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aurorawritestoescape · 2 months

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SWEET CHERRY || Joel Miller x f!reader || 4,8k

Summary: Joel takes your virginity. Gently, slowly, talking you through it.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, pwp, big not specified legal age gap, virginity loss, insecure reader, soft!Joel, soft!dom vibes, praise kink, size kink, mirror sex, f/m oral, fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, aftercare. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no physical description.

A/n: here’s my first virginity loss fic, friends! Hope you will like it❤️ Joel whispers ‘thank you’ into @milla-frenchy ‘s ear for beta-ing😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

MASTERLIST

Joel is waiting for you in his truck, parked a block away from your house. He told you once that you didn’t want anyone to see you with an old man like himself. You kissed his scruffy cheek that time and assured him that he wasn’t old. Yes, he was older than you, much much older but you were an adult, very mature for your age and also you didn’t care. You loved him.

Joel is a real man, not like the silly boys who always try to pick you up. He looks like a real man, with gray patches in his stubble, his tired piercing eyes and wrinkles around them that you love to kiss so much. His body, big and broad, can easily envelop you whole like a warm cloud. The cloud usually smells like cigarettes and whiskey but you tell yourself, "he smells like a real man," and when you nuzzle his neck, that scent alone makes you soak your panties.

You hop into his truck with the happiest smile on your face, excitement and nerves swirling in your stomach. You’re wearing a red lacy set to show him how mature you are underneath his favorite dress, white with little red cherries on it. Joel always compliments you when you wear it and makes sure to kiss every single cherry on your chest.

Today is the day Joel is going to pop your cherry. You’re going to lose your virginity to the love of your life.

Joel greets you with a soft kiss, and while you’re a little hazy from his taste in your mouth, he starts the car.

“Where are we going?” you ask but you don’t really care. You’d go anywhere with him.

“A motel, baby. Only the best for ya.”

You almost squeal at the idea of you two having a whole room to yourselves. You usually spend time in his truck or he drives you to the outskirts of the town, far from the prying eyes. You love it there— lying on the soft grass and stargazing with his strong arms wrapped around you.

Joel is a man and men have needs so you give him a handie now and then but he never makes you do anything you don’t want to. He’s a gentleman.

He’s getting a room while you’re waiting for him outside of the reception, nervously pacing a spot at the parking lot. What if you fuck up and he sees that you’re just a silly girl, too young for him? What if it hurts too much? You’ve practiced with a toy but you know he’s much bigger.

You’re chewing on your lower lip, widened eyes glued to the ground, and miss the moment when Joel comes up to you.

"Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart?" he cups your cheek, searching for your eyes, and you smile, enjoying the warmth of his giant palm in spite of the Texas sun, beating down on you both.

"Just a little nervous," you admit, looking up at his handsome face. Joel gives you an understanding smile and his gruff voice immediately calms you down when he says,

"Don't be, darlin’. I'll be gentle with you. And we can stop whenever you want."

“‘k,” you mumble with a nod and take a deep breath. You want it and you know, it will be perfect.

The motel room smells like cigarette smoke and old furniture but you don’t mind. You don’t care about its peeling off wallpaper, the flickering lights in the bathroom or the stained bedding with a pattern that looks like spider webs. You’re staring at it with disgust on your face, wondering who would choose such an ugly cover.

Two big hands on your hips bring you back from your thoughts and move you around. Joel locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing and curious.

“You’re so quiet today, babygirl. Sure you wanna do this?”

“Yes, Joel. Please,” you reply hastily, scared he’ll change his mind.

He gives you a little smile and pinches your chin between his thick fingers. His touch, his scent, his gaze, everything about him washes away your fears and worries. He’s huge and safe and you trust him to make this day special. For the both of you.

He leans down and kisses you, his lips warm and slightly chafed, his stubble and scruffy beard rubbing your sensitive skin but you’re enjoying him too much to notice. Like a little flower you are reaching up to your only sun - him. You’re drunk on the sensation of his tongue, licking assertively into your moaning mouth. Your pussy tingles and you feel yourself gush more and more. With Joel’s lips brushing the corner of your mouth you hear him whisper, “Ready, sweetheart?”

You nod, rubbing your cheek against his and then follow him to the bed, your little hand in his, giant, warm.

Joel sits down and you stand between his spread thighs. You nervously shift on your feet under his dark gaze as he looks you up and down and bucks his hips. His bulge is huge and you swallow loudly.

“Can I take your dress off, babygirl?”

With a quiet ‘yes’ you turn around so he could unzip you. You’re facing a mirror now, hanging on a wardrobe door, eyes locked with your reflection. Fear and anxiety paint your features so you take a deep breath again, not wanting to look like a scared little mouse. You want him to see you ready for what you two are about to do.

You giggle when Joel’s knuckles graze your soft skin, tickling you, gliding down along your back as your body erupts in goosebumps. Joel acknowledges your reaction with a soft chuckle and then his warm lips press to your exposed waist. You smile, helping him take your dress off.

“Fuck,” Joel mumbles as you turn around to face him, “I’m sorry, darlin’,” he apologises for the cursing as his obsidian eyes are gliding over your body, wrapped in the red lace as if you’re a present gifted to him. “You’re making my head spin. Are ya wearin’ it for me, baby?”

You reply with a shy ‘yes’ and he groans, palming himself.

“Naughty girl. Killing me over here,” he fake complains, wetting his lower lip.

His lustful gaze, barely noticeable shaking of his gruff voice, his bulge growing in his jeans— all the signs of his desire make your heart sing and core burn with need.

“Please, Joel.” You press your thighs together, desperate for any pressure, and he nods,

“Yes, babygirl, I know, I know. Let’s make you feel good.”

His palms placed on your hips turn you around, so you’d face the mirror again, and he pulls you down on his lap. You bite your lip, when his stiffness twitches under your left asscheek, and take a sharp breath, being reminded of how huge his cock is. Will you be able to take him?

As if reading your mind, Joel rasps against your shoulder,

“I’m big, honey, but ain’t nothing to worry about. We gonna get ya ready, yeah?”

“Yes, Joel, I trust you.”

“‘s good, babygirl. Jus’ relax and let me do the work.”

You whimper, imagining ‘the work’ he’s about to do. With a hum Joel places his hands on your inner thighs and spreads them apart. You lift your head from his hands to the reflection of you two in the mirror. You’re sitting on his lap, so small in comparison with his huge frame. He’s nuzzling the crease of your neck, and your nipples perk up under the thin fabric of your bra. His scent, his body make your pussy melt into your panties and your fear you’re going to soak them through and stain his jeans.

Your gasp breaks the silence in the room when you see and feel his hand slither to the apex of your thighs. With one arm wrapped around your waist, Joel cups your clothed pussy with the other hand and you breathe out his name.

“Yes, sweetheart, I’m right here. Fuck, ya soaked.” He gently sucks on your neck, stroking your seam with his thumb through a red lace, covering your pussy. You mewl and wriggle in his lap impatiently and he growls, when his cock twitches under your ass.

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby.”

His thumb slides under your panties and he pulls the gusset to the side exposing your wet folds to his and your eyes in the mirror.

He’s never gone that far, never seen you like this and your whole body vibrates with a heady mix of excitement and nerves. Your cheeks burn as embarrassment adds to all the emotions that are swirling in your stomach. You’ve never been that exposed for anyone, no one has ever witnessed your wet desire, coating your folds. As if sensing your discomfort Joel starts whispering words of reassurance in your ear, his gaze set on your glistening cunt in the mirror.

“Look at this pretty pussy, fuck, she’s beautiful. You’re beautiful, sweetheart.”

You whine, trying to close your legs but he stops you, his hand pressing on your inner thigh, rubbing your skin there.

“She’s crying for me, see? My cock’s cryin’ for her too. And I’ll make her feel good, baby. Gonna make her drool even more.”

You nod, fluttering your eyes shut at the sensations of his thick fingers grazing your hardening clit just barely. Suddenly Joel slightly bites on your earlobe and rasps,

“Open your eyes, babygirl. Want you to see how I’m gonna make you come.”

You do what he says and see the hand rise up from your belly to your chest and he pulls your bra down, exposing your breasts. He groans at the sight of your pebbled nipples and kneads your tit with his warm palm.

The other hand returns to your soft pussy and he starts stroking your twitching clit with his thumb.

He’s playing you like his guitar, making you sing for him with a calloused pad of his finger, brushing over your bud up and down, up and down, like it’s a string of his favorite instrument, at the same time twitching your nipples. His movements are slow and gentle but precise and determined, and you’re reduced to a moaning crying mess in a matter of seconds.

“Please, please, please— ,” you’re begging, barely breathing, lips brushing his scruffy cheek. You can’t watch him and you in the mirror anymore, it’s too much for your mind, for your eyes. You try to pace yourself, nuzzling his face.

“Yes, baby, I’ll make you come, soon. So soon,” he replies to your pleas as his tongue licks your lower lip and you open your mouth, letting him in. He’s kissing you passionately as he shifts his hand a little, making his fingers cover your sopping hole while his thumb is playing with your clit.

Joel traces your entrance with his middle finger and then slowly pushes it in. You gasp at the sensation and your walls clench hard around it, as he’s inserting it to the knuckle.

“Already warm and wet. Good girl.”

You dare to glance in the mirror and you see him plunge his digit in and out of your tight weeping hole, slowly, with a steady rhythm.

“Have ya been practicing like I asked you, babygirl?”

“Yes,” you reply with your brows pulled together and mouth slightly opened.

“Yeah, I see that,” he smiles into your cheek, “ya taking me well. We can add another one.”

As soon as he says it, his index finger joins the middle one in your slicked up channel and you feel the stretch, though it burns just a little, and you smile with relief.

Joel continues fingering you, and, to your horror, you hear squelching sounds, coming from your pussy. The pleasure is growing but you mewl with embarrassment, “Oh, no.”

Joel’s quick to comfort you, whispering in your ear,

“‘s a great sound, babygirl. Means she’s ready for me. All this juice gonna help me slide right inside ya.”

You nod and tilt your head back, resting it on his shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut as his movements take you higher with every pump. Everything disappears, what’s left is only you and him, his fingers in your pussy, his broad chest at your back, his thick cock pulsating under your ass. You're so gone with ecstasy, that you don’t notice the third finger inserted into your widening hole.

“Gonna make you come now, sweetheart,” Joel gruffs and curves his fingers. He starts shaking his hand, not moving his digits in and out but keeping them hooked into your pussy, making vibrations with his hand. He’s hitting your clit with the heel of his palm and soon you unravel, crying and shaking so hard he has to keep you on his lap, holding you with his strong arm wrapped around your torso. Your face is twisted in euphoria but you don’t see it, your surroundings morph into a burst of fireworks behind your eyelids. Of course you had good orgasms before but never such a hard one.

Joel hums with satisfaction, kissing your temple, your cheek, your half opened lips, mumbling,

“That’s my girl… yeah, c’mon… god, she’s squeezing me hard… perfect little pussy.”

He’s embracing you tight through the aftershocks and when you finally still, he cups your sloppy cunt and holds it, keeping it warm as his whole body slightly sways from side to side. The motion is lulling you to sleep. Pleasant tingling in your body, his arms, which are giving you comfort, his heart, beating with a steady rhythm against your back, all of it makes your eyes close and you fall into darkness.

Joel wakes you up with a kiss on your lips as if you’re his Sleeping Beauty. You’re lying on the motel bed and your Prince Charming’s hard cock is poking your thigh. Joel got undressed while you were out and as you sit up, rubbing your eyes, you can’t help but ogle his tan chest with dark hair, gray patches here and there, his broad shoulders, his soft belly and a gorgeous cock. It’s long and thick and your pussy clenches with a mixture of fear and arousal. His red wet tip makes you want to wrap your lips around it but you’re too shy to ask.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you mumble. “How long was I asleep?”

“Don’t worry. Just a few minutes. And my eyes are over here,” Joel says with a chuckle and you realize that you’ve been talking to his cock the whole time. You smile, raising your eyes to his, feeling your cheeks heat up and he rubs your shoulder,

“‘s ok, sweetie. You can look.”

He brings his hand to his bobbing member and gives it a few pumps. You see a clear drop of precum bead and involuntarily lick your lips.

He notices it and smirks, “oh, baby.”

You get bold and ask with your eyes only, they dart from his cock to his eyes.

“Yes, baby, you can play with it a little. But not too long. ‘m afraid I’ll come too soon like that and we need to put it in your needy pussy first, yeah?”

You nod and hastily sit on your hinges, getting comfortable. You hover your mouth over his glistening mushroom and then wrap your lips around it. Your tongue gently dances over the slit as you drink his salty juice. The taste sends a new surge of arousal to your entrance and you shift on your knees, feeling wetness pool between your folds and thighs. Like a shark feeling blood, Joel brings his hand to your ass and glides his palm over the globes of your cheeks and then slides his hand between your messy folds. You push your hips back, rubbing yourself against his palm and at the same time taking him further into your mouth, licking the underside sloppily, drooling over his stiffness.

“Oh, fuck, hnggg,” you hear Joel’s groan and then he slightly slaps your folds, getting your attention.

“Easy, baby, or I’m gonna feed ya all of my cum. And we want it here today,” he gives your pussy another light slap from the back and you moan, pulling away from his cock.

The next second he sits up and hastily says,

“I want one more orgasm from you. And we’ll be good to go.”

His hands gently push you to lie down and he helps to slide your bra and panties off. You take a sharp breath when the air of the room hits your soaked folds, your pussy getting completely exposed to him.

“Look at you,” Joel’s dark gaze is taking in your naked breasts, a heaving belly, and a puffy cunt, dripping for him onto the sheets.

He brings his calloused palm to your throat and slowly glides it down, barely touching your chest, grazes your perked up nipples, then moves down to your stomach and the mound and then slithers between your thighs. He cups your pussy again and you whimper when he places his index and middle finger on your folds and presses your clit between them with his thick digits. He starts rubbing it over your pussy lips, moving his hand up and down, and you moan. Your eyes roll back as you concentrate on another orgasm building but soon they open wide when you feel his mouth on your folds and clit.

He flicks the peeking out bud with his tongue and sucks on it. Then he pulls his fingers away, gets comfortable between your thighs and starts licking you in earnest, rubbing your clit with the flat of his wet hot tongue. You clutch his graying curls with your fingers and hold on to him, afraid to float away, because of the immense pleasure he’s giving you.

“Ahh, Joel— please— so good— oh my god,” a string of moans and pleas is leaving your mouth, but he slaps the side of your ass and growls into your throbbing cunt,

“Wanna come? Take it from me, babygirl, c’mon.” With that he opens his mouth with his tongue sticking out and starts moving your hips up and down, as your pussy is grinding against his strong muscle. Then his hands leave you and you whine.

“I said, use me. Use my mouth, babygirl,” Joel commands and, desperate for another release, you swiftly follow his order and begin moving your hips up and down, making your dripping cunt roll against his tongue, lips, mustache and scruffy chin, chasing your high, feverishly.

A content smile tugs at his slicked up lips when he sees you take control, using him for your pleasure, and he hums with satisfaction when soon you are wriggling on the bed, moaning loudly, as waves of euphoria ripple through your body. You almost sob from the intensity, not able to believe how hard you come with him, as if everything before was bleak and dull and now you finally see the colors around you.

“Joel,” you murmur, your voice is barely audible, and he climbs up your body before taking you in his big strong arms. He’s hot and big against you, all around you, and you nuzzle his hairy chest for a few seconds, catching your breath and resting.

He mumbles his praise against your temple, “my good girl—did so good—came so hard for me.”

You smile and weakly raise your face to his,

“Am I ready, Joel? I want—.”

“Yes, baby? What do you want?”

“You know.”

He pinches your chin between his fingers, keeping your eyes locked with his.

“Wanna hear you say it? Need you to say it.”

“I want you inside me?”

“Are you asking?” he breathes out a chuckle.

“No, Joel. I want you to fuck me.”

“Jesus, babygirl. Ok.”

His face gets serious and he moves to the top of the bed with you in his arms and leans against the headboard. You try to slide off him but he manhandles you to straddle his thighs.

“Jus’ sit in my lap like that,” he gruffs, pressing his chest to yours. You look down and see his cock, nesting between your bodies. The tip smears precum on your belly and you whine with desire.

“It’s so big, Joel. What if I can’t take it?”

“You can. I stretched your pussy good. And we’ll stop if it hurts, ‘k?”

You nod and lightly roll your hips against his hard cock and heavy balls under your entrance.

“Hngg, stop it, little minx. You’ll make me spill the goods too early.”

You give him a mischievous smile and then peck his lips to apologize for your naughtiness but he doesn’t let you pull away and holds you tight, his tongue breaching your lips and stealing your kiss with hunger and love. So much love that you drown in it, in the feeling of his body, his hot skin pressed to yours, his mighty manhood throbbing just for you.

Not breaking the kiss, Joel lifts your body up with his arm around your waist and his hand guides his fat cock to your entrance. Soon you feel his tip nudge your wet hole and he slowly lowers you, spreading your folds with his fat head.

“Hnggg,” Joel roars and his chest vibrates against your squished up breasts. You take a sharp breath as his tip is filling you. A thought flashes in your mind, “it’s not that bad, I can take him,” but he keeps going and soon you’re whining, as your walls spread, your pussy trying to adjust to his girth and you start panting against his lips.

“Joel, it hurts,” you mewl and he stops spearing you with his cock.

“Shhh… you’re doin’ so good, babygirl. Jus’ need to go a little deeper.”

He kisses your lips, you both breathing heavily, as you are trying to fight the dull pain, licking at your core, and Joel is gathering all his strength to keep himself from plunging his cock as deep as possible.

“Fuck, ya tight. Never felt anything like this sweet cunt, baby,” he groans through gritted teeth, “Shoulda done it earlier. Coulda been balls deep in you every day by now.”

“Oh, Joel,” you whimper at his filthy words but the fire burning your insides is slowly morphing into pleasure, as he begins fucking up into you, getting deeper inch by inch. Your nails dig into his biceps, the sensation so overwhelming you’re afraid you might faint. Joel’s lips brush your cheek as he mumbles through the panting,

“Can you— hnggg, sit on my cock, sweetie, don’t wanna hurt ya, c’mon,” he grunts as his hands roam your body, sliding to your ass as he spreads your cheeks and you feel the air cooling your soaked folds and holes.

“Yeah, ok, I’ll try.”

You’d do anything for him right now. In need of his support, you take his face between your sweaty palms and search for his hazy eyes. Your thumbs rub his scruffy cheeks as you’re getting lost in his dark lustful eyes and, knowing that your pussy is close to swallowing his cock fully, you take a final step. You lower your body, piercing your crying cunt with his manhood. His big balls twitch, flush with your ass, and you gasp at the fullness you’re experiencing. You both moan loudly before Joel’s mouth crushes against yours and he’s drinking your whimpers, returning them with his own grunts.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby, you’re perfect for my cock,” Joel is praising you but the adrenaline coursing in your veins pulls you down into the pits of euphoria and you barely hear him. Your gaze falls to the place where you two are joined, your folds spread widely around his glistening base, surrounded by dark wet hair, and the sight, the sensation make you bite your lower lip till you taste metal on your tongue. You flutter your eyes shut but Joel calls for you,

“Baby, come back to me.”

You look at his face twisted in pleasure as he grunts, “Gonna fuck you now, darlin’. Can’t wait anymore.”

You nod and his hands slither under your ass before he starts moving you up and down his cock, your tight cunt massaging it. His strong arms lift you so easily, his muscles bulging as you’re holding on to them.

Joel’s forehead is covered in sweat, some of his curls sticking to it, as he’s groaning and swearing, pushing his member into you again and again.

You softly mewl with every kisshis tip is giving to your cervix, and you revel in the pleasure when he reaches something hidden and ecstatic inside your core.

“Gonna come, Joel!” you almost cry out, as he is taking you higher.

“Not yet, babygirl. Want you to fuck yourself on my cock. Ride me.”

“How? I— I don’t know if I can,” you breathe out, your eyebrows pulled together, as your gaze darts between his eyes.

“Jus’ bounce on it, like that.” Joel grabs your hips with his bear hands and shows you how to do it, guiding you. You follow his movements and soon you’re lifting and lowering your hips, pussy sliding up and down his huge manhood, as Joel leans back on the headboard and watches you work his cock, his eyes hazy but fully focused on you.

To steady yourself you brace your hands on his broad chest and scratch his skin with your nails, when your pussy starts clamping around a man’s cock for the first time in your life. You sob through moans, as euphoria is shaking your body and Joel’s hands keep you from falling off him, when you’re trembling hard in his lap.

“Yes, yes—I’m here, baby—I gotch ya—ahhh, keep squeezing my cock— your little cunt is drooling all over me— shit, gonna come—“ he chokes on his words and you suddenly feel warmth spread inside your contracting pussy. It’s such a great sensation when he fills up your already full cunt and you don’t stop jumping on his cock, churning his warm load deep inside you, squelching sounds mixing with Joel’s grunts and your whimpers.

Your juices and his cum soon cover your folds and asscheeks and his thighs get cold and slippery, coated with your joined liquids. You feel filthy and it turns you on so much, that it makes your head spin.

“Joel, hold me, please,” you beg, lowering your torso on his heaving chest and he squirts the last ropes of his cum inside you, his big arms wrapped around your heated up body.

You both descend from your highs, holding each other close, his chest making your whole body rise and fall, his lips pressed to the top of your head.

You’re quiet, completely spent, your limbs tingling as you’re focused on the sensation of your body — a twitch of his cock still buried deep in your cunt, your pussy slightly sore clutching his softening manhood, his skin hot against yours, his warm hands gliding over your back.

“My good girl. So brave. Took me so well.”

You smile at his praise, sighing happily, trying to memorize this moment forever.

“How are you feelin’? You hurtin’?” Joel asks.

“No,” you softly reply, “a little sore but it’s ok.”

“Good. Good,” Joel coos, “Let’s clean you up.”

You nod and he carefully lifts you off his lap, as his cock slides out of your stretched hole, and a trickle of his creamy cum tickles your folds. He lays you down on the bed and gets up with a grunt to get you a wet towel.

When he’s back, you want to take it from him but he shakes his head and cleans you up himself, his movements slow and gentle. His hands wrapped in the soft fabric glide over your skin, attentive to how oversensitive you are.

You watch him take care of you, hearts in your eyes, and you almost physically sense love expand in your chest. Joel’s taking more and more space inside you with every moment your gaze is set on him, every second you breathe. A thought creeps up in your mind, “what if he leaves me? What if this magic that happened between us never repeats?” Tears well up in your eyes as fear grips your heart. But you blink them away hurriedly, scared to worry him. Today is perfect and you want it to stay this way.

You reach your arms to Joel and he joins you on the bed, embracing you in his strong arms. You raise your face to his and he kisses you, wiping away your fears with every caress of his lips.

“Thank you, babygirl. For giving yourself to me. My perfect girl,” he mumbles against your lips.

You hug him as tight as you can, and not believing how lucky you’re, you whisper, nuzzling his neck, “Thank you for making my first time perfect, Joel.”

Soon you fall asleep in his arms, wishing to be with him forever.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic! Your feedback motivates me so much!😘💕

Masterlist

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @fruityreads

If you'd like to be tagged in my future fics, let me know!💕

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #sweet cherry fic

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rhysazriel · 15 days

Text

Smoke & Light: Part 3 [Plug!Az]

SUMMARY: A run in with the cops is another reminder of the horrors Azriel faced through his childhood. Maybe one day he'll open up about it, but not today. Today, he's solely focussed on helping you out of a bad trip. (8.2k)

WARNINGS: swearing, reoccurring themes of use of recreational drugs (weed), greening out, teasing, flirting, kissing, dirty talk, use of toys hehe, slapping/spanking, spitting, dom!Az, mentions of Az's abusive childhood.

A/N: firstly, I want to massively apologise for not updating this in sooo long. Life has been busy and I've been reading so much lately that writing slipped my mind. To make up for it, there is some filthy smut in this chapter and I am hoping to be a bit more consistent with the next updates. Thank you for being so patient and I hope you enjoy!!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When Azriel was a young boy, he dreamt of becoming a guitarist. It didn’t matter to him then if he was famous or not. Just so long as he was good enough to be able to replicate famous rifts with his own spin, and create his own music, too.

For his fifth birthday, his mother bought him a children’s guitar, complete with the plastic pics and a leather strap with his initials etched into the fine fabric. He knew, even at that age, that the gift had cost his mother a small fortune. But she didn’t care how much it set her back. The look of pure shock and excitement on her boy's face was worth every single penny she spent.

He could still remember the untold amounts of sleep he would forfeit to learn a new chord or finally string more than three together at once. By seven years old, he could recreate the first half of Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd—albeit choppy and slightly out of time—and memorise the chords by heart.

His half-brothers had never liked that about Azriel. His talent and passion for music and the guitar. Even at the ages of five and four, they did not like Azriel. More often than not, they’d plant broken vases and stained cushions for their parents to find, and blame them on Azriel. They knew their father would take away his guitar for a few days to a week as punishment.

But even then, a week wasn’t long enough. Their hatred for Azriel stemmed long before his love for guitar had grown. From the moment his half-brothers learned how to talk, Az was on the daggered end of their spiteful tongue and manipulative masterminds. As young as he was, Azriel wasn’t blind to the cause of it. He wasn’t blind to his step-father’s hatred for him, that he then instilled in his own blood sons.

Being what they called a ‘blood traitor’ would always be their main justification for what they did. Azriel had never admitted to anyone the second reason his brothers set his hands alight. But the other thought behind it—the more vicious and calculated thought—was to burn not just his hands, but his dreams, too.

For months after the incident, Azriel’s hands remained bandaged. He could hardly use them for everyday tasks like dressing and washing and eating. And when they had finally healed enough for the bandages to be permanently removed, he couldn’t play his beloved guitar.

The strings were too harsh on his sensitive skin. It hurt so much just pressing down on the chords on the neck, let alone pinching the pic for longer than thirty seconds at a time. Azriel had to learn how to play all over again, covered in blisters and burnt flesh. And then his marred skin began to harden and callous and every strum was more painful than before.

He often wondered if this would still be his life path had the burning never happened. If he would have still met Rhys and Cass, if he would still be selling drugs. He knew he wouldn’t be this well-off financially, but at what cost? What did all of this money mean when it was just him? When he wouldn’t be able to fulfil his biggest dream in life?

He mostly thought about it all in times like this, when he was spontaneously pulled over by the cops for what they called a “random stop and search”, though they had never given a plausible cause for it. And today would be no different.

“You stalking me again, Reynolds?” Az asked in a rugged tone as he exhaled the smoke from his cigarette.

Officer Reynolds, one of the few officers that continuously pulled Az over and searched his vehicle, leaned against the open window with his arms crossed. His blue eyes gleamed with hope of catching something on him this time, though Az knew Reynolds would walk away with another few grey hairs to add to his collection.

Reynolds was a strange looking man. Not in his features, but in the glint of his eyes and the disturbing tug of his lips whenever he offered a grim smile. He radiated nothing but offsetting energy, one that stunk of noncy behaviour and less than ethical tendencies.

His iced eyes darted quickly across Azriel’s lap and the passenger's seat, coming up short and settling his gaze on the man again.

“Random stop and search, nothing personal.” He grinned that awful smile but Azriel paid no mind to it. “Step out of the car, licence and registration.” Azriel was already reaching into the glovebox for his paperwork before Reynolds could even speak.

