#all that’s missing is your head between my legs

[fushitoru]

i can't stop looking at his d—d—d—d—FACE!

pairings ⸺ (SEPERATE) boy next door!gojo x reader, wrestler!toji x reader, gym trainer!sukuna x reader, pizza delivery boy!choso x reader, husband's boss!nanami x reader, perv on train!geto x reader

summary ⸺ jjk men as overused p0rn/h3ntai plots! inspired by this awesome post by the talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular @/osamucide! pls check it out and the rest of his work :3

warnings ⸺ SMUT (mdni), consent is pre-established in all scenarios (but dub con just in case), everyone is of age (or older), exhibitionism, infidelity in nanami’s, pussy drunk men lol, not edited (as always), cowgirl, missionary, creampies, VERY public sex in toji’s, lmk if I’ve missed anything!

a/n lolll i'm ngl this was so fun to write. some of these scenarios are so funnny hELP. this one is also for some of the anons who are so obsessed w choso and sukuna in bridgerton au. wrote them for you 🫡 choso’s is my fav hehe

general masterlist

SUKUNA RYOMEN ⸺ HOTTIE'S PERSONAL TRAINER HAS A VERY HANDS ON APPROACH!

“Brat!” Sukuna’s voice cuts through the air like a whip. “Watch your back. You’re supposed to be hinging your hips back, not whatever lazy shit you were doing.”

He steps around to your side, the heavy thud of his boots on the gym floor adding to the oppressive weight of his presence. Squatting down, he sets his hips back in one smooth motion, demonstrating with sharp precision. “Like this. Not whatever the fuck that was.”

You glance at him, your legs trembling under you. Sweat clings to your skin, a thin sheen that feels heavy after the grueling thirty minutes with your personal trainer. Sukuna definitely takes the "tiger mom" approach, every tattoo on his body echoing the sharp, uncompromising authority in his eyes. Right now, those eyes bore into you, narrowed with impatience, his hands on his hips. His scowl is practically carved into his face—stone-hard and unmoving.

Breathing hard, you slump forward, hands gripping your knees as you gasp for air. Your heartbeat drums loudly in your ears. “Sukuna, g-give me a sec. I just—fuck—” You can barely string a sentence together between gulps of air. “I just maxed out. My legs are literally shaking.”

Sukuna clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment, but his voice softens—just a little. “Fine. Catch your breath. But as you do that, let’s practice proper form.”

You nod exhaustedly, not being able to think very clearly. Wiping the sweat to prevent it from getting into your eyes, you put your legs hip width apart as Sukuna gets behind you to observe your form. You bend down, trying to sit back onto your hips as best as possible, but as soon as your ass grazes Sukuna’s crotch, you lose the form in your back in surprise. “Sorry—”

“That was wrong.” Sukuna’s voice is in your ear as he puts his hands on your hips, and you are dizzy with the contact. “Here.” Both of you squat down, Sukuna’s hard body moving right behind you, and at the lowest position, Sukuna’s thumb roves over the fat of your ass, and they leave your hips to trace up your back. “Your back should be neutral, otherwise you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“O—okay,” you breathily reply, dizzy with the way he was touching you. If you listened closely, it almost sounded as if you were whimpering. Unfortunately for you, it seemed like Sukuna was more observant than you had hoped because he was looking at you in suspicion, eyes raking up and down your figure to observe your appearance. Disheveled, chest rising rapidly, sweat dripping right in the middle of your breasts—

Sukuna, out of nowhere, grabs your hand and begins walking away. “Come with me. You’re not doing them right.”

Soon, you’re led into one of the gym’s stretching rooms—the private ones, the ones meant for Sukuna to help you after the workout. 

“Sukuna, what are we—” you breathlessly ask, but you’re quickly shushed by Sukuna as he hoists himself on the massage table.

“Come here,” he motions to his lap, and you wordlessly follow his directions, sitting directly on top of his lap, gasping as you realize there’s a bulge making contact with your pussy. “We’re going to try an alternative way of doing squats, one that involves a bit more cardio.” He pulls down his sweatpants, blushing, furious cock springing out as he pulls down your yoga pants.

Soon, you’re moaning as you slowly take in his cock, sliding down as his precum and your copious amount of slick mix and drip onto his pelvis. Your feet are on either side of his legs, making you squat every time you lower yourself down on his length.

“Fuck! You’re so tight.” He slaps your ass as you bounce yourself rapidly on his cock. “Pretended to not know how to squat just for me to put this fat cock in you, isn’t that right?”

