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#Rafter Romance
letterboxd-loggd · 26 days
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Rafter Romance (1933) William A. Seiter
April 14th 2024
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hungerofhadarr · 2 months
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I am literally so desperate right now for masquerade ball quest in Wyll’ s quest line like I look foolish . Roll to dance ballroom style so your companions can sneak around and try to gather intel . QUICK IF YOU LET WYLL DIP YOU NO MATTER YOUR SIZE YOU CAN MAKE IT OUT OF HERE WITHOUT GETTING CAUGHT !!!!!!! Okay now QUICKY . You must SPIN HIM . If you fall at this it is fucking over the steelwatch Will Get you . Okay now RAID THE BANQUET TABLES
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graciousdragon · 4 months
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wait okay i just found out about swing me by the rafters and volcano shake em up this is funny as fuck i love it when people just make up fake songs for bands
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Something bad is about to happen right? 😬
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hqmillioncorn · 1 year
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Lalapril 4/11: Eternity
guest starring @windupnamazu’s Butter (last name pending) and Oleo for a split second
Butter had just finished planting planting the last of the daisy seeds he needed to plant that day when Oleo came zipping in, clearly out of breath. Just as Butter was about to ask if something was wrong Oleo grabbed him by the shoulders.
“Butter!!!!!!!! Babycorn just asked me where you are!”
“Huh?!”
“She told me she was specially looking for you!!” Oleo might have been changing the details just a bit but one part was true.
Babycorn had asked if Butter was free for the afternoon.
“Hurry! Butter hurry! It's about to start!”
“C-Coming-! I’m coming!”
Against his better judgement, Butter decided to look down.
Right under the rafters that he and Babycorn were walking on he could see the guests for the eternal bonding ceremony starting to walk in. 
Moogles were flying around in all sorts of directions. He was a little worried that one of them would fly just a little too high and catch him and Babycorn sneaking in.
“Don’t worry Butter! The moogles here are my friends!” Babycorn waved down to one of the moogles that were spreading flower petals around. She only looked a little disappointed when they didn’t wave back. “If one of them sees us they’ll probably just tell us to get out and that’s it!” And if anyone tried to smack Butter with a broom like they did to her before then she would just grab the broom and snap it in half.
Or at least she would try.
Butter let out a nervous laugh. Was his worryness that noticeable?
At the very least he was glad that Babycorn didn’t notice anything else he was feeling.
There were a lot of feelings running through Butter at this very moment actually. One of them was worry of course, but he was also feeling excitement, surprise, absolute terror and a feeling in his stomach that could be classified as butterflies.
He was also very in love at the moment and out of all the emotions he was feeling right now it was the one that was guiding his decisions right now.
Which he guessed was how he now found himself yalms up in the air over an eternal bonding ceremony with his years-long crush surrounded by the dangers of being caught or falling down onto an unsuspecting public of guests.
Of course he didn’t regret any of it. 
Well, he didn’t regret any of it so far.
“Let’s sit over here Butter!” Babycorn waved her hands up and down so he could see where she was. Though they were no less than a few fulms from each other. Babycorn sat down on the rafter and tapped the free space next to her so Butter would know where to sit.
“Here! You can sit right here cause this is like, the best view!”
Butter stopped in his tracks. “A-A-Are you sure? I don’t mind if you wanna sit there!”
“It’s fine! Besides, I've snuck in here lots of times so I’ve seen the best view lots of times too!” Babycorn had heard it was polite to be nice to your guests and since she had invited Butter along with her today that made him her guest! After this she even had plans to take him to go get lunch too!
The butterflies in Butter’s stomach had multiplied and were now in full panic mode. “I…Thanks.” Butter took a few more steps forward and carefully took his seat next to Babycorn.
The rafter under them shook just a bit but integral support safety was the farthest thing from Butter’s mind right now. Babycorn turned to look at him and grinned, sticking her tongue out at him. It was such a simple gesture but it made Butter happy to see her having a good time.
How had she gotten even cuter since coming back from Old Sharlayan???
Babycorn looked down at the sights under them, pointing at something, “Look! Look! See that?”
“Hmm?”
Babycorn paused to look back at Butter. “Why are you looking at me silly?!” Babycorn couldn’t help but laugh a little. Butter was so funny sometimes.
“Oh! U-Uh sorry! I’m sorry!”  
“You might miss the best parts if you’re not looking Butter!”
What was she talking about? Butter was already looking at the best part.
“Um, what were you looking at again?” Butter asked. He hoped that Babycorn wouldn’t get too mad at him for asking.
Babycorn knew she could hardly get mad at him.
“I’m looking at all the pretty flower decorations they have down there! Aren’t they amazing…?”
Butter looked down to see what Babycorn was talking about. There were decorations as far as he could see. Whoever had decided on the decor had decided that roses of all sorts of different colors were the right choice for the ceremony. “Woah...! They are really pretty!” Butter had to agree, they were nice to look at, especially from their viewpoint.
“Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to get eternally bonded to someone.”
Butter froze in place.
“R-Really…? I, um…”
Why was Babycorn telling him this?! Where had this even come from???
Babycorn sighed and held her head in her hands, watching as the eternal bonding ceremony continued under their feet. The bride and groom were walking down the aisle under them. Babycorn stared down at the bride’s veil, watching as it sparkled and shimmered in the light.
All of a sudden Babycorn stood up, the rafter wiggled under her catching Butter by surprise.
“It all just looks so fun! And magical! You know?”
She twirled in place and grabbed onto the ends of her dress, taking a few steps forward on the rafter as if she were walking down the aisle. “I bet I would be the best bride ever!!” Babycorn exclaimed as if it were a competition. And if it were, she was prepared. She had snuck into enough bonding ceremonies that she had found herself practicing all the parts of one.
“Do you ever think about stuff like that Butter?”
“About…? Getting eternally bonded?”
Babycorn nodded.
Butter was sure that his face was probably blushing a bright red now. Thankfully by now he knew that Babycorn couldn’t really tell the difference between when he was or wasn’t blushing. Blushing was just his natural state of being around Babycorn, so she didn’t know Butter could look any other way.
“I…” Butter hesitated for just a moment, “Sometimes…?”
“I knew it! It’s fun to think about, right?!” Babycorn sat back down and laughed to herself , excitedly kicking her legs back and forth. She held her hands up to her cheeks and let out another giggle. “It get me all excited for when I finally get to be eternally bonded with Hildibrand~<3”
At the mention of Hildibrand’s name Butter imagined himself whacking the aforementioned legendary inspector with a giant oversized hammer.
“You’ll come see the ceremony when that happens, right?”
Butter would rather die.
“Yeah of course!”
Okay maybe that was an over exaggeration. He certainly wouldn’t be happy about it. Well, he would be happy for Babycorn but that was where his happiness would end and he would wish the curse of nothing but wet socks for a lifetime on Hildibrand.
Especially if he disappeared for more than a year on her again.
Just the thought of that made Butter unusually mad.
“Hey Butts?”
Butter jumped at the sound of Babycorn’s nickname for him.
“Yes? What is it?”
“If I were to get eternally bonded to someone…H-How do you think it would go?”
Babycorn couldn’t help it. Asking questions for things she didn’t know was just her way of finding things out. It was her second nature to assume that other people always knew more about things than her.
The only problem was that this time, the person she was asking knew just as much about it as she did.
Butter didn’t know what to say.
It wasn’t like he was the expert of eternal bonding ceremonies! He had only ever been to one! Maybe two!
Today marked his possible third one.
Butter looked down at the couple under them. They were still walking down the aisle together but had stopped for just a second. It was still really hard to see what exactly was going on down there but Butter could have sworn they were holding hands now.
“Um…I think whoever you were getting bonded to…They would hold your hand?”
He wasn’t too confident in his answer but he wanted to help Babycorn as much as she could in her quest for answers to things she didn’t know. Lately Babycorn had been visiting the kitchen more often, asking him question after question about cooking and Butter loved-
“Oh!”
All of a sudden Butter felt someone grab his hand.
“Since you’re here I’ll just grab your hand!”
Butter felt his face getting warm.
“If that’s okay?”
Butter wanted to say something. He wanted to say anything. He wanted to tell Babycorn that of course it was okay, but no words were coming out at all.
Eventually Butter gave her a simple nod.
Babycorn smiled. With the same toothy grin that made Butter’s heart practically do backflips every time he saw it.
“What would happen after that?!”
“After that? Um…”
Butter looked around for anything else that would give him the answer. He noticed that the couple had reached the altar, instead of walking together they were now standing in place and facing each other.
“After that you two would um…Look at each other?”
“That’s easy! I’m already looking at you!” Babycorn beamed. She raised her free hand to her head and bent her hand in such a way to mimic Butter’s viera ears. 
“Hee-hee~ See?”
Butter nodded silently. Was there even a name for the level of completely smitten he currently was?
“I think I know what happens after this part!”
“You do?” Butter was just a little afraid of what the next words out of Babycorn’s mouth would be.
“I would tell Hildibrand how much I love him and he would tell me how much he loves meeeee!!”
It was honestly a shock that the guests of the ceremony hadn't heard Babycorn’s high pitched giggling by now. Or the continued sound of an imaginary hammer hammering the ground to hit an imaginary inspector.
Babycorn closed her eyes to think. “I think I would say something like…Oh-! Hildibrand you’re the most coolest and most amazing-est inspector I’ve ever known! And-and-and-! The way you help people is super cool and you’re soooo smart too!”
Butter had heard all of this before. Basically every time Babycorn had come home recently she always had some story to tell about her adventures with Hildibrand that left basically everyone more confused as the more the story went on.
“Butter?”
“Hmm?”
“What do you think Hildibrand would say about me?”
Butter froze.
“I…um…He would…”
Deep down, Butter knew exactly what he would say.
“H-He would probably say….Um…” Butter took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “...He would say that…Babycorn Corn Starsinger you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting. I cherish every moment we’re together, it doesn't matter what we’re doing!”
ba-bump
“I love basically everything about you….! From your golden fluffy hair to your cute little button nose. You’re funny, kind, and so, so, courageous. Sometimes I can’t believe that someone as incredible as you could exist!”
ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump
“Your eyes always have this sparkle to them that makes me smile every time! It doesn’t matter what color they are!! And it always amazes me when I think about how you decided to fight for the world that hurt you so much. You’re amazing…!”
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“You’ve given so much, you’ve done so much. I want to be able to give you something in return! I want to support you in whatever you’re going to do next! I want to…to…to…uh...uhhh...UUUUHHH.”
Butter had just now realized what he had done.
“Yeah! That’s what he would say or something like that!!! Haha!!!” Butter quickly let Babycorn’s hand go in favor of holding his hands nervously while looking at anything else besides Babycorn.
To say that Butter was mortified at the words that had spilled out of his mouth would be the understatement of the century.
Babycorn remained silent.
But not for long.
“Wow! He would really say all that?! You know Hildibrand so well Butter!”
Butter slumped down. He had never been more relieved that Babycorn tended to take things at face-value than at this very moment. “Yeah! Haha! I guess I do?” He didn’t really know what else to say at this point.
“Hey Butter? Can I ask you another question?”
Butter feared for his life now. “Y-Yeah of course!” Hopefully this question didn’t involve any more of Hildibrand. He didn’t know how much more he could take of that guy.
Then Butter felt something brush up against his hand.
“Is it okay if I hold your hand for just a little bit more time?” Babycorn asked.
“H-Huh?”
“I’m sorry…It’s just…” Babycorn turned her head to look at something, her other hand unconsciously twirled her braid around a finger. Until she spoke, her voice was as quiet as she could make it.
“...Your hand is warm. It feels nice.”
A million versions of ‘Yes.’ and ‘It's fine.’ and ‘Don’t worry.’ spun around in Butter’s head but absolutely none of them were managing to make it out.
Until he decided to just answer Babycorn’s question by holding her hand in his.
Suddenly a round of applause erupted underneath them, catching both lalafells off guard. A quick look down was all they both needed to notice that the eternal bonding ceremony had just concluded.
“Aw fiddlesticks!!” Babycorn leaned forward to look all around the sanctum. Though she had clearly seen that the ceremony was over, she didn’t want to believe it. “I’m sorry Butter! I distracted you so much that we missed the best parts!!” Now he would never ever want to hang out with her ever again!!!
Butter didn’t seem to mind though.
“Don’t worry Babycorn! It was still fun!”
“Oh really?” Babycorn instantly cheered up. “Then do you wanna come back here tomorrow?! There’s this big ceremony that someone’s having and this time there's gonna be like a snack bar! We can totally sneak in and grab some while no one’s looking! It’s gonna be so much fun!!”
“I would love to!”
There was just one thing Butter wanted to mention.
“You know, instead of sneaking in-why don’t we just ask if they can invite you in?” Butter figured that anyone who was anyone would want Babycorn as the special guest of their eternal bonding ceremony. And if they didn’t, well then they were just crazy!!
Babycorn let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, did I forget to mention?”
“Forget to mention what?”
“I’m actually banned for life from here.”
“HUH?!”
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captainsuke · 1 year
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I have two Melbourne MCR tickets to give away and I don't know how to do that
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sykostyles · 2 months
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subject to change 1.0
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wc: 6.4k summary: in which Y/N is a fairly inexperienced romance author, and Harry is a bookstore owner who happens to be a big fan. What happens when he offers her one night to experience some of the things she’s written about? part two
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a/n: hi there! can you tell I'm ovulating? that is the only explanation I have for this one. big shouts to my mootite patootie @celestie0 for being a real girls girl and being my beta reader and personal hype woman! she read the whole thing and she doesn't even like Harry like that! Ellie is a real one. (check out her story kickoff rn!🔪)
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cw: bdsm dynamics, impact play, breath play, spit play, cum play, anal, anal creampie, p in v, facefucking, mild shibari, bondage, use of sir, degradation, edging, spanking, choking, toy usage (vibrator, butt plug), overstimulation, there’s a lot okay reader be warned.
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“Hey, Jenny!” Your voice echoed through the phone. Your publicist had a habit of calling when you were trying to get your daily rough drafting and editing done. Currently you’re staring at a manuscript of the follow up to your latest release, still unsure what to name it. 
“Y/N, I’m glad I caught you! I had something come up for you to start the press tour for your newest release!” Jenny, your publicist excitedly squeals through the phone. Her tone makes you peel the phone away from your ear for a split second. You glance over to your right to look at the book in question. “Little Freak” was your latest release. Another smutty romance novel full of things you’d never actually experienced; only dreamed about. You were experienced enough, but always craved more. But your books were a hit and people were snatching them up left and right.
“A press tour? I’ve never done anything like that.” You respond, balancing the phone between your cheek and shoulder, tapping away at your computer 
“I know, but it’s a signing! At this local shop downtown.” She explains, “The owner says they’d love to host in exchange for the publicity.”
“A signing?” you question. Never did you think a signing would be an event you’d have. ”People want to meet me?” 
“Oh yeah, girl. Loads of people.” She chuckles. “Do you know how many people have sent you fan mail saying you gave them a sexual awakening with your books? So many people want to meet you.” Her response makes you physically laugh. 
“Wow, I'm just writing about fantasies I have.” you chuckle, “But I’m so glad people are finding themselves.” 
“But about this signing!” She continues. “It’s booked for next weekend, but I’ll be going this weekend to meet with the owner and talk about the setup. You can be there if you want or you can just leave that to me.” She continues rambling about anything and everything pertaining to the signing. Ending the call she gives you the address and you tell her you’d meet her there on saturday. 
You loathed taking public transportation, and requesting a car for a short trip seemed pointless to you. So hoofing it, it was. Weaving your way through the city sidewalk, you’d located the shop rather easily. You were shocked you’d never heard of this place before. You’d been through here many times.
“Y/N, over here!” You hear Jenny yell from the corner of the store. It was really nice. Big floor to ceiling windows. Full mahogany bookshelves lining the walls and aisles. A giant seating area with plush chairs, couches and bean bags. A coffee and tea bar near the windows. String lights hang from the exposed rafters. The aroma of the store wafting scents of natural wood, patchouli and vanilla. There’s plants everywhere. The cash register tucked in the corner with a “Owners Picks” section right in front. Harry’s House in big yellow bubble letters on the wall. 
Your eyes just scan everywhere before they fall on Jenny, standing next to a man. A man with emerald eyes, dark chestnut curls, glasses pushed atop his head, and a smile plastered on his face.
“I can’t believe this place has been hiding here,” you state, walking towards her and the man. “Hi, I’m Y/N,” you’re holding your hand out to him. He eyes you before slipping his hand in yours and giving you a delicate shake. Your skin heats up at his touch.
“M’ Harry. S’nice to meet you,” he claims, “I haven’t opened yet. Your signing will be my grand opening.” He states, letting your hand go. What was that?
“That explains why I’ve never seen it before. It’s beautiful in here,” you gesture all around. “It’s so cozy.” Why do you want him to touch you again?
“That was the vision when I was planning everything. When I heard your team was looking for a place to host a signing, I knew it would be perfect for a grand opening as well.” Keep talking.
“You’ve heard of me?” you ask in disbelief with your eyebrow raised. He’s looking at you as if he’s ready to eat you alive. Please do.
“I’m quite a big fan, actually.” he chuckles, “I’ve read all of your releases so far. But, we can discuss that after. Jenny, do show us what your plan is.” He says, leading you both over to the seating area.
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After your sit down meeting with Harry and Jenny, Jenny says she’s heading back to the office to send out the email to your team with the plan. Harry asked you if you’d stay to continue your conversation from earlier and go over more specifics, to which you happily obliged although you felt a tinge of nervousness once you were left alone with him.
You eye him as he prepares some tea for the both of you, getting a really good look this time. Glancing at the furrow in his eyebrows as he focuses on the task at hand. The fabric of his white dress shirt pulled taught across his shoulders as he moves around the space; the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The skin you can see is littered with black ink. The way the veins in his arms start to give you unholy thoughts about how they’d feel wrapped around your neck– 
“You’ll have to forgive my shortness earlier, I’m not used to men telling me they’re a fan of my work,” you chuckle, trying to steer your thoughts in a different direction.
“Ah, not to worry.​​​ It takes more than that to offend me,” he says, walking back to the couch you’re settled on; tea cups in hand. “But, indeed I am a huge fan,” he hands you one of the cups as he takes a seat on the other end of the couch. “I believe the first book of yours I read was Lingering Smoke,” he ponders for a moment, “Or no, it actually was Whipped & Chained,” his recall of your titles make you squirm.
“T-those are my two most popular titles,” you start to speak, praying he didn’t notice the way he made you stutter. He did. You clear your throat before continuing, “but my latest release is wiping the floor with both of those at this rate,” you say, regaining your composure. He offers you a smile. A salacious smile.
“I’m not surprised,” he says, eyeing the pink tinge on your cheeks, “I have read them all though,” he says, shifting his seating position on the couch to now fully face you, “they often give me,” his gaze boring into yours, “ideas,” he’s lifting his tea cup to his lips. You swear you feel a chill down your spine.
“Ideas?” you question, your eyes searching his. Are they darker?
“Ideas.” He affirms. “You should know though. You write about them.” He chuckles.
“I mean, I guess,” you shrug your shoulders, “I’m just writing fantasies I have,” you laugh, but he doesn’t.
“Fantasies? You mean you’ve never done those things? Felt those things?” He asks in disbelief.
You shake your head with a light laugh. “I seriously find that so hard to believe.”
“Please, my college boyfriend could never,” you chuckle, setting your tea cup on the coffee table. “I just drum up some ideas–as you so call them–and put it into a story. Nothing special.” He stares at you in disbelief again. 
“I jus–wow. I honestly expected you to be super well versed in those aspects. Pardon my assumption,” he says, holding his hands up.
“I mean, I guess it’s a pretty fair assumption, so no offense taken. Apparently I’ve given people sexual awakenings according to Jenny,” you laugh making him laugh this time. 
The awkward tension seems to dissipate with the shared laughter, but a different tension seems to linger. He seems so stone-like; like he only has one goal; and that goal is you. Truth be told, you’d happily oblige.
“Would you like to?” He asks, repositioning himself on the couch again, slightly closer to you.
“Like to?” you’re feigning ignorance. You know what he wants, but you're playing dumb.
“Experience those things.” He leans his arm over the back of the couch, taking in the obvious look of desire in your eyes.
“I mean, sure. Who wouldn’t?” You snort, looking over to him but he’s just staring at you. “Oh, you mean like, with you?” you ask slowly, still playing dumb.
He smiles that smile again, “Sure, why not?” He asks. “I’m game if you are.”
“Harry. Do you hear how crazy that sounds? We’ve known each other for half an hour.”