He handed them over, opening the door as the officer stepped away, and stood with his hands on the hood of his Mustang. Azriel knew the drill. He’d been patted down and had his car searched more times than he could count in the past six months alone.

And each and every time, Reynolds always came up short.

“Got any weapons in the vehicle?”

Azriel rolled his eyes, looking over his shoulder as Reynolds began to pat down his stomach and thighs. “Do I look like the type that needs a weapon?”

A dry chuckle slipped from the officers lips as he patted harder down Azriel’s calves and ankles before turning to his full—albeit short—height. “What about narcotics? Any drugs that I should be aware of?”

Az grunted with another roll of his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Officer Reynolds didn’t offer a response. Instead, he bent his body into the driver's side of the Mustang and began stifling through every nook and cranny that his swollen hands could reach.

Azriel’s foot tapped impatiently as he waited and waited for the search to end. They wouldn’t find a damn thing, especially because of the new addition Azriel had recently added to his modded car.

But that knowledge of the secret compartment didn’t stop his muscles from tensing just slightly when Reynolds wrapped his puffed fingers around the foot mat and peeled it up.

Azriel’s stash was well hidden; wrapped and locked in an extended box beneath his footwell that managed to also keep the scent out. He knew it was a matter of time before they started bringing a K9 with them on their searches, so Azriel had to be prepared for that well in advance.

Especially with how strong the new strain smelt.

With a huff, Reynolds haphazardly threw the foot mat back down and struggled to clamber out of the car. And just like Azriel suspected, he came up short.

Reynolds handed him back his paperwork and rested his hands back on his belt, fingers itching for his baton to give Az a taste of the frustration he caused him. Azriel didn’t so much as bat an eye at it. He knew Reynolds wouldn’t touch him. Not if he wanted to keep both his stumpy legs in use.

“You know, this is getting pretty old. How do I go about filing a harassment charge?”

Reynolds scoffed. “Good luck with that.”

If there was one thing Az liked about having his brothers home, it was the lack of talking his mind did. There was no silence for his brain and thoughts to gang up on him, to have him question every thought and decision he’d ever made.

Music and guitar usually helped to quiet those demons—the shadows that he had no control over—but the frustration from his earlier encounter with Reynolds had the desire for playing at the bottom of his list.

Instead, he settled for Nesta’s demand to braid her hair. She knew him better than she let the others know. Since they first met years ago, he became the brother she never had, that she never knew she needed. She was quick to learn his quirks and mannerisms; what they meant and how he felt.

And he learnt the same for her.

“You’re doing it too loose,” Nesta huffed, picking at her nails from her seat on the carpet between Azriel’s parted thighs. He huffed, flexing his fingers and undoing the braid.

“Last time you told me it was too tight and it gave you a migraine,” he retorted back with an exasperated huff.

They argued like real siblings, too.

“Just do it a little looser than last time.”

Azriel split her hair into three sections once more and slowly started to braid, overlapping the sections and tugging a bit tighter than his previous attempt. Nesta hummed in approval.

They didn’t pay much mind to the others. Rhys and Feyre were cuddled on the loveseat opposite them, Cassian on their left with a bulky pair of headphones on his head as he smashed the buttons of the gaming remote beneath his fingers.

He was growing frustrated that he was losing, but it didn’t help that his hands were so massive that the pad of his thumb was big enough to press all the buttons at once.

“Hey, Az… there’s this girl I know…” Azriel’s grunt cut Feyre off before she could say anything else. He tied Nesta’s braid and tapped her shoulders, signally he was done.

“Not this again, Fey,” he groaned.

A sheepish smile sat on her full lips, a gentle tint of pink blushing the apples of her cheeks. “I really think you guys would get along, though. She’s super laid back and so gorgeous.”

Nesta moved from between Az’s thighs on the ground and clambered back onto the sofa, reaching for her tumbler of gin and tonic. Azriel was used to this, to Feyre trying to set him up. Each time, he’d always shut her advances down, but that never stopped her.

Feyre considered it a challenge, and she wouldn’t stop until Azriel agreed to go on a date. Just once, and she’d back off. She was fairly confident that one date would be all it would take for Azriel to fall for her mysterious friend.

“I don’t need to be set up,” he spoke, finality in his tone.

Rhys cocked a brow at how quickly Az dismissed his girlfriend but said nothing. He knew Feyre could get a bit too much with it sometimes, but Rhys himself still had hopes that maybe one day, Az would bite the bullet and just agree.

But Azriel had no plans to do that. He didn't want to be set up on a blind date, and he most certainly did not need nor want his friends involving themselves in his love life—or lack thereof. It wasn’t that he struggled with girls, Mother, no. Not once in his life did Azriel ever have a shortage of pussy.

If he wanted it, he would get it. On his own. Without his brother's girlfriend’s self-involvement.

His phone chimed from his back pocket, and not bothering another glance at Feyre, Azriel retrieved it to read over the message.

You: you weren’t kidding. This shit is strongggg x

His heart rate quickened as he read the text again and again. Azriel hadn’t heard from for three days—since that kiss—and now he was reminiscing on the taste of your mouth on his.

Azriel: I did warn you

You: maybe next time you could write a reminder on my baggie?

A grin stretched across the expanse of his lips, eyes glittering at how quickly you responded. The act didn’t go unmissed by Nesta, who grinned against her staw and wiggled her toes against the side of Azriel’s thigh. She knew that face—that look.

“Azzy doesn’t want to get set up because he already has a crush on someone.”

All eyes snapped to Azriel and Nesta at her words, eyes so wide they almost bulged from their heads. They all knew Az was a ladies man, that although he kept his sex life private, he was well endowed in that aspect. But what they had never really seen was Azriel with a crush.

With someone who was more than a booty call or a fling.

Az narrowed his eyes at Nesta, a hard expression removing his previous smile. The phone in his hand began to vibrate and a quick glance at it had your number filling the screen through an incoming call.

His heart stammered.

“I don’t have a crush. It’s just a client.” He stood from the couch, his scarred thumb hovering over the answer button.

Nesta grinned maniacally, taking another sip of her gin. “A lady client?” Azriel’s response was a pillow launched at Nesta’s face before leaving his family and shutting himself away in his bedroom.

Az took a deep breath then swiped his screen to accept the call. “Hey,” he greeted, bringing the phone to his ear. “You doing okay?”

There was a pregnant pause for a moment before your airy laugh breathed down the line and Azriel’s throat began to close up at the sound. “I think I’ve greened out a little,” you giggled, almost painfully. “Everything is spinning and heavy and when I close my eyes, I get seasick… is that normal?”

Az pursed his lips, biting back his own smile. The fact that you’d managed to text full sentences and then call him suggested you hadn’t greened out too badly. And by the light self-deprecating laugh at your own situation, he knew you weren’t falling in too deep of a hole.

“It should pass soon, it shouldn't get worse than how you feel now. Where are you?”

“I’m at home so I’m okay. I just didn’t know what was the best thing to help.”

Azriel shouldn’t have let your words affect him the way they did. They shouldn’t have warmed his heart and sent it soaring in his chest. But in your slightly vulnerable predicament, out of everyone that smoked in your life and would understand, it was him that you called for advice.

Not your friends, not your ex. Him.

“Honestly? Food and water.”

Another pause of silence had Azriel thinking a bit too much again. If you were calling him for advice, this was likely your first time greening out, and he wondered if you’d even be able to handle making yourself food alone.

After a moment of consideration, he spoke again. “Want me to stop by?”

Azriel could hear your soft breath through the call. “Isn’t that crossing a line?” you asked in a gentle voice.

He frowned, brows pinched. “What line?”

“I’m your client, you’re my plug,” you reminded him, and something about it sent a sour taste to the back of his throat.

“You’re my friend,” he offered.

He wondered if you considered that or not, and by the pause of silence once more, he got his answer.

“I am?” The soft tone of your question hurt him more than it should’ve. It shouldn’t have hurt him at all.

“Am I not yours?”

You were considering it, though. In your book, he was definitely your friend. He’d comforted you just a few nights ago after the fiasco with your sister's secret wedding, had bought you food and then… He’d kissed you. Or had you kissed him?

You supposed he was your friend, but you didn’t think you meant anything more to him than being just another client. Clearly, you were wrong.

“Yeah… I guess you are.”

The corners of Azriel's lips tugged upward slightly. “Great, so send me your address and I’ll stop by with some food.”

Perhaps you should’ve told him no, that it truly wasn’t necessary and you could just pick at a couple of leftover cookies you’d baked yesterday. But you didn’t. You wanted to see him again, wondered so desperately if that kiss had meant anything at all… if it would happen again.

“I have a spare set of keys in a security lock outside. The code is 4369, let yourself in.”

You didn’t know how much time you had to try and sort yourself out before Azriel would arrive. But as hard as you tried, every time you raised your head you were met with an onslaught of nausea and dizziness.

You spent around five minutes attempting to regulate your breathing to rid those feelings, but your body remained stomach down on the couch with your face squished against a pillow.

If you could stomach the feeling of your eyes being closed for longer than five seconds at a time, you probably could’ve fallen asleep. But alas, the sound of a key entering the lock of your front door had your eyes widening a little further and heart stammering against your ribs.

“Knock, knock.” Azriel’s voice dripped with honey as he spoke into the expanse of your open plan living-kitchen area.

Though you couldn’t see him from your position, you could hear the faint rusting of a takeout bag in his hand as he closed the door quietly and kicked off his shoes at the door.

You didn’t need to call out to him for Az to see you. Sprawled on the sofa, just off to his left, he grinned comically, ignoring the unfamiliar swell in his chest. His feet padded closer to the couch, settling the food on the coffee table and the smell of hot, fried chicken wafted through your senses.

Azriel helping you sit up and handing you the same meal you ordered the last time you saw one another was a bit of a blur. But the second the food hit your tongue and your tastebuds exploded in delight, the nausea slowly dwindled from your senses.

“You are my saviour,” you moaned around the food, eyes fluttering closed and none the wiser to Azriel’s growing blush.

Sat in comfortable silence, Azriel didn’t want you to focus on anything other than feeling yourself again. Within a few minutes, you’d both finished your food and your face didn’t seem so sunken and pasty.

Now, you looked wonderfully blitzed, skin a little brighter than before and a sparkling sheen to your bloodshot eyes. Yeah, you were out of the woods, your body warm and relaxed.

“You feeling okay?” he finally managed to ask, shoving the last fry between his lips as you nodded at his question.

“I feel perfectly baked now.”

A laugh spluttered from his lips at your words as he wiped his scarred hands clean on a paper napkin. For the first time in the past twenty minutes, Az allowed his eyes to gaze across the expanse of your rather cosy living room.

Soft, golden lighting that warmed the room, plants of varying shapes and colours tucked into every corner and crevice available. Mismatched furniture and draping vines.

It was cute, all of it. Very you. The wall facing the couch was hidden beneath tall bookcases that were filled to the brim with every type of book he could imagine. Even with squinted eyes, he could make out a few familiar authors amongst your shelves.

“Have you read all of those?” He threw his gaze to you, wonder and slight adoration in his eyes, though you were sure you imagined the latter.

“Mhm,” you hummed around your drink. “Some more times than I can remember.”

You watched him stand from the couch, his tall frame approaching your collection. He was dressed in black again – his simple jeans and sweater combo – and his hair was perfectly tousled and swept down his forehead.

Eyes on him, his finger traced the spines of your beloved possessions, settling on one in particular that made your breath still in your chest. Azriel gently pulled it off the shelf, hazel eyes examining the near-pristine cover.

“Careful,” your soft voice warned him. “It’s worth three grand.”

Azriel’s eyes almost bulged from his head as he turned to you with the most bewildered expression you’d ever seen. It took every ounce of control not to burst into laughter.

“What?”

“It’s 134 years old. I restored it the best I could. You should’ve seen it when I found it.”

Azriel’s brows pulled into a confused frown. “Restored it?”

“Yeah, that’s what I do for work.”

When his frown didn’t ease, you cleared your throat to continue. “I work between an auction and a museum in the city. I find the old books and restore them, then sell them through the auction, or they go to the museum.”

His once furrowed brows raised, his eyes darting back to the book in his hand as if he was inspecting the eighth wonder of the world. Azriel finally turned back to you with a smile that borderlined a smirk.

“That’s actually pretty cool.”

A satisfied yet sheepish smile found its way to your lips, cheeks warming under the intensity of his gaze. Azriel slid the book back onto the shelf and continued his observations.

If you were being honest, it was a little too intimate for your liking. No one in your life had ever taken such interest in your books, not your friends or past lovers. It wasn’t like your love for books was much of a secret, but no one had taken the time to get to know them.

To know your books was to know you.

You shouldn’t have been surprised that Azriel was the person to do so. In the short time you’d known him, you realised he was full of surprises.

“What about you?” Your voice greeted his ears softly as you cleaned up the trash from your food. Azriel casted barely a look over his shoulder, eyes caught on your limited edition fantasy book set. A part of you begged to take Azriel’s attention off them. “What do you do for work?”

That seemed to earn his full attention, causing him to turn to face you fully. With an amused smirk, he followed you a few feet into the open kitchen. “You know what I do for work.”

Ah.

“You don’t have anything…legal…to keep on the books?”

He tried to hide his amusement at your words, but to no avail. Azriel’s smirk only grew and he found himself wondering if his answer might make you think differently of him.

“If you wanna talk…legalities…then I’m an investor in the stock market.”

It was your turn to hold the raised eyebrows – a look that Azriel was quick to mirror. “What?” He asked. “You don’t think I could work in stocks?”

“Do you?” You pressed.

Azriel’s grin widened slightly. “I do. And I’ll have you know that I’m very good at it.”

You didn’t want nor need to know any more. You weren’t about to outright ask how much money he had, and if he told you out of his own desire, you were certain it would only make you feel like pure shit.

Your apartment and belongings weren’t much but they were yours. Everything you had, you worked for. You could do without knowing how many thousands he had sitting pretty in his bank.

Azriel noticed that distant look in your eyes and took a seat at your island. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable. And if he was being perfectly honest, it was appallingly refreshing to speak with a woman about his side-hustle without them swooning or prying for more details.

And it appeared that it was only now that either of you were realising how different things were the last time you saw one another. When your lips pressed against his and he kissed you back with just as much want and vigour.

As if remembering that searing moment, your face and chest began to warm. You were quick to turn away from him, needing a moment to compose yourself and the tight feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You tried desperately to ignore the ache between your thighs at the memory, instead opting to focus your attention on the half empty box of cookies on the counter. Flipping the lid, you offered one to Azriel who took it without much prompting.

“Tell me if I’m crossing a line, but if you make enough money investing in stocks, why do you still deal?”

Azriel’s eyes fluttered closed as he took a bite out of the chocolate chip cookie, and you found your eyes zeroed in on the way his plump lips moved and his broad shoulders slacked slightly.

His eyes opened to focus on yours. “These are incredible.” You offered a smile, waiting. “Dealing is what got me the money to be able to invest. Don’t get me wrong, I’m good at it, but I lost a lot to get where I am. Dealing is steady income for now. It’s not something I plan to do forever.”

You didn’t probe any further, satisfied with the answer he provided and not wanting to push your luck. Your eyes were drawn to his mouth again, flashes of memories littering your mind as your body warmed once more.

Clearing your throat, you desperately tried to blink away the haziness he seemed to make you feel.

“You can smoke out on the balcony, if you want.”

Azriel finished the last of his cookie and leaned forward on the counter. “I didn’t bring anything.”

Your head tilted slightly to the half-smoked joint on your counter, stubbed out and back in your open tin. “Smoke the rest of that. It’s too strong for me and I know your tolerance is higher than mine.”

Azriel laughed; hearty and rich and deep. It tickled up your spine and reached around your neck and jaw to tug the corners of your lips into a smile. The effect he had on you was growing to be a slight problem.

“You wanna come? Fresh air will help.”

He watched you pinch the joint and lighter from your tin and lead him through to your bedroom. It was decorated similarly to the rest of your apartment–twinkling fairy lights and books and plants–and out on the small balcony, you’d managed to cram a rattan loveseat and table with vines wrapped around the short iron guard rail.

“Here.” You handed him the joint and lighter. “I’ll be back out, I’m just going to change.”

Azriel sparked up the joint between his lips, taking a long drag as you returned to your room. The smoke hit the back of his throat sharply, almost knocking him sideways. Even he hadn’t smoked a joint this packed and strong in a while. It was no wonder you’d had a wobble with it.

He took a seat on the rattan furniture, admiring the little view your balcony offered. The summer air kissed his skin, even as late as the evening was. The warmth of it had him shrugging off his sweater and throwing it over the table, taking another deep pull.

If Azriel was honest, he was quite thankful for the moments reprieve from your presence. He needed to take a second to calm himself down. Az couldn’t remember the last time he partook in something like this with someone who wasn’t his brothers or their girls.

This was more of a common thing with Nesta, smoking and eating together. Never Feyre, she always preferred a glass of wine, and occasionally Mor would smoke with him when she was passing through town. Never a random girl, never a new friend.

But that moment's reprieve was ripped away far too quickly, because you were sauntering back onto the balcony and stealing the breath right from Azriel’s smoked lungs.

He was fucked. Comepletly and utterly fucked. He’d never seen you look so relaxed, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of mismatched socks. Your hair was thrown up lazily and stray pieces fell out to frame your face.

Your legs, however, he couldn’t stop gawking. Soft skin and a whole lot of thigh. Azriel forced his gaze to your face again as you took a seat beside him on the loveseat, leaning your back on the armrest and bringing your knees up to your chest.

Mother above, he could feel his cock begin to strain in his pants, his eyes begging to sweep your body once more to see what lay between your slightly parted legs. From his peripheral vision, he could see you cross your ankles, effectively shielding yourself.

But Azriel was good at reading people, and by the slight flush of your cheeks and the way your eyes grew more hooded by the second, he was more than certain you knew what you were doing and the affects your actions had on him.

He took another pull of the joint. “You weren’t kidding,” he mumbled, “this shit is strong.” A bubbly laugh fell from your lips at the way his eyes squinted when the drug settled into his lungs.

“I did warn you.”

Azriel offered it to you, watching your inner turmoil as you weighed out your options until pinching it from his fingers. “One pull will be enough to keep me buzzed for the night.”

He watched your lips thin as they clamped down on the roach. He watched your chest rise as your lungs filled with the thick tar until you pulled the joint from your lips and exhaled slowly. You handed it back to him, cutting yourself off completely for the night.

Azriel took it between two pinched fingers, keeping his eyes on your slightly flushed face as he took another few drags before stuffing the cherry out in the ashtray. His gaze found purchase on your lips again as he mirrored your position on the loveseat, though Az didn’t tuck his knees to his chest.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” He asked.

You blinked at him, head tilted slightly to the left. “Talk about what?”

The way his taunting smirk grew made you shift uncomfortably. You had an inkling as to what he meant, but you hoped if you played dumb, he would drop it. Clearly not.

“About the last time we saw each other.”

Yup. There it is.

That familiar warmth spread across your face and chest again in waves of anxiety and embarrassment. You couldn’t handle this type of conversation right now. You were mortified enough as it was, you didn’t need to reminisce about your stupid mistake, nor the way he kissed you back as though his life depended on it.

You let out a long sigh. “I was kind of hoping you’d forgotten about it.”

Azriel quirked a brow. “Forget about it?” he asked. “You expected me to forget a kiss like that?”

It felt like all the air had been completely sucked from your lungs. You could hardly breathe, struggling to string a coherent reply together. Azriel continued to smirk at you, bathing in the way he clearly made you feel. Like he was getting off on your flustered state.

The state he put you in.

“It’s been replaying in my head for days.” Azriel’s admission sent your mind into a frenzy. You had no idea what to do with that information or how it was supposed to make you feel.

What you did know, was that familiar burning in the pit of your stomach, that daunting ache between your clenched thighs. And the way Azriel's eyes darkened and slowly traced the silhouette of your figure, you got the hint he felt the same way, too.

“Yeah?” Your words came out as barely a whisper, lashes fluttering as the weed you’d just smoked began to settle into your bloodstream.

Azriel inched a hand tentatively toward your ankle, the tips of his scarred fingers brushing against your cotton socks. The touch had your body keening for more, your legs twitching as he slowly wrapped a large hand around your lower leg.

“Yeah,” he replied, almost breathless.

He was testing the waters, desperate to get a feeler as to what you wanted from this interaction. Azriel watched you closely, cataloguing every response your body gave his touch. How goosebumps broke across the silky skin of your legs, how your cheeks flushed slightly and lashes fluttered at him.

“Is that all you’ve been thinking about?” Your husky voice finally broke through the silence. Az raised a brow at your boldness. “Or do you let your mind wander to what else could’ve happened?”

If it weren’t for the stifling warmth in the air, Azriel was sure he would’ve come in his pants from your words alone. Because he knew that meant you’d been letting your mind wander to something more.

You allowed him to gently tug your leg down, resting the back of your calf across his thigh. Your covered cunt was surely exposed, but Az didn’t look. Not yet. A sneaky peek wouldn’t be enough to satiate the appetite he had grown for you.

He needed to bathe and bask and bury himself in your scent. Mould his body to body, meld his soul to your soul. Even then, he would never be able to feel you as closely as he craved.

“You want me to tell you what places my mind has wandered to?” His eyes were glued to your mouth, watching as your tongue slid out to wet your lips before tugging the bottom one between your teeth.

It was with a surge of complete arousal and haziness that had you uttering, “I want you to show me.”

Azriel’s lips were on yours not a moment later when he surged forward to trap your small frame beneath his large one on the loveseat. You could barely make sense of where you ended and Azriel began.

His scarred hands cupped your face, his tongue massaging hotly against your own. Your legs had wrapped around his waist, ankles locked across his back to keep him close to you.

It was unlike any kiss you’d experienced before. Passion and need and desire. Pure want and carnage. Like nothing could ever stop him from tasting you again. Like he was savouring every single piece of you.

“If you want me to show you…” he muttered against your lips, “I suggest you let me take you inside.”

You pulled away just enough for your noses to bump and make out a blurry picture of him before you. Swollen lips, mussed up hair that you hadn’t realised you’d been running your fingers through.

“Worried someone might see?” You panted in a teasing tone.

His eyes shadowed impossibly darker. “I don’t like to share.”

Squirming beneath his thick body, your fingernails scraped across his broad shoulders, scratching at the cotton of his t-shirt. “It’s not sharing if they’re just watching.”

Azriel nipped your bottom lip. “Well, I’m a greedy man, and I don’t want anyone else watching you come on my cock but me.”

A breathless moan tumbled off your tongue like hot honey, your eyes fluttering closed at the words he spoke. You hoped this was just the tip of the iceberg with him. Prayed that he was as filthy as he was gorgeous.

Without another second to get lost in your thoughts, Azriel was gripping your hips, lifting you as he stood. Your legs around his waist tightened as your arms snaked to circle his neck.

Even in the dark, he moved swiftly, settling your body onto your mattress without missing a beat. He crawled back between your thighs, the moonlight kissing his tanned skin through the cracks of your window.

His lips were on yours again, searing and eager. Azriel poured every ounce of need and desire into it, massaging your tongue and licking against the roof of your mouth. He tasted like the cookies you’d baked, a hint of smoke and a tang of bud.

It was intoxicating. He was intoxicating.

Your fingers tugged at the curled tendrils on the nape of his neck, ushering him impossibly closer. His body flattened atop yours, the grooves of his abs pressing deliciously against your stomach and chest.

Gods, he was solid. Built like a fucking Greek God and your fingers itched to trace the delicate intricacies of his golden skin.

“Azriel,” you panted against his lips. “If you don’t touch me right now I’m going to burst into flames.”

A dry chuckle left his throat as he dragged his mouth across your jaw and down to your neck; kissing and licking and sucking. He nipped at a sensitive spot, begrudgingly tugging himself off your frame.

Sitting on his knees between your open thighs, he was a fucking sight. His chest heaved as he took a breath, his eyes dark and hair an unruly mess. Excitement was getting the better of you. So much so that when his scarred fingers looped in the neck of his shirt and tugged it up, you all but foamed at the fucking mouth.

An unexplainable sound squeaked from the back of your throat. He was fucking beautiful. His skin was flawless, abdomen toned with divots of muscle, and dark ink of swirls that adored his chest.

You could physically feel your arousal seep from your cunt, could feel your clit throb in desperate need for him. You could hardly breathe, your lungs almost crushed by his sheer beauty.

You could stare at him forever.

“Are you going to be good for me?” His rugged voice broke you from your trance. You blinked at him. Once, twice.

Gone was the flirtatious Azriel who once made you blush from teasing. Gone was the light warmth in his smile and cheeky glimmer in his eyes.

The Azriel before you was cold now. Calculated. He oozed power and dominance and your pussy clenched in anticipation of the pleasure he might inflict on you.

The Azriel before you held all the control. And you’d gladly surrender whatever you had left to offer.

“Yes,” you whimpered in response.

He didn’t reply. Not with words. Azriel’s large palms flattened on your inner thighs as he pried your legs further apart. The calluses of his marred fingers scratched at your silky skin as they inched closer and closer to your core.

His fingertips grazed at the soaked fabric of your panties. “Look at you, pretty girl.”

Your lashes fluttered closed, lips parted open, head rolled back. Gods, you wanted his voice on a loop in your brain for the rest of eternity. If he was going to continue talking, you wouldn’t last long.

“Look at your dripping little cunt.”

You couldn’t hold in the whimper, nor the way you clenched on nothing—so desperate to be filled by him.

“I’m going to take my time with you.” You knew it wasn’t a threat, but Christ did it sound like one. You were far too pent up to be touched in any way that wasn’t with a cock buried deep inside you.

Foreplay could come next time, you’d let him spend hours devouring you if that was what he truly wanted. Not now, not when you were borderline going to sob.

“Fuck me, Az.”

He stilled, eyes on you as his hands halted on your inner thighs. “Please,” you whimpered, “I need you to fuck me. You can do what you want to me next time.”

Azriel cocked a brow, the familiar hint of him returning to his face for a brief moment. “You promise?”

Neither of you allowed yourselves longer than a few brief moments to bask in the vow of a next time. Not when he ghosted his fingers across your cunt and you nodded your head quickly, desperately.

“There’s condoms in the drawer.” Your words came out a breathless pant as Azriel’s toned body leaned over yours. He rifled through your nightstand, blindly reaching for a foil packet when his fingers grazed against something else. Something silicone.

His eyes found yours in the night, a mischievous glint that darkened his honeyed hazel iris’. Your lips parted. “What?”

From your angle, you couldn’t see what he held in his hands. Not until Azriel leaned back on his knees between your parted thighs, and the moonlight bounced off the hot pink toy in his palm.

Oh, fuck.

Without breaking your gaze, Az gently stroked the tip of the six inch object against your panty-covered cunt. You were soaking through the fabric, your thighs trembling on either side of his legs.

There was no way this was happening. No way he was going to–

“I think I wanna fuck you with this instead.”

You couldn’t argue with him, couldn’t even muster a single word to leave your lips. No one had used a sex toy on you before, much less a fucking dildo. And yet here Azriel was, eager to please you in the dirtiest ways possible. Even if it denied him his own pleasure.

“Az—“

He held his free hand in the air.

“Let’s call it a compromise.” His tone suggested there was no room for argument. You clamped your lips shut and continued to take deep, ragged breaths through your nose.

“If you’re a good girl with this toy, I’ll reward you with my cock later.”

Later. As in, he wasn’t planning on making you come just once…

You nodded once more, vigorously.

If it was down to Azriel he would’ve tied you up and taken his time with you anyway. He would’ve told you not to be a spoiled brat and to take whatever he gave you like a good girl.

