#Soda Making Guide

[newbusinessideas]

How to Start a Soft Drink Business on Small Scale

🎥 Ready to turn your soft drink dreams into reality? 🥤✨ Discover the step-by-step process of How to Start a Soft Drink Manufacturing Business on Small Scale! 💼💡 Let's make your beverage business go viral! #EntrepreneurLife #SmallScaleBusiness

Soft Drink Business – Soft drinks are popular beverages that contain sugar, flavourings, and carbonated water. They are loved by people of all ages and are available locally and abroad. Soft drinks from many foreign companies are also available in our country. Soft drinks have become an integral part of people’s lives in India, providing refreshments after a hot and tiring day. The soft drink…

[kingkaisen]

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄!

🍔🍟 — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: there’s one thing GOJO won’t accept, and it’s bad customer service. he’ll just have to fuck the attitude right out of the rude cashier.

🍔🍟 — 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 18+ ONLY || MDNI — semi-public, unprotected & hate sex, creampie, orgasm denial, brief spanking, sweet & degrading nicknames, manhandling, dumbification, oral, fem! reader.

🍔🍟 — 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3K

🍔🍟 — 𝐚/𝐧: mdni template guide by @/kithsune. the reader does NOT work at mcdonald’s. screw mcdonald’s.

When Satoru Gojo stepped through the double doors of his favorite 24-hour fast-food restaurant — the door chiming to alert any potential workers of his presence — he wasn’t greeted.

That was the first red flag.

Truth be told, he wasn’t so entitled that he would expect to be greeted whenever he entered a place where customer service was expected, as most times, the employees were too busy preparing burgers and fries or wiping off greasy tables covered in spilled soda with nothing but a wet rag and an insane amount of patience.

But, it wasn’t the lunchtime rush hour. It was 1:35 A.M., and as he approached the counter, he saw only one employee, who wasn’t doing anything at all, aside from glaring at him.

As a busy man, Satoru wasn’t one to spend his precious time standing over a hot stove.

While he could cook, and his food was edible at the very least, his busy, career-driven lifestyle as an overworked individual meant that he had to rely on convenient fast food and styrofoam cups of chicken-flavored ramen more than he was willing to admit.

And, because of that, you recognized that white-haired man instantly.

Frequent visitor.

Always came in at the worst hours imaginable.

Liked to change up his order constantly as well, making it impossible to have his food prepared before his arrival.

“You again?” Frowning at the customer, you leaned over the counter, placing your elbow on the cold, gray countertop as your chin rested in the palm of your hand. “Did anyone ever teach you how to cook?”

“Did anyone ever teach you how to have manners?” Satoru shot back, his hands in his pockets as he halted his footsteps.

Those beautiful blue eyes of his scanned the big menu board above you, searching for the perfect hour-past-midnight combo.

Truth be told, he wasn’t taking a long time to order. Not any longer than most customers take, at least. But, even so, you rhythmically tapped your nails against the counter, sighing heavily with impatience.

“Something wrong?” Satoru darted his eyes down to you — the sluggish cashier.

“Can you just hurry up and order, please? I already gotta go cook whatever you want by myself without any help, so stop wasting my time.”

Satoru laughed, and you frowned.

What exactly did that lousy bastard find so funny?

“No wonder you’re not afraid to talk to me like that. And to dress out of dress code. There’s no one around to discipline you, huh?”

“Shut up,” rising from the counter, your frown only deepened, and his smile only widened. “Even if my boss was here, he wouldn’t care. Besides, the skirt is a part of the dress code, now just hurry up and order some-”

“But it’s not supposed to be pulled up that high, is it?”

Instead of responding, you grabbed your cup off of the counter, sipping on your favorite drink through the red, plastic straw as you glared at the aggravating customer.

“Are you gonna order or not?” You eventually questioned, your eyes glistening with annoyance.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Smirking, he pulled his black wallet out of his pocket. “I’ll have the number one with a coke.”

Silently, you pressed a few buttons on the POS system computer screen in front of you.

“$20.78.”

“That’s not right,” Satoru paused. “Way too high.”

“Well, I put it in correctly, so I don’t know what you want me to do about it. Can’t afford it?”

For a moment, Satoru simply stared at you. His facial expression was impossible to read.

Suddenly, he walked away from the counter, went through the black door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, and was standing right behind you in only a handful of seconds.

“What-” Stammering, you looked back at the tall man hovering behind you, who stared the computer screen. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re not supposed to come back here.”

“And you’re not supposed to overcharge a customer, right?” Satoru’s body was only a few inches away from yours, close enough for you to smell him. Feel his body heat. “Let me take a look at it.”

No flippant remark was fired back. How surprising.

You couldn’t see his face once you turned to look at the white screen displaying his incorrectly rung-up order, but you could feel his cocky smirk as he pressed a few buttons on your screen.

“Here’s the problem, baby.” He said. “You rang up my order twice without realizing it. Is pressing a few buttons too difficult for you? Hm?”

Folding your arms across your chest, you refused to answer that smirking son-of-a-bitch.

“No answer? Oh, c’mon.” Suddenly, Satoru closed the space between your bodies, completely pressing himself against your backside. “You were running your mouth earlier. Why so shy now? Not so bold when there isn’t a counter separating us, are you?”

You gulped. And you gulped because that annoying customer’s hard bulge was pressed right against your ass and back, and — god — as much as you would like to slap him across the face, you found yourself slickly pushing back against him instead, just to feel it through your skirt a little more.

Your own desperation was embarrassing for you, but it couldn’t be helped. Not when he was so close.

“Oh, I see,” Reaching around you, Satoru’s large hand suddenly cupped your jaw, and he pulled your head up and to the side until you were looking at him.

“So you don’t wanna talk, you don’t wanna take my order, but you wanna try and grind yourself against me? I had a feeling you were nothing more than a little slut, and it looks like I was right.”

Before you could respond — not that you would have, as you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction — Satoru leaned down a bit and smashed his lips against yours.

You sharply inhaled, gasping in shock, and he smiled against your lips before deepening the kiss.

With his large hand cupping your jaw, keeping your head in place, he shoved his tongue into your wet mouth, moaning at the sweet taste of you.

Feeling your tongue swirl around his as if you could keep up with the sloppy way he dominated your mouth was both cute and amusing to him.

He kissed you deeply like this so you would forever remember the taste of him. So you would never forget the feeling of his tongue rubbing against yours.

And when he pulled away, a string of spit falling from your previously connected lips, Satoru suddenly gripped your waist from behind, lifted you a bit, and placed you across the counter.

You were lying on your stomach with your ass exposed to him, and the entire scene was exposed for any potential customer who walked in to witness.

“What the hell are you thinking?” You glanced around, double-checking that the restaurant was empty. “Someone could walk in and catch us, you idiot.”

“Think that makes it pretty exciting, doesn’t it? Maybe they’ll enjoy a show.”

He wasn’t worried. Worst case scenario, he’d have to ask his friend in the government, Suguru Geto, to work some magic for him.

Satoru ran his hands over the back of your soft thighs. Then, he fondled your ass, raising your skirt and pulling down your underwear.

He gave your ass a quick spank, laughing when you yelped a bit.

“You know what I think?” He paused, running his fingers across the glistening lips of your pussy. “I think you’re overworked, aren’t you, baby? Pretty girls like you become all bitter and angry when they have to work so much because then they have no time to get fucked properly. Isn’t that right?”

Suddenly, Satoru bit his bottom lip and shoved two of his fingers inside your aching hole.

“This pussy’s pretty tight, sweetheart. Seems like I was right.” Pumping his long fingers in and out of you at a steady, quick pace, he said, “Don’t worry. I’m gonna take care of you. I’ll make sure you get a good fucking.”

Muffled moans and the sound of cars speeding down the road in the distance filled the silence. Satoru, however, didn’t appreciate your attempts at quieting the beautiful noises he was eliciting from you.

“Put your hands behind your back,” Satoru ordered.

You removed your hand, which was previously covering your mouth. Placing both arms behind your back, Satoru held on tightly to your wrists with one hand and continued to curl his fingers up inside of your pussy with the other.

“There we go,” he said with a teasing tone. “I’ve had to listen to you run your mouth. Now let me hear you moan.”

“Oh my god,” you breathlessly moaned. “Shit . . .”

He was right. It had been far too long since anyone had touched you, and even then, it wasn’t as pleasurable as it was right now.

He moved his fingers with great skill. As you arrived closer and closer to your approaching orgasm — made obvious by the way you started to squirm — Satoru pumped his fingers faster and faster.

Just when you were about cum, he yanked them out of your clenching hole.

“Why-Why’d you stop?” You groaned in frustration. “Keep going.”

“No. I don’t want you cumming on my fingers. I want you to cum in my mouth.” With a smirk — although you couldn’t see his face — Satoru raised his fingers to his lips and licked them, sampling a taste of what he would soon devour.

“You’re an asshole,” you swore. Satoru only laughed in response.

He then got down on his knees, getting in the perfect position to eat you out from behind, releasing your wrists so he could use both of his hands to spread your pussy lips apart. “You ready? Don’t hold back, okay?”

Feeling Satoru’s tongue against your clit resulted in a gasp of shock erupting from your throat, followed by a lengthy moan.

He didn’t eat you out like a gentleman, either.

He licked, sucked, and slurped at you like a starving man.

He swirled his tongue around your clit, pausing only to suck on it. He pushed his tongue into your hole, fucking you with it.

Your combined moans were a beautiful sound he wanted to hear for the rest of his life. His moans in particular added a bit of vibration as he ate your pussy.

Satoru gripped your ass cheeks with his hands, massaging them. The sheer force of his lips and tongue working against your sensitive pussy made your body rock back and forth across the counter.

Damn him.

“Ah!” You moaned sharply. “Oh my – oh my god . . .”

The pleasure was indescribable.

He knew exactly how to work his tongue, and the magic that came with having your clit licked at and sucked on had you squirming your arms around, gripping the edge of the counter, trying to find anything to hold on to.

You accidentally knocked your drink off of the counter and onto the floor. It splattered, ice and soda spilling everywhere, but at the same time, your cum was starting to spill onto Satoru’s tongue.

That was all that mattered.

He smacked your ass once again as he felt you start to flood his mouth.

God, you tasted amazing. Better than the food he originally came into the fast-food restaurant to eat.

If he could, he would have eaten you out over and over again. Made you cum onto his tongue over and over again. One orgasm for every customer you mistreated.

But he was in a hurry, truthfully not wanting to push his luck when it came to having privacy.

And, at this point, his clothed dick was painfully hard.

Satoru rose to his feet.

Suddenly, he grabbed your waist and flipped you over, your back against the counter this time.

Leaning over slightly, he placed his hands on your thighs, rubbing them. It was undoubtedly his favorite body part of yours.

His eyes darted down to the red framed name tag above your right breast.

“Y/N, huh? Cute name.”

Satoru unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down.

Lining the tip of his lengthy cock up with your hole, he said, “it’s nice to officially meet you. My name’s Satoru. Make sure you moan it for me, okay?”

Satoru started to fill you up perfectly. His rhythmic thrusts, quick, yet steady pace — it all made beautiful moans flutter from between your lips without a second thought.

You were no longer worried about getting caught. With every thrust, you found yourself unable to focus on anything that wasn’t related to being fucked by your annoying customer.

“Ah, Satoru,” you moaned and whimpered.

He gripped your hips, his blue eyes flickering between your pretty, fucked out face and your bouncing boobs.

He increased his speed — god, he wanted to cum so badly. Desperately.

His desire to fill you up resulted in him holding onto the plush of your hips a bit tighter, slamming in and out of you a bit faster.

Skin slapped against skin. His balls bounced off of your ass.

“Oh, fuck. That’s it, baby. Just lie there and take it for me. Take it.”

He leaned over. His mouth hovered above your ear, thrusts never slowing, and he whispered, “my pretty girl can’t think about anything other than this dick, hm? All you know how to do is cum and moan, is that right?”

With a low moan of his own, Satoru slowly licked your left ear. Removing one of his hands from your hips, he gripped your right tit, slowly gliding his thumb over your hard, clothed nipple. Those perfect lips of his detached from your ear only to trail wet kisses down your neck. His index finger flicked at your nipple rapidly.

“Shit, I can’t wait to cum inside of you.” Satoru hooked his hand under your knee, pushing your leg back towards your chest, which made you feel his cock even deeper than before.

“Satoru . . . gonna cum again,” your pathetic warning was followed by a whine.

“Ah . . .” Beads of sweat pooled across Satoru’s forehead. “So close, I’m so close, baby. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-”

Your tight pussy was milking his cock like you were both put on this earth for the sole purpose of fucking one another.

With a loud moan, Satoru’s steady thrusts staggered in rhythm, and he shot his big load inside of you. Never had he come so much — he was almost embarrassed by it, stuffing your hole so sinfully.

But then, your pussy clenched around him, and your second orgasm crashed upon you like an enormous wave, overwhelming your senses until you couldn’t do anything except moan, cum, and feel Satoru’s dick throb and spurt out his semen inside of you.

You were both breathless. Happily fucked out.

But as Satoru pulled you off of the counter, the lustful gaze within his blue eyes told you that he wasn’t finished with you yet.

“Get on your knees.”

How obedient you were, following his orders by dropping down on the black and white tiled floor. He could hardly believe you were the same woman who had the nerve to be snappy with him earlier. The same woman who purposely wouldn’t give condiments to annoying restaurant regulars.

When you opened your mouth without him telling you to, looking up at him with pleading eyes, his cock throbbed painfully.

“You’re such a good girl,” Satoru grinned, pumping his cock with his fist.

“Hurry,” you whined impatiently.

Satoru gripped the back of your head. He shoved his dick in your mouth.

Instantly, he started to thrust his dick down your throat, bucking his hips yet again as he had done several times throughout the night.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to keep you waiting so long,” he spoke sarcastically and breathlessly, tossing his head back. “I know how many times you’ve kept me waiting for my orders as a customer. Doesn’t feel so good, does it, sweetheart? To be kept waiting?”

With a moan, Satoru gripped your hair even tighter than before. Your warm and wet mouth was working wonders on his dick. He already dreaded the moment in which he’d have to stop face fucking you.

“Your mouth feels so good,” he closed his eyes in pure bliss. “I’m gonna cum again already.”

Spit dribbled out from the sides of your mouth. Your hands held onto his thighs. The big vein on the underside of his cock throbbed against your tongue as he moaned louder, thrusts growing sloppy.

His sweet and warm cum flooded your mouth.

“Swallow it. Fucking swallow it, baby. There you go.” Breathing unevenly as he came, he held your head still, not daring to take his cock out of your mouth until you swallowed every last drop. “That mouth was meant for swallowing my cum, not talking back to me. You understand me?”

You hummed around his cock in response. The vibrating sensation made his dick twitch, spurting out the last bit of his cum down your throat.

Satoru removed his dick from your mouth, but he only gave you a second to breathe, because suddenly, he leaned down and he replaced his cock with his tongue.

Still gripping your hair, he kissed you sloppily — filthily — creating a mixture of your combined spit and the remnants of his cum you hadn’t yet completely swallowed. The customer moaned just to show you how much he was enjoying the taste of your mouth. How he cherished the mess you were both making.

Eventually, Satoru pulled his tongue out of your mouth, ending the kiss with a quick bite at your bottom lip.

Like a gentleman, he helped you off of the floor.

You both started to put back on your removed clothing items or straighten out what had gotten disheveled.

“Are you still hungry?” You asked rather shyly, running your hands down your skirt, smoothing it out.

With a small laugh, Satoru said, “Oh, that’s right. I almost forgot about the food.”

You washed up with low-quality soap and water as best as you could. The raggedy soap dispensers could surely use an upgrade.

Then, you made your way into the kitchen, preparing Satoru’s order as he waited patiently.

You gave him his hot bag of food with a soft smile.

Opening it, he saw plenty of napkins and condiments.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Grabbing the bag and his drink, he winked at you before he started walking away from the very counter he just finished fucking you across. “I’ll see you later, alright?”

“Okay,” your sad mumble — which was from the fact that he was leaving already — had quickly changed as you started to realize something. “Wait! You forgot to pay!”

Satoru wholeheartedly ignored you. Stepping through the exit doors, which dinged as he opened them, he left the fast-food restaurant and got into his car. Pulling out his phone, the man set a reminder to wipe tonight’s surveillance camera footage in the morning.

It was rather fortunate that he owned the restaurant.

♡ — 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

[artdcnaldson]

NEED art and patrick to find out I'm a virgin and offer to teach me how to kiss and how to fuck and use eachother as examples and guide me and tell me I'm doing a good job and reward me for being such a good student and come back later and quiz me to see if I remember everything they taught me ugh obsessed with them individually and as a unit

This has lived rent free in my mind for literally forever. I can’t stop thinking about it, it haunts my every waking moment.

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Making out, Handjob lessons, guys being pervs, not a love triangle they just all want to fuck each other

A/N: unedited bc I wrote this while on the clock okay whatever. Enjoyyyy and if u want me to continue this lmk >:)

“I think it’s sweet,” Patrick said, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, practically dripping from every syllable. “The last American virgin. You belong in a museum.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your empty Taco Bell cup at him— the ice rattled and it leaked a puddle of condensation onto the ground. “You could try not to be a dick about it.”

Art’s dorm room was hot and sticky thanks to a faulty AC, which meant the three of you lounging on the floor by his open window, sucking down soda watered down by melted ice cubes. You were down to a T-shirt and shorts, they were down to their boxers. It wasn’t lost on you that it was an intimate situation to be in— barely dressed, crammed into the shoebox of a dorm. And of course Patrick had dug his fingers in until you admitted your secret— you had made it all the way to college totally unfucked.

Patrick leaned forward, smiling the smarmy smile that tended to wear at your last nerve. “So you’re a virgin, but like,” he leaned in, so close you could feel body heat radiating from him. He dropped his voice, just above a whisper. “How much of a virgin, really? You’ve at least gone to third, right?” You glared, but shook your head.

“Second?” Art supplied, suddenly jumping in with an eager sort of curiosity.

“What? No, I don’t even know what that means,” you admitted. You sighed before you spoke up. “I’ve only ever kissed one guy and one girl, and it was during a game of spin the bottle, like, junior year.”

“How?” Patrick asked.

Your brows furrowed. “How? I spun the bottle, it landed on the person, I leaned in, put my lips against theirs, and that was it.”

Patrick sighed. “Just fucking show me how.” He looked at you expectantly, inching even closer.

With an annoyed sigh, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his— mouth closed, lips firm. When you sat back, Patrick and Art were both grinning.

“What?” You asked with a frown.

“That’s how you kiss on the playground in elementary school,” Art said, unable to contain his laughter. “C’mere.”

You crawled forward, stopping in front of the blond. His hand settled on your jaw, coaxing you forward.

His lips met yours softly, sweetly. It was easy to lose yourself in the feeling of Art’s mouth, in the gentle brushes of his lips against yours and the way he held your face so tenderly.

The feeling of his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips was strange, but you welcomed it, letting him lick into your mouth.

Each pass of his tongue against yours drew you deeper and deeper into it, into him. You moved into his lap without realizing it, kissing him with sweet, timid laps of your tongue.

Art pulled back first, his cheeks soft and pink and so pretty. “See? That’s how you’re supposed to kiss someone. That was really good.”

You laughed softly, and moved off of his lap sheepishly. Patrick leaned forward, brushing your hair back, holding your face in his hand.

“Okay, show me what Art showed you,” he instructed, then leaned in.

Kissing Patrick was different than kissing Art. He was hungrier, more insistent. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he wanted to chart every inch. You did your best to match what he offered, to kiss the way Art had just shown you, sweetly, like you really meant it.

And you did mean it. Patrick’s hands moved along your side, up until they cupped your tits through your shirt. You moaned softly into his mouth— the sound was muffled, met with a moan of his own. He gave an experimental squeeze of your tits and you whined softly. So he did it again, amused by the pretty, sweet noises you mewled out.

Patrick was getting hard, pressing against your thigh. It was a new sensation that you were hyper aware of as you unconsciously ground yourself against him.

You pulled back first, cheeks burning hot after you remembered Art was right beside you. You tucked unkempt hair behind your ear, smiled bashfully. “How was I?”

“Good,” Patrick said.

At the same time Art supplied, “So good.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Okay. Cool.”

Art was squirming, fidgeting, holding a pillow over his lap. Patrick was less covert— opting to openly adjust himself, drawing more attention to the fact that he was hard. You rolled your eyes and stole the nearest cup you could find, sipping at watered down Mountain Dew.

“Do you want me to leave?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. Your teeth dug into the plastic straw as you looked between the two of them.

Art stammered, mortified, but Patrick just smiled dizzyingly over at you. “I can teach you something else. You got to first base, so why don’t you steal second?”

You rolled your eyes, but heat flared behind your cheeks. Jesus Christ, he was such a smug asshole. “I still don’t know what that means,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed.

He grinned and mimed jerking off. Your eyes widened, and you laughed softly. “That would be weird,” you said, half-believing it. “Like, if I did jerk one of you off, that leaves one of you just watching.”

You glanced at Art, who looked just as interested as Patrick did, and your heart stammered nervously. “What if I show you how you do it on Art? Look at him— he’s the perfect little practice dummy.” Patrick reached over, pinching at Art’s cheek until the blond kicked his shin.

“Show me?” You echoed. “Like… you’re going to do it to him, and I do it to you?”

Patrick nodded, leaning into Art’s side, his smarmy smile dissolved into something needier. Art swallowed hard, lips parted slightly as he looked over at Patrick.