“So? We don’t have to see each other after. I don’t really do ‘feelings’ anyways.” he’s gesturing air quotes around feelings, his tone rather repulsed sounding. “This could be a one time thing. You get to experience some of the things you’ve written about, and I get my rocks off. A win/win situation if you ask me.” He says, gathering the tea cups and sauntering back over to the coffee station. 
“You sound so romantic, Harry,” you chuckle. Maybe this wouldn’t be a terrible idea. The last hookup you had was less than thrilling. And here you have a very attractive man offering exactly what you’ve been looking for. Regardless if it’s for one night, you’re willing to try.
“Interested?” He asks, leaning against the counter behind him.
“Sure. Why not,” You respond, mimicking his words back to him.
You make a mutual agreement to meet up and converse every day over the next week to discuss specifics, what each other's limits are—Harry all but told you he had none—and to remind you that this was all about you and what you wanted to experience. He gave you homework of coming up with what exactly you wanted. Your mind races as you think about what you’d want to experience first. There are so many options! 
He adored the look of mixed emotions on your face; the excitement, the apprehension. The enthusiasm in your voice but also the way you shied away when he asked you to list what you wanted, and how you wanted it. The way you sit on the couch in his bookstore with your legs crossed as you look down at the notebook in your lap. Ever the author; making a rough draft of these taboo acts you want this near stranger to do to you. Harry may not make it out of this alive if you keep looking at him with those eyes.
After your signing is when he’d bring your fantasies to life.
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The spare key to his apartment was burning a hole in your hand as you made your way down the hall. You stood in front of the door a moment, contemplating one last time if this was what you wanted. He reminded you before you left the bookstore that there was no pressure. He would understand if he got home and you weren’t there. But you’re certain you want this. If nothing, you’ll get more fuel for your writing,
Once inside, you set his key on the counter before making your way to his bedroom so you could prepare for his arrival. Nerves are sneaking up on you but they’re overtaken by sheer excitement once you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the wall on the opposite side of his bed. You begin to undress, watching yourself in the mirror as you pull your dress down your shoulders, revealing the dark red lingerie set you wore for the occasion.
The sound of his front door opening causes your breath to catch in your throat. Finding your spot near the bed, your hands find the tops of your thighs as you kneel on the floor in anticipation of his arrival; eyes cast down like he directed. His footsteps draw closer, causing the butterflies to stir awake inside your gut. The bedroom door opens, but you keep your gaze down. The tops of his shoes come into your vision. “Eyes up.”
Your head snaps up in response, eyes meeting his dark gaze. That salacious grin being the star of the show. “Hmm,” he starts, sliding his thumb across your cheek as he takes hold of your chin, “Already so obedient,” he clicks his tongue, “I like that.” The mild praise makes you grin.
His free hand slides down to fumble with his belt buckle, the sound of the metal clinking together sending shockwaves straight between your legs. You feel the leather being slung around your neck and he sinches the sides together, tightening around your throat. 
Your breath hitches.
“Open,” he says. Your tongue immediately lulled out as you open your mouth, aiming to please him. You groan as a warm stream of spit falls onto your tongue and two of his fingers press down to smear it around the surface. “So pretty like this.”
A whimper escapes you in response.
“Do you remember your safewords?” You nod. “And what are you supposed to do if you’re unable to speak?” Reaching up, you tap his thigh three times. “What about if your wrists are bound?” You snap your fingers before resting your hand against your thigh again. Gurgling sounds fall from your lips as his fingers run over the back of your tongue. “Good girl,” he pushes a little further, “That’s a good girl,” he says as his fingers make their way down your throat, brushing against your gag reflex, causing you to gag slightly. “Ooh, a little training is needed I see,” he mocks.
Your core is on fire and he’s barely touched you. A few dirty words and his fingers in your throat and you’re ready to roll over and bark like a dog, Nevermind the fact that his belt is around your neck like a leash. 
Whimpers leave you at his chastisement, making him grin. Spit rolls down your chin; your hands reach up instinctively to grip the front of his thighs. “No touching,” he reminds you, making you timidly retract them. “Do I need to restrict your hands already?” You try to shake your head in his hold to say no, causing the belt to tighten. 
That was one of the only rules he gave you. “No touching, no kissing, and you have to ask me permission to cum.”
Tears burn in the seams of your eyes as he continues his exploration of the inside of your mouth; fingers prodigy at your gag reflex again. You cough and gag but he presses on just a little further until he feels you instinctively pull your head back. Harry withdraws his fingers as he watches you cough and heave. “Don’t know how you’re gonna take my cock, sweets,” he mocks you again, “you’re already a crying mess from two fingers.”
His words make you audibly groan. You want more. You need more. “Need it, sir,” you smile up at him. 
“I know, pup,” he’s cradling your face. He taps your cheek with those same two fingers, telling you to open again. “You’ll get it,” he spits on your tongue once more, “Now, remember to breathe through your nose this time,” he says before he slides his fingers back in your mouth.
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Your ankles are secured to the posts of his headboard; wrists hooked to the leather belt around your waist, and your head hangs over the edge of his bed. Harry’s hands roam your upper body, groping your breasts and pinching your perked nipples. His cock sliding in and out of your throat at an agonizingly slow speed; savoring the feeling of your tongue gliding along the underside of his shaft. “Fuck, sweets,” he groans. A hand sliding up to lightly grip the sides of your neck, “haah, feel that?” he asks, squeezing the sides where your throat bulges, “feel me deep in your throat?”
Drool pours from the sides of your lips; the wet squelching sounds of his cock gliding in and out of your throat is like music to his ears. “This what you wanted?” he asks, pulling himself from your mouth, tapping his length on your lips. You writhe before him, trying to catch your breath. He rubs the tip of his cock over the apple of your cheek, smearing the drool and precum across the surface. “Asked you a question, pet,” he says, giving an open-palmed smack to your right breast, making you yelp.
“Y-yes, sir,” you breathe out, “T-this is what I w-wanted.” You wish you could clench your thighs together to feel some kind of friction. His condescending tone has a rush of arousal pooling between your legs.
“Yeah?” he mocks, “Wanted your throat fucked like some cheap whore?” He slides back in your mouth. A whimper escapes your lips as he reaches the back of your throat. Steadying your breathing through your nose, you focused on the task at hand; keeping your tongue flat and your cheeks hollow. You’re squeezing your fists together, creating crescent shaped indents on your palms. It’s like you can already feel him everywhere. You can’t wait to actually feel him everywhere. “Just wanted me to have my way with you?” he slides one hand down between your legs and swipes two of his fingers through your folds, “Such a dirty girl. So wet for me already,” your hips involuntarily buck at the contact with your neglected core, making him chuckle before shoving your hips back down onto the bed.
“Hold it,” he demands as he stills his hips with the tip of his cock nestled in the back of your throat. Five. Ten. The seconds tick by as he tests your breath holding ability. Fifteen. Twenty. You flex your hands before clasping them back shut; Harry keeping a close eye on them lest you need to perform a safeword act. Twenty five. Thirty. “Good,” he commends as he pulls out and you struggle to catch your breath. “Very good, Pup,” he taps your cheek with his fingertips.
Harry maneuvers himself around the bed, grabbing the spool of rope on the floor before moving to settle on his knees between your legs. He frees your left ankle before taking hold of your hips and pulling you towards him, letting your head rest on the mattress. “How’re you feeling up there?” he asks, smoothing his hands up your legs, over your hips and tummy, stopping and rubbing slow circles. 
“G-good, s-sir” you stammer out, still breathing deeply; flexing your hands to get the feeling back in them. You feel his hands grip under your knee, lifting your leg into a bend; foot flat on the mattress.
“Yeah?” he smirks, “What’s your color?” He grabs the spool of rope to his right, beginning to wrap the rope around your bent leg in a frog tie; the back of your calf is flush with the back of your thigh, forcing your leg to remain bent and open.
“Green,” rushes out before you even think about what he asked, you just want more.
Harry smiles at your response, finishing up the last bit on the knots. He runs the tips of his fingers over the rope before lifting himself on his knees to lean over you. “Good,” he smirks. Leaning forward, he braces his weight on one hand near your head. “Well just look at you,” he mocks. Your mascara is running, the lipstick you wore is smeared, and half dried patches of spit and precum litter your skin.
His other hand reaches up to lightly grip the sides of your face, turning your head from side to side in his hold as he really studies his handiwork. “Seems I’ve turned you into a little throat slut, huh?” His degrading words send shockwaves to your cunt. “But, let's see what else your holes are capable of,” He says with a firm smack to your cheek, causing your head to jerk to the left and a masochistic smile to form on your lips.  Harry slides off the bed before appearing above you again, a blindfold in hand. 
Your vision has been taken from you as well as your mobility. He has you exactly where he wants you; pliant and ready for him.
Harry settles between your legs again; teasing touches linger up your legs towards where you want him most. You feel two fingers spread your lips apart. “Hmm, such a wet little pussy. Were you feeling neglected down here while I was fucking your face?” he teases. You whimper in response, making him grin. Ghosting his fingertips over your sensitive bundle of nerves, he slides two of his fingers between your folds before dipping them inside and curving them upwards. A strangled moan falls from your lips. “Let me hear you,” he’s scissoring his fingers in and out of you, “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”
“G-god, sir. S-so good,” you whimper. “N-need more, please,” your skin begins to heat up; a thin layer of sweat forming. Chills follow; goosebumps littering the surface
“Oh, I’ll give you more,” he chuckles at you, bringing his free hand down in a firm smack on your clit, making you jolt. Reaching to his left, he picks up a wand vibrator, sets it against your clit and turns it on the lowest setting; gradually turning it higher in tandem with his fingers. He’s working you up to the peak of the mountain, steadily keeping you on your toes.
“Please, please, please, can i cum, sir?”
“No,” he’s retracting his fingers and the wand as he watches you whine and writhe before him.
“Hnng, sir, please,” you beg him. “Put it back, please,” Tears begin brimming in your eyes at the loss of stimulation.
“Silence,” he slaps down on your clit again making you yelp. “You cum when I say you can,” his tone firm, “Do you not remember that part of our conversations?” his hand comes down on the bundle again. Warm tears start dampening the blindfold held against your face. You nod your head. Smack. Again. “Words,” he prompts.
“I-I r-remember, Sir,” your voice wobbly, “I’m s-sorry,”
“I’ll bet you are. Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure it sticks in your empty little head,” another smack follows.
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He’s got you on your knees now, left leg still frog tied and the other reattached to the bedpost, your back in a full arch. Your hands are stretched above your head; wrists tied together with leftover rope. His hands are anchored to your hips as he drives his cock in and out of your cunt. “Sh-shit,” he grunts, “this pussy feels so good; sucking me in like there’s no tomorrow,” One of his hands glides down to tickle the bottom of your foot, causing you to jolt and squirm in his hold. He grins at your attempt to escape the sensations.
“Hnngh, sir,” you groan, turning your head against the sheets. “Feels. So. Fucking. Good,” each word sounding pointed with each thrust of his hips. Your body is addicted to the dopamine rush; still holding on to the feeling of every orgasm he ripped from you with the vibrator before he decided you were ready for his cock. But not before he nestled a dark red, heart shaped plug into your ass to prep for later. You feel so deliriously full with both holes being stretched. 
Harry reaches up, gathering your hair in one of his hands before tugging you up to be flush with his front, keeping up the pace of his hips.
“Know it does, pet,” he switches his hold, gripping the front of your throat with one hand as he slides the other one down between your legs to rub fast circles on your clit. “Can feel you clenching down on me like a damn vice,” His grip tightens on your throat, his fingers speed up as you turn into a crying mess from his touch..
“G-gna cum,” you stammer,  “P-please, let me cum, s-sir,” 
“Cum,” he stills his hips against your ass, but continues his ministrations against your clit causing you to convulse against him’ your abdomen contracting with each wave of pleasure.
“S’too much, sir” you cry out, “Please! Too much!” you wiggle in his grasp. He squeezes the sides of your throat a little tighter as a warning.
“You know what to say to get me to stop,” he reminds you, continuing to massage the abused bundle. 
You choke out a whine in response, your body trembling with red hot pleasure. He knew you didn’t want him to stop. You knew what words to use to get him to slow down.
“Dirty girl. You’ll take anything I give you, huh?” he chastises you, his words scratch an itch in your brain and send you into a second orgasm. He continues to pull delicious sounds from you; all the sounds he’s become obsessed with. Tossing you back down onto the bed, he braces himself on either side of your head as he begins to piston his hips into you, fucking you into the mattress and siphoning every ounce of your orgasm he can out of you. “Such a good little slut, creaming all over this cock.”
His hips begin to slow as you come down and he runs one of his hands down the expanse of your back, before pushing and pulling on the plug.
“Oh, f-fuck, sir. That feels s-so go–ood,” your voice muffled by the comforter. “W-want you in my ass, sir. Please,” you say, turning your face against the mattress so he could hear you.
“Yeah? Wanna feel me stretch that tiny ass open?” he starts to pull on the plug, your hips jerk in reaction.
“Mhm, need it.” you mewl. “Please, sir,”
“I’ll give it to you, pet, don’t worry,” he says as he slowly pulls himself out of you. Harry stands from the bed before pulling you towards him. Maneuvering you to lay on your side with your back and butt facing him as he stands behind you. He smooths one hand up your side, groping your breasts, sliding further along to grip your chin. “Open,” he commands, just like earlier. Opening your mouth, you invite two fingers inside. “Suck.” You happily oblige; wrapping your tongue around his appendages. His other hand reaches down between you to grasp the edges of the plug as he eases it out, toying with you in the process. 
You whine at the empty feeling, but you’re too focused on his fingers in your mouth to really care. Feeling his free hand swipe between your cheeks, he pushes a finger inside, eliciting a gasp from your lips. He takes the opportunity to push his fingers further into your mouth and add a second finger into your ass; slowly pumping the two fingers in and out of the tight ring of muscles. Groans fall from you at the strange intrusion; but you’re craving more.
“M-more,” you moan, voice strained from his fingers pressing on your tongue.
“Didn’t anyone teach you not to speak with your mouth full?” He sneers at you, retracting his fingers from your mouth before colliding his fingertips with your cheek.
You smile.
“S-sorry, sir. Feels s–so good. N-need more,” you’re pushing your hips back against the thrust of his fingers.
“Are you a little anal whore now too?” He chastises, but adds a third finger anyways, stretching you as best he can. 
“Mhm,” you whine. “Want your cock. Please, sir.” 
“Yeah, know you do,” he says as he withdraws his fingers slowly. He spits in his hand and wraps his fingers around the head of his cock, smearing the spit over the tip. He aligns himself with your tighter hole before beginning the tight press inside. “Just breathe,”
“Ngh, fuck,” you groan as he slowly inches inside. “Sh–shit,” your body tenses at the intrusion. It hurts so good. The stretch. The fill. Your head is spinning. More. More. More! 
“Mm, such a tight ass. Pulling me in so good,” he continues his shallow thrusts, easing his way inside until he’s fully sheathed. “T-there, we go.”
You’d never been comfortable enough to go beyond a plug in your ass with previous partners. Perhaps knowing you won’t see Harry after is what made you so feral for it this time around. You can’t describe the level of fullness you feel right now. His hands are gripped on your hip, thumbs digging into the supple flesh as he pulls you back to meet each thrust of his hips.
“S-sir,” you whisper out to him, your voice gone hoarse from screaming out in pleasure.
“What, pet?” he squeezes your hip, “you need something?”
“C-can you touch m-me, please?”
“This still isn’t enough for you? Such a greedy girl,” he brings his hand firmly down on your ass. Bringing his hand back, he lifts your leg from behind, tucking two fingers into your cunt; curling them to prod at that spot. 
“Oh, f–uck y-es, right– right there, sir,” your sobs of pleasure are going straight to his cock. “Pl-please, please don’t stop.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says with a smug grin etched onto his lips. “You want more?”
“Y-yes, please! Please, sir, more!” You aren’t sure what more he could give you but you’ll take whatever it is. You feel his fingers leave your cunt and his hips come to a halt against your ass. The sound of the wand vibrator coming to life fills your ears. He presses it against your sensitive clit, then tucks the end of the wand under the rope around your leg; keeping it firmly in place. You cry at the sensation. His fingers enter your pussy again, eliciting an animalistic like moan from your throat. “Oh–hngh–oh my god, sir, holy fuck.”
“That’s it,” he smacks down on your hip with his free hand, “Such a dirty little whore, just wants all of her holes filled like the girls she writes about in her dirty books.”
Your whimpers fill the air along with the sounds of sticky, squelching flesh and Harry’s grunts. You’ve never felt so full and empty at the same time in your life. The only thing you’re able to focus on is how good he’s making you feel. He’s kept true to his word; this was all about you and what you wanted. Every fantasy you told him over the week you met up with him at his book store, he brought to life. All of your senses are on fire, but all you can think about is how badly you want to cum.
“Sir, g’na cum! Please let me cum!” you scream. His fingers continue their assault on your g-spot, as he reaches down with his free hand to switch the vibrator to its highest setting before taking a firm grip on your throat and squeezing; sending you over the peak.
“Cum for me,” he demands, pulling the most intense orgasm you’ve ever felt in your life from you. A wet feeling forms between your legs and you hear Harry groan behind you. “Ohh, there’s a good girl. C’mon and keep squirting all over me, sweets,” his praises go straight between your legs as more moans and pleas escape from your throat. His fingers work overtime in your pussy; pulling every ounce of your arousal from you. The incessant buzzing of the wand on your clit puts stars in your vision and the feeling of his cock pounding in and out of your ass is the cherry on top. A second wave rushes over your senses, your body convulsing against Harry’s. “There she is,” he coos, “such a good, dirty girl.”
Harry eases his fingers from your core, and switches the wand off before untangling it from the rope and tosses it to the side. He grips your hip again with both hands as he pistons himself in and out of you, finally chasing his own orgasm. “Sh–shit, pet. Gonna cum. Where do you want it?” he pants out, digging his thumbs into the plush of your ass cheek.
“Pl–please cum in my ass, sir. Want it so bad,” you whine out, “Need it, please sir!”
“Calm down, gonna give you what you want, sweets.” His hips begin to stutter, grunts and groans fall from his lips along with cries of your name. He pushes in as far as he can as he empties himself into you–”Fuck, just like that, pet. S-so good”–before retracting his hips and pressing in again; fucking his release back into you. 
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“So, was that everything you wanted?” Harry asked as he unties the knots that were keeping your leg bent. You’re lying flat on the mattress, a warm washcloth in your hand as you wipe your face.
“Mhm, and then some,” you smile at him.
“Yeah? Happy to be of service,” he chuckles, beginning to help stretch and massage the muscles in your leg. You wince at the feeling of his fingers kneading the more tender areas. His calloused hands rub and dig the knots left behind. “I’ll take that,” he says, holding his hand out for the washcloth. He rubs it over your sensitive areas, not pressing too hard; really taking his time cleaning up his mess. “I’m going to run you a bath, and make you something to eat,” he stands from the bed, tossing the washcloth into the hamper before disappearing into the bathroom. 
Your thoughts begin to take you hostage as he fiddles around in the bathroom. You’d just let basically a total stranger do unspeakable acts to you, and now you’re about to take a bath in his tub. He’s being sweet to you now, making sure you’re comfortable. But that doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t want to see you after today. 
Upon his return, he catches himself smiling at your naked form laying across his bed. Clearing his throat, he strides over to you and extends his hand. “Upsie daisy, sweets,” he chuckles at the pained look on your face after you take his hand and stand at full height. “How do those legs feel?” he teases.
“Shut up,” you stick your tongue out at him, “I just went through a lot,” you laugh with him.
“Indeed you did,” he smiles sweetly at you. A completely different kind of smile than he’d ever given you before. When he looked at you at the bookstore, it was like a hunter eyeing his prey. Now he’s looking at you as if you’re the reason the sun rises and sets every day. You’re trying really hard not to think too hard into it. 
“He’s just being nice after figuratively beating the shit out of me,” you think to yourself. 
“Are you going to get in with me?” you ask once you reach the edge of the tub. Your big doe eyes looking up at him so sweetly as the words leave your lips. He’d never done something like that before. He doesn’t do the sweet stuff. But with the way you’re looking at him now, how could he say no?
“D-do you want me to?” he asks quietly. 
You nod softly in response, “If I only get one night with you, I’d like to make the most of it,” you turn to step into the tub.
Harry’s heart pangs in his chest. He nods slowly and swallows the lump in his throat. Leaning forward, you allow him enough room to slip in behind you before you lean back against his chest. His arms warily make their way around your body as he pulls you back as close to him as possible. 
