You shrug, burning with misplaced embarrassment. “I don’t know… I didn’t really look,” you mutter. His chest swells with something short of pride. “They just wanted to try my cookies—”
“That’s what she said,” Gareth quips. Followed by an audible slap when Jeff reaches over to smack him. “—Ow!”
“Was Freddie Mercury there?” Dustin wonders from across the room, smiling wide at the thought. His giggle is boyish and high-pitched. “That’d be insane.”
You shake your head in response. “No— but now that I think about it, that’s probably why they said they needed to take some extra for Fred. There was another guy there, though.”
“Yeah?” Eddie lilts to egg you on.
“Yeah. He kinda looked like a poodle—”
“Brian May!” the room choruses.
“Um…” you mumble under your breath. “Maybe?”
“One of the best guitarists of our time Brian May?” Robin wonders, a tad bit dramatic, and filled with life all over again. “Astrophysicist and super genius Brian May?”
Your smile is innocent and utterly sincere. “Oh, he’s an astrophysicist? That’s so cool!”
Robin groans again, and you flinch.
“…What?”
“Nothing,” Eddie answers for her, squeezing your leg to bring your attention back to him again. His rosy grin widens when your eyes meet his. “You’re just cute.”
Your face heats like it’s the first time he’s ever complimented you. Your warm cheek tilts to your shoulder as you smile quietly back at him. “Well, thank you,” you mutter shyly.
“Why can’t anything good happen to me?” Robin whines.
Steve doesn’t mean to laugh, but it tumbles out before he can stop it. “It did happen to you. You were there.”
“Well, it didn’t feel good at the time!”
The door creaks open again. Nancy and Jonathan walk in together, fashionably late. It wouldn’t be surprising if she stopped a couple of musicians for impromptu interviews and didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer — bound to be on the front page of Hawkins Post come Sunday morning.
Jonathan, however, looks a little bit dazed. “Is that— Is that Queen in the hallway?” he whispers to the group of you, like he’s scared the band might hear him.
“Yep,” Robin deadpans in response, popping the p.
“Ooh. Smells like a bakery in here,” Nancy lilts with a pretty pink smile.
You get all shy because it’s entirely your fault. “Yeah. Sorry. I kinda… went overboard with the cookies.”
“Don’t be sorry. I love when you bake us stuff,” she assures you, then bites the head off of a sugary snowman. She sighs at the heavenly taste and nods with it stuck in her cheek. “Don’t ever, ever be sorry.”
You giggle all pretty in response.
Jonathan reaches into the tray and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. “Woah. What’s this?”
“Oh. Shit. Sorry. I meant to throw that away—”
Nancy rips it from his hands. She straightens it out as best she can and squints when she finds writing on the back of it. She grins like she’s found some kind of hidden treasure. 
“Wait, this is someone’s phone number,” she announces to the rest of them room. She reads it out loud for all of you, each of you on the edges of your metaphorical seats. “Thanks for the cookies, but I bet you taste sweeter. I’m free after the show. Call me. Roger.”
The room goes deadly silent.
Eddie is among the gaping mouths of shock, unsure if he should be jealous or amused.
“He wanted to try your cookies, alright,” Gareth chuckles under his breath. Jeff snorts out a laugh, then reaches over to slap him again. The curly-haired boy cowers. “Oh, come on! You thought it was funny, too!”
“Let me see that,” Eddie insists, rising on his feet to take the paper from Nancy’s painted fingertips. 
His brown eyes flit back and forth as he reads it for himself. Once, then twice, then a few more times after that. He’s about to play a show for thousands of people, yet this is somehow harder for him to grasp.
“Roger Taylor wants to fuck my girlfriend,” he murmurs in amazement to himself.
For some reason, feeling the need to defend yourself, you rush to get the words out. “I didn’t know that’s what that was, Eds, I swear— I figured he thought I worked here, and he was just giving me his trash to throw away.”
Eddie turns to you, still silent. His chocolate eyes are slightly glazed over as he blinks at you — the sweetest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, so polite in her shyness and aloof with it, too. 
Still in a state of subtle disbelief about all of this — the phone number, the looming performance, and the fact he ever landed you in the first place — he shakes his wild head with a dumbfounded smile.
“I love the shit outta you, you know that?” he says with a burst of low, boyish laughter. He doesn’t give you the opportunity to answer before wrapping you up in his leather-clad arms and pressing a smothering kiss to your mouth.
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luxaofhesperides · 5 months
Text
Accidental Bride Sacrifice ; requested by @starlightcat04!
Danny has long since gotten used to the feel of summonings. They don’t happen often, but sometimes the right components are put together to force him into answering, and he’d have to go as the new Ghost King.
Which no one told him was a thing! He hadn’t protested too much about the whole Ghost King deal when they finally told him about it after he graduated high school. It gave him a good excuse to ditch life in the living realm and not worry about college or a career, and let him really embrace his ghost side. 
The summonings are a problem, though. They always feel staticky and bad, like a dumpster that just got struck by lightning. The taste of iron on his tongue, a clear sign of blood being spilled, lets him know that it would be one of end the world for us summonings, because some people can’t put in the effort to do it themselves, apparently. 
But this time, the summoning feels different.
Danny pauses, eyes going unfocused in the middle of his conversation with Jazz. He had been looking forward to spending the week with her, now that she’s on winter break, but his luck is as bad as always.
“I’m being summoned,” he tells her, cutting off her rant about a transphobic professor she had. 
“Oh, no. Do you need me to do anything? Should I go with you to beat up whoever it is that’s summoning you?”
Danny tilts his head to the side, considering. The taste of blood is noticeably absent. In fact, this summoning pull doesn’t make him feel sick at all. It makes him feel warm, as if he’s just been wrapped in a hug.
“No,” he says. “I think I’m good. This one feels different.”
“A good different?” Jazz asks, worry clear in her voice.
“Yeah. A good different. I’ll come back soon, okay?”
“Alright. Be careful, Danny.” Jazz pulls him into a quick hug, then steps back to watch as Danny stops fighting the pull of the summoning and disappears into a swirling white rings that flashes into existence behind him, blinding her for a moment, and is gone when she manages to blink the spots out of her vision. 
For a minute, Danny drifts in a void of stillness, traveling through the realms as the summoning draws him closer to the correct realm. And then he’s rising out of the ground in a dark building made of concrete, candles of green flame scattered all over the place.
“Great One!” someone in a hooded cloak cries, raising his arms in jubilation. “Our calls have been answered!”
“I’ll fucking kill you!” a mechanical voice yells from farther back. When Danny looks past the cultists’ heads, he spots a man in a red hood and leather jacket chained to a pole, along with a bunch of other people in strange costumes tied up, desperately trying to free themselves. 
“Silence!” The leader of the cult, or who Danny assumes is the leader, snaps at the hooded man and gestures to the people off to his left. They force another costumed person forward, this one in yellow armor. He can see the blood running down their face from beneath their helmet and from their nose, dark lines of blood cutting through their brown skin. 
The cultists throw the armored person forward, forcing them to kneel. Then they bow to Danny and step back.
“Great One,” the leader says, voice unpleasantly reverent and grating, “Welcome to the mortal realms. We offer you this sacrifice to feed your strength. He will make a fine general for your undead army in your crusade to rid this world of its filth.”
The people in the back begin shouting all together, panicked voices overlapping, and Danny is left staring down at the cultists in shock.
The summoning had felt so nice. What the hell was this? He did not sign up for another ‘end of days’ insane cult. He just wanted to be hugged. 
His silence makes the cultists nervous. They begin to shift uneasily, whispering to each other, and the leader clears his throat, then pulls a large crystal dagger out of his cloak. “We shall prove our devotion to you through an offering of a hero’s blood!”
And then he moves towards the sacrifice and Danny snaps out of his shock to yell, “Wait!”
The entire room freezes. Even the costumed people in the back go still. 
Danny winces, then tries to smother his power, make himself more palatable to the humans of this dimension. “Wait,” he says again, and he sounds closer to human now. If he could, he would drop his ghost form entirely, but he knows better than to endanger himself like that. “What, exactly, did you summon me here for?”
The cult leader stares at him for a moment. “To… To rid the world of filth and allow your loyal followers to spread word of your power. You will be worshiped again, Great One, and serve as a reminder to man that Death shall always prevail.”
“Okay, I get that, but I was talking more along the lines of the summoning. What ritual did you use? What specifically were the summoning requirements?”
Normally, he’d be able to figure it out himself, but these cultists didn’t use a summoning circle. So they did something else, something less visible and therefore harder to figure out, in order to bring him here.
A woman standing off to the side speaks up, stepping forward hesitantly. “I had pieced together a few summoning spells from this book to bring you here. You had to accept our chosen sacrifice to your side in order for the summoning to work.”
“Hold up that book for me, please?”
She does, and Danny flies down to grab it from her hands. “Point out which lines you used,” he says, already reading a few of the words written down. It’s definitely ghostspeak written down, which should be near impossible for living humans to translate without being skilled in magic.
“Ah, these ones.” She points to each line, reading them out for him, and Danny starts understand what, exactly, went wrong.
“Is there a problem, Great One?”
Danny returns the book then floats over to the sacrifice and picks him up. The costumed people make alarmed noises, but quietly quiet down again when all Danny does is move him away from the cultists.
“Okay,” he says, “So. The lines you used to summon me were not translated properly. What you interpreted as ‘accepted to stay by the king’s side in loyalty and strength’ is not meant to be, like, him being part of my undead army or whatever. It’s a royal marriage vow.”
“They married us?” the sacrifice shouts, disbelieving. The cult leader buries his face in his hands and sighs.
“My deepest apologies, Great One. We meant no offense. We simply wanted to aid in your destruction of this depraved world.”
Danny scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not gonna fly with me. I do not do the biding of random people, especially those who are ready to murder innocent people for no reason. Frighty, if you would.” He snaps his fingers, calling up Fright Knight who always enjoys getting to torment the people who summon Danny for murderous reasons.
Fright Knight appears in a swirl of darkness and screams. Shadows swallow the room, and when they recede, no cultists remain.
“Thanks, Frighty. Have fun with them. I need to figure out all… this.”
Fright Knight bows to him, then disappears. Danny lets out a breath, then floats down lower to be eye level with the sacrifice. “Hey,” he says gently, with a smile, “I’m so sorry they did this to you. I’m Danny. What’s your name?”
“Du— Uh, Signal,” the sacrifice says, sounding rather dazed. 
“Signal,” Danny repeats. “Like… a traffic signal?”
“No. I mean, maybe? But it is Signal. That’s my hero name, not my real name.”
“Oh, you’re a hero!” His getup makes more sense now. Danny checks him over for any signs of injuries. So far, only his head and nose seem to be injured, but his wrists are tightly bound behind his back. Carefully, Danny calls upon his ice and shapes it into a sharp knife, then cuts through the zipties.
He helps Signal up to his feet, floating by his shoulder. “All good?”
“Yeah, man, all good. Let me just get the others free.”
“Oh, I can do it!” Danny flies over to the other costumed people, who must also be heroes. All it takes is one link in the chain being frozen and broken for the entire thing to go lax, allowing them to free themselves. Hooded guy spares Danny a single glance, then hurries over to Signal to check on him. The other three, a man with a blue bird across his chest, a blond girl with a yellow bat outline on her chest, and a guy with bandoliers and a golden bird emblem, all watch him warily as he floats back towards the center of the room.
“So,” the blue bird man says, “If they summoned you with a marriage vow, and you accepted, does that mean you’re planning to steal Signal away from us?” He’s smiling, but it’s not a nice smile.
“No! I had no idea they did this! I am so sorry you all got caught up in this. You most of all, Signal.”
Signal shrugs, nudging hood guy away from him. “Nah, man, it’s all good. This is definitely the better outcome.”
“I don’t know, being married off isn’t really a good thing.”
“Hey, at least they married me off to a decent guy.”
“You don’t know that,” Danny says, “What if I’m secretly evil?”
“If you were secretly evil, you’d be destroying the world right now. I think you’re fine.”
The blond girl waves at him, demanding his attention. “Quick question! They were calling you ‘Great One’. Are you a god or something?”
“Not really? I’m the Ghost King. So I’m a ghost who rules over other ghosts and also a majority of the Infinite Realms.”
She nods as if this is all totally normal for her, then shoots Signal a grin. “Congrats on bagging a king! Not the worst way to spend a night, right?”
“Can you break the marriage?” blue bird man asks, the lines of his shoulders tense.
Danny awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, not looking any of them in the eye. “I honestly don’t know. I can look for a way! But I genuinely have no clue. This was unexpected.”
“But you accepted.”
“I didn’t know what I expected! It just felt like a hug, and I wanted a hug! I thought I was being summoned for something nice for once!” Danny curls up, bringing his knees up to his chest, and hides his pout behind his hands. He knows he’s being childish, but he can’t help but be upset that he couldn’t have this one good experience from being Ghost King. 
It’s always responsibilities and death cult summonings and fighting ghosts who don’t think he should be king. Sure there have been some good things, but they’re comparatively few when looking at all the other stress and pain that comes with the crown. Sue him for wanting to have a nice night for once. Hell, at this point, he’d take being summoned to help with some kid’s homework, because at least then he could have a quiet night helping someone.
“Hey, man, can you come down here?” Signal asks. 
He wants to stay out of reach, hiding himself away for a bit longer, but Signal is his new, surprise, accidental husband, so Danny lowers himself to the ground and peeks through his fingers to look at him.
He tenses when Signal hugs him, soft and warm and comforting. It takes a moment for him to realize what’s going on, and then he’s melting into Signal’s embrace, dropping his hands to wrap them around Signal’s back.
Distantly, he can hear the other heroes talking quietly amongst themselves. He blocks out the sound as much as he can, determined to enjoy this hug while it lasts.
Which is… fairly long. Signal makes no moves to end the hug, so Danny closes his eyes to really savor the moment. 
“So,” Signal murmurs into his ear, “As newlyweds, how about we get to know each other a bit better before we start working on fixing all this?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Let’s ditch these guys and take some time to ourselves.”
“I promise I’ll get this fixed,” he says, just to make sure Signal knows. “Genuinely, I am so sorry to have married you through an old Realms vow when you had no say in it.”
“Hey, if it lands me a very nice, very attractive king, then I don’t mind at all. I could have done without the murderous cultists, though.”
Danny huffs out a small laugh. “Oh, for sure. Thanks for being so cool about this. Want me to fly us out of here?”
“Yes please,” Signal says. Danny smiles and tightens his grip on Signal, then lifts them both up. “I’ll see y’all later! Have fun with the rest of your patrols!” he calls out to the other heroes, who start shouting at him.
Danny flies them right out the roof before the other heroes figure out a way to kick his ass. The city they’re in is smoggy and dark, tall buildings rising up into the cloudy sky, and police sirens ring through the air. There’s no where that looks like a particularly nice spot to land for a conversation, so he asks Signal where he’d like to go and follows his directions from there.
They end up phasing through a building, then into the floor, which leaves them in what Signal calls The Hatch. 
Danny takes a quick moment to freak out over being in a hero’s secret hide out, the composes himself and finally pulls away from Signal.
“So,” he starts, looking around The Hatch and taking in the giant computer, the workstation, the motorcycle farther down the way, “What did you—Woah!” Danny spins around, slamming a hand over his eyes the instant he realizes that Signal is taking off his helmet, leaving his face bare.
It’s not like he’d know who Signal is anyways, being from a different dimension, but it’s the principle of the matter.
Signal laughs when he sees Danny’s attempt to keep from looking at him. A warm hand wraps around his wrist and gently pulls it away. “It’s okay, Danny, you can look,” he says. “It would be pretty weird if my own husband didn’t know my face.”
Slowly, giving Signal to change his mind, Danny opens his eyes. He moves his gaze up, going from Signal’s armor to his face, his very cute face and his warm brown eyes, and Danny stares for a moment. 
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Hi,” Signal says, fondness coloring his voice. “My name’s Duke. Are all Ghost Kings as cute as you?”
“Duke,” Danny repeats. “Hi. Um, no. The last one really sucked, actually, which is why I fought him. He was so bad the Infinite Realms didn’t want him anymore, so though I technically didn’t beat him in single combat, it was enough for the Infinite Realms to kick him out and get me on the throne.”
“Man, I can not wait to hear more of your stories. Think we got time for that while we search for a way to undo that marriage vow?”
Taking his chance, Danny says, “Sure! It’s a date.”
He’s awarded by Duke’s bright smile and idly wonders how long he can keep them married. Hopefully long enough for them to get into a real relationship where he can propose properly. And then he can get Jazz’s blessing too—
“Oh shit,” Danny realizes. 
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I need to tell my sister or she’s going to actually kill me.”
Duke winces. “And I should probably tell the others before Spoiler makes a mess of things… B is not going to be happy with me.”
They share a despairing look, already dreading the amount of scoldings they’re both going to get. He’s not looking forward to it.
“...Put it off until tomorrow?”
Duke nods. “Yeah. That’s a tomorrow problem. For now, how about a late dinner?”
“Sounds perfect.”
. . .
[send me a ghostlights prompt!]
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aggiehufflepuff · 11 months
Text
John Constantine was usually on the other side of a Summons. He was the one usually drawing the circle, chanting the chant, dribbling the blood over the runes.
John Constantine was usually the Summoner. He had never, in his very long life, ever been the Summonee. Hell, he hadn’t even thought he could be Summoned. Yet, here he was, in the middle of what was obviously a throne room with bright green walls, eerie blue-flamed torches, and a huge black knight with purple hair-like flames around his head standing at the foot of a dais, hand on the pommel of his giant black sword.
“Yo, Frighty, the dude here yet?” A tall black kid strode into the hall, head down as he messed around on a tablet. The ankh pectoral over his shirt glinted eerily in the strange light.
“Yes, Lord Foley,” boomed the black knight, “the renegade John Constantine has arrived!”
The kid, Lord Foley, looked up and, seeing John, grinned. “Sweet! I’ll get Danny.” Then, without so much as hello, Foley turned on his heel and trotted right back out.
John eyed the knight. “Wanna tell me what I’m doing here?”
“His Majesty Phantom, High King of the Infinite Realms, Lord Commander of the Dead, Protector of the Grave, has Summoned you.”
“Yeah, got that. Why?” John desperately wished he had a cigarette. If he’d been summoned by the High bloody King of the Infinite bloody Realms, he was fucked. Sure, he knew a new king took over from Pariah Dark—thank you Etrigan and Boston Deadman for that update—but he had never actually wanted to meet the guy.