You didn’t have the capacity to answer, just moan as his cock hits your spot. Unsatisfied with your pace, Sukuna flips you both over until your back is on the table. 

“Oh fuck yea,” Sukuna pants, hips pistoning into you rapidly, effectively fucking you into the table, and his quads are bulging in sheer strength as they clench and unclench in reflection of his pleasure. “Didn’t know my client had such a sweet pussy.”

KAMO CHOSO ⸺ SHE ORDERS BIG SAUSAGE PIZZA AND GETS HER DEEP DICK CRAVINGS FILLED! (the title is so ridiculous im crying)

“Your total’s $14.93. You’re five bucks short.” The delivery boy—an emo looking guy with hair in space buns—responds to the wad of cash and coins you had just given him. He couldn’t look any less bored than he was as he stared down impassively at you, hot, steaming pizza in one hand.

"Wait, but I ordered a small?" You ask him in confusion. "I couldn't possibly finish a large one by myself!"

He pulls out your receipt from where it was tucked into the pizza box. "Your order said a large." Upon glancing on it, you look that he was indeed correct—right next to your pizza, the size LARGE glared at you through the sheen of the reciept's paper.

"Oh," You said, dumbly, blinking in confusion. "Well, I can pay the rest in card if that's okay."

You get an impassive "I don't have a card reader."

"Oh, okay," you laugh nervously, hand going up to scratch the back of your head and fiddle with the rest of your fingers. "Okay, well," you squinted at his nametag, "Choso, let me just check the remaining cash I have. You can come inside if you'd like." 

He comes inside, dropping off the pizza you ordered on your kitchen counter as he makes his way to sit on your couch. You go to your bedroom, checking your desk drawer for any loose cash you may have stored but to no avail. Heart racing and nervous, you frantically search the upper shelf of your room, on your tiptoes as you look for your money jar, praying that there was a 5 dollar piece of cash lying around. Instead, your fingers crash against some book propped on it, tumbling down onto the floor with a large thud!

You hear footsteps coming up to your bedroom door. Choso, standing near the door. "You good?"

"Yea," you strain, still reaching up high to grasp at the jar. "I'm just trying to find somethi—”

The heat of Choso's body surrounds you as he presses closer to you, reaching up effortlessly to grab at the money jar. His groin presses against your backside, acutely aware of his breaths as he passes you the jar. 

Which is empty.

"Fuck!" you curse. You turn, looking at Choso in anxiousness, as you notice he hasn't backed away at all. "I'm sorry, but is there any alternative way to pay for the pizza? Again, I'm really really sorry for the hassle."

"You have to pay for the food in some sort of way," he says with a stony face. Your mind is racing, thinking of ways you could pay but coming up short.

As a result, you end up with your face stuffed against your pillow, the hot delivery boy plowing and drilling his cock into you. 

"Fuck, so irresponsible. Couldn't even pay for the pizza she ordered without a stranger's cock inside of her." At his dirty talk, you whimper and squeeze his pussy, Choso groaning as a result.

"What was that?" He grabs your hair and pulls your face up as his tongue traces the frame of your ear. "What were you trying to say, you cockslut?"

"'M sorry!" You squealed and babbled, eliciting little ah! ah! ah!'s as he continues bumping his cockhead against the gooey spot inside your pussy.

"Yea, you better be. Wasting my fucking time. I'm going to come inside, got it?" Choso growls as he continues pistoning his hips inside.

GETO SUGURU ⸺ ANIME GIRL GETS HER PUSSY FINGERED ON PUBLIC TRAIN!

He pulls you in for a deep kiss while rutting inside you. "Aren't you my good girl? Taking this cock for me like a good girl?" You squeal, blabbering nonsense as he fucks you into next Tuesday…

You read the smut from your favorite author on Tumblr, devouring each word while remaining stony faced as the train rocked underneath your feet. In the corner facing the doors, you made sure that you were angled in such a way that no one would be able to see the filthy things you were reading on your screen. 

However, the metro was slowing down and you looked up quickly—which was painful, considering you were so invested in the story—to make sure it wasn't your stop. As the rush of foot traffic simultaneously populated and vacated the metro, you paid no attention to the people behind you. After all, other people would be too busy on their phones to see what you were reading, right?

"You're going to take this cum, right? I'm going to breed you, my sweet, sweet girl." He laughs.  You take a moment to take in his pretty features. Long hair, beautiful face, all filled with lust for you...