Patrick’s lips met his slowly, hungrily. You watched wide eyed as Patrick deepened the kiss, as Art eagerly accepted the other boy’s tongue into his mouth.

Patrick threw the pillow out of Art’s lap and sent it careening into the desk on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes widened at the sight of Art, hard and tenting his boxers. Patrick palmed him in his large hands making the blonde whimper into his mouth and buck up, seeking friction.

You swallowed hard, biting down on the straw as you watched Patrick tug at the elastic of Art’s boxers. Art lifted his hips to allow Patrick to tug them down his thighs, just enough to expose his cock to both of you.

“See,” Patrick gasped, leaning back from their kiss. Art chased his lips fruitlessly, mouth ajar, waiting for more. “He’s so fucking easy. Come feel.”

You moved closer, looking at Art for permission. When he nodded, you reached out, letting your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft. He exhaled a shuddery breath, eyes fluttering shut. Patrick’s hand covered yours, guiding you to squeeze around his length.

He was warm under your touch, silky soft, pulsing in your grip. Your heart hammered just at that— at the feel of him in your hand. “Feels nice, huh? Knowing how much he wants you.” You nodded, then slid your fist up, testing the waters. Art moaned softly, throbbed in your grip, aching for more. Patrick smiled like the cat who got the cream. “Hands off, just watch me.”

Patrick spat into his hand and replaced your hand with his own. The second Patrick curled his fingers around Art and started stroking him slowly, the blond was mewling for more. “Fuck,” he moaned, his forehead knocking against Patrick’s, mouth open, panting. “That’s good, feels good.”

You watched Patrick rub his thumb over Art’s tip, eyes widening as Art really whimpered for it, hips thrusting up into Patrick’s fist, chasing more of the pleasure the brunet offered.

“You get it now?” Patrick asked. You nodded quickly, and he tugged down his own boxers. “Fuck, okay— fucking show me.”

Your heart hammered with nerves, but you nodded. You held your hand out and spit into it, mimicking what Patrick had done before you wrapped your hand around his cock.

He felt bigger in your hands, but you didn’t say that. One, you worried it might piss Art off, and two, he didn’t need the ego boost. And he was slick, beading precum at his tip so each pass of your hands felt slicker and slicker.

And you couldn’t help but want to be an asshole. “You’re wet like a girl,” you said with a smirk, gliding your thumb over his tip.

And he was shameless, nodding with a sly grin. “That means I like you.” He panted, moaning softly. “Besides, I bet your fucking panties aren’t dry right now.”

Well, fuck. You tried to ignore the rush of heat in your belly that those words caused, to focus only on the glide of your hand on Patrick’s cock— up and down, copying his pace on Art, copying the ways he’d squeeze and twist his hand.

Art was moaning, rutting up into the tight sheath of Patrick’s fist, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and relaxing in unsteady jerks beneath his soft skin.

“Fuck— switch, switch,” Patrick said quickly. Art whined when Patrick stopped touching him, but it was ignored. “Want you to feel it when he comes.”

He guided your hand back onto Art’s cock and nodded for you to move. “Fuck, your hand’s so soft,” Art groaned. “Faster, faster, fuck—“ He was practically begging. You swallowed, increased the pace, squeezed him a little tighter.

Art was touching Patrick— jerking him off while you brought him closer and closer to finishing. Patrick leaned in, kissed you deeply, pulled Art in too until the three of you were a mess of tongues and lips and spit and hands.

Art came first— coating your hand in warm, slick cum, throbbing in your grip. He was panting into your and Patrick’s mouths, moaning softly as you continued to slowly work him through it. Patrick came next, once Art redoubled his effort, focused on making Patrick add to the mess covering your hands.

Patrick was loud, pornographic, messy. Art brought a cum covered hand between his lips, cleaning it up. Your eyes widened.

“Art, c’mon, you’re scandalizing her,” Patrick said, like you weren’t even there.

“Shut up,” you said, shoving him. He laughed and pulled his boxers back up. Art followed suit, and the three of you were left gross and sweating in the heat. You wiped your hand off on one of their discarded shirts and gave a sheepish smile.

They sat there, expectantly. Waiting for you to make the next call. There was a level of want in you, need, but the thought of asking for them to take care of it was mortifying. “Do you want to watch a movie or something now?”

[khioneee]

CATER 2 U

synopsis. rafe knew you weren’t a hardcore partygoer. but every once in a while, you’d indulge him and come along. pairing. rafe cameron x reader content. lowkey fluffy. dotting boyfriend (mans down bad). slight jealousy. alcohol. word count. 1.1k

the moment you walked in, rafe was already in protector mode. he found you a comfortable spot to sit, clearing the area like a professional bodyguard.

‘here, baby,’ he said, handing you your kindle, which he’d thoughtfully grabbed from the car. ‘brought this just in case you needed it.’ he crouched down in front of you, his hand brushing against your knee as he smiled softly. ‘water or soda? unless you’re planning on drinking tonight. your choice, sweetheart.’

you shook your head, amused at how seriously he was taking this. but you knew it was just his way of making sure you were comfortable in a space that wasn’t naturally yours.

throughout the night, rafe’s eyes would drift to you, even while he was in conversation with his friends. he’d glance your way, mouthing a quick ‘you good?’ from across the room.

you’d nod, and he’d give you a satisfied little smile before turning back to whoever had his attention.

at one point, he returned with a big bag of chips, setting it in your lap. ‘here, sweetheart. the kitchen’s packed, wouldn’t want you to get caught in a stampede.’ you couldn’t help but laugh at how thoughtful he was, even in the middle of chaos.

when you needed to use the restroom, he was right there, following close behind and standing outside the door like a loyal guard dog. he leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the hallway for any sign of trouble. he didn’t care if anyone teased him.

he knew how unpredictable parties could get, and he wasn’t about to take any risks when it came to your safety.

when someone drunkenly stumbled too close to the door, he stepped forward, his broad frame blocking their path entirely. ‘keep walking,’ he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

and when you emerged from the restroom, his eyes immediately softened. ‘all good?’ he asked, one hand instinctively brushing against your back as he guided you back toward the main party.

it was little things like this that reminded you why you felt so safe with him.

as the night wore on, rafe found himself caught in a lengthy business interaction outside. but even then, he wasn’t about to leave you unattended.

‘lover boy’s doing business,’ topper announced as he plopped down in the armchair near you, a playful smirk on his face. ‘hi, doll.’

you looked up from your kindle, surprised but grateful for the company. ‘he sent you over?’

‘of course,’ topper said, crossing his arms and leaning back as if settling in for the long haul. ‘can’t let you fend for yourself, can we?’

you chuckled softly, pushing your undrunk beer toward him. one of the many drinks rafe had brought for you earlier. ‘want this? i’m not gonna finish it.’

topper waved it off with mock seriousness. ‘no, ma’am. i’m on duty.’

you raised an eyebrow, amused. ‘duty?’

‘yep,’ he said, leaning forward slightly, his tone teasing but good-natured. ‘rafe made it clear—keep an eye on you. so,’ he gestured toward your kindle with a grin, ‘what are we reading tonight?’

you laughed, appreciating how even his friends were roped into rafe’s overprotective tendencies. but that was just rafe, always making sure you were cared for, even when he wasn’t by your side.

as night blurred into morning, rafe wandered over to you, his steps slow and deliberate. you glanced up at him with a soft smile as he crouched slightly in front of you, his hand reaching up to gently brush a stray hair out of your face.

‘you good, sweetheart?’ he asked, his voice quiet, almost lost in the muffled bass of the party music.

you nodded, though the faint yawn you tried to stifle didn’t go unnoticed.

his lips quirked up into a knowing smile, his thumb grazing your cheek for just a second. ‘just say the word, and we’re out of here, alright? we don’t have to stay if you’re tired.’

you shook your head lightly, touched by his attentiveness. ‘i’m fine, rafe. really.’

but he tilted his head, narrowing his eyes just a bit. ‘no need to be polite, baby. you know i’d rather be with you anyway.’

rafe’s sharp eyes caught sight of you across the room, and he froze mid-conversation. there you were, sitting on the couch, your usual spot.

but this time, someone else was next to you.

a guy.

he was leaning in, his arm casually draped along the back of the couch, too close for rafe’s liking. worse, you were laughing at something he said. you were laughing, completely unaware of the tension building across the room.

rafe’s jaw tightened, the edges of his calm facade slipping as a flush of irritation rose to his cheeks. his friends followed his line of sight, their chatter dying out.

topper raised a brow, muttering, ‘uh-oh.’

rafe didn’t respond. he didn’t need to. he was already moving, cutting through the crowd with purpose, his broad frame towering over anyone who didn’t step aside quickly enough.

reaching the couch, rafe didn’t say a word to the guy. instead, he dropped onto the arm of the chair beside you, his movement sharp and intentional. as he sat, his hand brushed against the guy’s arm, deliberately shoving it off the back of the couch.

the guy flinched, looking up at rafe, only to be met with an icy glare that sent him reeling.

‘hey, baby,’ rafe said, turning to you with a smile that was a little too tight.

‘hey!’ completely oblivious, you beamed up at him. ‘we were just talking about books. turns out we’ve read a lot of the same ones.’

rafe let out a low, unimpressed hum, his arm moving to rest on the couch behind you, claiming the space the guy had just occupied. ‘is that so?’

the guy stammered something about needing another drink, his confidence wilting under rafe’s glare as he quickly stood and disappeared into the crowd.

you blinked, glancing at rafe. ‘did you scare him off?’

rafe tilted his head, his lips twitching into a smirk as he looked down at you. ‘nah, baby. he just realized he wasn’t needed here.’

you furrowed your brows but let it go, leaning back into rafe’s arm as he relaxed against the chair.

after a moment, rafe glanced down at you, his voice softening. ‘let’s go home.’

you smiled, nodding as rafe helped you up, his hand steady on your waist.

and as you left the party together, rafe cast one last glance at the guy from across the room—a silent warning that needed no words.

after a beat, rafe tilted his head down toward you. ‘you don’t need anyone else to talk books with, baby,’ he murmured, leaning in close, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. ‘you’ve got me.’

[tiramissyoucake]

Sorry for never posting, I'm depressed lol here's a quick one with Mark

You slowed the car down as you finally reached the location Mark sent you an hour ago. You were late, yes, but you had a plan that was a sort of apology. you saw him approaching with an annoyed look on his face as if preparing ammunition to fire at you for making him wait so long when you promised you would be one time; you approximate that he's been waiting for well over an hour and maybe 30 minutes.

The car door opened as he shuffled in, he wasted no time. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you?! I told you to pick me up a—mmffm?!"

You anticipated this. You anticipated a lot more actually, which is why you prepared your own countermeasures. The first was a tasty burger from his favourite fast food place, and it seemed his mouth chewed faster than his brain can scold you and yet he still managed to complain as your hand held up the burger, his own quickly cradling the burger close to his lips.

"I tod you to come a' fou' so I egpec' you at fou'!' Mark tried to speak as he chewed, his body seemed to go against his anger as he happily munched, his mouth was once more occupied as you guided a soda straw to his lips and he hilariously took an eager sip like a parched traveller.

"—don' make promises if you won't follow through, I could've ubered!" You could tell his resolve was weakening, you held up a box of fries to him silently and he took the bait too quickly. "A-and don't think this means we're good! I'm just hungry! You're still on thin ice for pissing me off!"

It was cute how he insisted he could stay mad at you when you knew him so well, you easily slipped two boxes on his lap; specifically the Science Dog figurines mystery boxes exclusively released on an obscure website you had trouble signing up for to purchase. (he swore it was sold out, the poor idiot.)

Mark swallowed the lump of food in his throat as he toyed with the boxes and slurped on his soda, finally relaxing in his seat. "You're still late but don't do it again— now take me home..." he mumbled, his attention clearly not on anything else but his spoils.

You held back a smug smile from showing on your face as you began driving. "Sorry, I'll come early next time." He hums in response, mumbling a non-genuine "you better be..."

[jupiterpilgrim]

Storm

Dahyun x Male Reader

word count: 5K

The storm’s been pounding the world outside since morning, slashing against the windows like nature itself lost its temper. Inside, though, it’s warm. Smells of butter and chocolate fill the small kitchen as you finish arranging the last handful of popcorn in the bowl. You grab the soda cans, balancing everything like a waiter on a tightrope. In the living room, Dahyun’s voice carries over the rumble of rain.

“Babe! Hurry up!” she whines, her pitch soaring as you hear the soft thuds of her bouncing on the couch cushions. She sounds like a sugar-rushed kid waiting for cake. You can already picture her, legs tucked under her, short pink Hello Kitty shorts riding up her pale thighs, loose shirt hanging off one shoulder. You shake your head with a grin, grabbing a pack of M&Ms to complete the spread.

Three months of living together, and the novelty hasn’t worn off. It’s the little things—how she’ll randomly burst into song while brushing her teeth or how she’s somehow made every corner of the house scream Dahyun. She’s your chaotic little sunbeam, glowing even on days like this, when the world outside feels drenched in gray.

You make your way into the living room. Dahyun’s perched on her knees now, practically vibrating with excitement. “Finally! I thought you were planning a three-course meal back there,” she teases, flashing that toothy grin of hers.

“Snacks are serious business,” you shoot back, setting the tray down on the coffee table.

She claps her hands like a kid at Christmas and immediately snatches the remote. “Okay, okay, let’s do this!” She’s already flicking through the Disney+ menu, landing on the classic she’s been hyping all week. Something bright and nostalgic—perfect for a stormy night.

Just as she’s about to press play, the sky outside splits open. Thunder roars so loud it rattles the windows, and then—bam—everything goes dark.

“AAAAHHHH!” Dahyun shrieks, her voice cutting through the sudden silence. She’s off the couch in a flash, nearly tripping over herself as she stumbles toward you. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my GOD!” Her hands clutch at your arm, fingers digging in like a cat trying to climb a tree.

“It’s just a blackout,” you say, but she’s already shaking her head.

“Nope. Nope. Nope,” she chants, squeezing her eyes shut. Her grip tightens as another crack of thunder rolls through, closer this time. She lets out a tiny yelp, burying her face in your chest.

You wrap an arm around her, pulling her close. “Dahyunnie, it’s fine. It’s just weather. It’s not gonna eat you.”

“It feels like it’s gonna eat me,” she mutters into your shirt, voice muffled and pitiful. “What if it doesn’t come back? What if we’re stuck in the dark forever?”

You bite back a laugh, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Forever’s a stretch, don’t you think?”

“Don’t make fun of me!” she pouts, though the corners of her lips twitch. Her hands stay glued to you as she shuffles in place, practically curling into your side like you’re the only thing keeping her tethered to sanity.

You guide her back to the couch, sitting down with her practically in your lap. The rain hammers harder against the windows, and every so often the room lights up with a jagged flash of lightning. Each time, Dahyun flinches, burying herself further into you until she’s half-straddling you, her thin little body trembling slightly under the loose shirt.

“You’re really not a fan of storms, huh?” you ask softly, running your fingers through her silky black hair.

“Nope. Never. Hate them,” she mutters, clutching the front of your shirt. “They’re loud, and it’s dark, and it’s like... ugh, I can’t explain it.” She looks up at you, and even though you can't see it properly, you know she's scrunching her nose in that way that always makes your heart flip. “You think I’m dumb.

“I think you’re adorable,” you say, leaning in to nuzzle her. She giggles despite herself, smacking your chest lightly.

“Don’t try to charm me. I’m serious. I feel like a little kid, freaking out like this.”

“You’re my little kid,” you tease, earning another playful slap. “Alright, alright, I get it. But you know what? You don’t have to deal with it alone. I’m here.”

Her fingers relax a little, her body softening against you. She sighs, resting her head on your shoulder. “You always make me feel safe,” she murmurs.

“I mean, I am pretty great,” you joke, earning a snort.

Her laughter is short-lived as another rumble of thunder sends a shiver through her. Her legs twitch slightly where they’re pressed against yours, bare and smooth. You trail your hand down to her thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“Hey,” you whisper, tilting her chin up so she’s looking at you. “I know a way to make you forget about the storm.”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

You lean in closer, your voice dropping low. “Distraction therapy.”

Her lips part, her breath hitching slightly as she catches the mischievous glint in your eye. “You’re ridiculous,” she mumbles, though there’s a flicker of interest in her voice.

“Maybe,” you admit, letting your hand wander just a little higher, brushing the hem of her shorts. “But you love me for it.”

Her cheeks flush pink, the storm momentarily forgotten as she shifts in your lap, the weight of her settling just right.

You move your hand to Dahyun's head, your fingers comb through her hair, the silky strands slipping easily between your fingers. She feels so small in your lap, legs folded up, her cheek pressed against your chest. The rain’s still battering the windows, and the occasional flicker of lightning casts jagged shadows across the room, but you focus on her—on her warmth, her little huffs of nervous breath.

“You okay?” you ask softly, breaking the silence.

She nods weakly, though her grip on your shirt hasn’t loosened. “Yeah... I just—tonight was supposed to be fun, you know?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, brushing her hair behind her ear. “You were excited about the movie.”

She pulls back just enough to look up at you, her pout exaggerated. “Of course I was! It’s a classic! I’ve been talking about it all week, haven’t I?” Her voice lilts with playful indignation, though her eyes are still wide, the thunder’s threat lurking in the back of her mind.

“You’ve been hyping it like it’s the second coming of Christ,” you tease, earning a small giggle.

“Well, yeah,” she says with a dramatic toss of her head. “Now it’s ruined. Stupid storm.” Her gaze drifts toward the window, her mood dipping again. You hate seeing that little flicker of disappointment in her.

“We’ll watch it as soon as the power comes back,” you promise, pulling her closer. “But hey, this just means we’ll have to do this whole thing again. More snacks, more cuddles. Bigger deal.”

She narrows her eyes like she’s considering your pitch, then smirks. “Fine, but only if you let me pick another movie, too.”

“Deal,” you say, grinning, just as another crack of thunder splits the air.

Dahyun screams, loud and high-pitched, the sound stabbing directly into your eardrum. You wince, half-deaf, as she scrambles up against you like she’s trying to climb inside your skin. Her arms lock around your neck, her whole body trembling like a cornered kitten.

“Oh my god, oh my god, I hate this! It feels like the sky is gonna fall!” she wails, voice muffled against your chest.

“It’s okay, baby,” you whisper, stroking her back in slow circles. “It’s just noise. It can’t hurt you.”

“But it feels like it can,” she whimpers, squeezing tighter.

“Hey, listen to me,” you say, tilting her chin up so her glassy eyes meet yours. “You don’t need to be scared, okay? I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna happen to you while I’m here.”

She sniffs, her lips wobbling into the faintest smile. “You always say the right thing, huh?”

“It’s a gift,” you say, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “But for real. If you ever feel scared, you just let me know, okay?”

She nods, her voice small. “Okay.”

A pause stretches between you, the storm roaring outside, while inside, it’s just her heartbeat against yours. Finally, you murmur, “You want me to calm you down now? Make you feel good?”

She blinks up at you, her breath catching slightly. “...Yeah,” she whispers, almost shyly.

You lean in, the space between you shrinking. In the dark, neither of you can see clearly, and when your lips meet, there’s a sharp clink—teeth crashing together painfully.

“Shit!” you yelp, pulling back, your hand flying to your mouth.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” she gasps, then bursts out laughing when she sees you clutching your face. “You’re such a dork!”

“Me?! You’re the one who can’t aim!” you shoot back, grinning despite the ache.

She’s still laughing as you cup her face again, this time more careful, your thumb brushing against her cheekbone. “Alright, let’s try this again,” you whisper, and then your lips meet hers properly. It’s soft at first, a tentative press, but the way she melts into you makes you press harder, deeper. Her hands find their way to your shoulders, fingers curling into your shirt as she sighs into your mouth.

The world outside seems to shrink. The storm, the dark, the cold—all of it fades as your bodies draw closer, her warmth against yours. Her lips are so soft, and there’s something addictive about the way she responds, the little noises she makes as your hands trail down her sides, brushing the bare skin of her thighs where her shorts ride up.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting together, you whisper, “C’mon. Let’s go to the bedroom.”

She hesitates for half a second, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip, before nodding. “Okay,” she breathes.

The two of you fumble your way through the pitch-black apartment, bumping into furniture and each other. She stifles a giggle when she nearly trips over the coffee table, clutching your hand like it’s her lifeline. By the time you reach the bedroom, both of you are out of breath from laughing, the tension from earlier replaced with something warm, intimate. You push the door open, pulling her inside as lightning flashes outside, casting fleeting silver across her silhouette.

In the dark, her arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close again. “Thanks for being my storm shield,” she whispers, her voice soft and teasing.

“Anytime,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss her again, this time slower, savoring every second.

Your lips are locked with hers, warm and soft, and it’s like nothing else in the world matters. As you kiss her, you guide her backward, your hands on her waist, steadying her as you move. Her leg bumps against the edge of the bed, and before either of you can react, she stumbles, falling onto the mattress with a surprised laugh.

You’re right there with her, landing softly on top of her. She’s still giggling, her cheeks flushed, and you can’t help but smile down at her. “You okay?” you ask, brushing her hair out of her face.

“Yeah,” she whispers, her voice light, her eyes sparkling in the faint sliver of moonlight creeping through the window. Her hands slide up to your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Now kiss me.”

Then your mouth finds hers again, but this time it’s slower, deeper. Your hands roam, sliding down her sides, feeling the soft curve of her waist under the thin fabric of her shirt. She sighs into the kiss, her body relaxing beneath you as you press her into the mattress.