“Did you enjoy yourself?” leaves you before you can even think about it.
“You’re asking if I had a good time making you bend and break at my will? Yeah I think I did,” he says, making you laugh. 
“Hey, I just wanted to make sure,” you say tilting your head to the side to look up at him. “I had a great time by the way.” you chuckle before turning back around.
“I’m glad. You did a great job,” He picks up the fresh washcloth he’s gotten for you, and dunks it in the water. “May I?” he asks, gesturing towards you.
“Sure,” you whisper, your cheeks turning a soft pink at the praise. He rubs the washcloth over the expanse of your chest and tummy; up your arms and down your legs, really taking his time helping you feel relaxed. “Thank you, Harry. For today.” you feel yourself lean into his hold.
“My pleasure, Y/N," he smiles against your temple.
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“You sure you have everything?” Harry asks as he helps you put your jacket on, pulling your hair from underneath for you.
“I had everything the last three times you asked,” you giggle at him, the sound is like music to his ears. He’d do anything to hear it for just a little bit longer. He said he could do just one night. He swore he could. But why does the thought of you walking out his door make him feel like his chest is going to cave in?
“Just want to be sure,” He smiles that soft smile at you again, making your cheeks heat up. 
How dare he.
“Please, stop looking at me like that,” you whisper, unable to hide your discomfort anymore.
“How am I looking at you?” his voice quiet and sad.
“L-Like you actually care about me.” tears collect in your waterline, “You said so yourself, this was a one time thing. So, please, just stop looking at me like that. It’s very confusing.” The words poured out of you before you could stop them. He just stares at you with sad eyes. “T-Thank you again, Harry. I really appreciate your help.” You say, your voice shaking as you avoid eye contact. He’s studying your face; The hurt etched across your features. The same hurt he felt in his chest, but refused to show. “Good luck with your store,” you say as you pull the door shut behind you, leaving him in the silence of his empty apartment.
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c/n: oh my what a ride, right? this is not the last of our brooding pair. you'll see the ending of their story soon!
please like &/or reblog if you enjoyed!
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torpublishinggroup · 8 days
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This advertisement is for Can’t Spell Treason Without Tea by Rebecca Thorne, a cozy fantasy steeped in sapphic romance about one of the Queen’s private guards and a powerful mage who want to open a bookshop and live happily ever after…if only the world would let them. Cover art by Irene Huang.
WHAT IT’S ABOUT
All Reyna and Kianthe want is to open a bookshop that serves tea. Worn wooden floors, plants on every table, firelight drifting between the rafters…all complemented by love and good company. Thing is, Reyna works as one of the Queen’s private guards, and Kianthe is the most powerful mage in existence. Leaving their lives isn’t so easy.
But after an assassin takes Reyna hostage, she decides she’s thoroughly done risking her life for a self-centered queen. What follows is a cozy tale of mishaps, mysteries, and a murderous queen throwing the realm’s biggest temper tantrum.
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monzamash · 1 year
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ruin the friendship — charles leclerc
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summary – maybe you were a little more than friends but that was between you, charles and god. nobody else. and you refused to be the one to break the pact. pairing – charles leclerc x you (female reader) rating – 18+ (smut, language, sexual references, probably bad french/italian) word count – 2.5k a/n – “we passed being friends like 20 fucks ago” requested by anon. thank you! masterlist
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“Everybody get changed for dinner and we will meet downstairs at the restaurant in an hour. Le Bein?”
The group of nearly a dozen of Charles’ co-workers, employees and friends all nodded in agreement and went their separate ways in the foyer, buzzing about how beautiful the resort was. And it was truly magnificent. Extravagance fortified every wall, even the ceilings. Chandeliers dangling from the rafters above, sparkling and flaunting the huge amount of wealth that was stashed away in the Italian Alps. Eye-watering amounts of wealth.
You weren’t enamoured like the rest because simplicity was more your taste, minimalist living was the way of the future and you weren’t afraid to voice that to Charles as he walked up beside you, eyes trained on your rolling ones. His hand was dangerously hovering above your lower back, the large puffy jacket the only thing keeping his hot touch barricaded from your cool skin – he couldn’t help himself.
“It’s over the top but Ferrari is paying for all of it,” He whispered into your ear, too close for your comfort, especially around his brothers who were no doubt watching your every move – adamantly sceptical that you and Charles were just friends.
“I should report you for misuse of company funds, sir. And if anyone from work asks why I was here when we get back next week – it was a coincidence. Purely happenstance.”
“Si,” Charles drawlled, toggling between his native tongue and Italian, which always threw you off, “You coming up to my room after dinner will just be some luck too, yes?”
You could hear the smirk on his face before you let your eyes glance his way, breath tickling the hairs on the back of your neck and again, standing way too close for a pair of colleagues who, by chance, had accidentally found themselves in the same place, at the same time. That was the story and you were sticking with it. Unfortunately Charles was a horrible actor – that much was obvious since the moment he sparked up this unlikely romance with you but in his defence, his impulses were intensified after weeks of being away from you. And you felt the same.
The relationship wasn't exclusive by any stretch of the imagination in the beginning, but as time went on, you became loyal to each other. The friends with benefits label was a facade for the public and for your employment but deep down, you both knew there was more to your relationship than just sex. You knew each other so intimately and spent hours staying up ‘til dawn, sharing your deepest, darkest secrets. He made you feel safe, like you were more than just a girl who happened to work for the same company he worked for. It was easy to get swept up in the lavish lifestyle and reap the benefits that came with it but Charles saw you differently – saw life differently. And to him, you were the missing piece to his puzzle.
You were friends’ first – great friends but he was charming and by far the most attractive man you’d ever laid your two eyes on. And by some miracle, he felt the same way about you. But all of that meant your friendship had been compromised, your working relationship was hanging in the balance because if either of you caught feelings and made them public, then you’d have to report it to HR and you didn’t want to lose what you had.
Because sneaking around was kind of hot. Or really hot if you asked Charles and you didn’t want to burst his bubble. You weren’t that selfish and truth be told, you enjoyed the thrill of it. The secret glances from across a table when you were supposed to be taking notes, subtle touches whenever he complimented your suggestions in a meeting and riskiest of all, the quick fucks in his drivers’ room between qualifying blocks. That had unabashedly become a perk of your job and a scandal waiting to be blown wide open but you loved it.
“I think it might just be your lucky day, Leclerc,” You replied and looked away from the man who was seconds away from exposing your secret, calling off dinner and dragging you up to his room for dessert. But he was better than that and obviously he could control himself for a couple more hours. Surely. 
“See you soon then.”
He looked like a man tortured when you walked into the restaurant, all of your glorious curves swaying side to side, eyes on everyone but him. Since simplicity was your style, you’d gone classic – long, black satin skirt hiding the stilettos you wished you didn’t have to wear, paired with a black blazer and a white, lacy bustier top underneath. It was a fancy establishment, which meant everyone was done up to the nines, their best attire on display and you were pleasantly surprised that Charles hadn't caved to the pressure of appearances, marching to the beat of his own drum in a basic black tee. He still looked as delicious as the aperitini he’d already ordered for you, eagerly awaiting your arrival.
“For me?” You asked him politely, feigning surprise even though these were the little things he would do for you in place of physical touch.
“Of course.” He smiled, delighted that you took the seat directly across from him and not the one being offered to you by his annoying younger brother.
You are beautiful, he mouthed once everyone returned to their 'round the table small talk. You are. Charles had you blushing and fidgeting with your thin gold chain, as if it was first time he'd ever said that to you. It wasn't but it still had you squirming in your seat, grinning like a lunatic.
The 3-course dinner was sensational, and more than satisfied the hunger you’d conjured up during your long day on the slopes and Charles agreed wholeheartedly. He had also worked up quite the appetite retrieving you from the snow every time you stacked it, brushing the ice from your suit and cheeks, lingering longer than he should have. It was great fun but famishing once you all made it back to the resort.
“All my training has gone down the drain after that meal – my god.” Charles groaned and patted Andrea on the back with a mischievous smile, taunting his trainer and closest confidante. Andrea simply shook his head and muttered something to the effect of vaffanculo before disappearing into the bar with the others, sick of Charles' shit after being stuck with him in the Dolomites for the last 3 weeks.
You and Charles hung back from the group, both waiting for the other to send up the bat signal, or in your case, holding up the three-finger salute. Your first solo hang out – not a date – with Charles was watching the Hunger Games together, snuggled up with a glass of wine. Ever since, your signal to abort mission had been the sign used in that film and more recently it’d become your gesture for sex. Would you have liked it to be a little more sexy? Sure but it did the job.
“People are going to miss you, ma belle,” Charles whispered between the soft kisses he was sloppily pressing to your trembling lips, backing you against the only blank wall in the room.
“Don’t care.” You rasped, moans caught in your dry throat as you felt a pair of cold hands unzipping the long silk skirt you’d worn to dinner and gliding it down your shaky legs like it was as light as a feather.
A small gasp slipped from your lips as you caught Charles’ dark eyes again, his soft laugh fanning warmth across your face, "All I've been able to think about tonight is this..." He stammered off with a smirk before running his hands down your sides, pushing the thin blazer off your shoulders and gaining full access to the length of your neck.
You moaned quietly and brushed your dainty fingers through his soft, dark brown locks, "It's all I've wanted since we got here," You whispered and rested your head back against the wall, enjoying the feeling of his hands smoothing down your to your ass.
"You're so fucking beautiful," Charles growled against the tops of your breasts that were being pushed up by the tight bustier top, leaving you breathless and shaky under his touch. He got off on having complete control over your body, especially like this – desperate and panting for him in the darkness.
Charles dropped down to his knees and pushed his hands up under the hem of your top so he could access the waistband of your panties. You were spellbound now with your eyes closed and heart thumping in your chest, head dizzy and skin sizzling as he trailed his hands down your thighs, gliding your flimsy underwear down far enough that you could step out of them without needing to look.
"So sexy." Charles groaned at the sight of the dark red lace that had been hidden by your skirt, his hot breath now fanning over your shaky legs that were now completely bare and exposed to the cool air, even though your were burning up, "Le rouge n'a jamais été aussi beau." Red never looked so good.
His large hands gripped you thighs and roughly separated them in front of his mouth, every single little movement riling you up even more. Charles was ravenous, hungry to devour your after hours of deprivation – starved of your taste, of his name falling from your lips. He needed it, needed you to sing his praises, beg him for more and you never disappointed.
Your fingers brushed back up the side of his head as he hooked your leg over his shoulder and buried his tongue between your thighs, sending you into overdrive and taking your breath away. Your hands instantaneously gripped the tuft of brown waves on top of his head, trying to control the moans that were threatening to escape your chapped lips, his fingers doing the work of a maestro, orchestrating your body like a symphony.
"Feels so good," You whined as Charles grunted, mouth still attached to your cunt as he readjusted your leg on his strong, muscular shoulder, deepening the achingly perfect angle even further and making your already shaky legs start to tremble with pleasure.
Charles took your sensitive clit between his teeth, gently and pressed his free hand that wasn't clutching your thigh to your stomach, balancing you as best he could as you uncontrollably bucked your hips, riding his perfectly flat tongue. You placed your smaller hand over his and arched into his face, trying to alleviate the knot building in the pit of your stomach. He felt so fucking good and looked even better when you did dare open your eyes, peering down into his sinful ones.
The small smirk that appeared on Charles’ dimpled cheeks when your gaze met his was enough to send you spiralling into a whimpering mess, unable to stop the loud moan that ripped from your constricted throat – you were getting closer with every single teasing stoke he gave you, his thick fingers fucking you into a blackout and you were losing it. He muffled a laugh and didn't relent one bit as you white knuckled his wrist, attempting to hold in the noises that were so close to escaping, jaw clenched.
"I wanna hear you, bella – let me hear you," Charles panted as he glanced up and continued to taunt you, “I want to hear you moaning for me like this for the rest of my fucking life.”
Even in your orgasmic haze, you furrowed your already rutted brows at his comment, head throw back, still whimpering, “Friends don’t say that to each other, Charles.” You breathed, gliding on his unrelenting fingers, his pace slowing as he processed your words.
Charles scoffed and pulled back from your pulsing core, eyes trained on yours as he pressed a sweet kiss to your thigh, voice hoarse. “I think we passed “just friends” about 20 fucks ago, baby. You don’t have to pretend when it’s just you and me.”
It took you a second until you nodded silently, agreeing that you didn’t need to keep the act up with him. You brushed your fingers that had been knotted in his thick, beautiful hair, down the sides of his glistening face, lips raw and looking like a mirage.
“I like it when it’s just you and me.”
If you blinked, you thought he may disappear from your vision but he made sure you knew he was real, kitten licking your sensitive bud and reassuring you that he wasn’t just a figment of your imagination.
“Me too.” He whispered.
It didn’t take long for Charles to resume his toe-curling assault, sending every nerve in your system into lockdown as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. He’d put both of your feet on the ground, thighs spread as far as they go so you could ride his face, insisting that you came like that for him. The feeling of having every breath suppressed from his lungs while you let yourself go on his tongue, fingernails clawing at the skin on your thighs was worth the rush of blood to his brain. His face was beet-red, pupils blown out and he was achingly hard, scared he was going to blow in his pants like a prepubescent teen.
"Oh my fucking god, Charles," You moaned loudly as he reached up and pressed his palm firmly on your flushed chest, needing to feel your heart thumping under your skin, making him feel alive.
"I've got you."
"I'm – baby, I’m right there!" You cried out, head thrown back against the wall again as Charles eased you through your earth shattering high, panting and sweltering under his touch.
Loud moans echoed through the hotel room as he lapped up everything you had to give, holding you in place and making sure you were completely satisfied before removing his shaky fingers and pressing a couple of pecks to your reddening thighs – no doubt leaving bruises from his tight grip. You couldn’t wait to feel those small reminders of his touch in the morning. It took a good couple of seconds for your mind and body to float back down from the clouds above and god, it was a gorgeous sight when you did come to.
"You are so good at that," You breathed as Charles used your hips to drag himself up off the carpeted floor, hands still clutching your waist to also keep your knees from buckling. He knew you too well.
The sensation of his swollen lips kissing yours brought you back and without hesitation, you hooked your arms over his shoulders and deepened the kiss. His hands snaked around your lower back, bodies flush and you could finally feel how hard he was underneath his trousers.
Knowing Charles was that turned on from making you feel ethereal triggered a proud smirk to sweep across your flushed face, “Would you like some help with this, friend?” You teased, reaching down for the button on his pants, flicking it open with ease.
“It’s what friends are for, no?” He cockily replied before you clutched his stiff cock in your palm, causing him to gasp at the sensation.
“Absolutely would love your help – thank you very much,” Charles quickly added, desperate for your attention as he captured your lips in a rough kiss and nudged your body towards his messy bed.
“That’s what I thought,” You chuckled into the kiss, letting him cash in every single benefit he could imagine. All night long.
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let me know what you think!
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sykosugu · 17 hours
Text
subject to change | choso kamo
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summary: in which you are a fairly inexperienced romance author and Choso is a bookstore owner who happens to be a big fan.
wc: 12.6k
pairing: choso kamo x fem!reader
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warnings: porn w/ plot ,dom/sub dynamics at first, smut, unprotected p in v, anal, toy usage, oral (m & f receiving) light shibari, slight size kink, angst, hurt/comfort, impact play, breath play, (there's a lot, buckle up) if I missed anything pls let me know!
carlile speaks: hi again, loves! this is another story I wrote for Harry but felt the itch to change it around a bit to fit for one of our jjk daddies. choso just so happened to be my guinea pig for this one. I sincerely hope you all enjoy! this was originally two parts but I put made it just one this time around!
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“Hey, Jenny!” Your voice echoed through the phone. Your publicist had a habit of calling when you were trying to get your daily rough drafting and editing done. Currently you’re staring at a manuscript of the follow up to your latest release, still unsure what to name it. 
“Y/N, I’m glad I caught you! I had something come up for you to start the press tour for your newest release!” Jenny excitedly squeals through the phone. Her tone makes you peel the phone away from your ear for a split second. You glance over to your right to look at the book in question. “Little Freak” was your latest release. Another smutty romance novel full of things you’d never actually experienced; only dreamed about. You were experienced enough, but always craved more. But your books were a hit and people were snatching them up left and right.
“A press tour? I’ve never done anything like that.” You respond, balancing the phone between your cheek and shoulder, tapping away at your computer. 
“I know, but it’s a signing! At this local shop downtown.” She explains, “The owner says they’d love to host in exchange for the publicity.”
“A signing?” you question. Never did you think a signing would be an event you’d have. ”People want to meet me?” 
“Oh yeah, girl. Loads of people.” She chuckles. “Do you know how many people have sent you fan mail saying you gave them a sexual awakening with your books? So many people want to meet you.” Her response makes you physically laugh. 
“Wow, I'm just writing about fantasies I have.” you chuckle, “But I’m so glad people are finding themselves.” 
“But about this signing!” She continues. “It’s booked for next weekend, but I’ll be going this weekend to meet with the owner and talk about the setup. You can be there if you want or you can just leave that to me.” She continues rambling about anything and everything pertaining to the signing. Ending the call she gives you the address and you tell her you’d meet her there on saturday. 
You loathed taking public transportation, and requesting a car for a short trip seemed pointless to you. So hoofing it, it was. Weaving your way through the city sidewalk, you’d located the shop rather easily. You were shocked you’d never heard of this place before. You’d been through here many times.
“Y/N, over here!” You hear Jenny yell from the corner of the store. It was really nice. Big floor to ceiling windows. Full mahogany bookshelves lining the walls and aisles. A giant seating area with plush chairs, couches and bean bags. A coffee and tea bar near the windows. String lights hang from the exposed rafters. The aroma of the store wafting scents of natural wood, patchouli and vanilla. There’s plants everywhere. The cash register tucked in the corner with a “Owners Picks” section right in front. Cho’s Place in big red bubble letters on the wall. 
Your eyes just scan everywhere before they fall on Jenny, standing next to a man. A man with light brown eyes, dark chestnut tufts, and a smile plastered on his face.
“I can’t believe this place has been hiding here,” you state, walking towards her and the man. “Hi, I’m Y/N,” you’re holding your hand out to him. He eyes you before slipping his hand in yours and giving you a delicate shake. Your skin heats up at his touch.
“Choso. Choso Kamo. S’nice to meet you,” he claims, “I haven’t opened yet. Your signing will be my grand opening.” He states, letting your hand go. What was that?
“That explains why I’ve never seen it before. It’s beautiful in here,” you gesture all around. “It’s so cozy.” Why do you want him to touch you again?
“That was the vision when I was planning everything. When I heard your team was looking for a place to host a signing, I knew it would be perfect for a grand opening as well.” Keep talking.
“You’ve heard of me?” you ask in disbelief with your eyebrow raised. He’s looking at you as if he’s ready to eat you alive. Please do.
“I’m quite a big fan, actually.” he chuckles, “I’ve read all of your releases so far. But, we can discuss that after. Jenny, do show us what your plan is.” He says, leading you both over to the seating area.
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After your sit down meeting with Choso and Jenny, Jenny says she’s heading back to the office to send out the email to your team with the plan. Choso asked you if you’d stay to continue your conversation from earlier and go over more specifics, to which you happily obliged although you felt a tinge of nervousness once you were left alone with him.
You eye him as he prepares some tea for the both of you, getting a really good look this time. Glancing at the furrow in his eyebrows as he focuses on the task at hand. The fabric of his white dress shirt pulled taught across his shoulders as he moves around the space; the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The skin you can see is littered with black ink. The way the veins in his arms start to give you unholy thoughts about how they’d feel wrapped around your neck– 
“You’ll have to forgive my shortness earlier, I’m not used to men telling me they’re a fan of my work,” you chuckle, trying to steer your thoughts in a different direction.
“Ah, not to worry.​​​ It takes more than that to offend me,” he says, walking back to the couch you’re settled on; tea cups in hand. “But, indeed I am a huge fan,” he hands you one of the cups as he takes a seat on the other end of the couch. “I believe the first book of yours I read was Lingering Smoke,” he ponders for a moment, “Or no, it actually was Whipped & Chained,” his recall of your titles make you squirm.
“T-those are my two most popular titles,” you start to speak, praying he didn’t notice the way he made you stutter. He did. You clear your throat before continuing, “but my latest release is wiping the floor with both of those at this rate,” you say, regaining your composure. He offers you a smile. A salacious smile.
“I’m not surprised,” he says, eyeing the pink tinge on your cheeks, “I have read them all though,” he says, shifting his seating position on the couch to now fully face you, “they often give me,” his gaze boring into yours, “ideas,” he’s lifting his tea cup to his lips. You swear you feel a chill down your spine.