“Silence!”
“Hey, Frights, thanks for watching him.” A new kid, silver haired and wearing a black bodysuit, floated through the door.
John stared at the kid. And stared. And stared. Because what he was seeing wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. There was absolutely no way some string bean high school-looking kid had the Crown of Fire floating above his head. Absolutely not.
The kid stopped midair, floating in front of John, peering at him with the wide-eyed curiosity of a child. “So, you’re the off-brand Voldemort.”
What the fuck?
John had absolutely no response to that.
The knight’s purple fire hair flared. “Answer His Majesty!”
“I’m John Constantine,” he said because, shit, what else was he going to do? If he really was in the Infinite Realms, he was so screwed. Magic didn’t work in the Infinite Realms. The whole dimension existed outside of time and space, connected to every-where, every-when, all at once. Hell, this was the place actual gods went to retire and this kid wearing the Crown of Fire—and, yep, that was the Ring of Rage right there on his hand—was the bloody High King. John Constantine may be careless but he wasn’t suicidal.
The kid beamed. “Great! I’m Danny Phantom and I wanna make a deal.”
John blinked. “What?”
“I wanna make a deal,” repeated Danny.
The neon green eyes and guileless smile set John on edge. “What kind of deal?”
“I own every piece of your soul and I’ll give it all back if you do one teeny tiny favor for me.”
That uneasy, spine tingling, something-bad-is-definitely-about-to-happen feeling crawling up John’s spine and writhing in his gut? Yeah, John wished he had spent more time listening to that feeling because now he was stuck. Still, he’d spent way too much time making deals. He wasn’t going to commit until he knew all the details. “What kind of favor?”
“Get rid of the Ecto-Acts and Guys in White.”
John blinked. “The what?”
“The Ecto-Acts and the Guys in White,” Danny repeated. “Seriously messed up laws and even more messed up government agency. My hometown is so contaminated with ectoplasm we don’t even register as human anymore. We’re all liminal. I had to pull us all into the GZ to keep people from getting vivisected. So, you and the Justice League need to get rid of the Acts and the GIW.”
John considered Danny. “What if I say no?”
The friendly smile dropped. Danny fixed John with a centuries-old stare of stars and cold and infinite darkness.
“Ị̴̮͐̏̔ ̛̪͎̤̺ͨͮͦ̇o͓̦̰̩̘͎̓͒ͫ͞w̱̲̻ͣ͌̕n̠͖̋̉̆̋͘ ̨͎̺̤̩ͨ͐y͆̉ͦ̎҉̦̬̞̮͈͈͖̮ợ̩͇ͣ̈́͛u̵͍̺̯̻̿r̛̺̹̳̠̫̼̩̺ͩͭ ̷̘̙̮̼̤͉̻̑s͕̝̓̈́͆͜o̵̪̜͔̙̔ṷ̦̩̻̳͂͂͢ͅl̶̯̦̺̼ͨ,̨͎͓͖̥͔̤͐̏ͯ ̺̯̬͎̑́ͯͤ̕J̱͎̜̭̰̍͡o͈̠̘̜ͭ̋ͧ͜h̗͍̖͑͒ͣ̚͘n͚̖̳̗̩͔ͥ̎͗͞ ̷̼̫͙̟ͨC͋͂͋̽҉̞̬̞̜͕̳o̪͎͈̤͚͍̦͖͂͋͟n̡̹̜͚̗͒ͅs̡̰̼̮̲͙̜͓̩ͮ͐t̶̪̻̝̙̯̞ͦ͂ͧa̗̞̹̒̌̕n̨̳͉̱̺̦ͨͨ͛t̻͙͎̖̲̦̗̺̆̀ȉ̥̲̦ͣ͌̀n̺̱̘̜̓̊͡e͐҉̟̘̜̘͉̱,” said the High King of the Infinite Realms, voice echoing in the massive hall and, somehow, inside John’s head. “B̡̳̱͎͎͕̭̖ͤͮͅy̠͖̝͓̣̯͚̓͊̒̀ ̧͍͕͎͈̈́ͅR̷̩̟̘̩̲̖̙̲̽ͥͫi͍̘ͫ̏̈́̔͝g̀͏̪̙͇̫̬h̖̜͚͎̩̖́̏́ṭ̥̳̤͈̚͟ ̸̰̣͓̪̰̙̋͗̈͑o̶̫͓ͬ͊͗f̞͍̰ͭ̒̔̐͡ ̭̟̯ͦ͜ͅYͩ͆̒ͮ͏͈̝o̡̖̖̱͌u̸̥͍͙̮̞͕ͯͣ̅r̵̪͚͉̯̺ͯ ̨̜͕̪͒͊̈́̉O̭͍͔̪̥̞ͬ͜w̠̘̾̈͡n̸͓̣̳̑͒̓ ̝͚̼̻̝̭͚̊ͦ͝ͅC̪̪̦̭͚͋͢o͍̞̅ͧ͝n̦̪͍̜̞ͦͭ͌͑́s̛͖̙̜̱͍̩͕̝̓e̯̲̝͇̭̝ͥͦ̽ͫ́nͧ͏̞̞͍̦̰͉̪̘t͆̆̂͏̙̫ ̅ͣ҉̦͉̗̦͚͙͕̺y̩̹̬̙ͣͯ̊͜ỏ̯̪̦̇ͯͤ͡u̞̝̗̱̿̃͢ ̭̜̊̃ͤ̀ͅa͇̰͚̻ͬͩ̋̏́ṟ̡͕̞͙͓̾̀̀e̢͖͚͈ͯͧ̀̈́ ̢̮̣̭͚̜̏ͥb̢̖͍ͪ͒̑͊o̶͖͓̓̈́̚ͅų̜̝̈́̋n̨̖̫͈͎̱̱̜̔̏̀d̛̬̩̱͉̻̣ͦ͂ ̴͍͈̝͈̥̙̩͎̔̒ͫt̺̞͑͞o͙̬̮̿͌͒ͦ͞ ͖̳̦̫ͣ̀m̪̹̫̟̫̘̪̿ͤ́̚ͅỵ̡͕̣̳̃ ̷̹̳ͦͤ̄̄w̴̱̱̤̙̔͌̒i̖̦̮͙̭̫͙̠͒̊͐ͦ͝l̂҉̯̱͇̘l̵͇͙̮̻̙̦̄̈̑ͣͅ.̴̟̟̮̂ͤ ̷̼̬͌͂̅A̰̦̝̬͌́n̋ͫ̓҉̳̗̦͖̺͖̖d͐҉̬̞͕̪̤̼,̳͔͌͌̒̃̕ ̛̗͕̩̺̯̹̠̘ͪ̓į͈̲̈́f̣͚̭̖͚́̊̊͢ͅ ̶̳̗͎͉̓̉y̠̪͙̯̮̙͗͊̋̀ö̴̦̝͈̣́ͫų͓̜̭̥̙ͮ̿̓͆ͅ ̿͏̝͇ͅͅḏ̢͎̩̬̯̤͛ͨo̹̙͙̱ͫ̃ͯͯ͢ ̮̯̂͟n͔̹̘̝͔̭ͫ͋̓͡o̪͙͚̭̳͛́ẗ̘̭́̀ͬ̈́͡ ̹̭͚͖͎ͨ̆͡s̺̜̟̖̬̝̤̬ͪ͟ü̴̜̫̟͙̘̣̟̚ĉ̡̹̺͚c̗̜̝̹̫ͮ̊͒̀e̖̺͚̩͐͡ȩ̦̪̫̦̠̬̥͐̌d̰͉̘̲̒̀̑͋͠,̺̩͓̻̗̰͎̑͝ ̢͖͓̼̦ͣ̈̔̽i̭̬͓̙̼̟̓̚͡f͖͓̲͋͠ ̴͓̭̦͎̓͂͊͆y̸͔̺̤̯͙̽o̫̻ͯ̉̾͂̕u̧̫͇̮̝͔̠͒ͅ ̳͉͉͔̀̍͑͟a̙̞ͫ̆͞n̮͇̯̆͟d̴̠̰̘́ͥ̑ͅ ̛̬͎̩̻̞͈̟̘̿t̴̲͈̤̱͍̊̚h̜̣̺̯̯̫͒͘e̸̮̻͎͂̅̏͊ ̡͈̱̹̲͔̳̉J̧̼̭̦̼̹ͦͪͤͩù̢̠̟͚̤̯̥̊̈ŝ̬͇͋́t̻̰̤̘̘ͧ͡į͓̦̪ͦ̀͗ͣc̵̭̣̹̜͉̪̔̓ẽ̥̮͡ ̵̜͙͖̘ͭͥL̛̫͈̜͓̰͓̮̒͋̑ͅe͔̲͗ͯ͢a̴̫̞͈͚̲͒̓̊̑ǧ̦͓̝͕ͭ͂̀ù̸̜̰͙͔̟̥ȩ̹̺̭ͭ̈́ͥ̇ ̯̺̖͇͔̐̾͜f͕̺̓͘ͅa̍̎̓̓҉̜͚͕̪̣͍̜̳ĩ̡͎̘̹͙͇̮ͦ͊l̸̞̬͒,̛̙̻͖̱̤̒́ ̢̥̱̄ͅt̴̮͖͎͖̫͓͎ͥ̈h̜̰̝̦͙̫̩̱ͥ̀͑ͮ͘ẻ̵͔̣̼͕̰̲̟ ̵̫͓̤͉̞̲̓̆ͪ͌H̨͕̼̘̮̋ü̝̹͇̤̫͓͋̀m̵̲͓̱̰̼ͫͫͯ̀a̧̙̮̬̭͛n̲̙̝̞̟̦͇̒̾͟ ̶̘̘̺̍̎̈́̇W̛̹̻̫̜̃̄̑o̝̼͛͟r̴̗͚͕͈̗̟̒̿ͥ̚ͅl̸̠̤͙͈͖̩̙̹̔̓̚d̲̩̼͙̩͓͊̉͡ ̞̱͂͑͗͡ẅ̻̟̦͖̹͓̖́ͨ͞i̶̠͕ͯ̿͌ͭl̝̹͕̱͈̟͔̙ͩͣͥ̕ḷ̢̱̖̠̙ͣͅ ̸̮̹̘̱̖̯̣̦̓ͣ͗h̶̠̦̆ͅa̻̘̙̦̥̝̻̒͛͞v̵͖̩ͯ̈ͫě̛̫͎̳͓̙͔ͥͥ̇ ͓̟̗̜̪́͢d̘̻̹̺̳̫̣̬ͤ̋̾ͭ̕e̸̖̬͛ͮc̷͈͇̜̪̬̔ļ̞̤̱͍͈̥̎ͮͩa͔͔͖̣͇͎̺̅̔̕r͔̻͎̭̟̟̙̙ͤ͡ẹ̶͓̗͑̌d̻̯̠̩̝̳́̈̑̀ ̦͓̝͔̼̊̓̕W̬̠̙ͩ̆ͤ̽͟ä̹̯́ͪ̑͡r̢͚̙̘͖͙̽ͪ ̧̳̘̣̿͌ͣo͒͒͏̗̺n̝̯̟ͦ͌͐̕ ̖̫̾̽͐͋͜t̰̮̤̮̣͉̅̔̄͡h̜͇̟̠ͮ͜êͤ҉̤̜̮̯̪͉̮ͅ ̵̻͓ͧ̌͐̏Ĭ̷̲͉̟̩̓̂n̢͎̯̿ͧf̛̦̠͙̖͎̊ͥ̄̌ͅį̘̦͉̫̓̿ͨn̢̼̖͉͕̣̦̗̽i̺̮͍̩̭͐ͫ͠t͋҉͙͇̬̤e̳͓̎͂̀ ̶͍̞̗͖̻̥͔̤͌̎ͫR͚͓͌̐́ḛ̛̤͈̻̩͓̼̲ͤa̟͔̠̝̺̦ͧͥ͟l͉̹̼̈́́m̹̖̿̓͞s̢̭̬͍̙͈̖͓̔̾̿.̬̰͚̖̯ͮ͘ͅ”
“Right,” John managed to drawl even as he desperately wanted to scream and run, maybe crawl out of his own skin, whatever got him away from the High King. “War bad. Got it.”
The High King of the Infinite Realms held out his hand, infinity stare still fixed firmly on John. “D̨͉͇̦͊̆̅o̮̬͓̯̦̒̓͋͐͢ ̤̥̓ͪ̕w̴͉̩̰̰̐̍̾e̸̩ͮ͆̅̏ͅ ̬͖̦̻̥͋͜h̾͒̔͏͎̮͈͓̰͕ȧ̴̭̳͓͙̖v̢̠̮͍̫̓ͨ͑ę͕̘̘̰̯͒ ̴̥̮̟̝͒̆̂ͥa̭̳̼͉̬̟̺̫̎͠ ͍̞̼̍͆ͧ̅͝ḑ͕͉͕̫̫͙̮̈̓ͅe̛͉̻̣̋̊̓̈́ͅȃ̌҉͉͕̟͍̘l͎͓͙̼̏̆ͮ̂͠?̩͔͇̮͇̮̄ͨ̎̕”
John swallowed. He took the High King’s hand with a confidence he definitely did not feel. “Deal.”
Fuck. He needed a drink.
4K notes · View notes
fernsnailz · 7 months
Text
it's time... for the TEAM DARK FEST! 💥💥💥💥
me and @serpentineshine are hosting a little tournament to finally determine who the best Team Dark member is! this week there's gonna be goofs, bits, and even a special prize for the winner 👀
however, the most important prize of all is what awaits at the end of the festival! ...but that's a secret right now.
💥 cast your vote below! 💥
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(oh also if anyone makes any propaganda for their fav character. tag me i wanna see)
video transcript below the cut! ⬇️
A blue announcement screen with scrolling text reads “SPECIAL FENSNAILZ ANNOUNCEMENT.” There’s a looping animation of Squeak the cat in the middle. It disappears, cutting to a shot of a studio space.
In the studio, SNAIL, SHINE, SQUEAK, and a VASH PLUSH all sit at a desk with a large CRT TV on it. Squeak and Vash are on top of the TV, and shelves with various items line the walls. Everyone seems to be unaware that the camera is rolling - Snail is reading the script, Shine is drinking from a mug, and Squeak is licking her butthole. Vash remains motionless.
Snail notices the camera zooming in, and throws away the script in a moment of panic. Shine and Squeak sit up to face the camera as well.
SNAIL: Coming at you pre-recorded, it’s Snail, Shine, and The Beasts!
SHINE: We’re here today to announce a special tournament we’re hosting: the TEAM DARK FEST!
SQUEAK: Eep!
VASH: weemp womp :]
SNAIL: You know ‘em, you love ‘em-
SHINE: Or hate them.
SNAIL: It’s all about TEAM DARK this week! Fellas, turn on that TV!
The camera cuts to a close-up of the TV as the screen flips on. Three shitty photos of each Team Dark member appear on the TV under the question “Who is the best member of Team Dark?” Every Team Dark member’s name is misspelled underneath the photos.
SHINE: Time for the ULTIMATE question: Who is the best Team Dark member?
SNAIL: Oof. We’re turning them against each other, huh? That’s dramatic.
SQUEAK: Meep! (HOLY SHIT)
The camera zooms out to a wide view of the studio, but zooms out much further than needed for a split second. For some reason, this is all being filmed on a green screen set, and the shelves behind the cast seem to be edited in. Not only that, but this studio is either widely over-staffed or widely under-staffed, because the boom mic is held by seven Chao stacked on top of each other. The camera zooms into a closeup of Snail before much of this information can be processed.
SNAIL: Well, it’s obviously Shadow. I told him if he won, I would get him ice cream after soccer practice!
The camera pans over to Shine.
SHINE: No way, vote for Rouge! She can carry like. Nineteen mountain lions. Give or take
The camera pans over to Squeak and Vash. Squeak points at a crude drawing of Omega that seems to say “VOTE OMEGA.” It is upside down. Vash holds a cute little sign that says “I <3 OMEGA” that he likely made himself.
SQUEAK + VASH: ?????????????? (we didn’t hire anyone to translate this part.)
Back in a wide shot, Snail and Shine stare blankly at Squeak and Vash. Squeak licks her butthole again. Vash is now Real. Someone off-screen sneezes very convincingly.
SHINE: This poll will run for ONE WEEK before we announce the winner! So little time…
SNAIL: Everyone make your vote count! The winner of this festival will have a special page in my… 
An image of a porcelain snail appears over a white background as an echo-y human voice says “SECRET UPCOMING PROJECT.”
VASH: bweep bwaa :] (Yay! Prizes!)
SHINE: The final verdict will be decided by Twitter AND Tumblr, so commit as much voter fraud as you please!
Squeak bites Vash and he screams. They both fall off the TV and make a surprising amount of noise. Snail and Shine stare in shock.
SNAIL: See you in seven days! And hey, if you want to participate… tag me in any propaganda you make to fight for your favorite Team Dark member!
Squeak and Vash explode.
2K notes · View notes
Bro how would they react if they found out u got pregnant? Cuz yk their pirates and stuff so what would they do? U can do whoever but ik i want shanks, zoro, and mihawk you can do other people or not do the ones or dont do this at all👍 i want i jus want you to be comfortable writing this if you want to write it at all😭
I enjoyed writing this SO MUCH, thank you for the request!!
I just did Zoro, Shanks, and Mihawk for now. May end up doing one for Sanji and Buggy as well if anyone wants, but since I ended up writing these as little short stories instead of headcanons, I just decided to focus on those three this time.
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Shanks is already such a dad honestly I lub him <3
So here we gooooo
Whoops
OPLA! Zoro, Shanks, Mihawk x AFAB!Reader
SFW, so fluffy I'm suffocating
Wordcount: 4.6k
No warnings, I think?
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Zoro
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It took you some time to dredge up the nerve to tell him. It was just a one night stand, after all. A lot of alcohol involved, nothing special. Sure, maybe you’d had a crush on him for a while, but that was in no way relevant. The incorrigible amount of liquor you had consumed had more than done the trick of acting as liquid courage, given you had awoken the next morning in his hammock, both of you stark naked, just a hungover tangle of limbs with no real memory of anything past making out on the quarterdeck while everyone else was staying the night in town.
That had been awkward enough—your eyes locking as you both stirred awake, your face turning beet reed as you scrambled off the green-haired swordsman and quickly threw on enough of your clothes to be able to safely escape, him speaking up behind you as you hurriedly dressed yourself.