But he couldn’t do that, not yet.

He couldn’t deprive you of the one thing you desperately wanted. But he could take away the thing to cause the most pleasure. Replace his cock with a toy. Watch you come all over it. And then ruin you until you creamed all over him and sobbed from overstimulating.

Azriel’s cock leapt in the tight confinements of his pants. He was desperate to free himself, touch himself. Have you touch him. He’d imagined the feeling of your lips around his dick for days, let his mind wander to what you’d look like on your knees for him.

He needed to be patient, he’d be able to stuff your throat full soon enough. He was sure of it. Then he’d let you sit on his tongue and suffocate him until you were both seeing stars.

“Please, baby.”

Your pleading voice broke him from his trance and Azriel wrapped two fingers around your panties and pulled them to the side, baring yourself to him.

And what a sight you were.

Swollen and soaked. Your pussy glistened under the moonlight, your hips rolling lazily as if trying to chase the touches he wouldn’t grant you. Az wanted nothing more than to bury his face in your warmth and stay there all fucking night.

But he didn’t touch you, at least not with his own body and skin. Azriel motioned the toy to your heat, teasingly sliding through your slick folds to collect your arousal. You jolted at the sensation, shuddering beneath his touch.

Azriel leaned over your body, one arm supporting his weight beside your head, the other coaxing the toy through your head, nudging the head against your pulsing clit.

“You’re gonna keep your eyes on me, and you’re gonna imagine it’s my cock fucking your tight little pussy.” Your chest arched into his, nipples pearled beneath the thin fabric of your t-shirt.

“Do you understand?” There he was again, that dominant and overpowering Azriel you saw just moments ago.

You nodded, lips blubbering slightly. “Yes.”

He cooed you softly, his head dipping down enough to brush his nose against yours. Azriel lined the dildo to your entrance, teasing your hole deliciously before gently pushing through your tightness.

Your lips parted, brows knit as your body grew taut. His honey gaze dripped into yours, melding you to him as Azriel rolled his hips to mirror what he would do if he was the one fucking you.

“Such a good girl, taking that cock.”

Your eyes fluttered closed at his praise, head rolling back into the pillow until his weight shifted above you and a briefly sharp sting met the side of your cheek. Your eyes flew open again, wide and confused.

Azriel looked down at you, his hand now gripping either side of your cheeks, his gaze much darker than before.

“I told you to keep your pretty eyes on me.” And then he sheathed the toy deep in your cunt.

A shriek of pleasure tore through your throat, hands reaching for the warm skin of Azriel’s shoulders. Your nails dragged across the muscles that rippled beneath your touch, scratching at the surface with a cry.

“Fuck!”

Azriel began with slow thrusts, allowing you a few brief moments to accumulate to the intrusion. Not much time, but enough. Because after the fourth thrust, he picked up the pace.

The noises were obscene, your high pitched cries and moans and the squelching of the toy that fucked your sopping cunt.

Everything was too intense to comprehend. The fullness you felt, the lack of control you possessed. And the way his eyes bore into yours, as though he was claiming your soul to melt with his own. He was hauntingly beautiful, even in his dark demeanour.

In your hazy state, it looked like even the shadows curled around his figure. As though he was their master, too.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby,” he praised. “Taking that cock like a good little girl.”

His voice dripped with sex and arousal, and when he shifted his hips once more, you could feel the thick and solid bulge of his length in his trousers. You wanted nothing more than to feel it, taste it.

You clamped tightly around the toy, dragging scratches and marks down Azriel’s golden skin. “Please let me come.” You had never begged to come before, had never even asked. But you felt no shame in pleading to the God above you for your release.

You’d give him anything he wanted.

Azriel’s own breath grew shaky, unready. “Open your mouth,” he commanded. You listened and complied immediately, eager to please him.

He leaned closer, pinching your face harder before spitting into your mouth, onto your awaiting tongue. Then he was kissing you, biting you, claiming you.

Your entire body felt like it burst into flames, hot fire licking at you from the inside out. You couldn’t breathe. Your entire being completely locked and consumed as you came around the toy with a frantic sob of his name.

Azriel couldn’t cope, couldn’t handle the sound of his name on your lips as you came around something that wasn’t him. Every ounce of self control was crumbling down at the sight of you—of your eyes still fixed on his, your jaw slack and your supple body arching to meet his.

He’d never seen anything so fucking sinful yet heavenly at the same time. Never felt so connected to someone without even touching them. He couldn’t take it, needed to touch you, feel you, taste you.

Az pulled the toy from your pussy, dragging it up between your bodies as you desperately attempted to catch your breath. He held it to your mouth, and without command, your tongue swirled around the length of it, tasting your own release with your eyes still boring into his soul.

And now he had an even more vivid image of what you’d look like sucking his cock.

Before Azriel could get a taste for himself, that cursed blaring of his phone broke through the heaving silence. He didn’t hear it at first, not until it stole your attention from him.

“You’re phone,” you muttered breathlessly, barely coherent.

Azriel dropped the toy to the side of the bed, his hands gentle on your body and face now. “Ignore it,” he breathed softly.

His lips met yours in a taunting kiss, one so stark opposite to the way he’d treated you just moments ago. The versatility of this man was going to give you whiplash.

But the phone blared again. And again. And suddenly, neither of you could ignore it anymore. His forehead rested against yours, a frustrated sigh tumbling off his lips.

“You should go.”

He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to.

“You don’t wanna come with me? Do some drop-offs?” He was tempting you, desperately wanting to spend more time in your presence, especially if it potentially ended like this again.

You hummed, considering it. But your body was spent and the idea of being in his car and not being able to have your hands all over him at any moment you pleased sounded like torture.

“Next time?” You posed it as a question, though the hope in Azriel’s eyes proved that he was more than happy to not only fuck you again, but to spend time with you, too.

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

He nosed at your cheek, planting a teasing open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, nosing back up to your ear. “You look fucking breathtaking when you come.”

Your eyes fluttered closed when he pulled away, your thighs trembling as he knelt and then clambered off your bed. Azriel watched your spent body for a moment, the way your thighs rubbed together as you squirmed, no doubt still horny.

It pained him to leave you like that, wanting more. But if he didn’t leave now, he likely never would. And that wasn’t something he could afford to do right now.

So without another word, he bent down to press a kiss to your mouth, and then he left—still high on both the drugs and you.

Thank you for reading and I apologise again for such a massively long wait for this chapter!!

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monamipencil · 3 months

Text

— part-time lovers (not really) | j.ww

genre; nsfw, slight angst, fluff, 90s! au, mdni <3 | tw; unprotected sex, blow job, vouyerism, public sex, cunnilingus, almost cuck! mingyu | w.c; 1.5k+ | a/n; if i had a penny for every time i wrote about sex in a convenience store, i would have two. which is not a lot but it is weird that it happened twice. not proof-read

saying that you felt like a slut would be an understatement.

who are you kidding? you are a slut. that's why you let wonwoo have his way with you, every single time.

every time he walks in through the goddamn store that you work in with his headphones on, the black leather jacket and a complementary pair of t-shirt and jeans.

you bite your lip in an attempt to contain the noises that threatened to spill out. and even with that, the sound of skins slapping and the wet squelch of your cunt gives it away. your nails dig into the counter as he holds up his relentless pace. the tip of his cock bruises your insides and the slapping of his balls on your clit feels way too good.

“so fucking wet.” he pronounces each word along with a snap of hips. his nails dig into your skin, leaving moon-shaped marks. the thought of someone walking in on you both makes you wetter. the arousal between your legs grows and you keep your eyes trained on the glass windows.

he pulls out, flipping you over. the cold air of the convenience store hits your sopping cunt, sending shivers through your spine. “eyes on me.” his fingers caress your bare thighs and you sit up to catch his lips in a kiss.

you both moan at the contact, and you card your fingers through his soft, curly locks. his tongue brushes your lips and you give in, easily. your pussy tingles as his tongue prods into every corner of your mouth. you relish the feeling of warm tongue gliding against yours. his cock brushes against your inner thigh and the cold surface of the counter brings you back to reality.

you're fucking wonwoo on the counter of the gas station you work in. just like every other friday night for the past 4 months. and anyone could walk in right now to him splitting you open on his cock. his lips part with yours and he leans back, admiring your figure for a bit.

his calloused fingers toy with your clit, and goosebumps rise on your skin like a conditioned response to his touch. your hips buck up, “wonwoo! please!”

“wanna eat you out so bad,” he kneels, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs. you watch in anticipation as he draws closer towards your core. your breath shudders when his hot breath fans your cunt, and he looks up at you through his lashes.

lust swirls in his iris and the black eyeshadow accentuates his eyes. he lays his tongue flat on your heat, still maintaining eye-contact. throwing your head, you moan carelessly. fuck it. who cares about this minimum wage job, anyway?

he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it and flicking his tongue. you find yourself, unable to look away from his gaze. wait, can he even see you? your eyes wander to the stray glass near the cash register. he pinches your inner thigh, and your eyes snap back to his. a scowl sits on his lips, glossy and shimmering from your arousal.

“you're too distracted, tonight.”

you sigh, unable to meet his eyes. how do you say it? that you like the guy who visits you every friday and gets his dick wet? that you like him? saying it would lead to either him ghosting you or your feelings being brushed off. ouch.

and if he wanted you, wanted an actual relationship with you, he should've taken you on a date, right? or asked anything about you? nothing. it's radio silence from him in terms of feelings. he comes, he hangs around for a bit, fucks you, does some aftercare and comes back a week later.

he holds your chin, and tilts your head up. you meet his worried gaze and sigh, “'s been stressful lately. nothin' else.” you try to smile and he mirrors your visage, smiling that goddamn smile of his.

“i understand.” he takes a step back, “wanna stop?”

before you could reply, you hear some commotion outside and quickly kneel down, hiding yourself. wonwoo pulls his pants, hiding his softening cock. he looks at you, confusedly and you whisper-shout, “i don't know! in the ramen aisle?!”

“shit, sorry—”

“wonwoo? you work here?”

wonwoo's eyes snap to the source of the voice, and he finds his 6' ft tall best friend smiling at him, confusedly. meanwhile your heart twists and turns cause you recognize that voice to be his close friend's. did he never mention you to his friends?

“I—uhm.. no. I don't work here. I'm just looking over the store. the—uh, the cashier had some work? she asked me to look over. yeah..”

mingyu squints at his best friend and roommate of years, not really convinced with his explanation. and why does it even smell like sex here? oh wait—

“do you know where the restroom is?”

he chuckles at the younger, noticing his awkward posture and urgent expression. he points outside and mingyu dashes out the door. the laughter that follows gets stuck in his throat when you grab his dick. wonwoo groans and he immediately hardens under your touch.

maybe you have no shame after all but two could play the game. you stand up, backing him up against the counter before kneeling down again. you swiftly pull down his pants and his cock springs free with pearls of precum oozing out the tip.

you waste no time in swallowing him whole. his length gags you, and your eyes brim with tears but you don't stop bobbing your head up and down his cock. wonwoo groans and bucks his hip into your mouth, forcing you down.

he could cum from just the way your throat constricts around his cock. he grips your hair, guiding your head to work on his length. you trace the vein that runs on the base of his cock with your tongue and swirl it on his tip as well.

your nose brushes against his hip and you gag, making wonwoo sputter a plethora of curses. he's a mess, moaning and bucking his hips like some wild animal with no restraint. you cup his balls in your hand and choke intentionally.

he loses all conscience and starts fucking your face with both his hands holding your head. you savour the heavy weight on your tongue and the taste of his salty precum makes your pussy flutter. wonwoo whimpers when you hum around his cock. his toes curl inside his sneakers, and he's inching closer to his orgasm.

your eyes do the trick when you look up at him through your eyelashes and his hips stutter in your mouth. hot, white ribbons of his semen coat the insides of your mouth and throat. the man above you throws his head back, moaning from his throat.

“wonu—” a scandalized gasp leaves from mingyu's mouth at the sight before him.

wonwoo tries to pull you away but you don't relent, opting to continue warming his cock with your mouth. he curses at the mischievous glint in your eyes, and he can practically feel the smirk, decorating your lips. you suck on his tip, milking him to the brim before pulling his cock out with a 'pop!'

all while mingyu watches everything unfold with a growing boner of his own. you stand up and open your mouth, showing him how you swallowed everything. your eyes wander to mingyu's dumbfounded figure and offer him a wink before moving out the counter to find your pants.

you sway your hips, your butt on display for both the men. “shit, is she the girl you always talk about?”

“mingyu, shut the fuck up!”

you try not to keel over and die as your hear their exchange. so, he talks about you? when your finally out of their sight, you press a hand over your palpitating heart and feel a blush grow on your cheeks. the cold air hits your cunt when you finally find your pants in the ramen aisle, and put it on.

with a much needed self-advice and quiet squealing, you walk back to the counter and face the two guys who go silent at your arrival. you raise a brow at them and mingyu places a box of Oreo O's on the counter and smiles while trying to hide his raging boner.

“how are you not sick of that?” wonwoo grimaces, his own boner poorly his with his awkward hand placement. you chuckle at the light shade of pink dusting his ears, cute.

you give mingyu his cherished diabetic cereal and get the cash, all while making 'fuck-me' eyes at wonwoo. which mingyu picks up on with a pout on his lips, obviously not content with being the third wheel.

wonwoo leaves the store with him but not before pressing a soft kiss to your lips and whispering, “i'll make it up. is tomorrow at 4 ok for you?”

“i don't work on weeken—”

“i know.”

“your dorms or mine?”

wonwoo rolls his eyes with a faux annoyed smile. “at the movie theater with two tickets for Men In Black.”

“Is that your choice of movie for a first date, Mr. Jeon?” you pull him down by his collar and kiss him but it's hard to classify it as a kiss when both of you are smiling so wide.

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xo100 · 10 days

Text

Baking cookies pt. 2- LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando confesses his feelings for Y/N after years of friendship and raising Nina together. They share a tender moment, embracing the possibility of something more.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1035

previous part ౨ৎ next

୨ৎ

It had been a few days since the cookie-baking afternoon, but Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of Lando’s hand brushing against hers or the way his voice softened when he thanked her. She had thought about it far more than she cared to admit. Sure, they had always been close, but something about that day felt different—like the air between them had shifted ever so slightly.

Today, she found herself back at Lando’s place. This time, it was a quieter evening. No baking, no rushing around. Just a casual dinner with Lando and Nina, who was currently playing in the living room, her laughter echoing through the house as she entertained herself with her toy cars.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Lando’s voice brought her back to the present. He was leaning against the kitchen island, his blue eyes fixed on her with that familiar playful glint.

Y/N shook her head, smiling as she stirred the sauce simmering on the stove. “You’d need more than a penny for these thoughts, Norris.”

“Oh? That intriguing, huh?” he teased, moving to stand beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed again.

She chuckled, trying to focus on the cooking rather than the way his presence made her stomach flutter. “Maybe.”

“Tell me,” he nudged her gently, his voice dropping slightly.

Y/N bit her lip, keeping her eyes on the pot. She had never been great at hiding things from Lando, and now was no exception. But before she could respond, a small, excited voice interrupted them.

“Daddy! Auntie Y/N!” Nina called from the living room. “Come see my race track!”

Lando grinned, giving Y/N a look that said we’ll continue this later, before he walked out to join Nina. Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her mind spinning as she finished preparing dinner.

The evening passed in a comfortable rhythm. They ate together, sharing stories about their day, with Nina animatedly telling them all about her adventures with her toys. Y/N and Lando exchanged playful banter like they always did, but the undercurrent of something more was still there—quiet but impossible to ignore.

After dinner, Nina’s energy finally started to wane. She climbed onto Y/N’s lap, snuggling into her with her favorite stuffed animal clutched in one hand. “I’m sleepy,” she mumbled, her eyes drooping.

“Looks like someone’s ready for bed,” Y/N said softly, running a hand through Nina’s curls.

Lando smiled at the sight, his gaze lingering on the two of them for a moment before he spoke. “I’ll get her tucked in.”

He lifted Nina into his arms, and Y/N watched as he carried his daughter upstairs, the gentle way he spoke to her making Y/N’s heart swell. Lando had always been a natural with Nina, but watching him now, it was clear just how much he had grown into his role as her father. He was thoughtful, patient, and always put her first. It was one of the many reasons Y/N had fallen for him, even if she hadn’t fully admitted that to herself yet.

By the time Lando returned, Y/N was sitting on the couch, absently flipping through her phone. He plopped down beside her with a sigh, his arm casually draped along the back of the couch. “She’s out like a light.”

“She had a busy day,” Y/N smiled, setting her phone down.

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the soft glow of the living room lights casting shadows on the walls. Then, Lando spoke, his voice quiet. “About earlier…”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She had been wondering if he’d bring it up. “Yeah?”

He turned slightly to face her, his expression more serious than usual. “I’ve been thinking… about you. About us.”

“Us?” Y/N’s voice was barely a whisper.

Lando nodded, his eyes searching hers. “You’ve always been there for me, for Nina. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you these past few years. And I’ve been wondering if maybe… there could be more between us. If you feel it too.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The words she had been too afraid to say were now hanging in the air between them. She had always felt something more for Lando, but she had never wanted to risk their friendship—or complicate things for Nina.

But now, with him sitting so close, his eyes so sincere, Y/N realized she didn’t want to keep pretending anymore.

“I do,” she said softly, her heart racing. “I’ve felt it for a while.”

Lando’s face lit up with a smile, one that made Y/N’s heart soar. He reached out, gently taking her hand in his. “I’ve been wanting to say something for months, but I didn’t want to push you… or mess anything up.”

Y/N shook her head, her fingers tightening around his. “You’re not pushing me. I… I want this too. I want us.”

For a moment, they just sat there, hands intertwined, the weight of their unspoken feelings finally released. It was as if everything had fallen into place—like all the years of friendship, support, and love had led to this moment.

Lando leaned in slowly, his gaze flicking to her lips before meeting her eyes again. “Can I kiss you?”

Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering as she nodded. “Yes.”

With that, Lando closed the distance between them, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tender kiss. It was gentle, unhurried, but filled with the promise of so much more. When they finally pulled apart, they were both smiling, their foreheads resting against each other’s.

“So,” Lando murmured, his voice still soft, “does this mean I can look forward to more cookies?”

Y/N laughed, lightly smacking his chest. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah, but you love it,” he teased, his eyes twinkling.

“I guess I do,” Y/N admitted, her heart swelling with happiness.

As they sat there, the warmth of their newfound connection wrapping around them like a cozy blanket, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like this was where she was meant to be—by Lando’s side, with Nina, in this little family they had created together. And now, it wasn’t just a friendship anymore.

It was so much more.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it and that this was what you expected for part 2 if not let me know! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!

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dixons-sunshine · 2 months

Text

“Hey, Peach. Ya alrigh'?”

The gruff, deep voice of your husband drew your attention away from the treeline you were focused on. You sent him a small, tender smile, your hand rubbing small circles over your small bump. “Yeah, I'm okay,” you confirmed, leaning back against the car on the highway you and the others had founded yourself on. “Just got hit by a rush of memories, and not the fun ones.”

Daryl hummed and moved to lean against the car as well, right next to you. He dropped his bag on the ground. “Penny for yer thoughts?”

You sighed and leaned into his side, smiling softly when Daryl instantly wrapped his arms around you. “It's just... This reminds me of that highway we were on after the CDC. The one we...” you trailed off, a lump forming in your throat at the mere thought of what had transpired all those years ago.

Daryl simply sighed. He couldn't bring himself to finish your sentence. Even all these years later, little Sophia Peletier's death still weighed heavily on his mind. She had disappeared from a highway just like the one your group currently was on, because of a situation pretty similar to the one that had transpired a mere hour ago.

Your group's vehicle had broken down on the highway, flooded by cars, and had to hide from a herd passing through, just like way back when. The only differences this time around was that the herd wasn't nearly as big as the one that had passed through back then, a little kid didn't go missing in the woods, and the two of you were married; back then, you had been in a relationship with Shane. The most notable difference, though, was definitely that back then, you weren't pregnant with his baby. The two of you weren't about to start a family. Hell, he convinced himself back then that he hated you. He had wanted nothing to do with you.

However, as he held you tightly against his side, the wedding ring on your left hand glinting in the hot summer sun, his own matching wedding band resting snugly on his left hand, he supposed his younger self couldn't have been more wrong about his feelings towards you.

“Yeah,” Daryl began softly, a deep sigh leaving him as he finally broke the silence. “Yeah, those weren't the best times.”

“Not at all,” you agreed with a nod, a quiet sigh leaving your chest.

The two of you fell into silence. The only things that could be heard were the distant chatter of your group members, and the sound of birds chirping above you. Daryl could see the small frown on your face as your hands lightly gripped the edge of your—well, technically his—shirt, right above the life that fluttered beyond your skin. Thinking of that time with Sophia clearly made you worry of your own abilities to take care of your unborn child. Daryl knew that he wouldn't be able to ease your worries overnight, so he instead opted for something else.

You needed a distraction.

“I found some things I think ya might like, if ya wanna check 'em out?” Daryl finally broke the silence.

You looked at him with curiosity, your eyes following his hand as he gestured towards his bag that rested next to him on the ground. “What do you have?” The archer simply bent down and opened his bag. However, when he pulled out an article of clothing, you gasped in delight. “Is that...?”

Daryl smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Baby clothes. Found a bunch of 'em in one'a the cars.” You reached out to grab the small, pale yellow onesie, marvelling at the softness of the fabric, making Daryl smile. He reached down and picked up the bag, placing it down on the bonnet of the car, before beginning to grab other things as well. “Found a bunch'a toys, too,” he told you, showing you the little stuffed duck he had found. “Oh, and somethin' Michonne told me ya'd need for when ya, uh... for when ya need to store some of yer milk for our lil' one.” He placed a manual breast pump down on the bonnet. He kept his eyes focused on the stuffed animal in his hand, shy to meet your gaze. “I found more, but I put it in the RV 'cause my bag ain't that big. I prolly went a bit overboard, but I jus' thought, y'know, if we take a bunch'a stuff now, we won't need to worry 'bout it in the future. I ain't—”

You effectively cut him off by wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. “Thank you,” you whispered to him. “It's perfect. You're perfect. Our baby and I are so lucky to have you.”

Daryl wrapped his arms around you. “Nah, m'the lucky one. M'the luckiest man under the sun. Still can't believe yer actually willin' to do this with me. Start a family.”

“With you, I'm willing to do anything. I love you, Daryl Dixon.”

“I love ya more, Y/N Dixon. So fuckin' much.”

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tojisun · 4 days

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(quietly) oh god thinking about kyle falling in love with his new neighbour.

How he was just going to crack open a window to let the breeze in only to stop at the sight of his neighbour and her daughter dancing in the rain, twin smiles tugging at their lips as they hop around in their front lawn, feet digging into the muddy parts of their grass garden, letting the water splash out.

Laughter trickles from the two, and it tickles Kyle’s ears, filling him up with such longing he can’t even put a proper name to it.

She is the single mother who moved from another country.

Why she settled in this little suburb, Kyle doesn’t know but he’s thankful of her because there are times when he forgets about many things—himself, for one; the touch of soft blankets and the feel of warm water, for another—but somehow he always finds himself snapping back to his body at seeing her.

At hearing her.

She is beautiful. She is beyond beautiful. She is—

God, how can anyone have that much fortitude and strength and love? How can anyone see the world so optimistically; so full of wonder?

“Oh, you,” she’d murmured, shy, when Kyle had told her of his thoughts, and he watched as her eyelashes brushed against her cheeks at her quiet chuckle.

Kyle’s throat had gone parched—he has never felt this type of yearning before; one that makes him full even when he’s yet to eat anything. One that lulls him to a quiet sleep like his mind and his body have finally found their centre of gravity; like they’re no longer unyielding nor unforgiving. But kind.

Filling. Wondrous.

“It’s because of my little duckling,” she continued, eyes crinkling in her delight. She turned to her snoozing daughter. “I would have been lost without my darling Pen.”

She looked at Kyle then, smiling like he wasn’t just a kind stranger. Like he wasn’t just a nobody.

Kyle stares at the them now, his lips quivering as he watches them dance and splash and giggle to each other. Their laughter sounds like chimes. Like twinkling bells. Like what home sounds.

Kyle stares at them now, wondering if he could ever be part of their family.

(He already is. Have been, for a while now.

Penelope adores Kyle. So much so that she would not stop asking you when could she play agIn with the kind man next door.

She tells you that Kyle is so patient—not in those words, but she tells you that Kyle always asks more about her stories, and asks her who are her friends and which of her collection of toys is her favourite.

And Pen is still too young to understand the word ‘patience’ but she tells you how Kyle is nothing but.

How he never once rejects her tea time invitation, even if the tea is just bottled sweet tea and grocery store cupcakes that you were able buy that week.

How he never once asks why she doesn’t know how to tie her shoelaces, and instead teaches her time and time again. That he never gets snappy even if she keeps forgetting.

She even recounts to you how excited she had been when Kyle showed up for the dad-daughter dance hosted at her school. He’d asked for your permission then, going shy as he stuttered out his, “But I don’t want to impose and you can say no, I swear, and we can just ignore this and—”

“Kyle,” you murmured, your eyes prickling with tears. “I’d be honoured if you were there for Pen.”

He said something to you then. It was a slip of his tongue, clearly something he didn’t want you to hear, and you honoured his wishes but when a man like Kyle—

No.

When Kyle says, “I wish I can be there f’r you too.” What is the natural reaction if not to let him know that he can?

That you want him too?)

(Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He talks funny, like the many others in this new country.

Mama said it’s not nice to say that Mr. Kyle talks funny but Mr. Kyle is not angry. He just laughs with Penny, and says she should hear his best friend, Mr. Johnny, talk.

Penny is told Mr. Johnny sings more than he talks. Penny giggles at the idea of it.

Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He is warm and he always has toffee in his pocket for Penny.

He also laughs loud, like the one from the belly, and she thinks that his laugh fills their house with how loud it is. Mama said that Mr. Kyle laughs loud so that the monsters under Penny’s bed would leave. Penny cried and said many thanks to Mr. Kyle after that.

Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He…

He makes mama happy.

Not the way Penny makes mama happy. No one can make mama more happy than Penny could! But he buys her flowers and donuts and- and books! Adults are so weird.

Books are no fun.

Sometimes she wished Mr. Kyle can be her real dad.)

#kyle gaze garrick x reader #kyle gaz x reader #gaz x reader #suns #sometimes you hear a specific song that makes you long for a family. for something so #soft and mundane and ordinary #today is that day for me. i heard that song and here we are #penelope (for her wisdom) or irene (‘peace’)#were the names i wanted for the daughter hehe :3

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konigsblog · 3 months

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Rapist-König thots™ 🩸

CW: RAPE/NON-CON/DUB-CON, KIDNAPPING, DARK FICTION, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. MDNI 18+

König knows he shouldn't be into this, and a part of him feels ashamed of himself and his behaviour. But, there's something so delicious about taking someone non-consensually, having his way with you and smelling the booze and marijuana off of your skin.

He'll mock you for the tears that run down your cheeks, the way you wriggle and squirm, your attempts at freeing and protecting yourself fruitless as König pushes his bodyweight down onto you, to stretch your tight cunt with his massive, aching boner. You shake and tremble, horror and mortification rushing through your bones and causing your slick pussy to tighten uncontrollably, only making it more enjoyable for the sick bastard above you. König won't hesitate to beat you a little. You ought to be taught a lesson after all that disobedience and misbehaviour. He'll push you down into the mattress, driving his broad and muscular hips back and forth. The only noises that leave König's mouth are breathless grunts and groans of satisfaction and enjoyment. It's perverse and immoral, but that's what makes it so enjoyable.