“Ideas?” you question, your eyes searching his. Are they darker?
“Ideas.” He affirms. “You should know though. You write about them.” He chuckles.
“I mean, I guess,” you shrug your shoulders, “I’m just writing fantasies I have,” you laugh, but he doesn’t.
“Fantasies? You mean you’ve never done those things? Felt those things?” He asks in disbelief.
You shake your head with a light laugh. “I seriously find that so hard to believe.”
“Please, my college boyfriend could never,” you chuckle, setting your tea cup on the coffee table. “I just drum up some ideas–as you so call them–and put it into a story. Nothing special.” He stares at you in disbelief again. 
“I jus–wow. I honestly expected you to be super well versed in those aspects. Pardon my assumption,” he says, holding his hands up.
“I mean, I guess it’s a pretty fair assumption, so no offense taken. Apparently I’ve given people sexual awakenings according to Jenny,” you laugh making him laugh this time. 
The awkward tension seems to dissipate with the shared laughter, but a different tension seems to linger. He seems so stone-like; like he only has one goal; and that goal is you. Truth be told, you’d happily oblige.
“Would you like to?” He asks, repositioning himself on the couch again, slightly closer to you.
“Like to?” you’re feigning ignorance. You know what he wants, but you're playing dumb.
“Experience those things.” He leans his arm over the back of the couch, taking in the obvious look of desire in your eyes.
“I mean, sure. Who wouldn’t?” You snort, looking over to him but he’s just staring at you. “Oh, you mean like, with you?” you ask slowly, still playing dumb.
He smiles that smile again, “Sure, why not?” He asks. “I’m game if you are.”
“Choso. Do you hear how crazy that sounds? We’ve known each other for half an hour.”
“So? We don’t have to see each other after. I don’t really do ‘feelings’ anyways.” he’s gesturing air quotes around feelings, his tone rather repulsed sounding. “This could be a one time thing. You get to experience some of the things you’ve written about, and I get my rocks off. A win/win situation if you ask me.” He says, gathering the tea cups and sauntering back over to the coffee station. 
“You sound so romantic, Choso,” you chuckle. Maybe this wouldn’t be a terrible idea. The last hookup you had was less than thrilling. And here you have a very attractive man offering exactly what you’ve been looking for. Regardless if it’s for one night, you’re willing to try.
“Interested?” He asks, leaning against the counter behind him.
“Sure. Why not,” You respond, mimicking his words back to him.
You make a mutual agreement to meet up and converse every day over the next week to discuss specifics, what each other's limits are—Choso all but told you he had none—and to remind you that this was all about you and what you wanted to experience. He gave you homework of coming up with what exactly you wanted. Your mind races as you think about what you’d want to experience first. There are so many options! 
He adored the look of mixed emotions on your face; the excitement, the apprehension. The enthusiasm in your voice but also the way you shied away when he asked you to list what you wanted, and how you wanted it. The way you sit on the couch in his bookstore with your legs crossed as you look down at the notebook in your lap. Ever the author; making a rough draft of these taboo acts you want this near stranger to do to you. Choso may not make it out of this alive if you keep looking at him with those eyes.
After your signing is when he’d bring your fantasies to life.
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The spare key to his apartment was burning a hole in your hand as you made your way down the hall. You stood in front of the door a moment, contemplating one last time if this was what you wanted. He reminded you before you left the bookstore that there was no pressure. He would understand if he got home and you weren’t there. But you’re certain you want this. If nothing, you’ll get more fuel for your writing.
Once inside, you set his key on the counter before making your way to his bedroom so you could prepare for his arrival. Nerves are sneaking up on you but they’re overtaken by sheer excitement once you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the wall on the opposite side of his bed. You begin to undress, watching yourself in the mirror as you pull your dress down your shoulders, revealing the dark red lingerie set you wore for the occasion.
The sound of his front door opening causes your breath to catch in your throat. Finding your spot near the bed, your hands find the tops of your thighs as you kneel on the floor in anticipation of his arrival; eyes cast down like he directed. His footsteps draw closer, causing the butterflies to stir awake inside your gut. The bedroom door opens, but you keep your gaze down. The tops of his shoes come into your vision. “Eyes up.”
Your head snaps up in response, eyes meeting his dark gaze. That salacious grin being the star of the show. “Hmm,” he starts, sliding his thumb across your cheek as he takes hold of your chin, “Already so obedient,” he clicks his tongue, “I like that.” The mild praise makes you grin.
His free hand slides down to fumble with his belt buckle, the sound of the metal clinking together sending shockwaves straight between your legs. You feel the leather being slung around your neck and he sinches the sides together, tightening around your throat. 
Your breath hitches.
“Open,” he says. Your tongue immediately lulled out as you open your mouth, aiming to please him. You groan as a warm stream of spit falls onto your tongue and two of his fingers press down to smear it around the surface. “So pretty like this.”
A whimper escapes you in response.
“Do you remember your safewords?” You nod. “And what are you supposed to do if you’re unable to speak?” Reaching up, you tap his thigh three times. “What about if your wrists are bound?” You snap your fingers before resting your hand against your thigh again. Gurgling sounds fall from your lips as his fingers run over the back of your tongue. “Good girl,” he pushes a little further, “That’s a good girl,” he says as his fingers make their way down your throat, brushing against your gag reflex, causing you to gag slightly. “Ooh, a little training is needed I see,” he mocks.
Your core is on fire and he’s barely touched you. A few dirty words and his fingers in your throat and you’re ready to roll over and bark like a dog, Nevermind the fact that his belt is around your neck like a leash. 
Whimpers leave you at his chastisement, making him grin. Spit rolls down your chin; your hands reach up instinctively to grip the front of his thighs. “No touching,” he reminds you, making you timidly retract them. “Do I need to restrict your hands already?” You try to shake your head in his hold to say no, causing the belt to tighten. 
That was one of the only rules he gave you. “No touching, no kissing, and you have to ask me permission to cum.”
Tears burn in the seams of your eyes as he continues his exploration of the inside of your mouth; fingers prodigy at your gag reflex again. You cough and gag but he presses on just a little further until he feels you instinctively pull your head back. Choso withdraws his fingers as he watches you cough and heave. “Don’t know how you’re gonna take my cock, sweets,” he mocks you again, “you’re already a crying mess from two fingers.”
His words make you audibly groan. You want more. You need more. “Need it, sir,” you smile up at him. 
“I know, pup,” he’s cradling your face. He taps your cheek with those same two fingers, telling you to open again. “You’ll get it,” he spits on your tongue once more, “Now, remember to breathe through your nose this time,” he says before he slides his fingers back in your mouth.
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Your ankles are secured to the posts of his headboard; wrists hooked to the leather belt around your waist, and your head hangs over the edge of his bed. Choso’s hands roam your upper body, groping your breasts and pinching your perked nipples. His cock sliding in and out of your throat at an agonizingly slow speed; savoring the feeling of your tongue gliding along the underside of his shaft. “Fuck, sweets,” he groans. A hand sliding up to lightly grip the sides of your neck, “haah, feel that?” he asks, squeezing the sides where your throat bulges, “feel me deep in your throat?”
Drool pours from the sides of your lips; the wet squelching sounds of his cock gliding in and out of your throat is like music to his ears. “This what you wanted?” he asks, pulling himself from your mouth, tapping his length on your lips. You writhe before him, trying to catch your breath. He rubs the tip of his cock over the apple of your cheek, smearing the drool and precum across the surface. “Asked you a question, pet,” he says, giving an open-palmed smack to your right breast, making you yelp.
“Y-yes, sir,” you breathe out, “T-this is what I w-wanted.” You wish you could clench your thighs together to feel some kind of friction. His condescending tone has a rush of arousal pooling between your legs.
“Yeah?” he mocks, “Wanted your throat fucked like some cheap whore?” He slides back in your mouth. A whimper escapes your lips as he reaches the back of your throat. Steadying your breathing through your nose, you focused on the task at hand; keeping your tongue flat and your cheeks hollow. You’re squeezing your fists together, creating crescent shaped indents on your palms. It’s like you can already feel him everywhere. You can’t wait to actually feel him everywhere. “Just wanted me to have my way with you?” he slides one hand down between your legs and swipes two of his fingers through your folds, “Such a dirty girl. So wet for me already,” your hips involuntarily buck at the contact with your neglected core, making him chuckle before shoving your hips back down onto the bed.
“Hold it,” he demands as he stills his hips with the tip of his cock nestled in the back of your throat. Five. Ten. The seconds tick by as he tests your breath holding ability. Fifteen. Twenty. You flex your hands before clasping them back shut; Choso keeping a close eye on them lest you need to perform a safeword act. Twenty five. Thirty. “Good,” he commends as he pulls out and you struggle to catch your breath. “Very good, Pup,” he taps your cheek with his fingertips.
Choso maneuvers himself around the bed, grabbing the spool of rope on the floor before moving to settle on his knees between your legs. He frees your left ankle before taking hold of your hips and pulling you towards him, letting your head rest on the mattress. “How’re you feeling up there?” he asks, smoothing his hands up your legs, over your hips and tummy, stopping and rubbing slow circles. 
“G-good, s-sir” you stammer out, still breathing deeply; flexing your hands to get the feeling back in them. You feel his hands grip under your knee, lifting your leg into a bend; foot flat on the mattress.
“Yeah?” he smirks, “What’s your color?” He grabs the spool of rope to his right, beginning to wrap the rope around your bent leg in a frog tie; the back of your calf is flush with the back of your thigh, forcing your leg to remain bent and open.
“Green,” rushes out before you even think about what he asked, you just want more.
Choso smiles at your response, finishing up the last bit on the knots. He runs the tips of his fingers over the rope before lifting himself on his knees to lean over you. “Good,” he smirks. Leaning forward, he braces his weight on one hand near your head. “Well just look at you,” he mocks. Your mascara is running, the lipstick you wore is smeared, and half dried patches of spit and precum litter your skin.
His other hand reaches up to lightly grip the sides of your face, turning your head from side to side in his hold as he really studies his handiwork. “Seems I’ve turned you into a little throat slut, huh?” His degrading words send shockwaves to your cunt. “But, let's see what else your holes are capable of,” He says with a firm smack to your cheek, causing your head to jerk to the left and a masochistic smile to form on your lips.  Choso slides off the bed before appearing above you again, a blindfold in hand. 
Your vision has been taken from you as well as your mobility. He has you exactly where he wants you; pliant and ready for him.
Choso settles between your legs again; teasing touches linger up your legs towards where you want him most. You feel two fingers spread your folds apart. “Hmm, such a wet little pussy. Were you feeling neglected down here while I was fucking your face?” he teases. You whimper in response, making him grin. Ghosting his fingertips over your sensitive bundle of nerves, he slides two of his fingers between your folds before dipping them inside and curving them upwards. A strangled moan falls from your lips. “Let me hear you,” he’s scissoring his fingers in and out of you, “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”
“G-god, sir. S-so good,” you whimper. “N-need more, please,” your skin begins to heat up; spreading across the surface. Chills follow; goosebumps littering the surface
“Oh, I’ll give you more,” he chuckles at you, bringing his free hand down in a firm smack on your clit, making you jolt. Reaching to his left, he picks up a wand vibrator, sets it against your clit and turns it on the lowest setting; gradually turning it higher in tandem with his fingers. He’s working you up to the peak of the mountain, steadily keeping you on your toes.
“Please, please, please, can i cum, sir?”
“No,” he’s retracting his fingers and the wand as he watches you whine and writhe before him.
“Hnng, sir, please,” you beg him. “Put it back, please,” Tears begin brimming in your eyes at the loss of stimulation.
“Silence,” he slaps down on your clit again making you yelp. “You cum when I say you can,” his tone firm, “Do you not remember that part of our conversations?” his hand comes down on the bundle again. Warm tears start dampening the blindfold held against your face. You nod your head. Smack. Again. “Words,” he prompts.
“I-I r-remember, Sir,” your voice wobbly, “I’m s-sorry,”
“I’ll bet you are. Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure it sticks in your empty little head,” another smack follows.
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He’s got you on your knees now, left leg still frog tied and the other reattached to the bedpost, your back in a full arch. Your hands are stretched above your head; wrists tied together with leftover rope. His hands are anchored to your hips as he drives his cock in and out of your cunt. “Sh-shit,” he grunts, “this pussy feels so good; sucking me in like there’s no tomorrow,” One of his hands glides down to tickle the bottom of your foot, causing you to jolt and squirm in his hold. He grins at your attempt to escape the sensations.
“Hnngh, sir,” you groan, turning your head against the sheets. “Feels. So. Fucking. Good,” each word sounding pointed with each thrust of his hips. Your body is addicted to the dopamine rush; still holding on to the feeling of every orgasm he ripped from you with the vibrator before he decided you were ready for his cock. But not before he nestled a dark red, heart shaped plug into your ass to prep for later. You feel so deliriously full with both holes being stretched. 
Choso reaches up, gathering your hair in one of his hands before tugging you up to be flush with his front, keeping up the pace of his hips.
“Know it does, pet,” he switches his hold, gripping the front of your throat with one hand as he slides the other one down between your legs to rub fast circles on your clit. “Can feel you clenching down on me like a damn vice,” His grip tightens on your throat, his fingers speed up as you turn into a crying mess from his touch..
“G-gna cum,” you stammer,  “P-please, let me cum, s-sir,” 
“Cum,” he stills his hips against your ass, but continues his ministrations against your clit causing you to convulse against him’ your abdomen contracting with each wave of pleasure.
“S’too much, sir” you cry out, “Please! Too much!” you wiggle in his grasp. He squeezes the sides of your throat a little tighter as a warning.
“You know what to say to get me to stop,” he reminds you, continuing to massage the abused bundle. 
You choke out a whine in response, your body trembling with red hot pleasure. He knew you didn’t want him to stop. You knew what words to use to get him to slow down.
“Dirty girl. You’ll take anything I give you, huh?” he chastises you, his words scratch an itch in your brain and send you into a second orgasm. He continues to pull delicious sounds from you; all the sounds he’s become obsessed with. Tossing you back down onto the bed, he braces himself on either side of your head as he begins to piston his hips into you, fucking you into the mattress and siphoning every ounce of your orgasm he can out of you. “Such a good little slut, creaming all over this cock.”
His hips begin to slow as you come down and he runs one of his hands down the expanse of your back, before pushing and pulling on the plug.
“Oh, f-fuck, sir. That feels s-so go–ood,” your voice muffled by the comforter. “W-want you in my ass, sir. Please,” you say, turning your face against the mattress so he could hear you.
“Yeah? Wanna feel me stretch that tiny ass open?” he starts to pull on the plug, your hips jerk in reaction.
“Mhm, need it.” you mewl. “Please, sir,”
“I’ll give it to you, pet, don’t worry,” he says as he slowly pulls himself out of you. Choso stands from the bed before pulling you towards him. Maneuvering you to lay on your side with your back and butt facing him as he stands behind you. He smooths one hand up your side, groping your breasts, sliding further along to grip your chin. “Open,” he commands, just like earlier. Opening your mouth, you invite two fingers inside. “Suck.” You happily oblige; wrapping your tongue around his appendages. His other hand reaches down between you to grasp the edges of the plug as he eases it out, toying with you in the process. 
You whine at the empty feeling, but you’re too focused on his fingers in your mouth to really care. Feeling his free hand swipe between your cheeks, he pushes a finger inside, eliciting a gasp from your lips. He takes the opportunity to push his fingers further into your mouth and add a second finger into your ass; slowly pumping the two fingers in and out of the tight ring of muscles. Groans fall from you at the strange intrusion; but you’re craving more.
“M-more,” you moan, voice strained from his fingers pressing on your tongue.
“Didn’t anyone teach you not to speak with your mouth full?” He sneers at you, retracting his fingers from your mouth before colliding his fingertips with your cheek.
You smile.
“S-sorry, sir. Feels s–so good. N-need more,” you’re pushing your hips back against the thrust of his fingers.
“Are you a little anal whore now too?” He chastises, but adds a third finger anyways, stretching you as best he can. 
“Mhm,” you whine. “Want your cock. Please, sir.” 
“Yeah, know you do,” he says as he withdraws his fingers slowly. He spits in his hand and wraps his fingers around the head of his cock, smearing the spit over the tip. He aligns himself with your tighter hole before beginning the tight press inside. “Just breathe,”
“Ngh, fuck,” you groan as he slowly inches inside. “Sh–shit,” your body tenses at the intrusion. It hurts so good. The stretch. The fill. Your head is spinning. More. More. More! 
“Mm, such a tight ass. Pulling me in so good,” he continues his shallow thrusts, easing his way inside until he’s fully sheathed. “T-there, we go.”
You’d never been comfortable enough to go beyond a plug in your ass with previous partners. Perhaps knowing you won’t see Choso after is what made you so feral for it this time around. You can’t describe the level of fullness you feel right now. His hands are gripped on your hip, thumbs digging into the supple flesh as he pulls you back to meet each thrust of his hips.
“S-sir,” you whisper out to him, your voice gone hoarse from screaming out in pleasure.
“What, pet?” he squeezes your hip, “you need something?”
“C-can you touch m-me, please?”
“This still isn’t enough for you? Such a greedy girl,” he brings his hand firmly down on your ass. Bringing his hand back, he lifts your leg from behind, tucking two fingers into your cunt; curling them to prod at that spot. 
“Oh, f–uck y-es, right– right there, sir,” your sobs of pleasure are going straight to his cock. “Pl-please, please don’t stop.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says with a smug grin etched onto his lips. “You want more?”
“Y-yes, please! Please, sir, more!” You aren’t sure what more he could give you but you’ll take whatever it is. You feel his fingers leave your cunt and his hips come to a halt against your ass. The sound of the wand vibrator coming to life fills your ears. He presses it against your sensitive clit, then tucks the end of the wand under the rope around your leg; keeping it firmly in place. You cry at the sensation. His fingers enter your pussy again, eliciting an animalistic like moan from your throat. “Oh–hngh–oh my god, sir, holy fuck.”
“That’s it,” he smacks down on your hip with his free hand, “Such a dirty little whore, just wants all of her holes filled like the girls she writes about in her dirty books.”
Your whimpers fill the air along with the sounds of sticky, squelching flesh and Choso’s grunts. You’ve never felt so full and empty at the same time in your life. The only thing you’re able to focus on is how good he’s making you feel. He’s kept true to his word; this was all about you and what you wanted. Every fantasy you told him over the week you met up with him at his book store, he brought to life. All of your senses are on fire, but all you can think about is how badly you want to cum.
“Sir, g’na cum! Please let me cum!” you scream. His fingers continue their assault on your g-spot, as he reaches down with his free hand to switch the vibrator to its highest setting before taking a firm grip on your throat and squeezing; sending you over the peak.
“Cum for me,” he demands, pulling the most intense orgasm you’ve ever felt in your life from you. A wet feeling forms between your legs and you hear Choso groan behind you. “Ohh, there’s a good girl. C’mon and keep squirting all over me, sweets,” his praises go straight between your legs as more moans and pleas escape from your throat. His fingers work overtime in your pussy; pulling every ounce of your arousal from you. The incessant buzzing of the wand on your clit puts stars in your vision and the feeling of his cock pounding in and out of your ass is the cherry on top. A second wave rushes over your senses, your body convulsing against Choso’s. “There she is,” he coos, “such a good, dirty girl.”
Choso eases his fingers from your core, and switches the wand off before untangling it from the rope and tosses it to the side. He grips your hip again with both hands as he pistons himself in and out of you, finally chasing his own orgasm. “Sh–shit, pet. Gonna cum. Where do you want it?” he pants out, digging his thumbs into the plush of your ass cheek.
“Pl–please cum in my ass, sir. Want it so bad,” you whine out, “Need it, please sir!”
“Calm down, gonna give you what you want, sweets.” His hips begin to stutter, grunts and groans fall from his lips along with cries of your name. He pushes in as far as he can as he empties himself into you–”Fuck, just like that, pet. S-so good”–before retracting his hips and pressing in again; fucking his release back into you. 
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“So, was that everything you wanted?” Choso asked as he unties the knots that were keeping your leg bent. You’re lying flat on the mattress, a warm washcloth in your hand as you wipe your face.
“Mhm, and then some,” you smile at him.
“Yeah? Happy to be of service,” he chuckles, beginning to help stretch and massage the muscles in your leg. You wince at the feeling of his fingers kneading the more tender areas. His calloused hands rub and dig the knots left behind. “I’ll take that,” he says, holding his hand out for the washcloth. He rubs it over your sensitive areas, not pressing too hard; really taking his time cleaning up his mess. “I’m going to run you a bath, and make you something to eat,” he stands from the bed, tossing the washcloth into the hamper before disappearing into the bathroom. 