You scan the words, blush evident on your face as your favorite writer has done it yet again. Adjusting, you squeezed your thighs for relief and toyed with the hem of your skirt, failing to notice the soft breaths trailing down the back of your neck just because of how enthralled and taken you were with the plot.

And then, a hand trailed up your thigh, catching you by alarm. You almost drop your phone in your rush to turn and look at the creep that was touching you, ready to beat the shit out of him. 

But when you do turn, you stop and widen your eyes. The man in front of you seems even prettier than the fictional man you were reading about, and you take him in as he rubs circles on your thigh. His sultry eyes rake down your figure, his lips pulled back in a knowing smirk. "That's some filthy shit you're reading."

Looking at him, your heart starts beating faster solely because of the promise of what his hands would do as they were currently softly stroking your thighs, getting closer and closer to going under your shirt. "I—I—uh sorry—I—"

"It's okay, pretty girl." He gives you a kiss on the side of your neck. "Continue reading it. Can you do that, baby?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. Coincidentally, you're at the part where the man helps the girl masturbate, rubbing and teasing her pussy up and down. The man behind you does the same, teasing your lips while refusing to delve inside your panties, no matter how badly you want him to do.

"That feel good?"

You whimper. "Yes—ah—it feels good. Please touch me on my pussy directly. Please."

The man behind you chuckles, and your knees buckle at how rich his voice is. You would join a cult for this man. "Since you asked so nicely, I will. Call me Suguru."

His fingers pull your panties aside and enters, soon knuckle deep inside your cunt, and as quietly as you can, you moan his name as he continues fingering you in front of all the strangers on the train. His hips press closer to your ass, and you throb even more at the huge bulge he’s sporting. He’s sloppily licking on the outside of your ear, right where you’re sensitive, and you shiver and lose yourself in the pressure even more.

The pleasure was building in you steadily and Suguru groans. “That’s right, take it all.”

You almost jump when the PA sounds. "The next stop is Shinjuku."

“That’s my stop. You have to cum before then, or you won’t be able to cum,” Suguru whispers in your ear, speeding up and hitting your g-spot with precision. There are tears forming in your eyes as you make an effort to stay quiet, especially with Suguru giving seductive kisses to your sensitive neck. 

“Fuck, you got so tight,” he groans. “Gonna cum?” He uses his thumb to rub fast circles on your clit, and you see stars. 

“I will—I will,” you cry, as the throbbing and pulsing sensation grows faster and faster until finally, you cum with a muffled cry, because Suguru has his fingers in your mouth to ensure you don’t scream out on this very, very public train.  “Squeezing my fingers so much, relax,” Suguru laughs, popping his slick-coated fingers in his mouth. “You gonna do that to my dick next?”

NANAMI KENTO ⸺ BEAUTIFUL WIFE HAS TO FUCK HER HUSBAND'S BOSS! (NTR)

“Mr. Nanami,” you scrape a hand through your hair and clear your throat. “You wanted to see me?” 

For a moment, your husband’s handsome boss eyes you down, catching on the top button of your blouse currently unbuttoned. You mainly did it because of nervousness, the heat of the room escalating with Nanami Kento’s presence. After a long bout of intimidating silence, he finally speaks. “I assume you can guess why you are here?”

You bounce your knee as you sit across from the man, and you suddenly start sweating. Of course you can guess. Your bum of a husband—the one currently under your charge—neglects to do his deliverables, choosing to take comfort in the fact that you were his higher-up to trust that he would not be getting terminated for his lack of responsibility. 

But what he doesn’t know is that you’ve been begging Nanami not to fire him, despite the propelling and clear reasons to do so. And you fear the day he finally chooses to stop listening to you. 

“Team leader, I’m going to need much more convincing. Your team has been decreasing in productivity ever since your husband joined, and it’s hindering the company,” he reminds you stoically. “I’ve seen you working overtime far too frequently to cover up for your spouse’s negligence.”

You wish time would speed up just to get this difficult conversation with. “I—I’m going to be honest, Mr. Nanami. I don’t have much warrant to continue having him on the team, but it would put my family in much…emotional conflict if this were to happen.” The said emotional conflict would really only be from your husband. You’re sure he’s going to take this as an excuse to drink himself silly, blaming you for not being able to keep him employed. Your throat dries as you finally meet eyes with your boss, silently pleading him to come up with a solution.

“I see.” Nanami crosses his arms. “I suppose there is a…favor you could do for me.”

At that, you perk up and nod your head frantically. “Of course. Anything.”