It's taboo - But, König can't help himself from re-enacting his darkest fantasies. He lays there, forcing your hips down onto him while you whimper out pitifully and attempt to push him away, your voice now hoarse and quiet from all that crying earlier. He'd love to rape an inexperienced little rookie, someone so new to the military, to brutalise and traumatise them, to be the only thing on their mind. You need to be broken in and taught a lesson, taught how to behave and act accordingly, to present yourself at König and let him roughen you up. To König, you're rape meat - made for his own entertainment. The chains around your ankles and wrists satisfy him, knowing you can do nothing but sob out through the agonising sensation between your legs. Choke, little lamb, he'll only fuck that throat a little harder. Use your teeth and he'll make sure you're beaten until you're unconscious, ‘til that familiar crismon blood blurs your vision.

Rough!König is an asshole. He profits off of your body, and you don't see a penny of that money. It just means he can buy his favourite fuck toy some more toys, to use on you for hours until you're slobbering all over yourself, overwhelmed and overstimulated. You're conditioned and taught how to enjoy it, until you've developed stockholm syndrome and crave that power imbalance and his forceful, abusive attitude. He'll make sure to record you crying, perhaps write on your body with a sharpie, to degrade and shame you for being so addictive...

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floylia · 2 months

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A MOMENT DESIRED

— wanderer x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: He doesn’t need a heart to feel. Puppet or human. A heart or without—it does not matter anymore.

Kunikuzushi was designed to serve a divine purpose.

Kabukimono searched for curiosity and acceptance.

Scaramouche existed to fulfill that which he lacked.

While Wanderer was created to embrace humanity.

To walk beside them. A fresh start–whether he had a heart or not. Because despite it all, his mother discarded him for his emotions–sorrow and laughter–which proved to be a weakness, but perhaps, it’s finally time he acknowledges that craving for the impossible is a waste of time.

So he learns to live.

Rather, Nahida makes him learn, quite literally.

Instead of performing mass destruction, he stands in the House of Daena, scanning through the thousands of books they harbor. He skims through the pages, coughing once in a while from the dust that had settled on the shelves.

A once renowned Fatui Harbinger has now turned into a Vahumana Scholar.

How ridiculous, he thinks.

“I have your tea,” A familiar voice declared through the hushed voices in the room. You approach him with two drinks in hand, “I don’t understand why you like bitter things.”

“The more bitter the better,” he replies calmly, tracing the book spines, and skimming through its contents. Too immersed to engage in a conversation, but he indulges.

“My arms are tired, hurry up”

He pulls out a decrepit book before grabbing his tea from your hand, “You complain too much.”

“It’s piping hot. I don’t understand how you don’t notice the temperature.”

He shrugs and leads both of you to a nearby table. On it, mechanical items, cloth and a sewing kit scatter around, clearly tinkered with, “What is this?’

“I’m making a toy,” you respond.

He raises a brow, expecting you to explain further but you don’t. You take a seat across from him.

“Kshahrewar scholars,” He whispered while shaking his head.

You pass him the sewing kit, “We’re making toys.”

“What. Why?”

“Less questions, more doing.”

At times like this, you remind him of Nahida. Constantly ordering him around. Yet he follows like an obedient dog.

This time not out of obligation as a “prisoner,” but because he wants to.

With you, he doesn’t need to give his actions reason.

It’s a foreign concept.

But he’ll learn. He’s best at adapting.

“Let me teach you,” You say after watching him struggle to put the thread on the pin.

“I’m not made for this.” He says.

“Clearly.”

Your hands brush, he doesn’t understand why his face flush, or why he craves your touch–a moment too quick, a moment desired. But he observes how your concentrated face contorts into various expressions—how your eyes twinkle with passion, how your lips fall into a steady line, how your hands skillfully follow a rhythm as you teach him the ways of knitting.

Admiration flows through his body.

Yes. Admiration. That is the word.

You must’ve noticed his stare, because you match his gaze. It’s too soft. Too intimate. Too close. He looks at your lips then back at your eyes.

Admiration. He reasons.

But the urge to cup your face and kis–

No.

He coughs, “Sorry.”

You continue.

In no time, he gets the hang of it. Hours go by, but it didn’t feel like it. Your presence alone makes time a fickle matter.

Finally, he finishes the small doll.

Both of you admire his work—a short boy with white clothes, dark black hair, paired with a waistband and a teardrop beside its eyes.

In some way, it resembles him. A version of him derived from misery.

“You should’ve joined Kshahrewar. You have the talent for it,” you say truthfully.

“I’d rather not work myself to death for a penny.”

You gasp, “That stereotype is old. Is reusing the same content natural for you Vahumana folks? Does creativity not flow through your class?”

He scoffs at your words, but finds no offense in your statement. He’s fond of your annoyed face, how you ramble into oblivion. Something about hearing your voice makes his none-existent heart flutter.

This. He’s not used to.

“Who is that by the way?” You point at the doll.

“A puppet.”

“A puppet? Don’t they need strings?”

“No. It’s not tied down. It’s free.”

—

You don’t see him the next day.

But you do see another doll lying on your usual table–one that resembles you followed by a note underneath, “The puppet found itself a companion. I hope you don’t mind.”

You certainly don’t mind.

NOTE:

inspired by wanderer’s friendship level 4 story

#— floy 🖋️#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #wanderer x reader #wanderer genshin #genshin x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #wanderer #genshin fanfic

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sometimesanalice · 1 year

Text

Up the Ante

Summary: Rooster had heard the whispers. He knew what the stories were about- the ones that had followed him and Hangman around for years. You, however, are more than happy to find out for yourself if all the rumors were true.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader x Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Length: 9K+

Warnings: Smut. So. Much. Smut. (MINORS DNI)

(author's note: I regret nothing. Enjoy!)

Leave it to Jake Seresin to fuck up his plans.

Rooster had been in a really great mood when he’d arrived to the Hard Deck earlier that night. He’d beat most of the team there and had been on his way to go claim the pool table before the Friday night rush when he’d seen you out of the corner of his eye sitting at the bar.

He’d nearly given himself whiplash trying to get a better look at you. And then the next thing he knew, he’d found his feet taking him up to the stool right next to you. The mission to get the pool table completely forgotten.

And he still didn’t know how it was possible, but you were even prettier up close.

Even with the low dip of your creamy silky looking tank top, with all your skin taunting and teasing him, his eyes had stayed on yours the whole time as the two of you talked. That smile of yours was a bit too knowing. He could sense you were waiting, daring him to slip up.

Just for fun, just to see.

Yeah, you had his number alright. There was no question about it.

And fuck, if he wasn’t already down to let you toy with him whichever way you wanted. His cock twitching in his already slightly too snug jeans when he’d caught you checking him out after he’d ordered a fresh round of drinks from Jimmy.

The busier the bar got, the closer the two of you were pushed together as the other patrons clamored around waiting to place their orders. His forearm grazing against your exposed back from where he had it braced on your stool to keep you from getting jostled by thirsty sailors.

He’d stepped away for a moment when Natasha had called him over to back her up in a game with Reuben and Mickey. He he’d left you with a promise to be back, not wanting to come on too over bearing by not giving you any time to yourself. The groundwork was laid and he didn’t mind the wait.

He could be patient, he knew a good thing when he saw it.

And of course, when he’d looked back over his shoulder. There was Hangman with his elbow leaning on the bar, standing in the spot he’d just vacated. And looking at you like the cat who’d caught the canary with that fucking toothpick dangling from the corner of his mouth.

Rooster really shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d felt the other aviator’s gaze on him as he’d talked to you, could sense him waiting in the wings ready to make his move.

After the Uranium Mission, their tentative truce had grown into a casual camaraderie. But that didn’t mean they still didn’t enjoy riling each other up.

Jake had a tendency to steal his beer when he wasn’t looking, swapping it out with his empties behind his back. Not to mention, the way he liked to rack up a bill of Bradley’ tab.

And Bradley had no problem unplugging Penny’s jukebox approximately two minutes after watching Jake feed the machine his quarters before taking over on the piano. Playing whatever songs made the other man grimace the most.

But it had been years since they’d done this.

When the two of them had first met, their competition to be the best and one-up the other had spilled over from the skies into pretty much everything else. If one had flight simulation scores were topping the chart, then the other was figuring out how beating it. If one was benching a personal record, the other was already tacking on extra weight to their own.

So then, if one was talking to a pretty girl at the bar, the other was usually waiting for his moment to try and out charm, out talk, or out smile the other behind his back.

Or in front of his face.

Neither of them had cared to play fair back then. The bragging rights plastered across the winners face the next morning on base.

Rooster thought he’d made his intentions very clear. For all intents and purposes, he had claimed dibs. Well, as much as he could on a woman who was fully entitled and capable making her own decisions.

Now he was half way across the bar, watching as Hangman threw his cowboy hat into the ring.

“Jesus, Rooster. Stare any harder and you’re going to strain something, man,” Payback teased as he lined up his shot, before sending the freshly racked balls scattering on the pool table.

Bradley doesn’t respond, just brings the lukewarm beer to his mouth and downs the remaining few swigs. His hand tightening around the bottle as you throw your head back to laugh at something that Hangman has said, the sight of your exposed throat makes his mouth go dry.

“You know what they say, the more the merrier. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time, right?” Fanboy says with a laugh that gets cut off with a wheezy, breathy oof.

Looking over his shoulder, Bradley sees Phoenix looking down at Fanboy shaking her head at him as she dropped a couple there-there pats on the doubled over man’s back.

“Please that rumor has been around for years,” Nat stated, “Before we got called back, those two could barely be in the same airspace, let alone in the same bedroom.”

“I don’t know, I bet there’s more to that story. I heard-” Payback starts.

This time, Bradley turns around and raises an eyebrow. The conversation quickly finds a new subject, and he goes back to glaring at the back of Hangman’s head.

He wasn’t unaware of the pointed looks and whispers that had followed him and Seresin around.

Everyone seemed to have their own opinions on the topic. They did. They didn’t. A friend of a friend had seen them leave with a girl. A buddy said they saw them fighting in the parking lot over who got to take her home.

He didn’t care about the speculation, he’d even heard some pretty interesting drunken theories along the way. Any tips to sneak a girl in the barracks for a hookup in the laundry room? How can three people even fuck in the back of a Bronco? Or his favorite, I heard y’all did the Eiffel Tower in the ATC tower.

But he wasn’t one to feed the fire. He didn’t know the other man’s reasons for not indulging the curious questions, but Hangman must have felt the same way, since neither one of them had yet to confirm or deny the story.

It was easier to just grin and shrug and leave them guessing.

From his spot stationed at the pool table he could see there was interest in your eyes at you looked at Seresin. Just as he’d seen it when you had looked at him with that same keen perceptiveness, the heat that lingered behind the teasing. And fuck, if that didn’t make him want you even more.

He liked a woman who went after what she wanted.

That pull low in his stomach had been there since he’d first seen you and had only gotten worse as he watched Jake try and get under his skin.

It would be almost comical the way the asshole turns his head just enough in his direction to shoot him a wink before settling his hand on the top of your thigh, if it didn’t make his blood thrum hot in his veins.

“Bradshaw, it’s your turn.” He hears one of them try and get his attention, but 8-Ball wasn’t what he wanted to play right now.

He had a stake in a different game going on.

If you wanted Hangman over him, he would respect that. But he sure as shit wasn’t going to fold, not when he still had a hand worth playing.

“And there’s the cock walk…” he hears Nat mutter as pushes off the pool table to make his way across the bar.

He knew how to turn heads and how to work a room. But there was only one head he wanted to turn, only one person in the room he wanted to work. He was going to his damndest to ensure it was his bed you’re in tonight.

Bradley is downright shameless in the way he struts right up to the two of you. Letting his chest brush up against you as he claims the seat next to you. He murmurs your name low and raspy as he settles into the stool, catching the way your hips shift subtly in response. That pull behind his bellybutton only intensifying.

You don’t look surprised to see him, if anything you look intrigued. That full bottom lip pinned between your teeth, your cheek ticked up like you’re fighting back a satisfied smile.

“Well if it ain’t Rooster,” Hangman drawls, those dimples deepening with every passing moment, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Bagman,” he grunts taking the whiskey from his hand. Feeling smug when your eyes latch on to his throat, watching as he swallows it down, savoring the warm burn of the free drink before he presses the empty glass back into the other man’s hand. “Looks like you’ve scored yourself another admirer, pretty girl. How’s he measure up? You can be brutally honest, it’d be good for him to keep his ego in check.”

You tilt your head at him, “So far I’ve got no complaints.”

“Damn straight you don’t,” Jake winks.

“How generous of you,” Rooster says, ignoring the other man completely, as he sets his hand on your leg.

He has always been a sucker for a pretty troublemaker.

Your tongue dips out to lick the rim of your glass, before taking another sip of the drink that he didn’t buy for you. “Oh, I can be very generous,” you all but purr.

“I bet,” Hangman cuts in, looking on entirely too pleased with himself.

Rooster leans in closer to you, “I thought I was the one buying your drinks tonight.” He can smell the faintest hint of your perfume, and he has to hold himself back from the urge to run his nose along the column of your neck to get a better whiff of it.

“I’m an equal opportunity drink receiver,” you say with a little shrug of your shoulder.

“Mhm, sounds good for the economy,” he allows.

“I do love to support small businesses.”

“There’s nothing small about it, baby,” Bradley says sliding his palm up higher on your thigh than would be considered decent. From the corner of his eye he can see Hangman clocking the movement. That shit eating grin going from teasing to knowing as he flips that stupid toothpick in his mouth.

“Was wondering how long it was going to take you to make a move,” Jake says reaching under your stool and pulling it out further from the way you’d been half tucked underneath the bartop. “Thought you were gonna just keep staring all night.”

“Nah, just thought I’d give you a fair shot. You know, since you usually rub people the wrong way,” Rooster smirks.

“Oh, now you and I both know I’d treat her just right,” Hangman says smoothly, not missing a beat. “You think you can keep up with a pretty thing like her, old man? Wouldn’t want to keep you from your Dan Brown novel or anything.”

“I’m sure I got a thing or two I could show you, son.”

The other pilot takes your chin between his thumb and finger turning your head to look at him, that grin bigger than ever, “You up for settling something between us, darlin’?”

Rooster is close enough to hear the hitch in your breathing and definitely close enough to see the way your thighs squeeze together.

“I guess that’s one way to up the ante,” you say as you reach up to pluck that toothpick from his mouth and popping it in yours instead. Grinning slyly around it as you uncross your legs to turn back towards him, your eyebrow cheekily cocked up and questioning.

Rooster’s eyes drift over to Seresin’s mouth. That cocky smirk plastered on his face takes him back to another time, on another night similar to this, when his lips had been slick-shined and that smile just as smug and self-satisfied.

He’s not sure how many bills he tossed on top of the bar before he grabbed your hand and tugged you off the stool, towing you with him as he strode to the door. Not bothering to check and see if the other man is following them, he already knows where he’ll be.

Bradley holds the door open for you to step through under his arm and the last thing he sees before he lets the door close behind him is Nat’s shocked face and Fanboy’s fist punching the air as Jake trails after them.

You felt too hot.

Your breathing was already coming out in ragged, breathy pants.

The ride to Rooster’s house in his bright blue Bronco had been a blur of flashing lights and warm summer air and a hand heavy on your knee. Content in the passenger’s seat, even as he sped fifteen miles over the speed limit, in the surety of knowing whose headlights were bright and beaming in the rearview mirror.

But the feeling of two hot mouths working their way up and down your neck was definitely not a blur.

They’d had you pinned up against Bradley’s front door the moment it had shut behind the three of you. Barely waiting for the snick of the lock turning before making their move.

You weren’t sure whose thigh was pressed between your legs, but the solid width of it was dizzying as you rocked against it. You feel almost too aware of every part of your body. Your skin sensitive and responsive to every graze and touch of their strong, capable hands as they coast over your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps and raised hair with every pass.

Squeezing your hips. Tangling in your hair. Gripping your ass.

Their hard bodies were so tightly crowded against yours, that you weren’t even sure at this point if your own legs were the ones keeping you up as they took what they wanted and gave what they wanted.

Your puffy, swollen lips tingling as they took turns claiming your mouth with theirs.

It’s a lot, but in the best of ways, to hear their combined moans and groans over the thundering of your pulse in your ears. Their leather and wood smoke scents mixing together in the most deliciously heady way. All their solid angles and ridges pressed against your soft curves.

You’re vibrating with anticipation- with want- as your heart flutters in your chest like a caged bird, its wings beating against the too tight confines of your ribcage.

It’s already so good and no one is even naked yet.

One of them wraps their thought provokingly large hand around your throat as pulls you in to meet their mouth, gentle yet firm. The taste of whiskey and the brush of a mustache against your upper lip giving Bradley away. While another hungry mouth glides its way along your collarbone. The graze and nip of sharp teeth has you breaking your kiss to gasp at the sensation. Only to be met with a new set of demanding lips, you can feel Jake’s smirk against your mouth the moment right before he slips you his tongue.

Your own hands are greedy to get their fill of them. Running along thick forearms and broad chests and straining zippers. You want to map out every contour of their sculpted bodies. Every new muscle you find only makes you want to discover more.

There’s a moment when you think your knees might actually give this time out when Hangman bends down to take your peaked nipple in his mouth through your thin top with a mischievous gleam in his green eyes as he looks up at you and then hollows out his cheeks. The sight and sensation of it makes you suck in a shattered breath. If it weren’t for that thigh, Rooster’s you know now, keeping you upright you very much would have been a boneless puddle on the floor.

“You still think you can handle the two of us?” Jake challenges you with a dimpled grin before pulling you back into his mouth. Your nails dig into the back of his neck to keep him there, and he has the audacity to hum around you. The vibrations of it pulsing and spreading and settling over your craving clit.

“Well?” Bradley asks teasingly when you try and fail to reply, his warm hand sliding up your stomach under your top to palm at your other breast. And whatever you were going to say evaporates at the feel of his calloused thumb scraping over your taut nipple.

His curls are a mess and that look on his face promises the best kind of trouble.

“Fuck. Fuck. B-bedroom. Now,” you stutter and stumble over your words, overcome and overwhelmed. You hear one chuckle near your ear and the other moan into your throat at the neediness in your voice.

The three of you are gracefully uncoordinated in way you work your way to Rooster’s bedroom. You let them manhandle your pliant body around the furniture and corners of his home. What should have been a fairly straight shot turned into a meandering mess as your back is met with walls and doorframes and mouth is met with seeking and searing kisses.

Their shirts and belts and shoes lost somewhere along the way. A trail of items to be found later, laid out like points on a treasure map.

Inside Bradley’s room, your distracted eyes catch on some black and white landscape prints hung on a dove gray wall and a California King pressed another. Minimal, modern, manly. You’d be more nosey if it weren’t for the way you’re caught between them, as Hangman licked up your neck and Rooster ran his tongue along the backs of your teeth.

Your skin erupts in goosebumps as the cool air of Bradley’s air conditioning wafts over your arms. Not that your low-cut top with its open back and flimsy straps offered much for warmth to begin with, which was exactly why you’d worn it in the summer heatwave.

One set of demanding hands works on the button of the fitted jeans that made your ass look great, while the other insatiable pair grabs at the hem of your top pulling it up and off of your body with silky ease. They work together in quiet tandem with such swift efficiency that leaves you almost entirely nude, with the exception of your barely-there panties, before their greedy eyes in no time at all.

“Don’t know what a desperate little thing like you is thinking by wearing white and lookin’ like an angel,” Jake drawls low and taunting against your ear, his breath warm as it sails down the column of your throat, “But since you like the color so much, I think you’d look even prettier wearing our come.”

The flickering flame in your body that had been lit before you’d even left the Hard Deck finally roars to life at his coarse and crude words. You’d almost be offended by them if they weren’t the reason heat explodes like a fireball low in your stomach. Devastating and all consuming.

The noise that tears out of you in response isn’t one you think you’ve ever made before. Your head whips towards him so fast it makes you a little unsteady on your already wobbly legs, and you feel Rooster’s fingers flex on your hips before you pull away.

There’s a wide grin plastered on Jake’s face, only a couple impeccably white and straight teeth away of being down right self-satisfied.

Smug, he’s so damn smug.

He has been ever since he saddled up to you at the bar, like he already knew how the night was going to end. And you don’t know whether you want to wipe that look off of Hangman’s pretty face or to taste those dimples on his cheeks.

You do neither.

Instead, you push Jake onto the edge of the bed, your hands going straight to his zipper to pull out his cock, then watch as that perfectly-perfect and perfectly-infuriating smile falls from his face as you sink to your knees and take him in your mouth and down to the hilt.

“Jesus Christ.”

It’s your turn to be smug now as you watch his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows hard.

Jake’s smirk is long gone, replaced with intense look as you pull off of him to lick and lave along the long vein on the side of his length, looking up at him from beneath your mascara darkened lashes, before drawing him back in your open mouth. He’s so handsome like this and it makes your stomach tighten and seize.

“So damn eager,” you hear Rooster croon over the slippery sounds of you’re making.

You feel confident and totally at home in your own skin under the appreciative eyes of the two men, with Hangman in front of you and Bradley mere steps behind you. The buzz from your tequila had worn off long ago, and the thrill you are feeling is a different kind of high.

You were already wet before you left the bar, but now you are soaked. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on, at least not for a very long time. You wouldn’t be surprised if Bradley could see the evidence of your arousal glistening between your thighs from the way you’re kneeling in front of Jake.

From the corner of you eye, you can see Rooster taking his time as he shucks off the rest of his clothes haphazardly before fisting himself in his big hand as he takes in the sensual scene in front of him. You can feel all the places his eyes linger and trail over, those flames in your stomach spreading over your body like a wildfire.

Grateful for the work Bradley did getting your jeans off earlier, you slip a hand into your panties to get your fingers on your aching clit. You whimper at the instant relief that you feel as you touch yourself. Keening in pleasure around Hangman’s cock, which makes him widen his legs and throw his head back to moan in response.

This wasn’t going to be some hook up cloaked in the cover of a dark room. No, you were going to be on full display for them, just as they’d be for you. And the thought of it up makes you clench against nothing.

You were something brilliant and radiant to look at and you knew it. You wanted them to look, you wanted their eyes to take their fill.

“You going to join, Rooster? Or are you back to sittin’ on that perch?” the blonde goads him, with a sharp smile. His voice strained around the edges of his words as his fists clutch at the fabric of the duvet cover beneath them. “I’m sure you can find some way to keep yourself occupied even though her mouth busy at the moment.”

You reach up with your free hand and give that chain a little tug then dragging it down his chest, your nails digging slightly into his firm pecs before scraping down his abs. He surprises you with a light thrust of his hips that has you settling that tricky hand on his tense thigh for better balance as you continue to work him.

“Just watching how our girl is touching herself,” Bradley replies as he walks over. He is such a sight with all that sunkissed skin on display. “So needy, she can’t even bother waiting her turn.”

You hollow your cheeks around Jake for good measure before releasing him from your mouth, to grasp him in your hand, treating him to a twist of your wrist, “Got tired of waiting, had to take matters into my own hands.”

You wanted them to touch you, to feel them everywhere. You wanted to be taken apart and put back together. You wanted to be thoroughly wrecked by them.

“That so, huh?” The way that Bradley’s smile ticks up makes you suck in a sharp breath, your restless fingers making sloppy circles against that sensitive part of you at the sight of it. “Tell me, how wet are you?”

He looks so good standing next you from your position on your knees and if both of your hands weren’t already busy you’d be reaching out for his heavy cock.

“Why don’t you come find out for yourself?” you dare him, arching your back a little for his benefit.

“But you look so pretty taking care of yourself,” Rooster says cupping your cheek in his hand, then turning his head to the man seated on the bed, “Hey, Seresin, don’t you remember her saying something about her generosity?”

They grin at each other before looking back down at you, and it’s all you can to not squirm under their weighty, heated gaze.

“You know, that does seem to ring a bell, Bradshaw.” A wolf trussed up like the boy-next-door.

“Why don’t you show us just how generous you can be, pretty girl,” Rooster says reaching down pulling your hand out from your panties, his hand wrapped around your forearm, and offers up your shiny fingers to the man you’re kneeling in front of.

Hangman holds your gaze as his tongue reaches out to meet them. Your already erratic heartbeat sets a new rhythm as it slips and glides in a sensual show around them before curing around them to draw them into his cocksure mouth. A deep satisfied hum emanating from his chest as he tastes you.

Bradley releases his hold on you and skims his fingers up along your arm and up the side of your neck, massaging that tapered divot at base of your skull.

Your jaw falls open as you watch Jake bob his head on your fingers like you had been doing on his cock not even five minutes earlier. He shoots you a filthy wink was you watch the debauchery up close in personal, leaning in closer, mesmerized by the sheen of spit coating your fingers. He pulls them from your mouth with one more lewd lick, and then crooks his pointer finger under your chin and turns your head towards Rooster.

“Why don’t you be a sweet little thing and show Bradshaw what he’s missing out on, darlin’,” Jake says, its less of a suggestion and more of a command. One you are happy to oblige.

You hold your tongue out for Rooster in an open invitation and he rumbles his approval.

“Now that’s a pretty picture,” Bradley murmurs, but doesn’t move any closer. He waits for your dazed eyes to meet his heated ones, before nodding his head towards Hangman, who you’re still pumping him with long, smooth strokes, “Go on then, finish what you started. I can wait.” You make a noise of dissatisfaction at being denied the taste of him. He chuckles lightly, “I promise, we’ll take real good care of you soon.”

And with that promise you wrap your lips around Jake again. He spreads his legs wider to accommodate you as you reach to cup his balls in your hand, massaging them.

You feel Rooster settle his hand heavy on the crown of your head, his fingers threading in your hair, before pressing you forward, guiding the motion of your mouth on Jake’s cock. Encouraging you to take more, more, more before pulling you back, only to urge you forward once again.

It’s easy to lose yourself and relax into the push and pull of it as you let them take over. Letting them use you how they want, preening under their crooning praise. Hangman is looking down on you with half-lidded eyes and gives you a slow, wide smile when a thick thread of saliva drips on to your sternum and down your chest.

Your attention-seeking clit throbs in time with your rapid pulse, whimpering pitifully when you can’t get any relief no matter how you shift and squirm.

Then Bradley is tugging on your strands to get you on your feet and meets you for a heady kiss. He hooks his thumbs under the band of your panties and pulls them down your legs, a little lacy heap to decorate his floor.

“Get on the bed, baby.”

Yes, yes, oh yes.

Jake shoves his jeans down the rest of the way and kicks them off. The way he climbs on the bed is all easy grace as he props himself against the headboard. You’re quick to clamber up on your hands and knees between his legs, looking over your shoulder for Rooster’s nod of approval before you lean down to take him back in your mouth.

There has been so much build up. You know that they’ve been easing you into this in their own way, but you’re so desperate for more. You’re like balloon overfilled and taut, one right touch and you might burst.

“God, you’re already so wet.” You feel Bradley’s rough squeeze on the backs of both your thighs followed by the comforting caress of his thumbs, “C’mon, show me that pretty pussy. Let me see it.”

You tilt your hips up, up, up- you want, you need- offering yourself to him until you’re treated to his tongue on you. At last. His wide long licks have you canting your hips further searching for more. The feeling of his lips and mustache against that delicate part of you makes you cry out in satisfaction.