Your thoughts begin to take you hostage as he fiddles around in the bathroom. You’d just let basically a total stranger do unspeakable acts to you, and now you’re about to take a bath in his tub. He’s being sweet to you now, making sure you’re comfortable. But that doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t want to see you after today. 
Upon his return, he catches himself smiling at your naked form laying across his bed. Clearing his throat, he strides over to you and extends his hand. “Upsie daisy, sweets,” he chuckles at the pained look on your face after you take his hand and stand at full height. “How do those legs feel?” he teases.
“Shut up,” you stick your tongue out at him, “I just went through a lot,” you laugh with him.
“Indeed you did,” he smiles sweetly at you. A completely different kind of smile than he’d ever given you before. When he looked at you at the bookstore, it was like a hunter eyeing his prey. Now he’s looking at you as if you’re the reason the sun rises and sets every day. You’re trying really hard not to think too hard into it. 
“He’s just being nice after figuratively beating the shit out of me,” you think to yourself. 
“Are you going to get in with me?” you ask once you reach the edge of the tub. Your big doe eyes looking up at him so sweetly as the words leave your lips. He’d never done something like that before. He doesn’t do the sweet stuff. But with the way you’re looking at him now, how could he say no?
“D-do you want me to?” he asks quietly. 
You nod softly in response, “If I only get one night with you, I’d like to make the most of it,” you turn to step into the tub.
Choso’s heart pangs in his chest. He nods slowly and swallows the lump in his throat. Leaning forward, you allow him enough room to slip in behind you before you lean back against his chest. His arms warily make their way around your body as he pulls you back as close to him as possible. 
“Did you enjoy yourself?” leaves you before you can even think about it.
“You’re asking if I had a good time making you bend and break at my will? Yeah I think I did,” he says, making you laugh. 
“Hey, I just wanted to make sure,” you say tilting your head to the side to look up at him. “I had a great time by the way.” you chuckle before turning back around.
“I’m glad. You did a great job,” He picks up the fresh washcloth he’d gotten for you, and dunks it in the water. “May I?” he asks, gesturing towards you.
“Sure,” you whisper, your cheeks turning a soft pink at the praise. He rubs the washcloth over the expanse of your chest and tummy, up your arms and down your legs, really taking his time helping you feel relaxed. “Thank you, Choso. For today.” you feel yourself lean into his hold.
“My pleasure, Y/N," he smiles against your temple.
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“You sure you have everything?” Choso asks as he helps you put your jacket on, pulling your hair from underneath for you.
“I had everything the last three times you asked,” you giggle at him, the sound is like music to his ears. He’d do anything to hear it for just a little bit longer. He said he could do just one night. He swore he could. But why does the thought of you walking out his door make him feel like his chest is going to cave in?
“Just want to be sure,” He smiles that soft smile at you again, making your cheeks heat up. 
How dare he.
“Please, stop looking at me like that,” you whisper, unable to hide your discomfort anymore.
“How am I looking at you?” his voice quiet and sad.
“L-Like you actually care about me.” tears collect in your waterline, “You said so yourself, this was a one time thing. So, please, just stop looking at me like that. It’s very confusing.” The words poured out of you before you could stop them. He just stares at you with sad eyes. “T-Thank you again, Choso. I really appreciate your help.” You say, your voice shaking as you avoid eye contact. He’s studying your face; The hurt etched across your features. The same hurt he felt in his chest, but refused to show. “Good luck with your store,” you say as you pull the door shut behind you, leaving him in the silence of his empty apartment.
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Choso did care. He cared a lot. But he knew you were angry and he let you go. It was the best option. At least that’s what he told himself. He would just live the rest of his life with this empty feeling in his chest. He’d live with the pain of constantly having to see your name when his customers would buy your books. He’d smile and continue to recommend your books to people looking for something ‘extra spicy’ as they’d put it. They’d always come back in a few days to get another one of your books.
He never did take your titles off of his Owner’s Picks shelf.
Sometimes Choso swore he could hear your giggles at the front of his store when he was helping a customer find something near the back. “Excuse me, just one second,” he’d mutter to the customer before hastily making his way up front to be met with nobody. He thought he was losing it. He knows he heard it. He wishes he’d heard it. He’d make his way back to the customer, breathing out some excuse and getting back to finding the book they were looking for.
You even haunted him in his dreams. He could feel the way your skin dipped and curved as he ran his hands over the sweat slicked skin. Feel the way your warm walls engulfed his length; sinking further and further under your spell. Hear the way you cried his honorific and begged him to let you cum; begged for more, Until the blaring of his alarm would snap him back to reality and he’d be left to take care of what dream you left behind.
It’d been six months of this constant brooding attitude he’d have whenever he thought of you. Choso hadn’t been able to sleep with anybody else. Just finding solace in fucking his fist, and wishing it was you. Oh but he tried though. A few women at the bar, or a pretty customer he thought looked like you. But they weren’t you, were they? He’d gotten drunk off of the way your body felt under his touch, and it’s like he’s been hungover ever since. Often he found himself looking at your social media, scrolling through all the pretty pictures you’d post. Pictures of your apartment, your cat, your family. Pictures with Brody? Who was Brody? Pictures with your friends. He’d take note of all the cities you’d been to since he saw you.
Oh, a new post.
You were apparently going to be about an hour away from him next week.
Interesting.
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Every city you traveled to, there were more and more people waiting to meet you. You couldn’t believe it. Flattered doesn’t even begin to describe what you felt. So many stories of how you saved people's relationships after they read your books. Their sex lives with their partners had been so boring but after they’d read your books, they’d found new inspiration to spice things up. Every time someone told you a new story you were dumbfounded. Still finding it so hard to believe that anybody even found your books interesting, let alone liked them enough to take time out of their day to come and meet you and have you sign their book.
You’d tried to move on from Choso. A few casual hook ups, and a short term boyfriend, Brody, that lasted all of two and a half months. Said boyfriend looked at you like you had two heads when you asked him to choke you during sex so you weren’t sure why you thought it would last. 
You would find yourself daydreaming; frothing at the mouth thinking of all the dirty things Choso had done to you. You’d grip the front of your sink in the morning, head hanging near your chest while you thought about Choso’s cock splitting you open; his fingertips colliding with your cheek while he called you his dirty little slut, all while Brody was in the shower, a wave of guilt washing over you for imagining these things while your boyfriend was two feet away from you. Oh, how you wished you could experience those things again. 
You were right though, you’d gotten plenty of fuel for your next book. The follow up to Little Freak was scheduled to be released at the end of the year, just in time for holiday sales. Jenny was thrilled. You thought you would be. But you just felt empty. You always felt worse when you’d snap out of it, staring at yourself in the mirror with annoyance for yourself written all over your face.
“You look sick, babe. You alright?” Brody would ask, stepping out of the shower. “You look a little flushed,” The back of his hand coming in contact with your forehead. He was super sweet after all. 
“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Just warm in here from the steam,” you’d wave him off, pressing a kiss to his lips and offering him a smile.
Brody broke it off with you last week saying he couldn't give you what you wanted. You knew that, but didn't have the heart to break it to him first. He seemed a little fragile, if you know what I mean. So you pretended to be sad until he left your apartment and then you had a laugh before making a post announcing the next city for your signing tour.
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Jenny booked you a hotel, even though the bookstore you were going to be at was only about an hour away. But riding back in the car for an hour sounded pretty awful so you didn’t put up a fight. 
The owner of this store was so excited for your event. She walked up and down the line thanking everyone for showing up, and reminded all of them of the snacks and refreshments she’d set out. She was a doll, continuously asking if you needed anything. Always giving you a smile and a “Just holler at me if you need anything, dear!”
About an hour in, a pair of eyes caught your attention. You’d know those eyes anywhere. He was about four people behind the person you were talking to. Standing there, book in hand with that sweet smile on his face. His light brown eyes bore into yours. Your breath caught in your throat, your face turned pink and your hands immediately felt clammy. The person in front of you snaps you out of your trance and you direct your attention back to them, acting as if nothing happened. 
“This book literally brought life back to my relationship. We had no idea what we were missing out on!” She exclaimed, “My husband sends his thanks as well,” she giggles out.
“I’m so glad you guys enjoyed it. Hopefully you’ll like the next one too. Thank you so much for coming!” You hand the book back to her with a smile. She thanks you and is on her way. The next few people are the same. It never got old though; hearing how your books positively impacted others. Whether they found out they liked something they never heard of, or if it gave them the courage to spice up their love lives. 
Choso studied you as you interacted with your readers. How genuinely happy you looked to be talking to these people. The smile on your face that he’d only seen in his dreams over the last six months. The crinkle you got near your eyes when you laughed. That giggle. He was addicted. He needed to hear it every day. He’d do anything. That’s why he’s standing here right now in front of you with your book in his hand. 
“Hi,” he says softly.
“Hi,” you say back to him. “What are you doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he hands the book over to you, a shit eating grin on his face.
“Cut the crap, Choso. What are you doing here?” taking the book, you scrawl your signature on the cover page.
“Can we talk?” he looks at you with pleading eyes. You glance up at him, holding the book back out to him. 
“I don’t know, Choso,” looking away, you fumble with the permanent marker between your fingers. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please, sweets. Just wanna talk,” He smiles down at you. Meeting his eyes again, your gaze hardens. There’s no way he just wants to talk. You’re not totally stupid, but you’ll humor him.
“Fine. Just to talk,” you wave your hand in the air, “Just wait in the seating area.”
He smiles at you again. “Thank you.”
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Walking into your hotel room with Choso in tow, you wonder just how stupid you are. What are you doing? Is this smart? Probably not. Do you care? Also probably not.
“What are you actually doing here, Choso,” you ask, sitting on the end of the bed to take your shoes off.
“Would you believe me if I said I wanted to see you?” his voice was quiet and smooth, nothing like it was in the bookstore earlier. He’s standing there with his hands in his pockets as he watches you.
“Not even a little bit,” you scoffed with a laugh, tossing your shoes to the side before leaning back on your hands.
“Well, it’s the truth.” His gaze remained unwavering. 
You were born at night, but not last night.
“You’re such a liar,” you laugh, “You’re going to stand there and tell me that you drove an hour just to see me?” 
“I missed you.” he breathes out. You just stare at him with widened eyes, and he stares right back. Emerald eyes, rather sunken and tired looking, just keep staring back at you.
“How dare you,” you stand from the edge of the bed, finger pointed into his chest. His eyes widen at your demeanor. “You don’t get to do that. You said this was a one time thing. You told me multiple times that it was a one time thing.�� You continue walking towards him, him taking a step back with every forward step you take. “So, what exactly do you want, Choso? You came all the way here just to tell me you missed me? When was it you who put that rule in place?” His back hits your hotel room door. “Am i just a good fuck you can’t get out of your head or what?”
“N-no, you’re,” he pauses, “you’re everything. And I’m just an idiot who can’t talk about his feelings.”
“Please, you told me yourself that you don’t do ‘feelings’. So do me a favor and tell me what it is you really want.”
“I want you,” he says softly, looking at your lips. Not even an ounce of hesitation floods his system when he reaches out with both hands to cup your face, and finally presses his lips to yours for the first time. You gasp, but kiss him back anyways; Your hands finding a soft grip on his wrists. It’s everything. The way his soft lips perfectly mold with yours. All of the built up emotions he’d been shoving down the last half a year showed themselves in that kiss. He bore his soul to you in that kiss. His tongue swipes at your lower lip, but that’s when you pull away.
“No, Choso,” you rush out, “Y-you’re too late,” you pull his hands from your face, and start to turn away when he grabs ahold of your upper arm, spinning you back towards him.
“Oh, don’t give me that shit,” he bites out, tone no longer soft. “I saw the look on your face when you noticed I was there tonight.” 
“I-I have a boyfriend,” you lie, thinking you could use Brody as an escape route. Sure, he broke up with you about a week ago but Choso doesn’t need to know that. “You’re too late, Choso.” He studies you for a moment. The tremble in your upper lip from fighting off a grin. The telling glint in your eyes. The way you won’t look him in the eye.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?” Both of his hands grip your arms as he slowly walks you backwards.
“I’m n-not lying. I have a boyfriend. His name is Brody.” You almost stumble over your own feet, but his grip on your arms keeps you standing. Ah, Chase.
“Right,” he mocks you, “and does ‘Brody’ make you tremble and break like I did?” He leans down near your ear. “Does he make you beg and cry for it like I did? Does he make you cum so hard you see stars like I did? Hm?” His warm breath tickles the skin of your throat. Choso sweeps your hair away from your neck before latching his teeth onto your pulse point, making you gasp. You feel your legs bump against the edge of the bed, your fists take hold of his sweater to keep you standing.
“Choso, I can’t,” you groan. You want to; more than anything, but you won’t give him the satisfaction. He grins against your skin, swiping his tongue over the bite mark he left behind. 
“Your body says otherwise, sweets,” he says, bringing his face to be level with yours, “Tell me to stop,” he slips a hand under your skirt, teasing his fingertips along your inner thigh. Your breath is caught in your throat. “C’mon, tell me to stop,” he plucks the hem of your underwear right near where you want him most. His lips finding your skin again; featherlight kisses being pressed up and down the column of your throat. You tilt your head back to give him more room.
“H-Choso, please,” you whine, your hands reach up to grasp the nape of his neck.
“Please what?” he whispers against your throat, biting down again, eliciting a groan from your lips. 
“P-please, t-touch me.”
“Thought you said you had a boyfriend?” He grins, tilting your chin down to look into your eyes. The hand that’s been under your skirt takes hold of the front of your panties and pulls you forward, making you lose your footing and sending you backwards onto the bed. Choso presses one knee onto the mattress, fingers still holding your panties, as he leans over you.
“T-that’s su–subject to change,”  you try to pull him down by the nape of his neck to kiss him again, but he doesn’t budge, one arm anchored near your head.
Instead, with a flick of his wrist he’s pulling your panties down your legs. Bringing them up to eye level, he smirks at the wet patch evident on the front of them.
“Is it now?” His salacious eyes look at you from above. You nod in response, making Choso chuckle. “So, are you going to admit that you were lying to me?” He tosses your panties to the side before bracing his other arm on the other side of you.
You shake your head, a mischievous smile forming on your pouty lips. You run your hands under his sweater up his torso, relishing in the warm feeling under your fingertips. He never let you touch him last time, but he wasn’t about to stop you now. He’d die a happy man after knowing what your skin felt like against his. The way your body reacted to every little touch he offered. Sure, he felt you last time, but not like this.
“You’re just going to make it worse for yourself, sweets,” Choso grins down at you.
“Maybe that’s what I want,” your hands stop their exploration and cup the sides of his face, your thumbs rubbing over his cheekbones. “I did have a boyfriend, but he wasn’t you,” you whisper.
“Such a naughty girl,” He leans down to kiss you, your hold moving up and tangling in his curls. You moan into his mouth when you feel the tips of his fingers come in contact with your cunt; he takes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, exploring every nook and cranny he could find before he pulls away, chuckling at your blown out pupils. “Did Brody take care of you like I did?”
“N-no,” a whine leaves you at the loss of contact, “He wouldn’t even choke me,” you pull him back down to your mouth, hooking your right leg around his waist to bring his weight on top of yours.
He pulls away—“Sounds like a pussy”—before kissing you once again. Lips moving in sync; your whines and whimpers being stolen from you by the greedy man above you. His fingers finally make contact with where you need him most; dipping two inside your warmth to prod at the spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back.
“Haah, you have—ff—fuck, r-right there—no idea.” Your skin already feels like it’s on fire. Your body reacts to his every touch; craving more and more at every turn. Choso would give you anything you wanted if you’d asked for it.
“Mm, you probably feel so needy right now, huh?” he chuckles, bringing his free hand up to firmly grasp your throat. The mischievous glint forming in your eyes again, his favorite smile etched onto your lips. He finally put your favorite necklace back in its rightful place. 
“Uhuh, please. Need you so bad,” His thumb begins rubbing slow circles on your clit; your teeth take hold of your bottom lip as you look at him with blown out eyes, silently begging for more. 
“Yeah?” He’s enthralled by your eagerness. The most genuine smile he’s ever been able to muster forms on his lips. You’ve successfully turned this man into mush without even trying. He’d burn the whole world down for you if it meant you’d look at him like that. “Gonna let me take care of you?” 
You nod. 
“Forever this time?” he’s searching your eyes for any ounce of hesitation. Every feeling he ever felt for you shined bright in the emerald orbs before you.
You smile. 
Big.
“Y-yes, Sir,” leaves your lips in the form of a salacious whisper.
“I can be Sir any other time, I just want to be Choso for you right now, sweets,” he retracts his hand from between your legs, bringing it to face level. His eyes never leave yours as he swipes his tongue over his fingers, licking up every ounce of your arousal; his other hand never leaving your throat, rubbing his thumb over your pulse point. Your mouth waters at the sight. He’s so dirty; and you love it. 
You nod frantically in his hold. “Cho-Choso please,” you’re not sure what you’re asking for, you just want him.
“Gonna give you what you want–what you need–baby,” he presses a chaste kiss to your lips before taking a hold of your hip with his free hand and flipping the two of you over so you were straddling his waist. Sliding his hand that’s around your throat to the nape of your neck to kiss you deeply. He sits up with you, bringing his hands down to the hem of your shirt, sliding his warm hands over the expanse of your hips, trailing up to grope your breasts; his lips still moving perfectly in sync with yours. “C-can i take this off?”
“Please,” a whine leaves your lips. Your arms raise up as he slides your shirt over your head, tossing it to the side. He eyes your chest; placing kisses all over. Reaching behind you, unclasping your bra as it finds the same fate as your shirt. His mouth latches on to your left breast, rolling his tongue over the perked bud. You throw your head back, arms draped around his neck as you grind your bare cunt into his very evident bulge; reveling in the friction against your clit.
“If you keep doing that, I’m going to lose my shit,” he growls, taking your other breast into his mouth.
“Do your worst,” you whisper into his ear, sliding your hands under his sweater, pulling it over his head to join the other pieces of clothing on the floor. You stand from his lap before he’s able to react. Slipping your fingers into the waistband of your skirt, you shimmy it down your hips and thighs, giving him a little show. He watches on with lustful eyes. 
He reaches for his belt, pulling it from the loops of his jeans. “You gonna tie me up again, Choso? Hm?” you tease him, opening the button of his jeans.
“No, baby. Wanna feel your hands all over me this time,” he tosses the belt to the side, standing from the bed, he cups the sides of your face, pulling you to him once again. Your hands still working his zipper, pushing his jeans down.
“Then allow me,” you whisper. Reaching to pull his hands from your face, dropping them to his sides. Slowly sinking to your knees, placing open mouthed kisses to his skin as you traveled south. You feel his abdomen contract at the light touch, making you smirk against his skin before swiping your tongue over the surface, making the man above you audibly whimper.
“D-don’t tease, sweets.” 
You chuckle, pulling his jeans all the way down, he kicks them to the side. Choso slides his boxers off, not wanting to waste anymore time, much to your dismay. You roll your eyes, but your attitude disappears once his cock springs up and you catch a glimpse of his reddened tip, just begging for your attention. 
“Sit,” you whisper, running your fingertips up his legs, tracing over the tiger tattoo on his thigh; placing a kiss on its nose after he sits on the edge of the bed.
“Anything you want, baby,” he reaches to cradle your face, but you dodge his reach. He looks at you quizzically.
“No touching,” rolls off your tongue. You watch his eyes darken as that famous smile forms.
“Oh, you want to play like that?” he leans back on his hands, as you nod. Your hands wrapping around the base of his cock, making him suck a breath through his teeth.
“Wanna see how long you can last without touching me,” you say before you spit onto his tip, smearing it with the precum along his length. Engulfing him in your mouth, swirling your tongue over his tip; running it up and down the prominent vein along the underside. Choso’s eyes roll into the back of his head when you pass the tip of your tongue over the tip of his cock. 
“F–Fuck, sweets, that’s s–so go–ood,” his hands fist in the comforter, just itching to grasp into your hair to guide you how he wanted you. But he was enjoying letting you have your fun. You hum after sinking him to the back of your throat; working him up and up and up. “Baby, if you don’t stop, I’m gon–” you reach up, to fondle his balls, giving them a firm squeeze. His hands shoot up; pulling you off of his cock. “Unless you want me to cum down your throat, you’d better stop now,” he warns you, letting you go. You shake your head.