Breaking away from her lips, you start a trail of kisses down her jaw, your lips brushing over the delicate curve until you reach her neck. Her skin is warm and smells faintly of her vanilla body lotion, sweet and intoxicating. You breathe her in, unable to get enough, and press your mouth against her neck, kissing and nipping gently. Her head tilts back, giving you more access, and she lets out this tiny, breathy moan that goes straight to your core.

“God, you smell so good,” you murmur against her skin, your lips moving to her collarbone. She shivers under you, her hands gripping the back of your shirt.

“You always say that,” she whispers, her voice soft but laced with teasing.

“Because it’s true,” you reply, grinning as you kiss the hollow of her throat. She smells like comfort, like home, like something you could drown in and never get tired of. Every kiss draws another little sound from her—a sigh, a gasp, a quiet moan—and each one just spurs you on.

“I love you,” you whisper against her skin, the words tumbling out between kisses.

“I love you too,” she breathes, her voice trembling just slightly, like she’s overwhelmed.

Your hands slide up her sides, gathering the hem of her loose shirt. You pause for a second, giving her a look, then you pull it up, revealing her pale skin inch by inch. The cold air hits her, making her shiver, and you notice the goosebumps rising on her arms. “Cold?” you ask softly.

“A little,” she admits, but there’s a teasing glint in her eye. “You can warm me up, right?”

You smirk. “Oh, I’ve got that covered.”

Her shirt ends up somewhere on the floor, forgotten, as your eyes roam over her. Her chest rises and falls quickly, her breaths shallow, and her almost-flat breasts peek out from under her bra. You lean down, trailing kisses over her skin, starting at her stomach and working your way up, taking your time. Her breathing changes with every kiss, her chest heaving as you kiss the curve of her ribs, the dip between her breasts.

“You know I love these, right?” you murmur, your lips brushing over the top of her bra.

She rolls her eyes playfully, her cheeks flushing pink. “You’ve told me, like, a million times.”

“Yeah, but I never get tired of saying it,” you reply, slipping your fingers under the fabric and pulling the bra down enough to expose her. The cold air makes her nipples stiffen instantly, but your mouth is there a second later, warm and soft, replacing the chill with heat.

She gasps sharply, her back arching slightly as your lips close around her nipple. Your tongue flicks over the sensitive peak, and her hands fly to your hair, tangling in it as she pulls you closer. “God, that feels good,” she whispers, her voice shaky.

You hum against her skin, sucking gently, savoring the way her body reacts to every movement of your mouth. Your free hand slides up to her other breast, your fingers tracing lazy circles around the nipple before giving it a gentle pinch. She moans, her hips shifting under you, and you can feel the warmth of her thighs brushing against yours.

“You’re so perfect,” you say between kisses, moving to her other breast. “I could stay here forever.”

“Don’t say that,” she murmurs, her voice soft but full of emotion. “You’ll make me cry.”

You pause, looking up at her, your lips brushing against her skin. “Good tears or bad tears?”

She smiles down at you, her eyes shining. “Good ones.”

“Then I’ll keep going,” you whisper, lowering your mouth to her again.

Your mouth stays busy on her chest, sucking gently on her nipple while your tongue flicks over the hardened peak, earning another soft moan from her lips. Her fingers are tangled in your hair, tugging slightly whenever you suck harder. It’s like she’s melting under you, her body arching and squirming, her little sounds only encouraging you to keep going.

As your lips trail from one breast to the other, your hand starts to wander. It slides down the flat plane of her stomach, her skin warm and smooth beneath your touch. You pause for a moment, just long enough to feel the slight hitch in her breathing as your fingers reach the waistband of her shorts. You know she's watching you now, her eyes wide and dark, her lips parted like she’s waiting for what’s coming next.

You slip your hand under the fabric of her shorts and panties, your palm brushing against her hip, and immediately feel the heat radiating from her. When your fingers dip lower, the first thing you feel is how wet she already is. A low groan escapes your throat as your fingers slide over her slick folds, and you pull back just enough to murmur against her skin, “You’re soaked, baby.”

“Shut up,” she whispers, her cheeks flushed, but there’s no hiding the way her body reacts. Her hips shift instinctively, pressing herself against your hand, her breath coming out in quick, shaky bursts.

Your fingers glide over her, spreading her wetness as you find her clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles. Her body jerks slightly, a sharp gasp leaving her lips. “Oh my god,” she breathes, her head falling back against the pillow.

“Feel good?” you ask, though the way her thighs tremble and try to close around your hand is answer enough.

“Yes,” she whimpers, her voice soft and high-pitched, almost pleading. “Don’t stop.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” you say with a grin, dipping your head back down to her chest. Your lips latch onto her nipple again, sucking harder this time, your teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to make her squirm. At the same time, your fingers slide lower, slipping into her tight, dripping hole.

“Fuck,” you groan against her skin as you feel how warm and snug she is around your fingers. “You’re so fucking tight, baby.”

She lets out a choked moan, her hands flying to your shoulders, clutching you as your fingers start to move. Slow at first, pumping in and out of her while your thumb circles her clit. Her body reacts instantly, her hips rocking to meet your hand, her moans growing louder with every thrust.

“God, you’re amazing,” you murmur, kissing her chest, her neck, her jaw. “So fucking perfect.”

She’s trembling now, her breathing ragged as you pick up the pace. Your fingers curl inside her, finding that spot that makes her gasp and cling to you like her life depends on it. “Right there,” she cries out, her nails digging into your skin. “Fuck, don’t stop, right there.”

“Anything for you,” you whisper, your voice low and thick with desire. Your thumb presses harder against her clit, and you feel her walls tighten around your fingers, her body tensing. Her moans are louder now, more desperate, her head tossing back as her legs start to shake.

It’s all too much for her—your mouth on her breasts, your fingers buried deep in her slick pussy, pumping and curling just right. Every time you move, every time you kiss her skin, her little moans grow louder, her hips rocking against your hand like she can’t get enough. Her nails dig into your shoulders as she gasps for air, her voice breaking into shaky little whimpers.

But even with all that, it’s not enough for her. She can feel the weight of your cock pressing against her thigh, thick and heavy, the heat of it radiating through your pants. It’s driving her insane. Her hips jerk erratically, chasing a friction that isn’t there, and her head tilts back as she lets out a desperate, needy moan.

“Babe,” she whines, her voice trembling, almost pathetic with how desperate she sounds. “I need you. Please. I need it.”

Her words make your cock throb, the sheer hunger in her tone lighting a fire in your chest. You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as you look down at her. “You need what?” you ask, teasing, though your voice is rough, your own need barely held in check.

She groans in frustration, her cheeks flushed, her thighs trembling. “You know what I need!” she cries, her hands sliding down your chest, trying to tug at the waistband of your pants. “Please, I need your cock. I can’t wait anymore.”

The way she’s begging, her voice cracking with need, only makes you harder. Your fingers slow their pace inside her, and she whimpers at the loss of momentum, squirming beneath you. “You really want it that bad?” you murmur, pulling your hand out of her and holding it up before putting two fingers in your mouth to taste it. “You’re dripping for me, baby.”

“Yes!” she gasps, her hands fumbling with the button of your pants now, her impatience clear in every movement. “Please, just—just fuck me already. I need you.”

Her begging snaps what little control you were holding onto. “Alright,” you growl, sitting back on your knees and shoving your pants down. You don’t bother with underwear—you’re not wearing any—and your cock springs free, thick and hard, the tip already glistening with precum. Dahyun's small hand immediately wraps around your cock, stroking it lightly, her breath catching.

“You’re so big,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

“Then come and get it,” you reply, leaning back against the headboard, your cock resting against your stomach, throbbing with anticipation.

She doesn’t hesitate. Her hands go to her back, unclasping her bra and letting it fall to the floor. Her shorts follow along with her panties, and now she’s naked, her pale skin glowing in the darkness. She’s perfect, every curve, every line of her body making your mouth water.

You grab her hips as she climbs onto your lap, straddling you, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of your thighs. “You sure you can handle it?” you tease, your hands sliding down to cup her ass, squeezing the soft flesh.

“Shut up,” she mutters. “I need it.”

Her hands grip your shoulders as she tries to position herself, her body brushing against yours in the process. You can feel the heat of her pussy against your cock, and it makes you groan, your hands tightening on her hips.

“It’s hard to see,” she murmurs, frustration creeping into her tone as she shifts, trying to line herself up in the dark.

“Take your time, baby,” you say, though your voice is strained. Every time her slick folds brush against your cock, it sends a jolt of electricity through you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Finally, she finds the angle she needs, and you both moan as the tip of your cock presses against her entrance. Slowly, she starts to sink down, her tight pussy stretching around you inch by inch.

“Fuck,” she gasps, her head falling forward, her nails digging into your shoulders as she lowers herself. “You’re so... fucking... big.”

“You’re so tight,” you groan, your hands gripping her hips as you try not to buck up into her. The heat and wetness of her pussy, the way it clenches around you, makes it almost impossible to stay still. “God, you feel so good.”

She’s breathing hard, her thighs trembling as she takes more of you, her pussy stretching to accommodate your girth. It’s slow, almost torturous, but finally, she’s seated all the way down, her ass resting against your thighs. She lets out a shaky moan of relief, her head falling back as her body adjusts to the fullness.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her voice shaky. “You’re so deep... I can feel you everywhere.”

You tilt your head back, groaning as her walls flutter around you. “You’re perfect,” you murmur, your hands sliding up her sides, holding her steady as she starts to move. “Ride me, baby. Show me how much you need it.”

The moment Dahyun starts moving, you know you’re in trouble. She wastes no time, her hips rolling and bouncing, her tight, wet pussy gripping you like a fucking vice. It’s almost overwhelming—how snug she is, how her heat wraps around you, dragging you deeper with every thrust. Even in the dark, with the only light coming from the occasional flicker of lightning outside, you don’t need to see her to know she looks incredible. Her small, pale body moving on top of you, her thighs trembling as she rides you like her life depends on it—you can feel it all, and it’s driving you insane.

“Fuck,” you groan, your hands gripping her hips, guiding her movements as she starts to pick up speed. “You’re so fucking tight, baby.”

Her moans grow louder, higher-pitched, the sound raw and needy as she rocks her hips against you. Her hands are braced on your chest, her nails digging in for leverage as she moves. “God,” she whimpers, her voice shaky but insistent. “You’re so big. So fucking thick. I can feel you stretching me out.”

Your cock throbs at her words, a low growl rumbling in your chest. She always says shit like that, like she knows exactly how to get under your skin, how to push you closer to the edge. And fuck, it works every time. “You love it, don’t you?” you mutter, your voice rough. “You love how my cock fills you up.”

“Yes,” she cries out, her pace quickening, the wet sound of her pussy taking you echoing through the room. “I love it so much. I’m fucking addicted to it. To you.”

Her confession makes your grip on her hips tighten, your fingers digging into her soft flesh as you help guide her movements. You can feel her tight little ass rubbing against your pelvis with every bounce, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. “You feel so fucking good, Dahyun,” you groan, your head tilting back as she keeps going. “I can never get enough of you.”

The rain outside seems to be coming down harder, the sound of it pounding against the windows mixing with the slap of her skin against yours. Thunder rolls through the sky, loud and sharp, but neither of you pays it any attention. She’s too focused on the way your cock fills her, and you’re too caught up in the way her pussy clenches around you, milking you like she never wants to let go.

“You’re so deep,” she moans, her voice breaking slightly as she leans forward, her breath hot against your neck. “I can feel you... fuck, I can feel you in my stomach.”

Her words make your cock twitch, and you glance down, even in the dim light, knowing exactly what she’s talking about. She’s so small, her frame so petite, that every time you’re buried inside her, you can see the faint outline of your cock bulging in her lower belly. It’s fucking intoxicating, knowing how much you fill her, how her tiny body takes you so perfectly.

“Look at that,” you murmur, your hand sliding between you to press gently against her stomach. She lets out a choked gasp, her hips stuttering for a moment as she feels the added pressure. “You feel that? That’s me, baby. That’s my cock inside you.”

“Fuck,” she whimpers, her voice high and shaky. “I feel it... I love it. I love how big you are. How you stretch me out.”

“Keep going,” you tell her, your hands moving back to her hips, urging her to keep moving. “Ride me, baby. Don’t stop.”

She doesn’t need any more encouragement. Her pace quickens again, her hips slamming down onto you with a desperate rhythm. Her moans grow louder, more frantic, the sound mixing with the rain and thunder as she completely loses herself in the feeling of you. Her thighs are trembling against your sides, her body working overtime to take all of you, but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down.

“God, you’re amazing,” you groan, your hands roaming up and down her body, over her ribs, her waist, her thighs. “You’re so fucking perfect, Dahyun. I could watch you do this all night.”

“Then don’t stop watching,” she gasps, her voice breathless but teasing. “I’ll ride you as long as you want.”

And fuck, she means it. Even though you haven’t cum yet, and neither has she, the way she’s moving, the way her pussy grips you like she never wants to let you go—it’s enough to make you feel like you could lose it at any second. But you hold on, watching as she keeps going, her moans and gasps filling the room as she rides you like there’s no tomorrow.

Dahyun’s movements are growing more frantic now, her slim body bouncing on your cock with wild abandon. Her moans are louder, breathless and unrestrained, filling the room as her hips slap against yours. The wet, messy sounds of her tight pussy taking you echo beneath the storm outside, the rain beating against the windows a steady, distant drum. Her small hands cling to your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as she rides you like she can’t get enough.

“Fuck, baby,” you groan, your hands gripping her waist to steady her. “You’re so fucking good. Keep going, just like that.”

Her moans hitch, turning higher-pitched as she leans back slightly, her head tilting toward the ceiling. “It’s so good,” she whimpers, her voice shaky. “You’re so big—I feel so full.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your fingers pressing harder into her hips. “You like how my cock stretches you, don’t you?”

“Yes!” she cries out, her pace quickening as her thighs tremble around you. “I love it. I love you. It’s too much, I’m—” Her words break off into a sharp gasp, her body shuddering as she continues to bounce, every movement sending jolts of pleasure through both of you.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” you murmur, your voice rough and low as you watch her fall apart on top of you.

She nods frantically, her hands sliding up to your chest as she leans forward, her petite frame trembling with every movement. “So close,” she breathes, her voice almost a sob. “I can’t—oh god, I’m gonna—”

“Come here,” you interrupt, your voice firm but gentle as you pull her closer. She leans down, her breasts brushing against your chest, her flushed face inches from yours. You catch her lips in a messy, desperate kiss, your hands sliding up her back to hold her against you. She moans into your mouth, her hips still rocking against yours as you take over.

“I’m gonna make you cum,” you whisper against her lips, your breath hot and heavy. “Hold on tight, baby.”

With that, you adjust your legs on the bed, planting your feet for better leverage. Your hands move to her hips, holding her steady as you start to thrust up into her, hard and fast. The first deep, powerful stroke makes her cry out, her body jolting against yours.

“Oh my god!” she gasps, her voice high-pitched and trembling as you pound into her tight, soaking pussy.

“You like that?” you growl, your thrusts relentless as you drive into her over and over, each one hitting deeper, harder, making her walls squeeze around you like a vice.

“Yes! Yes, fuck, yes!” she screams, her head dropping onto your shoulder as her nails rake down your back. “I love it! Don’t stop—please don’t stop!”

Her moans are louder now, right in your ear, and fuck, it’s exactly what you need. The sound of her losing herself, the way her voice breaks with every thrust, sends a thrill through you. “That’s it,” you murmur, your lips brushing against her ear. “Keep moaning for me, baby. Let me hear how good it feels.”

She doesn’t hold back, her cries spilling out freely as you keep slamming into her, your cock hitting her deep, her pussy clenching tighter with every thrust. “It’s so good,” she babbles, her words slurring together. “You’re so good, so big, I can’t—I’m gonna—oh god, I’m gonna—”

“Come on, Dahyun,” you urge her, your voice low and rough. “Let go. Cum for me. I want to feel you.”

Her body stiffens suddenly, her back arching as she lets out a sharp, broken cry. “Oh fuck!” she screams, her walls clamping down around you as she finally falls over the edge. Her whole body shakes, her hips jerking erratically as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her.

You keep thrusting into her, your cock buried to the hilt as her orgasm rips through her. Her pussy clenches around you in rhythmic pulses, so tight it’s almost painful, but you don’t stop. You grind deeper, chasing that sweet friction even as she squirms, her breath hitching in overstimulated gasps.

“Too much—too much,” she whines, her voice cracking, but her hips jerk forward anyway, betraying her. You can’t see her face in the dark, but you know she’s rolling her eyes—that mix of annoyed and amused she always gets when you push her past her limits.

“You love it,” you growl, slowing just enough to let her catch her breath, your hands pinning her trembling thighs wide. Her skin is slick with sweat, the air thick with the musky scent of sex and her vanilla lotion.

She collapses against your chest, panting, her heartbeat wild against yours. “You’re… insane,” she mutters, but there’s a laugh tangled in her words. Her fingers trace lazy circles on your shoulder, shaky but still teasing.

You smirk, brushing damp hair from her forehead. “Not even close to done with you.”

Before she can protest, you flip her onto her back, the mattress groaning as you loom over her. Her legs instinctively wrap around your waist, heels digging into your ass like she’s already begging for more. The faint glow of lightning spills through the curtains, illuminating her flushed face, her lips swollen from kissing, her eyes dark and hungry.

“Gonna fuck you until I fill you up,” you say, voice rough. Your cock twitches, still rock-hard, leaking precum inside her pussy. “You want that? Want me to cum deep inside you?”

Her breath hitches. She bites her lip, her hips tilt upward, inviting. “Yes,” she whispers, then louder, desperate: “Fuck, yes—please, I need it. Need you to—ah—!”

You don’t let her finish. You slam into her, one brutal thrust that steals her voice, her back arching off the bed. She’s so fucking wet, her pussy swollen and sensitive from her first orgasm, but she takes you greedily, her nails raking down your spine.

“Harder,” she demands, her legs tightening around you. “Don’t fucking hold back—give it to me.”

You oblige. Your hips piston into her, the slap of skin echoing beneath the storm’s dying growls. Every snap of your pelvis drags a broken moan from her throat, her walls fluttering around you like she’s trying to milk you dry. She’s a mess—hair tangled, chest heaving, tears clinging to her lashes from the intensity—but she’s yours, unraveling again under your hands.

“You feel that?” you grunt, driving deeper, your balls slapping against her ass. “Gonna pump you so full, you’ll drip for days.”

She whimpers, her head thrashing against the pillow. “Do it—fuck, cum in me—I want it, want you—”

You feel it first in your balls—that coiled, electric tension snapping tight as Dahyun’s pussy milks you, her walls fluttering like a fucking vice around your cock. “Gonna cum,” you warn, voice shredded, hips stuttering as you drive into her one last time. She claws at your back, her moans pitching higher. “Do it—fill me up, please—!”

Your release hits like a detonation—thick, pulsing ropes of cum surging deep into her. You groan, low and guttural, as you pump her full, your cock twitching with every hot jet that floods her tight pink cunt. She gasps, her legs shaking where they’re hooked around your waist, her nails digging crescent moons into your skin. “Fuck,” she whimpers, her voice breaking, “it’s so hot—I can feel it—”

You grind your hips harder, burying yourself to the root as your cum spills into her, the wet slap of your skin against hers echoing in the dark. Her pussy clenches greedily, sucking every drop from you, her breath coming in ragged hitches as you fill her. “That’s it,” you rasp, your forehead pressed to hers, “take it all, baby. Take all my fucking cum.”

She keens, her back arching off the mattress as your cum leaks around your cock, dripping down her thighs. The smell of sex—musky and sweet—hangs thick in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of rain still clinging to the windows. You collapse onto her, both of you slick with sweat, your chests heaving as you ride out the aftershocks.

Minutes later, the room is quieter the storm outside reduced to a soft, distant hum. Dahyun’s curled into your side, her head resting on your chest, her breath warm and steady against your skin. Your cum is still leaking out of her, pooling between her thighs and staining the sheets, but neither of you care. The mess is part of it—part of this, the raw, unfiltered intimacy that comes after.

You run your fingers through her hair, the strands silky and damp with sweat. She hums softly, her body melting into yours, her legs tangled with yours under the covers. “You good?” you ask, your voice low and rough, but tender.

She tilts her head up to look at you, her big brown eyes glazed but content. “Mm. Better than good,” she murmurs, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. “You?”

“Never better,” you say, brushing a thumb over her cheek. She leans into the touch, her skin warm and flushed.

Her hand trails down your chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns over your abs. “You know,” she starts, her voice teasing, “you’re kinda insufferable when you’re all… post-sex smug.”

You snort, pulling her closer. “Says the girl who just begged me to fill her up.”

She smacks your chest lightly, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Shut up,” she mutters, though her cheeks flush pink. “I was vulnerable.”

“Uh-huh.” You press a kiss to her forehead, your lips lingering against her skin. “And now you’re not scared of the storm anymore, huh?”

She glances toward the window, where the rain taps gently against the glass. “What storm?” she says, her tone light and playful. “I don’t even remember what I was scared of.”

You chuckle, your hand sliding down to rest on her hip. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not letting you go anywhere tonight.”

She shifts slightly, her body pressing even closer to yours, her warmth seeping into your skin. “Like I’d want to,” she mumbles, her voice muffled against your chest.

You smile, your fingers tracing lazy circles on her back. The room smells like sex and rain, the air thick with the kind of quiet that only comes after something real. Her heartbeat syncs with yours, steady and slow, and for a moment, the world feels perfect.

“You’re my favorite,” she says suddenly, her voice soft but sure.