“Did we—uh—”
“No idea,” had been your quick, curt response, making sure you didn’t turn around and meet his eye again. “Bye.”
“Wh—? Wait a minute—”
But you had already been out the door. You spent the following days, the following weeks avoiding being alone with the first mate of the Strawhats under any circumstance, avoiding any situation where you might have to actually talk about what had happened between the two of you.
But now you had to talk.
Middle of the night, with everyone else safely asleep so they couldn’t overhear, you stood over him as he lay asleep himself in that same hammock. You stood there for a long, tense moment, arms crossed tight over your stomach, tapping your foot lightly as you looked down at Zoro, deliberating over whether you really had the guts to go through with this.
You decide you have no choice, and you nudge his arm. “Wake up,” you say quietly.
He snores in response.
You sigh to yourself, and nudge his shoulder a little harder, say it again a little more forcefully. “Wake up, come on—”
He gives a small growl of protest at that, rolling his shoulders and stretching his toned arms out behind his head, before tucking one hand under his neck. He squints at you in the small, dark cabin, blinking slowly. The groggy, astonished sort of manner in which he mumbles your name makes your heart skip for a moment.
“Wha…?” He glances past you toward the cabin door, toward the darkness outside on the deck, and asks, “What time is it?”
“Two in the morning.” He quirks an eyebrow as you toe the wooden floor, staring off to the side, biting your lip. “We…need to talk.”
“At…two in the morning,” he repeats slowly. You hum in affirmation and give a small nod, already feeling your face starting to heat up—and you hear him sigh.
Then his hand is around your forearm, and you’re gasping out in alarm as he pulls you down across his chest until your eyes are level with his, your foreheads nearly touching.
His hand slips further up your arm, up your shoulder, back behind your neck, and your blush only grows hotter as he gives you a smirk. “Don’t think there’s really much to talk about.”
And he pulls you down, seizing your lips with his own.
Your brain all but short-circuits. You can barely remember how to breathe as your thoughts whirl. He kissed you. There isn’t a drop of alcohol involved this time, and he still kissed you.
Don’t think there’s really much to talk about.
Maybe that crush of yours was more mutual than you thought it was.
Your eyes flutter shut as you melt against him and return the kiss with a slow sigh, forgetting for a moment what you were doing here in the first place, your tongues meeting and swirling together, his hand drifting down your back, curling around the hem of your shirt and tugging at it and—
And this was exactly how you got into your present predicament in the first place. You tear your lips away from his and sit up at the edge of the hammock, flinching. “No, we…” You glance over your shoulder at him, briefly meeting his eyes as he stares up at you cautiously. “We do need to talk, I…” You swallow, and decide to just rip off the bandage, just say it. “I’m late.”
He’s silent for several seconds, and as you sit there, inwardly panicking, dreading his reaction, he finally speaks up.
“What the hell could you be late for at two in the morning?”
“What—no, I—” you sputter, jerking your head to look over your shoulder at him, sharing his stare of bafflement, as you realized he had no idea what you meant. “I…my period. I—is two weeks late.”
His brow furrows for a moment as that sinks in.
And his eyes slowly widen, and you look quickly away, flinching again, hanging your head.
“O…oh.” He sits up himself, swinging his legs over the side of the hammock to sit next to you, exhaling a slow sigh. “Shit.”
“Mmhmm,” you reply in a weak sort of hum, practically a whimper, watching him run a hand back through his hair from the corner of your eye, his eyes wide, unblinking, glued to the doorframe.
“I…guess it’s a good thing we’ve got a doctor now.” You glance over at him, swallowing nervously as he gives a small, breathless laugh, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for him to be upset about it, even angry. It was just a stupid, drunken one night stand, after all.
Wasn’t it?
Not really much to talk about. His words ring in your head as you watch him fall back across the width of the hammock with another laugh, resting a hand over his eyes. He said it right before he kissed you, sober this time, as if maybe…there was more to it than just an alcohol-fueled one off fling.
“Y…you’re not upset?” you ask carefully, looking down at him.
“Nah,” he says, laughing a little again. He lowers his hand down to rest over his abs, meeting your eyes with a little bit of a grin. “I mean, it is kinda my fault.”
“It takes two,” you point out, frowning.
“Yeah, but you were drunk.”
“We both were.”
“You were really drunk.” You purse your lips and shove at his ribs as he laughs again, sitting back up. He drapes his arm around your shoulders, sighing and shaking his head. “Shit.”
“Shit,” you agree, nodding. “I guess…we talk to Chopper in the morning and…figure things out from there?”
“Yeah. Guess so.” You’re both quiet for a long moment, staring out toward the darkened deck. “You know…” You glance over when he sighs slowly again. “This crew’s…pretty much the closest thing I’ve ever had to family. That most of us have had, probably. Whatever happens with…this—we’ll all have each other’s backs.”
He isn’t at all wrong, and the thought is enough of a comfort to bring a slow sigh of relief from you as well, a small smile to your lips. You shift a little closer and rest your temple at his shoulder, your hand over his, your eyes slipping shut.
“Anyway.,,” Your eyes open when he speaks, and without warning he pushes you back down into the hammock, pressing his lips to yours—and your eyes flutter shut again as his tongue brushes your bottom lip amid the slow, playful kiss.
“Wait—” You draw back from it just as abruptly as you were drawn into it, lifting an eyebrow, fighting a smirk. “Isn’t this sort of what got us into this situation to begin with?”
“Yeah,” he says, lowering himself down to his elbow. He smirks as well, his hand resting at the crown of your hair. “But it’s not like you can get any more pregnant.”
You can’t help but giggle at that, hooking your arm around his neck and shaking your head, smiling. “Fair enough,” you agree, and lift your head to press your lips to his again.
Shanks
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It all started three weeks ago, when you first missed your cycle. Your paranoia and anxiety that it could mean that, meant you had stopped drinking entirely. Shanks had been too busy to pick up on it, or simply as carefree and oblivious as ever.
But this morning you had awoken early, perhaps earlier than anyone else on the ship. You checked the position of the log posse and adjusted the course accordingly until it was pointing straight ahead again—and that was when you realized, by the sound of a match striking behind you, that you weren’t the first person awake—and someone had noticed the cessation of your drinking with the rest of the crew.
And almost the moment Benn Beckman confronted you about it, you blabbed your worries to the first mate, and you were fairly sure he nearly swallowed his cigarette.
“You’re what?”
You had joined the Red Hair pirates as a navigator around eight months ago, and had quickly fallen for the charming captain. There was no real agreement that there was anything more between the two of you than casual sex and flirting, nothing exclusive; but it hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice that the two of you were spending more and more time together, and that from an outsider’s point of view it looked a lot more like romance than anything casual.
But you were dead terrified that this news would ruin everything.
Beck just shook his head, grabbed you by the shoulder like a misbehaving child as you ranted, and walked you toward the door to the captain’s cabin. He opened it, and gestured at you to get in.
“You don’t come back out until you tell him,” he said, and you flinched at his stern tone. “Got it?”
“Got it…” you sighed wearily, hanging your head as you entered and shut the door lightly behind you. You had the idle hope that Shanks might be asleep as you entered but now, standing in the doorway, you can see clearly that he isn’t. He’s sitting up against the headboard of his bed—the same bed that you’ve been sharing every night for at least six months—and squinting at a map in the dim light of the lantern hanging from one of the bedposts, wearing an unbuttoned white shirt and black boxers. He looks up from it mid-yawn, and waves at you, nodding at the empty side of the bed to his right.
“You’re up awfully early,” he comments as you kick off your boots and climb into bed next to him.
“Just checking the course,” you say as he hands the map off to you—an old treasure map that you found helping clean out his rather cluttered desk a few weeks ago. “Any breakthroughs?”
“That.” He indicates a crude sketch of what appeared to be a statue. “It’s in Arabasta.”
“You’re sure?” you ask, looking over at him, and he nods slowly. “Oh, great. That’s…”
“Crocodile’s territory,” he says, as you let out a sigh that mirrors his own mildly dejected tone. “If we dock there we’ll be up to our tits in his Baroque Works wackjobs. Not that they’d pose us much of a threat, but…balance of power and all that.” He sighs himself, grabbing the map away from you again and tossing it off the side of the bed, where it flutters slowly to the floor a few feet away. “Not to mention it looks like it’s out in the middle of the desert somewhere. Not worth the time.”
“I guess not,” you say, frowning as you watch him sink back into the bed, his eyes slipping shut, unbothered by what might have been a disappointment to almost anyone else. He hadn’t mentioned the map to anyone else except for you and Beck, had kept it otherwise entirely to himself in case it did turn out to be a bust. Nothing ever really seemed to get under his skin.
You close your eyes for a long moment, bracing yourself. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t get under his skin either. Just as you open your mouth to speak, however, he speaks up himself.
“Now, something that’s much more worth my time…”
“Oh—!” You let out a small cry of alarm as he tugs you down suddenly to lie with him, and he shifts so he’s facing you, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his hand creeping slowly up your stomach to where the lapels of your shirt are tied shut, grinning wickedly.
“…is the beautiful woman in my bed who is, frankly, wearing far too many clothes.”
You can’t help but giggle a little as he sets straight to attacking your neck, his lips trailing down the column of your throat as he deftly works the knot loose, lightly nipping at your collarbone as he shifts you onto your back and brushes the lapels of your shirt open. Maybe you could drop it for now, just for now, you think disjointedly, your eyes slipping shut as his fingertips brush over one of the cups of your bra. Just until…
No. No, if you put it off again, you’re just going to keep putting it off.
“No—wait—” You grab his hand, pulling it away, and he lifts his head, raising his eyebrows in puzzlement. You swallow, glancing away for a moment before returning your gaze to meet his. “We…need to talk about something,” you say quietly.
The confusion in his eyes quickly shifts to concern at your hesitant tone, and he slowly lifts himself away from you, sitting up on his knees. “Alright,” he says, just as slowly, just as cautiously, looking at you as if you’re a ticking time bomb about to go off at any second. “What exactly is it that we—”
“I’m pregnant.”
You just blurt it out, before you can stop yourself, so suddenly that Shanks stops mid-sentence with his mouth hanging open. His eyes widen to saucers as he gawks at you, and he blinks rapidly a few times. “B—be—beg pardon?” he stammers.
You just swallow nervously and nod—you know he heard you. He draws in a deep breath, shoulders going limp, and lets it out after a moment as a tremendous sigh, running his hand back through his hair.
It was rare, if ever, that you had seen your carefree captain in an outright panic, but seconds later he was on his feet, pacing back and forth across the cabin, his hand curled over his mouth. You sit up as well, alternating between glancing at him and staring down at your knees, your stomach tied in knots. You’re sure that this is it, this is the end, this is your final stint sailing with the Red Hair pirates. A ship is no place for a child, after all, for a baby, for a woman with child—
He stops pacing suddenly, his hand slipping down to his chin. “Midwife. We’re going to need—that’s what they’re called, isn’t it?” You lift your head, staring at him in mild alarm as he resumes pacing, now rambling aloud. “We’ll need a midwife, I hardly think Hongo’s qualified—might know someone who is, but…” He shakes his head. “Still probably a good idea for you to talk to—have you?” he asks, stopping to look over at you, and you shake your head rapidly. The only inkling you have that you are pregnant is that you’ve gone well over a month without a period; you had been far too scared to talk with the ship’s doctor about the concern, afraid that he would go straight to Shanks and you would be shoved straight off the ship at the next populated port.
“We’ll need to set that up immediately,” he half-mumbles, and resumes pacing again. “How far along do you think you are?”
“I—er—” Your head is absolutely spinning. “M…maybe eight weeks?”
“Eight? That’s two months, tha—that means there’s only seven more, we’ll need—everything, crib, clothes, probably a rocking chair…”
You listen in growing astonishment as he rapidly lists off everything, already planning far more than you had even thought to, not even the slightest bit upset. He seems almost…excited. You swallow, exhaling a slow, shaking breath, your eyes burning a little as relief floods through you.
“…diapers—” He stops in his tracks again, lowering his hand from his chin and looking at it, frowning. “How am I supposed to change a diaper with one ha—”
He looks over sharply when a small sob escapes you before you can lift your hand to muffle it. You lower your head, closing your eyes tightly, gripping at the edge of the bed as that overwhelming flood of emotion becomes too much to contain.
“Oh—sweetheart…no, no no…” You hear him sigh, his footsteps quickly crossing the room. The bed sinks beside you as he sits down and wraps his arm around you, pulling you tight against his chest and resting his hand near the nape of your neck. “It’s alright, love,” he murmurs gently, combing his fingers through your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’s alright, we can handle this, okay?”
“I—I thought—” Your breath hitches as you turn your head so your cheek is pressed against his shoulder. “I thought you’d be mad,” you force out. “Th—that I’d—I’d have to leave and—and—”
He tightens his hold around your back, letting out a few soft chuckles and shaking his head. “That’s an absolutely ridiculous thing to think,” he tells you.
“It…didn’t seem ridiculous to me,” you say quietly, your voice choked.
“Well, it is,” he assures you again. “I don’t—look, love.” He shifts his hand from the nape of your neck to your cheek, lifting your head and pressing his forehead against yours. His thumb wipes away the tears streaming down your face, and he smiles warmly. “I don’t want you anywhere but right here. With me. Okay?” Your breaths leaves you in a trembling sigh at the sincerity in his soft tone, the softness in his brown eyes as he gazes into yours. You swallow, and nod quickly, closing your eyes for a long moment.
You draw in a sharp breath in surprise when you feel his lips press lightly against yours in a slow, tender kiss that eases almost all of your tension away in an instant. one of your hands slipping from your lap to rest against his knee as your lips just barely part.
“I love you,” he murmurs, and the knots in your stomach are gone as he lowers his hand to rest it there, smiling. “And we can handle this.”
“I…I love you too,” you whisper, and his smile only broadens at that.
He kisses you again, more firmly this time, before standing suddenly from the bed.
Before you can fully register what’s happening, he’s already heading out the door of the cabin and out onto the quarterdeck, calling out loudly, “Lads, I have an anno—where is everyone?”
You hear Beck scoff from somewhere nearby. “It’s four in the damn morning,” he says. “Probably sleeping.”
“Ah. Right.” A brief pause, and then Shanks goes on, so happily you can practically hear him grinning, “I’m going to be a dad.”
“Yeah,” says Beck. “Congratulations. Now maybe go put on some damned pants.”
“…Right.”
Mihawk
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You already know he isn’t going to be happy. After your first missed period, you mentioned children. Merely in passing.
And he had immediately expressed his gratitude that there would never be any of the vile creatures roaming the halls of his castle.
Another three weeks, and you don’t have a choice but to bring it up. You’re losing sleep over it and he’s noticed, because of course he’s noticed. Mihawk doesn’t seem to miss anything, where you’re concerned—except perhaps this, which he seems to have not one single suspicion of.
You lay back on a plush sofa in one of the dens, your head resting in his lap as he sips a cup of coffee and flips through the newspaper, your eyes barely open. All you want to do is sleep. You’ve barely slept in a damned week, his words haunting you every time you do, his potential reaction to this upheaval of the peaceful existence you have both lived at his castle for the past several months.
“It’s likely because you’ve stopped having a glass of wine before bed,” he says, and you sigh to yourself. You had outright lied on that account, told him that for no reason you could discern you were suddenly getting horrible headaches any time you consumed even a drop of alcohol. “It’s been almost two months, you could try again.”
“N…no,” you say. “I can’t.”
He lifts the newspaper and glances down at you, lifting his eyebrows—waiting for you to elaborate. It’s now or never. You pull yourself up, drawing up every ounce of resolve in your body to meet his eyes as he looks at you in growing perplexity, his sharp eyes darting briefly down from your gaze as you bite your bottom lip lightly.
“I…can’t because…” You’re already feeling lightheaded, already reeling from the threat of what may come to pass. “Because I’m pregnant.”
His eyes remain locked onto yours for several tense seconds. He slowly folds down his newspaper and sets it aside on the end table. Slowly, gently as if you’re made of porcelain, he moves a hand down to your shoulder and lightly pushes you up into a sitting position. He opens his mouth, lifting his hand as if about to speak…and closes it again.
He tries once more, and words seem to fail him yet again.
And then he stands from the couch abruptly, without a word, and strides out of the room.
You’re fairly sure you know where he’s headed. You pull in a slow, deep breath, steeling your nerves to the best of your ability, before your rise to follow him. Surely enough, as you expected, you find him in the kitchen, pulling the cork out of a half-full bottle of wine. He glances briefly over his shoulder as you enter.
“How did this happen?” His tone is level, but you notice how he fills his wine glass nearly to the rim.
“Well, you see, when a man and a woman—” The glare he levels upon you shares none of your attempted humor, so you just sigh, leaning back against the kitchen island and crossing your arms. “Probably after that warlord meeting a couple months ago?”
“…Ah.”
That’s all he says on that matter—there isn’t much else to say. Whatever had happened at the meeting was a mystery to you, but it evidently had gone very poorly and been an absolute waste of his time, as he had returned to Kuraigana Island that evening in a bit of a foul mood and set immediately to downing two and a half bottles of wine. You had joined him in the endeavor, and the rest of the night was more than a bit of a blur. You only really knew that you both woke up on a couch rather than your bed the following morning, that you yourself could barely walk from the stiffness in your thighs, and that you had both bickered lightly through your shared hangover about who was going to get up to make coffee, before both giving up and going back to sleep for more than half the day.
“Well. This is…”
He doesn’t seem to be quite sure what it is, so he takes a sip from his overfull wine glass instead, leaning back against the counter opposite you, staring at the wall but clearly not actually seeing it. His eyes are far away, unfocused.
“…unexpected,” he finishes finally.
And takes another sip of wine.
“Mmhmm,” you hum in agreement, both your hands gripping at the counter behind you. You pull yourself up to sit there, your gaze glued to him, carefully studying his face for any sign of emotion, any reaction, but there’s nothing—just that blank, miles away stare. “S…so…what do you…what should we…” His eyes shift over to you, but only briefly, before shifting down to his wine glass.
“I…” He cringes slightly before going on, as if the admission physically pains him, “…don’t know.”
You know there are two things that Mihawk hates above all else in life—unexpected news, and a lack of control. Right now, experiencing both at once in tremendous measure, you can almost see the thin thread of his patience beginning to fray, and you aren’t sure what might happen when it breaks.
You swallow nervously, lowering your eyes when his gaze shifts over to you again.