“So greedy,” Jake teases, as his thumb runs gently along your jawline.

He is hot and heavy on your tongue. There is a light sheen of sweat coating his chest, his abs flexing and contracting with every uneven breath. That chain around his neck winking at you from the lamp in the corner of the room. He called you an angel earlier, but he’s the one who looks like sweet sin, a heavenly hedonist.

The filthy sounds of your messy mouth and Rooster’s satisfied groans filling the room as you work one pilot and the other works you. You can feel your orgasm building swiftly, those flames from before being stoked by their grasping hands and teasing lips and dirty words.

The shock of the feeling two of Bradley’s thick fingers glide and curl into you without any resistance, of having something inside of you for the first time all night, sends your body jolting forward. Your hands clutching at the sheets as you sputter and gag around Jake.

“Holy shit,” he pulls you off of him with a pop, a line of spit stretching from your mouth to his glistening cock, “Don’t want to come in your mouth.” Hangman takes your head between his big hands, cradling you carefully. “Goddamn, look at you. You feelin’ good?” It’s all you can do to rapidly nod your head yes. “You should see her, Rooster, she’s real close.”

You hear Bradley chuckle huskily behind you, “And we’ve barely even gotten started.” He targets that spot in you with merciless precision as he scrapes his mustache along your spine dropping kiss after wet kiss. “Now, come on my fingers like a good girl.”

And with his raspy voice in your ear and Jake’s tongue in your mouth, you shatter.

It’s all white noise as one of the maneuvers you gently on to your back as you come down. The feeling of the cool sheets a welcomed sensation on your heated skin. Even though you’re still reeling, you can hear the warmth in their voices as your mind clings to a few select words.

Good. Perfect. Soft. Sweet. Pretty. Generous.

You feel a body shift above you, their sturdy weight only an echo of what it could be if they weren’t holding themselves aloft. Your eyes float open to see Rooster caging you on his bed within the shelter of his sculpted arms.

Next to you Jake is propped up his side, the graze of his fingertips is featherlight as they meander up and down the length of your arm. As if he is content to simply be touching your soft skin.

“You still having fun?” Bradley asks with a knowing smile on his face. Using his thumb, he wipes at some of the saliva smeared under your bottom lip.

“The most,” you grin, turning your head to capture it between your lips.

Rooster watches you in rapt as you suck, giving his thumb the same treatment as you’d given Hangman’s cock, all wet tongue and hollowed out cheeks. The pupils of his pretty brown eyes blown wide. His cock resting heavy on your stomach.

“We’re gonna make a mess out of you,” Bradley promises as he presses his thumb down on your tongue. You look up at him with your best doe-eyes, parting your mouth to give him a better view of the way it pillows around his thumbpad. He applies a bit more pressure with a smirk before removing it from your mouth completely.

“Yes, please.”

He leans in close and your eyes flutter shut at the anticipation of the brush of his lips on yours.

And then he spits right in your waiting mouth.

“Atta girl.”

His smile grows at the whine that comes out of you. He drops a kiss to your forehead and stands back up, towering over you. It’s a visual feast of abs and broad shoulders and tan skin and mischievous eyes. “Pretty sure you almost made Jake see God,” he says looking over, giving the other man a lazy smirk.

“Fuck off,” he says without heat and laughs. Leaning over from where he’s been lounging next to you, he wraps his hand around the nape of our neck and pulls you in, licking deep into your mouth wet with his pre-come and Rooster’s spit. “How’s about you finally show Bradshaw what that pretty mouth can do, while I settle up and repay the favor.”

You don’t know what to make of the look that passes between the two men as they switch spots. It’s a challenge, it’s a dare. You’re still loose-limbed from your orgasm, but you can feel the tension starting to coil low in your stomach again at the glint in their eyes as Bradley crowds up next to you on the bed while Jake stands at the end of it.

Rooster kisses up along your body, his tongue darting out to taste the beads of sweat that are collecting in the valley of your breasts. If you listen closely you can still hear the whir of the air conditioning, but it’s not of much use when you feel like an inferno.

You sigh out when his mouth meets yours. You grasp his face between your hands to keep him close, not wanting to be denied his lips again. Your thumb stroking at the cleft of his chin. Finally. Finally. Finally. You feel like spun sugar, the wet slide of his lips against yours makes you feel like you’re about to dissolve into sweet nothingness.

There’s no hesitation in the way that Hangman situates himself between your parted legs, easing one over his shoulder and then the other. He trails butterfly kisses from your knee and up the inside of your leg. You shiver at the sensation, luxuriating in his touch.

“Condoms?” Jake asks into the crease of your thigh.

You shake your head and let go of Bradley’s face to tap at the spot on your upper arm where that flexible piece of plastic is placed under the skin. They nod their understanding, their agreement.

At least someone still had their feet on the ground, because it feels like your head is in the clouds.

“Thought you said I’d look prettier covered in come?” you try to tease but it just comes out breathy, throwing Hangman’s own words from earlier back at him. Then turning your head to look at Rooster next to you, “Thought you were going to make a mess out of me?”

You know you’re playing with fire. However, you also know that if at any point you couldn’t handle the heat that they would haul you out of the kitchen themselves.

But why stay out of the kitchen when you can just set it on fire yourself?

“Jesus,” Jake curses and nips at your hipbone.

“Fuck’s sake, you really can’t help yourself, can you?” Bradley huffs amused but strained, his eyes raking over you.

The nope and the ‘P’ you were planning to pop gets stuck in your throat as Hangman pins your legs open to the bed, holding you down so you can’t escape his tongue as he licks a hot stripe through the center of you. Your jaw drops open wordlessly.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?” Hangman grunts and then dips his tongue into you again.

One of your hands flies into his sandy blonde hair, while the other reaches out for the sunkissed man next to you. The feeling of Rooster’s fingers lacing between your outstretched ones grounding you as the pressure starts building again.

Where Bradley had been all enthusiastic delving and relentless devouring, Jake is all honed accuracy as he flicks and circles and sucks your clit. There’s no slow build up, he’s not content to simply let you sail smoothly into your next orgasm, not with the way his fingers are working you. No, Jake is set on being the one to push you over that edge himself. And he’ll do it with a blinding white smile and a tip of his hat.

Bradley moves to kneel by your head, stroking his thick cock a few times before offering it to you. The groan that comes out of him when you lick the underside of him before taking him in your mouth is quite possibly one of the hottest sounds you’ve ever heard in your life. His large hand comes to cradle your jaw as you bob up and down on his length.

It doesn’t take long until you’re keening and moaning around him as you come alive under their eyes and touch.

“You look so pretty like this,” Rooster murmurs, his thumb alternating between gliding around your stretched lips and caressing your bulging cheek. “You’re taking my cock so well.”

You know you’re making a mess out of him, but if anything, you feel him grow even harder in your mouth as you take him further into your throat. The sounds coming from you obscene as you lick and suck and swallow around him. You’re trying to stay focused on taking care of him, but Hangman’s tongue and fingers are making it hard for you to concentrate.

Jake is relentless with the two fingers he has working inside of you. His other hand smooths up your torso, long fingers stretched wide, as if he is trying to touch as much of you as possible. And then he’s grabbing at your breasts, massaging one and then moving to the other.

It’s getting overwhelming with so many points of pleasure all vying for your undivided attention. You feel so good, too good. Your chest is tight with want it’s getting harder to take a full breath, the shallow shaky things you’ve been taking making you lightheaded.

You blindly mouth at Rooster’s cock and balls and thighs, whatever you can reach and latch onto as you let your hand take over stroking him. Just for a moment, just to catch your breath.

You whimper when Bradley pulls away from you, only to feel his big body slide down on the bed next to you, his warm hands soothing over your too tight skin.

“That mouth too much for you, Rooster?” Jake grins with shiny lips before slipping a third finger into you, curling them against your front wall, making you keen.

“I know, it’s a lot, but you’re keeping up with us like a champ,” Bradley says to you, pulling you in for a kiss. He reaches down for one of your thighs, pulling it off the other pilot’s shoulder and over his own hip, holding you open. His hand knocks Hangman’s thumb out of the way and his takes over making nonsensical patterns on your clit, making you moan at the contact. “And you should go back to making yours more useful,” he lobs back to the man between your legs.

In your haze, you wonder how they can even share the skies if they’re this competitive in the bedroom.

“Yeah, and what’s yours doin’ up there?” Jake asks, giving it right back to him. You can hear how wet you are as his fingers slide in and out of you, as the Bradley picks up the pace of his movements against you.

“Someone’s got to tell her how good she’s doing,” you can hear the smile in Rooster’s voice as he kisses your neck. He gently runs his lips and mustache along the shell of your ear, “We know how much she like a compliment.”

“Bradley.” The admonishment is lost in your gasp as the faintest graze of his fingernail again your sensitive clit has your back arching off the mattress and your hips bucking against both sets of hands.

“You sound so wrecked, baby. I like how my name sounds in your mouth when you’re all fucked out like this.”

“And those whimpers? I swear, she making the sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard,” Hangman tacks on.

You want to give as good as you’re getting, but your hurtling towards that point again. Already teetering back and forth, almost but not quite there. Overwhelmed, oversensitive, but still needing, wanting...

“More, I need more, Jake,” you’re not quite begging but you’re close, your heel is digging into his shoulder blade, urging him closer. “Jake, I want to come.”

Your clit is aching under Rooster’s teasing touch, and you are squirming and shifting and rocking trying to get more of Jake’s fingers inside of you. You groan when Jake pulls them out of you completely, stopping your motions with a rough grip on your hips. Somewhere in the back of your mind you find yourself hoping that you’ll still be wearing his fingerprints tomorrow morning.

“Nu-uh, greedy girl, you’ll take what we give you,” Hangman says as he stands up and wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand, a streak of your wetness shining on his cheek.

And then his thick cock is pushes into you and all the air leaves your lungs.

His thrusts are measured and slow and sure. Filling you up and then leaving you empty, over and over and over again. His fingers are still digging into your hips leaving you at his mercy, to take what he gives you. Nothing more and nothing less than what he wants.

You didn’t know All-American Texan boys could pull of such a dirty look of pure debauchery, but he wore it so damn well.

There’s no holding back the noise of frustration that comes out of you when Rooster’s teeth graze over your breast, before he sucks your nipple into his hot mouth. He is hard and hot as he grinds himself against the curve of you.

It would be so, so good if didn’t felt like you were bobbing along in a wooden barrel waiting for a drop over Niagara Falls. The anticipation of that freefall thrumming in your veins, but one that never seems to get any closer as you dangle there.

“Stop teasing me,” you whine.

Jake pushes into you with that same devasting slowness and then stops, his hips pressed tightly against yours. “I’m inside you, aren’t I?” he challenges with a raise of his eyebrow.

You don’t want to agree, what you want is to come. With great effort on your part you reluctantly nod your head, hoping your cooperation will get him to speed up or go harder. You’d literally anything to stop feeling like a butterfly with its wings pinned open and preserved.

“Then I ain’t teasin’.”

Those dimples are on full display, as he pulls out leisurely, letting your feel every bit of him, and then pounds into you.

You’re thankful when he takes pity on you and the rolling of his hips picks up. Harder, faster, deeper. His chest is flushed pink, making that golden chain stand out even more. A bead of sweat works its way down his neck, between his defined pecs, and travels along the contours of his sculpted body.

“Jesus, did you talk this much last time, Seresin?” Rooster asks, pulling his mouth off of you to watch as his own fingers and Hangman’s cock work together in sync between your thighs.

“And he said I was the mouthy one,” you all but pant out.

You tug on his curls trying to get him to put his mouth back on your breast, his spit cooling on your nipple making it pebble more than you thought possible. Instead, he just smirks down at you, and applies more pressure on your clit. Those nonsensical patterns transforming into tight devastating circles.

“I need… I need-”

“Such a bossy thing,” Jake mutters, “Only thing you need to be focusing on, darlin’, is falling apart for me.” The edge in his voice and the strain of his thighs as he thrusts into you the only things giving him away that he’s just as desperate as you are. “Rooster wants to watch you come. Isn’t that right, Bradshaw?”

“Sure do,” he agrees against the pounding pulse point on your throat. You don’t need a mirror to know the delicate skin is agitated from the coarse hairs of his mustache. The heat rolling off of him in waves is a contrast to the draft of the air conditioning hitting your body just right from the way he has you spread open over his hip. “I wanna see that pretty face as you come around his cock.”

Your fingers scramble to find something, anything to hold on to. Feeling like the seams of your skin, those silken threads of the last of your resolve, fray and snap. Rooster’s eyes holding yours as you start to unravel.

The sound of skin on skin fills your ears, followed by Hangman’s ragged breathing as you flutter and clench against him. “You feel so fucking good around me,” he moans, “Such a perfect pussy.”

Lightening hot pleasure races along your spine before shooting out along your muscles and tendons and ligaments, all the things keeping your body together. And your mind whites out as you come for them.

You feel Jake’s rhythm falter and stutter as he works to get himself closer of that place of perfect devastation, as you shutter and quake from the aftershock. He fucks into you harder chasing his own climax before emptying himself inside of you.

His cock buried so deep in you as you take his come. The two of you both breathing hard.

Bradley slips his wet fingers into your mouth and you lave the taste of yourself off of his skin almost in a daze as you wait for the gravity to settle into your weightless limbs. His lips are gentle as he trails soft kisses along your hairline, his hardness pressed against you a reminder there’s still more in store for you.

You whimper when Jake pulls out of you.

“Knew you’d look good like this,” he says running his hands along the tops of your thighs and watching as his come trickles out of you onto Bradley’s duvet.

Rooster takes his fingers from your mouth and nudges his nose against your heated cheek, “You still got more in you?”

He pulls away, those brown eyes searching yours.

“Want your cock,” you whisper and lean in for a kiss. He meets you with tenderness, while you meet him with heat. Licking into him the moment he parts his lips for you.

Hangman gives your thighs one last squeeze and lets go.

“Come ‘ere,” Rooster grunts as he shifts and pulls you on top of him, lining himself up with your dripping cunt. You don’t dare look away as he slowly feeds you the generous length of him, inch by inch.

You drape yourself across him and burry your face in that spot between his neck and shoulder at the stretch of him as he fills the space between your legs. Feeling the muscles of his arms wrapped around you. His wood smoke scent filling your nose. The salt of him on your tongue as you lick at the sweat that’s collected along the line of his collarbone.

It is dizzying being this surrounded by Bradley, he’s everywhere.

“How are you still so tight? You literally just took his cock,” he rasps.

You feel a hand brush back some of the hair from your face and you turn your head into the warm touch. When you open your eyes, you see Jake crouching there by the bed next to you, his green eyes filled with affection, “You doing a good job for Rooster too?”

“Yes,” you sigh as Bradley hums his agreement. The deep, languid roll of hips as he thrusts into you, working you open for his cock, is so good that it makes fingers dig into his biceps.

“Good girl,” he says, nipping at you ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Keep doing her like that, Rooster, her legs are startin’ to shake.”

And then he lands an open-handed slap to your ass that makes you clench and Rooster groan as he laughs lightly to himself, entirely too pleased.

It’s a masterpiece of teeth and tongues, moans and gasps, and dirty praise rumbled into ears. When that telltale tightness in your stomach starts, you begin rocking back against him desperately. Meeting him thrust for thrust. You’re so coiled in knots that not even the most seasoned sailor could untangle you.

You can feel your orgasm rising up to meet you. So close, so close.

And then choking down a sob as you’re pulled upright to a sitting position astride Bradley, with Hangman’s forearm banded around your waist and supported by his dewy chest.

“‘s too big,” you whimper.

“Ah, ah. There you go, you can take it,” Jake coaches into your ear as he encourages you to take more of Rooster’s cock. “You’re almost there. Just a little bit more.”

Bradley licks his lips as he watches you writhe and squirm above him until there’s no space between your bodies. His fingertips digging into your hipbones. The stretch of him making you ache in the best of ways, your eyes fluttering at the sensation of sinking impossibly further on him. Both hands braced on his chest, thumbs seeking the little patch of chest hair.

You lean your head back and are met with Jake’s mouth. His kiss filthy as his teeth graze against your full bottom lip and his tongue sweeps against yours.

There are no words for how full you feel, for how good you feel.

Bradley’s face and neck are flushed and his waves are a mess from your handiwork. And you’re struck again by just how handsome he is. You give him a roll of your hips, anticipating a thrust that doesn’t come. Your eyebrows pinch together and you try again to get him to meet you half way. Waiting, waiting, waiting for more.

“I want-”

“I know what you want,” Rooster croons as he cuts you off, sliding a hand up your pulled too taut body to palm at your breast. You whine when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and then tugs. “C’mon, want to see you ride me. That’s it, baby, use me to get yourself off.”

The wet, sticky sounds of your own arousal and Jake’s come are amplified in the quiet room as you fuck yourself on Bradley’s cock. The sweat is collecting behind your knees and along your hairline. You let your head lull back onto Jake’s shoulder, knowing he’ll keep you upright.

You want to be good for him. You want to be good for them.

Both men have been determined to wring every ounce of pleasure from your body and then asked for even more. The burn in your thighs so good as you rock and grind on the man beneath you, but you don’t know how much more you have left to give.

“Doing still alright, darlin’?”

You turn your head enough to mouth along Jake’s jawline and hope he takes it for the yes your tongue is too tired to say.

“Think our girl’s getting worn out,” Bradley says sympathetically, but is looking up at you with pride in his eyes.

“You’ve been doing so well for us. How about you let Rooster and I take care of you now, huh?”

“Please.” It sounds pitiful even in your own ears, but you can’t be bothered to care too much at the moment.

You whimper quietly as Jake’s warm, heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades and presses you back down.

Bradley wraps his arms around you holding you close against his sweat-slicked chest. The tears prickle in the corner of your eyes as you tuck your head back into his neck, knowing that the two men are more than capable to get you there again. That they’ll take care of you.

That you can just feel, that you can just be, that you can just take.

“Hold her open for me, Bradshaw.”

You feel Bradley’s hands slide around you, grabbing rough handfuls of your ass. You’re exposed in a different way you’ve been all night, under Jake’s sharp, keen eyes that you can’t see but feel on you all the same, as the other man pumps in and out of you.

“You should see how she’s dripping down you, Rooster. That cunt is coating you real good.”

“I don’t need to see it, when I can feel it,” he pants against your ear. You want to remind them that it’s not just only your arousal alone that’s making a sure to be shiny mess along the length of him, but it’s all you can do to clutch at Bradley’s waves as he keeps building you up.

Of all the things you were experiencing in that moment, it’s no surprise that you miss the subtle ghosting of Jake’s warm breath over that pleated part of you, but it’s the feeling of his wet tongue skimming around the rim of it that send you reeling.

“Fuck me,” Rooster moans, his arms tightening around you, “Whatever you just did, do it again. She liked it. Didn’t you, baby?” You babble out something unintelligible as you fist his hair, but your vigorous nod can’t be interpreted for anything other than your enthusiastic consent. “Could feel that you did, gotta give our girl what she likes. She deserves it after being so good for us.”

His voice huskier, rougher than you’ve ever heard it. That slight accent that only sometimes made an appearance, finally out in full force.

You let out a strangled cry when Hangman does it again, your toes curling at the new feeling. You’ve never taken two men like that before, but even the idea of it makes you lightheaded.

From there you lose yourself in the dueling sensations. At Bradley’s ruinous, deep thrusts. Of his perfect cock hitting you just right, targeting that spot that has you quaking. Of Hangman’s tricky tongue circling, circling. And his thick finger pressing.

Circling, circling, pressing.

Circling, circling, pressing. Until-

“Ah!”

You bite down on that pretty scar on Rooster’s shoulder, needing something to keep you from feeling like you were going to fly away. From feeling like you could explode into nothingness. It’s a different kind of fullness, one that steals your breath even as it gives you life.

“That’s it, nice and easy, darlin’.”

There’s nothing nice or easy about the two men working you. The push and pull of them so in tune with each other, so set on making you see stars one last time.

“I can feel you’re there. Want you to come on this cock,” Bradley grits out, as he thrusts into you, his hands spreading you wider for his benefit and Jake’s. The tendon on is throat standing out in a way that makes your mouth water. “Come on, come for us.”

When you come with a cry, body shaking and back arching with devastating pleasure. It’s an orgasm that gives as much as it and takes and takes and takes.

Rooster is swift to follow after you with a couple more powerful thrusts, as he spills himself inside of you with a low, satisfied groan. You spasm and quiver and convulse around him, milking him with every tremor that dances through your thoroughly spent body.

When you come to, the first thing you’re aware of is how perfectly warm you are pressed between two hard bodies. The next is the delicious ache between your thighs and the mess there, as you grin to yourself with your eyes closed. Luxuriating in the endorphin rush as it washes over you.

A calloused thumb strokes your cheek.

“There she is,” you hear Jake say.

Someone’s long fingers thread between your own, squeezing your hand.

“Jesus, fuck,” you hear Bradley pant next to you, “How was that even better than last time?”

“More practice?” you offer, finally opening your eyes.

Both men look a sweaty mess, their hair a riot and their cheeks still pink from the exertion. And you know you probably aren’t faring much better, but it’s the warm affection and the easy smiles on their faces that sets your heart a racing again.

It’s been a little over four years since you had first met the two of them in Pensacola during a training contingent for a recon mission.

You were about to call it a night at the Navy bar near the base, mentally cursing whoever signed off on sending you to the state in the middle of a heat wave, when a broad man in a Hawaiian shirt had slid up to you at the bar. It would have been comical on anyone with less muscles, but he also had the smile to pull it off. You didn’t quite know what to make of it at first when the clean-cut blonde, the one with a mega-watt grin and a toothpick gripped between his teeth, had set a drink in front of you with a wink.

There wasn’t any way of missing the tension radiating between them, but you weren’t about to get caught in the middle of their petty pissing contest. You knew a rivalry when you saw one. And they were pilots after all, you knew their type.

It wasn’t until you held that chilled glass up to your overheated neck, catching the way they both tracked that bead of condensation as it traveled down your throat and disappearing between your cleavage, that you thought things could get interesting.

And well, it had escalated quickly from there.

“I haven’t even been here seventy-two hours yet, and I’ve already heard about your fabled hook up twice,” you say with a giggle, leaning your forehead on Jake’s shoulder.

“Mm, I’ve heard that rumor too,” Rooster chuckles.

“Who knew the Navy had so many damn gossips,” Hangman laughs, “I swear to god, they talk more shit than the little old ladies in my grandma’s knitting circle.”

Bradley picks up your entwined hands and brings them to his mouth, kissing your fingertips with a fond look in his eyes, “So how long are you here for?”

“Well, speaking of rumors,” you say conspiratorially, “Have you heard the one about a certain Chief Warrant Officer Bernie Coleman and the opening on his new strategic team for a permanent member?” The teasing smirk growing on your face as the realization dawns on them.

You had been treating yourself to a celebratory drink at the finalized paperwork and impending transfer when Rooster had spotted you sitting there earlier when the whole night truly began.

“Huh,” Bradley says with a sly smile, “Now that sure is one interesting rumor. The person who lands that gig must be very smart. Sounds like that certain someone would be the right person to settle a bet. ”

“Mhm and probably very full of good ideas,” you can’t help but preen.

“What do you say, Rooster, best two out of three?” Jake asks, with a cheeky gleam in his eyes, “You up for a little tiebreaker, darlin?”

You look from one to the other with a grin.

“I’m all in.”

In the immortal words of the Spice Girls "spice up your life" 💃🏼 Thanks for reading!

Many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse and @laracrofted for their help!

This was written as part of @sushiwriterhere Threesomissance 2023 event!

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You can read more of my stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

3K notes · View notes

elizais · 9 months

Text

bf!chuuya would..

chuuya x fem!reader headcannons sweet stuff, and it won the poll ahsjajjwqiw

chuuya as your bf would..

-most definitely still be in the crush phase months after becoming official, still feeling like he is floating whenever you gently touch his shoulder.

-spoils you to death, everyone knows he is a luxurious man but he would give you every penny if you asked.

-puts you before everyone else, loving to brag about you to anyone who is nearby.

-use "doll", "babe", "love", "darling" religiously.

-loves that you can keep his temper at bay, subordinates always knew when he was just with you because your magic kept him kinder to them for a little bit longer.

-only lets you tease him about his height, you never go too far - only making ones he will laugh at too. expect a fair retaliation though.

-only let you see him truly upset, knowing you won't judge him for anything.

-tries to keep you away from work (if you don't work at the pm), but everyone that does work there knows about how much he adores you.

-loves little touches, pinky holding, hand/thigh squeezes for reassurance, brushing arms against each other..

-loves sleeping with your head on his chest or vice versa.

-lets you play with his hair all. the. time. lets you brush it like he is a doll, try out hairstyles, he steals your fancy shampoos..

-always talks it out, nobody goes to bed angry in your house. even if it takes all night to talk calmly with each other.

-loveeee you in heels. towering over him or not, he loves heels! if you like heels too, he gets you any and every pair of valentino heels.

- a protective type but not possessive. he likes to know where you are because of his line of work but is more than happy for you to be with your friends and that.

-personal chauffeur??

-if anyone else grabs his hat off his head, he would be furious but when it's you toying around with it on your head he can't help but laugh.

-speaking of the hat, he definitely has a photo of you as his lockscreen of you doing an impression of him. your hair is styled as he does with his hat on your head, you are holding an empty bottle of wine to your lips and pretending to drink it, wearing his coat on your shoulders. while you done it to make fun of him, he cherishes that photo.

-he adores dogs, so while your lives are both busy and dangerous you don't have any pets but he dreams of adopting a mutt to raise with you.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #port mafia #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #chuuya bsd #nakahara chuuya #nakahara chūya #chuya nakahara

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gyorouis · 2 months

Text

𐙚 HE GETS ME SO HIGH.

— he stands there, asking "would you accept kisses for a lemonade?"

genre: fluff, hint of angst (they're just oblivious), childhood friends to lovers trope

pairing: chf!beomgyu x chf!reader (afab)

warning: none

wordcount: 6.3k (what the hell)

now playing: beabadoobee — he gets me so high ୨ৎ

"give those shrimps to me," you say, slowly spooning the shrimps from beomgyu's plate. he nods, unfazed, and reaches over to take a sip from your lemonade. the cool drink contrasts with the warmth of the food, and he smirks at you, a silent understanding passing between you two.

you have been friends with beomgyu since what feels like an eternity. it all began when you were both still preschoolers. your family had just moved into a new house, and everyone was busy with the hustle and bustle of unpacking and arranging. you, being the only one without a task, decided to spend your time outside.

the sky was a brilliant shade of blue, with fluffy white clouds drifting lazily. you were lost in the joy of watching birds soar across the sky, their wings cutting through the air with graceful ease. you smiled to yourself, trying to count how many had flown past the tall, sturdy tree in your yard, its leaves rustling gently in the breeze.

suddenly, a sharp "psst!" broke your concentration. you looked around, searching for the source of the sound, and your eyes landed on a boy, likely your age. he was taller than you, with dark brown hair that framed his round, doe-like eyes. he wore a pink sleeveless hoodie that complemented his fair skin perfectly. his lips curled into a sheepish smile, revealing a hint of shyness and curiosity.

you furrow your brow, trying to ignore him. "i know you saw me. don’t you dare ignore me," he insists, his small hand resting on his waist, his gaze piercing.

"is that how you welcome your new neighbour?" you quip, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes.