You glance down at her, raising an eyebrow. “Favorite what?”

“Everything,” she says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Back at you, Dahyunnie,” you murmur, pressing another kiss to her hair.

She sighs, content, her body relaxing completely against yours. Outside, the storm fades into nothing, but inside, it’s just her warmth, your arms, and the quiet promise of more nights like this.

[oopsiedaisydeer]

manhandle me

smut, manhandling, oral (f!receiving), p in v, semi-public (bathroom), jealousy, possessiveness, mild hair pulling

word count - 1.9k

Chris knows Dolly.

Knows how to move her. Hold her. 

Handle her. Throw her.

Touch her.

So why is she keeping her distance tonight?

He had kind of assumed that even though she was busy last night, they’d see each other tonight. Find their way to each other, like they always did. 

That was the only reason he was here. He didn’t really like going out. Too many bodies, sweaty and disorganised. He always drank too much to cope with the discomfort, and then people started getting on his nerves, and before Chris knew it, he was swinging.

That was sometimes worth it, when she’d look into his eyes afterwards, cleaning the cuts on his knuckles, and he knew, knew somewhere deep in his bones, what was going to happen next. How it was going to feel. Sliding into her warm, wet mouth, easing away the pain in that language, the rhythm that seemed so easy, felt so good between them.

She’s too far from him tonight. Not that he’s the possessive type. But she’s his, and he knows that. They both do. 

Because Chris knows that she gets wet whenever his hands are on her. Grabbing her by the waist and moving her, like a body moves through water, easy, pliant, relaxed. Randomly picking her up when she can’t reach something on the top shelf, and then tugging her to the bedroom, kissing her all the way, because he’s impatient, because she’s already soaked.

Also knows that she loves it when he gets protective. Physical but not violent. Picking her up, guiding her away, away, away. Away from those people, the ones he doesn’t like, the cocky assholes. Not that he isn’t one, but they’re annoying. Dolly doesn’t belong with them. She belongs with him. Under him. On top of him. 

With him.

Not that this dude needs to know any of that. He just needs to know to steer clear.

He’s been watching them from across the room, this guy leaning closer and closer to Dolly, an ugly smile spreading across his face as Chris grips his cup tighter and tighter. He probably smells like beer and bad cologne. She probably hates it.

He’s been flirting with her, sweet talking her for the past twenty, creeping ever so nearer to her, now with one hand lightly brushing the end of her braid, and that makes the blood in Chris’s veins boil, because her hair is his to touch. Just like her face is his, her body is his. She’s his.

It’s not that Dolly is uncomfortable, although she’s definitely not going to go home with the guy. And Chris knows better, knows he should just stay where he is, wait for her to come to him, but he just can’t anymore. Can’t wait for the other guy to know better. 

Chris can’t just stand there, and, and just, just watch.

So he puts his cup of soda down on the nearest surface and marches up to them, Dolly eyeing him, full of quiet warning and promise. 

She barely has time to part her lips before he’s there, a quiet warning, quiet question on her lips, please?, all in one look. His arm snakes around her waist roughly, the other slipping down her thigh with intention, claiming her in front of this stupid, clueless man. 

“C’mere, Dolly," he whispers down her neck.

“Hey,” the guy starts, brows lifting. “We were talking!”

“Chris, don't–” she starts, but it’s too late.

He grabs her without ceremony, strong arms scooping her right off the floor like she weighs nothing, tossing her up and over his shoulder. Her skirt hikes. Her gasp is sharp and startled, palms smacking against his back, braid swinging with each step as he carries her off like a prize.

“Put me down,” she hisses, but she’s blushing. She clutches at the fabric of his hoodie, pressing her thighs together, knowing exactly where this is going.

“Nope,” he says casually, like he’s done this a hundred times. “Too busy teaching your new little friend boundaries.”

A slam of the bathroom door. A twist of the lock.

Then Chris has her up against the wall before she can say another word. One hand at her neck, just holding, thumb grazing her jaw. The other pushes her skirt up slow… teasing, possessive. A greedy palm slides over her ass, fingers digging into the crease just enough to make her squirm.

“You let him touch your hair?” he asks, voice low, breath warm. “You think that shit’s funny?”

Her breath hitches. “You were ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t,” he says, mouth grazing her jaw, pressing her back harder as he grinds his hips against her. “I was watching. Trying to be good. You were being a brat.”

One hand grips her thigh, the other tilts her face up.

“I should make you say sorry,” he murmurs, breath hot against her skin. 

“But I’d rather make you come instead.”

He presses her back harder, grinds his hips against her. “You knew I was waiting, especially after you ghosted me the other night.”

Her breath catches. She had known. “I was busy–”, she begins, but he cuts her off again.

“I should spank you,” he mutters, grabbing a fistful of her ass, dragging her hips flush to his. “Make it so you can’t sit through brunch tomorrow.”

Then he spins her, bends her forward over the sink with a roughness that makes her moan, quietly desperate. His hand snakes between her thighs, and he groans when he feels her.

“Already dripping?” he grits. “Fucking knew it. My girl gets wet just from me looking at her.”

He spreads her gently, fingers filthy and slow, pressing where he knows she’s sensitive. His other hand reaches for her braid, winding it tight around his fist and tugging her head back with a smirk.

“I should leave you like this,” he says against her ear. “All pretty and needy. Maybe let that guy get a look at what he won’t be touching.”

“Chris, please,” she whimpers, grinding back against him, shameless.

And he groans, pressing a kiss to the back of her shoulder.

“Nah,” he breathes. “Patience.”

He drops to his knees behind her, mouth already trailing open kisses along her thighs, tongue teasing just where she needs it. His hands keep her still… big, warm, a little rough, palming her doughy soft skin and keeping her spread for him.

“You gonna say thank you?” he murmurs against the inside of her thigh, voice thick, eyes dark. “For rescuing you?”

She whines, shifting her hips back, needy. “You’re so dramatic.”

Chris grins. “That’s not a thank you.”

He kisses the dip where her thigh meets her pussy, then drags his tongue slow, hot, deliberate, flattening it against her until she gasps and grabs the edge of the counter. His hands hold her firm, thumbs spreading her open as he eats her out. 

Like he’s starving, like he’s proving something.

Dolly trembles, soft and slick against his mouth, braid hanging loose, unravelling places, swung over her shoulder as she tries not to cry out. One of his hands slips up, palm flat on her back to hold her down, keep her still, while the other keeps her spread, just how he likes her.

“You taste like mine,” he mutters, breath hot between her thighs. “All sweet and messy.”

She makes a strangled sound, hips twitching.

“You like that?” he asks, lips brushing her swollen clit. “Me talking with my mouth full?”

“Shut up,” she gasps.

He chuckles, low and wicked, then sucks hard and slow until her knees start to give.

“Mm, you love it,” he says, and she does. Of course she does.

And just when she’s right on the edge, when her thighs start to shake, he pulls back.

“Chris–” she whines, voice breaking.

He’s already standing, already undoing his belt, pupils blown wide and mouth slick from her. He strokes himself once, twice, then grabs her hips and lines up.

“You were gonna let him touch you,” he says, more possessive than angry. “You let him look at you like that.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she whimpers, but her voice is too breathy, too turned on. “I never do.”

“You wore this little skirt,” he mutters, dragging the head of his cock through her slick folds, teasing her entrance. “You knew I’d see it.”

“I didn’t wear it for him–”

He thrusts into her in one smooth, hard motion, and she gasps, hands flying to brace against the mirror. Chris groans into the crook of her neck, his chest pressed to her back as he bottoms out.

“You wore it for me,” he says, hips snapping forward. “Say it.”

She nods, breathless. “Wore it for you.”

“Damn right you did,” he growls.

He fucks her slow and deep at first, letting her feel every inch, one hand tangled in her braid, the other gripping her hip so tight she knows she’ll feel it tomorrow. His rhythm builds fast, rougher with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping echoing off the tiles, as he leans in to nip at her shoulder, to whisper filth into her skin.

“Fuck,” he groans, thrusting deep again, harder. “You love being tossed around, huh?”

She gasps, nodding helplessly, all flushed cheeks and glossy eyes. “Mhm,” she manages to get out.

He laughs, breathless. “You’re like my own little ragdoll, just for me.”

He doesn’t even need to say it. The way his hands move her, confident, practiced, like she’s made to be handled, says everything.

And Dolly, soft little thing that she is, lives for it. For the way he’s moving her without asking. The way he picked her up before like it was nothing. Puts her where he wants her, where she wants to be, bent, breathless, pliant in his grip. He fills her up so good, warm, thick, the drag of a prominent vein making her stomach flutter.

She melts for it. Gets even more wet from the way he grabs her hips to steer her. Moans when he grabs her jaw to kiss her just how he likes, a little too hard, a little too needy. Whimpers when he manhandles her into another position, one hand on her lower back, the other fisting her braid like a rope.

And Chris, he’s obsessed with how easily she lets him. Like her whole body wants to be moved. Like his hands are the only ones who know how to. She squeezes around him, velvet and vice, and he nearly loses it. Nothing else ever feels like this. Nothing ever could.

“You gonna come for me, Dolly?” he pants. “Gonna come on my cock like a good girl?”

She nods, helpless, fucked-out already. “Y-yes, Chris, please.”

And he loses it a little at that, hips slamming into her as he fucks her through it, her body trembling under him as she falls apart, moaning into the bathroom vanity. He holds her tight, keeps her grounded, even as her legs shake and she cries out his name like it’s the only thing she remembers.

He follows close behind, biting down on her shoulder as he spills inside her, hand clamped over her mouth. Because he loves the way she moans into his palm, nothing getting him off harder than those desperate, muffled little sounds.

Afterwards, he doesn’t pull out right away. Just keeps her pressed to the counter, kissing her neck, her cheek, her temple, soft and reverent and slow.

“You good?” he murmurs, smiling as he brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

She hums. “You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah,” he grins. “But I’m yours.”

And Dolly doesn’t argue with that. Because she’s his. 

His perfect, pretty ragdoll. Just how he likes her.

dividers by @enchanthings ꨄ

a/n: aaaaa i feel really good about this so i hope you all enjoy xx

credits: thank you @strnilolover for this idea!! love u gabby <3

thanks for reading!!!!!!!! likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

[cosmal]

beer pong — send me a lyric + a character n i’ll write u a blurb

ok soo this line from means something by lizzy: ‘I felt the way that you kissed me, when we got too drunk that night, and that has to mean something’ with remus perhaps!!!

drunk mistakes

content remus lupin x reader

summary you kiss remus, drunk, at a party. the next time you see him you have some things to say.

note okay cocky remus is my fav remus im sorry!!!! But also thank u for Remus n Lizzy mal omg rahhhhh

You can hear Remus laughing from the kitchen.

You sit with Lily and Mary but you're not really listening. You hope they're not talking to you, Remus's laugh is like music to your ears.

"Hello?" Mary waves her hand infront of your face and you blink. You have it in you to look embarrassed but you don't feel it.

"Sorry," you clear your throat. "What did you say?"

"We're going to the kitchen to do shots." Lily says, smiling, "You're coming."

"I've had four margarita's," you tell them, but still let them lift you from the couch. "One more drink and I might end up in the peonies like Frank did last time."

"Lucky its not a drink," Mary says and takes you by the hand, "it's a shot!"

You let them guide you into the kitchen and you can't help but look for Remus immediately. You feel a little silly when he's not looking back.

You stand back as they fill glasses with way too much black sambuca. You hope if you stay behind them, they won't even remember to pour you a shot.

You look up from the mess of liquour on the bench top and watch Remus turn and make his way to the front hallway. You think about following him and can't find the courage to move your feet. But then James is trying to pass you a shot and you move without thinking.

Remus is sitting in one of the balcony seats when you find him. The warm light from the bulb above him casts him amber where looks down at the drink in his lap.

"I was hoping you'd follow me out here," he says. He doesn't look up from his glass.

You want to laugh. "Am I supposed to be a mind reader now?"

"No," Remus is stern. "I just know you too well."

This time a snort makes it way from your nose and you tamp it down. "You've known me a month, tops."

"I've known my friends since first year, they've never had their tongue down my throat." He turns to look at you finally, there's a glint in his eyes you haven't seen yet. A month, you remind yourself.

You choke. You don't know what to say, partially because he's right. "I know for a fact, Sirius Black has had his way with you."

He laughs into the tequila-soda he has pressed against his mouth and shakes his head. You don't know what to do with yourself, you didn't think about what you'd do once you were out here — you never even thought you'd be left alone with Remus again.

"Are you gonna sit down?" Right, yeah.

You sit beside him, and you're painfully aware of how close you are —close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body, but not close enough to bridge the ache growing in your chest.

You want to lean in, just enough to feel his breath stir against your skin, to know if he’d flinch or freeze or maybe, just maybe, lean in too.

But it's like he's afraid of being known too well or touched too deeply. He holds himself in quiet tension, a soft-spoken mystery wrapped in secondhand sweaters and lingering glances that say nothing and everything all at once.

You haven’t spent much time with him — less than you’d like to admit, given how often he slips into your thoughts, uninvited but never unwelcome. Still, every moment near him feels like a held breath, like something on the edge of becoming.

"Not drinking anymore?" He asks. He presses the bottom of his glass against your bare thigh, leaving a line of condenstation up against your skin.

"I don't want a repeat of last time," you laugh. You're covered in goosebumps — from the cold drink or his presence, you're not sure.

"Last time was fun!" You know what he means. "I like drunk you."

You sometimes wonder if Remus will only ever kiss you when there’s just enough liquor in both your veins to kill a horse. Not because he doesn’t want to — no, you feel it in the way his eyes linger, in the quiet moments where his hand almost reaches for yours. He's doing it right now. But you don’t know what hurts more, that he might only reach for you when he's not entirely himself, or that you’d still let him.

He's staring at the side of your face and it burns. You can't bring yourself to look at him. Not when you can picture the way he's looking back at you. With soft eyes and an even softer smile. A boy with a face like that might kill you if he tried hard enough.

"Drunk me does dumb shit."

He turns away and you're half relieved, half disapointed. You're not sure if liquid courage is a bad thing or not. One more margarita and you might have enough confidence to at least look him in the eyes. You hate him for making you so nervous.

"Kissing me was dumb?"

You blink, and then swallow so hard that it hurts. "No," you mumble, and then, louder, "No, kissing you wasn't dumb. Me falling asleep on Mary's bathroom floor, that was dumb."

Remus chuckles. "Right. Okay, good."

"You were drunk too."

There's a beat of slience, only laughter from inside, and the crickets in the grass are to be heard. "I'm not drunk right now."

You're not exactly sure when Remus ended up so close. You’d been so careful about keeping your distance, watching where you sat. Maybe you were too focused on staying away to notice him getting closer.

"I'm not going to let you kiss me again just to end up drunk at another party, right back in this same situation."

Remus is already leaning in, his hand is already reaching for your face. "I'll kiss you whenever you want me to." His hands are cold, you don't care. You wonder if his lips are the same. "Tequila or not, I'll kiss you whenever."

[pnghoon]

심재윤ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⨾ 󠀠ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤwho knows? i might let you make me juno.

(🎼) ── 𝓢IM JAEYUN [제이크] ⁞ ㅤㅤ𝓰. fluff, crack, married au, humor, suggestive???ㅤㅤ୨୧ㅤㅤ warnings : est. relationship, not proofread, skinship, kissing, suggestive themes but nothing crazy, pet-namesㅤ⟡ㅤ!nonidol hubby !ikeu 𝔁 fem baby fever wife !reader ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤᯓ ꒰ wc : 1.6k꒱ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsynopsis .ᐟ in which your husband seems to be painfully clueless to your advances... ── 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ᡣ𐭩

juno's note ─ hehehehehehehhe i feel the baby kicking in me already while writing this!!! /j if you enjoyed reading this, please be sure to like & reblog !! ♡

you weren’t really sure when the baby fever started.

maybe it was that day your adorable niece fell asleep on your chest. or maybe it was when you passed by a store window and saw the tiniest pair of shoes imaginable, and your ovaries staged a coup. either way, it was happening.

the problem was: your husband. sim jaeyun, jake sim, seemed to think nothing of it. zero. zilch. absolutely no thoughts. you were starting to think your husband had no peripheral vision. either that or he had unlocked a state of zen so deep that even a flashing neon sign reading "put a baby in me" wouldn’t disrupt the peace in his goldfish-level intellect.

you wanted it. so bad. the whole messy, sleep-deprived, snack-packing, lullaby-singing adventure. and honestly? you figured jake would be on the same page.

he was not on the same page. jake wasn’t even in the bookstore.

you had tried everything.

you would bring up themes of raising a child any chance you could. even before bed when the lights were off. hell, you even started buying books about the jovial moments of motherhood. but still--nothing.

you were sure jake wasn’t dumb. i mean, the man built ikea furniture without the instructions once. he knew how to calculate the tip before the bill even hit the table. he even explained quantum tunneling to you using gummy bears and a freshly opened cereal box.

so why--just why--was he so blissfully, frustratingly, and painfully oblivious to the fact that you wanted a damn baby.

not a dog. not a car. not a plant. a full-fledged, tiny little version of the two of you.

you started simple.

"you ever wonder what our kid would look like?" you asked over breakfast one morning, twirling your spoon in your cereal while leaving no room for misinterpretation.

jake blinked up from his pancakes, "huh? oh, i dunno. maybe a mix of us? or like, 75% me, 25% you. no offense, baby, but my genetics are kinda elite."

you stared.

he kissed your forehead and stole your toast.

and that’s when you knew. it wasn’t cluelessness. it was arrogance. delusion. you married a mad man who thought his genetics were too good not to dominate the gene pool.

you glared at his retreating back as he happily munched on your toast, muttering something about "dominant jawlines" and "superior hair texture." you were this close to calling his mother and asking if he had always been this dense, or if marriage had fried his brain.

but you weren’t a quitter.

and if your husband wouldn’t see the signs? well, maybe it was time to make the signs a little harder to ignore.

you had it displayed on the coffee table like it was fine art. "nurture: a modern guide to pregnancy, birth, early motherhood--and trusting yourself and your body" the book was simple, with a soft off-white backdrop and a circular peachy hue design in the center.

you left it in the bathroom. nothing.

you left it on the coffee table. crickets.

you even left it on the kitchen island near his morning coffee. he used it as a coaster.

you felt like you were slowly losing your mind.

then one evening, you walked into the bedroom to find jake lounging with the book open on his lap.

you felt your pulse quicken.

"oh my god, you’re reading it?" you gasped, your excitement bubbling over like a shaken soda can.

he looked up, a soft smile on his face. "yeah, babe. it’s actually really insightful. i didn’t realize how much there is to know."

you pressed a hand to your chest, feeling like you might faint. "so... you’ve been thinking about it? about everything?"

he blinked at you, a confused expression crossing his face. "what? oh, no, i just had it here while i was eating snacks. It made a great surface for my chips, and the book’s sturdy--didn’t want to ruin it."

you stood frozen in the doorway, utterly speechless, as he nonchalantly reached for the bowl of chips sitting on top of your cherished book.

you considered divorce for exactly 2.5 seconds.

maybe you had to up the stakes.

every friday, you and jake had a movie night ritual. you’d alternate picking movies, and each time, you’d "accidentally" pick a movie that had a subtle theme of parenthood or babies--mostly romantic comedies with happy, chaotic families. but this particular friday night? you were taking no chances.

"so what do you want to watch?" jake asked, sprawling out on the couch, his arm slung over the backrest like he was ready for a good nap.

"oh, i was thinking we could watch baby mama tonight," you suggested, trying to sound casual as you pretended to scroll through the streaming options.

jake raised an eyebrow, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "that’s a classic, huh?"

"yeah, classic," you nodded proudly, pretending not to notice his lack of enthusiasm. "it's about two women and their...well, you know, their journey to becoming parents. super funny stuff."

he looked at you, still oblivious. "cool, sounds like a real feel-good movie. i'm all in."

as the movie played, you shot him a sly glance. "don’t you think babies are the cutest? i mean, especially when they giggle."

"yeah, babies are cool," he mumbled dismissively, munching on popcorn, clearly more interested in the snack than the conversation.

you sighed dramatically, thinking maybe, just maybe, this would be the night he'd catch on. but jake? nope. he just laughed at the jokes and passed the popcorn as if nothing had changed.

you sat there, defeated for the moment. you made a mental note to yourself: this wasn’t over.

you figured maybe you weren’t being direct enough. maybe you needed to turn the heat up.

and by heat, you meant lingerie.

the baby pink kind. with lace. and frills.

and little bows that screamed "breeder."

you strutted into the bedroom like a temptress straight out of a romcom, all hip sway and bedroom eyes.

he looked up from his sudoku puzzle and blinked. "woah. what’s the occasion?"

you leaned in, draped your arms around his shoulders, and whispered, "just thinking it might be fun to… try something new."

his eyes lit up.

progress.

he smirked. "ooh, like sudoku together?"

you nearly ripped your bow off and strangled him with it.

you were starting to get restless. either jake had a brain the size of a peanut or he just didn't like the idea of having a child with you.

you felt like you’d tried everything. baby books, baby movies, leaving your laptop open with your carter's cart filled with tiny onesies out on the coffee table. you even went as far as to borrowing your friend’s toddler for an afternoon. what did jake think? the second you walked in with chubby little noah propped on your hip, his eyes went wide. he stared at you like you’d just kidnapped a random baby--glancing nervously toward the door as if expecting the cops to burst in any second.

but despite all of it, the weird thing was--he was still the same jake. still kissed your forehead every morning. still left cute little notes in your lunch. still brought you that weirdly specific strawberry lemonade you liked without asking.

you knew he loved you. deeply. fully. unapologetically. but god, if he didn’t see your hints soon you were going to lose it.

and then one night, it all cracked.

you were curled up on the couch with a pillow under your sweater--mostly as a joke. another friday movie night, another baby-themed film. this time it was life as we know it, and you were two glasses of wine deep and high off frustration.