You hear him sigh in resignation.
“We’ll need to find a doctor immediately to be sure,” he says curtly, and you give a stiff nod in agreement, glancing up at him. He’s staring down at his wine glass again, and continues to do so in silence for several long, tense seconds.
“You’re angry,” you say quietly. He sighs again, shaking his head, and sets the glass on the counter behind him. Your eyes fall to your knees once more as he crosses the kitchen toward you, and shift over to your hand when he rests his over it.
“Not with you,” he says lightly. There’s something different about his tone, but it isn’t anger. It almost frightens you more when you recognize it as uncertainty. You’ve never seen him uncertain about anything.
He pulls your hand lightly, and you slip off of the counter and onto your feet, sighing slowly yourself as he tugs you back against him, his arm curling around your waist. He brushes your hair behind your ear, behind your shoulder, and your eyes slip shut as his lips graze your neck. “I’m not sure if I possess the skillset necessary to be a very…adept parent,” he murmurs.
You can’t help but chuckle a little at that, relaxing back against him as his lips brush your neck again, a silent reassurance that he genuinely isn’t upset with you. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” You rest one of your hands over his at your waist; and you bring your other up, curling your fingers in his hair near his temple. “I can hear it now,” you say airily, smirking a little, and you go on in a mimicry of his dry, deadpan tone, “’Now, now, we’ve already established Daddy’s cross necklace is not a toy.” You giggle at his irritated sigh, as he pulls his arm tighter around your waist.
“Then again,” he says, “I do have to deal with you being a brat every day and I’ve yet to murder you.”
“See?” You pat his cheek lightly, and he grabs your hand to stop you. “Good practice.” You lean to the side a bit and turn your head, smirking at the wry look he gives you, and pressing your lips to his lightly for a moment. He exhales a slow sigh as your lips part, tilting his head forward until your foreheads touch. “We’ll figure it out,” you murmur softly.
“Yes…” His fingers lace through yours. “I suppose we will.”
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jamminvroomvroom · 5 months
Text
in the middle of nowhere.
ln x fem!reader
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in which you get the wrong idea in the middle of nowhere, so lando finally pops the question.
hello again! two fics in three days, unhinged jas is back 🤭 right so anyways, here you go! i love this concept so much and i hope you do too, lemme know what you think!
this can absolutely count as part two to everything if you want it to!
songs to set the mood: green eyes::siena by nothing but thieves, fearless by taylor swift, white ferrari by frank ocean, to love by suki waterhouse
warnings: 18+ minors dni! smut, angst for a sec, fluff, bit of choking, reader being stupid, lando also being stupid, then being so sickeningly in love, car sex hehe
2.1k words
the proposal
lando could see it now, the picture clear in his mind. the lines of your dress, clean and white. a veil that flowed, lacy and intricate. your eyes meeting his as you ascended towards him, ready to be bound together in life and love by two silver bands.
all you had to do was say yes. all he had to do was ask.
it was simple enough, getting down on one knee, bowing down before the woman he cherished with everything he had. the planning, however, that went into asking the question was eating him alive.
lando thought that he’d nailed it, finally landing on that one big idea that you’d remember for the rest of your lives. the perfect moment where he’d pledge to be yours forever.
little did he know that while the preparation was killing him slowly, it was also killing you.
-
the car ride was quiet.
lando tried to remain neutral, hiding his nerves and excitement. today was the day, you were en route to a small vineyard in the south of france. the drive from your monaco apartment wasn’t too far, but it was long enough for the pair of you to slip into silence. lando perceived it to be comfortable, glancing at you every now and then, noticing how you were taking in the countryside.
he tried not to concern himself over the way you were fiddling with your hair, chewing at your fingernails. you didn’t seem to notice the way he was watching you, eyes flirting between where you sat and the road ahead. he was more concerned by the dark cloud gathering ahead, but found some hope in the way the sunlight broke through, casting beams of light every which way.
the road was dead, not another car for miles. lando felt like you were the only two people in the world, manoeuvring the vintage lamborghini through the winding lanes, the overhanging trees casting curious shadows. it felt like a fairytale, until, of course, it didn’t.
“do you still love me, lando?” you choked out, finally turning to look at him.
lando slammed the brakes, hard. the way they screeched in protest told him that he’d be dropping a large sum into his mechanics bank account, but he couldn’t find an ounce of care, not when the woman he adored was asking such gut wrenching questions.
“what?” lando spat, delirious with confusion. his eyes were wide, wild with fear. “i- what?” he repeated himself, heart beating dangerously fast, and not in the usual way it did when you spoke.
“you just… are you breaking up with me?” your eyes were brimming with tears, lip quivering ever so slightly, but you stayed strong.
“are you serious?” lando was bewildered. “why would you think that?” he was wracking his brain for anything he’d done wrong.
“you’ve been so distant, at first i thought- well i don’t know what i thought, i just feel like you’re slipping away from me.” you sounded like the shell of your usual self, distraught in the face of it all ending. lando was too.
“baby, i’m so sorry. you’ve got it all wrong, i promise.” lando turned in his seat towards you, quickly checking his mirror as he did, safety first. he grabbed your hands, eyes meeting yours as he tried to convey reassurance.
“why have you been like this, then? have i done something wrong?” and so the troubleshooting began.
lando clenched his teeth, wondering how on earth he could explain his way out of this one without completely letting the cat out of the bag. it seemed that while he was planning perfection, he’d been neglecting you and he felt painfully stupid.
“i can’t… well, i can’t say.” lando replied, voice laced with hesitation. you frowned at his lack of explanation, head tilted in confusion.
“you can’t say? well that’s reassuring.” you bit back sarcastically. “if you don’t want me anymore, i’d rather you just tell me now.”
lando couldn’t believe what he was hearing. three years. three years you’d been together, and he was sure he’d loved you even longer. he was shocked that you thought that low of him, that he’d treat you so poorly, stringing you along. he could admit to himself that he’d made a bit of a mess of this, but he couldn’t accept that you thought he didn’t love you.
lando lived and breathed you.
“are you serious? you think i don’t want you?” his mind was moving a million miles an hour, and it spurred him on to make his next move. “get out the car.”
lando swung his door open, bounding round the door to open your door. there was a little velvet box burning a hole in his pocket, and he could feel it getting hotter with every stride he took. you stared at him dumbfounded when he took your hand, pulling you out of the car and into the road. you glanced around nervously, making sure you weren’t about to cause a car crash, but the coast was clear.
he pulled you into his chest, holding you close, eyes fixed on yours, his own a little teary now.
“you think i don’t want you? god.” lando sighed, shaking his head. one of his hands snaked down to his pocket. “you are the only person i will ever want. i didn’t want to do this here, had a whole plan and everything, but that means nothing to me if the woman i love thinks i don’t want her.”
his little speech had knocked the air out of you, and as he sunk down onto one knee, the colours of the sun hitting him so beautifully, you realised just how wrong you had been.
“baby, from the moment i met you, i knew. i knew you were gonna be my person, i just didn’t even imagine that you’d feel the same way. these years with you have been the best fucking years of my life, and i knew from the beginning that i wanted you by my side through it all.”
he was grinning up at you, a ball of nerves and curls, a few tears falling. you were a river, weeping over him, one hand clutching over your heart, the other fallen to your side.
“maybe i got it wrong, and i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry. but i’m asking what i’ve wanted to ask for a ridiculously long time.” lando breathed. “will you marry me?”
you blinked, once, twice, choking out breaths between sobs. you dragged him up from the ground, kissing him with everything you had left. it was passionate, heavy with pent up emotion, and you never wanted to let him go. you cupped his face, keeping you together when you broke apart.
“yes, lando.” you whispered. “of course.” he slipped the ring onto your finger, a perfect, effortless fit, and then you were kissing him again, as close as could be, his hands all over you.
that’s when you felt the first drops of rain, the clouds finally breaking, just as they’d been threatening to all day.
“oh, fuck.” lando muttered, ready to pull you back to the car, but you wanted this moment to last.
“it doesn’t matter.” you said, letting the droplets coat your flushed skin. lando just smiled, relief washing over him like the rain.
you were engaged. fuck the rain.
and so, there you were, getting your very own movie moment, kissing in the rain with the love of your life, your fiancé, the man you would spend the rest of your life with. the sun still broke through the clouds, bathing you in light as the rain splattered against the damp ground. the leaves of the trees seemed to glisten, water droplets casting twinkles like fairy lights all around you. somehow, after everything, it was perfect. more perfect that anything you could have asked for, and, as bittersweet as it was to admit it, better than anything lando could have planned.
you threw your head back, staring up at the sky. lando leant forward, kissing over your exposed neck, and you hummed in delight. his lips worked their way up until they were ghosting over the shell of your ear.
“i love you. i will always love you.” lando whispered, and you melted into his hands that had a firm grip on your waist.
you shared a look, every worry dissipated, and you saw your life together, right there in his eyes. a flower littered aisle, him in a sleek black suit, his eyes meeting yours from the other side of the room. and then he was kissing you again and you felt the cool, damp metal of his car against your skin. your mind was full of houses in the country, white bedsheets, children playing in a garden. dinners by a fireplace and maybe a dog. but everything you saw slipped away until the only thing that remained was lando, right here, right now.
he was all over you, wet curls trickling cold water over you, sending a shiver down your spine. you grabbed at his shoulders, pulling at his soaked shirt, the white material translucent from the weather. it clung to him deliciously as you ran your hands over the linen.
“get in the car.” he groaned, sliding the material of your skirt up your legs. you complied instantly, turning to climb into your seat, when he stopped you. “no, honey. on my lap.” he smiled mischievously as he slid into the passenger seat and you quickly followed clambering onto his lap.
lando pulled your left hand up, so that it was resting over his heart. you finally had a chance to properly take in the ring, breathtaking as it was. it was an emerald cut diamond, simple yet elegant, exactly what you’d always envisioned.
“you see that? every time you look at this ring i want you to remember that i will always be yours. okay?” his voice had dropped, making the moment you were in even more intimate.
“okay.” you whispered, and his hand trailed lower, slipping under the hem of your ridden up dress. the other went to your neck, fingers gripping softly at the base of your throat.
“you thought i didn’t want you?” his grip tightened, your eyes wide in awe, fixed on his, murky blue green waters turned dark. “silly girl.” and then his other hand found your underwear, tugging it to the side.
lando moaned when he felt how wet you were, dripping all over his fingers, nice and ready for him. he worked through your folds, applying a firm, slow pressure to your clit. your mouth hung open, eyes fluttering shut from the pleasure, but the way his hand closed around your neck had you staring back at him again.
“i need you.” you whimpered, your own smaller hands gripping at his wrist, pushing him further into your delicate neck, rolling your hips against where his hand worked against your soft flesh.
“don’t doubt me anymore, do you? not when i’m the only one who can make you feel like this?” lando teased, and your stomach tightened, clamping down on the two fingers he’d slipped inside you.
“no,” you whined. “only you, lando.” and that was enough convincing for him.
he held you up, just enough to free himself from his jeans and boxers, and you gripped his shoulders, clawing at him as you sunk down on his length. the rain fell harder, condensation gathering on the windows as you ground down on him, meeting his thrusts. tears pricked your eyes; he felt so good, fit you like a missing puzzle piece, and you’d doubted him. you knew, in that moment, that you’d never do such a thing again.
moans were shared between you in unison, your foreheads pressed together as you both got closer and closer, the tight space intensifying the desperation to meet your end. his hands were firm on your hips, his body tight underneath your hands. you couldn’t keep the pace, thighs aching where you were straddling him, and he quickly took charge. your head fell to his shoulder, panting into his ear as he gave you everything, putting everything he had into the final few thrusts.
you laid against his chest in silence after, the sunset casting pinks and purples over the car. you grinned lazily, exhausted, your heart fuller than ever before.
“i’m sorry i doubted you.” you mumbled into his neck, nosing at his stubbled jaw.
“i’m sorry i made you doubt me.” he responded, stroking your hair, squeezing you tighter for a second.
“i can’t wait to marry you, lando.” you kissed his jaw, sitting up to smile at him. your hands looped around his neck, twisting his curls around your fingers.
“my wife.” lando chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “let’s get you home, hm?”
“please.” you crooned. “i’m sure you need to tell max that you finally asked me, huh?”
“you know me too well.”
-
taglist
removed tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed
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2K notes · View notes
miinatozakiii · 2 months
Text
tutor perks
park jihyo x fem!reader ; fluff, smut
synopsis: the kid you’re tutoring has a really sweet, charming hot aunt.
warnings: alcohol ; not proofread so many spelling and grammatical errors (probably) ; mmm smut ; smut; and smut ; praise ; overstimulation ; almost fucking in the fancy bathroom ; reader ruined by jihyo ; men mentioned yuck!! ; food ; jihyo is like seven years older than reader ; mmm anything else i’ve missed ; physics mentioned 😵‍💫
a/n: i need her so bad like
(um ALSO i wrote half of this on my phone (that era was...))
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you’re assigned to tutor a high school student, some junior boy named matthew park that’s falling behind in a couple of subjects. the lady at the front office had provided you directions to the library, but still, it took you a few wrong turns and another ask to actually get there. 
walking in, you notice the lively yet quiet ambiance filling the room. there are groups of students studying together, giggling and pushing each other around as they do so. another group seems to be much more focused than the others, all furrowing their brows while examining whatever paper is on the table. 
you scan the room and look for a guy who should be alone, and to the right, you spot just that. 
he’s hunched over a little and his eyes are glued to the phone in his right hand while he spins a pencil with the other hand. the guy has on a green crewneck sweater and the headphones he wears squish some of his dark hair, which is parted messily in the middle. you tap on his desk subtly—he looks up with raised brows and takes off his headphones. 
you shoot a friendly smile and begin to speak, “hi, are you—“ 
“matthew, yeah.” he interrupts, “matt is fine.” 
his voice is pretty low, and something about his energy and mannerisms tell you that he’s some type of athlete. he runs a hand through his hair as you sit down next to him and fixes his posture. at least he has some manners, unlike the type of athletes you had to deal with a few years ago. 
“i’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you.” you greet, sticking out your hand—which matt takes—and shaking his bigger, rougher one.  
you clear your throat and look at the slightly creased notes on the table accompanied by the spiral notebook and green folder. setting down your own bag on the floor, you ask, “so, what is it that you’re struggling with the most?” 
matt glances at the entrance for a brief moment then looks down at the work in front of him and clenches his jaw, crossing his arms.  
“physics and precalculus.” he simply says, his voice seeming small and ashamed. you glance over towards where he was before, catching a group of five teenagers—all seemingly athletic from the apparel they wear—and start to catch onto his sudden bashful demeanor. 
“alright, i can help you with that.” you assure, “i’ll try to make this quick and do the best i can to help, just let me know what you want me to explain.” 
matt nods, picking up the pencil and huffing. 
after tutoring math and reliving your high school physics trauma, you’re headed out the entrance of the library and trying to find your way to the main doors.  
“wait!” a voice calls out, “y/n, was it?”  
turning around, you stand a few feet away from matt, whose headphones are resting around his neck comfortably. he rubs his neck and then pinches the bridge of his nose before shutting his eyes tightly. 
you tilt your head, wondering what this boy needs; was it some extra notes or help? 
“yes?” 
“i um,” he begins, tensing his jaw and shaking his head. “i don’t know if this is appropriate to ask you since you’re a tutor—and i swear i’m not hitting on you!” he catches himself, groaning after he speaks. “i just, don’t want to be seen getting tutored, it’s embarrassing because i’m… i’m not doing well academically right now.” 
“matt, it’s okay, don’t feel—” 
“stop,” he says bluntly. “look, you were probably in my place a couple of years ago or something, i don’t know. just, i don’t like being seen like this because i used to be better, but my professors and everything…” 
“i get that, we can work it out! i was actually really good at physics and i know how bad it can be, i was there and precalculus is pretty simple to me.” 
“yes and thank you, i just wanted to ask if we could change locations. somewhere that’s not where i go to school.” 
“where were you thinking matt?” you ask, quirking a brow and ignoring the little buzz from your phone that’s in your pocket. 
he sighs and repeats, “before i ask; i’m not hitting on you, i swear to god.”  
“matt if you’re insisting some type of café i’m fine with that, people study there all the-“ 
“no, i’d be recognized there too.” he mumbles. “can you just come over to my house? i’ll even have my aunt texting you to say it’s okay, i don’t know if you need that confirmation or whatever, i mean, i’m a minor and i get that it might be iffy.” 
“oh, i see.” you mutter in response. “i mean, we can do that, just have your aunt text me, yeah?” 
“okay.” he responds, “can we do this thursday? i have a physics test on friday.” 
“that’s fine, i’ll do my best to help you out matt.” 
he smiles gratefully. “thank you y/n.”  
-- 
once you’re out of your car after parking near the curb across the street, you get a real good view of matt’s house and damn, the place is nice. 
it’s pretty big and modern, but not too modern that it’s uncomfortable, it just stands out. 
you walk down the little pathway towards the door, which is illuminated by dimmed, warm lights, and tilt your neck to the side to crack it before knocking. a few moments later, you hear the locks click as they turn and the door opens, matt opens it and he’s wearing some white t-shirt, which is paired with black sweatpants. 
“thank you for coming, and again, i swear i’m not hitting on you.” 
“matt, it would be very illegal for me to do anything like that with you. i get it, seriously.” 
“just making sure.” he says, “come in, my aunt is coming home soon.” 
his aunt had sent you a text asking if you were his tutor, and she had thanked you for offering such assistance to her nephew. the lady—his aunt—seemed sweet. her tone via text and the amusing emojis she used had given you this image of some woman in her 40s or 50s, probably baking cookies and thanking you with a warm hug for helping her dear relative. you’ll meet her later; hopefully, she does end up giving you cookies. 
matt leads you to the dining area and as you make your way there, the aroma of vanilla fills the air. maybe it was the cookies that were waiting for you, or you’re just really hungry and craving something sweet. 
“i have the things i need to study, he gave us this study guide and i have some questions regarding the velocity equations.” he explains, but stops himself in his tracks and mutters an “ah,” before asking, “did you want anything to drink?” 
“no, no.” you dismiss him with a wave of your hand. “let’s get started, shall we?” 
the rhythmic ticking of the clock echoed through the room as you continued to guide matt through the complexities of his physics homework. frustrated groans and muttered curses painted a vivid picture of the challenges he was enduring—in this case, one of the most dreadful subjects ever—and you found yourself helping him whenever you could. 
as the sounds of the front door unlocking reached your ears, both you and matt instinctively turned towards the entrance. matt, eager to get a small break from the terrible page of paper in front of him, leapt up to open the door just as it swung ajar. 