“Fuck my throat, Choso,” you groan. “Gimme your cum,” your tongue lulls out as you put your mouth on him again.
“You want my help now?” he questions, swiping your hair out of your eyes. You hum an ‘mhm’ around his cock. You pull off for a second—”You already lost, so just fuck my throat already”—before sinking your mouth back onto him. A groan erupts from deep in his chest; he stands slightly, gripping underneath your chin with one hand, and cradles the back of your head with the other, “Breathe through that nose, baby,” he says before nestling your nose against his happy trail; holding you there for a few seconds before pulling back just enough to hear the slick sounds of spit leaving your lips and then diving back in. Rocking his hips back and forth; his balls slapping your chin with every thrust. Your eyes watering, mascara bleeding onto your cheeks. He pulls you off, letting you catch your breath. “Color?” he asks, leaning down by your face. 
“G-green,” you choke out, a sadistic grin forming on your lips. 
“My filthy girl,” he smiles down at you. Tapping your cheek, signaling you to open, Choso spits onto your tongue, colliding his fingertips with the surface of your cheek before sliding his cock back into your mouth. You groan at the impact on your cheek. “Still want my cum in your throat? Blink once for yes and two for no, sweets,” he grins down at you. You blink once in response. “Alright, baby” he speeds up his hips, the tip of his cock prodding at the back of your throat with every thrust. You gag, but he presses on emptying himself deep inside. Moans and cries of your name leave his lips as he squeezes every last drop into your mouth onto your tongue. You swallow and cough as he pulls himself out, catching your breath. He reaches down, pulling you up under your arms to stand with him. Swiping his hands over your hips and lower back; he pulls you to straddle his lap on the bed once again. “Such a pretty girl, looking a mess for me,” he praises, swiping a thumb across your cheek wiping some of the tears and drool away. “Missed you like this. Missed you in general,” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours, tasting himself on your tongue. 
“I missed you too,” you whisper against his lips, pressing your lips back together. He grins against your mouth.
“Couldn’t have missed me too much,” he chastises you, “How many guys did you try to look for me in?” he questions, flipping the two of you over, standing between your legs and  leaning over you. “Hm? How many guys did you try to let have what's mine?” One of his hands swipes those two fingers through your folds.
“J-just f-four,” you moan at the contact. “Promise, I missed you,” you try to pull him down to you, but he remains like a statue, staring at you from above. “Please, kiss me, Choso,” you plead with him.
“Mm, just four,” he mutters. “Gonna give me four orgasms to make it up to me?” he nods his head at you, grabbing your chin to nod your head for you; he smiles at the look of panic in your eyes. “Say, ‘Yes, Choso’ if you understand, baby,” he says, placing a kiss on your nose.
“Y-yes, Choso,” you whisper. Smiling before pulling his lips to yours. He trails his kisses down the expanse of your chest, teasing his tongue on your skin with every kiss. You’re a whimpering mess beneath his touch. Reacting to every pass of his hands over your sweat-slicked skin. Choso settles on his knees between your legs, sligning your knees over his shoulders.
“Still green?” he asks, breath fanning over your cunt. 
“Uhuh,” you whine. “So green.”
Choso dives right in, swiping his tongue over your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking, lightly crazing his teeth over the nub; making your hips jerk in response. One of his hands slides up to firmly hold your hips in place against the mattress. 
“Oh, fuck, Choso,” you gasp as a finger enters your heat, giving you that delicious curl that only he could achieve. Your fingers weave into his hair, tugging at the roots. 
“Mm, baby. Keep pulling on it,” he moans against your pussy. “Make it hurt,” he whines. Tongue fucking you as deep as he could and his nose constantly bumping up with your clit has your senses turning all the lights in the house on, plus his finger poking at your g spot has you cumming without warning. Clutching onto his curls for dear life as your body convulses under his mouth.
“Gimme all of it, baby. Soak my face,” he says, continuing his ministrations. Your clit throbs under his tongue, sending shockwaves through your body. 
“T–too much, Choso, oh god. Too much!” He slaps down on your thigh as a warning.
“Shut up, and take it for me like the good girl I know you can be f’me,” his thumb pressing on your clit, sending you into your second orgasm only a minute and a half after your first one. “Good,” he praises you. “Very good, baby.” His fingers continue working you through your trembling state; bringing you back down to earth; just for him to send you back into outer space once he deemed you ready for takeoff. “How are you feeling, sweets?” He slides your legs off of his shoulders, then standing to lean over you again.
“So fucking good, Choso,” you moan out, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. He leans into your touch laying his body weight on top of yours. One of his hands comes up to cradle your face, swiping his thumb over the apple of your cheek before kissing you hard. Tasting yourself on someone else’s tongue has never tasted so good. He moans into your mouth, swiping his cock through your folds. 
“Good,” he smiles down at you. You hike your leg up around his hip, tugging him as close to you as possible as he pushes inside. A delicious stretch that you’ve missed terribly. None of those boys you’d attempted to forget Choso with could ever compare to this here and now. He swallows the moans you let escape; sliding his other hand down to grip the sides of your throat, making you whimper. “Take it,” he growls, “Take it all.” 
“Hgnh, Choso. It–it’s–” your moans take over before you’re able to finish your sentence. But Choso knew.
“Know it is, baby. But you love it.” He grins, covering your mouth with his to pull your tongue into his mouth. Stilling his hips once he’s at full hilt, surveying your body's responses to the stretch. Pulling your other leg up over his hip, you silently beg him to move. Choso begins rocking his hips back and forth, stealing every one of your whimpers and cries of pleasure. Your nails leaving scratches along his back. Choso reaches one arm under your lower back, lifting your hips slightly, getting a different angle. Your head tilts back, he takes the opportunity to attach his teeth to your throat, eliciting a deep groan from you. 
But he’s not satisfied yet. He stands, still inside you; grabbing ahold of behind both of your knees and pressing them to your chest, he pistons himself into your cunt; turning you into a whimpering mess. “Fuck, sweets, this pussy fe–eels so good.” He groans, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. The angle making your eyes cross; lulling your tongue out he offers you a wad of spit, adding two fingers. “Suck,” and you do. Taking them into your mouth; swirling your tongue around. His other hand sliding down to rub fast circles on your clit, making you gasp. Accepting the opportunity, he pushes his fingers further into your throat making you gag. “Hm, very good, baby,” he smiles at you, retracting his fingers; offering you a slap across your cheek. You smile up at him. “Dirty girl, just wants to be manhandled. Poor thing’s been neglected, huh?” You nod. 
He speeds up his fingers, ignoring your protests of too much. He reminds you that you know what words to use if you really want him to stop. “Gonna cum, pretty?” 
“Uhuh uhuh,” you whine, “hurts, Choso.”
“Know it does, pretty. But you’ll take it f’me won’t you?” he coos at you. You nod frantically in response, your arms anchoring around his neck and pulling him to you. “Yeah you will.”
“G’na cum, Choso,” you tuck your face into his throat, peppering kisses all over the surface in attempt to ground yourself. 
“Cum all over me, pretty girl. Give it to me,” he whispers in your ear. Your body contracts against his, he anchors one hand to your hip, forcing you to remain in place and accept the assault on your bundle of nerves from his other hand.
“Cho, please, please, please,” whines leave your spit slicked lips, and he just coos you to be quiet.
“Shh, baby. Just take it f’me.” his fingers speed up just a little bit more, as do your whines. “Now, now, do I need to silence you? You were doing so good, baby,” he says, colliding his fingertips with your cheek once again, making you go quiet. You shake your head ‘No’. He takes hold of your face, covering your mouth with his hand as he looks down into your eyes. “Then give me another, right now,” he demands, stilling his hips against yours but continuing to spell his name over your bundle of nerves over and over and over again. 
“F–fuck, Choso,” your body works into overdrive as you hit the peak of the mountain again; toppling over the edge of pleasure and coming down fast, headed right for rock bottom but not before Choso swiftly pulls himself out of you, and flipping you over onto your tummy. You gasp in surprise. He enters you again from behind, you reach back to grasp his hip, attempting to push him back. 
“Ah, ah, ah. I’m not done with you yet,” he growls in your ear. Grasping both of your arms, he folds them against your lower back.
“Y-you said, f-four,” you whine into the comforter.
“Did I?” he grins above you. “Hm, guess that makes me a liar too, doesn’t it? C’mon pretty, give me number five.”
“Ch-Choso, I–I ca-can’t.”
“You can, and you will,” he states matter of factly. Pulling your arms back with each thrust of his hips to hit every good angle inside your pussy. 
Your head is spinning, every nerve of yours is on fire. Sliding his free hand down the expanse of your back, he presses his thumb into your ass, making you moan louder than you have all night. With every thrust of Choso’s hips it drives his thumb further into your ass making your eyes cross.
“G’na cum again, oh god, Choso. G’na cum!”
“Cum, baby. Give all of it to me,” your arousal comes in waves, squirting all over Choso’s abdomen and thighs. “Oh, yes, baby. There she is, such a dirty girl. C’mon, keep squirting all over this dick,” he groans. Leaning down to angle your head to smush his lips against yours. Your body is set ablaze; nobody has ever been able to set your senses on fire like this. Choso was your one in a million, and he finally saw that. He continues thrusting his hips, in and out, in and out milking every bit of your arousal from you that he can. Releasing your arms, he braces his hands near your head, biting down on your upper back as he fucks you into the mattress.
“W-where do you want my cum, baby?” He asks breathlessly, sinking his teeth back into your skin.
“I-inside. Fill me up, Choso,” you moan into the blanket beneath you, your knuckles turning white from your grip.
“Don't have to tell me twice,” he grunts, “G’na fill this pussy up with my babies. Make you all swollen for me. Then those boys will know who you belong to. You want that?” 
“F-Fuck, yes, Choso. Make me yours,” you cry out, fisting the comforter in your hands. He stills against you; filling you to the brim. “S-shit, Choso. So good, baby. So good.”
“Shit, pretty—you’re so good. Best I ever had, swear to god. Such a good girl,” he moans against your skin. “Perfect f’me.”
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The months of brooding just kept him away from what was his; you. Everything about you. The smile he fell in love with at first sight, but refused to admit it. The sounds of your laughter filling the air. The gleam in your eyes when you got particularly excited about something, especially if it was considered taboo. You were his dirty girl.
He was leaning against the counter as you two discussed everything. The one question you’d asked him that he didn’t really want to answer at the time. “Do you believe in love?” His response, “I’d like to, but it’s not for me,” and it broke your heart. He didn’t think he was deserving. He just wanted to run his business, and move on. He ignored every pang in his chest when he thought about you. But looking at you here and now, his arms wrapped around you as you stood in your hotel room shower, his heart has never felt more full.
“I think I have to change my answer to one of your previous questions.” He says, running his hands over your water slicked skin, rubbing circles on your hips with his thumbs.
“Mm, which one would that be?” You ask, turning your head to look up at him, cheek pressed against his chest, your fingers tangled in his wet curls.
“If I believe in love.”
“And?” You question, a sly smile forming on your lips.
“If I get to experience it with you, then I absolutely believe in love,” he leans down to softly kiss your lips, pulling you as close to him as possible. “But you were right about one thing,” he whispers as he pulls away for a split second, taking in the gigantic smile on your face. Your eyes searching for any sense of deception. 
There is none.
“What’s that?” you ask, bringing a hand down to cup his face; you run your thumb across his bottom lip.
“I didn’t do feelings. Not until you,” and he’s kissing you again.
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heart divider: @benkeibear
188 notes · View notes
sparkle-fiend · 1 year
Text
Steve loves Valentine’s Day.
It’s a holiday celebrating love and romance; the whole point is to shower someone with affection (and hopefully get laid at the end of the night). What’s not to like about that?
With girls, Valentine’s was easy. Big box of chocolates, a dozen red roses, dinner at a fancy restaurant (and maybe a little jewelry or something - depending on how much he likes her). A sweet card, for sure.
Now that he’s dating Eddie, Valentine’s Day presents more of a… challenge. 
“Ugh, what am I gonna do Rob? We walked through the greeting card aisle at Melvald’s and he pretended to puke. He doesn’t want flowers or chocolate or anything.”
He knows he’s whining. He’s slumped dramatically in the single office chair in the Family Video breakroom, spinning slowly (like a pathetic little rotisserie chicken, according to Robin). He’s probably got about five more minutes before Robin snaps.
“Why do you have to do anything? You know Valentine’s Day isn’t even a real holiday – it’s just an excuse to get people to spend money on crap they don’t need…”
“Oh my god, stop! You sound just like Eddie. Valentine's isn't about spending money, it's about... showing people that you love them. Making them feel happy and appreciated and special. It’s about celebrating love.”
Robin tilts her head and her face goes a little soft, the way it does when he says something she wasn't expecting (but in a good way, not like when he says something so dumb that her body collapses and she says he's obliterated her will to live). 
"That’s actually surprisingly sweet Steve. Okay….” she sighs and looks up at the ceiling as she thinks. “Maybe... you could try making something? He liked those cookies you baked for movie night." 
“Those cookies were terrible.” Practically inedible. Eddie was the only person that ate more than one. (Which was either a true declaration of love in and of itself, or proof that Eddie will eat literally anything when he's stoned.) 
"I don't know, Eddie is pretty easy to please. You could give him like... a cool rock, and he would probably love it." 
Steve sits upright so fast he nearly overturns the chair. "Robin, you're a genius!!" 
She blinks at him. "Clearly. But also, why exactly?" 
Eddie is like a crow. He's forever picking up little odds and ends - cool rocks, stickers, shiny bits of paper. At Christmas, he collected the bows off of everyone's presents. Sometimes, he incorporates the stuff he finds into little props and models for his D&D games, but other times he just keeps it. He's got a whole drawer devoted to his little 'hoard', as he calls it. 
Steve explains all this to Robin, who just shakes her head in bemusement. "He is so weird," she says fondly. 
"Yeah," Steve agrees. He would have recoiled from that oddity in high school - would have been worried what other people would think. Scared they would judge him for associating with someone like that. 
He doesn’t give a shit, these days. He sees the way Eddie lights up with happiness at the smallest things, so full of excitement and passion, and it just makes him smile. He feels grateful that he gets to bask in that reflected joy, like a flower soaking up the sun.
Valentines is two weeks away, which gives Steve plenty of time to collect a bounty of little treasures. He hits the pawn shop, the thrift store - he even drives out to the weird antique shop about an hour out of town, which looks like a normal house on the outside and is crammed to the rafters with knick-knacks and bric-a-brac when you walk inside. 
He also trawls the quarry, the lake, and the woods behind his house. It's tough, because usually Eddie's little treasures just look like trash to Steve. He's not a very creative person himself, but he tries hard to see the world the way his boyfriend would. 
If that means Steve finds himself debating for over half an hour on which rock is more appealing, well – it will all be worth it in the end.
———
Steve stays over at Eddie's, the night before Valentines. (At this point, he spends more time at the Munson's house than he does at his own.) 
He wakes up early, slipping out of bed with slow, careful movements. As usual, Eddie rolls over with a faint grumble, bundling himself into a burrito of blankets to compensate for the void of warmth left by Steve's absence. 
He moves down the hall, avoiding each creaky board like it's a booby trap in the Temple of Doom, until he reaches the kitchen - which is where Steve breaks routine. He sneaks out the back door and races across the driveway in his boxers, hopping and cursing as the frigid gravel stings his bare feet. 
His carefully cultivated stash of gifts is in the glove compartment of the BMW. He already has a plan for which one will be first, so he grabs it and closes the door (slowly, slowly - the sound of Steve moving around the house is familiar, but a car door slamming in the driveway at this time of morning would wake Eddie for sure). 
The first gift is a blue jay feather he found in the woods, perfect and clean with vivid blue and black stripes. He tucks it carefully under the edge of the ash tray that sits on the porch railing, before slipping back inside to start breakfast.
Thirty minutes later Eddie appears, drawn by the warm smell of coffee and the sound of bacon popping in the pan. 
He drapes himself over Steve's back and murmurs, "G'mornin," sleepily into the shell of his ear, the way he does every morning after Steve spends the night. This time, Steve balances his spatula on the edge of the pan and turns so that he can wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. 
He presses a cheerful kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth and says, "Happy Valentine’s Day." 
Eddie groans dramatically and throws his head back, the rest of his bodyweight following. If Steve didn't have a firm grip around his waist, he would have toppled over backward; the move turns into an awkward backbend instead. 
"Stevie please, it's too early for that crap. Wait until I've had my coffee at least." 
Steve grins. He releases his hold just long enough for Eddie to yelp and scrabble for balance before catching him and pulling him close again. 
"Jesus Christ," Eddie gasps. 
"Careful," Steve says with a smug grin, laughing when Eddie shoves him in the chest and pulls away.
They eat breakfast together, and then Steve follows Eddie outside for his morning cigarette. 
"Holy shit, look at this!" Eddie turns to Steve with the blue jay feather pinched between his fingers, grinning with delight. He hasn't brushed his hair yet and he's got a smear of bacon grease on his cheek, but he's so beautiful in that moment - so full of joy it shines out of him, like a lighthouse.
Just because he found a feather. Steve smiles back, helplessly besotted. "Pretty cool." 
Eddie twirls the feather between his fingers before tucking it behind his ear. “That’s a sign that today is gonna be a good day.”
Steve presses his mouth to the edge of his coffee cup to hide his expression. “Yeah, I think so too.”
———
Eddie rolls into the Family Video parking lot around 2 in the afternoon to visit before his band practice. He strolls inside and leans against the counter, plonking a silver wrapped Hershey kiss down in front of Steve. 
“Kiss for a kiss?” he says, with a smarmy grin. Steve rolls his eyes, but he checks to make sure they’re alone in the store before swooping forward for a quick peck on the lips.
“I got you something too,” he says.
“Oh?” Eddie raises one eyebrow, managing to look both curious and skeptical. “Please tell me it’s not a cheesy greeting card.”
Steve flips him the bird before reaching into his pocket. He pulls the keychain out and lets it dangle from one finger in front of Eddie’s face.
His boyfriend’s immediate reaction is to wrinkle his nose in disgust. The keychain is a garish red plastic heart, definitely the antithesis of Eddie’s usual metalhead vibe.
But it’s also sparkly. 
Steve’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk as Eddie takes the keychain from him, reluctantly admiring the way light sparks off the flakes of holographic glitter embedded in the plastic. The cheap little thing shimmers like a ruby in the afternoon sun.
“Some kid dropped it. They never came back, so it’s yours if you want it.” (That’s technically true, although Steve has been holding on to it for nearly a month now, waiting for today.)
“Oh, well then.” Eddie stuffs the keychain into his pocket. “Finders keepers, losers weepers!” He sticks his tongue out, eyes wide and exaggerated – then leans across the counter and licks Steve’s nose.
“Gross!” Steve sputters with laughter. He scrubs at his face and looks up just in time to see Eddie wave jauntily on his way out the door, a second Hershey kiss left sitting on the counter in his wake.
———
After Steve's shift is over, he runs home for a quick shower and a change of clothes before meeting Eddie at the diner. 
He did his best to talk his boyfriend into going on a proper date, but the most he could get Eddie to agree to was milkshakes and a movie (my choice Stevie, not some lame romance).
Steve walks into the diner and spots Eddie at the back booth. He saunters over and sets the third present onto the sticky Formica table with a click. It's a small golden gear, nearly paper-thin. 
"Check it out. Found this in the parking lot." 
(That's a lie. Steve carefully picked apart a broken old watch from the thrift shop in order to extract a handful of the little gears.)
"Hey, cool! I bet I could use this in the model I'm working on." Eddie pulls the pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and drops the gear inside for safe keeping. 
"What's the model for?" Steve asks.
Eddie launches into an animated explanation of the character he's creating for a new Hellfire campaign - a sun-worshiping priest that intends to trick the party into becoming a ritual sacrifice. 
"... and that gear thing would look pretty good on the top of his staff." 
Steve doesn't understand much of what Eddie's saying, but he loves the way his boyfriend talks with his whole body, moving his hands and shoulders and head along with the words. He rests his chin in his hand and lets Eddie ramble until the milkshakes arrive, smiling like a dope the whole time.
Eddie has no concept of time, so Steve is in charge of making sure they finish their milkshakes and leave the diner in time to make it to the movie. As Eddie slides into the passenger seat of the BMW, he says, “Hey – you think we have enough time to stop by the Circle K?”
Steve turns in his seat as he reverses out of the parking lot. "What do you need at the Circle K?" 
"Snacks! You can't go to a movie without provisions Stevie! And don't say we can buy some at the concessions stand, because the prices they charge are ridiculous."