"ugh," you groaned, nudging jake with your foot. "i’d be such a cute mom."

he hummed. "you’d be the cutest."

"i’d give the best snacks. and i’d totally make our kid wear matching halloween costumes with us. no exceptions."

"you’d be so annoying about it," he laughed.

"do you think i’d be a good mom?"

he looked over, really looked this time, and your fake pregnant pillow belly shifted slightly under your arm.

his lips curled.

"yeah," he said, soft. "you’d be amazing."

you blinked. "so--so you’ve noticed?"

he reached over, pulling the pillow out from under your shirt, then leaned in to kiss your nose. "i’ve known for weeks," he whispered.

"i--wait--you knew?"

he grinned, that same stupid, lazy grin that made you fall for him in the first place. "babe. you’ve been naming hypothetical babies for three weeks, you’ve got a pinterest board titled 'nursery room ideas,' and then you called me ‘daddy’ during sex--only to immediately clarify, 'like, paternal daddy, not the kinky one. kinda hard not to know.'"

you smacked his arm. he kissed you again.

"i was nervous! besides, why didn’t you say anything?!"

"because," he murmured, flipping you onto your back with one arm, pressing soft kisses down your jaw, "i was enjoying the show."

you fell silent for a moment. "you liked watching me suffer?"

"no," he whispered against your skin, "i liked seeing how cute you looked trying to manipulate me."

you felt your ears go bright red. "you're still an idiot," you murmured out.

he chuckled at your half-ass insult, before leaning in to kiss you--properly this time. slow, deep, with a promise tucked right in the middle. "i love that you want this. i want it too. i was just waiting for you to ask."

you flushed. "so…?"

"so let’s do it," he said simply. "let’s have a baby."

𝓢igning off... @pnghoon

── 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [OPEN 🗯] @onlyhees @amouriu @greentulip @enhluv1 @samiikeu @hoonwhile @dearrwoni @won4kiss @jakesangel

[ilium-ilia]

calyptra thalictri

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | masterlist

root

tw: alcohol/drinking, puke/vomit

Your period is late. 

She is a fickle bitch—always coming and going whenever she pleases, often arriving without warning and then popping back in for one last hurrah just when you thought she’d left. For once, she is quiet. You know she is here somewhere, lurking where you don’t want her to. 

The nail on your thumb taps against your phone screen as you count days and weeks on your calendar. One. Two. Four. Twenty-six. Twenty-eight. Today makes twenty-nine. A synodic month; perhaps your body wishes to align with the phases of the moon rather than your own biological clock. Lunar—your sweet Luna. The push and pull. The wax and wane. An ethereal force is here to guide your body until it is pliant—respectful. 

Though, you are exhausted with the supernatural; the otherworldly. With things infinitely stronger than you. With things that diminish you into some infinitesimal creature. 

Your Ghost. 

Vibration from your phone erases all memory of your Ghost from your psyche as a message pops up on screen, obscuring the calendar you’ve been staring at for the better part of half an hour. 

Jane: Here! Ready to head out? 

Thick cut chips from your friends’ favorite pub coats your fingertips in grease. It shines, gossamer beneath the flickering sconces that hang above your head like bombs waiting to fracture on the floor. You’re perched at a round table, elbows resting as you lick yourself clean. They chirp like birds as they lament about their long weeks at work, a sentiment you nod along with as you choke the neck of your beer. Its head sizzles, foam thick and heavy upon the amber liquid. 

Everyone else is already on their second, but you’re still struggling with your first. It tastes stale. Washes over your tongue like flat soda and sawdust. Every ridge along the roof of your mouth shrivels at the flavor. Noisome. Rancid. 

How’s your dream visitor doing? 

They ask their questions in jest with curling lips and pearly teeth. Their words poke like a needle—14 gauge straight through the skin, ripping through epidermis and cartilage. You’d bleed dry, but you slap a bandaid over the wound with a smile. 

“Dunno. Must be off on vacation.” 

It’s a lie. Ghost doesn’t take vacations. 

Not from you. 

He still visits you regularly when you’re in limbo—that purgatory that weighs on your chest and eyelids as you yearn for the freedom that lies on the other side of your paralysis. The most recent time you ran into him, you were on your stomach. Neck craning to the side, you couldn’t see him, but you could feel him. Warmth on your back, hands on your hips, holding your rump into the air to piston into you. You think if you dusted your skin, you’d find his fingerprints lingering on you like a brand. 

You carry him with you, though you often question both your sanity and the validity of his tangibility. 

Your friends quickly drop the subject—bored with your strange dreams and tired eyes—and you are grateful for it. Drowning your discomfort with the hoppy taste of beer, you force the churning in your stomach into submission as you nod along with their stories. Work. Their husbands. A fling. Good sex. Bad sex. 

Something twists. Gnarly fingernails find purchase in your torso and it writhes. Deep. Kicks its feet in your solar plexus. The oxygen it saps from your lungs leaves you dizzy. World spinning. Body too light, table unsteady. 

You excuse yourself to the washroom where the air is cooler and not as thick, but the shock leaves your muscles twitching. The faucet turns on with a squeak. You look at yourself in the mirror, at the face you hardly seem to recognize anymore. Three stalls stand behind you—looming like gallows. As soon as you dip your hands in the water to wash your face, your stomach lurches. 

All the contents of your evening—beer, salty chips, and grease—spills into the bin. The alcohol tasted bad going down, but it’s ten times worse coming back up. Bile, rot; the apotheosis of shame and madness. As soon as you think you’re finished, the scent of it overwhelms your nose, hitting it with bilous acidity, and your stomach contracts again, leaving you to dry heave. 

A tender hand rests on your back between your shoulder blades, pressing into your spine, and your head snaps to the side as you cough. A stranger. Mussed hair, bright blue eyes—her cheeks are florid, though you can’t tell if it’s from her intoxication or her makeup. 

“You alright, sweets? Let me grab you a water.” 

Your friend takes you home afterwards. She doesn’t bother to wait around to watch you enter your apartment before speeding off to rejoin everyone at the pub. Heat plagues you with severe hot flashes that leave you sweating through your clothes. You strip, baring your feverish skin to your apartment before wandering off to the bathroom where you sleep on the floor. Algid tile embraces you. It’s the warmest hug you think you’ve ever received. 

Chalking it up to your impending menstrual cycle, you start wearing pads when Monday rolls around. You’re conscious of it. Too aware. The bulky item presses against your sex as you uncomfortably sit at your desk. Each time a wave of discharge expels, you rush to the bathroom, eager to find blood and endometrium. 

There is nothing. 

You are pusillanimous in the drug store. Head bowed, shoulders curled—the family planning section feels like a cage. One with cameras that show your face and the lack of a ring on your finger as you grab a pregnancy test kit from the shelf. A laughing stock. Something to pity. Something to smirch. You are plenty old enough—no longer some teen girl about to break terrible news to her parents—but you are not ready. 

Incapable. Too dim witted. You are not ready for a child. 

But you can’t have a child—you can’t be pregnant. You remind yourself as much as you make it back inside your apartment. When was the last time you even had sex? Well over a year ago. No, more than that. Your celibacy has outlasted any gestation period. 

You are not pregnant—you tell yourself this as you flee into the bathroom, locking the door behind you as if there is someone who might interrupt you if you don’t. Still wary of the eyes you swear lingered on you at the pharmacy. Cardboard tears as you break into the package, yanking out the stick as if you hold the elixir to your cure—to whatever sickness ails you. Something to quell this madness. 

You are not pregnant—you repeat this as you yank your pants down and sit on the toilet, legs spread awkwardly far. Anxiety blocks your bladder, makes it difficult for you to do your business, but you remind yourself that there is no reason to fret. This is for peace of mind only.

You cap the stick as soon as you’re finished and place it on the counter for it to sit as you clean yourself up. Button clasped, hands washed; you rub at your face as your heart slithers through your esophagus. Each pulse threatens to crack your ribs, so you breathe deeply, you expand your chest to give it more room so that silly muscle might show you mercy. 

After all, you are not pregnant. 

Though, the two lines staring up at you beg to differ.

[sailorsoons]

You. Always. (k.sy)

PAIRING: Soonyoung x f. Reader 

SUMMARY: Soonyoung isn’t a jealous guy - he’s not. But sometimes it gets to him, the way other people look at you and fall a little in love with you. Don’t they know you have him? 

WC: 5055

AU: Established Relationship, pwp

GENRE: Smut, Fluff

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARNINGS: Almost jealous Soonyoung, a little hint of insecurity but nothing crazy, recreational drinking, Mingyu and Wonwoo lowkey being a little annoying and drunk, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex, nipple play, oral (m. receiving), praise kink, pet names like baby and good boy, reader on top, spit and other bodily fluids, not explicit dom/sub dynamics but Soonyoung is very soft in this and reader is guiding him in parts, biting, both reader and Soonyoung are a little dazed and kinda spacy but it’s not explicitly subspace or described in the same way. THIS FIC IS UNEDITED.

A/N: This was originally posted on my old blog sailorrhansol and is now being re-uploaded here :)

A/N 2: This is straight up from a dream I had, no joke. Woke up and was like I just had the weirdest dream about Soonyoung but it was in the Bahamas and a cruise ship was involved at some point but this is almost scene for scene from my dream. I feel blessed. 

MASTERLIST | PERMANENT TAG LIST | ASK

“TRY THIS ONE,” MINGYU INSISTS, LAUGHING. He shoves a drink in your hand, all smiles and glittering eyes. You take the cup from him, the music of the club pulsing around you. A soft buzz ripples through you, a little drunk from the long day out in the sun followed by drinks at sunset, dinner and the afterparty. “It’s soooo good.” 

You trust Mingyu’s judgment - about drinks, anyway. Wonwoo cheers for you, clapping to the beat of the music as you bring the cup to your lips and knock it back. The soda mixed in the drink bubbles in the back of your throat but the taste of something strong burns and you cough, pulling the cup from your mouth with a grimace and squinted eyes.

Both of them begin laughing hysterically, throwing back their hands and clapping their hands. You laugh too, setting the cup down as you try and clear your throat from the liquid fire, tongue stuck out as you reach for a sweating glass of water. 

Wonwoo orders more drinks as you suck down water, freeing your mouth of the bitter taste of whatever it is they gave you. You turn on the stool, looking around the beachside club for Soonyoung. You catch him on the far side leaning against a wall, waiting for the bathroom. Sensing your gaze, he cranes his neck to look toward you, eyes pinning you to the spot immediately. 

Even from across the room, his gaze makes your stomach flip. You grin shyly, waving your hand a little. His lips twitch but his gaze shifts toward Mingyu and Wonwoo. His mouth tilts down a little before the bathroom door opens and he turns away entirely, vanishing down the hall. 

A server appears with a round of clear shots, setting them down on the table. Mingyu leans forward, picking one up with the intention of handing it to you, but you wave him off. “I’ll wait for Soonyoung.” 

Mingyu cranes his head. “Yeah, where the fuck did he go? I kind of forgot he was here.”

It isn’t Mingyu’s fault - he hasn’t known you for very long. Soonyoung has a habit of making friends anywhere the two of you go on vacation, though, and through the last week, you’ve managed to make Wonwoo and Mingyu regular friends while enjoying the summer off the coast of Greece. It had started with a volleyball game and now it has escalated to lunches, dinners and nightly escapades. 

Ever the talker - much like your boyfriend - Mingyu turns to the table next to yours and strikes up a conversation with the group of people there. Within a few minutes, he’s pulling their table to yours and shouting their names at you. You shake unfamiliar hands and grin, just happy to feel the balmy air on your skin and feel the heat of summer. 

Another round of drinks appears in clear, plastic cups, obeying the no glass on the beach rule. The beach club is lowkey and tucked away into the side of the mountain at the very end of the beach, requiring a trek through the sand to get there.

The area is open to the elements with wooden pavilions housing a few tables and benches. In the middle of the club is a long, illuminated shallow pool with tables for guests who are willing to take off their shoes and wade through the cool water to get there. 

You look down at the red drink in your hand, raising a brow as you watch everyone else throw the drink back, chugging as quickly as they can. When they put their cups down and realize you haven’t had yours, they immediately start yelling at you, Mingyu grabbing your forearm to shake you back and forth as he pouts and yells at you to chug.

“I’m gonna get too drunk,” you whine, holding onto the cup and trying not to spill the liquid as Mingyu complains. He pouts and gives you puppy eyes, clasping his hands together as he begs. Wonwoo and your new friends immediately join him, all of them peering up at you. 

“Please,” Wonwoo pleads from across the table, clasped hands tucked under his chin. “Please please please please.”

Before you can tip the cup back, it’s being pulled upward and out of your grip. You look up in surprise, mouth falling open as Soonyoung frees it from your grasp and tilts the cup to his lips. You watch as he drains it, head tilted back to expose the tan softness of his throat. Some of the red spills over the side, running down his chin and throat. 

You watch the beads of liquid, suddenly unable to focus on anything else but the way he looks in that moment. When you blink, Soonyoung’s head is no longer tilted as he leans forward to place the empty cup on the table. He doesn’t bother to wipe the red on his neck and you instinctively grab napkins as he throws himself in the booth across from you. 

He notices you holding them out and he takes them wordlessly, his energy shifted suddenly as he wipes the sticky red from his skin. If your new friends notice, they don’t say anything, cheering for him and then ordering more drinks as they shout over the music. 

When he left to use the restroom, your boyfriend had been in high spirits and a rowdy mood. Now, he’s subdued, eyes flickering between Wonwoo and Mingyu, a little darker than before. You frown, finishing the rest of your water as you drink in Soonyoung’s posture: slouched, mouth pouted, eyes narrowed.

Mingyu asks if you want another drink and you watch as Soonyoung’s mouth turns down. Ah. You decline and immediately Mingyu makes Soonyoung the same offer, but he shakes his head, suddenly interested in his phone. You think Mingyu notices this time that one of your party is clearly no longer in the drinking mood and disengages, turning easily to the others.

You nudge Soonyoung’s foot under the table. He looks up at you, a little dejected and shrugs his shoulders as if to say what? You nod your head toward the exit, raising your brows. He follows your meaning  and pauses for a moment, as though he’s torn between ending the night far earlier than usual or trying to endure his mood. 

Eventually, he nods, turning off his phone and shoving it in his pocket. You stand and announce that you’re feeling a little tired, but thank your friends for the drinks. They all immediately complain, begging you to stay for at least one more round.

“It’s always one more round with you all,” you shoot back. “We can catch up another day. I’m tired and honestly I really just want to lay in bed with my boyfriend.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mingyu huffs, waving you off. “Do whatever it is couples do on vacation.”

Without a word, you hold your hand out to Soonyoung to leave. He stares at it for a moment before his mouth twitches upward and he takes it, lacing his fingers with yours. You give him a gentle squeeze as you lead toward the exit of the club, waving to the manager who is used to your group’s presence by now. 

Outside, the world is only lit by the moon. It sits high up in the sky, turning the world a dark blue as you and Soonyoung walk the beach. The quiet tension follows him outside of the club and down a few meters. You wait for him to say something, peeking at him from the corner of your eye.

In the years you’ve been dating, you’ve learned to read him pretty well. You know something about your interaction with Mingyu and Wonwoo bothers him, but you’re unsure of the specifics. Soonyoung isn’t a jealous boyfriend, but every once in a while there is something that bothers him. An old wound that peels open at the edge and stings him. 

You tug on his hand. He’s surprised, stumbling a little as you yank him off balance and into you. His cologne is laced with his own natural scent, making your head spin as your chests press together and you bring a hand up to his face, stroking a strand of dark hair out of his eyes. 

Soonyoung is beautiful. You’ve always thought so. Eyes that can go from intense to gentle, a round face that is somehow also sharp, a cute mouth prone to laughing. You’ve traced the lines of his face over and over again and still, every time you’re this close to him, you feel your heart skip a beat. 

“You’re not jealous right?” he shakes his head imperceptibly. He looks down at you, bottom lip jutting out a bit. You fight a smile, trying to focus on making sure he’s okay instead of the way his face has melted from contemplative to pouting. “You can tell me if I did something that made you uncomfortable, you know that right?” 

He nods in tiny. His hands hang at his sides, like he’s hesitant to touch you. To do anything. You take his face in both of your hands, cocking your head to the side as you study him. “What’s the matter, baby? What’s bothering you?”

“I’m not jealous,” he starts and stops. You wait for him to continue. You’ve always been better at putting your thoughts to words than he has, and you know he just needs the time to organize them. “And you never do things that make me jealous. I just…” 

Ocean water surges behind you, the gentle push and pull of the swells the only sound as Soonyoung strings his thoughts together. You continue to cradle his face in your hands, thumb stroking back and forth on his cheek. You feel him lean into your touch, going a little weak under your attention. 

“I just know how easy it is to love you,” he finally says. He chews his bottom lip a little and you catch it with your thumb, keeping him from breaking the skin. “You are beautiful and charming, and I can always tell when other people realize it too. It isn’t that… I think you’d like them back or anything. I just feel possessive and then silly for feeling that way.” 

“It isn’t silly.”

“It isn’t?” You shake your head and his voice gets small and soft. “I don’t want it to seem insecure or annoying, and I don’t know why I suddenly felt that way. I usually don't.”

“It’s not silly,” you assure him again. “It’s okay to feel that way sometimes. You’re a human being and you’re allowed to feel things, even if you don’t necessarily know why or how you feel them.” 

“I’m sorry I made us leave early.”

“You didn’t make us do anything, and there is nothing to apologize for. I like going home and just spending time with you. I came here with you. We can make vacation friends all we want, but I have the most fun when you’re involved.”

His mouth twitches in a smile and he nods a little, affirmed by your words. “Can we go home?” 

“Mhmm.”

You lean up on your toes and press a quick kiss to his mouth. Immediately he wants more, chasing your lips but you skip away from him, tugging him along by his hand. He frowns, a little put out. You try not to giggle, feeling your stomach flip a little. 

Soonyoung is so rare like this. He loves being soft, but this is something even gentler. Something delicate and wonderful and endearing. You can’t help but keep him trailing after you, feeling the way his eyes linger on you. Hungry. Wanting. Needing. 

You keep him waiting. 

Catching a taxi up the mountain to the house you’re staying at is easy. The driver rolls the window down, letting the salty air drift in as he goes up and up. You lean against Soonyoung’s shoulder, putting your entwined hands in your lap. He melts into you, head atop yours and eyes fluttering shut as the breeze lifts his hair. 

You love him like this. He looks so young, so capable of love. It’s your favorite thing about him, his ability to love freely, deeply and often. There is so much affection and kindness in him, a well so deep that you have yet to hit the bottom. 

Soonyoung is a little drowsy when the taxi pulls up to the village square. He rouses with a mumbled thank you and clambours out the car behind you, eager to follow your lead up the winding steps that lead through the village houses.

It’s mostly quiet, with the echoes of voices drifting up from open windows and patios, the din of voices from restaurants in the main square hanging on the wind. You manage not to get lost this time as you navigate the winding pathways to the correct house, the blue fence blending in with the dozen other blue fences. 

The cicadas are quiet as you walk down the steps to the front of the home. You tap Soonyoung’s pockets and he blushes, forgetting he has the keys. He’s quick to produce them and pass them over, watching you expectantly as you unlock it and step into the darkness. 

Cool air drifts in from the open windows. There’s no air conditioning in the rented house, but the ocean wind that comes in at night through open shutters is enough to cool you off. 

Soonyoung is quiet. He follows your lead up the stairs to the second floor where the bedroom is, lingering in the doorway when you drop his hand and turn to face him as you walk backward into the room. He’s hypnotized as you unbutton the top of your shirt slowly, staring at him. 

The way he looks at you ignites a fire inside of you. No one else could look at you like this, equal parts reverence and hunger. No one else could make your hands shake as you stare at him staring at you, his lips parted a little, tongue darting out to wet them as he swallows. 

Your blouse falls open and you shuck it off, letting it hit the floor. Moonlight paints your side profile. Soonyoung doesn’t dare move from the door until you hold out a hand, palm upward. “Come here,” you whisper. He obeys immediately, nearly tripping over his feet to get to you. 

His hands go around your waist, warm against your skin. You wind your arms around his neck, pulling him in close, fingers threading in his hair and pulling a little. He lets out a soft sound as you tilt his face toward yours, forcing him to meet your eyes. His pupils are blown and you can feel his heart thundering against yours. 

“You know I love you more than anything else, right?” For a second, he just stares at you, eyes fixated on your mouth. You pull his hair a little more and he sucks in a sharp breath before nodding a little. He seems too dazed to do more than the barest acknowledgement. “Do you want me to show you?” 

You lean up to brush your nose against his. Soonyoung’s eyes fall shut and you feel a shiver go through him. His breath is unsteady when you brush your mouth against his in an almost kiss. “Do you want me to show you how much I love you, Soonyoung?” 

He nods again, unable to find words. Your nails scratch at his scalp gently and he lets out a breathy moan, melting in your hands. “Okay,” you whisper, pressty a soft kiss to his mouth. He tries to chase your lips again but you step back and tug at him. “Come lay down.” 