"hey, auntie," he greeted, the familial connection evident in his tone. 
“hi matt, there are some groceries i need you to take in, would you mind helping me out?” 
“no not at all,” he says, then excuses himself to go help out with the groceries. 
the figure that emerged into the room drew your attention like a magnetic force. matt's aunt strode in with an air of authority that commanded immediate respect. your jaw tensed as you observed her approach, an almost instinctive reaction to the oddly powerful aura exuded from her. how crazy it was for a woman who’s just appeared to have you sit up in your seat. 
she was not what you expected—a far cry from the stereotypical image you had of aunts in their 40s or 50s, definitely not as old as you had assumed. instead, she carried an ageless poise, appearing young but undeniably mature. dressed in a black blazer that teased the line between formal and casual, ending provocatively above her knees, she was a vision that held your gaze captive. 
however, it wasn't just the flawless outfit that ensnared your attention. it was the remarkable contours of her face, the sharpness of her cheekbones that had your jaw dropping just barely as you were in your trance. her steps echoed with a strange power, and even in her approach, you couldn't help but feel a sense of intimidation just by existing within her proximity. 
as matt’s aunt neared, her gaze locked onto yours—a gaze that felt both deathly and tremendously allurin — then, she smiled, a shift in demeanor that caught you off guard. the stern, professional aura melted away, replaced by a wonderfully cute smile that seemed to rival her intimidating presence. 
you—caught in a momentary trance—couldn't help but reciprocate with a dorky smile, your hand instinctively moving to fix your hair, as if trying to match the sudden change in atmosphere. what a mess you were for someone’s aunt you’ve just laid your eyes on.  
"ah, you're y/n, matt's tutor, am i correct?" she inquired, her voice sent a ripple of warmth through the room. the cadence of her words held a subtle allure, a tone that rang with confidence and undeniable charm. her voice was a little on the deeper end, but regardless it was hot and you could for sure get used to it. 
you managed to nod, finding your voice despite the sudden whirlwind of emotions. "yes, that's me. nice to meet you, miss park." 
“no need to be so formal hon.” she chuckles, pleased. “you can call me jihyo.” she assures with a smile. jihyo stretches out her hand and you take it, her hands are soft and smaller than yours, and her nails well manicured. “you have nice hands y/n.”  
that is such a crazy statement coming from someone’s beautiful, striking aunt who you’ve met for the first time ever and just now. your cheeks flush and you laugh shyly before responding, “thank you, your hands are um, they’re nice too.” 
after realizing that you’ve been holding this woman’s hand for too long, you pull away and run a hand through your hair again. jihyo smiles at you before walking over to the desk and examining the paper, she sighs and raises her brows. 
“ah, physics, i was never good at that when i was in high school.” 
“yes it’s something a lot of people struggled with in high school, i was lucky to be able to do well in that class.” you shrug, and jihyo looks at you impressed. 
“i see, you must be smart huh? and how old are you sweetheart?” 
your knees almost give up on you after this crazy hot woman just called you sweetheart, yet you manage to respond to her without stuttering or sounding like a fool. “i’m 20.” 
“ah, pretty young huh. you’re in college?” 
“yeah. education major, actually.” 
“how cute.” she responds amusingly, “well, thank you again for teaching my nephew. i’ll be upstairs, just send a text or shout if he’s a hassle. thanks hon.” 
jihyo shoots you a grateful smile before patting you on the shoulder; you might just die right then and there. you gulp lightly and manage to choke out a response, “y-yeah, no problem.” which makes the older woman giggle softly before leaving. 
you have got to get a grip. 
-- 
the woman you’ve interacted with for no more than three minutes surely left a mark with her first impression. now you’re putting more effort into your appearance than you did for that date you had three weeks ago with the girl sarah set you up with. 
you slip into a white graphic baby tee that effortlessly molds around your figure, the perfect balance of snug and comfortable. the tee you were gifted is paired with your beloved thrifted boyfriend jeans, their wash perfectly complements your top and if you were to stretch just a little bit, jihyo would get a glimpse of the line that runs down your tummy. a hint of effortlessness fills the air as you tie up the upper half of your hair, allowing loose strands to gently caress your shoulders and frame your face. light and natural makeup enhances your best features, purposefully done to emphasize your appeal with a touch of ease.  
when you reach the front door of matt’s house, you brush a strand of hair out and pat down the black cardigan you have on before knocking on it three times. the familiar teenage boy opens it up and greets you with a smile, inviting you in.  
everything goes as usual: you situate yourself in a different room this time and matt hands you his assignments. you take your time to give them a good look, and then ask him what he needs help with. this time he needs help with precalculus, and thankfully, you’re pretty good at that too. 
you watch him work on the assignments for a bit and start to get thirsty, and then you realize you’ve forgotten your water bottle on the counter in your small apartment.  
“ah i forgot my bottle… could i get some water?” you ask him, and he nods without looking away from the paper. 
“yeah, the kitchen is down the hall to the right. there’s bottles in the fridge. could you grab me a coke zero?” 
“yeah, thanks, i’ll be quick. just work on these for the time being.” he hums in response to you and continues to write down various messy scribbles while solving some type of math problem he’s been assigned. 
you do as he says: walk down the hall and to the right to enter the familiar kitchen you were near last time and you’re met with the familiar older woman that had you all flustered before. she’s standing by the stove and cooking something up and it smells great. awkwardly, you walk over to the fridge and she turns after catching you in her peripheral. 
she smiles immediately upon meeting your presence. 
“y/n! hi honey, it’s nice to see you.” jihyo greets, “i’ve been wanting to see you again.” 
“you have?” your cheeks flush immediately, and you manage to recompose yourself, clearing your throat before responding,, “it’s nice to see you too..” 
jihyo looks you up and down, eyes pausing for two seconds on the baby tee hugging your figure before meeting your eyes again. her look does things that she wants her hands doing, but that’s for her to know. 
“did you need anything sweetheart?” she asks, raising a brow. her question doesn’t process through your head until a few moments after. you were too busy admiring her from head to toe, taking in her features, the casual outfit she has on—eyes enjoying the view of her cleavage that slightly shows in that black tank top she wears.  
you clear your throat again. 
“oh i was just getting some drinks for matt and i.” you respond, quickly darting your eyes away from her chest.  
the older woman giggles amusingly, “take whatever you’d like from there.” 
“thank you miss— i mean, jihyo. it’s fine really, just thirsty and matt wants a coke zero, haha.” 
“alright~” she says, dragging her response teasingly. “just let me know, ‘kay?”  
“yeah, thanks.” you smile sheepishly and nod, then grab the drinks you almost forgot about before walking away.  
jihyo looks you up and down as you step into the hall, smirking a bit before going back to cook the dinner she’d been preparing.  
when you get back to the room where you had been tutoring, you spot matt, who is still writing down some equation down on his paper. he looks up once he hears you, then smiles after seeing the coca-cola in your hand. 
“here’s your drink.” you smile. 
“thanks.” 
“it’s no problem, your aunt told me to grab as much as i’d like. is she always so… sweet?” 
“i mean, i guess so. she’s pretty laid back with my friends as long as we don’t do too much.” matt opens the can and shakes his head as a small laugh slips out. “she’s definitely more generous with you, i can tell. she asked me about you actually.” 
“she what?” your eyes widen and your head turns. “what did she ask?” 
“nothing too important, just when you’d be over again.” matt shrugs, then his adam’s apple moves up and down whilst his neck muscles tense and relax as he gulps down the carbonated drink. “damn this is fizzy—” he says, then coughs. “fuck.” 
matt leaves you with an awareness of jihyo’s curiousity towards your own self, and now you’re trying to focus on tutoring the kid whilst thinking of his aunt.  
“good job matt, i can see you’re already getting much better. the concepts and formulas seem to be clicking, yeah?” you praise, he nods. matt stretches his arms out and you roll your shoulders back to release some tension. 
after helping him tidy up, you make sure everything is back in your own tote bag that you had brought. matt turns towards the entrance to the room and his eyebrows raise a bit, then you turn and see the same woman. your jaw tenses—lips part slightly too. 
jihyo walks in and the sway of her hips isn’t unnoticeable. she looks at the two of you, eyes lingering on you longer than her own nephew, then beams. “matt, help me set up dinner will you?” 
“mhm, gotchu. what’s for dinner by the way?” 
“steak and pasta, go mix up the pasta would you?” 
“yes aunt hyo.” matt complies, then shoots you a grateful grin before standing up with an exaggerated, tired sigh. he walks past jihyo, leaving the two of you alone. 
your heart beats embarrassingly fast once matt is gone, it thumps so hard in your chest that you’re afraid that jihyo may hear.  
“done for the day?” jihyo questions, walking over to you. 
you gulp. “yeah, just finished actually.” 
“i see, you must be hungry.” then jihyo locks eyes with you, and you genuinely think it might be something more—or maybe you’re delusional—who knows. “stay for dinner.” 
okay maybe it’s something more, or you’re just a desperate, lovesick gay college student that’s borderline head over heels. 
“oh it’s fine, really.” you say it with uncertainty, waving your hands in the air with an awkward smile. “i don’t want to trouble you.” 
“it’d be anything but a trouble y/n.” jihyo counters, “if anything the trouble would be letting a pretty lady like you out my house with an empty stomach.” 
jihyo places her hand on your shoulder, then squeezes it lightly. her eyes have you paralyzed in place, drilling into your pupils and then finding their attention on your lips. jihyo is slightly shorter than you, yet you feel so helpless under than her. an amused smirk plays on her lips and you find yourself clutching your tote bag strap a little tighter. 
“…then i’ll take your offer, thank you.” you nod awkwardly, feeling your cheeks flush. 
jihyo nods, feeling accomplished, then pulls her hand off your shoulder. “i’ll have matt know there’s going to be an extra plate then. come on sweetheart.” 
-- 
now you’re sat at the dining table with jihyo across. she’s grinning and her eyes keep wandering all over you, but most of the time they’re focused on your face. 
matt hands you a plate with steak and alfredo pasta, then some utensils. he places a cup of water down on a coaster and pushes it towards you, then hands his aunt a glass of white wine.  
matt takes a bite of the meal and sighs, pleased with how it satisfies his hunger. jihyo laughs at him whilst he goes on to devour the plate. you follow after him and twirl some of the noodle against your spoon, then stab a piece of steak with your fork. the bite you take is filled with some saltiness, though it’s deliciously savory—just how you like it. 
jihyo smiles. “good?” 
“it’s great, thank you again jihyo.”  
“anytime, i fancy your company.” she responds before taking a bite herself. 
there’s a question brewing in your mind, but you’re second-guessing yourself because it seems a bit rude, well, maybe. jihyo swallows the steak and reaches for her glass again. 
“so it’s just you and matt?” you ask, avoiding eye contact. 
matt turns and raises a brow, then shrugs it off. jihyo simply nods her head. 
“just me and the troublemaker.” she jokes, which earns an eye roll from matt. “he moved here a few years ago, the school over here is excellent for him. great academics, extracurriculars, sports teams…” 
“i see. good for him then.”  
“what about you?” jihyo questions. you look up at her in the middle of chewing down your pasta, rushing to get a response out. 
“sorry, what?” 
“just you? no boyfriend or… significant other?”  
surprisingly, you don’t choke on your food. “oh no, not at the moment.” 
“that’s a shame, and a surprise.” she takes another bite of steak and chews on it in the right side of her cheek, puffing it out a little. “i wonder why no one has made a move, i would’ve if there were a beauty like you around.” 
matt pauses, his brows furrow and he looks at his aunt with some slight concern. “auntie?” 
“i’m only teasing silly, just complimenting,” jihyo says, laughing to ease the tension in the air (though, it doesn’t work. your heart starts racing again and the meal gets harder to finish). “it’s better than whatever you’ve said over the phone to those—”  
matt coughs, then shakes his head. “okay okay, we get it.” he rolls his eyes (again) and shrinks into his seat, making jihyo giggle. you laugh as well and matt scoffs as he pokes at the steak on his plate. 
there’s a sudden buzz that makes the table vibrate slightly. your phone sits next to your glass of water, and you reach for it hastily. due to your clumsy handling, the water topples over, spilling all over shirt—your chest. 
“shit—” you curse and stand up quickly.  
“matt, grab some napkins for y/n.” jihyo orders, quickly walking over to your side of the table. she grabs the napkins from her nephew and hands them to you, then urges you to follow her. she turns to matt and quickly says, “clean up the table, i’ll go help y/n out with her clothes.” 
matt hums in response and you follow jihyo, feeling embarassed from the small scene you’ve made. 
-- 
“i’m really sorry, and really, i could’ve cleaned up on my own—”  
“it’s fine y/n, don’t worry about it.” jihyo assures, leading you to the large master bedroom.  
there’s a king-sized bed in the middle, dimmed lights, and the room screams luxury. jihyo leads you over to the closet and grabs a small towel, then starts to pat down at your chest, making your cheeks burn.  
her hands find their way over to your shoulder to stabilize you, and then she’s shaking her head after trying to dry the spillage on your shirt. “this won’t do, let me get you a shirt. you can take off yours and leave it on the hanger over there.” she says, pointing to the hook. 
“t-thank you.” mentally, you facepalm yourself for sounding so nervous. 
“your cheeks are red,” jihyo giggles. she places her hand on your shoulder, then drags it down to your chest briefly before pulling away. “it’s alright honey, it happens. i’ll get you that shirt.” 
a few minutes later she enters the abnormally large closet again and hands you a gray sweatshirt with some college logo on it.  
“thank you jihyo, i’ll give this back to you when i—” 
“it’s fine, just keep it for pajamas or anything like that. it’s just some old shirt from when i graduated a while ago.” jihyo says. you pray that you look calm and collected, trying to mask your flustered-self with a smile. “i’ll let you change, just come out when you’re done sugar.” 
“yeah, thanks—and sorry.”  
jihyo shakes her head and waves off your apology with her hand. 
-- 
you’re back downstairs in a few minutes—minutes of jihyo (not so) subtly checking you out in her old clothes. 
matt asks if you’re okay, you answer with a nod and a smile. 
“my roommate keeps calling me, i should get going.” is muttered followed by an unnecessary peek into your tote bag, shuffling through to make sure you have everything. “thank you again for everything.” 
jihyo leads you to the door and sends matt up to get ready for school. she flattens out her own clothes, runs a hand through her hair, then watches you slip on your shoes from the front door. 
“you should stay for dinner more often y/n, i enjoyed it.” 
you chuckle awkwardly, then push a strand of hair back. “i enjoyed it too, though i’m sorry for spilling water everywhere.” 
“that’s quite alright, you could always make up for it by staying over. i like your company.”  
looking down at the ground, you smile bashfully and respond, “i’ll consider it. thank you again.”  
“drive safe pretty.” jihyo says, waving goodbye and shutting the door. 
sarah sits on the opposite end of the couch and watches you closely.  
youre hugging your knees to your chest and smiling, making your roommate turn her head in confusion. “why’d you drag me to the couch.” 
“i need to tell you about today. about everything.” 
“make it quick, i have a lecture tomorrow morning for psych.” she sighs, crossing her arms and leaning against the couch. 
“so i’ve been tutoring that kid you know, the high school kid.” you start, and sarah nods as she hums. “yeah so basically i tutor him that one day at his school or whatever, then, he asks me to tutor him at his house.” 
“so he… wants you?” 
“no, absolutely not. plus, that’s like, a case.” you say with a shake of your hand, dismissing hee assumption. “but, speaking of age differences, i went to his house — his aunts house — and i was tutoring him and whatnot. then i hear someone knock on the door and he says it’s his aunt, so im unfazed or whatever because it’s probably this middle aged lady or whatever.” 
“right, so…?” 
“so i was fucking wrong.” you explain, sitting up now. “the most beautiful woman i’ve ever laid eyes on walks in. she’s dressed in work clothes or something, all black, and she looks good.”  
“oh, so you’re gay.” sarah scoffs amusingly, quirking a brow. “am i supposed to be… surprised?” 
“can you just shut the fuck up and listen to me fully for once, please.” 
sarah rolls her eyes. “fine.” 
“okay so she calls me hon, then she says my hands are sweet — and keep in mind, this is the first time i’ve talked to her in person. then she calls me sweetheart?” 
“she’s being nice i think, considering she’s probably older than you. maybe you’re just gay, delusional, and haven’t gotten laid since… months ago?” 
“just because you and your girlfriend do it every time i’m out does not mean you have to shove it down my throat.” you scoff, “anyways, yeah no i thought that too, but then her nephew — the kid in tutoring — he tells me that she’s more generous with me and asks about me. i don’t think that’s being nice.” 
“that might just be curiosity and being nice, y/n.” 
“no hear me out okay,” sarah giggles as she watches you talk all animatedly with your hands moving after every couple of words. “she invited me for dinner — literally wanted me to stay, like insisted — then said i was too pretty to not be taken? and then she was saying that if ‘there were a beauty like you around, i would’ve made a move.’” 
sarah’s eyes widen, then her mouth opens slightly in shock. she leans closer to you, now fully invested knowing that this isn’t just another stretch of your interactions with women.  
“holy shit?” 
“i know.” you say, feeling your cheeks flush just from thinking about it. “and then you called and i spilled water and whatnot, she brought me to her room and—“ 
“you guys fucked?” 
“no!” you immediately say, a little too loud for that matter. “no, no.” you reassure, “though, i’m going to be honest i kind of wish—but that’s besides the point. she helped me out and patted down my tits — well my shirt but who cares, same thing — and then gave me her old sweatshirt. im literally wearing it right now and i remember her checking me out as soon as i changed into them.” 
“oh my god?” 
“yeah, and then you called again for me to come back or whatever and she told me to stay for dinner more often. now i’m here and that’s the end of the story.” 
sarah simply stares at you with wide eyes, her hand covering her slightly opened mouth. you place your hands on your face snd grown, feeling the heat of your cheeks on the skin of your hand. 
“i cant believe someone’s aunt wants you.” 
“i know!”  