"this is my first time having a neighbour. i have no friends," he admits softly.

to an outsider, your heated exchange might seem like an argument, but it's simply the distance between you that amplifies your voices. "you know you can come into our yard. stop shouting," you offer, a playful tease that elicits a wide grin from him. with that, he dashes towards you, his laughter echoing in the air.

“you’re my friend now.” he said, panting and holding out his hands for you to shake, what a peculiar way to befriend someone, you thought.

“are you desperate to have friends?” you said without accepting his hands. “no, it just so happen that the neighbor is empty, i have a few friends from the racing club where my dad always goes.” he said.

“you’re quite mouthful.” you said chuckling, “you’re quite mean and brat” he fires back, turning your sweet chuckles into unrestrained laughter.

“my mom is baking lemon squares, would you like some?” you said, inviting him inside your house.

that's how your friendship with beomgyu started. since then, you would always play in either of your houses' yards, often with the kitchen set you once cried to your mom to have because your classmate had it. you both spent countless afternoons pretending to cook gourmet meals, giggling as you mixed imaginary ingredients and served each other invisible dishes.

the yard was your playground and sanctuary. in the spring, the air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and you would run barefoot on the soft, green grass, playing tag until you were breathless with laughter. beomgyu would sometimes bring his toy cars, and you'd build elaborate tracks in the dirt, racing each other to see who had the fastest vehicle.

during the hot summer days, you'd set up a lemonade stand, hoping to make a few pennies from the neighbours. your makeshift booth, decorated with hand-drawn signs, was the source of endless joy and pride. beomgyu always managed to charm the customers with his infectious smile and cheerful demeanor, while you diligently squeezed lemons and counted the change.

in autumn, the fallen leaves became your treasure. you and beomgyu would take them into giant piles and take turns jumping into them, the crisp leaves crunching beneath your weight. sometimes, you'd pretend to be explorers in a foreign land, with the yard transforming into a vast, uncharted territory full of hidden wonders.

even in the cold winter months, your friendship didn't wane. bundled up in thick coats and scarves, you'd brave the chill to build snow forts and have epic snowball fights. when your fingers and toes grew numb, you'd retreat inside to warm up with hot cocoa, sitting by the fireplace and planning your next great adventure.

as you both grew older and entered grade school, your bond only grew stronger. you partnered up for school projects, sharing secrets and dreams during lunch breaks. beomgyu’s charm and kindness made him popular among your classmates, and it wasn't long before people started to take notice of him. his friendly nature drew others in, and you often found yourself surrounded by new friends because of him.

by middle school, beomgyu had become the unofficial leader of your group of friends. he had an effortless way of making everyone feel included, and his laughter was infectious. you continued to share everything with him – your worries, your dreams, and your plans for the future. it was during these years that you both discovered your interests and passions. you found a love for writing, crafting stories and poems with emotional and descriptive language, while beomgyu excelled in sports and music.

high school brought new challenges and adventures. beomgyu joined the school's soccer team and a band, quickly becoming a star player and a talented musician. his popularity soared, and it seemed like everyone had a crush on him. you often found yourself playing the role of a mediator, as classmates approached you to get closer to beomgyu. they would ask for his favorite snacks, his schedule, or even tips on how to talk to him. you didn't mind at all – perhaps, that’s what you thought.

your friendship remained unwavering despite the attention he received. beomgyu always made time for you, whether it was studying together for exams, attending school dances, or simply hanging out at your favorite café. you both supported each other's dreams and aspirations, cheering each other on through every success and failure.

as graduation approached, you both faced the daunting task of deciding your future paths. you applied to colleges with strong writing programs, while beomgyu auditioned for music schools and sports scholarships. the thought of possibly going to different schools was bittersweet, but you knew that your bond was strong enough to withstand the distance.

watching beomgyu have his growing popularity and the small crushes people had on him, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. he handled it all with grace and humility, never letting it change who he was at his core. you admired his ability to stay true to himself, even as everyone around him seemed to be fighting for his attention.

college acceptance letters arrived, and you were thrilled to be accepted into your top choice for its renowned writing program. beomgyu received multiple offers as well, and after much consideration, he chose a school with both a strong music department and a competitive soccer team. though you would be attending different colleges, you promised to stay in touch and visit each other whenever possible.

these were the times like this, both of you slumped on your apartment's worn, yet cozy couch, surrounded by the aroma of home-cooked meals. the table before you was a feast of your favorite shrimp pasta and beomgyu’s beloved carbonara, accompanied by your signature lemonade, its tangy sweetness a nostalgic reminder of simpler times.

"those times where we played cooking sure do help you become this good," beomgyu remarked, a playful grin on his face as he twirled his fork in the creamy pasta.

"it comes out naturally," you replied with a shrug, though secretly pleased by his compliment.

"how is it going with soobin, anyway?" he asked, referring to your blockmate who had become a close friend during your college years.

"we're good friends," you said, your voice a bit too casual as you avoided his teasing gaze.

"you're so boring. come on, tell me about it!" he persisted, eyes twinkling with curiosity.

you took a deep breath, your mind racing. how could you begin to tell him? what would you even say? that whenever you were with soobin, all you talked and blabbed about was him? that your lunchtime conversations with soobin often revolved around beomgyu, your little crush on him since third grade? since that summer you were selling your good old lemonade, and he cheekily asked if you accepted kisses as payment for a lemonade? no way, you wouldn't want to talk about it, not with him.

having soobin had been a relief because he was the only person who knew about your little crush on beomgyu.

"i'm telling the truth!" you lied, attempting to sound convincing.

"whatever, keep that romance in you then," he said, rolling his eyes and digging back into his food.

you returned your attention to the television. flipped was playing – a movie you had both watched countless times since high school. its familiar scenes unfolded on the screen, a comforting backdrop to your thoughts.

your eyes darted to your lap when beomgyu absentmindedly flopped his legs on top of yours, his weight warm and reassuring. beomgyu and his antics never failed to make your heart race like a marathon winner.

"you're so gross, get your legs off of me," you said, pushing his legs off to save yourself from a heart attack.

"don't act like we didn't shower together until second grade," he said, flicking your forehead with a mischievous smile.

you shot him a look, a deadly one, before turning your head to hide your flushed cheeks, which had turned a deep shade of tomato-red.

"you’re so easy to fluster," he teased, leaning back and stretching his arms above his head. "but seriously, i’m glad we still get to do this. college has been crazy, but hanging out with you feels like home."

"same here," you murmured, your heart swelling with a mix of fondness and unspoken longing.

the movie played on, and the room filled with a comfortable silence. you glanced at beomgyu, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the screen. he was still the same beomgyu you’d known since childhood, yet somehow different – more mature, more confident. you wondered if he ever felt the same way about you, if he ever thought about those summers spent selling lemonade or the countless afternoons playing pretend.

as the credits rolled, beomgyu stretched and yawned. "i should get going. early practice tomorrow," he said, getting up and grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

"yeah, don’t want to keep you," you replied, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

"hey," he said, turning to look at you with a soft smile. "thanks for dinner. it was really good, as always."

"no problem," you said, returning his smile.

he leaned in and gave you a quick hug, his arms warm and comforting around you. "see you soon?"

"definitely," you promised, your heart aching a little as you watched him leave.

after he left, you sat back down on the couch, staring at the empty bowls and the remnants of your meal. your thoughts drifted back to soobin and your countless conversations about beomgyu. you knew you couldn’t keep your feelings hidden forever, but for now, you were content with the way things were. beomgyu was your best friend, and that was enough.

at least, that’s what you told yourself.

a week passed without the sight of beomgyu, and you couldn't deny missing him for the past few days. you missed seeing his doe eyes twinkle whenever he looked at you, the way his hair fell on his forehead, and his small teases that got you flustered every time. despite not seeing beomgyu in person, you still got to talk to him through the phone, sharing late-night calls where you talked about everything from your daily routines to you talking about your frustrations with writing, to silly stories that happens to you. those calls were a lifeline, a way to keep the connection strong even with the distance. each conversation reminded you why everyone adored him – his kindness, his humor, the way he made you feel seen and heard.

"what do you think?" your attention snapped back to soobin when he waved his hand in front of you. "you’re thinking about him again," he teased, a knowing smile on his face.

"shut up," you muttered, rolling your eyes.

"what were you saying again?" you asked, trying to steer the conversation back.

"i was asking if you could come with me to this party," he said, showing you a picture of an invitation on his phone. it was a glossy card, elegantly designed with gold lettering. "taehyun's throwing it. you know, our blockmate? he’s friends with beomgyu too."

"didn't know they still do physical invitations these days," you said, examining the picture.

"i know, right? it's pretty old-school," soobin chuckled. "but it's supposed to be a big deal. lots of people from our department will be there. it'll be fun."

you considered his offer for a moment. a party could be a good distraction, a chance to clear your head and maybe even enjoy yourself. plus, it would be nice to spend some time with soobin outside of your usual routine.

"alright, i'll go with you," you agreed, smiling.

"great! it'll be fun, i promise," soobin said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "we'll meet at my place around 7?"

"sounds good," you nodded.

later that day, you decided to give beomgyu a call. you dialed his number, feeling a flutter of nerves as you waited for him to pick up.

"hey, you," his familiar voice came through the line, instantly soothing you.

"hey, beomgyu," you said, smiling. "so, there's this party at taehyun's place on friday. are you going?"

"taehyun's party? i heard about it," he replied, his tone regretful. "i don't think i can make it, though. things have been really hectic with the band and soccer practice. i'm swamped."

"oh," you said, unable to hide your disappointment. "that's too bad. it would have been nice to see you."

"i know," he said softly. "i miss you. but i'll make it up to you, i promise. we'll find some time to hang out soon."

"i'd like that," you replied, feeling a bit better. "take care of yourself, okay?"

"you too," he said. "have fun at the party."

the rest of the week flew by in a blur of classes and assignments. despite your best efforts, your thoughts often drifted back to beomgyu. you wondered what he was up to, if he missed you as much as you missed him. but you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the upcoming party.

when friday night arrived, you found yourself standing in front of your closet, debating what to wear. after much deliberation, you settled on a casual yet stylish outfit – a soft, oversized sweater paired with your favorite jeans and ankle boots. you wanted to look good, but not like you were trying too hard.

the party at taehyun's house was already in full swing by the time you arrived. the house was packed with people, the air filled with the hum of conversations and the beat of music. you stuck close to soobin, navigating through the crowd and making small talk with familiar faces.

"there's a drink station in the kitchen," soobin pointed out. "let's grab something."

you followed him into the kitchen, where a variety of drinks were laid out on the counter. as you poured yourself a soda, you couldn’t help but glance around, half-expecting to see beomgyu’s familiar face in the crowd.

"you okay?" soobin asked, handing you a cup.

"yeah, just... taking it all in," you said, forcing a smile.

"you'll have fun, i promise," he assured you, clinking his cup against yours.

as the night wore on, you found yourself relaxing more, even enjoying the party. you and soobin danced, laughed, and chatted with friends. it was a good distraction, a way to momentarily forget about the ache of missing beomgyu.

but as the evening drew to a close, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing. you stepped outside for some fresh air, leaning against the railing of the porch. the cool night air was a refreshing contrast to the lively atmosphere inside.

"mind if i join you?" soobin’s voice broke the silence.

"not at all," you replied, glancing at him as he leaned against the railing beside you.

"you’ve been a bit off tonight," he said gently. "is it because of beomgyu?"

you sighed, nodding. "i just... i miss him. it’s weird not having him around."

"i get it," soobin said. "but you know, he probably misses you just as much."

"maybe," you said, staring at the stars. "it’s just hard sometimes."

"hey," soobin nudged you lightly. "for what it’s worth, i think you’re handling it really well. and if you ever need to talk, i’m here."

"thanks, soobin," you said, smiling at him.

"anytime," he replied, his smile warm and reassuring.

as you stood there, the cool night air wrapping around you, you felt a bit better. the party had been a good distraction, and soobin's support meant a lot. you knew that no matter what happened, you had friends who cared about you.

and maybe, just maybe, you’d find a way to tell beomgyu how you really felt. but for now, you were content to take things one step at a time, surrounded by people who made your world a little brighter.

your mind was filled, and you didn't even realize you were drinking pretty heavily. just then, when you stood up to get another cup of drink and to find soobin, you realized you were drunk. your world was practically spinning now. "fuck," you muttered, gripping the edge of the counter to steady yourself.

you took a deep breath, trying to clear your head, but the room kept swaying. deciding it was best to find soobin and tell him you needed to go home, you carefully made your way through the crowded living room. each step felt like walking on a rocking boat, and you had to focus hard to keep from stumbling.

finally, you spotted soobin talking to some friends near the back of the house. you waved to get his attention, but your hand-eye coordination was off, and it came out as more of a flailing gesture.

"soobin!" you called out, your voice louder than you intended. he turned and immediately noticed your state, his smile fading into concern.

"hey, are you okay?" he asked, quickly making his way over to you.

"i think i've had too much to drink," you admitted, leaning heavily against him for support.

"let's get you some water and find a place for you to sit down," he said, guiding you to a quieter corner of the house. he handed you a bottle of water and watched as you took a few sips, the cool liquid helping to clear some of the fog in your mind.

"thanks, soobin," you said, your voice a bit steadier now.

"no problem," he replied, sitting down beside you. "do you want me to call you a ride home?"

you nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude. "yeah, that would be great."

as soobin pulled out his phone to arrange a ride, you leaned back against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment. the sounds of the party seemed distant now, a muffled background noise to your swirling thoughts.

"hey, is she okay?" a familiar voice broke through your haze, and you opened your eyes to see taehyun standing there, his expression worried.

"yeah, she just had a bit too much to drink," soobin explained. "i'm getting her a ride home."

"do you need any help?" taehyun offered, looking between the two of you.

"i think we're good, but thanks," soobin replied with a small smile.

just then, your phone buzzed with a text. you fumbled to pull it out of your pocket, squinting at the screen. it was from beomgyu.

["hey, i finished practice early. how's the party? missing you."]

you couldn't help but smile at his message, the warmth of his words cutting through the fog. you quickly typed a reply, your fingers clumsy on the screen.

["wish you were here. i might have had a bit too much to drink. soobin's getting me a ride home."]

almost immediately, your phone buzzed again. ["wait there. i'm coming to get you."]

you stared at the message, your heart skipping a beat. beomgyu was coming? despite his hectic schedule, he was dropping everything to come to your rescue. the thought filled you with a mix of relief and affection.

"beomgyu's on his way," you told soobin, feeling a bit more at ease.

"that's good," soobin said, patting your shoulder. "he'll take care of you."

you nodded, leaning back and letting your eyes drift shut again. it felt like only a few minutes had passed before you heard beomgyu's voice.

"where is she?" his tone was urgent, and you opened your eyes to see him scanning the room. when he spotted you, his expression softened with relief.

"i'm here," you called out weakly, lifting your hand.

beomgyu rushed over and knelt beside you, his eyes filled with concern. "are you okay?" he asked, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"i'm better now that you're here," you admitted, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. the combination of alcohol and emotions was overwhelming.

"let's get you home," he said gently, helping you to your feet. with one arm securely around your waist, he guided you out of the house and to his car.

the cool night air was a welcome relief as you stepped outside. beomgyu helped you into the passenger seat, making sure you were comfortable before getting in on the driver's side. as he started the car, he glanced over at you, his expression softening.

"you scared me," he admitted quietly. "i hate seeing you like this."

"i'm sorry," you mumbled, feeling a wave of guilt. "i didn't mean to ruin your night."

"you didn't ruin anything," he assured you, reaching over to squeeze your hand. "i'm just glad i could be here for you."

the drive home was quiet, the streetlights passing by in a blur as beomgyu drive through the late-night traffic. you leaned against the passenger window, feeling the cool glass against your cheek as you tried to gather your thoughts.

"you're always nice, not just to me but with everybody," you murmured, your voice soft and slurred from the alcohol. "no wonder everybody likes you."

beomgyu glanced at you with a fond smile, his eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road. "why? do youme like the way they do?" he teased gently, his tone playful yet sincere.

"maybe," you whispered, the words barely audible even to yourself. beomgyu turned to look at you, about to ask you to repeat yourself, but as he glanced over, he saw you already drifting off to sleep. your head had slumped against the car window, your breathing steady and calm.

"hey," he said softly, reaching over to gently adjust your head so it rested more comfortably against the headrest. he couldn't help but smile at the sight of you, peaceful and vulnerable in sleep. he drove the rest of the way in silence, stealing occasional glances at you, his heart warm with affection.

when he finally pulled up to your apartment building, beomgyu carefully unbuckled your seatbelt and gently lifted you into his arms. you stirred slightly, mumbling something unintelligible, but didn't wake. he carried you up to your apartment, his steps light and careful, not wanting to disturb your sleep.

inside, he laid you down on your bed, tucking a blanket around you with utmost tenderness. as he stood there, watching you sleep, he brushed a stray hair from your face, his fingertips lingering against your cheek.

as you drifted off to sleep, the last thing you felt was the gentle press of beomgyu's lips against your forehead, and you knew, deep down, that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

you woke up from the smell of bacon and eggs wafting into your nostrils, slowly stirring from sleep. who could possibly be in your kitchen right now?

curiosity piqued, you tiptoed out of your bedroom and crept toward the kitchen. there, you saw broad shoulders moving skillfully as someone cooked. leaning against the wall, you observed quietly. his hair was tousled from bed, and he hummed softly while his head bobbed to an unheard rhythm, completely unaware of your presence.

a smile tugged at your lips. it was a rare treat to see beomgyu like this—casual, domestic, and utterly charming. you couldn't help but wonder, would he be like this if you weren't just friends, but lovers? the thought sent a blush creeping up your cheeks, and you quickly turned away, rushing back to your room to wash your face.

"fuck," you muttered to yourself, the cool water helping to clear your mind. "fuck it."

you were supposed to just have a crush on him, a harmless infatuation. not this—where you found yourself imagining him as more than a friend, your heart racing at the mere thought.

you went to your kitchen again, this time more prepared—or so you told yourself. you tried to erase the lingering thoughts from your mind.

"you're here?" you began, catching beomgyu's attention. "oh, you're awake. i've prepared coffee, just help yourself," he stated casually.

"yes, sir," you replied with a small smile, feeling a flutter in your chest at his easy presence.

you thanked him for last night and talked about what happened at the party and how his practice went. you watched him as he excitedly recounted the events of the practice game and the band, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. you couldn't help but wonder if his eyes always sparkled like that, your heart tugging at the thought.

his lips, ever so slightly pouting when he talked about losing his favorite guitar pick, seemed particularly inviting today, drawing your attention. you noticed how they curved into a smile when he caught you staring.

"do i have something on my mouth?" he asked, his voice teasing, making you flinch slightly and look into his eyes. "y-yeah, you've got ketchup on your lower lip. it's gross," you lied, your cheeks heating up.

his smile grew wider, amused. how could he have ketchup on his lips when he didn't even like ketchup in the first place? it was a detail you, of all people, had memorized.

playing along, he pretended to wipe whatever imaginary ketchup was on his lips. "what were you saying again?" you asked, trying to regain your composure.

beomgyu stayed the whole day to spend it with you. you were busy working on your work-in-progress plate while he played games on your pc. the hum of the computer and the clicking of his mouse filled the room, blending with the soft rustle of paper as you sketched. "don't you have practice today?" you asked as you stretched, your back sore from sitting too long. he paused his game for a moment, glancing over at you. "we don't, why?" he replied, his voice casual but his eyes curious.

"nothing, just asking," you added, trying to sound nonchalant as you returned to your work.

he nodded and fished his phone out of the pocket of his hoodie, checking it briefly. 13 unread messages, 5 missed calls. he pursed his lips and put his phone in airplane mode, pursing his lips before and shaking his head.

"what are we having for lunch?" he asked, drawing your attention. when you didn't answer immediately, he looked at you, finding you deep in thought. your pen was on your lips, which you nibbled absentmindedly as your eyebrows furrowed in concentration. you muttered a few words under your breath, trying to fit them into your writing.

beomgyu completely shifted his focus to you, his elbows resting on your pc table as he watched you intently. he knew you had a talent for writing, especially poems. memories of you helping him with his literature assignments in high school flashed in his mind. you always earned him straight As, and he kept all those assignments in his closet, casually reading them whenever he had time.

he was the one who pushed you to pursue writing. you were supposed to take another course because your parents said it wasn't practical. he remembered the day you cried to him about it, your tears glistening like stars in your eyes. without you knowing, he talked to your parents, telling them how much you loved writing and how he loved seeing your eyes light up whenever you shared your ideas with him. it was the same way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about you with his blockmate friend, kai.

he had no idea when or why it started, but he remembered one day when kai and he were discussing poems to get ideas for writing songs. his eyes lit up, and he began bragging about you and your writing. he was always like this, whether it was from pure adoration of his best friend or something deeper, he paid it no mind.

he remembered the smallest things about you and would insert your name into every conversation he had with kai. it sometimes made kai laugh at how oblivious beomgyu was about his feelings toward you. "you like her, don't you?" kai said to him once when beomgyu suddenly mentioned you while they were talking about their favorite online game. when they talked about valorant, his eyes lit up as he started talking about how you loved playing it. "you think?" he casually asked kai, as if liking you didn't bother him.

since then, he became more cautious of your reactions to him, trying to read you. he watched as you got flustered easily with his antics and remarks. at first, he thought it was just a natural occurrence whenever he teased you.

but he thought otherwise when he tried to put his hand on your chin once when you asked if you had something in your eye. it was hard for him—really hard—to focus on your eyes without suddenly wanting to brush his lips against yours. he witnessed how your cheeks changed from pale to bright pink, almost tomato-like.

that's when he realized that he wasn't the only one who got flustered at being this close. no one would get flustered with their friend's face this close, right? right. no one. he convinced himself.

"hey," you repeated, snapping beomgyu out of his thoughts. "hmm?" he responded, his brows lifting, eyes meeting yours with a gentle curiosity.

"i said, would you like to just order or should i cook?" you asked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. he paused, considering, before his face broke into that familiar, heartwarming grin. "hmm, pizza?" your eyes sparkled with excitement. "omg! yes, i love your brain so much," you exclaimed, the joy in your voice making beomgyu's smile widen. you hurried toward him, phone in hand, not thinking as you plopped down into his lap. his hands moved instinctively, wrapping around your waist steadying you. "hey, take it easy..." he chuckled, the sound of his laughter vibrating through you.

still unaware of how closely you were sitting, you held up your phone to show him the food options. "what would you like?" you asked eagerly, eyes bright with anticipation. "what are you having?" he asked, his gaze not on the phone but on your face. he loved watching you get excited over the simplest things. his eyes drifted down to his arms, wrapped snugly around you, and a soft blush spread across his cheeks at the thought of holding you like this every day.

"i'll have whatever you're having," beomgyu said, his voice tender "i'm having garlic shrimp," you said, looking at him. "hmm... it could work," he replied, surprising you. "really? you want to try seafood?" you asked, amused. "oh come on, don't act like i haven't eaten seafood at least once," he said, rolling his eyes and earning a sweet chuckle from you.

"how about drinks?" you asked again. "i miss your lemonade," he whispered, his head resting lightly against your back, his arms tightening around your waist as if he never wanted to let go.

"i still have a few lemons in the fridge. i'll make us some," you said. it was then you realized you were sitting in his lap. you shifted to look at beomgyu, who was now snuggling closer. you couldn't help but smile at him, feeling the urge to snuggle into him as well.

"are you sleepy?" you asked softly. he shook his head and looked up at you, his breath catching as he realized how close your faces were, your noses nearly touching. "...so close," you said, wide-eyed, trying to signal him to move back, but he didn't budge. "...hmm, so close," he whispered, his hot breath making you lose your own.

slowly, ever so slowly, beomgyu leaned in, his face mere inches from yours. his eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but all he found was your sparkling gaze, filled with a longing that mirrored his own. he took your gaze as consent, inching even closer. just as your lips were about to meet, the apartment doorbell rang. you jumped up from his lap, your heart racing. "that must be the food," you said, a slight tremor in your voice.

"i-i'll get it," you said, heading for your room when beomgyu's hand gently clasped yours. you turned back to him, his touch grounding you. "hey, don't panic. let me get it. you go make the lemonade," he said, his fingers softly brushing against your cheek.

his touch usually calmed you, but this time it sent your heart into overdrive. you shook your head, trying to steady the rush of emotions. "o-okay," you said, retreating to the kitchen, your mind swirling with the almost-kiss and to your fast heartbeat that you can literally hear.

lunch with beomgyu bordered on awkwardness. after that almost-kiss, neither of you had uttered a word, and now, as you ate, the silence stretched between you. a movie played in the background, but neither of you focused on the television. instead, both of you were lost in your own thoughts, replaying what had happened in the very room, thinking about what could have happened if the food hadn't arrived. beomgyu wanted to curse the food. no, he wanted to curse himself for being too slow to even brush his lips against yours.

you glanced at beomgyu, his expression thoughtful and distant. his fork pushed around the shrimp on his plate, not really eating. the tension in the air was palpable, making you squirm in your seat. you took a sip of your lemonade, trying to gather your thoughts, but your mind kept drifting back to the feel of his arms around you, the way his breath had mingled with yours.

"beomgyu," you finally said, breaking the silence. your voice sounded tentative even to your own ears. he looked up, eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"yeah?" his voice was soft, almost cautious.

"about earlier..." you began, trailing off as you searched for the right words. his eyes darkened slightly, and he leaned forward, giving you his full attention.

"i'm sorry," he said suddenly, surprising you. "i shouldn't have... i mean, i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." his words tumbled out, and you could see the genuine concern in his eyes.

"no, it's not that," you said quickly, shaking your head. "it's just... i wasn't uncomfortable. i was just surprised, that's all." you bit your lip, trying to find the courage to say what you really felt. "beomgyu, i..."

"you what?" he prompted gently, his gaze unwavering.

"i've liked you for a long time," you blurted out, your cheeks burning. "since we were kids, really. and i guess i didn't realize just how much until recently." there, you said it. the truth was out in the open, and you felt both relieved and terrified.

he stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. then, slowly, a smile spread across his face. "i've felt the same way for so long, but i was too scared to say anything."

you looked at him, your heart swelling with emotion. "really?"

"really," he confirmed, his big hands found their way to your warm cheeks like it was fit to caress it "and about earlier... i'm glad the food came when it did. because now, we can do this properly." he leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours.

"would you still accept kisses for a lemonade?" beomgyu asked, a wide grin on his lips.

you felt your heart skip a beat, the playful words from your childhood carrying so much weight now. "only if you're the customer," you answered, your voice barely above a whisper.

he smiled, his gaze softening as he leaned closer. "i am," he murmured.

as the two of you came closer, it felt like the bridge of uncertainty had collapsed beneath you, leaving behind the years of pining and hesitation. in that moment, as your lips met in a gentle, tender kiss, it was as if everything had fallen into place. the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled longing dissolved, replaced by a warmth that spread from your intertwined hands to the depths of your hearts. each touch, each whispered confession, sealed the promise of something new and beautiful—something that had been quietly blossoming between you for years.

gyo's note: sacrificing my sleep to finish this is the best decision i've made so far >< your feedback will mean a lot for me and if you could, please reblog or i will cry. i hope you liked it if you made it to this part. xoxo!

#gyozies space ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡#txt fluff #txt fanfic #txt imagines #txt post #txt x reader #txt #tubatu #beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu angst #choi beomgyu #choi beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu fluff #choi beomgyu angst #beomgyu x y/n #choi beomgyu x you

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elioslover · 1 year

Text

Masks On (Harry Styles x reader x smut).