Soonyoung obeys. He’s always been a good boy, but having him like this isn’t common. You like to think that you’re both equal parts in charge in the bedroom, flowing with whatever the other needs. Having him like this, sitting down on the bed and looking up at you like you cradle his world in your hands though… it lights you up. 

“Lay back for me,” you instruct gently. He does immediately, bouncing a little on the mattress. You climb onto the mattress, knees on either side of his waist as you crawl up toward him, settling your weight on his hips. Immediately his hands reach toward your hips and stop, hovering as he gets stuck between doing what he wants and waiting for you to tell him. “Go ahead,” you whisper, leaning toward him. “Take whatever you want. You can have whatever.” 

Warm hands grip your waist. Your fingers expertly undo the buttons of his shirt and you make sure to brush them against his stomach as you move upward. You feel the muscles jump and he lets out another breathy sound. His hands just remain on your sides, not ready to explore more as he fixates on the way you pull his shirt off of his shoulders.

He’s a little clumsy when he leans up to help you shuck it off. You don’t care, surging forward to capture his mouth in a full kiss as he does. He forgets all about taking the shirt off, sleeves halfway down his arms as he leans forward to lick into your mouth, hungry and desperate for whatever you’ll give him.

You don’t hold back, letting him consume you. His mouth is warm and wet, tasting faintly of cherry from one of the drinks he had earlier. You love it, humming delightly as your hands brush from his shoulders to where his shirt is stuck near the elbows. You tug but the material is restricted, making you break away from the kiss with a laugh. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, letting your hips go to take the shirt all the way off. 

Immediately your hands seek the heat of his skin, brushing from his shoulders to his chest and down his stomach and back up, fingers loving every groove and plane. He shivers under your touch, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re so pretty,” you whisper, pushing him back gently so that he’s laying down again. He lets you trace him, though you can feel his hips twitch under you, turned on by your exploration. “So pretty, Soonyoung. Do you know that?” 

Again, he gives the tiniest nod. You smile and lean forward, holding yourself up by planting a hand on either side of his head. You catch his mouth again and he lifts his head up, eager to taste you. A hum of appreciation escapes you as you kiss him slowly, pressing your hips down into his. 

Soonyoung moans and it’s so delicate that it makes you dizzy. You feel fucked out from this version of him already, the room spinning as you rut gently into him. You grab his hands that rest on your ass and pull them up your sides to your bra, a command. 

He understands immediately, pulling at the clasps to undo the back. You break the kiss again, mouth feeling bruised, to lean up and toss the garment. His hands find your chest immediately and you feel goosebumps burst on your skin at his touch, large hand squeezing. 

You let him rub his thumb over your pert nipples, spiking the pleasure in your stomach. You let out a light sound and shiver in his hands, ducking back down to press your mouth to his lips, the corner of his mouth, his chin - anywhere you can kiss. 

His skin is salty and sweet, your tongue darting out to soothe his flesh after a sharp bite. He’s putty beneath you, completely at your mercy as your mouth maps out the way you love him. Every kiss, bite and lick is another declaration: I love you. I love you. I love you. 

Light moans drip from his lips as you pepper him with kisses. Dragging your teeth across his chest lightly, you watch as he shivers and squeezes his eyes shut. Grinning, you move your mouth over his nipple, tongue flicking out lightly. A sharp hiss escapes through his gritted teeth, his head digging backward into the bed as he arches under you. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. 

A hum escapes you as you close your mouth over his nipple, sucking gently. He’s so sensitive, whining and squeezing your sides. You trail your mouth across his chest, leaving a wet trail as you do before dragging your teeth across his other nipple. 

“Pretty,” you mumble again, moving your mouth lower. You teeth at his skin as you go, feeling him twitch beneath you. His hands drop to the sheet, twisting them in a vice grip as he lets you scoot down his lap until you’re off the bed and on the carpet, undoing his pants as you go. 

Getting him out of his pants is hard - Soonyoung is loose-limbed and clumsy, hands shaking as he helps you pull the fabric down followed by his briefs. You let out an appreciative moan when you take his cock in your hand, heavy, warm and leaking at the tip. 

He can barely keep it together when you stroke him, hand firm, thumb brushing over the sticky tip. You watch every reaction, eyes focused on the flush in his cheeks, the way he chews on his bottom lip to try and keep from whimpering, the way his fingers twist in the blankets. 

“So perfect,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss his inner thighs as you continue to work him with your hand. His hips twitch upward and you let him, continuing to run your tongue along his thigh. “You’re the perfect boyfriend.” 

“Hnnn,” is the mumbled answer. 

Leaning up high on your knees, you tilt his cock toward your mouth, licking leisurely around the tip. He keens and you smirk, feeling your cunt clench as you take him in your mouth properly, spurred on by the way he falls apart instantly. 

This is another thing you love. It doesn’t matter the dynamic, Soonyoung always crumbles at your touch - craves it, needs it, wants it more than anything. It’s hard not to feel like a god as you hear him pant your name, watch the way the breath catches in his throat as you take him deep into your throat, the flat of your tongue scraping the underside of his cock as you go. 

You’re not clean with it. You let spit drip out the corner of your mouth, let yourself gag a little. Work what you can’t fit past your lips with the rest of your hand, getting carried away. His hand shoots to your head - he doesn’t push or pull, just leaves it there, like it can ground him.

Pulling off with a loud pop, you give his shaft a squeeze, kissing the inside of his thigh again. A mix of cum and spit shine in the moonlight when you pull your mouth away. 

“I love seeing you like this,” you rasp. “Love watching you fall apart.”

“Please,” he gasps, managing to lift his head up and look down at you. His hair is damp with sweat and his eyes are fucked out, gaze unfocused. “Don’t wanna come in your mouth.”

“I’ve got you.” You give a single, long lick up his shaft for good measure, feeling him tremble before you stand up to take your pants off. He makes a pitiful sound, hand shooting toward you, hating being away from you. “One second, baby. Sorry.” 

“S’okay.” 

Naked, you crawl up the bed again. His hands shoot to your thighs, kneading the flesh and rubbing his palms up and down, warming you up. You feel the wetness drip down your thighs, worked up from working him up. From the way he moans when you press your pussy to his cock, you know he can feel it. 

“All good?” you ask gently, pressing your forehead against his. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing hard, a sheen of sweat on his brow. You hold yourself over him with one hand and bring the other up to brush the hair off his forehead. “Too much?”

He shakes his head. “No, just. Sensitive.”

“Mhmm. You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”He nods in tiny, opening his eyes to look up at you like you’re the sun, the moon, and all of his stars. “Good boy,” you breathe and he moans, hips canting upward to rub his cock against your folds. “I love you.”

He nods again, eager and desperate. “Love you.”

Sitting up on your knees, you reach a hand under you, gripping him firmly. Soonyoung opens his eyes, making sure to watch your every move with swollen, parted lips and half-lidded eyes. You feel drunk from the way he looks at you, as hypnotized by him as he is of you.

You press the tip of his cock against your entrance, both of you groaning. Carefully, you sink down on him, your breath getting stuck in your throat. The stretch punches the breath from your lungs but it’s good, the ache replaced with something stronger, better. He fills up every part of you - you feel him deep in your stomach as you full seat yourself on him, ass pressed to his pelvis as you fight for air. 

“Fuck, Soonyoung,” you mutter, falling forward to plant a hand on his chest. You lean your weight forward, pushing him into the mattress and holding yourself up. You can feel his thundering heart under your palm, beat matching your own pounding pulse. “Feel so good.”

“Wanna be. Wanna be for you.”

“You are. You always are. I could never want anything else, you know that right?” A tiny, barely there nod. “You make me feel so good. Always do.” 

“Please.”

You know what he’s asking. You give it to him, slowly lifting yourself until you’ve almost pulled off him entirely. You drop back down hard, knocking the breath from your lungs as you spear yourself on him. It is intoxicatingly good, pleasure rippling outward like a stone dropped in a lake. You chase the feel, repeating the motion until you’re nearly mindless and out of breath. 

“Shit,” you swear, laughing a little as your head drops down. You can’t focus on anything but rolling your hips, fucking yourself onto him as his hands grab your ass, not controlling you but gripping fiercely. “God damn fuck.”

Soonyoung laughs, deep and gravely as the cockiness you’re used to bleeds back in for a moment. “Yeah?”

You clench your cunt as you sink down on him, making him let out a high-pitched noise at the move and you grin. “Yeah,” you shoot back. “Thought so.” 

A knot twists in your stomach as you set a smooth pace, thighs burning. Pleasure ribbons through you, twisting and turning, his hands dimpling your flesh. He lets you keep your pace at first, taking everything you give him, his feet planted flat on the mattress as he tries to contain himself, curses escaping between clenched teeth.

Your legs tremble. Your nails dig into the hard muscle of his chest. He senses your movements get a little strained, the pleasure making it harder to focus on lifting yourself. You feel his grip on your ass change, Soonyoung putting power behind it to help lift you up and pull you back down. He thrusts up to meet you, the wet squelch of his harder thrusts intoxicating. 

“Fuck yeah,” you gasp, giving up the pretense of riding him and letting him take over. “Fuck me just like that.” 

It’s all he needs before his grip turns iron and he’s fucking up into you with abandon. Your hand slips on his chest as the power of his thrusts knock you off balance. You let yourself crash together, chest against chest. Soonyoung wraps his arms around your back, holding you to him. 

Your mouth finds his neck, burying your face in there as you try to steady your breathing. It feels like your heart might explode, his name falling from your lips as you press them against his neck. He mumbles something unintelligible, pace picking up. 

“Shit,” you pant. “Shit shit shit shit - Soonyoung - shit.” 

He huffs, something like laughter before his pace is brutal. He fucks you fast and deep, your mind blanking as you crest upward. All you can do is hold on to him, mouth panting against his throat, your muscles squeeze squeeze squeezing until you’re coming hard. 

Everything goes blank. Your ears ring and you’re vaguely aware of his wild thrust as he chases his orgasm. You melt in his grip, letting him use you, completely boneless. 

Soonyoung growls your name  as he comes, pace slowing as he fucks you deep until he stills. You feel the stickiness between you and the way he’s still shaking. You rise and fall with his heavy breathing, both of your heartbeats erratic and thoughts staticky. 

You lay there like that for a while, a pile of exhausted limbs and few thoughts. His arms loosen their grip around you and he starts rubbing his hands up and down your back. It draws you back into the moment more and you open your eyes to look up at him. 

Soonyoung’s eyes are closed and his breathing is deep. You can tell he isn’t asleep, but rather enjoying the moment, his face tilted toward the window where the moon floats over the mountains. He looks so pretty like this, face soft and serene. 

“You’re staring at me,” he murmurs, his voice low and spent. “You could at least tell me I’m pretty.”

“I just did. Several times.”

His mouth tilts upward but he doesn’t open his eyes. “I like hearing it.”

“Fine. You’re the prettiest boy.” 

“Hmm. Yeah?”

“Yes. And I love you.”

“Say it again.” Soonyoung opens his eyes and they meet yours. They’re clearer now, and crinkled at the sides when he gives you a smile that feels far too innocent for the fluids running down your thighs and the way your cunt still clenches around him. “I like when you say it.”

“I love you.” 

He smirks. “Just me?”

You lean up and nip his neck. He giggles, leaning away from you. “You. Always.” 

He sighs. “Me,” he agrees. “Always.”

PERMANENT TAG LIST

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[avocado-writing]

Avo please I need Pregnant reader x DP&W headcanons 😩 I love both these men so much. I just wanna a little life with them. These men have been through so damn much. Let them have some softness in their life.

I don’t really want kids but good lord- if they asked me too, I would push out an entire hockey team for them

Wade is so fucking happy when you tell him you're pregnant. They've been trying to knock you up for ages now, about damn time it worked!

Logan is pleased too but he's a little more... reserved about it. Doesn't want to run around telling everyone like Wade does. It's hard for him to embrace happiness, because he's so used to it slipping through his fingers. Get past your first trimester and he's able to start smiling about it though.

Expect to always be sitting down. If you get up to do something, one of them will be gently guiding you back to your seat. "Sweetie you sit your fine pregnant ass right back down, I'll get whatever you need. Soda? Chips? A whole tub of Ben & Jerry's?" or a softer, "Stay there baby, I'll grab it."

One of them is always with you, like a fucking guard dog. They're dangerous men after all, who knows who might be looking for them? Usually you can handle yourself but they have an extra reason to worry now.

Al makes it very clear she does not want a baby in the apartment (can you blame her?) so you have to find a new home. It's an added stress for you so the boys usually go out scouting. Eventually you're able to find a cute little place to afford with the three of you (being in a polycule is the only way to make rent these days)

You love to spend those days doing up baby's room and singing silly little songs as you do it. "Am I gonna paint your nursery green or yellow, who knows... ♫" If one of them catches you, they'll lean against the doorframe and watch you with absoloute heart-eyes.

Logan's been around for long enough that he's had experience with young kids before, so when you or Wade panic about something, he's usually the one to temper it. Reminds you that you'll both be fine.

Wade never shuts the fuck up talking to your bump. Truly, a stream of consciousness about the world to baby. Gets little Deadpool onesies for them too, because he thinks they're cute. Logan is quieter, hand on your belly, a quiet few sentences just so they know that he has a voice and it's not just Wade.

They're pretty good when you go into labour. Wade panics a bit but Logan hits him with a look which implies that now is not the time, and he buckles down. Delivery goes smoothly. It's great to have two guys who can heal their bones when you need to grip down on something as you push.

And when you get home? Crib is barely used. Baby is pretty much always in someone's arms: Wade's who's always babbling to baby's delight; Logan's solid embrace as he hums quietly; against your chest as you whispered how loved they are.

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk @starfleetteddybear

[icedout-pacemaker]

Enjoying a family barbeque and going to the bathroom real quick after drinking a bunch of soda. I don't notice uncle follow me. I am sitting with my skirt down to my ankles, sighing as I finally get to pee before looking up when I hear someone letting themselves in. I try to tell them that I'm in here, but they push through and uncle is there, his face unreadable but his gaze focused on my legs. He closes the door behind himself, locking the door before walking up to me. He doesn't just stand in front of me. He moves until his legs are around the toilet and I am seated and backed up into the tank, looking up at him with those big brown eyes. He gently runs a finger over my exposed shoulders, hooking his finger along the collar of my off-the-shoulder blouse before telling me to pull it down.

I look down as I touch my shirt but he guides my chin back up, telling me to keep my eyes on him as I show my tits to him. He gently slips his thumb in my mouth, watching my hands as I carefully pull my shirt down, exposing a simple black bra with no padding. He thought there would be padding. He thought I had been wearing padded bras all this time. They were really this big?

He uses his free hand to reach down, hooking at the front of the bra until it unlatches. My tits drop out, softly bouncing as he groans. I can see his pants move in the front and he rubs himself a moment before reaching forward, taking my right tit in his hand, squeezing it.

He lets go of my chin but tells me to keep my eyes on him as he starts to undo his belt, pushing his jeans down. He rubs himself through his boxers, his eyes honed in on my tits. He pulls my hand to his crotch, letting me feel how hard he is through his pants, urging me to palm it myself. I can feel him twitching in my hand. He shoves my hand away and pulls himself out, stroking and holding himself in his hand as he inches over me more,  until I have no more room to back up. He gently pats it against my cheek, taking my chin and angling my lips to take his cock. I close my mouth, pressing my lips together as I try to turn away. He yanks my chin back, forcing me to look at it before pinching my nose, waiting for the few seconds before shoving it in as soon as I open my mouth for breath.

He doesn't start slow or gentle. The sloppy squelch of his cock in my mouth is immediate as he bucks his hips forward, touching the back of my throat ever second or third thrust. I brace my hands on his legs, unsure what to do. He takes my chin, snapping at me to keep looking up at him as he fucks my mouth. He groans, and I can tell he is already getting close. He pulls out before that can happen, watching a few strings of saliva on my chin as I gasp for air, still looking up at him. His hands go to my tits and he sticks hic cock in, fucking upwards before telling me to hold them. He groans as he fucks my big black tits, looking upwards before looking back down at me, thrusting with a faded look in his eyes. He says I have pornstar tits and wants to make a movie of himself fucking me to show to his friends.

I can hear the family through the door, but can't see the door when he shoves his cock back in my mouth, my back pinned tot he toilet tank as he fucks my mouth. He pushes deep, holding me there and tilting my chin up to look at him. He says this is how deep he wants to be in my pussy, He watches the saliva drip out fo my mouth as he stays deep in my throat, my eyes rolling back as I try to breathe, my pussy starting to twitch. He says he loves seeing me like this - a sloppy little slut who takes it whenever and wherever. He pulls out halfway, listening to my long gasp as I can finally breathe, tongue out as I look up at him, dazed. He runs it over my tongue but doesn't push back in again. I'm surprised when he starts to pull his pants on, visibly still hard.

"I want to edge myself through this stupid party. That way when I fuck you tonight, it'll be even better."

He adjusts his pants to hide his erection before slipping out of the bathroom, leaving me with my skirt down, tits out, and mouth partly open. Sloppy and achy.

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

Reader x Bakugo friends since kids

He asks to lose his virginity to you as you’re so close and doesn’t wanna be a pro hero virgin

First time is shit and awkward 

asks to try again

Twice the charm.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️🔸🔸🔸〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Don’t make it fucking weird.” He snapped, his eyes burning into you as his arms rested either side of your head. For someone you grew up with, someone who gave you your first bloodied nose, first win at Mario kart, first broken toe, he suddenly didnt look so familiar. His chiseled jaw somehow sharper, his red eyes somehow darker, his arms somehow wider, you tried not to let your stomach flutter but with him now towering over you on your bed, you couldnt help but let it stir.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He huffed, his cheeks glowing as red as yours, as you felt his hips shift slightly away from you, instinctively you pulled him back, arching your back slightly to bring him closer.

“Stop talking and hurry up you idiot.” You barked back, trying your best to hide your anxiety at the very strange, completely new situation you had found yourself in. He had asked you earlier this evening if you could do him a massive favour, for Katsuki this usually meant he wanted you sitting on his back to add extra weight to his push ups, or helping him finish his English paper because he was far too angry at all the adjectives and verbs Present Mic wanted from him. But this time it was something completely different.

“I am NOT becoming a pro hero if im still a virgin. Everyone else has already lost theirs, hell, even Jiro let Denki hit at least once. “ His brow furrowed, looking as pissed off as ever.

“Im still a virgin too Yano…” you offered in condolence.

“You don’t count.” He snapped back, pushing past you to grab another drink from the vending machine. “Besides, they all kinda think….i lost mine first.” Embarrassment flooded his voice as he lowly mumbled the last part.

“And why would they think that dare I ask…..” Trying not to scold him, you flash a sweet smirk his way as he downs his soda, and crushes the can in his hand effortlessly.

“I told them I had. We had.” He desperately tried to avert his gaze from yours, as your eyes widened at his blatant lie.

“You fucking WHAT?! You told them we fucked without even mentioning it to me?!” You pushed his bicep, hoping to nudge him at least a little with your frustration, but he stood still, completely unfazed at your force.

“Thought it’d be alright. No one’s said anything to you about it so….Yano….”

“Of course they didn’t! Why would they?! People dont go round confirming everyone’s broke hymens you fucking idiot!” You slammed your fist into his chest, again no reaction or acknowledgment at your attempt at hurting him.

“So, you gonna help me out or am I gonna have to find some rando to help me out.” He smirked slightly at the thought of you squirming under him, his cheeks beginning to slightly flush. You let out a deep sigh as you considered it.

“Wouldnt it be like fucking your sister though….ive known you forever. Hell, ive even shit myself infront of you before…” He shuddered slightly at the memory, pulling a dark grimace across his lips. Silence hung in the air as his eyes shifted back up to you, still awaiting your reply.

“Fine. Cmon let’s get it over with. But no kissing.” You snarl, grabbing his hand and guiding him to your bedroom.

And his hands tightened behind your head, grasping at your pillow, he start to thrust his hips against yours, letting his head lay in between your neck and jaw. His breath started to grow into a small pant as he reached down and started to grab your chest. You jolted at his hand squeezing your tit, letting out a slight gasp, as he flung his head up and concerningly looked at you.

“You alright?” He whispered in a lower, breathy tone.

“Yeah, just, not used to you touching me like this I guess…” you shake your head, trying to get the thoughts out of your mind. “Sorry, carry on….want me to take my trousers off?” You offered, desperately fighting the urge to get it over with, whilst also fighting the urge to savour every sensation that flooded your body. He nodded and moved back off you slightly, giving you room to undo and pull off your jeans. As you did so, he decided to take his joggers off too, along with his shirt.

The shadows casting on his abs made him look even more appealing, you always knew he had a good body, hell you weren’t blind, but you’d never looked at him this way, in this light, with this feeling fluttering in your groin. As your mouth opened slightly, gawking at him, you saw a small smirk creep to the corners of his mouth. He knew you were admiring him, and god did it rub his ego the right way. He started to tighten the muscles in his stomach, flexing slightly whilst staring down at you, the smirk growing wider as your eyes did the same.

“Yeah that’s right, I knew you thought i was hot. “ He proudly whispered, tensing his biceps too, as he laid his body back over yours. As he slotted back in between your hips, you inhaled slightly as his warm body encased yours under him, letting out a shy giggle as he grazed the sides of your hips, pulling you closer into him.

“Fucking hell katz, you’ve done this before haven’t you…” you stutter, completely embarrassed by how quickly your pants became damp from him pulling you in, feeling his cock getting harder and harder.

“Of course not… you think I’d of gotten this far with someone and then NOT fucked them? Cmon dont be an idiot.” He growled, looking down at your thighs trembling between him. “So, you ready then?”