“are you going to… sleep with her?” sarah asks, tilting her head. 
you find yourself lost in thought, often drifting into a world where she consumes your every waking moment - both at work and during classes. in these vivid daydreams, your thoughts sometimes stray to a more innocent realm. you envision the possibility of going on a simple date with her, where you can unravel the layers of her personality and just get to know her on a deeper level. because jihyo’s the type of woman that you want to sit down and get to know, that’s for sure.  
but to be honest, most of the time your mind wanders to far more… provocative scenarios. your imagination conjures up images of her completely unveiled, with a tantalizing desire to feel her hands caressing your every contour, leaving you to completely submit to her; to be ruined by jihyo personally. these fantasies consume you, their allure impossible to resist.  
“well, i don’t know.” you answer, pinching the bridge of her nose. “i still have to tutor her nephew.” 
“hmm… then focus on that and then sleeping with his aunt.” sarah suggests, giggling lightly before her phone buzzes. she looks at the screen and sees a text from her girlfriend, then smiles immediately. “speaking of sleeping with people, my girlfriend is picking me up. i’ll be out for the night.” 
you groan, still wanting sarah to listen to you while losing your mind and leave her own comments here and there. it’s almost impossible to get her away from her girlfriend. you’re so jealous and sarah loves to poke at you for being single and insatiable. 
“you’re unbelievable.” 
sarah shrugs, getting up with a cheeky grin. she snickers, “and you need to get laid. good luck with your little milf situation.” 
“she’s not his mom!” 
“same difference.” 
— 
the next time you tutor matt, you never get to talk or see jihyo. matt explains that she’s out for the night, something related to a business trip that he seems to not really care about. 
but you care, and you need to know when she’s back. unfortunately, tutoring comes first and the last thing you want to do is make it obvious that you have a crush on the aunt of the kid you’re tutoring. 
(matt has a little hunch; he notices the stares the both of you give each other when you two think no one is looking. matt is looking and definitely suspicious of how nervous you get around her and how generous his aunt is to you. though, he doesn’t have time to dive deeper in that since another physics test is clouding his brain for the time being.) 
you run into jihyo the day after that session with matt, but not as his house.  
there’s a place near the campus that’s now you and your friends’ signature study and hangout spot. it’s this cozy café and restaurant that the five of you have spent countless hours at either conversing and laughing for hours or losing your mind over whatever classes you guys take. this time, you’re all getting brunch together and debating something small. 
you excuse yourself and get in line to grab a drink since you only purchased a panini, thinking that would satisfy you. you were wrong. so, you stand in line for a bit, not really minding your surroundings while you tap through various instagram stories and scroll mindlessly. a minute later, you feel a tap on your shoulder while you’re halfway through a video your friend had posted. when you turn around you’re met with the face that has you lost in a momentary trance.  
“ah y/n, it’s nice to see you.” jihyo says. 
“oh, jihyo.” you respond, trying to hide your surprise and sudden nervousness. “it’s nice to see you too.” 
oh for sure it’s nice to see her. sunglasses sit on the top of her head, loose strands fall over her face, and the dress she’s wearing under her long coat looks divine. your eyes scan her whole body for a short moment, and then you’re clearing your throat as she starts to speak again. 
“are you here alone?” she asks you, looking you up in down in the process. 
“oh i’m with friends actually, they’re over by the window—“ you point to the group of four laughing together, all invested in the conversation at hand as the afternoon light brightens their smiles. “—we were just getting together and eating brunch.” you explain. 
“i see…” jihyo mumbles, looking over to your friends. she sounds a bit dissapointed, but you could be wrong about that.  
“what are you doing here? i mean, i don’t mean that in a rude way it’s just—“ 
jihyo smiles again, putting her hand on your shoulder as she laughs. “oh honey,” one of many things she calls you that makes your breath go short, “it’s fine, i get what you mean.” she trails down to your bicep, her skin warm on yours. “i was going to grab a drink before work, this is one of my favorite cafes.” 
“what a coincidence, it’s one of mine too.” 
jihyo subtly acknowledges your presence, her gaze gracefully trailing along your figure, delicately fixating on the tantalizing hint of skin peeking through your attire. her probing eyes pause there momentarily, capturing every nuance of the tempting groove down your tummy, accentuated by your low-rise jeans and revealing crop top. the ensemble effortlessly enhances your allure, inducing an irresistible appeal that’s impossible to ignore. as her gaze eventually retreats, it effortlessly returns to meet your own.  
“i suppose we have lots in common.” jihyo notes. 
“yeah,” you breath out, “i guess so.” 
“next in line please!” one of the the cashiers yells out, snapping you out of your daze. you apologize to him and then smile at jihyo before walking over and shuffling for the wallet in your shoulder bag.  
after getting your pistachio latte, you walk back to your friends and they beam at you. setting your bag down, you listen in on the conversation. 
“—and so, as i was saying, he kept making me pay for everything on the first date.” mai scoffs, crossing her arms. she’s a friend from your intro to education, lively and always has something to say. this time, it seems to be quite interesting. “look, i am a 50-50 girl and whatnot, but he asked me out and expects me to pay? i felt like there was a whole beard on my face and my balls dropped or something after paying for him. yeah, never again.” 
you laugh loudly, covering your mouth upon hearing the entertaining story.  
again – similar to just a few minutes ago – there’s a tap on your shoulder. your friends look at the woman behind you before you can, and once you set your look on her; your heart starts to beat again, a blush settling on your cheeks. 
“hey pretty, i was about to leave for work.” jihyo says with a smile, “can we talk for a bit? alone.”  
to your left, another one of your friends raises his eyebrows subtly. just with that small gesture alone, he manages ask without speaking: who’s this woman and why is she calling you pretty? though, you can’t answer him just yet. there’s no way you’d embarrass yourself in front of jihyo. 
you clear your throat and stutter just barely in your response. “hey, hi. um, yeah, sure. excuse me guys, i um, need to talk with her.”  
after sending an apologetic smile and earning various cheeky smiles, you nod at jihyo and find a spot near the window to talk to her. alone. she brushes a strand of hair out of your face and leans back to sit upright in her seat; you try to stay calm 
“i just wanted to ask for a favor, i completely forgot about it until i got a notification from my calendar.” 
“oh, what is it?”  
she looks out the window and sips on her iced drink, then turns back to meet your eyes. “well, i have a work dinner thing, a lot of… men will be there for the most part. i was wondering if you’d accompany me? i’m afraid i’d grow tired of their dull efforts to impress me, but it’s completely fine if you can’t make it.” jihyo says, although her tone near the end suggests that she’d be pretty disappointed with an answer other than yes. “i know it’s a big ask, but i’ve grown quite fond of you. is that ridiculous?” 
quickly, you dismiss her by waving your hands a bit frantically and shaking your head. you assure her, “it’s not ridiculous at all!” unintentionally, the volume of your voice spikes. “i’m actually um, really flattered that you feel that way, seriously. it also wouldn’t be any trouble – the dinner thing – id, um, i would love to accompany you.” 
jihyo finds herself blushing, surprisingly. she sips on the drink before setting it down on the marble counter side, then places her elbows on the table and her eyes smile, then her nose scrunches a bit.  
“right, that’s wonderful.” she says, “come over to my place tomorrow at 5:30 then?” you gulp upon hearing her words – practically an order with that tone and raise of her brow – then nod. she smiles and places her hand on your shoulder again, this time terribly close to the crook of your neck, her thumb brushing against your throat. “good, see you then.” 
“yeah,” you respond, not wanting to leave yet; your friends are waiting for you and jihyo has to go to work, so you begin to stand. “i’ll see you… my friends um, they’re—” 
“oh, yes, sorry for dragging you away—” 
“no!” you shake your hands again, cringing at how loud your voice grew (again). “they’re fine with it and i don’t want you to be late for work. we weren’t doing anything important anyway, just catching up.” 
she giggles and stands up to face you, eyes angled up slightly since she’s an inch or two shorter. she takes her hand off her skin and it feels specifically frigid in that area now that the warmth radiating off her fingers isn’t there, you almost shiver. 
“right, thanks hon. i’ll see you tomorrow yeah? shoot me a text when you get there, you have my number.” 
you nod and she hands her work bag on her shoulder, then starts to walk away – but not before winking at you. you smile, feeling your heart do a flip. 
when you return to your table, your friends are already eyeing you mischievously. mai has her straw sitting on her teeth, giving you that look. your jaw tightens and you smile at them before awkwardly sitting back in the previously empty seat, mentally preparing yourself in those two silent seconds before they all start bombarding you with questions and relentless teasing. 
you arrived at jihyo’s house ten minutes early, a little earlier than you’d expected since the traffic wasn’t as bad. you walk down the small path leading to the steps, then up those three steps and onto the doormat. before you can even knock, the door opens and matt nearly bumps into you. 
he apologizes immediately, then looks at you with scrunched brows. 
“were we supposed to tutor today?” he asks, scratching his head with a finger. “if we were, sorry but i’ve got plans.” he says, nudging his head forward, making you turn around to see a honda civic parked on the street across. the windows are rolled down, revealing another guy that looks around his age in the drivers seat, another in the passengers side that you can barely see, and two girls in the back.  
“oh, no. jihyo called me over actually, not for you.” 
matt raises his brows, then his body relaxes. “oh.” 
“yeah, didn’t mean to scare you.” 
“no it’s… fine.” he assures, looking at you skeptically. “have fun with… my aunt? um, whatever you two are… doing. i’m staying at a friends house tonight so…” 
“yeah, have fun.” you respond awkwardly, looking up at him as he observes you for a few seconds longer. the makeup on your face is slightly heavier than usual – not that it’s a bad thing, in fact he wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for the nice dress you were wearing. quite odd, he figures, but it’s not his business. he shrugs his shoulders and forgets about it, waving at you before he leaves, running over to the black honda civic that’s playing music at a volume so loud that you can hear it from the door. 
you forget about the whole encounter for a moment, instead redirecting your attention to the opened door in front of you. stepping inside, you get a whiff of the familiar lavender scent that fills the house, then close the door behind you. the house is silent until you send jihyo a text, and she responds a few seconds later by yelling from upstairs. 
“y/n! come upstairs darling!”  
you freeze in place, suddenly feeling intimidated for no reason. nonetheless, you walk on over to the stairs, then up to jihyo’s room. 
as you enter the room, her image captivates your attention in the mirror. the black dress she has on a pulls you towards her, reciprocating the intense attraction you both feel. the attraction that’s most definitely there, but jihyo’s a tease and you’re cautious. she likes that she has you wrapped around her finger. it’s amusing how easily flustered you get around her. 
the sight of her is nothing short of exquisite, and your gaze fixates on the enticing curve of her hips, igniting a subtle pulse in between your legs hunger that has you subconsciously nibbling on your lip. glancing further upwards, you indulge in the sight of her exposed shoulders, showcased gracefully in the mirror's reflection. they exude a provoking attraction, tempting you to succumb to your countless daydreams. you want to explore the softness of her skin, want to leave indelible marks on her delicate collarbones. 
in the midst of your blatant stare, her eyes lock with yours through the mirror, catching you in the act of unabashedly admiring her. she laughs, then she turns around to face you, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. 
“like what you see?” she teases you, making your cheeks burn.  
you clear your throat and pretend to busy yourself by looking into your bag, but manage to respond politely, “i um—sorry. matt let me in, he just left.” 
she starts to step towards you, and you feel yourself gulp unintentionally.  
“mhm, he told me about the sleepover.” she says, then stands inches away from you. using her pointer and thumb, she tilts your chin up and away from the bag hung on your shoulder, intensely gazing at you for a moment before speaking again. “you look remarkable.” 
your breath hitches as you look at her, eyes drilling into yours while you try to stay calm. “t-thank you.” 
she eyes you for a while longer before nodding, then smiles at you like she didn’t just eye fuck you. 
“let’s get going, there’s good parking if we arrive early. less of a hassle for us.” 
all you can do is hum and follow her, afraid of embarrassing yourself from how flustered and inaudible you are. 
the car ride consisted of you trying to not stare at her sharp, defined features the whole time. it was very difficult to not glance here and there, a few times you had your eyes glued on her godly cheekbones and sometimes you even eyed the way her bones would pop out when she turned the wheel.  
during the car ride, you found it increasingly challenging to avert your gaze from her captivating, exquisitely sculpted features. the temptation to steal a glimpse here and there proved irresistible, as her godly cheekbones held your attention.  
at times, you couldn't help but be captivated by the protrusion of her bones as she maneuvered the steering wheel. after eyeing it for too long, jihyo caught you in her peripheral and turned to face you – the light was red anyway – then smiled cheekily. she moved her hand towards your thigh, placing it dangerously close to the dampening area in between your legs. 
“you alright lovely? you seem a little tense.” jihyo asks, rubbing your thigh with her thumb just barely. “something on your mind?” 
you fought back a low whimper before you respond, “i’m fine, thanks.” you try, voice small as she adds more pressure to your skin. you try your best to remain calm and composed, but god it’s so hard when she’s touching you there and like that. “it’s not important, i was just daydreaming.” 
(your daydreaming will be increasingly explicit from now on.) 
the light turns green and jihyo puts her hand back on the wheel as she turns away from you, redirecting her attention on the road. your jaw tenses and you shift in the seat a little, thighs closing and rubbing together. 
jihyo pretends not to notice and fights back a smirk. 
-- 
the two of you would enter the restaurant together with jihyo linking your arms and smiling at you like she didn’t just make you ten times hornier than you already are daily. 
as you enter, you are immediately mesmerized by the extraordinary interior. the lighting casts an enchanting, almost mystical ambiance, wrapping the space in an intimate aura. the arrangement of tables is meticulously planned, each one positioned with precision and attention to detail. the sheer beauty of the place is breathtaking, leaving you in awe. it’s evident that reservations at this place come with a hefty price tag, most definitely surpassing the cost of more than half of your apartment's monthly rent; maybe almost as much as what you and sarah pay together.  
jihyo leans in closer to your ear, lips brushing against your skin and it sends a shiver down your spine. “come lovely, let’s find our seats.” she says, then walks you over with her to the man with slicked back hair and an impossibly perfect posture. he gives you the table number and holds his arm out in the direction of it, then jihyo thanks him with that weirdly arousing voice she has and tugs on your arm lightly. 
there are other men that are scattered around the dining area, they all notice jihyo as soon as she steps in – who wouldn’t? 
she’s stone faced as she walks with you and towards the table, her stern expression unfazed by the stares from men that aren’t accompanied by their respective lovers. though, maybe those with their own lover took a small glimpse. 
you feel a little small, most eyes are on jihyo though a good amount also land on you. it seems that the two of you have taken the attention of the majority, which freaks you much as much as it flatters you. jihyo seems to notice the attention on you too, then subtly brings you closer to her.  
jihyo sits down first and flattens out her outfit before she fixes her hair, then pats down the seat next to her. you sit down and she brings your chair a little closer before leaning towards your ear and speaking again. 
“thank you for coming, i wouldn’t have been able to make it to the table this quickly if it weren’t for you.” 
you hum, then ask, “why is that?” 
“the men here are shameless, they hit on me dinner after dinner.” jihyo sighs, then lowers her voice when she says, “i guess they were too distracted by you. you’re a sight worth skipping dinner for.” 
you gulp, laughing off her suggestive compliment before boldly responding, “i think most would much rather… indulge in you. i get their standpoint, though.”  
as you begin to fix the delicate fabric of your dress, a subtle flicker of surprise dances within jihyo's widened eyes. with her grip on her handbag growing tighter, her gaze shifts towards you, a newfound intensity in her look. you turn to look right back in her eyes, almost challenging her with this new confidence of yours. it’s in this moment that the unspoken connection seems to deepen, the tension drawing you two closer. the allure she now feels towards you, layered with a hint of curiosity and urge to undress you, is palpable yet carefully restrained. 
three more men greet jihyo formally and she smiles forcefully at them before they take their seats and indulge in their own conversation. the menus are handed once everyone settles in and everyone glances at the options. the selection intimidates you; half the dishes incorporate foreign words that you had never heard of.  
jihyo places her hand on your thigh again, this time higher than before. she looks at you with those drilling brown eyes and squeezes a bit.  
“know what you’d like?” 
your breath shakes reluctantly, but you respond with a leveled tone. “yeah, the chicken chasseur.” there’s a ninety percent chance you butchered that pronunciation, half of the reason was because you never really paid attention in your french three class your junior year of high school, and the other half was because jihyo’s fingers started tracing patterns into the flesh of your thigh. 
“right, the chasseur,” she says teasingly, pronouncing it correctly. “that’s one of my favorites.” 
“i see, i’ll definitely like it then.” 
“mhm.”  
the waiter comes by – the same guy with the slicked back hair – he introduces himself in a deep, formal tone. it catches you off guard that his name is so simple: michael. he takes all of your orders, then collects each menu. as soon as he leaves, one of the men at the table attempt to strike up some small talk with jihyo, and she responds with blunt, uninterested answers. the men are left intimidated and out of luck, then try to succeed in initiating a meaningful conversation with you. 
“what was your name dear?” one says, his features implying that he’s not too far off from how old your parents are.  
hesitantly, you respond with a polite “y/n,” before smiling respectfully. he narrows his eyes and smirks before glancing down, it leaves you uneasy. jihyo clears her throat and sends daggers at him with her glare. 
“how are you and your wife, samuel?” she questions, quirking a brow before your waiter arrives with a bottle of white and red wine. the man who’d bee blatantly chekcing out your chest area grimaces, then fakes a smile. 
“we’re doing fine.” he says a little sternly, then halts his attempts at socializing with you. 
you send jihyo a thankful glance, she responds with a grin before swirling the white wine in her glass and giving a sip, then sips. 
“this is good, have some dear.” she says, urging you with a tilt of her head to try some of the identical wine in your own glass. “do you like wine?” 
“kind of, i mean, i never really indulge...” your response gives you a quick flashback of the various cheap selections of alcoholic drinks you’ve downed at house parties you’d attend here and there. you grab your glass and copy what jihyo does – you don’t really know how to sip on wine without it looking like you can’t even afford three sips – then raise your brows in surprise once you get a taste. it's sharp and fruity, much richer than the past drinks you’ve had. 
“good?” jihyo says amusingly, observing your expression. 
“it’s wonderful.” 
she grins at you, then gances around the table hastily. two of the men continue to glance over even as they talk withe ach other, it seems that you two just can’t escape the attention. the appetizers arrive a minute later and the two of you indulge, unable to create any small talk or anything like that with your company. jihyo decides she’s craving a different type of appetizer as soon as she sees you wipe your lip subtly. 