“Well if we stop now, we’ll be late – but I’ve got some Milk Duds and trail mix…” Steve doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. Eddie pops open the glove compartment in his search for snacks, revealing Steve’s little stash of gifts. 
Eddie frowns in confusion. “What the hell?” He rifles through the pile as Steve groans.
“Shit. You weren’t supposed to see those yet.”
“What is all this?” Eddie picks up a ring, turning it over in his hands. It's a bulky silver biker ring, like the ones Eddie wears every day - only this one is shaped like a bat with tiny ruby eyes. Steve is particularly proud of that one, discovered in a box of assorted rings at the pawn shop.
Steve gnaws at his lip and runs a hand through his hair, ruining all his careful styling. "I know you hate Valentines, but I wanted to do something. Just… to show you how much I love you. So instead of the cards and flowers and stuff, I tried to find little things you might actually like. For your, you know… your 'dragon hoard' or whatever you call it."
"So the keychain and the gear..."
"And the feather."
Eddie's eyebrow twitches. He stares at the contents of the glove compartment; at the water smoothed stone from the lake and the multicolored twist of ribbon, the vivid green marble and the tiny mother of pearl locket. He looks down at the ring still clutched in his hand, and blinks rapidly. 
Steve glances nervously between Eddie and the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. He's disappointed that the surprise has been ruined, but more concerned about Eddie's reaction. He'd expected the other boy to laugh or tease him, not this... whatever this is. 
Finally, Eddie clears his throat roughly and speaks. "Actually, can we just head back to my place? I've got something I wanna show you, and I don't think I can wait through the movie." 
“Uh… sure.”
Steve's brain is buzzing as he takes a left instead of a right at the intersection. He's worked himself into a bit of a panic by the time they pull into the Munson's driveway. "Eddie, I..." 
Eddie interrupts him, practically throwing himself across the center console as he drags Steve into a fierce kiss. By the time Eddie lets him go, Steve is panting. "Wha...?" 
"Wait here," Eddie says with a wild grin. He presses Steve back into the seat for emphasis. "Don't move." 
He takes the steps up the porch two at a time and fumbles with his key to get inside as Steve watches in a daze. He has no idea what's going on. 
After a few minutes, Eddie returns to the door. He's pulled on a t-shirt with a faux tuxedo printed on the front, and he's standing straight backed in the doorway with a towel over his arm, like some kind of maître d’. He waves grandly toward Steve, beckoning him toward the house. 
Steve snorts with laughter as he climbs out of the BMW. “What are you doing?” 
"This way sir," Eddie replies in a terrible attempt at a posh English accent. Steve shakes his head, thoroughly bewildered and increasingly amused. 
He walks past Eddie through the doorway and freezes in surprise.
The living room has been transformed. Eddie set up the gaming table in the middle of the room – set with a crisp white tablecloth, the Munson’s best dishes, and a vase full of red roses sitting in the center of the table, flanked by two candles. More candles twinkle softly from the coffee table, the end tables - even on top of the tv. 
"Eddie..." Steve whispers in awe. "What is this?" 
"Well, ah... I kind of jumped the gun a little. It’s supposed to be a candlelight dinner. If we'd gone to the movie, Wayne would have had time to get all the food set up. But it won’t take long, I already cooked everything. Just gotta heat it up."
Steve’s vision goes watery, smearing the candlelight into one big blur as tears fill his eyes. He blinks hard to clear them. “I thought you hated all this stuff.”
Eddie shrugs and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Well, yeah I do. But you love it. So I wanted to surprise you.”
Steve grips his boyfriend by the front of his ridiculous t-shirt and pulls him into a bone-cracking hug, before pulling back just far enough to kiss the breath from him. 
In a pause between kisses, Steve rests his forehead against Eddie’s and laughs a little breathlessly. “What made you change your mind about the movie?”
Eddie bites his lips, already swollen from kisses. Steve can’t tear his eyes away.
“I don’t know. When I saw all that stuff you collected for me…” he clears his throat, staring at Steve with wide dark eyes. “I’m… I know I’m weird. I’ve known that my whole life. I never thought I would find anyone that would tolerate me, let alone… celebrate me like that.”
He kisses Steve again, sweet and soft. “I couldn’t sit and wait for two hours after that. I had to get you home and show you how much I love you.”
“I love you too.” Steve smiles against Eddie’s mouth. “You know… I’m not really hungry yet.”
“Oh yeah?”
Steve trails his hands down Eddie’s chest, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and tugging. “Mm-hmm. I think we need to work up an appetite first.”
Eddie laughs in delight. “Sounds like a good idea. You know how much I like dessert before dinner.”
A happy Valentine’s Day indeed.
1K notes · View notes
002yb · 4 months
Note
Oh, but Talon!Dick and priest!Jason
Dick is overthinking about how he is corrupting Jason, that poor innocent and pure priest
Jason just thinks his slowburn with the hot bird man is burning too slow, he want to do more than hold hands and chaste kisses
Catholic guilt has got nothing on this man. Father Todd? The thirstiest of priests. The visual of this man sitting on the stone steps leading up to his church, all dressed in his priestly vestments while chain smoking and bouncing his heel in agitation because this wonderful fucking monstrous abomination won't fuck him is so ahhhhahaha.
Just a series where Jason is so ready to give his life over to sin and depravity for this night terror monster, but it'd seem while God might be forgiving, the devil Jason's ready to kneel for is not. The irony.
There's so much blasphemy below the cut.
(๑/////๑ " )
The tradition of lighting a candle to represent a prayer? Jason lights all of them. Call it an SOS. A beacon to father, son, holy spirit - Jason is begging.
Talon appearing from out of nowhere and snuffing candles (Jason's prayers to get down and dirty) and Jason just stares, jaw dropped and wide eyed because 1) this is God's will enacted in such a vicious way and 2) Talon hasn't got a damn clue
Poor guy just thinks he's helping reduce Jason's risk of death by fire, but also? He's saving his own eyes because it is bright
More thoughts and shenanigans:
The first time Talon sees Jason, Jason is praying. Sat in one of the pews, rosary in hand and with the diffused colors of stained glass slanting over his skin - a touch of moonlight; something soft in the night
It complements the first time Jason sees Talon - standing before the alter. Contemplating it. Trying to bathe in that same light that made Jason something holy, only Talon feels nothing. Too tainted. Too wretched.
Only where Talon hid when Jason looked up into the rafters or into the dark shadows of the church's architecture where Talon was, Jason doesn't. It's a profession thing, of course, but also? It's Jason. He sees someone hurting - he goes to them.
Which leads to a scuffle with Talon getting Jason pinned down against the alter, hand around his throat and drawing blood and he flinches because it's Jason - bathed in moonlit glass again, pure and good and Talon falters
Which Jason takes advantage of, because he might be a holy man but he's no schmuck, thanks. So he flips them off the alter and pins Talon to the floor, wild-eyed and with bared teeth. Not so much to intimidate, but because Jason renounces violence but still finds some thrill in a fight
So it's just them. Jason in his black priest robes sat smugly atop Talon, one of Gotham's more horrific legends. One foot pinning Talon's bicep, the other his wrist.
But Jason saw it in the way Talon reacted to his own violence - it wasn't intentional. It was a learned reaction, of which Jason has many; he can't judge.
That doesn't stop him from getting cheeky with it (with teasing Talon for spooking him). In that same vein, it doesn't stop him from getting a little freaky, either (inviting Talon for some wine).
That's exaggerated. Jason would probably take care of Talon, first. Which would genuinely spook Talon. Who would repeatedly come back and Jason would accommodate. Just a slow crawl, slowburn romance that reaches a head when an injured Talon comes to Jason bleeding and in need of help and yeah
And more:
Where during the will-they-won't-they stage where Jason is desperation incarnate, Jason hides out in the confessional booth to breathe because he wants Talon so damn bad and Talon just won't.
And Jason knowing it's not a matter of not wanting to, just that Talon...can't, or something along those lines.
Talon sitting in the opposite booth, only a thin partition to separate them. Him knowing that he's upset Jason because Jason's been huffing and puffing about being teased for too long and being frustrated and Talon is sheltered, but with Jason he's quick to understand the meaning of wanton - it's Jason.
Jason scoffing because Talon has nothing to ask forgiveness for, go away
But Talon stays because: 'not yet.'
Which, oh?
Then they talk about where Talon is with everything. And it's such a heartfelt, romantic and tender sentiment. Loving and reverent that even when Talon parts for the night (or as dawn approaches), Jason stays in the confessional. Head in his hands to hide how he blushes.
Because from Talon's perspective, there's no cleansing a soul like his. He's something damned, something ruined.
Misguided. He's someone who's been hurt. He's someone who's hurting.
'That's why you won't touch me?'
'It would be sacrilegious.' Because for Talon, Jason is sacred.
Vaguely related, but Talon refusing to let Jason be a lamb that bleeds for him. Jason and Talon having extensive arguments discussions about how God isn't that way, how Jesus paid that price, how with faith something something etc etc. Basically, Talon not understanding religion or faith. But also? Finding some sort of religion/faith in Jason??
This reply is lengthy, so parting notes on shenanigans and tomfoolery:
Talon flipping up Jason's priests robes out of curiosity one day and Jason startling and flustering so bad. Of course he's got pants on, but omg wtf
Jason preparing for communion. Wine? Check. Tiny breads/crackers? Che- no? Jason scrambling around because he knows they're somewhere. And that's when Talon shows up out of nowhere beside him, munching on the metaphorical body of Jesus fuuuuuuuuccc---
Similar to the above, but Talon fucking around with the vestibule/holy water. Only it's something that no one can get mad at because Talon like - brings birds to it for a bird bath or something and it's cute
Tbh forgot this was initially a post about thirsty Father Todd, whoops. Just to round it out though, something something Jason laying back on a pew and pulling Talon over him. Being crowded in that narrow space, but Jason shivering in delight as they fool around (it doesn't get far, of course lol). Jason getting all breathless because his collar is too tight and Talon stripping Jason down, just undoing the collar and robe and spanning his hand beneath it. Pffft Jason thinking he's going to get his tit fondled, but Talon's really just feeling Jason's heartbeat.
Also, were this a horror/mystery story:
Talon listening in on confessionals and carrying out kills according to how he knows Jason feels about them
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thelampisaflashlight · 5 months
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Mountain: "Dew got into a fight with Copia earlier because Copia claimed Dew did something -he didn't actually- and so he got upset, rightfully so, and, well..." Copia, playing 'Baby Come Back' on the PA system for the abbey: "DEW, PLEASE!" Dew, hissing at him from the rafters: "I KNEW YOU WERE A DICK THE MINUTE I SAW THE WORD 'COP' IN YOUR NAME! ALL COPIAS ARE BASTARD, ASSHOLE!" Mountain, smiling: "...This is better than that time Omega turned off Drag Race by accident and Terzo played the entire My Chemical Romance discography in his bedroom at full volume."
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gloomwitchwrites · 17 days
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Captain John Price x Female Reader Dark Romance
Chapter Specific Warnings: explicit sexual content, explicit language, multiple creampie, punishment, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), oral sex (female & male receiving), breeding undertones, missionary, cowgirl, face fucking, table sex, light gagging, light spanking, light biting, brief edging, praise
Word Count: 5.1k
A/N: Finale of Dangerous Pursuit (for @glitterypirateduck)
You submit to Price at the safehouse. Price finds out what Makarov is up to.
Chapter Nine
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // dangerous pursuit masterlist
Between your ribs is a drumbeat.
The drumbeat is your heart. Pounding. Pounding. Pounding.
Warm water falls upon your body, droplets rolling over skin to land on the floor where it rushes to the drain.
Price’s hands are on you. Seeking. Touching.
It is just the two of you standing under the cascading water, steam rising to the rafters to unfurl in gently dispersing clouds. Price’s hand is between your legs, those thick, calloused fingers of his pressing and teasing your clit. One finds your entrance, and it easily slips inside, revealing to Price just how goddamn needful you are.
“Fuck, love,” he groans. “Fuck.” Price elongates the vowel, drawing it out until it’s dripping from his lips.
His earlier words return, spiraling and twisting until they become tangled ribbons in your head.
Do you miss him?
Did Obolensky ever fuck you like I did?
Did he kiss you better? Taste you better?
No.
The answer is always no.
Price is the only one for you. You know this down to your marrow.
 “I will fuck you,” he groans, emphasizing his words with a light thrust of his finger. It is a promise, one that tells you exactly how this encounter will go.
Price licks his lips. Exhales. And you know what comes next.
 “But there’s a punishment to be dealt.”
There is indeed.
The chase. The mud. Price tossing you over his shoulder to bring you back to the safehouse. You have brought this on yourself. You ran from him. Ran from safety. Why? Because it’s what you do. Survival is all you know, and a small part of you insisted, and you gave in like a dog staring at unattended food on the counter.
The very idea of what Price plans on doing to you sends a gentle quiver to your thighs. Your breath shakes slightly with coiled anticipation at Price’s idea of punishment. Against your skin, and falling down around you, the water starts to cool, more lukewarm than hot.
Price’s finger thrusts again and then slips out, retreating from between your legs. The loss is immediate, and you long to reach out to draw him back. You need him. You crave him. It is an unrelenting pull that rages behind your eyes and stirs in your head.
“Give me your hand,” he says, and it’s almost a growl.
Your body snaps into action at the primal quality of his tone, presenting your hand without hesitation. The quickness in which you respond to him is almost frightening. It is an electrifying sensation that tingles throughout your limbs.
Price’s head dips, the line of his nose pressing against your temple, his hot breath a caress against your cheek. It stands in contrast to the cooling water. Reaching between your bodies, he clasps your wrist, guiding your hand to his cock. Your fingers instinctually wrap around him.
In your palm, Price is heavy, thick, throbbing. Holding him like this feels a bit powerful, as if you’re in control in this moment and not him. When your fingers fully wrap around the shaft, Price groans, his hand around your throat tightening slightly as the edges of your nails lightly graze over his skin.
Price does not remove his hold on your wrist. His grip is strong, and with that strength, Price begins to rock his hips, his length languidly moving back and forth in your encased hand. You cannot look away, and you certainly cannot let go. You don’t want to.
Your gaze is fixated on his cock and how he fucks your hand. The desire to explore and touch is adamant, and all you have is the hand at your side. It rises, and comes to rest against one muscled pectoral. Price is nothing but heat, your palm warming at the contact.
Price nuzzles closer, pressing you harder against the shower wall. But your gaze is still on Price’s cock and your hand. You are mesmerized by the languid roll of his hips, and how he uses you for his pleasure.
Did you ever get a good look at him? Not that you can recall. Now, you have a completely unobstructed view of Price’s dick, and the only urge you have is to sink onto your knees and take him into your mouth, to know what he tastes like, and how much you can make him squirm.
But you’re unable to move. He has you pinned, but you still want to play, even though this is supposed to be your punishment for fleeing like a gentle doe.
Wrist and palm flexing, you go to stroke him, but Price squeezes, halting all movement. “Don’t move,” he growls. Everything in you freezes. Becoming silent like an undisturbed pool of water. “Hold still,” he says more gently, his grip on your wrist releasing to fall against the swell of your hip.
You don’t dare move that hand, only clinging to him by the one on his chest. Fingertips curling into his muscled skin, you remain utterly unmoving, too focused on how his pace starts to increase or how Price’s breathing hitches at the end only to melt into gentle groans.
This man is rugged and gorgeous, with power behind every movement. You know this to be true. His hand around your throat could easily cut off your air supply or snap your neck. But Price is all control. He flaunts that strength and it is a sinful thing.
And it doesn’t scare you. If anything, it makes you feel safe. He’d never turn it on you, would never harm you. Price has proved that to you time and time again.
With your back pressed against the shower wall, and Price caging you in, you are the one possessed. He is claiming you for himself. Marking you as his. Deep in your core, you know he’ll have more than just your hand. By the end, the two of you will be tangled, sparking wires, completely inseparable without cutters.
Price’s hand around your throat shifts, turning your face into his. His lips find yours, and there is nothing soft about it. It is rough, completely primal, and when you open for him, his tongue dips inside for a taste.
He pulls away from your lips, the corners of his mouth turning upward into a hint of a smile. “You asked for this by running away from me.” Price’s voice is slightly hoarse. A little raspy like he’s just awoken from sleep. Price presses his forehead against yours, hips stuttering against your hand.
He’s close, coming to an end. You can feel it in the way his cock throbs, nearly pulsing with need.
“Fuck,” he mutters, hand falling away from your throat to grasp the underside of your thigh.
In one fluid movement, Price lifts your leg off the ground and wraps it around his hip. Surprised, your hand releases his cock, going for the back of his neck to hold on, thinking that he’s about to completely lift you off the floor.
Instead, Price guides your hips forward, finding purchase, the swollen head of his cock pressing to your entrance. He eases in, the intrusion already a stretch, but he does not sheath himself entirely. Your head falls back against the shower wall, exposing your throat. Price keeps himself partially inside of you. Staying there, his mouth comes down on your throat to nip and suck at your skin.
You inhale sharply, pussy clamping down around what he has given you. Your own pleasure is a seeking beast. It has you wanting to slide all the way down on him, to fill you like he did all those years ago at Thirst. But Price keeps your hips still, warding off the creature that wants to show its teeth.
With his one free hand, Price reaches between your bodies and strokes himself. Every pass of his hand pulls a little shiver from him, and the very image of Price falling apart is sweet like syrup. You savor it, and then smile as he empties himself inside you.
That is what he said he’d do after all. Give you just the tip. Fill you with his cum first before he fucks it all into you. Right now, it doesn’t feel like punishment at all. Just foreplay. Just a bit of fun.
“John,” you murmur, and the sound he makes in response goes straight to your pussy.
He lightly shakes his head, hands squeezing tighter on your hips. “We’re not fucking done, love. Far from it.”
Of course he’s not. You already know what he plans. And you are eager for all of it. You want to drown in him.
Price’s gaze roams over your face. Several emotions pass over his features but they come and go so quickly you cannot catch them all. But you know the last. Lust. It’s all over him, and you want him to take it all out on you in whatever way he wants.
Gently, Price releases your leg, bringing it to the ground. He reaches to the left, turning off the now cold water. It shuts off, and all that’s left are the droplets dripping from your hair. Price grabs you by the waist, pulling you away from the shower wall, taking three steps back.
“Get on your knees,” he commands, voice low and husky.
You drop instantly, the heat of his cum threatening to slip out. Price has one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, pumping slowly. Already, he’s back to hardness. The man has stamina, and that alone is a tease. You desire to test it out, to see how far it goes.
Price’s other hand reaches out, tracing your bottom lip in a gentle caress as if he’s assessing your mouth.
“Let me see that mouth.” You promptly part your lips and Price slides his thumb over your tongue before retreating. “Good girl.”
Price shifts forward, one hand going to the back of your head to draw you close. He runs his thumb over your cheekbone, but does not indicating that he wants your mouth on him. Instead, he inhales deeply, as if steadying himself, like he’s moments from losing control.
“Keep me inside you,” he says, and Price does not need to elaborate. You understand.
Reaching between your legs, your press three fingers to your pussy, stopping his cum from escaping. The smug smile that spreads across his face only stirs heat in your belly. You’re not running from him or pushing back like you’ve always done. You are submitting, giving in to him.
That makes him happy, and it makes you happy.
Every part of you is singing, skin tingling in all sorts of places. It is a gentle buzz just beneath and between the bone as if you are made of carnal desire and that desire flares only for Price.
Gently, Price takes your arm, sliding to your hand, bringing it to rest against his muscled thigh. He steps closer. “Hold on to me. Signal if it’s too much.”
This is punishment, but Price won’t take you past your limits. He is still thinking of you even as he only seeks his own pleasure.
Price’s hands smooth back your wet hair, only to twist the soaked strands in his fist. He tugs, pulling you up, the backs of your thighs straining slightly at the position. Drawing you closer, your tongue darts out to run along the slit, swiping up the pearly bead blooming there. Price inhales sharply, fist twisting tighter.
“Be good,” he rasps, and you have to force down the little purr that wants to crawl up your throat. “Wider.”
You comply, and then Price is sliding the head past your lips and over your tongue. He slowly gives you more until he hits the back of your throat and your gag reflex triggers. Price pulls back slightly as your lips suction around him and your nostrils flare.
“Relax,” he coos, and you do.
Price has both hands on your head. One tangled in your hair at the top, and the other grasping the back of your neck. He shifts position, and he nods, hinting at what comes next.
Price tests with a roll of his hips, and then he’s holding on, keeping your head still as he fucks your mouth like he did your hand. This too is a possession, marking you as his. Your body belongs to him, and that is perfectly fine. You’re eager for it, and for him.