Your voice trembled as you nodded your head, “yeah I think so. Just,” you tried to push the embarrassment off, tried desperately to pretend this wasn’t your first time, and that it wasn’t more special than it needed to be. “Hurry up alright? I dont want this being any weirder than it needs to be.”

“Yeah, ‘weird’ “ He scoffed, almost rolling his eyes at you, it was undeniable that something had now changed between you two, this wasnt an in out thank you very much job, it was quickly becoming an incredibly passionate, intense moment.

He slowly leant down to your neck and started peppering it with soft,slow kisses, the no kissing rule dissipated into thin air as soon as his hot lips brushed your neck. Your back arched as his hand started to move towards your waist band, pulling it down so he could brush up against your body, flesh to flesh. His warm cock rubbed against your folds, almost gliding against the hot honey that leaked from you, he let out a sharp exhale as he felt how truly wet you were for him. He rested his head on your chest as he guided himself to your entrance, slowly he put the tip of his head into you.

“F fuuuuck.” You blurted out, your eyes rolling in the back of your head already. His breathy moans against your skin made your senses burn even hotter as you dug your nails into his back. As he inched slowly into you with each thrust, you could feel your walls tightening around him, painful but so addictive you couldnt help but pull him more and more into you with your nails.

Suddenly, as he finally managed to thrust himself fully into you, he started to jerk, his whole body tensing up into a tight spasm. His face screwed up and a “oh fuck” left his lips. As he filled you with his hot cum, you couldnt help but sharply open your eyes and stare at him. Already?! It was an insanely good start, there’s no denying that, but was he seriously THAT sensitive? You tried desperately to hide your smirk, closing your eyes again and forcing your face into what you thought an orgasm face was, and started to let out small pants, there was no way you were going to let on to him that you knew what had happened. Not yet anyway. Not whilst he was still inside of you.

His eyes darted down to you in a panic, completely terrified that you had noticed he had cum already from six pumps, only one of them being fully into you anyway. As he saw your face, a slight relief washing over him as he reached down to play with your clit, he had read somewhere that this was the sure fire way to get any girl to cum, but as he swiped his thumb over it randomly, carelessly, you opened your eyes and pulled his hand away.

“Too much. It’s alright, you can get off now. “ The smirk was far too strong to hide, as it defied you and swiped across your face. His eyes furrowed as he quickly pulled out of you and sat back on his heels. As you closed your legs, you started to sit up slightly on your elbows, looking down at the cum leaking out of you onto your pink bed sheets.

“I didn’t cum.” He hissed, embarrassment slapping his face as his tried to cover his soaked wet boner from your eyes. You looked down at the cum now pooling under your ass, dripping out of you, and snickered,

“Yeah. Course not.” You darted your eye back up to his as your smirk teased him.

“Fuck off. You must’ve done something. All that squeezing inside and how wet you were….its your fault. “ he tried to turn his face away from you, tried to grab his trousers to pull them back on as he misjudged how shaken his body was and toppled to the floor. You let out a massive laugh as more cum was forced out of you, cupping your entrance to try to catch it so it didn’t completely ruin your mattress, he stood back up and huffed, pulling his trousers back over his hips and walked towards your door.

“You’re just gonna cum and run? Tsk, harsh man.” You slowly sat up, grabbing his t shirt that was flung to your side, attempting to cover your body as he opened the door.

“Yeah, whatever.” He slammed the door behind himself and left you alone in your room, defeated and unsatisfied.

The next day he didn’t look at you. You tried to push yourself past him in the shared kitchen like you usually did, but instead he swiftly moved away and let you almost fall to the kitchen counter. He left without saying a word. All day he didn’t speak to you, didnt look at you. Not in class, not in training, not even when you shouted over for him to move when sero accidentally let out more tape than he meant and it smacked him in the back of the thigh.

That night you decided to barge into his room , demanding answers, but you were met with him shoving clothes and training gear into a large bag on his bed.

“Running away cause I teased you? Cmon man, you can’t be serious.” You leant against his doorframe, folding your arms to your chest. He darted his eyes to you from the corner of his furrow brows.

“Fuck off. Im going home for a few days. Dont feel good.”

“Bull. Fucking. Shit.” You snapped.

“What? What do you want? More disappointment from one pump chump over here?! Fuck off out of my room!” He barked, smoke starting to rise from his palms as he become increasingly more angry, almost unable to control his frustration at himself.

“Really? You’re getting fucked off because of that?” You let out a short unimpressed laugh. “Dude, everyone’s first time is shit. That’s kind of the unspoken rule. First times shit, seconds slightly less shit, then you find your groove…” He throws a plushie at you, the one you won him years ago that he secretly kept under his bed.

“Fuck. Off.” His eyes didnt meet yours, he just kept packing. You walked over and slammed your icy fist onto his bag, completely freezing it under your palm. You stared at the top of his forehead with such intense anger and frustration, you couldnt help but feel like youd channeled him through yourself. He still didn’t meet your gaze as he let off a small spark and melted your ice instantly. “I said. Fuck. OFF!” He pushed you away, almost pushing you over, as you stumbled you fell onto his bed. He picked his bag up,flung it over his shoulder and started to leave. Before he opened his door, you let out an icy flick from your fingers, freezing his hand on the door handle.

“Do it better then. Don’t be a fucking baby. If your egos shattered then fix it. When have you ever not tried your best to be the fucking master of everything?!”

“Because it’s you.” He snapped, the hurt in his voice becoming even more apparent. “It was meant to be easy with you. It was meant to be an easy way to break this weird friendship family shit we have going on and make it easier….easier to tell… show you….how I felt.” His confession almost knocked the air from your lungs. Stunned, you stayed quiet, studying his back as his tight compression shirt fit so snuggly to each muscle, almost painted onto them. As the silence hung in the air with a sickeningly heavy strain, he opened the door and left.

Two days passed and he still hadn’t returned. You had decided to sleep in his room, praying that each creak, each gust of wind was him coming back into your life, your arms. But nothing. In class kirishima suddenly distanced himself from you, not in harsh hatred kind of way, but in a hurt, gotta side with my best friend kinda way. You didn’t pry, you just let him do his duty to Katsuki, and stay away. After another night alone you woke in the morning in his bed, in his favourite all might t shirt, and staggered to the communal kitchen to make some tea. Suddenly, you saw him drop his bags at the entrance of the doorway, and run to you. As he embraced you, he lifted you up in his arms and held you so tightly that it a made a loud squeak erupt from your lips. As he cradled you in his python grip, his head carving its way into your chest, you felt the tears rolling down your cheeks. You cradled the top of his head, and cried into his sharp,blond spikes. He loosened his grip slightly letting you fall down so you were face to face with him, and embraced you in a tight, passionate kiss. His lips almost burnt yours as he pressed deeply into you, still cradling you as if letting go meant losing you forever.

After it felt like time had stopped and you both remained entwined forever, he slowly let his lips leave yours for a moment as he walked towards the sofa. Gently laying you down onto it, still embracing you, he parted your legs and lay ontop of you. His kisses became slow, deliberate, passionate, as if they spoke the words he wanted to let out but couldnt. He ran his hand along the outside of your thigh as he slowly pressed himself against you, grabbing your ass he started to grab at the fabric of your pants. As the kisses became harder, his hands danced around your ass and lower back, lightly scratching you as his passion became more evident. As he breathed in your soft moans, he started to undo his trousers and tugged at your pants in between your thighs. You reached down and pulled them the side as you felt him pull his cock free from its denim prison. Slowly he started to guide himself into you as you clawed at his back. Kissing your neck, his teeth started to graze your skin as he started to bite down, sucking and claiming your skin as his chew toy. The harder he bit, the more he entered you, slow and deliberate, he managed to fully sink into you with another thrust, and started to rock his hips back and forth. The pleasure washed over you, his warmth, his passion, his fucking width stretching your walls to envelop him. The faster he moved his hips, the louder your moans became, trying as you might, nothing was stopping these sounds from escaping you. He managed to shove his tongue into your mouth and muffled them slightly, only overpowering them with his own. His hands held tightly around you as your euphoria engulfed you, suddenly your body become instantly hot as a sudden wave rose inside of you, as it reached its peak you threw your head backwards and screamed his name. As soon as his name slipped from your lips, he grabbed your chin to face him again, lips inches away.

“Again.” He smirked, the sweat dripping from his forehead, making his hair stick to it. Your voice trembled as your body started to twitch, seconds away from coming completely undo under him, you said it again and he thrusted harder. This was enough to send you into complete euphoria. Your thighs clenched around him, your walls pulsed almost pushing him out of you, as your body filled with electricity frying every single nerve ending you had. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you started to see stars, he placed his forehead on you and started unfolding himself. As you rode the wave together, you both eventually coming down, panting and sweating, you fell into a puddle of each other and laughed.

He opened his eyes slowly to look at you, forehead still pressed to yours, as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“Better?” He asked, almost a whimper between pants.

“You better not have gone off to practice without me.” You giggled, your chest rising and falling quickly, desperately trying to find any extra oxygen it could. As he leant down and softly pressed his lips to yours, a sudden door closing made you both jump. You both stared, eyes as wide as physically possible at the figure standing at the doors entrance. Mr aizawa. Arms folded. Scowl burning you both to your core. The laugh that erupted from katsukis throat made you shake as he was still inside of you. His nervous laughter made you suddenly erupt in laughter too. His head hung lower as he pulled out of you, and put himself back into his trousers swiftly, praying that maybe he thought you were dry humping.

“Feeling better?” Mr aizawa bluntly asked, before turning around and leaving the UA building, just as he was about to close the door behind himself, he muttered.

“I hope you’re both ready for the punshiments coming your way. Also, denki get back to your room.” Katsuki spun his head round to see denki peering over the side of the wall, eyes wide staring at katsukis back as it hung over you. His face a mixture of mortified and jealous. He quickly ran back around the corner as Katsuki jumped up and chased him. You sunk into the sofa, trying to make yourself as small as possible, as the door slammed shut behind aizawa.

“I suppose now they can’t think he lied about us.” You whispered to yourself, giggling into your hands now covering your face.

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ The Curtain Eclipse — Black Sapphire Cookie x GN Reader Fic ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

At the end of a live performance, you were working backstage, prepping what your TV personality would need to unwind after his acts. Right as you were cleaning up his station, Black Sapphire Cookie sauntered into his break room with a loud sigh and a dramatic groan lacing his words. "Urgh, that was such work! Remind me to fire that second act" he said, striding over to you and flopping down in his vanity's chair. "A drink, Black Sapphire?" You asked, and he nodded, waving a hand to punctuate his words "The best we have in stock, I need it" he said, putting his large microphone off to the side.

You diligently went to his mini supply, taking out a chilled cream soda. He looked himself over in his mirror, tilting his head this way and that "The cookies will be talking about this gossip for weeks- no, months!". "You did amazing, as always" you said, handing him his drink. He accepted, taking a long sip from the glass before placing it on his dresser with a soft 'klink'. "Oh, sure, but I could do better" he replied "I'll have gossip so big that cookies will be on about it for years. Broadcasted to all of Earthbread— just as Shadow Milk intended". He made a low and smooth chuckle as he sipped his drink once more "And you, my dear, will be right by my side as it all goes into chaos"

"I'm flattered" you chuckled. Black Sapphire glanced to you, his dark eyes warm with familiarity. He beckons you over with his hand "Look here, my gem". You step up, and he gently holds your face, guiding you to where you're looking in the mirror "When you're before the world, you need to be a picture of confidence. Elegant, poised. A rose hiding its thorns". "Something you pull off effortlessly" you responded to him, and he chuckled a little "Flatterer. But, you're right again. I've perfected this art. You, however, keep me together"

"I do?" You asked, looking at him rather than your own eyes reflected back at you. "Why, of course!" Black Sapphire responded, wrapping his arms around your neck. He tugged you forwards, until you were hovering over where he was sitting. His grin was sharp, comfortable in a way no one else ever saw. His half-lidded eyes squinted just a bit more in fondness upon having you so close. His hand brushed your cheek.

"What would I do without you, hm? Your little smiles, all the times you've pressed my suit. And," he leaned much closer, his head on your shoulder so he could speak to your ear better "All the company you give me". "I.. didn't think you'd be the lonely type" you said, a little stunned as you wrapped your arms around him in return. "Well, technically I'm not" Black Sapphire admitted with a little sigh "There's always the audience, or Candy Apple, or the stagehands. But you, my little gem..." he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your cheek "You see me, you get me"

You stood stunned, hands on his shoulders, but no idea if you should risk getting closer. Your faces were so near, his gestures inviting... and yet you were worried about what you should do. A knock came to the door, getting Black Sapphire's attention. He sighed as he stood, taking your hands in his "I'm needed again," he said simply. He gave you a warm smile before gently kissing the back of your hands "I'll see you tonight?"

You nodded immediately "Yes, yes- I'm- I'm free then" you stammered out. "Good, good" Black Sapphire said, making sure to draw back slowly. He picked up his microphone staff, beginning to head towards the door "Until then, little gem". Once he got to the doorframe, you found your energy, jogging up behind him "Black Sapphire Cookie, wait-!". He stopped, turning to face you. You hesitated for only a moment before leaning up, planting a kiss right where his fluffy bangs gave way to his forehead.

When you pulled back, you could see a dark hue of blush dusting his light grey cheeks. He seemed a little surprised himself, before smiling wider and softer than before. He reached into his suit, pulling out the small white flower he always wore. He pinned it to your collar. "There we go. A token, to remember me by until tonight" he snickered. Your returned the laugh as he finally went to go back to his stage, wings at his coattails flapping with excitement.

"Good luck!" You called out last second. Black Sapphire gave you a little half-bow before finally being back in the limelight, bright stage illumination showering him in pale highlights to his dark attire. He almost seemed to glow under such light, only making him look more ethereal. You felt something stir in you, a warm and fluttery anxiousness from just knowing you'd see him again when the curtains closed.

[bonesvoid]

Risky Business

word count: 5.5k

contains: modern/college au, no preestablished romantic relationships (viktor and reader are besties that torment jayce /hj), frat bro/lacrosse player!jayce, honors student!viktor, art kid!reader, switch!jayce, dom!viktor, switch!reader, bottom!jayce, top!viktor, alcohol, weed, drug use, stoner!viktor & stoner!reader, oral sex (blowjob & pussy eat), anal sex, cock milking, safe sex & proper use of lube!!! (wrap it before you tap it & never do anal without lube), doggy style, too many mentions of prostate/cock/dick/pussy/cunt, praise kink, corruption kink, virgin!jayce, teasing, praise, pet names (golden boy/darling/sweetheart/baby), vaginal sex, somewhat animalistic/rough sex, we swallow not spit, cervix bruising, multiple orgasms, jayce aims to please, jayce’s cock is too powerful, lightweight!jayce (bro can't handle the weed), viktor and reader are menaces, one off mention of public sex, humiliation if you squint

summary: jayce embarks on a spiritual journey of sex, drugs, and rock n' roll with the help of his two hottest classmates at his fraternity's risky business themed party.

a/n: shoutout to this fic's beta reader @zevrra <3 they're awesome and write amazing arcane content!

Stale booze, pungent smoke from loosely rolled joints, and people making out in every room of the house are the trifecta of a typical frat house party. Yet, things have been turned up to a hundred and fifty for Greek Week’s Battle of the Greeks, each frat and sorority house on the Row competing to be the Greek Life chapter. For Piltover University’s Sigma Phi Delta, Greek Week means maintaining their incumbent title. 

Jayce, the newest recruit and brother, has the most unfortunate task for the party: keeping drunken idiots from destroying every inch of the frat house. Not that he minds, of course! Despite his charming looks and demeanor, Jayce Talis despises parties. Sure, a party of twenty people or less is fine, but a party at this level of insanity? Pure nightmare fuel.

To make matters worse for poor Jayce, someone from Sigma Phi Delta (he has his suspicion of who was responsible, a certain snobby blonde named Allira Salo) had suggested Risky Business as the theme for this year’s Battle of the Greeks. Now, here’s Jayce, standing by the drinks table in nothing but grey boxers, crew socks, and the longest button down he could find. D.M.S.R. by Prince plays over the speakers, a staple from the movie and the perfect party song.

Jayce nurses a Red Solo cup of cheap liquor in his hands, but he hadn’t taken a single sip. Whenever a frat brother or chatty drunk girl would come up to him, Jayce would feign drinking and laugh like a gleeful drunkard, playing along in the hopes they would skitter away to their next victim.

“Not much of a drinker, huh?” someone shouts to him over the loud beat of the funk track. Jayce looks down–he has to look down at everyone on the campus–and sees you, a classmate from his ART 106 class, Drawing for Non-Majors. Everyone pursuing a degree at Piltover University is required to take a “Creativity and Creative Development” class as part of their core curriculum. Drawing for Non-Majors happens to be the only art Jayce believes he could net an easy ‘A’ in. 

“How could you tell?” he yells back, as the music switches to The Dream is Always the Same, a somewhat psychedelic song. You tease the rim of your cup, bubbling lemon-lime soda inside, “You’re the least giddy frat boy at the party.”

Jayce eyes the way you guide your manicured finger around the cup and has to tear away his gaze to answer, “Yeah, makes sense. I got tasked with ‘drunk dumbass’ duty, so it’s better to be sober if some ass tries to pick a fight and break something.”

You give a nod and hold up your cup to Jayce, “Care for some Sprite then?”

Jayce’s eyes widen at your offer, “But you,” he blinks his surprise away, “That’s your drink.”

“Sharing is caring,” you chuckle. 

Jayce grabs the cup from you and examines it; never has he taken an already consumed drink from someone else, nonetheless from a cute girl like you. It’s like an indirect kiss! Oh, Jayce Talis–the cheesy romantic–is not one to kiss and tell, but he could count on one hand how many people he has kissed. Now or never. Jayce takes a timid sip from the cup and relishes in the refreshing taste, “Oh God, I needed that.”

“Good!” you take the cup back and down the rest of it. Now, this is an indirect kiss! Jayce’s tanned cheeks warm up at the realization and he fans himself with his free hand. Seeing his overheated face, you tilt your head and ask, “Too hot? Wanna come with me to a cooler spot?”

“Oh! Uh,” the frat boy runs through the possible outcomes if he does or doesn’t follow you. What if a fight happens while he’s occupied? What if you think he’s a bummer for not joining you? What if– “You don’t have to,” you add on and shrug, “If you don’t wanna.”

“No!” he exclaims, a bit too loud. Jayce quickly masks his enthusiasm with a fake cough, “Lead the way,” he flashes you his ‘Golden Boy’ smile. Please don’t think I’m an inexperienced loser.

“Cool,” you toss your cup in the nearby trash can and grab Jayce by the wrist, barely able to wrap your whole hand around it. Through the mobs of partying sorority girls, people cheering on a frat brother’s keg stand, and folks getting way too into dancing, you lead Jayce outside to the back of the frat house. A few party attendees are lounging about in the backyard, some of which are couples making out or people exchanging joints. 

“Viktor!” you call out. Sitting around some abandoned lawn chairs, a thin man with shaggy shoulder-length hair and a flannel perks up. He waves the two of you over and you each find a chair to occupy. Jayce examines the stickers on Viktor’s cane.

“Hey,” Viktor greets you both, his accent rich and thick.

“H- Hey,” Jayce attempts to be nonchalant, but fails miserably when his baritone voice cracks into soprano range. He recognizes Viktor from many of his engineering classes, but he never had the opportunity to chat one on one with him. Yet, judging by the hordes of engineering students seeking the cane user out for tutoring, Jayce doesn’t want to come off as needing such assistance–well, some assistance would be appreciated–or that he would use Viktor for it.

“Cute,” Viktor lets out a deep chuckle, honey amber eyes glowing almost eerily under the full moon’s light, “The Golden Boy’s a bit shy, huh?” 

“Oh, for sure,” you snort. Jayce pouts and averts his eyes from the two of you, only to have you tilt his chin back up with the tip of your finger, “We only tease in good faith,” you coo, “I take it that you know Jayce, Vik?”

“Everyone does,” he answers. Jayce pouts again and Viktor stifles back a laugh, “Also he’s my classmate in about half of my classes,” the pretty haired–Pretty haired?! Jayce, get it together!–boy leans closer and Jayce can smell the familiar stink of weed on his flannel, “I thoroughly enjoyed seeing your Rube Goldberg machine unfold during our class with Professor Hemingdinger.”

“Haha, yeah, that machine,” the engineering student cringes. You raise your eyebrows at the exchange, “Oh no, what happened?”

“The concept was ingenious, I must say,” states Viktor, “A creative way to dispense a cup of coffee for our dear professor,” Jayce buries his face into his sleeves of his varsity jacket, as Viktor continues, “However, Jayce miscalculated the placement of the coffee pot.”

“Don’t tell me,” your cheeks puff up to hold back your laughter. 

“Cue our poor professor drenched in coffee!” the cane user laughs. You break and join in, boisterous laughter ringing through Jayce’s ears. The frat boy peers up at the exchange and comments, “At- At least, it was lukewarm coffee…”

“Thank God,” you calm down from your laughing fit, “If it was any warmer, I’m afraid that you would have been sued,” Viktor nods along in agreement. Jayce runs his large, veiny hands through his clean-cut hair, “Okay, okay. Enough is enough.”

“Sorry,” you throw an arm around Jayce’s shoulders and pull him close, the scent of your strawberry perfume strong and intoxicating to the frat boy, “We can make it up to you, if you want.”

“How so?” he inquires.