“come with me to the restroom, the main courses won’t be out for a little while.” jihyo insists, then looks around at the men busy with their bread, butter, and various other appetizers that sound too complicated for how they look. “besides, i'd rather be alone with you than surrounded by them for the time being.” 
once again, a tremor of anticipation seeps through you, your breath quivers with a mix of nerves and eagerness. jihyo just get’s bolder by the second. 
although it’s a simple trip to the restroom – a countless number of times you and your friends have scurried off to the comofrting ‘sanctuary’ of the girls’ room for meaningless conversations and minuscule touches of makeup – yet, with jihyo accompanying you now instead of your stupid best friends, your mind is propelled into an intricate labyrinth of scenarios, infused with explicit scenarios that jihyo stars in.  
jihyo gracefully positions herself before the strangely exquisite mirror, which is not only unreasonably large and fancy, but it also manages to delicately enhance her plump lips after applying a fresh coat of lipstick. as she caresses her captivating pout, you become mesmerized by the subtle dance of her lips, gently gliding against each other like silk. she releases her pursed lips with a faint “pop” sound before she looks at you through the mirror. 
“daydreaming again?” jihyo asks. you shake your head and walk over to the sink next to her before fixing your hair for no apparent reason. a smirk tugs at her lip sbefore she turns so that her back is facing you. “zip up my dress for me? seems to have gone loose.” 
without a word, you move your hands over to deftly maneurver the zipper along the length of her dress. the entire tableau unfolds so quickly, though there’s an unexpected intamacy that lingers in the air, seeming slightly out of place but it’s also undeniably enticing. your hold your breath unknowingly. 
“you know y/n,” jihyo starts, your hands still on the zipper. “you’re so easy to rile up, it’s cute.” 
“what?” you respond with disbelief, pretending that her statement isn’t the turth. she turns around and tilts her head, eyes narrowing as she draws her attention down to your lips – now parted – then brings a thumb to graze the bottom lip. 
“c’mon baby, think i didn’t notice how you were in the car?” she chuckles, now moving her fingers down to your chin and moving and pushing down on your chin to tilt your head down just barely. “staring at my chest and all of me so clearly in my own house... darling, do you think i’m a fool?” 
you gulp, her eyes peering into yours and waiting for an answer. you’re absolutely dumbfounded, cheeks burning violently. 
“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to--” 
“oh honey, i'm not against it.” she assures, smiling at you and bringer her hand down to play with the dainty necklace around you rneck. “if anything, i want you just as much as you seem to crave me.” 
“i--” 
she cuts you off, pressing a chaste peck to your lips. when she pulls away, you subconciously lean forward to catch her lips again, whining lowly. jihyo giggles softly before putting her thumb against your lips, adding pressure to halt your eagerness. 
“gosh, you’re adorable.” jihyo says, “i could just ruin your pretty little self right here.” 
“jihyo, please” 
she laughs, pleased, raising her brows and smirking at this new, desperate y/n she’s brought to the surface.  
“tell me how much you want me and i'll let you have more, can you do that?” 
your cheeks are on fire and so are your ears. jihyo pulls away further so she can fully see your face, stroking her knuckles down the curve of your cheek. you swallow shallowly before opening your mouth to speak, but hesitate.  
“c’mon baby, use your words for me. you can do that, can’t you?” 
“yes, yeah,” you sigh, trying to keep your voice stable. jihyo smiles, then presses a haste kiss to your jaw. your breath out shakily, bringing a hand to jihyo’s forearm.  
this has to be a dream, there’s no way matt’s aunt is this close to you – and like this. jihyo's pressing kisses down your jawline and neck, nibbling softly and eliciting sharp breaths. everything feels unreal, it’s so unexpected and you don’t know what to do while she brings a knee in between your legs. 
“i’m going to stop if you don’t tell me what you want pretty girl.” 
you sigh, almost moaning at the way her voice bounces off your skin.  
“someone’s going to walk in...” you mumble, placing your hand on her waist. 
“isn’t that part of the thrill?” jihyo asks, “tell me what you want.” 
“kiss me, please jihyo.” 
“that all?” 
of course it’s not all, you want to be pushed to the point of tears and incoherent sobs – but not here, not now. you can only groan at the untimely situation, wanting jihyo to take your time with you someplace less unorthodox. 
“when we go back... i want you to... do more.” you mumble shyly, watching jihyo move away from your neck so that she’s inches away from your face. her lips curl up into a mischievous smile as she twirls your hair. 
“i’ll take it easy on you for now,” jihyo chuckles, “come here.” 
without hesitation you lean forward, messily and eagerly meeting jihyo’s lips again. the two of you get used to everything and ease into each other’s contact, jihyo leading the way. she tugs on your bottom lip gently and you gasp, which gives her the chance to slide her tongue in and explore your mouth. 
you’ve madeout with girls countless times, but it’s always been messy, rushed, and the only thing you could taste and smell was cheap aochol. your past experiences have been nothing like what’s happening right now. 
you can taste the hints of fruit and slight vanilla in that expensive white wine from earlier, it’s even better when you get to taste it off of jihyo. she tastes divine. she’s so precise and skilled with her tongue and lips, immediately adjusting to the pace of the moment and ultimately leaving your knees weak. jihyo's fucking skilled, she knows what she’s doing and everything feels so goddamn euphoric. 
she pushes you against the marble of the sink area and you moan into her mouth when she squeezes your ass, making her smirk against your lips cheekily. you’re like a puppet in her control, and she knows just the right movements and subtle touches to get you going. 
jihyo pulls away suddenly and you whine, trying to pull her back. she holds you in place firmly, lingering near your lips and chuckling against them.  
“why-- why did you stop?” you ask desperately, pathetically pinching the fabric of her dress tighter.  
“pretty girl, you’ve forgotten where we are haven’t you? the main course might be out.” 
“but jihyo--” 
“listen,” she says sternly, sending a shiver down your spine. a soft smile is displayed, which soothes your nerves after witnessing it. jihyo tucks your hair behind her ear. “let’s make a deal, how about that?” 
“okay,” 
“if you can...” she starts, twirling the hair on the nape of your neck. “...be good for me and stay patient, then i'll reward you when we get back to the house. can you be good for me pretty?” 
a lump forms in your throat, making it difficult to respond. you try your best to do so anyway. 
“mhm, i can.” 
“good. i'd love to ruin you right here, don’t get me wrong, but there’s other guests that expect me to be present.” 
fuck those other guests, you need to take her right here and right now. she can’t just rile you up like this, give you the best makeout session of your life and then end it so abruptly. regardless, she possesses an innate power - she's jihyo. you're completely enthralled and under her control anyway, whether you know it or not. 
she lets out a cold, menacing chuckle and flashes you a provocative grin. she delicately reshapes your disheveled hair and then tends to her own cascade flowing down. you can feel the lingering presnce of her own lips on yours -- slightly swollen and vividly tinted -- and although jihyo remains unfazed by the evidence of her artistry, it's clear she revels in your visible discomposure. if others were to connect the dots, she couldn't care less; if anything, she welcomes it. she's evil, and all you want is more of her. 
so you’ll have to behave for the time being, because who knows what she’s capable of. 
“ah, you’re back park. the food got here ten minutes ago.” samuel says, raising a brow in suspicion.  
the men’s plates are already half eaten, and then there’s two plates that are left untouched on the table. jihyo eyes you, raising her brow before elegantly reaching for her utensils. 
she clears her throat and lies, “lady troubles.” which earns a flush on each of the men’s faces, and a brief apology from samuel. 
the remainder of the dinner becomes utterly unbearable. it’s not just the men engaging in dumb, uninteresting conversations -- which require you to perform an artificial smile, direct focus, and provide meaningless responses - but underneath the table, jihyo teases you. her delicate hand grazes your thigh intermittently. the whole thing is excruciating, causing an overwhelming surge of sexual frustration that genuinely throbs between your legs. the only thing you crave right now is her touch again; you don’t know how many more times you can utter “oh how interesting,” before exploding completely. 
an hour passes and it’s finally time for jihyo to bid her farewells, finally. 
the farewells’ had to take at least ten minutes, since jihyo’s pretty high up there in whatever she does. you never really knew, but it wasn’t your place to ask. 
jihyo unlocks her black porsche, which is remarkably eye-catching, though not as much as the driver. you get in the passenger's side and she’s already inside turning the engine on, one hand on the stick. she backs up smoothly, then gets out of the parking lot quickly. 
the car ride is almost silent for three-quarters, the only thing that pokes at the tension is jihyo’s hand on your thigh. she's driving one handed, it’s a common skill – you drive one handed here and there – but when jihyo does it, your thighs try to ease whatever is going on in between. 
“did you enjoy the meal?” jihyo asks, eyes on the road. 
“yeah, it was great.” 
“mhm,” she hums, then squeezes your flesh a bit. “how was the dessert? did it suit your tastes?” 
you let out a shallow breath, “yeah.” 
“good.” jihyo says, then smiles to herself. “we’re almost home.” 
you can only hum in response, growing impatient. 
jihyo clicks a button and the garage door opens, then drives in slowly. she has to be doing this on purpose, just to test you. you’re going to endure the aching, because at the end of the rainbow there’s always gold, and you’re her good girl. 
when you enter the house, it’s completely dark, then jihyo turns on the light and you have to fight the urge to kiss her again. 
“come,” she orders, turning to walk towards the stairs to the second floor. she's swaying her hips a little on purpose, she must be – or you’re just horny, or both. 
finally, after what seemed like centuries, you make it to her room. she closes the door behind you as you walk in. 
“sit down on the bed for me.” you do as you’re told wihtout hesitation, sitting down on the soft mattress of the king sized bed. the sheets are perfectly set on the bed, so are the blankets and pillows, but something tells you that it won’t be like that by the end of this night. “good girl.” 
she glides towards you, delicately raising your chin and fixing her gaze upon you, like an artist admiring a masterpiece. she revels in the sight of your flushed cheeks, the gentle parting of your lips, and the slight up turn of your brows, all traits that make this vulnerable rendition of you enticingly irresistible. her eyes grow dark, consumed by a yearning that she has now ardently realized; this is what she’s been wanting ever since she first laid eyes on you. 
“clothes off for me sweetheart.” immediately, you start to slip yourself out of the dress. jihyo decides to be generous, helping you out a bit since she’s quite eager herself.  
now, you find yourself perched delicately on the edge of her bed, goosebumps on your skin even as warmth envelops you. you’re nearly exposed, clad only in delicate undergarments that hold jihyo's gaze captive. a sigh escapes her lips, swiftly followed by a mischievous smirk, a telltale sign of her satisfaction.  
jihyo's going to have the meal of her life, nothing she had for dinner that night would ever compare to you. she hasn’t even gotten a taste of your arousal yet, but she already knows. 
“you’re beautiful,” she mutters before closing the distance, kissing you on the lips. you sink into all of it: the hand on your cheek, the knee shifting in between your legs, and simply her touch.  
she maneuvers your body onto the bed, positioning herself on top, ensnaring your legs with her own. with an air of urgency, she kisses you harshly, whisking away the very essence of oxygen from your lungs. she pulls away to see you all hot and heavy, watching the desperate rise and fall of your chest while your eyes meet hers in a gaze brimming with insatiable lust.  
“up,” she mutters, to which to respond by propping yourself on your elbows. she skillfully works away at the clasp of your bra, unclipping it and throwing the garment some place off the bed. “god, you’re so beautiful, you know?” jihyo says before fastening her lips on your neck, sucking violently. 
as your voice becomes stifled, attempting to form words proves worthless under jihyo's intimate touch. she delicately explores your body, her lips grazing your neck, causing shivers to cascade down your spine. the symphony of your helpless moans resonates wonderfully, she just wants every ounce of pleasure you can offer, greedy for all of you. 
“f-fuck, oh my god...” you groan helplessly, squirming under jihyo as her mouth starts to tend to your tits. your hand lands in her hair, gripping tightly as her tongue swirls around your perked up bud. her tongue was great in your mouht, but holy shit it’s ten times better when pushing you near your climax. she hasn’t even touched the ache in between in your legs and you feel like you could cum right then and there. 
jihyo gets up and looks down on you like a predator would with its prey, eyeing your vulnerable, exposed body that she’s ravenous for. there are marks along your neck and chest, jihyo’s artwork looking better than anything a museum could hold. 
she still has her dress on, though it swiftly finds the floor in a few moments. your gaze becomes fixed upon her, witnessing a new prize the further the dress drops down. in the wake of this unveiling, she stands before you, clad only in undergarments—pricey, hot looking ones. your eyes fixate upon her chest and the sight of her tits leaves you wide eyed. the alluring contours of her abdomen draw your attention next, effortlessly accentuating her absolutely unreal, fit body. she leans back slightly and her ass catches your attention, rendering you speechless. everything about her is divine and you find yourself completely engulfed in desire.  
all of this is so unreal and you figure it has to be one of those dreams that gets cut off by the alarm for your morning classes; but no, this is real, it’s especially real as jihyo slides her hand down from the top of your chest to just above your waist. her fingers tease the fabric covering your cunt, tantalizingly grazing it. 
“want me inside baby?” jihyo asks, subtly sticking her fingers under the edges of the fabric. you nod desperately, which makes jihyo laugh. “gosh you’re so wet honey, need me that badly?” she teases, and you can only respond with a weak hum. 
she slides off your panties quickly, you whimper pathetically in response her skin encounters wetness. 
her fingers glide slowly along your folds, easily moving up and down with how aroused you are. she brings her fingers back to her lips, getting a faint taste as your back subconciously arches against the mattress.  
“want me inside?” 
“please.” 
“beg harder.” jihyo chuckles, moving her fingers back to your pussy and teasing you carelessly as she lightly slides up and down the damp folds.“i won’t let you get it that easy. if you want something i want to hear you say it, sugar.” 
you whine, breathing out through your parted lips.  
“please, i need your fingers inside jihyo,” you sigh, voice all nasally and airy. “i want you to fuck me how you want, just make me cum please, you can have your way with me i don’t care. fuck, i'm all yours.” 
“perfect.” she says, then harshly pushes two fingers into your dripping cunt. your head shoots back into the pillow it’s on and your fingers grip the sheets tightly, the curse you cry out practically echoes throughout the room.  
she pounds into you with those slender fingers, maneuvering skillfully inside and out, curving at the right spots and leaving you breathless. tears form at the corners of your eyes, her other hand holds you down, pushing down on the middle of your torso to keep you from squirming so much. 
the amount of pressure she adds to your clit occasionally renders you weak, you’re a moaning, squirming hot mess and jihyo has never been this turned on in years. 
an indescribable sound escapes your lips, a melodic symphony of affirmation and inclination. jihyo's fingers plunge in and out, in and out – delving deeper into the depths of your core with each intoxicating thrust. she retreats momentarily before venturing even further, introducing a third digit into the hypnotic rhythm.  
i'm fucked. 
there was this sensation of being utterly reinvigorated, inside and out, in the most euphoric way that only your moans could describe. you've never been fucked this good, seriously, you can’t remember the last time you’ve been this turned on and goddamn submissive. it's insane how quick and easy jihyo managed to do it. 
the knot in your stomach seems tighter and you’re about to find out just how goddamn well it feels to come undone because of park fucking jihyo. matt's aunt. 
“f-fuck i'm, hnnh i'm so close--” you whimper, voice dying down in your throat, “p-please,”  
“god you’re so beautiful,” jihyo says right before hitting your clit with her palm as she pushes into you. then, with a stronger arch and near sob, you tighten around her fingers and grip the sheets tightly, clinging on for dear life as you reach your high.  
jihyo pulls her fingers out and massages your clit lightly, still stimulating you as you recover. your legs are shaking, still, and your ribs are exposed as you lay there and breathe heavily.  
“be a good girl for me, y/n, you can do that. you will.” jihyo says before slamming into you again with three digits, making you gasp from surprise and pleasure. you've barely had time to recover, and yet jihyo is torturing you yet again. 
it feels like your pussy is being torn to shreds, you can hear the “squelch” and clap with every point of contact. 
you try to say something – exactly what, jihyo doesn’t know or minds because she’s too infatueted with every jolt and twitch of your body – and then you let out another loud cry that sounds something like “fuck,” before your body goes limp, twitching every now and then.  
she pulls her hand out – dampened with your clear arousal – and gets a taste of her middle and pointer finger. she drags her fingertips up along your torso -- sending a shiver down your spine – then brings her damp fingers to your mouth. 
“open.” 
without hesitation, you comply, tasting your own arousal off her skin by swirling your tongue messily. your eyes lock with hers before you suck, going down to the base of where her fingers connect and sliding up until you get all of your arousal off. 
“good girl.” 
she slides down your body, now she’s facing your cunt directly. you shiver in anticipation, a little scared but for the most part turned on one hundred times more than ever. she presses a sweet kiss to your pussy – quite different from how ruthless she was earlier – before she indulges, making you press the back of your hand against your forehead. 
god her tongue, it’s like it’s made to leave girls like you fighting for air. she holds your thighs, pressing her fingers into your flesh as she absolutely devours you. it's not too long before you feel that same knot in your stomach, and this time to leave you screaming she simply flattens her tongue against your sensitivity and sucks on your clit harshly. 
there's tears on your cheeks now, and more start to trail down as jihyo starts to fuck you dumb again. whatever is leaving your mouth is incoherent, practically gibberish as you squirm around. she forcefully spreads your thighs apart – which says a lot about her stretngth considering how you’re getting fucked into oblivion – keeping oyu in place even as you start to turn your body and roll onto your side desperately.  
“you taste so, mmh, good.” jihyo mumbles, “fuck, this is better than the dessert we had.” 
you can barely comprehend what she’s saying because your minds so goddamn foggy and you’re literally sobbing from how overwhelming everything is. but it feels so good, if she stopped you’d be crying for a different reason rather than pleasure. 
jihyo feels your thighs shake beside her head, then feels a hand on her head gripping her hair tightly and pushing down against your cunt before the trembling stops. the cry you let out stops before it leaves your mouth, so you cum with an airy, choked out sob.  
jihyo's gaze fixates upon your pulsing, swollen cunt – dripping with your sweet arousal. she rises to her knees, gracefully straddling you, drawing her attention to the rise and fall of your chest. your disheveled hair frames your features, adorned with a rosy flush and the remnants of tears. a soft smile dances upon her lips, a testament to the mess she’s made. 
jihyo falls down to your tummy, scattering feathery kisses. she ascends to your chest, your neck, and at last, your lips. you kiss her sloppily, weakly reaching to cup her cheek while she traps your top lip between both of hers. she pulls away and fixes up your hair, then rubs her thumb along your tear stained skin. 