Premise: Harry finally visits a sex club and what are the chances, you just so happen to be doing the same thing.

Word Count: 8k+ / Other Writing

Warnings: Smut from start to finish. P in V, Unprotected sex, literally all the sex things, just pure FILTH. Afab 2nd person (minimal OC description).

Also, shout-out to @justmeinatree for the encouragement and @caramello-styles for being such a sweetheart!

🍒

Harry feels the energy shift as soon as he steps out from the mass of thick, velvet curtain that worked to shield the utter filth that lay just beyond. The club- as referred to, looks more like a converted condo, with walls dyed with deep hues, ultraviolet lights instead of harsh bulbs, and purple and red bounce across the room- the floors, the ceilings.

Though the room is busy, everyone is scattered, and it feels spacious enough. Harry observes the array of beds and sofa’s instead of tables and chairs; people are going at it, moans mixing in with the deep bass emitted from nearby speakers.

Patrons- dressed in only bowties and Grecian inspired masks, carrying trays of beverages and sex toys with a formality that seemed foolish for a play like this. The pretty penny Harry had paid to be here was clearly being put to good use.

The entire thing screamed ‘filthy rich fun’, which, even for Harry, seemed almost awestriking; it was the type of elite secrecy one would never dream of, and if he had any doubt about joining this evening, it was erased the minute a waiter appeared before him, offering up a glass of whisky he wasn’t even sure he had ordered.

To be fair, after such an effort to simply enter this place, plenty of hoops to jump through and many questions to be answered and confirmed, it only made sense that the owners would ensure it was more than worth it.

Harry put the crystal to his lips, downing its contents in an anxious bid for comfortability. Instead, it burned at his chest and sent a long shiver down his spine; he shuddered, his skin sprinkled with goosebumps.

Ridding himself of his blazer, white tank top, leather loafers, and other personal belongings when he arrived, assured they would stay safe in his absence, Harry now stands in only a pair of black briefs. They cling to his thighs, pinching at the meaty expanse of his soft skin, diffing into and trapping a few of the hairs growing at the base of his pelvis.

But Harry could be fully nude for all he cares- the platinum, Phantom of the Opera mask that covers the top half of his face and stops at the bridge of his nose has him feeling invincible and fucking frisky. He feels like the god he impersonates, ready to delve into the mass of bodies stroking and loving on one another, his cock twitching against the restricting cotton as confirmation.

The beds are king-sized, holding space for at least four, and a few are evidently occupied by many more than that. Sheer material is draped across the ceilings like a canopy, creating a cosy and inviting atmosphere. Harry heads over to an empty velvet green chaise lounge, plopping down lazily, his legs spread out, thighs splayed, his one arm resting on the armchair, his other palm laying out across his lower stomach.

He turns his attention to the nearest bed, only a meter away, and begins watching as a throuple of two males and a female are switching positions. The girl lays on her stomach, flat against the bed, ass up, as the first man crawls up, spreads her ass cheeks apart and rubs his cock against her once before thrusting himself up into her. They reach a smooth rhythm, skin slapping as the second man lines up behind them, wrapping his arm around the torse of the first man; with a loud moan, the first man bucks forward, only moaning louder as the second man falls into position and starts fucking into him.

Harry hasn’t noticed the way his hand has lowered, palming himself through his briefs, his body shifting to get more comfortable. On the same bed, another couple goes at it, a woman vigorously bouncing atop the cock of a man donned in a lion mask.

In the midst of it all, bodies thrusting and shifting- you are resting sweetly, sitting atop your folded legs, disguised by a black, sequined silver mask, stopping above the nose, your eyes so sharp that Harry spots them immediately, hooked on the way the fluorescent lights flicker the reflection of filth he has succumbed to. His first thought is about who you are, his second is why you’re currently here, and the third is the only one that really matters; how the hell can he get his hands on you?

Dressed in only your underwear, you have had your gaze set on Harry from the moment the curtains had pulled back and revealed him in all of his glory. He was a mass of chocolate curls and tattoos decorating a chiselled and muscular figure that had you wishing you could get your hands on.

For a while, he had seemed nervous, and that only had your curiosity blowing through the roof, your body aching to wrap around any part of him up for grabs. As he made his way over, your heart was in your throat, attention completely thrown from the couple you had intended to participate with just moments prior. They were going at it regardless, bumping up against you, but your focus would be unwavering, your mouth watering at the view of his thighs, thick and spread out just for you.

He seems to be looking your way- maybe just observing the other couples, but something tells you by the way his body shifts, his eyes hidden but holding your own gaze, makes you feel like he might want you just as you want him.

A woman, her hair long and auburn, hidden behind a green dragon mask, drops onto the bed beside you, her knees softly hitting the mattress as she whispers suggestively into the shell of your ear. Cheeks flushed, your gaze remains on Harry, with the way he managed to stir such wanting in you, all by just sitting across the room.

His intrigue seems to pique, waiting to see what your plan was- were you going to entertain the woman next to you? Her cool fingers tickling their way up your spine, your body an eruption of goosebumps.

And you wish he would just come over or that you had the confidence to greet him yourself, but he seems comfortable and unwavering, leaving you to turn your attention back to something actually tangible; the woman currently pressing her lips to the nape of your neck.

Shifting your body to greet her own, you sit up on your knees and boldly wrap your hands like a chain around the back of her neck. She leans into your touch, anticipating your next move, a soft gasp escaping her lips as yours pressed on firmly, tongue licking into her own.

Your eyes have fluttered shut, your body soothed into the sultry kisses sucking at your bottom lip, but your thoughts wander over to the man on the couch, hoping to some god that he might be watching, that he might be regretting the choice to stay put.

Lips parting for deep inhalation, the woman’s hands are soft and static as they trail the soft mounds of your skin, and when your eyes finally open in the hopeful search of the man, you are more than surprised to find him much closer now, standing at the end of the bed.

His gaze is certainly set on your own, and you want to feel bashful at the circumstances, but the erotic stimulation happening all around you and the way Harry is looking at you hungrily, his muscles flexing involuntarily, only dampens your panties further, has your thighs clenching tighter.

He must notice because his pupils are blown, and he is crawling over now, slowly stalking out his prey, happily trapped in the arms of an auburn woman. He is more than welcome, though, your back pressing into the woman's chest, her lips still tickling at your throat, and when he comes to a halt at the base of your knees, you feel zero embarrassment as they part as a welcoming gift, offering him anything he desires.

“Well, hello pretty girl.” He greets, his cock throbbing as your chest raises and you take a sharp inhale, blinking at him in a way that has him feeling like a sinner- and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Hi handsome.” You respond, doing your best to keep your voice from cracking, almost completely distracted by the look of arousal in his eyes that seems to be increasing at just the sound of your voice, like a siren song only luring him further into the ocean in which you resided.

Harry can hardly stop himself from sighing out, from snatching you up and fucking you into submission, instead taking his time in luring you closer, his cock pleased at the ease with which you opened up for him, mind a mess of where to start.

He taps your thigh as an instruction, satisfaction shivering at his spine as you comply, spreading your legs, bum pressed flat to the mattress. Harry can't stop himself from wrapping his palms around your ankles, tugging you forward with enough force to have you exhaling a squeak, the woman’s grip tightening around your chest.

He looks at you like you are supper, his hands trailing their way up your calves, stroking slowly; as he reaches your thighs, he gives them a selfish squeeze, crawling his way over until he is almost face-to-face with the white lace of your panties.

His breath is cool as it fans over the heat of your lower abdomen, legs threatening to quake, and his grip only tightens, his stern stare never wavering, watching your every breath, the way your chest rises and falls in anticipation.

With the gentlest of kisses to your panty-clad crotch, you cannot withhold the deep sigh that slips past your lips, a keen whine whistling its way over to him, his stomach clenching, blood rushing to his cock. Harry’s tongue slips past his plump lips, licking a firm strip up your damp lace, his mouth watering in synch.

His left hand finds a firm home on your hip, helping to keep you pinned between the bed and his touch; his right-hand trails tauntingly along your sternum, fingers dancing into the dip of your belly button, playing your hipbones and pelvis like a harp before a sudden gush of coolness catches you off guard and his thumb hooking into the slit of your panties, tugging them aside in one firm go.

Your eyes widen with lust, unable to look anywhere but at the holy sight below you; the woman cradling your torso presses her lips wherever space omits, travelling in search of the mounds of your breasts, and your entirety is begging to turn to mush in the arms of pleasure as Harry leans forward and gives your pussy the gentlest of kisses, your eyes fluttering shut as he presses another, then another, his tongue joining in to lap at you, dipping into you.

He holds you in place with ease- where the hell would you rather be right now? And as the auburn woman latches her teeth around your pebbled nipple, your leg’s part even further- if possible- prompting Harry to release you from his prior grip, to hold you at the waist, his body pressed into the mattress, his cock flush and swollen from even the slightest of friction.

He can't stop from thrusting forward as a soft mewl slips past the gaps in your teeth, tongue pressing into you, gliding up your slit, flicking at your clit before his free hand cannot help but join the mix, massaging at your inner thigh, teasing at you as you buck your hips up in anticipation.

It's difficult to keep from sighing out in pleasure, but you try your best, harshly capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, tugging harder as Harry continues licking into you, flattening his tongue, flicking it against your clit, dipping into your entrance.

He has died and gone to heaven; his chin is coated in you, glistening under the neon lights, and with one hand still stroking and squeezing at your inner thigh, Harry uses the other to hook into the bands of your panties, hastily guiding them down the hills and valleys of your body and you assist, ass raising from the mattress, balancing on one leg as he slides the material along and off of your skin.

Discarded and dismissed, you are bare and spread for him, a sight Harry will be committing to memory, and he looks at you hungrily- you’re ready to be ravished.

Your pussy is practically dripping, and Harry’s hand must be possessed because it reaches out, and his finger glides through your slit, quickly dampening. The sigh you release is almost sinister, and Harry has his face buried between your thighs in an instant.

With his tongue licking at you, the almost forgotten auburn woman is still trailing kisses along your neck, her fingers tweaking and squeezing at the skin of your breasts. You are officially a mess of pleasure, ready to beg for more- anything- all of him.

It’s like he reads your mind as his fingers start to tease at your pussy, rubbing back and forth, his tongue focusing on your clit, swirling circles, his middle finger slipping past your entrance with such ease that Harry mutters, “fuck me” and lets it slide all the way in, curling upward. With such positive reception from yours truly, he keeps at it, all of his focus dedicated to pleasing you.

With the way his one finger becomes two, pumping into you with such vigour, you are writhing beneath him, thighs threatening to clamp around his head like earmuffs, blocked by his one hand keeping you put.

Your head starts to lull back into the auburn woman’s lap, but Harry is quick to correct this, pulling out his fingers completely, sticky and wet, his mouth changing from loving on you to scolding,

“Uh, uh.” He taunts, his brows furrowed, “Eyes on me, princess.”

You do everything in your power to comply, staring at him with all your might as he gets back to work, a satisfied smile still lingering on his lips as his tongue laps at your pussy, his fingers fucking back into you, curling, picking up the pace.

His fingers are in complete rhythm with his tongue- they are on a mission. And by the sounds currently escaping your lips, chest rising and falling needily, Harry is certainly succeeding.

But each moment that passes is becoming agonizing for him, desperate to substitute his fingers for his cock, currently aching to bury itself inside you.

Harry tries to pacify his cock by grinding up against the mattress, but this only has him moaning against your pussy, which in turn has you doing the same, your hands fisting the sheets.

He can no longer hold on, flattening his tongue to give you one last good licking before he removes his fingers and then himself, leaving you in absolute awe and confusion- a spark of panic flashing across your features.

Harry doesn’t want to startle you, but you can't stop the yelp that escapes you as his hands wrap around your ankles, and with one tug, you are before him, his face aligned with your torso.

He stands, holding out his hand to assist you in doing the same. You do, and once your feet are safely planted on the floor, Harry’s hands are kneading at your waist and hips. He permits you a moment to stabilise before his hands find the back of your thighs, and he hoists you up into your arms, legs wrapping around his waist.

Pussy bare and pressed against his torso, the five-step walk over to the sofa feels endless, so when he finally sits, safely cradling your back, you lower with him, coming to a rest atop his cool thighs, knowing he will be slick with wet by the time you’re finished with him.

Arms wrapped loosely across his shoulders, your fingers play with the loose curls at the base of his neck, and you lean, the outline of your mask bumping up against his own as you finally retrieve what you’ve been after all along, pressing your lips to his, tongue taking out all of your prior frustrations as it tangles with his own, scrapes along his teeth, traps and tugs his bottom lip until he is left begging for breath, lips plump and freshly-stung.

Going in for more, your palms find the sides of his face, sandwiching him between lustrous kisses, your chest pressing to his own, a whine bubbling at your throat when his grip tightens, holding you hostage and creating a gap just small enough for his hands to slip from their place on your back and to cup your breasts, squeezing and palming them as his tongue continues to lap at your own.

With the feeling of your nipples perking up so nicely beneath his thumbs, Harry cannot resist the urge to start trailing sloppy kisses along the nape of your neck, your clavicle, his open mouth leaving a trail as it makes its way down your chest, his tongue licking at the valley of your breasts before his lips finally catch your nipple, flicking at it, your body arching back desperately, pleading for more.

With a harsh nip, his tongue soothes your swollen skin, his hands squeezing at the mounds of your breasts, and your body has a mind of its own now, jutting up against him, your pussy sad to be met with only the friction of his briefs, desperate to grind your wetness across his cock, feel him slipping between your folds.

After the third time, your body glides down into contact with his own, a frustrated sigh slipping past your lips; Harry seems to catch on and woefully unlatches his mouth from your skin, but with more than just happiness, he shifts beneath you- and you also shift to allow him better access- his fingers hooking into the bands of his briefs, tugging them down in one swift motion to settle around his mid-thighs.

His cock springs up, swollen with relief and flush with freedom. Your gaze never wavers, hyper-focused on how pretty the man sitting beneath yours truly is- all of him is just too good to be true at this point.

You want to spend eternity, or at least a moment, marvelling and taking him all in, but he is closer than ever, and your pussy is clenching at just the sight of him- practically screeching to have him buried deep inside you.

With that, you reach out and give him one mandatory stroke, to soothe both him and yourself, and by the way his mouth parts, his eyes hooded, body jolting and then relaxing back into your touch, you sling your leg over his lap to straddle him, his face level with your chest, his hands instinctively coming to a rest on the pillows of your hips.

Your arms become a noodle around his neck like in preparation for dancing the salsa, your hips rocking forward without hesitation, pussy skating along the length of his shaft, leaving him slick with just one stroke.

Harry doesn’t even try to stop the string of mutters he sings out into the crevasse of your breasts, breath fanning chills all along your skin just as your hips buck again, sliding up against him, squeaking out as the tip of his cock rubs up against your clit.

You push on into an agonisingly slow rhythm, dragging out each stroke until Harry is so frustrated that he works extra hard to avoid rutting up into you- oddly satisfied letting you take the lead- so his mouth begins leaving sloppy kisses along your chest, your shoulders, the creases of your neck. And whilst the idea of holding onto this sense of control was something you really wanted to indulge in, you cannot stop your body from picking up speed, ever so slightly upping the rhythm.

Harry is struggling to keep himself from turning the two of you over and fucking you into the sofa cushions, taking out his agitation by unexpectedly spitting on your chest, and both of your gazes drop to watch as the dribble of spit travels like a delicate stream down the valley of your breasts, meandering towards your bellybutton.

You rut up against him with force now, pupils swelled and hungry. At the last minute, Harry commands his pelvis not to thrust, taking a section of skin on your breast between his front teeth, nipping and sucking at it until it stings, giving you one last tug before pulling back, his tongue slipping out to softly lap at the blooming bruise. Tiny and speckled with red and purple, this mark will serve as a reminder of the scandalous events of this evening.

More so, this mark is the last straw, your lips angrily finding his own, tongues arguing for domination- Harry’s succumbs the second one of your hands reaches down between your laps, grabbing at his cock and guiding him into you without a second thought.

You take him in with ease, but he is a stretch the further you slide down on him, your belly feeling full as your body finally comes to a sitting on his cock. Harry’s head has tilted back, his eyes fluttering open and shut.

He wants to thrust up, he wants to watch your breasts and body bounce about atop of his cock, needs to see the way your skin jiggles and stretches for him, the way your face crinkles up in pleasure and satisfaction… but Harry lets you do anything you want, lets himself be at your mercy.

And fuck, you make the idea of losing control feel really good, raising your body until only his tip remains inside of you, threatening to leave him out in the cold, but at the last moment, you grind back down, letting him fill you up gluttonously, easily finding a groove, your backside slapping against his thighs, skin-to-skin creating the beat of a drum, and with each smack, you only want to go faster, harder, unable to resist the need to tease and drag things out.

Harry is a mess of moans, only making you feel like you are being cheered on during a marathon, encouraging you to up your stamina and reach the finish line in record time. His hands are all over you, tugging you closer, one hand wrapping tighter around your waist, guiding you up and down his cock, desperate to hear you whine louder, to let others know how good it felt to be riding him. And you want everyone to know, too; you want them to know that they could all leave, and you would be more than happy to just let Harry spend the rest of the evening fucking you into a semi-permanent coma.

Harry shifts, spreading his legs to offer you a new angle, ready to drool as a dragged-out sigh slips out from deep within you, and he knows he’s just hit a good spot.

So, as any good boy would, Harry bucks up into you again and again, motivated by each moan, putting his all into making you sing for him, your hand digging into his biceps, then his back, down his torso, squeezing at his thighs as your stomach starts to clench, heart rate picking up and when you start to feel lightheaded, you welcome the wave of euphoria threatening to wash over- you hear nothing but the soft praises Harry mutters for your pleasure, your body grinding down on his pelvis desperately chasing your high, whining out as his hand spreads your cheeks, guiding you through a long-anticipated orgasm.

Coming down, your head slumps against his damp shoulder, cheek pressing into his warm, soft skin. You can hear his heartbeat; it’s as fast as your own- if not faster; his breaths are scattered, and Harry wonders what will happen next.

He wants to revel in the moment but is hit with disappointment as you slowly and carefully guide him out of you, and he wants to hiss out at the cruel loss of contact.

Your leg swings over and off of his lap, standing tall and gazing down at him with a curious brow furrow that has Harry ready to question his entire existence, but when your arm extends out to him, offering to wrap his hand in your own, Harry feels butterflies beating at his belly, and he accepts in an instant, ridding himself of his briefs, tossing them aside with little to no regard before grabbing your hand, feeling fuzzy at the visual of how small it looks cradled in his own.

Trailing behind you, willing to let you drag him just about anywhere, it seems you have targeted a bed sitting empty in a quaint corner of the room.

But your ass is bouncing with each step you take, and with gravity offering him such a gracious gift, Harry's hand reaches out with the need to grab, settling with a soft slap to your left cheek, a chuckle slipping past his lips as you let out a little whimper of surprise, body jolting forward, thighs jiggling for his absolute pleasure, and all thoughts of the bed are forgotten as Harry pushes your bodies into the nearest pillars. The look in your eyes adjusts from surprise to arousal at the newfound feeling of your body being backed up into the icy marble, turning into a tornado as Harry's simmering skin keeps you mounted like a shiny trophy.

Harry thinks he's really got you now, your skin so silky, your muscles contracting against his own, keening into his hold, lashes batting up at him like he holds the keys to the garden of Eden; with softness, he presses a breathy kiss to your own parted lips, and now that he has you so perfect and patient, he hasn't the faintest clue where to start.

It would be polite to give him a moment to gather his thoughts, perhaps plot his next move, but you know exactly what you want- no, need- next, and with Harry's head so preoccupied with the idea of you that his hold isn't strong enough to stop you from slipping out from his trap, turning around, your palms pressing flat to your chest as you gift him a gentle, but firm push, his back smacking into the same marble you had just escaped.

Harry feels awestruck, unsure what to think, but his cock is certainly pleased, throbbing at the unfamiliar shift in dynamic, desperate to see what you might do next. And when his eyes, swollen with lust, focus on your own, there is a glimmer of certainty that has him almost keeling over; the need to get on his knees and beg for you is killing him.

But it seems that you are the one who will be on your knees as you keep one palm against his chest, unsure of whether he's willing to stay put, and your body drops to the floor, knees happily greeting the tiles.

With your left hand still holding him in place and your right hand coming to a rest on his waist, fingers squeezing into his fleshy cheeks, Harry's head lulls black in bliss, throat bobbing, both of his hands casting a shadow over your own, wrapping around your wrists like pretty bracelets.

Leaning forward ever so sweetly, your lips pucker and place a polite kiss on the tip of his cock. Harry's hips buck forward without his consent, and your hand leaves his chest, gliding lazily down his torso until it comes to rest on his shaft.

Thoughts of how perfectly he fits between your fingers are blurring your vision, but at the sound of Harry pathetically hissing from above, your grip tightens, body shuffling closer, his own hand settling like a scarf around the back of your neck. His hand stays statuesque, unsure of pushing your boundaries and frightened of catching your hair in one of his many rings. But when you reassuringly nuzzle your crown into his palm, Harry finally relaxes, his fingers- still carefully- slip into and massage the hair at the base of your neck.

You’ve got him right where you want him, and there’s no time to waste as you close the last of any remaining space, bowing forward and closing in like at communion, mouth opening, ready for the catholic wafer but instead closing your lips over the tip of his cock, your tongue darting out to swirl at his head and loving the way he tries to resist bucking into you, stop himself from hitting the back of your throat.

Just the idea has you dripping, fulfilling the desire to take him further in your mouth, your free hand slowly pumping his cock, holding him in place as you suck him, slowly taking in as much as you can manage before slowly pulling back, letting your tongue trail along his shaft in your wake.

Right as Harry begins to fear that you might release and leave him high and dry, you swallow him again, bobbing and creating a rhythm, a small sliver of spit slipping past your lips as you take him as far as your mouth will permit, tongue lapping at him, your hand pumping the base of him as Harry huffs and puffs above you.

And when you can’t help but glance up at him from beneath hooded lashes, the way Harry cusses out and rolls his head back against the pillar is enough to have you picking up the pace, swallowing him with vigour, desperately trying to fit as much of him possible into the hollows of your cheeks.

Slowly, your head begins to bob, taking all of his cock in before pulling back, then again, and again, your hand still pumping him, spit gliding along his shaft and soaking your fingers.

You release his cock from your mouth, still gliding your hand back and forth, pumping him and peering up at him with doe-like eyes.

“Fuck.” Harry whines, the back of his head bumping against the pillar, “Y’gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

With a mischievous grin, you place a gentle but menacing kiss on the tip of his cock before flattening your tongue and licking his shaft from base to tip before taking all of him in your mouth once more, creating the perfect rhythm, your other hand leaving his thigh and cupping around his balls, massaging him, head grooving up and down his cock. Harry is a complete mess, his muscles flexing with each suck and release.

You guide his cock to the hollow of your left cheek, brushing him against your mouth before ever-so-softly gliding his head along your bottom teeth and rubbing him against your right cheek. He is still moaning above you, and when you suddenly tilt forward and take him so deep that his cock brushes the back of your throat, Harry is cussing out, his hand tightening around the base of your neck.

You lean your head back into his palm as a form of encouragement, and Harry thinks you may be the most perfect creature of planet Earth itself. He cautiously begins guiding your head, testing the waters as he becomes a guide for his cock, sliding into your mouth.

Happy to oblige, you try to remain as still as possible, your pussy throbbing each time he brushes against your throat, and when you almost gag, Harry has officially died and gone to heaven. His pace quickens, forcefully- but so carefully- bucking into you, loving how soft and plump your lips are, how well you take him- how deep.

The thought of his cum dripping down your chin has him in utter shambles, and that is not how he wants this evening to go- yet. So, with one last thrust and grunt, he ruefully removes himself, hissing at the rush of cool air that greets his tip and almost crying at the sight of the string of spit connecting from your lips and his cock.

Using the back of your hand to dismiss the spit, you peer up at him curiously, rather proud of your work but still hoping to have more of him.

Harry guides your head as a gesture, hissing at the rush of air that greets the tip of his cock, and this only causes his impulses to increase- so, as soon as you have found your feet and are looking up at him with blown-out pupils and puffy pink lips, Harry finally reclaims control, his hands wrapping you up and spinning you around in one swift motion and you are now facing the pillar, your palms pressing flat against the cool surface.

His hands find your hips, thumbs pressing into your fleshy skin and, on instinct, your back arches, ass desperate to press up against him. Harry releases his right hand from your hip, wrapping it around his stiff shaft and guiding it towards your entrance. Ass up, spine curved, your breasts press into the icy pillar, your body scooting up against the pelvis, and when the head of his cock glides along your pussy, just stopping short of your entrance, you moan out enthusiastically.

Harry gives you one last tease, his tip slipping into you before pulling back out, but before you have the opportunity to whine out, he thrusts into you, and instead, you arch out for him even more, sighing out, breasts squishing into the pillar.

He guides his cock in and out, painfully persevering, taking his damn time, but after a third deep and forceful thrust, you shuffle back into him impatiently, and Harry wants to chuckle aloud at your lack of patience now that he has you pressed up against him.

But your neediness is too tantalising to resist; Harry can’t stop his hips from bucking up into you, almost drooling at the hum of satisfaction you reward him with as he thrusts again, this time harder, his arm reaching around to rest his palm on your stomach, keeping you pinned as he proceeds to fuck into you.

Harry keeps going, huffing in sync with each thrust, his stomach clenching as you mewl against him, your palms pressing into the pillar and holding on for dear life. His hand slides down from your stomach to the back of your right thigh, raising it until your knee bumps up against the marble, and when he’s certain you plan on keeping it there, he releases your leg and proceeds to pound into you, his hand snaking around until it finds your pussy, fingers gliding along your wetness, seeking out louder moans, desperate whines.

And you are- unable to hold yourself back any longer, overcome with the electric current coursing through you with each thrust, each time his thumb brushes against your clit. You are chasing another orgasm, pushing your palms against the pillar in an attempt to get closer to him.

Harry kindly obliges, pressing his chest into your back, pulling you flush against his damp and flexed torso as he keeps at it, bucking up into you with all of his willpower, hands grabbing at you, adamant to have you as near as possible.

Right as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge for a second time in just minutes, Harry interrupts by pulling out and wrapping you up in his arms and hastily turning you around to face him. Concern flashes across his features as your back bumps up against the pillar, but when you only whine out, your left leg lifting up, calf wrapping around his waist, Harry guides his cock back into you, bucking up with commitment and determination to have you come unravelled against him once more.

And you are unravelling, chemistry at play as your body becomes a mix of ecstasy and euphoria. You are grabbing at every part of him, never wavering for too long, tugging at his hair, squeezing at his biceps, pressing your pelvis up against his own. Harry is doing the same, feeding off of your needy whines, unsaid pleas for him to keep going, and when you can’t help but turn them into verbal pleas, asking him so sweetly to fuck you “just like that”, he is in an absolute state,

“Yeah?” He confirms- only for the sake of hearing you speak up again,

“Yeah.” You stutter out, nails digging into the nape of his neck, scraping along his shoulder.

Harry is enamoured, you’re being such a good girl for him, and he wants to reward you for being so. But he also wants to be a little testy and has the urge to see how much nicer you’re willing to be for him, so he deems it necessary to hold out on you a tad longer.

He wraps his arm around the middle of your back, pressing you into him, and he bows his head and leans in as close to your ear as possible, his warm breath fanning over the nook of your neck and clavicle, ensuring you hear him loud and clear,

“Ask me nicely.”