You give Viktor a wink and he returns it with a thumbs up. Viktor snatches his worn out satchel from the leaf-covered ground and rummages through its content. It takes a moment or two before Viktor procures the object of desire, a baggie of green flowery clumps.

“Please tell me that’s oregano,” Jayce pleads.

“Nope,” the cane user confirms, “One hundred percent pure marijuana.”

“Don’t worry! Vik has a med card, so it’s like… totally legal,” you reassure Jayce with a pat on the cheek. Jayce bites his tongue to prevent himself from saying something utterly stupid, “Are you sure it’s okay? We won’t get in trouble?” Okay, nevermind, he does say something utterly stupid.

“As long as you’re not a narc,” replies Viktor. He sets the baggie down and pulls a few more items from his satchel: rolling paper, filter paper, and a grinder, “Watch the master at work,” 

Viktor grinds up a clump of flower; once properly grounded up to his liking, he places the filter paper on one end of the rolling paper, followed by the flower. He rolls it up flawlessly and seals it, producing a perfectly made joint, before making two more joints.

“Here,” he holds out a joint to Jayce. With shaky hands, Jayce accepts the joint with visible hesitation, almost dropping in the process. You squeeze his shoulder and murmur, “Don’t worry, the first time can be scary, but we can help you.”

“How?” questions Jayce. A sparkle of mischief flickers in your eyes, “Lemme show you,” you hop off your lawn chair and approach Viktor. You plop down on his lap and throw your legs over the arm of the chair, twirling a strand of Viktor’s tousled locks, “Light me up, baby.”

Viktor pulls out a silver lighter from his jeans pocket and you place the joint between your lips, letting it dangle. Jayce watches with bated breath, as Viktor flicks the lighter open and holds the flame by your joint. Once lit, you take a drag of it and inhale some of the smoke. You pull the joint out, cheeks puffed out with smoke, and beckon Viktor to come closer. Leaning in, you press your lips against Viktor’s and exhale, allowing the thinner man to consume the rest of the smoke, as the two of you kiss. 

Jayce gawks at the sight of you making out, the way you tug at Viktor’s hair and the way he grips at your sides stirs something inside the frat boy, “And that’s called shotgunning!” you finish the kiss up and inform Jayce, “Just make sure you part your lips before I shotgun you, or else we’ll waste some good smoke,” you offer him a lopsided smile, “Wanna give it a try?”

“Sure,” he nods. You move from Viktor’s lap and onto Jayce’s, the joint still lit in your hand. Jayce swallows any fear away, as you lay the joint between your lips and breathe in the smoke, the lit end lighting up with the inhalation. You pass the joint over to Viktor for him to hold and he steals a few hits, as you moved closer and closer and–

Jayce’s lips connect with yours and he parts them just enough for you to push smoke into his mouth. It travels down his throat and into his lungs, burning and irritating. Jayce breaks away from the kiss to cough, spluttering out hot smoke. You rub his back while he hacks up a lung, “Yikes, yeah, that happens a lot to beginners.” 

“Have some water,” Viktor passes off his water bottle and Jayce snatches it, drinking up all the liquid like a dehydrated man crawling through the Sahara Desert. He coughs a bit more up and finally settles down, “When does this-” he cuts himself off, as a fuzzy feeling suddenly clouds his mind. Jayce closes his eyes, then opens them, and then closes them again, “Wow,” he giggles, “Feels nice…”

“Please tell me that he didn’t just get high off one hit,” begs Viktor.

“I think he got high off one hit,” you answer. You prepare yourself to disembark from Jayce’s lap, but stop yourself, “Jayce,” he looks at you with wide eyes, “Yeah?”

“Why are you hard?” you question him. 

Jayce’s eyeballs nearly popped out of their sockets at your inquiry. He jerks his head down and sees his predicament, a noticeable tent in his boxers. His face turns a deep shade or crimson red, “N- No, fuck, I’m so so so sorry- I don’t know why-” 

You place a finger against his lips to shush, “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll take care of you,” you whisper into his ear and stroke his cheek with your thumb, “I know for a fact that you find me and Viktor very attractive, mhm? I saw the way you looked at us while we kissed.”

“And so what if I do?” the frat boy retorts, puffing out his chest in an effort to appear manly and confident. Yet, his resolve crumbles the moment you press your chest up against his torso, the fabric of your shirts being the only barrier, “We find you very attractive, too.”

Between the haze dulling his brain and the lustful stares of two stunning individuals on him, Jayce Talis caves in and whimpers to you, “Please, take care of me.”

“Good boy,” you peck him on the lips, “Show us the way to your room.”

Like an obedient pup, Jayce rapidly nods and helps you off his lap. Viktor nearly chokes on his joint when he sees Jayce’s boner, “What the fuck, you’re huge,” and earns a slap to the back of the head from you, “Don’t announce it!” you hiss to him, “He’s ours.” 

Those two or so words send shivers down Jayce’s spine. He’s ours. All Jayce ends is to be wanted; his efforts on the lacrosse team, his performance in class, everything he does is motivated by his need to be praised. He squeezes himself between you and Viktor in a line as a makeshift hiding spot for his boner and guides the two of you back inside the frat house. You three weave and dodge various obstacles, such as neglected soda cans and a sorority girl threatening to puke on you. Upstairs, a few people are scattered about the hallway, but none pay any mind to you all. You make your way to Jayce’s room and he opens the door, allowing you and Viktor to enter.

Jayce’s room is somewhat stereotypical of an athletic frat boy with messy bedsheets and posters of famous athletes on his wall. However, he has a few so-called nerdy things in his room, including a mechanical model of the Solar System and a Lego-built U.S.S Enterprise from Star Trek. You make yourself comfortable on Jayce’s bed while Viktor borrows the desk chair and Jayce sits on the floor. 

“Sooooooo…” the lacrosse player twiddles his thumbs, “How do we fix this?”

“What do you mean?” Viktor scoffs, “Haven’t you gotten a blowjob or a handjob before?”

Jayce’s silence speaks volumes and you connect the dots, “Oh. My. God. Jayce fucking Talis is a virgin.”

“No! I’m- well-” the virginal accused racks his brain to deny the allegations, “It’s- Ugh, okay, it’s true,” he confirms to you and Viktor, “It’s not that I have a vow of celibacy or anything, just that I wanted to save it for someone special.”

“It’s kinda cute,” you giggle softly while Viktor jokes, “And they say chivalry is dead. Good on you for defying frat bro stereotypes.”

“Are you gonna tease me all night or is one of you gonna choke on my fucking cock already?” Jayce’s filter went offline, the effects of weed taking more of an effect. 

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” answers Viktor. You blow him a ‘good luck’ kiss and get cozy for the show. Viktor rises from the chair and leads Jayce to the bed; he sits down next to you, now face level to Jayce’s pelvis, “Drop those boxers, Golden Boy.”

Jayce tugs down his boxers and haphazardly shakes them off his legs. Now free from its confinement, his cock bounces freely, on display for you and Viktor to admire. Viktor sizes up Jayce’s dick—as thick as his wrist and as long as one and a half pencils stacked—and mumble to himself, “Damn, this is a virgin killer.”

“Impressed?” Jayce strikes the Superman pose and smiles. Viktor wraps a hand around his cock and gives it a light tug, watching as Jayce’s cockiness vanishes in an instant, “Yeah. It’s pretty impressive,” Viktor lines his lips up to the top of Jayce’s dick and opens his mouth, carefully sliding him inside. A soft moan tumbles Jayce’s lips from the sensation, as Viktor’s hot and wet mouth costs his cock. Inch by inch, Viktor takes more and more of Jayce’s length until he gets all but an inch in, a small bulge pointing from under his Adam’s Apple. Testing the waters, Viktor goes agonizingly slow with the blowjob, taking his sweet time to pull back until only the tip is inside. 

“Please go faster,” Jayce whines. Viktor lets out a muffled chuckle, the vibration ever so pleasant against Jayce’s shaft, and picks up the pace. He bobs his head up and down the length of Jayce’s cock, occasionally running his tongue down the prominent vein underneath and twirling it around the mushroom tip. Combined with the weed, Jayce is experiencing pure bliss, as he jerks his hips forward and shoves his dick deeper down Viktor’s throat. The smaller man gags at the sudden change, but quickly recovers, letting Jayce fuck his throat. Jayce thrusts his pelvis forward and slams his cock deep inside Viktor, gripping the receiver’s shoulders for extra support. Spit leaks from Viktor’s mouth, his hooked nose smacking into Jayce’s well-trimmed pubes, as Jayce assaults his throat with his fat cock. 

“Oh, shit!” the lacrosse player grunts, “I think I’m gonna-” he doesn’t have time to warn Viktor before climaxing, shooting sticky hot cum down the other man’s throat. Once positive that Jayce had finished orgasming, Viktor unhinges himself from the taller man’s cock and coughs up some cum. He swipes it off his lips and licks it off his fingers, “Salty.”

“Did you swallow all of that?” you ask, eyes as big as saucers, “He came for- like- two whole minutes.”

“Spitters are quitters,” he jests in retort. You playfully smack his arm and turn your attention to Jayce, “How are you feeling?” 

“Amazing,” he pants, face flustered, “Just one issue, though.”

“What’s up?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“I’m still hard,” the frat bro points downward, his cock still hard as a rock. Viktor looks over at you and rasps, “Tapping you in.”

“More than happy to have my turn, take five to recover,” you tell Viktor. He leaves the bed and returns to the desk chair, massaging his throat. You focus in on Jayce and pull him onto the bed, “Ready to try some pussy?” you coo.

Eager, Jayce nods in response, his mouth salivating at the thought of eating you out. You obligate his desires and strip yourself of your jeans, leaving only your cherry red undies left, “Take them off and have a look.”

Jayce follows your command without question, pulling your panties down your thighs and off your legs. You spread your legs open and Jayce bears witness to his first ever not porn-related pussy. Some wetness spills from your slit and onto the bed, you’re simply drenched. He hooks his hands around your legs and pulls you closer to his face, inhaling the smell of your divine cunt. The scent alone sends Jayce into a needy state, rutting his weeping cock against the mattress for some form of relief. Yet, he wants—no, needs—to focus on the task at hand, pleasing you.

“Give it a try, I’ll guide you,” you inform Jayce. With a timid nod, the frat bro dives right in and licks a long stripe from the bottom of your entrance to the top of your clit. You shudder and curl your toes, as Jayce experiments with a variety of methods. He sucks on your clit, first gentle then hard, altering to see which one you like more. It seems that you prefer hard, taking sharp breaths whenever he sucks like so. Above, you rip off your T-shirt and bra, freeing your breasts. You gesture for Viktor to come over and he does, finding a suitable position before latching onto one of your tits. Sweet mewls escape your lips while your boys have their way with you, Jayce now confident enough to devour your cunt like an animal and Viktor groping at your unoccupied tit while he suckles the other. 

“Fuck!” you croak out a shaky moan, as the knot in your stomach snaps, releasing a wet wave onto Jayce’s mouth and face. He happily laps up your juices, consuming every ounce he possibly could. You give yourself a minute to recover, Viktor laying beside you and tracing miscellaneous shapes on your skin while Jayce rests his head on your thighs. 

“Good job, boys,” you announce. You give each man a tender kiss on the lips as a reward, “You two should make out with each other.”

“Okay!” Jayce cheerily complies while Viktor merely shrugs. Viktor takes your spot on the bed and lays down fully. Jayce hovers over him, one leg on each side of Viktor’s petite waist. Only once did Jayce Talis ever kissed a boy and that had happened in middle school, but kissing boys is just like kissing girls… completely nerve-racking! 

“Just kiss me already,” huffs Viktor, yanking Jayce by the collar and slamming his lips against his. Jayce lets out a surprised yelp, but adjusts. Viktor’s free hand travels around Jayce’s waist and to his back, landing on his ass. He smacks Jayce’s ass, earning a moan from the other man, and begins groping it without remorse.

“Dude,” Viktor pauses the kiss to get your attention, “You have to feel this ass, it’s like pound cake.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” you make your way to Jayce’s backside, grabbing his ass and feeling it up, “Damn, Jayce! You have a whole bakery here!”

“Uh, thanks?” Jayce answers, unsure if that’s a compliment or not. You give Jayce your own smack on the ass, “Nice ass, Golden Boy. Now, get back to making out with my best friend.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he exclaims before he resumes kissing Viktor. Meanwhile, you utilize this opportunity to ‘rub one out’, as you play with your clit and folds. You shove a finger inside and whimper, visualizing Jayce’s finger in its place. Another finger is soon added later and you bite your tongue to suppress any ungodly noises. 

“Hey, is it cool if I fuck him first?” Viktor asks you, receiving a weak thumbs up in return because you’re too busy jerking off to properly speak, “I’ll take that as a yes. Jayce, go get a condom from my bag.”

Jayce picks up Viktor’s satchel from the side of the bed and peeks inside, scooting various items out of the way before locating a roll of condoms, “I didn’t think you were the kinda guy to have a whole roll of condoms in your bag, Viktor.”

“Blame that one over there,” Viktor points over to you, who’s too entranced in pleasure to comment, “She likes to fuck everywhere.”

Jayce blushes at the thought; if you like to fuck everywhere, did you ever fuck in the arts classroom? His cock twitches when he imagines you and Viktor fucking in that classroom. Maybe, they’ll let me join them next time, Jayce ponders. 

Viktor shimmies off his pants and boxers, revealing his own equally impressive cock. It’s definitely not as long as Jayce’s, but Viktor rivals him in terms of girth. The man in question  rips off a condom from the roll and opens up its packaging, rolling the condom down his shaft, “Ready?”

“Wait, why am I the bottom?” he huffs.

You and Viktor stare at Jayce in silence, only the muffled echos of the party downstairs can be heard.

“Okay, you’re right, but still,” he concedes. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you,” states Viktor, genuine care in lieu of dry humor. Jayce smiles to himself at the reassurance and positions himself above Viktor, his hole dangerously close to his dick. 

“Got any lube?” asks Viktor.

“Yeah, in the top drawer of my dresser,” responds Jayce.

“Sweetheart,” the smaller man calls out to you, “Be a dear and grab the lube. No one’s raw-dogging anal tonight.”

“On it!” you approach Jayce’s dresser and open the top drawer. Among the stacks of underwear and socks, you find a bottle of lube, half of it already used, “Want me to lube you up, Jayce?”

“Sure,” he consents. You squirm some lube on your hand and Viktor pries Jayce’s cheeks open, granting you access to his hole. Jayce hisses at the coldness while you lube up his hole, taking time to finger him loose for extra measure, “All ready!”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Viktor smiles and pecks you on the lips, “Now, enjoy the show,” he lines his cock to Jayce’s asshole and guides him downward. Viktor’s cock pierces through Jayce’s untouched hole and Jayce swears he sees stars in that moment. The feeling of a dick in his ass is definitely a new feeling, as Jayce gives himself grace to adjust to Viktor’s size. The other man strokes the sides of Jayce’s legs as a means of distraction, “Take all the time you need, darling.”

Pain soon morphs into pleasure and Jayce moans loudly, “Fuck! This is nice!” He begins to ride Viktor’s cock, his own dick bouncing up and down with each movement. His tongue rolls out of his mouth, the overwhelmed pleasure incapacitating any reasonable thought in Jayce’s head. Jayce steadies himself with the help of his headboard, continuing to hop on Viktor’s dick like a rabbit in heat. Cum drips from his cock onto Viktor’s pelvis, but he pays no mind to it, too fixated on Jayce’s blissed out expression. Viktor joins in with Jayce’s bouncing and thrusts his dick upward whenever Jayce goes downwards. He positions his cock just right to hit Jayce’s prostate, sending full body shivers through the larger man.

“There, there!” Jayce eggs Viktor on. Using Jayce’s hips for support, Viktor pistons his dick in and out of Jayce, relishing in each inclited moan and plea from the lacrosse player. To Jayce, each collision against his prostate feels like winning at the slot machines. One final thrust grants Jayce with the jackpot win, as he climaxes and coats Viktor’s torso in cum. Viktor follows afterwards and grunts, spilling his cum into the condom.

“Congratulations,” Viktor lets out a pant, rubbing circular motions with his thumbs against Jayce’s aides, “You just lost your anal virginity.”

Jayce tries to reply, but all that comes out of his mouth is incoherent babbles of pleasure subsiding. With Viktor’s assistance, he carefully slides off Viktor’s dick and promptly collapses on the bed beside him, his poor hole throbbing. Viktor removes the condom from his now flaccid cock and ties it shut; he tosses it into the small trash can and eyes you up, “I think he might be done for the night.”

“I’m not!” Jayce refutes, “See, look!” he gestures to his cock, still hard. 

“Jesus Christ, did someone spike your drink with Viagra? How are you still hard?” you sputter, “This calls for drastic measures.”

“Drastic measures?” questions Viktor. 

“I’m gonna milk that cock,” you proclaim.

You and Viktor swap places while Jayce regains his energy for another fuck. Engulfing Jayce in a side hug, you quietly hum to him, “What position do you wanna do? I’m a fan of missionary and doggy style.” 

“Can we do doggy style?” he requests.

You snicker, “You’re not gonna be beating the golden retriever boy allegations anytime soon,” you roll over and get on your hands and knees, “I’m all yours for the taking, Golden Boy.”

Jayce rises up from the bed and gets behind you, your ass hitched up and slick leaking down your inner thighs. He gropes your ass a bit and gives it a few smacks as playback, “Nice,” he mumbles under his breath. 

“Are you gonna keep admiring me or are you gonna fuck me already?” you sway your hips at Jayce, his cock twitching hard. Viktor tosses him an unused condom and Jayce rolls the rubber over the entirety of his shaft. Now properly prepared, he lines his dick up to your entrance and rubs it with the tip, making sure you’re wet enough for him to enter. You let out a low whine and Jayce takes it as a sign to slide in, doing so methodically and with as much gentleness as he could muster. 

“So big…” you mewl, taking each inch of Jayce’s length like a trooper. By the time he finally bottoms out, there’s a noticeable bulge by the lower half of your stomach. Jayce caresses your stomach and finds the bulge, silently gawking at the sheer power of his size. On the other hand, you’re able to faint if Jayce Talis doesn’t fuck you yet, so you take matters into your own hands and pull back a bit on his cock before smacking your bottom against it. Jayce snaps into focus and grabs your hips, digging his nails into your supple flesh. His chest presses up against your back and he groans in your ear, “Eager, aren’t you?”

“Says the guy who just lost his virginity five minutes ago,” you fire back. Jayce responds with a sharp thrust and you replace your sass with a shameless moan. The frat bro starts thrusting in and out, making small modifications to his movements that incite the biggest reaction from you. Jayce finds it very hard not to pin you down and fuck the life out of you, he’s a gentleman like his mamá raised him to be. However, you’re more than willing to get the life fucked out of you, as you beg to Jayce, “Please! Fuck me, fuck me like an animal! I want you to destroy my cunt!”

All logic, all reason, went out the window the moment you tell Jayce to destroy your cunt. He buries your face into the bedsheets and latches a hand onto one of your tit while the other locks around your waist. You realize what a big man Jayce Talis is when he pins you, easily trapping you under his size. The sound of skin slapping against skin and filthy moans fill the bedroom, as Jayce growls to you, “You want me to destroy your cunt, huh?” 

Smack! 

“You want me to bruise that cervix of you, make you unable to walk for days?”

Smack! Smack! 

“I wonder what kind of excuse you would have to use to justify such a prolonged absence.”

Smack! Smack! Smack! 

“Sorry, Professor! I missed last class because Golden Boy Jayce Talis destroyed my tight, little cunt!”

“Jayce, please, please!” you sob against the bedsheets, tears of pleasure and arousal running down your cheeks, “Bruise my cervix! Do whatever you want, just fuck me!”

Jayce grits his teeth and picks up his pace, the bed rocking and creaking with each thrust. He looks over at an awfully quiet Viktor, only to see the stoner stroke himself off at the sight of his best friend getting fucked. That pushes Jayce to the limit and he lifts you up, holding against his body while he relentlessly fucks you. Any noise that comes out of your pretty little mouth is either pitiful cries or moans forced out by Jayce’s pistoning.

“Ready for me, pretty girl?” he rasps, as his third orgasm of the night builds up, “Want me to fill you up?”

“Yes! Yes!” you wail. In a flash, Jayce flips you over so you’re facing him and his lips clash against yours, a passionate kiss to silence his orgasmic moans while he climaxes. Near the desk, Viktor climaxes, as well, covering his mouth with his hand to suppress his moans. Your walls clench around Jayce’s shaft and you keep him inside your pussy until you milk every last drop from his beast of a cock. 

Finally flaccid, Jayce pulls out of your cunt and falls exhausted by your side, completely drained. Viktor joins the two of you on the bed and snuggles up close to your left while you rub Jayce’s back on your right. 

“That was so hot,” comments Viktor.

“Agree,” you tack on.

Jayce mumbles something against the bedsheets, but neither you nor Viktor can decipher what he says. You turn on your side and hug Jayce from behind, “Congratulations on losing your virginity, we’ll get you an ice cream cake to celebrate it tomorrow.”

“Yay…” he weakly cheers, “I love ice cream cake,” you chuckle quietly and kiss his back a few times, “Good job, very good job.”

“Hey, where’s my aftercare?” Viktor mockingly frowns. You pull away from Jayce and kiss him on the lips; you then pull away and pinch his cheeks, “Ouch!” he hisses, “You’re a dick.”

“And you’re my bestest friend in the whole wide world!” you tease. Viktor rolls his eyes and sets back into the bed. With a handsome boy on each side of you, you smile fondly to yourself and bask in the glory. 

“We’re definitely doing this again.”