He is all sharp grunts as you hold onto his thigh. Price has a salty bite to him, one that has your pussy clenching, your fingers pressing harder against your sex knowing that more will go there soon.
“This is how you learn,” he says between thrusts, each word ending on a slight burst of air. “That you’re mine.”
You want to respond, to tell Price that you’re his completely, but you can’t with his cock down your throat. Instead, you slide your hand over his thigh and between his legs, gently cupping him.
Price’s hips stutters. He hisses between his teeth, head falling back slightly in pleasure. You’re not supposed to be in control, but does he entirely care? Not really. Because when Price gazes down at you, all you see is an intensity that squeezes your chest.
Price’s hands move to the sides of your face. With every roll of his hips, he brings you down on him repeatedly. Each one threatens to illicit a gag but you breathe through your nose, keeping your throat relaxed even as your eyes begin to water.
He is using you for himself, and it’s fucking delicious.
A punishment you’ll happily take.
When you do finally gag, Price drags you off his cock. It is coated with your saliva, glossy and shiny. You cough once, and then Price is reaching down to lift you by the arms. Clinging to him, Price walks you backward until your ass hits a nearby table. With a growl, Price hauls you up by your thighs, setting you down on the smooth tabletop. His hand presses against your chest, and then you’re on your back.
Within seconds, Price is dragging you to the edge of the table, pushing your legs wide. His hand is around his cock, pumping, and then he does it all again. Just the head and his warm release filling your pussy.
He holds there a moment, chest heaving. Yours is moving just as deeply.
You haven’t gotten off, but Price has. Twice.
Slowly, he eases out, and sighs with contentment. “Look at that. See how I drip from you.” Price hands stroke up and down your inner thighs before he steps to the side.
The mirror in the bathroom alcove is right there, and your reflection is clear as day. Between your spread thighs, you watch his cum bloom there. There is a pause. A stretch of breath. Then it starts to roll out slowly.
Price allows you only a few seconds before his fingers return to your pussy, drawing up is cum to press it all back inside. “That stays.”
Blocking your view of the mirror, Price slots himself between your legs again. His fingers drop away from your pussy, and then he’s wrapping his arms under your thighs, making sure you’re on the very edge of the table.
His hardness rests against the space between your sex and your thigh. “One last lesson,” he says.
Lifting one of leg, Price rests your ankle on his shoulder. His hand curls over your shin, and then he’s leaning in, his other hand pressing your other thigh to the table.
“John,” you whimper, as the head of his cock pushes in.
The stretch is perfect. Delicious. Is this how he felt at Thirst? He probably did but you vaguely remember. You only remember how he made you feel during that solitary hour.
Rocking his hips back and forth, Price gives you a bit more each time until he’s completely home. You’re so full it’s nearly painful, but it evaporates almost instantly when Price gently rocks his hips against you.
“Oh, love,” he purrs, his gaze darkening. “Let’s make a fucking mess.”
Price retreats, and comes forward in a sharp thrust.
You cry out, one hand clawing at him while the other latches on to the edge of the table. Price is relentless, fucking you in near desperation. Droplets of water fall from his hair to land on your skin. Some rain down across his bare chest and the urge to lick them up flares within you unbidden.
All you can do is hold on, head falling back against the table as Price gives you everything he has. It is rough, nearly brutal, but fuck is it good. Price was rough with you at Thirst but this is different. He was almost reserved then. This is unleashed need.
Price’s hand on your thigh travels, moves upward only for his thumb to press against your clit. The touch is a shock, one that sends your pussy fluttering around him. Price grunts, stills, keeps toying with your clit until your thighs quiver and everything in you begins to clench down. Then it all disappears as Price pulls his thumb away and resumes thrusting.
You push up on your elbows in disbelief as Price smirks. “Think you deserve an orgasm?”
He’s teasing. Toying with you.
“Yes,” you reply sharply, chest hot with both irritation and arousal.
Price laughs, and grinds against you, pulling forth a moan you’ve never made before. His hand that was previously on your thigh now grabs the nape of your neck, pulling your upper body off the table.
He stares into your eyes when he speaks. “Promise me,” he begins. “You won’t run.”
“I promise,” you gasp, fingers slipping against the slick wood.
“You promise what?” he prompts.
You shake your head as best you can. “I won’t run.”
His brow softens, tone smoothing into something delicate and syrupy like honey. “Are you mine?”
This one is easy. “I’m yours.”
Price sighs and gently returns your body back to the table. He adjusts his grip and then he’s pumping into you, his thumb rubbing quick little circles over your clit. Everything that tightened earlier rebounds in full force, flaring white and hot and bold beneath the skin.
“Come for me,” he grunts between thrusts.
Nails dig into wood. Your back arches. Slams down into the table. Hips twitching, trying to move away from his deft fingers, your orgasm crawls to life, digging its way from out of a grave, wanting to consume. Price does not let up. His thumb works and works, swirling circles mixed with your slickness and his cum.
It is too much too quickly. You’re falling then. Fast. Unable to cling to the dangling rope. You cry out his name, and it is strained.
“That’s it,” he groans as your pussy clenches around him. “So good for me.”
Price’s own thrusts stutter out, and then he’s grinding forward. Your name on his lips is distant. You hardly hear it. Your body trembles. Aching.
“Come here.”
That is what you hear. Price’s voice coaxing you from the lust-laced fog clinging to the edges of your consciousness.
Price guides your ankle off his shoulder and brings your leg back to the table. Then he lifts you into his arms, bringing you over the queen bed that’s shoved against the wall. You cling to him, feeling heavy, like you’d fall into a void if you didn’t.
When Price gently eases you to the bed, all you feel are his hands caressing your skin. They move up and down your body. This softness is strange. Price has been plenty soft with you in the past but this is different. It’s a comfort.
You hum with pleasure, eyes closed in bliss, and Price’s low, rough rumble of a chuckle reaches your ears. You are on your back. And then you’re not.
Price turns you over onto your stomach.
Confused, you whimper in protest, reaching back for him even as you start to scoot forward, eyelids open now but heavy. Price’s hand stroke up and down the backs of your thighs before landing on your hips, drawing them up.
You are on your knees, face pressed into the bed.
Anticipation coils in your belly, and you grin against the sheets.
Gently, Price’s hands slide between your thighs and spread them. Again, Price strokes the backs of your thighs, and then his mouth is on you, placing little kisses there, moving upward. His lips brushes against the curve of your ass, and then he bites. Not hard, just takes a bit of soft skin between his teeth, sucking.
You whimper, and you’re rewarded with a sharp slap.
You twist as best you can, shooting him a look over your shoulder.
Price grins against your skin, kissing the spot he just spanked. He rises slightly, and you feel the flush roll up your neck and to your cheeks. You quickly glance away, staring down at the off-brown of the bedsheets.
It’s such a strange thing, to be wanted like this. You feel equally used and worshipped.
Price makes a sound in his throat that sounds like pleasure and you immediately forget this line of thinking. The bed sinks behind you, and then Price’s mouth is on your clit, swirling and teasing. He doesn’t seem to care that you’re full of his cum, because Price sucks and licks your clit like a man starved, like it’s all he wants in the world.
Pressing your forehead into the bed, you moan loudly, everything in you stuttering and shaking. One knee slips, your body unable to keep you aloft. But Price is right there, gripping your hips, licking your perfectly until the orgasm roils up and bursts on impact, spreading out to every limb.
Your next cry is choked. Closed off.
But Price is unsatisfied with his.
“One more,” he groans against your pussy. “For me.”
Price returns to your clit, and the orgasm you just had staggers on. Unending until Price allows it.
And he does. Eventually.
Price is rolling you onto your back, hands soft as he settles between your legs.
Gently, he takes your wrists, guiding them above your head with one hand, pinning your arms there. His head dips and your mouths meet. You taste yourself and him but you hardly care.
This is good. This is sweet.
Already, Price is aligning himself to your entrance, sliding home, filling you up perfectly. You are pinned by his pelvis and his hand. There are no formalities, just carnal need and consuming pleasure. Price’s thrusts are deliberate, his entire weight behind each forward momentum. You are fucked into the bed, thighs gripping Price’s hips in desperation.
Price’s lips keep brushing against yours but it’s not a kiss. It’s just an exchanging of breath.
“What are you?” he asks, a slight growl on the end.
“Yours,” you answer. “I’m yours.”
Price purrs with contentment, closing the distance, lips crashing into yours. He thrusts once. Twice. And then stills, hips pressed roughly against yours. He groans into your mouth, hand gently wrapping around your throat to keep you from breaking the kiss.
But you wouldn’t. Never.
“That’s it, love. Like that.”
Price’s head sinks into the pillow beneath him. His hands are on your waist, his gaze focused on the spot where your bodies meet. You are on top, riding him. Your hands are on his chest as an anchor. You rock back, fucking yourself on him. Price is unmoving except his hands. You are taking what you want.
There is a lazy smile on his lips you long to kiss, but you’re too focused on moving atop him, grinding and rocking in the way you need to. You are chasing your pleasure this time.
You moan loudly as Price’s hand slides up your stomach to between your breasts. That moan, which is lust-laced, is broken by a rapid beeping.
You and Price pause, that lazy smile of his morphing into confusing. Glancing around, you don’t locate the sound until your gaze falls on a little green flashing light.
Next to the bed is an old looking radio. At least, that’s what you think it is. It is large and bulky. It has been silent this whole time. Until now. The beeping is coming from a tiny speaker.
“Fuck,” groans Price, his hands dropping to your thighs. His head tilts in the direction of the noise.
“What it is?” you ask.
“Probably Simon,” mutters Price, sighing heavily.
“Well,” you sigh, rolling your hips. “Answer it.”
Price shoots you a knowing look. “Don’t fucking stop,” he growls. “You keep riding me no matter what. You understand?”
You nod, smiling victoriously as you lightly grind down on him.
Price squeezes your thigh and gives it a light smack. “Behave,” he says, reaching out with the other hand.
It is then that you realize it’s a communication device. The piece that Price removes it attached by a looped wire. It looks just like the comm Price has on his gear.
“Bravo Six,” he answers, releasing your thigh to grab the headset.
You press your hands against Price’s firm chest. Using it as leverage, you thrust back on him. Price glances at you, eyebrows raised. Fixing the headset between his shoulder and ear, Price grabs onto your waist.
He squeezes. A warning.
You ignore it.
“I’m listening,” growls Price into the microphone as you come up and then back down on him. You shift onto your elbows and then your forearms.
“Good,” he says, but he’s not speaking to you.
Your head dips, and then your mouth presses against Price’s chest. You graze over his skin, teasing one nipple with the tip of your tongue even as your hips lightly bounce up and down his cock. Price chokes back a groan.
“Heard,” he snaps. “I’ll be there.”
The moment the call his done, Price is tossing the headset and microphone aside.
Price’s hands return to gripping your waist, bouncing you on him as he meets you with each thrust of his hips. Your fingers dig in, and then Price is rolling you onto your back, pounding you into the bed. All you can do is cling to him, smiling against his shoulder as Price takes what he needs.
After, the two of you are tangled and sweaty, skin and against skin in the low light.
“You have to leave,” you say into the air.
“I do,” he replies softly.
You push up on your elbow to look down at him. Price’s mouth is turned down in a slight frown. He reaches up, running his thumb across your cheek.
“Is it because of—” You lick you lips and swallow down the temporary moment of pause. “Alex?”
Price’s frown deepens. “Partially,” he answers. “It’s…complicated.”
This time you frown. “You don’t want to tell me.”
“I do,” he says. “But your safety is more important.”
“I want you to talk to me. Please, John.”
Price sighs, glances away, and then glances back. “We’re closing in on Obolensky’s business. The father’s business.”
You lean back a bit. “How can I help?”
“No,” replies Price automatically. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
Price’s eyebrows rise slightly. “After everything, you want to help?”
You look away, blood-laced images coming forth. Price must know your unease because he wraps his arms around you, pulling down against his chest.
“You’re staying here. I’ll come back for you.”
“Will you?”
“Always.”
Price stands behind a smooth mahogany desk. It has real gold accents. Simple. Rich. Quiet extravagance
This is a rich man’s desk. Not new money but old. Deep pockets and deep connections.
Price’s gloved hands click away at the keyboard in front of him. The computer holds a history, and he is extracting every fucking piece.
In front of the desk are two men in perfectly tailored designer suits. They are bound. Gagged. On their knees. One is Alexandr Obolensky. The other is his father, Damir Obolensky, the patriarch of the family. He is owner of the family’s consulting company.
“Consulting” is just a fancy word to cover up what is really happening. Price truly doesn’t give a fuck about Damir or Alexandr. Not anymore. They are just a means to an end. A means to an answer.
There is anger on their faces but Price completely ignores them. Gaz and Soap stand behind the men, guns in a relaxed positioned but their fingers still hovering over the trigger. They know that these men aren’t active threats, but they could become one rather quickly.
Damir might be old, but he’s a big brute of a man. Alexandr is fucking psychotic. He loves dealing out the violence himself. Expect of course when it came to you. Then he couldn’t do it, and Price is fucking thankful for that.
Simon comes into view and Price withdraws the external drive, depositing it into the behemoth’s hands.
“Alpha and Delta teams just arrived, Captain,” says Simon in his gruff voice.
Price nods. “Send them out.”
Simon reaches up and starts speaking into his comm. The main doors to Damir’s office open, a team of tactical glad men entering. Soap and Gaz turn, nodding toward them, stepping back. Alexandr and Damir are dragged to their feet. Damir tries to fight, to throw his weight to unbalance the man gripping him, but he’s knocked in the back of the head, halting all resistance.
This entire extraction confirmed every suspicion. Makarov is working to get out of prison. Those loyal to him are shifting, moving in the dark, waiting for the perfect moment to release their leader.
Which means Price needs to make some goddamn phone calls.
But that isn’t all he found. Your name is buried in their records. On the surface, the spreadsheet appeared nothing more than a simple list of clients. But nearly everyone on the list is dead or missing. Even your name is marked as killed, which means that Alexandr lied to his family. Which means the fucker did care about you on some level.
But that information is gone. Price made it so.
Soap and Gaz follow Delta squad out of the room, Simon right on their heels, still speaking into his comm. Price comes around the desk, following the large group at a short distance.
There is a little cottage in the Scottish Highlands that has his name on it. When he returns to you, he’ll take you there first. After? He’ll go wherever you want.
But you’re his now.
And that is all Price needs.
taglist:
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Muli you're doing great, my friend!
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dancingtotuyo · 2 months
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Before | 2. feel the tide turning
A Woman Story
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Rating: Mature
Summary: consumption of alcohol, implied smut
Tags: backstory, Woman Universe, romance, Jackson Life, TLOU
Words: 1227
Series Masterlist | Woman Masterlist | Author Masterlist
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It’s an odd sight. You’re still getting used to life around people again. It’s only been a week. Alongside the group, you’ve made substantial progress on reviving Jackson. So when a couple of the guys found old booze, got a generator running, and gathered up enough weak gas they decided to turn the Tipsy Bison, an old restaurant, into Party Central. 
Lights are strung up through the rafters, your first peak at electricity in years. An old record player turns in the corner. Your worn copy of Rumours sits in the stack of vinyl records, the only thing you brought with you when you came to Jackson except for clothes and a few photographs. You haven’t heard it in years, but something in you couldn’t leave it behind. 
People dance to the music and laugh. The air burns with electricity and excitement, yet you sit there with your finger of whiskey watching from the sidelines. Your brain can’t make sense of it all. How can they be so happy? So carefree?
“Not even a party can make you smile, Doleful.” Gabe smiles brightly, taking up the stool next to you. The swelling in his eye has gone down almost completely, the scratches down his cheek nothing but flakey scabs. 
You roll your eyes slightly. “Not much to celebrate.”
“We’ve been wandering a long time. Finding a place to stay is a lot to celebrate.”
“I don’t understand it.”
“You're starting to sound like a broken record.” Gabe raises his eyebrows at you. “Gotta get that smile out of you again.”
“Sorry, I only smile once a year.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah,” You take a sip of your drink, finding yourself fighting a smile. “Come back in 51 weeks for a sighting.”
He tilts his head to the side. “I think I can pull another one out of you before then.”
“Oh really?”
“You can bet I’m gonna try.” He winks.
You bite your lip, feeling a smile threaten to break through. He’s figuring you out, much worse, you’re letting him. The human interactions feel nice and warm, thawing out your heart.
“How long has it been since you danced?”
“Take a wild guess, Romeo.”
“Romeo? Does that make you my Juliet?”
You can feel the heat blooming in your cheeks “And what would give you that impression?” 
He shrugs, grinning at you. “You’re the one who called me Romeo.”
You finish off your drink with a sigh. Your eyes drift back over the room. The dance floor has grown. The room is warmer, or maybe that’s the alcohol in your veins. It still feels odd to see, like a glimpse into the past. You feel like you’re an outsider looking in, like someone watching a snow globe as it settles. You wonder if there’s a way in. You think you want it, but will you always feel like an outsider with them? Like you can’t experience life as they do. 
Gabe kicks his stool back, moving into your line of vision. He offers his non-injured hand, smile overtaking his face. “Come on, Doleful. Dance with me.”
You hesitate, staring at his hand like it’ll burn you. Why does this feel like a leap of faith? You’re moving into uncharted territory. 
“Unlike you, I won’t bite."
“I didn’t bite you.”
“No, just maimed,” he laughs. It’s good to see he doesn’t harbor any bad feelings about the injuries you inflicted. “Take my hand. Let yourself live just a little bit.” 
He looks so earnest, hopeful like a little kid waiting for their slice of birthday cake. Before you know it, your hand is in his. He pulls you out, navigating through other couples until he’s satisfied with a spot off to the side. He tugs you close, one hand in yours and another on your waist. It feels almost foreign, but you think you could get used to it. 
Your movements are stiff, uncoordinated. Your body is used to running and fighting for survival. The easy sway of dancing is gone from your bones. 
“Now, I know you have better moves than what you’re showing me,” Gabe says.
“I haven’t danced in years. I’m out of practice.”
“Ease your hips into it.”
You try, but it feels awkward and off beat compared to Gabe’s. “How are you so good at this?”
“This isn’t my first dance,” Gabe chuckles. “Let me help you.” He moves both hands to your hips, easing your body into more fluid movements. 
Heat spreads through your body, searing where he touches making it difficult to concentrate. Gabe smiles at you, encouraging you. You feel the easiness come back slowly. As you sink into it, your muscles loosen up swaying to the music. 
“There you go,” Gabe encourages. “I knew you had moves in you.”
 “Aren’t you just the knower of all things.” Your hands slide around his shoulders. 
“Well I was right about your smile, and your dance moves.”
“My dancing is subpar at best.”
He looks between your eyes. He tugs you a little closer, your body flush against him now. Your skin prickles with excitement as you fall into rhythm with him. It’s not something you’re used to. Desire has had no place in your life since the day the world collapsed. What might it be like to experience something beyond survival? You think it might be there now, blooming under the surface so unfamiliar, but natural. 
“Penny for your thoughts?” Gabe asks. 
“My thoughts are worth more than that.”
Gabe chuckles, spinning you around with a few quick moves before you fall back into him. “I suppose they are.”
Your lips flash to his lips, slightly chapped but inviting nonetheless. Then, the song ends. The air feels hot and thick around you as you stay in his arms, breath mingling with eachother’s.  
A slow smirk spreads across Gabe’s face. “Your thoughts are getting easier to read, Doleful.”
Your pulse beats in your ears, adrenaline and want and need course through your veins like it hasn’t in years. You lean your weight into him more. “What are you gonna do about it?” 
His thumb caresses your bottom lip, oblivious to the people around you, but they’re oblivious to you too. “Make you smile.”
You let out a breathy laugh, a smile hiding behind the flash of faux annoyance. “Among other things I hope.”
Heat flashes behind his eyes. He’s tempted to do it here, but he won’t. Once he starts, he doesn’t want to stop. His lips dip to your ear. “Grab your coat.”
You smirk, pushing off of him. His long, determined strides follow you. You wave to Maria as you grab your coat, a smile on your face. She clocks it immediately, a moment of shock rolling across her face that settles into a smirk. You roll your eyes at her. You’re really starting to warm up to the woman. 
Gabe’s hand is warm on your lower back, pushing you toward the house he’s occupied for the past week. He kisses you on the front porch, your uninhibited laughter filling the night before he hulls you inside. 
When he wakes up the next morning, the bed is empty, your clothes are gone, and there’s nothing but dirt where you left your boots last night. 
It’s only a week before you fall into his bed again, but months before you smile. 
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