Your head snaps up, looking at him with incredulity, but too desperate to do anything other than give him what he wants. One of your hands finds his torso, palms trailing along his chest as your other hand tightens around his neck in physical protest, which is the last thing that would ever slip past your lips. Trying your best to give him your politest plea, your mouth plump and puckered, mousey eyes flickering playfully up at him,

“Pretty please.”

And that’s all Harry needs, thrusting into you with repayment, revelling in the way your body accepts his reward so enthusiastically. He picks up the pace, pounding into you and making certain that you are more than welcome to come undone all over him,

“Such a good girl for me.”

You’re nodding at him desperately, body crumbling with each praise he is granting you, and when his palm slips down between your bodies, landing on your pussy and lazily swirling loops atop your clit, you are a shaking mess- in a frenzy and falling over the edge, coming all over his cock, softly chanting, “yes, yes.”

“So, so good.” He reminds you, holding onto you, keeping you secure and satisfied. He can feel the familiar stirring in his stomach, his cock twitching and tempted to come all over you.

But there’s no way he’s done with you, and he cannot fathom finishing now.

Your bucking has slowed, head lulling into the crook of his neck, trying to steady your breathing, and instead of giving in to an impending orgasm, Harry pats your bum firmly, wrapping an arm around your thigh, encouraging you to jump up into his arms.

He is still fully inside you and doesn’t plan on changing that, effortlessly guiding you up into his arms, one of his hands still on your backside, the other cradling your back. With great care, Harry starts to walk, staying slow and peering over his shoulder to make sure he’s going in the right direction.

Thankfully, the pillar was already the halfway point to the bed you had targeted earlier, and with your lips lazily trailing kisses along his torso, your nails digging into his back, Harry was overjoyed when his feet bumped into the base of the bed.

Impressively, he bows forward- your bodies still bound- his knees denting the mattress, lowering your bodies onto the bed until your back is pressed into the sheets and Harry is hovering over you, balancing on his forearms, his forehead brushing against your own.

“Ready to go again, princess?” His cool breath fans across your features, and you are nodding as if your life depends on it, your pelvis bucking up against him.

Harry’s brows furrow in amusement, his head bowing, lips brushing up against the shell of your ear, “Use your words, lovely.”

“Fuck.” You huff out, your right leg tightening around his waist, one of your hands digging into his bicep and the other tugs at his hair, “Please.” And just so he really gets the message, you add, “I want you.”

“Want me to what?” He drawls, tongue tickling your neck as one of his hands massages your breast.

“Fuck me.” Your reply is emotionless, stern and impatient, “Want you to fuck me.”

“Sassy little one, aren’t you?” Harry chuckles, squeezing your thigh endearingly.

You roll your eyes as if he hasn’t just stated the obvious, lifting your pelvis up to rub against him. His pupils are blown, and you want him inside of you- now.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” you ponder, nails dragging along his shoulder, “Or do I need to find someone else?” there is nobody alive that you could want more than him; he should know this from the way you are so eager to please him, but the mere suggestion has Harry thrusting into you mercilessly.

You whine out in both stupor and ecstasy, your back arching off of the bed, your breasts pressing into his chest. With one of his arms still holding him in place, Harry’s free hand comes up to cradle your face, your foreheads slick with sweat and sticking together.

His hands are about as big as your head, and that alone contributes to the next sigh you release, bucking up into him, meeting his thrusts in the middle, your pelvises slapping into one another.

Harry marvels at the way your bodies seem to so easily find a rhythm each time like you were made for him, and he for you. His thrusts are deep and with intention, stretching your pussy with satisfaction.

“Christ.” He huffs in astonishment, “Y’ feel so fuckin’ good.”

You can only moan out in agreement, at a complete loss for words. The only thing you feel is satisfaction sparking throughout your wholeness, and the only other thing you can think about is how badly you wish you knew his name- hoping to call it out to him as he pounds into you, desperate to reward him for doing such a good job.

Harry can't remember ever feeling so engaged in fucking someone- was there a time? Nothing before or after this moment matters; he could now die a happy man. You feel so warm and worked-up, pressed into him, grabbing at any part of him available for the taking.

He wants to let you, doesn’t mind if you spend hours or even days exploring him, poking and prodding his limbs and skin for reactions, having him like putty in your hands- all yours.

“More.” You huff out when it seems that Harry is getting caught up in his thoughts, and he thrusts into you so generously that your head lulls back to greet the mattress.

But now you are too far away for Harry’s liking; he needs to see those pretty eyes and pretty flushed cheeks, needs to see how good of a job he’s doing at pleasing you. His hand cradles the back of your neck, guiding your head back up, his lips waiting to latch onto your own.

Breathy kisses become open-mouthed ones. Harry’s tongue is dancing all along your mouth, biting on your lip and sucking on your tongue. Still, in a battle of kisses, Harry’s hand sweeps along your face and his pointer finger slips into your mouth. You suck on him like you were born solely for this purpose, and it’s Harry’s turn to stop his head from rolling back.

He keeps on at it, licking into your mouth while his cock rams into you relentlessly, each thrust accompanied by skin slapping, deep moans, hums of satisfaction and a stirring in your chest that only increases as Harry bends your leg and pins it to your chest, fucking into you from an angle that feels so good that you begin slipping away into a realm of pure pleasure.

“Like that?” Harry pants out, each thrust more purposeful than the last.

“Just like that.” You nod vigorously with gratefulness.

“Good girl.” He praises with a sloppy kiss, “Look so good like this.”

Harry keeps thrusting, and it’s not long before the look on your face starts morphing with frustrated delight, your eyes threatening to squeeze shut. But you don’t want to look away, instead glancing between your grooving bodies, in awe of the sight of his cock coated with all of you, pumping in and out so gracefully.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He is kissing your neck, tongue wet and trailing along your skin.

And that is all you need to guide you back into another orgasm, your hips raised off of the bed and grinding up against his pelvis in a circular motion, hands holding onto him for dear life.

Harry groans, almost growls out, pushing into you, trying to pull you closer than physically possible, “Just like that, sweetheart.” You are definitely a sucker for his praises, desperate for more, and he obliges, “So good for me.”

With a surprising twist, Harry is forced to confront his impending orgasm as you pose a rather prolonged request, “Want you to cum for me.”

He wants to panic, the thought of this being over is simply heinous, but you only chuckle at the obvious distress beginning to warp his features and reassure him, “I still have plenty in store for you.” And for good measure, you add, “Unless you can’t… keep up.”

Harry knows you’re only taunting him for the fun of it, but the suggestion is obscene, and he seeks to prove you wrong. You are still grinding up against him, whimpering at the sensitivity, nevertheless needy for more, so he picks up the pace, ramming into you with everything he has to offer, his arm bending further into the bed to get closer, and your arms wrap around him to assist, tugging him flush against you, teeth nipping at his neck.

“Gonna let me swallow you, pretty boy?” You blink up at him innocently, “Wanna taste you so badly.”

His thrusts are getting sloppier, slower and more determined. Now that the offer of an orgasm is on the table, lying beneath him, so pretty and so tasty, Harry can’t resist pushing into you harder, deeper, grunting and huffing along, skin shivering at the feel of your nails tickling at his torso.

And when you tilt your head and aim your teeth for his ear, nipping his earlobe only to soothe it with the flick of your tongue, you ask one more time, “Pretty please.”

“Fuck. Fuck.” Is all Harry can muster in between a mess of moans, struggling to keep his weight from coming down on you, his free hand wrapping around your waist to hold you still, his cock wailing for release.

And he gets exactly what he’s been searching for, thrusting into you once more, treasuring it as he pulls out, stroking at his cock as the two of you shuffle around and you are quickly on your knees, mouth spread wide, tongue flat and pushing past your lips.

Harry doesn’t think he has ever seen something- someone- so beautiful, and he doesn’t stop thinking this as he starts to cum, spilling onto your tongue, his cock throbbing at the sight of you swallowing him so kindly, at the glistening of your swollen lips, the bobbing of your throat.

You wear your satisfaction with pride, and for the first time, you wonder if Harry actually can keep up. He hadn’t said so, in words, at least. But he is still close and starts edging closer, desperate to have his hands back on you. He gets what he wants, and you shuffle closer, following his gaze as it shifts to the nearest patron, using his free hand to gesture for their attention.

Before you get the chance to get too confused, the patron steps closer, and you can now clearly see the contents of his silver platter. Staring up at you is an array of toys, small and large, feathered or leather or even metal. You don’t even need to glance over at Harry to tell him you are definitely game, instead reaching out with an item already in mind.

Harry watches as you select your weapon of choice, turning back to him with satisfaction and a cheeky smile, the chosen toy on display is just begging to be played with, and it seems that both of you are ready to oblige.

🍒

Forgive me for I am a sinner and I feel zero regrets. Hell can have me because I am DONE. I hope you guys enjoy this one! It's been a while since I've blessed the children with smut and I hope I have succeeded lmao. - Emmy. xo 💞

1K notes · View notes

threezzyo · 7 months

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໒‧₊˚ your little secret ∘︴fushiguro t.

∾you were always a good girl, as a governor's daughter, but little did anyone know... it's only natural to have a crush on your bodyguard. 6'1", the biggest muscles you've ever seen, scars begging to be licked. months of seducing him leads to something you wanted, something secret between the two of you. daddy doesn't have to know that his daughter is hooking up with her bodyguard behind the scenes.

∾older!bodyguard! toji fushiguro x fem!brat!reader. modern au. word count- 3.4k ∾NSFW! MDNI! age gap, (17 years) reader is a senior in high school (19, early birthday). dark-ish content! brat taming. no use of y/n. toji is a bit harsh... kinda 'used' as a toy. (mentions of using as a sleeve) usage of brat, slut, minx, good girl (for reader) and daddy, oldie, mister (for toji). promiscuous reader. finger sucking. car sex. smoking. oral (m recieving) riding! pussyjob kind of. slight exhibitionism (in a parking lot where literally anyone can see them......) biting. lots of teasing lorddd. just filthy, depraved, NASTYY smut.

∾indi's notes: i am sorry for being so iffy with posting and i will also stick to a theme now lol 😜 divider creds to @/cafekitsune

you were nineteen and hopelessly in love with your 36 year old bodyguard.

you had a student council meeting today, and was the last one to leave. toji fushiguro, your bodyguard (more like chauffeur) was waiting against the brick wall of your fancy pants school, cigarette in hand. he seemed to be texting someone, his mood irate.

“oh, y’er finally here.” he says in that rough voice you absolutely love. "took you long enough, brat.”

he pretends not to notice your skirt hitched up with your ass practically hanging out, or the two unbuttoned buttons on your thin white blouse that doesn’t do much to hide the lacy black bra you decided to wear.

it became a routine, before he picked you up, you’d unbutton your blouse a tiny bit and hike up your pleated skirt in the girls bathroom. maybe slather on some lip tint.

“i’m not a brat. and i told you i’d come out late.” you retort, skipping down the parking lot.

“unlock the car, oldie!” you yell, already reaching the expensive car he drives you around in. it’s yours, the porsche 911 carrera cabriolet, but why not let the handsome man drive it for you?

“tch.” he mumbles to himself, unlocking the car. "what a minx."

you were already nice and comfortable in the passenger seat when he got there, curled up on the fancy leather, your skirt riding up to your mid thighs. you were scrolling through whatever social media was popular, your headphones plugged into your ears.

what a typical high school girl.

he knows it’s wrong. he’s nearly twice your age, and you just turned nineteen, just a baby. and just because you’re the governors daughter doesn’t mean you were all prissy and proper, or sweet and innocent, you were quite the opposite.

even if your father paid a pretty penny to keep you out of trouble, a little extra cash from you was enough to keep him quiet. a man does what he has to do.

and unfortunately, your hedonistic lifestyle was gonna get your sweet father in trouble- and even worse, toji’s job at risk if he didn’t keep you under control.

“brat.” he leans over and snatches your headphones from the wire.

“toji!” you exclaim, irritated. “give them back, oldie!”

he rolls his eyes, throwing them in the backseat. “get them later. now shut y’er trap and listen to me.”

you grumble, falling back onto the seat. "i'm listening."

he takes a breath. "you know the election coming up, right?"

you furrow your brows. toji doesn't seem to be the political type. "yeah. papa's running for re-election."

his voice is low. "you need to keep a low profile. your father can't have anything tarnishing his reputation. especially his brazen brat. so, imma need you to follow my rules." his hand grips the steering wheel as he parks in an empty business lot.

"hey! i am not a brat!" you ripostes.

"oi. if your dad goes down, so do you, princess. i'd listen to me if i were you." he says, leaning in closer.

you scoff, crossing your arms. "fine. what?"

by crossing your arms, you slightly push up your lace clad bosom, easily seen through the sheer material of your white blouse.

his eyes flicker down.

like you didn't notice.

he rolls his eyes, looking back into the empty concrete lot. "y'er not going to go out for any party. y'er definitely not talking to any stranger. or any boys, for that matter. and you gonna have to start wearing something more..."

you grin. "more what?"

"more prudish." he grits, his eyes blazen. "can't have you prancin' around like that."

despite his tone, there's a hint of arousal in his voice, and he can feel the blood rushing right where he didn't want it to be. he clears his throat and tries again, "just follow those rules while i'm around, okay? it will make things easier for y'er daddy."

you roll your eyes, pulling your skirt down a bit and buttoning your blouse again. “just send me to a damn convent, then.”

toji grits his teeth at the girl's defiance. why does she have to be such a brat? and why did his dick twitch at the sight of her fixing her clothes? "don't be so stupid, girl. i'm just looking out for your safety, and if you don't cooperate, there will be consequences."

“consequences? like what?” you ask, your eyes wide and curious.

"like... being punished," he murmurs, barely audible. "if you disobey me or disrespect me in any way, i won't hesitate to discipline you."

you didn't realize how close toji had gotten to you, feeling his minty tobacco breath hit the side of your face.

there was an opening. and you took it.

"i wouldn't mind being punished.” you say with a sultry smile, giggling.

fuck.

she's right there, forbidden fruit, so very tempting.

he really shouldn’t, but he did.

"you wouldn't?" he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. "well, you better be prepared for anything then." he grins.

he swiftly unbuckled your seatbelt. "get in the backseat. you wanna act like a slut, i'll treat you like one."

you're pushed into the back of your car, toji following you. without warning, he pulls you into his lap, so that you're straddling him. "toji!" you squeal, eyes wide open as you drink in the lecherous look in his eyes.

"toji-" you're abruptly cut off by his palm.

"didn't tell you to talk, now, did i?" his shit-eating grin was so infuriating, but also so enchanting. "you gotta listen to me, sweet girl. i don't want a single word out that damn mouth."

you narrow your eyes, but comply anyways.

"good girl." he smirks, sticking two fingers in your mouth. "suck."

you looked absolutely bewildered. “to-“

“suck.”

he sticks his two fingers in your mouth, going down your throat and causing you to gag.

that look in his eyes, it was so lewd. it just made you more turned on.

your tongue swirls around his digits. you look like you’re pouting by how your bottom lip sticks out, lips latched on his fingers.

he could hear your sinfully wet sounds as you suck on his fingers, soft whines escaping your lips.

he slides his fingers out of your mouth, a little wet pop! sound.

“do the same with my cock.” he demands, pushing you to the floor of the car.

you’re on your knees, silently thanking the gods for this opportunity. a true blessing in disguise.

“gladly, toji.” you grin, your head resting on his knee. your fingers ghost over the tent in his grey sweatpants, eyes never leaving his.

he looks like a mess, his pants practically bursting at the seams.

“i don’t have all day, sweetheart.” he warns, pulling at your hair. “no time for y’er dilly dallying.”

you sigh, wanting to tease him more. he spreads his legs a bit further, and you pull down his sweatpants, before palming the bulge in his boxers.

“damn, daddy.” you giggle, tracing the wet spot. “all of this for me?”

“jesus, girl, you can’t even follow orders?” he groans, grabbing at your wrists and forcefully makes you pull down his boxers. his dick sprung up, nearly hitting your nose. angry, veiny, girthy. the others you've hooked up with pales in comparison to the older man.

you've never been nervous. it was big, too big. "toji, that.. that's not gonna fit." you mumble meekly, staring at it.

"fuck, girl, i know you've taken dick before. don't tell me you're tappin' out so early." he leers. "use your hands if it's too much." he gets comfortable in the leather seat, yanking you closer to the tower he calls his dick.

"daddy. you're so mean." you whine, your breath hitting his tip. "its so hot." he isn't having your shit. he just grips your hair tighter, forcing your mouth open with his other hand. he only pushes your head down so that your lips clamp on his tip.

"urgh- to-" the wind is nearly knocked out of you as he shoves his fat dick further down your throat. it's so messy, tears prick your eyes and your saliva mixed with his pre-cum trickles down his cock, dripping down his balls. now was the absolute worse time to have a gag reflex, stomach heaving as you struggle to open your jaw to fit all of him.

"ahf, to-.." your moans are muffled by his cock, whimpers and whines reaching his ears as you find the energy to bob your head up and down.

"fuuck. good girl." his grip on your hair loosens, allowing you to catch your breath as your mouth unlatches from his dick.

"shit, oldie, what the fuck?!" you whine, coughing into your school blazer.

"just giving ya a break." he's kinda nice at times, wiping away your smeared mascara. "but i'm not nice all the time. you're sucking me off, girl."

you shoot him a glare. "just.. don't shove it directly down my throat."

he chuckles, caressing your cheek. "hurry on, sweet girl."

you whimper, but you abide grudgingly. your sloppy mouth takes him so well, he lets out a low groan of satisfaction at the way your teary eyes make eye contact with him.

"fuck, yes, sweetheart." his calloused hands guide your head up and down as the slick collects and drips down his base. "such a good fucking girl, yes, mmh.." he's merely using you as a cocksleeve now, your tongue swirling around his tip. your nails make half moon indents on his muscular thighs, your staggered breaths hitting his trimmed pubes. your obscene sounds play like music to the older man, your teary, coy eyes glassy as he fucks your throat.

you lick the vein on underside of his cock, bobbing your head up and down, giving yourself a break by also licking the skin on his balls.

using your nimble fingers, you toy with the base of his cock.

“ah, to-ji, please…!” you croak, as his hips piston once more into your awaiting mouth, cum brimming in the back of your throat. you have no choice but to swallow.

the way your teary countenance and cum-dripping lips look to him is delectable. he laughs, throwing his head back as he comfortingly pulls your hair back.

“good girl.” he grins as he sees you wipe the cum off your lips. “you’re getting better by the second.” his expression was so pestiferous- he enjoyed seeing you cough, he enjoyed how you cleared your throat since it was so hoarse. he liked seeing you fix your messy lip gloss, liked seeing you sniffle as you rest your temple on his knee, looking up at him like a darling little kitten. begging for more.

you had never felt so needy before. blowjobs were something you just gave to get a feel for how big a guy was. and if it wasn't to your standards, you left disappointed but he at least got something out of it.

"sweet girl." his fingers toyed with your hair, as if to apologize and comfort you for the rough treatment.

"toji." you whimper, bottom lip sticking out. "please.. i want it so badly."

"ask nicely." he demands, stroking a strand away from your face.

"...please can you fuck me?" you repeat.

"again. use my name."

you groan. he's really making you work for it. "fuck. fuck me, mister, please!" you shift uncomfortably, finally sitting back up on the seat. "toji, pleasee." you whine, straddling his lap again, hovering over his semi-hard cock, while kissing his cheek. "need you so badly."

he chuckles, hands sliding to grip your hips, letting you kiss down his neck. "ah, little minx. can't say no to such a sweet request, can i now?" he drawls, calloused hands sliding down your skirt to squeeze the meat of your ass.

"ah... 'es, toji.." you murmur, kissing his lips. it was your first with him. his lips were chapped in contrast to yours. you tasted like your berry lip oil and his cum at the same time, and he tasted like cigarettes. your head was tilted, your manicure digging into his shoulder as you ravished his lips.

"you taste good, sweetheart." he purrs, guiding you as he maneuvers your thong off of your body. "i'll be taking this, by the way." he whispers, placing a kiss on your neck, stuffing your panties into the pocket of his grey sweatpants.

"t-toji!" you peep, eyes wide in bewilderment. "g-give them back-"

"nah." he sits you down on his lap completely, the base of his now rock hard cock teasing your aching, sopping slit. "ride me, girl. wanna see you try."

your face was even more flustered, if that was even possible. "whatever you say, daddy." you feign your confidence, adjusting your position.

he slides off your white blouse, unlatching your bra. "pretty little tits. wonder who else saw these, hmm?" he teases, tongue teasing your peaks.

"ah- toji! fuck! n...not so sudden!" you instinctively arch your back, nails sinking into his chest covered by his compression shirt. he simply wraps his arms around your waist even tighter, virtually feasting on your perky breasts. "toji! fuck, not there..!" you squeak, noticing the salacious string of of love bites dissipated on your neck, collarbone, and under breasts.

"mm.. nah. i like marking up my girl." he mutters, taking in your nipple in between his teeth.

"ow!" you yelp, tugging on his hair instinctively. "that hurt."

"oh, 'm sorry, baby. won't happen again." his sleazy grin says otherwise.

"toji, ah... need more." you whimper, rocking your hips against his cock, wetting the base with your arousal. "want you in me so bad."

his eyes were dark hearing your pleas, his fingers gripping the meat of your ass. "damn, nasty girl, begging for it? might just give you what you want if you promise to be good."

"please, daddy." you groan, lifting your hips up to hover over his dick.

"so impatient..." he sighs, pressing a butterfly kiss to the back of your ear. "go ahead."

you perk up at his allowance, gently swirling the tip around your dripping arousal, flicking your clit with it. "ah.. fuck!" you cry in excitement, sinking onto his cock, so fast, and you didn't even do that much foreplay to be this wet.

"shit, y’er such a slut." toji groans, feeling you engulf him, you feel amazing. "juust like that, baby, good girl." he presses a wet kiss to your nipple. "ride me, i want to find out how quickly you can cum.”

"t-toji, shit." you croak, feeling the slightly uncomfortable stretch. "wait, please, one second..."

"poor baby." he croons in your ear, stroking your hair softly as you bury your head in his chest, trying to adjust. "too big for you?"

"mhm." your sweet voice comes out muffled, relishing his scent. "can we wait?" you mumble. “let me get used to you?”

he barks. “this ain’t for your comfort, darling. you need ta be taught a lesson here.” his eyes flash with a dangerous spark. “y’er lucky i like you a lil’ bit, letting you ride me and all.”

you whimper, feeling more relaxed after slowly rocking your hips. “ngh- it’s so deep, daddy-“ you groan, finally finding the strength to bounce on his dick. “shittt.” you cry, feebly moving faster to chase your high.

“such a good little slut, hm?” toji chuckles, kneading your ass. “tight pussy for such a loose girl. doin’ daddy so well."

“fuck, fuck, yes!!” you cry. “ah.. ngh- daddy, so good, mmh..”

your mind was hazy, focused on riding him with all the determination you got. you lifted your hips and then sank down on him again, moaning his name over and over again. "t-too good, daddy...!" you whine, chasing your high with all your might, legs cramping.

you felt toji's hands twitch at the side of your hips, granting you some leeway by meeting your thrusts halfway, legs spreading a bit further apart. god, how could he have resisted your temptations for so long? he was so infatuated with the way you cried out his name, kohl smeared around your eyes. the lewd cherry on top was the way your tits bounced in his face, as he fucked you senseless.

"harder, daddy, please...!" you claw at his shoulders, nearly ripping the slutty compression shirt.

and harder he went, his hips slamming into your ass, feeling the slick from your wet cunt stain the expensive leather. you felt the car lurch forward. he made the car bounce over and over again, every time he pounded into your perfect pussy.

"you like it, baby?" he asks you, lips latched to your breasts. "dirty girl- hah- likes my cock rough?"

"yes, yes, -ahh- dont stop, please!" your back arches like cat, relieving your leg cramp by your impending orgasm. the bastard made it so much better worse by thumbing your swollen clit, your legs freezing, rendering you helpless.

"you're so sexy like this." he chuckles, seeing you're letting him throw you around like a doll. "taking me like such a good girl, seemed you learned your lesson, hm?" toji pinches your nipple with his other hand, slowing down when you spray all over his thighs with a scream of his name, soaking his grey sweatpants. "fuck, oh my god. " you cry, your orgasm lasting a lifetime, clenching onto him. he relished in the obscene squelch, toji's coil in his stomach was gonna snap soon. the sound of your moans fills the small space of the car, and toji can feel the vibrations of your pleasure echoing through the metal frame.

"daddy-" you choke, "cum in me. p-lease." you whimper, desperate for him, all of him.

"dirty, dirty girl." he sneers, roughly grabbing at your waist to hit into you deeper. "want to be a mom at 19? slut." he groans, when you pick up the slack, slamming your ass down.

"mhh- 'm on the pill, just- ah! please..!" you gasp, when you feel him thrust once more, a harsh smack on your ass ringing.

"take- it." he grunts, feeling his vision blur as he empties his load into your awaiting, perfect pussy. you feel so much of it, so much it's trailing down your thighs.

"ah..! toji." you whisper, eyes wide.

"don't give me that look, you wanted it." he snaps, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. "good girl." he adds, his tone slightly softer.

you don't say anything in return, opting to melt in his arms, feeling his cock soften inside you. "mmm."

he presses a kiss to your temple, "clean yourself up, brat."

you whine. "why am i back to brat?"

he rolls his eyes. "jesus fucking christ. clean up, princess. i need a smoke." he pulls out reluctantly, shamelessly grinning when he sees his cum drip down your thighs. you let him go, lending him a jacket to hide the wet spot you made on his pants.

he's standing outside, leaning on the dashboard as he's texting someone- your father, probably- taking a puff of his cigarette.

you dress again, fixing your skirt and retrieving your bra. you get out of the car, quiet footsteps approaching him, hugging him.

toji is startled when you suddenly appear beside him, wrapping your arms around his waist and looking up at him with that sickly sweet pout. he can feel her breath tickling his neck, and he takes another drag from his cigarette before looking down at you with a mixture of surprise and amusement. "princess," he says dryly, "what are you doing?"

he takes your silence as a hint to return your affection.

he puts an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and sharing some of his warmth as you two stand together under the setting sun. "we gotta go home soon, princess."

"don't wanna." you murmur.

"aw. c'mon, princess. y'er daddy's asking where we are." he shuts off his phone, putting it in his pocket.

"mm. okay. lets go home." you sigh.

toji takes one last drag from his cigarette before throwing it away and putting it out with his foot. Then he wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer to him and kissing you deeply on the lips. "parting gift?" he smirks.

you laugh. "whatever, daddy."

"let's go home now, sweet girl." he rolls his eyes, laughing as you pepper kisses over his face. "and remember..." he adds on, his voice a smooth murmur. "our little secret." he holds out his pinky.

"your little secret." you whisper, twisting pinkies into a small promise, unfolding for better or worse?

hii i was so lazy writing this (took me a whole damn month) (more like two) but i had to get this out i lobe bodyguard!toji so so so muchhhhh 🙁🙁 (not enough to not be lazy)

reminder that fiction is not reality and don't base off sexual relations w/ smut or p-rn. things are exaggerated and they are fantasies. just an fyi because i gen feel so icky when i write darker content (smut) and how it could impact people who read it... just make sure that there's always consent, you're vocal about boundaries, and you feel safe.

reblogs appreciated i love u guys 🤩

༝༚༝༚ indy

- cross posted on ao3- miniminari (linked if i actually posted it LMAO)

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