“you did so good for me baby,” she assures, watching you sniffle. “are you alright?” 
“yeah.” you mumble weakly, smiling softly at her. “i just, need to relax.” you chuckle softly before jihyo pecks your lips again. 
“i’ll help you clean up, stay here pretty.” jihyo says, rubbing your rib with her thumb softly. 
-- 
the two of you wake up an hour before lunch the next morning. jihyo rubs your thigh with her hand, massaging it to reduce the soreness. she insists that you two get up since matt is coming over in a few hours and it takes a while for you to get down the stairs without falling – jihyo did a great job, your legs are wobbly and aching– but nonetheless you make it downstairs to the kitchen. 
jihyo lets you set your head on your cross arms over the counter since you’re so drowsy, she laughs and presses a kiss before fetching ingredients for lunch. you watch her with tired eyes; her muscles flex and tense as she assembles the ingredients for the sandwiches, leaving you stupidly mesmerized. 
you get up and stretch your arms out, then walk over to the older woman. a short giggle leaves your lips as you wrap your hands around jihyo’s waist, she laughs wholeheartedly. 
“did you need something?” 
you kiss her head and linger before responding, “no, you just looked good from the back.” 
“i have to cook lunch, matt is coming home in an hour.” jihyo says, turning to face you, lips inches away from yours.  
as you carefully adjust the stovetop temperature to a low, your gaze lands on jihyo, prompting a mischievous smile to play upon your lips. your hands rest on her waist, you turn her body to face you, drawing her nearer with a subtle bite of your lip. jihyo rolls her eyes, a familiar exchange between you both, before your lips meet, you smile into it as you always do. 
jihyo guides you towards the kitchen island, never relenting on the heat of her kisses. an involuntary groan escapes your lips as she playfully bites your lower lip, igniting subtle throbbing sensations in you. her lips, feather-light, wander along your jawline, slowly tracing the curves of your face like a breeze meeting petals of a flower.  
mindful of your pleasure, you tilt your head back, granting her unrestricted access. her tongue traces your sensitive skin, a captivating and sensuous touch that sends shivers down your spine. jihyo has this power of leaving you breathless in seconds. in the moments between kisses, delightful giggles escape jihyo's lips. 
“you’re such a--” another kiss to your jaw, “--tease.” jihyo says unbelievably.  
“and you’re the one who’s ah- enjoying this.” 
jihyo squeezes your ass gently before kissing your lips again, backing you into the marble of the counter and placing her hands on the edge as she smiles into you. 
lost in pleasure and eagerness, the two of oyu fail to hear the sound of the door being unlocked, opened, and then closed. jihyo's hand slides just barely under your shirt, tickling your ribcage with the brush of her fingers. you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her closer, turning your head a little more to get a better taste, to get more of jihyo. 
“um, y/n?” a voice interrupts the two of you, and it’s too familiar.  
it unfolds like a movie scene; you and jihyo turn to find matt standing there, gripping a backpack strap tightly, his visage a mix of appalled and perplexed. in a rush of apprehension, both of you instinctively release each other, striving to create as much distance as possible while smoothing down stray strands of hair and meticulously adjusting wrinkled garments. 
“matt,” jihyo says, trying to recompose herself—but the blush on her cheeks doesn’t die down whatsoever. “you’re home early. i thought you were coming back at 1?” 
“yeah...” he says awkwardly, embarassed and flushed as he tries to avoid any eye contact. “i was just going to say hi and um, work on homework.” 
“alright, i was just making dinner with--” jihyo clears her throat, “y/n.” 
matt looks between the two of you, narrowing his eyes and sighing.  
“how long have you two been... doing this?” 
you and jihyo exchange a look before you decide to speak up this time, “let’s all sit down at the table and talk about this, how about that?” 
now, you’re trying to form the words to explain that you’ve fucked some kid's aunt the night before, and jihyo’s trying to do properly conjure up a sentence that explains the marks on your neck. 
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sugar-coated-slut · 1 year
Text
𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠
𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 • Ever the light sleeper Toji quickly wakes up to you slipping the covers off him. His ire turns to interest when you divulge your lewd intentions of sucking his cock.
𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 • 2.6k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 • pwp, cock drunk!reader, pussydrunk!toji, oral (giving), praise, sucking toji's balls, daddy, mama/good girl/princess, thigh riding, some begging, dacryphilia, no prep, light pain kink, heavy size kink - toji is a beefy man with a big daddy cock, some choking, creampie, hints of mind break, squirting, some mirror sex, toji is so soft for you and is fucking you like he hates you
toji-bear all works
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Quietly setting down Toji's bitter, black coffee on your side table. You climb into bed, carefully slipping your comforter, revealing Toji’s chiseled, fat pecs, and his deeply contoured abs.
Toji grabs your blanket, grumbling, shifting from his side onto his back. You freezing, waiting for Toji to settle and his grasp to loosen. Seconds trickle by of you freely admiring him.
His thin, dark eyebrows furrowed above narrow, almond-shaped eyes. Which are lightly lined by his ever-present dark circles. Dark, bold hickeys trail between Toji's sharply defined clenching jaw and prominent collarbones. There are more scattered on his pecs.
Loosening his grip, slipping his hand beneath his pillow. Sleep roughens Toji’s deep and otherwise smooth voice. “Whatcha ya want?” Opening his eyes, a beautiful shade of emerald green. Toji's lips scar deepens with his sleepy, cocky half-smirk.
Desperately mewling, “Need you Daddy.” Gliding your fingertips down his hard abdomen. “I’m soaking through my panties, been thinking of your cock since I woke up. Couldn’t keep my hands to myself much longer.” Gathering your comforter to the side by the wall and window.
Toji pushes himself up, stuffing more pillows behind himself. You settle between Toji's muscular thighs, whilst he reaches for his coffee. "How badly does my future baby mama need me? " You push aside the curtains of your bedside window. Showing the forest composing your backyard.
Casting golden light across the bed. Gliding your fingers along the deep middle line of Toji's abdomen. Tracing down towards his v-line, whilst he sips on his coffee. Grasping Toji's heavy cock, too thick for your fingers to wrap around.
You croon, "You've been pressing your naked body against me all night. Been driving me crazy Daddy. Need you so badly I can't think of doing anything else but being your cum-filled cock-sleeve." Holding him upright, kissing the ridged line of Toji's cockhead. Fondling his balls.
Gliding his fat head into your mouth, swirling your tongue. Toji falters, groaning, "That's it princess. You're hot, wet mouth 's so good. Fuckin' take Daddy deeper, know ya can." Bobbing your head, taking most of Toji’s heavy, fat cock. One of his thick veins glides along your flattened tongue.
Relaxing your mouth, deep-throating most of Toji. Swirling your hand around the rest you can't fit. Groaning his hips buck from the vibrations. You gently massage your fingers into his warm, squishy balls.
There's a clink of the mug hitting the side table. Looking up at Toji's handsome face. A crease forms between his thin furrowing brows. His lips form the perfect o. Your pussy throbs from Toji's raw groans, and breathy, deep moans.
"Ngh fuck princess! Deep throat Daddy's cock. Good girl, you're so fucking sexy." Hungrily watching you with emerald eyes.
Jerking his hip, trying to follow your lips as you slide him out with a pop. Gliding, twisting your fist along Toji's veiny, thick cock. Swiping your thumb over his head, smearing his pre-cum.
You croon, "You're leaking so much Daddy, your balls must be full of so much cum." Letting go of Toji's balls, wrapping your lips around him. Swirling your tongue around his fat, warm sack. Pumping your fist faster, as Toji digs his heels into your bed.
Groaning with a mouthful of Toji's balls. "Gonna give you every drop princess. After I finish my coffee I'm going to stuff your beautiful soaking wet, little cunt." You let go of Toji's balls, kissing them.
Protesting, "You haven't even taken more than a few sips." Holding Toji's heavy cock upright, spitting on his cock. Slipping your head between your thighs. Gliding your fingertips through your wet lips. Gathering your slick which you smear on your clit with each stroke.
Toji rests his large, heavy hand on top of your head, rhetorically wondering, "How can I? I'm too busy enjoying your hot, wet, pretty mouth on my cock and balls." You're suckling his cockhead, the salty taste of Toji's pre-cum coating your tongue.
Gliding him deeper into your mouth. Gagging, your throat squeezes his cock. Thrusting his hips up, pushing your head down. Forcing the last two, fat inches of his cock into your mouth.
Rubbing your clit faster, choking on Toji's cock getting you off. Tears blur the sight of Toji's pleasure-drunk expression. Earning a deep, raspy moan from Toji,
"Wanna see those pretty tears, cry for me, princess. Cry 'cause Daddy's cock is too big for your little mouth." Holding your head still with both large hands. Toji splays his fingers out, reaching your temple and your jaw.
Planting his feet on the bed, fervently thrusting his hard cock into the wet, warmth of your mouth. Spit drips down your chin. Trembling from the pleasure of rubbing your clit.
Toji groans, "That's it mama." Whilst fat tears trickle down your face, dripping onto him. Pulling you off his cock, grasping his length, pumping it with his large fist. Your breathing is heavy, as quick as you try to steady before divulging,
"Need you to fuck me till I squirt! I wanna cum so hard on your cock. Daddy you always make my pussy feel so good, it's so much better when you make me cum with your cock." Toji lightly taps his cock on your lips.
"S' that right princess? Do you need to cum on Daddy's cock?" You lightly press one finger after another into his squishy balls. Repeating the process at a steady, smooth pace.
You eagerly plead with Toji, "Wanna be full of Daddy's cock and cum. Please let me cum on your fat, veiny cock." Toji grabs his coffee as you glide his cock deep into your throat. Groaning before he could take a sip.
Pulling you off his cock, insisting, "If you want more of my cock then you're gonna have't be a good girl for me and ride my thigh. Put on a beautiful show n' let me see how stunning you are cumming while I drink my coffee." You slip his cock out, which falls onto his balls with a soft plop.
Leaning forward, kissing his cheek. Splaying your fingers on his chest, groping his fat pecs. You straddle his thigh, whilst reassuring him with,
"I'll be good and clean up my mess afterward." Toji grabs your hip, encouraging you to grind your clit on his brawny thigh, smearing your slick on his thigh. You're mewling and moaning with every shift of your hips.
Toji groping your cheek, letting you set your own zealous pace whilst keeping you steady. "You going to lick my cock clean after I make you squirt mama?" Holding onto Toji's muscular bicep digging in your nails.
Sliding your other hand down his abdomen, towards his cock slipping your hand underneath, cupping his balls. "Cock and balls, won't miss a single spot Daddy." Lightly fondling them in your palm.
Toji kisses your forehead. "That's my good girl." Rocking your hips faster, desperate for that tingling high of cum. Leaning forward putting more pressure on your sensitive clit.
He glides his large hand up from your ass, over your hip. "You're hot grinding your super soaker pussy on my thigh. Can't wait to have your soft little cunt gripping my cock, making such a mess." Caressing up your side to your breasts. Swiping his thumb over your nipple.
There is a pleasurable from the roughness of his finger. Calloused from years of fighting, and labor on your soft nipple pushing you closer towards cumming. "I want your cock right after this, I don't care if it's too much. I need to feel you fucking my cervix. Nnng Daddy fill my soaking cunt with more cock than I can handle." Toji's cock is drooling pre-cum onto your hand.
Grasping his head, swirling your thumb over his wet head, smearing his pre-cum around. Whilst Toji takes a huge gulp of his coffee. Lightly wrapping his thick fingers around your neck.
You mewl one last plea, "I'll be a good girl and take it all! I'm so close please fuck me Daddy!" Pushing the last bit of air out of your lust. Whilst he gradually applies pressure to your neck.
Toji flexes his thigh, the muscles hardening underneath your clit. Any cries you wouldn't he stifles, leaving you soundless with your mouth hanging open. Your eyes roll back as intense ecstasy overwhelms you as you cum.
Roughly setting his mug down, Toji snaps, "Fuck the rest of my coffee. Have't fuck your beautiful ass now." He pushes you off his thighs. Pinning you to the bed as you thoughtlessly, instantly spread your legs for him.
Rutting his hips, rubbing your clit with his fat, warm cockhead. "Good girl, spreading your legs so quickly for me." Lining himself up, "Gonna make you my baby mama." Loosening his grasp as he thrusts his cock past your puffy lips.
Clenching down on him, your pussy barely spreading to let him in. "I fucking love it when she's too tight to let me in, all sensitive and sloppy from cumming." Grabbing your thighs, pressing your folded legs to the mattress in a firm mating press. Toji leans his weight onto you, gliding himself deeper with a harsh push.
Mewling, "Too big, don't stop." Holding onto Toji, scratching his back, pulling his hair.
He grunts, "Your squishy, beautiful little pussy just barely fits me. Want me to fuck her loose with my fat cock till you're dripping my cum?" You can acutely feel every puffy vein, along with the ridged bump of his cockhead. Gliding along your g-spot, the heaviness of his cock gives just the right amount of pressure.
It's too erotic, his raspy, deep groans, your squelching cunt, and the slapping of skin. The weight of his heavy balls hitting your cheeks. Whilst his navel swipes your clit with every thrust.
Squeezing his fat cock with your soaking wet cunt. Toji trembles, his cocky smirk dropping into an o. "Oooohhh fuck! Fuck! Princess your beautiful little cunt is too much." Leaning back, swiping your clit with his thumb. Coaxing you towards cumming towards quickly cumming again. Tingling pleasure spreads from your clit, seeping throughout your body overwhelming you.
Babbling, mewling, "Wanna cum! Wanna cum! Needa cum! Daddy! Don't stop!" Toji keeps his rough, quick pace, steady. "Right there!" You're pussy throbs around him. Bursts of intense ecstasy from his cock head rutting against your squishy cervix building a heavy wet pressure.
"You're getting so close she's quivering around me. Cum on your Daddy's cock like a good girl." Those words have you gushing. "Nng love how I can make your pussy cum so quickly." Stroking your clit, fucking you through your high. As you mewl,
“I love you too Daddy!” Quickly Toji pulls out, his muscular frame trembling. Half smirking at you, his green eyes lush with adoration. Whilst he breaths,
“Shit princess! You can't make me cum just yet. Don’t want to stop fucking your hot, squelching little cunt. I fucking love ya so much princess, gonna make me cum saying that shit to me.” Flipping you over, pulling your hips up, and spreading your legs.
Lining himself up, tightly grasping your throat, pulling you back to meet his harsh thrust. “What did you do to me mama? Got me going all soft for you and your little pretty super soaker.” Slapping both your cheeks, jerking away from every heavy, stinging slap.
His hand around your throat keeps you from running away. "You're gonna be a good girl for me and take it." Wrapping his arm around your waist. "Can't run away from me if I hold your ass in the air and fuck my cock into your sweet little cunt." With ease Toji slips off the bed, holding your body to his, his cock buried deep in your cunt.
Holding you in front of your vanity mirror. "You're going to watch how good your little pretty cock sleeve takes my cock." Your pussy flutters at the blurry sight of your smaller body pinned to Toji's brawny sculpted muscular one.
Air trickles into your lungs as Toji lets go of your neck. He grabs you're the back of your thighs, spreading your legs apart. Your pussy flutters from seeing Toji suspending you in a mating press.
There is a thick ring of your juices gathering at the base of Toji's cock. Your face is wet with tears, whilst the inside of your thighs is slick. Matching Toji's glimmering wet cock and balls.
Admiring Toji fervently fucking his cock into your soaking wet cunt. You're beautiful, trembling in his grasp. Wearing a love-drunk, adoring expression akin to his.
"We look so good together don't we princess? Look at what a beautiful mess you are, drunk on my cock." Quickly you wind your arms around him, slipping a hand into his hair. Holding onto him, as Toji's pace gradually picks up momentum.
Fucking his cockhead into your plushy cervix. As if trying to push past into your guts. Toji is so achingly handsome. Pulling himself out till his head is making your lips puffy with his head. Too fat to slip out easily.
Rocking himself deep into your cunt with a loud squelch. It's mouthwatering watching Toji's veiny, pale cock gliding past your lips. The sight of him is nothing compared to how he feels inside of you.
Heavy, thick, soft, hard you could tell the placement of every thick vein whilst he balls deep inside. The part you can't help but obsess over the most is the soft texture of Toji's cock rubbing your sensitive pussy contrasts with how rock-hard he is when you clamp down.
You mewl, "Harder daddy! Fuck me harder!" Prompting him to pin you to the bed. Grasping your ass, which hangs off the bed. Keeping you in a mating press, trapping your legs with his weight as he leans over you.
Toji plants his feet harshly rutting himself into you. Grabbing your hair, pulling your head back, kissing you roughly. Parting your lips, he slips his tongue past, tasting of bitter coffee.
Groaning into Toji's mouth. Getting off on how primal it is to be pinned, spread, and fucked into, unable to wiggle away. He breaks the kiss, drunken confessing,
"Mmnn princess, I fucking love you so damn much. So beautiful, sweet, soft, and wet, I love you so fucking damn much. That's it princess I got ya, gonna spoil you, give you everything you want." Your bed protests, creaking, threatening to break.
You're drunk on Toji, he's everywhere saturating your senses. "Too much!" Breathing in Toji's musky scent of lingering the Sauvage cologne you bought him with his money.
All you could feel is Toji's warm, muscular body pressing against yours. His large hands are on your hips, sinking into the soft crease of your hip.
His cock is too hard, fucking plush cervix, pain underlining the pleasure. Clawing at the sheets trying to help you psychically comprehend the intensity of Toji. He lets go of your hips, his weight keeping you from running away from his harsh, quick thrusts.
Grabbing your wrists, pinning them above your head. Propping his foot up on the edge of the bed gives Toji a better angle to thrust deeper inside you. His cockhead bruises your cervix with every harsh, quick, bed-rocking thrust.
Toji is fucking you like he hates you and simultaneously groaning sweet nothings. "Princess you're doing so good taking my cock. Relax mama, Daddy 's gonna take care of you. You can take my cock like a good girl." You're squirting on him thick slick trickling down your thighs. Coating Toji's throbbing cock and drenching his heavy balls.
One of his veins pulses seconds before warm creamy cum trickles inside you. Fucking you through his peak, smearing his cum. "Goddamn mama that was a lot for me good girl." Kissing the top of your head, wrapping your arms around him.
Toji insists "Lemme hold ya whilst I go soft, then eat some breakfast.” Toji grabs your hips lifting you off your bed. Which he climbs onto, settling by the window.
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