Which is why you find yourself bent over Nanami’s desk, his cock drilling inside you. He’s ripped your stockings, pulled up your miniskirt, and put your panties to the side as he moans about how sweet your pussy feels. “I’ve been waiting for this forever. Tell me, is my cock better than his?”

“It is!” you squeal. “You’re so—so big!”

Nanami moans as he ruts inside you, your walls squeezing him tight. “Darling, I c—can tell he doesn’t treat you right. You are so tight around me, pussy’s been waiting for a while for a real man.” 

You moan and curse, blabbering affirmations while his dick impales you. Even though Nanami is the one who’s owed the favor here, his hands wind their way around your body to rub at your clit, simulating you even more, making you sob. “Please don’t stop!”

“I won’t ever, sweetheart,” he pants. “I’m going to finish inside her, okay? Make sure to keep it in when you go home and greet your husband.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI ⸺ BABE GETS IMMEDIATELY DESTROYED IN NAKED WRESTLING (WITH AN AUDIENCE)

Cheers surround you as you step into the arena. You know who your opponent is—-Fushiguro Toji. Even when you looked at his pictures earlier, you knew you were doomed. No matter what angle the photographer took the photos in, his muscles seemed to be bulging, effectively spelling out the sore defeat you were about to face today.

And there he is. Him in the flesh. He’s leaning against the boxing ring’s outer borders, head tilted back lazily while his manager, Shiu, was informing him quickly (and intensely) about the rules of today.

Nothing crazy. Only fuck when all clothes are off of her.

The way his neck is tilted back, compression shirt showing off his upper physique made you weak in the knees already. Additionally, judging based off of the bulge he seemed to be sporting in his grey sweatpants, you knew you were doubly fucked.

Shiu seems to be done talking, so he steps back and takes a seat. Toji leans his head back, rolling his neck to stretch it out, and in the middle of doing so, catches your eye.

You almost drench your panties.

His eyes darken, giving you a sultry look as he cheekily winks. While his cocky demeanor was warranted (he was much stronger and bigger than you), your cheeks heated up in both arousal and irritation.

The sound of a whistle is heard as music starts to play. The stadium’s screens flashes the cocky image of Toji, who saunters in the middle of the ring, flexing his muscles to his screaming fans.

When your signature theme plays, you do the same, to no shortage of fans yourself. You can feel everyone in the stadium, especially your male fans, rove over your figure. You’re wearing a very low cut top that displays the swell of your boobs and even tighter shorts that squeeze your ass and show off the shape of your pussy. As you walk towards Toji, you can feel his heavy gaze on you as you nervously shake his hand.

“Try to last long, okay?” Toji smirks, patting your shoulder. “I’ll try to drag this out as much as I can, but it’s gonna be fuckin hard if that ass is grinding against me.”

You glare at him, but there’s not much intensity there. “Yea, yea,” you huff. “For all I know, you’ll be my personal dildo today.”

And the fucker’s smile widens. “Let the games begin.”

Soon enough, the sound of the whistle draws you towards each other, keeping each other in a lock to tackle the other down in an objective to take off layers of their clothing. Your fans cheer when you have Toji underneath you for a split second, only for female ones to become more riotous as he easily overtakes you, pins your hands down, and wrenches your shorts off of you.

“Toji is currently in the lead!” The announcer’s voice in the stadium echoes of your defeat as you flail around, now bottoms only covered by your panties. Deciding to pull out your signature move, you maneuver so your thighs surround Toji’s waist and hump your hips against his bulge. This momentarily distracts and weakens Toji, and you take full advantage of it by overtaking him and now straddling him. You quickly take off his shirt, salivating at the muscles you see. The whole stadium, in fact, can his abs and pecs glistening with sweat.

Your attention is back to Toji as he chuckles darkly. “You’re going to regret that. I was going to drag this out, princess, but I gotta fuck the brat out of you.” With that, he puts his whole body weight on you and strips you down one by one.

The arena cheers as your lace bra is uncovered, your sweat shining on the screen as your breasts are displayed. Toji then unhooks your bra, and the roars get even louder as your tits pop out. He takes a moment to grope them, your whines ignored as he pinches your nipples. “What a sensitive girl,” he coos. “Too bad she was too weak. Now she’s going through to have to take my cock.

With that, he finally unveils your glistening pussy for all eyes to see and the crowd goes wild, chanting for Toji to finish inside you. Toji flips you over so you’re on your hands and knees and pulls down his pants.

You don’t look back at the monster that’s about to enter you for the sake of your mental health, but your legs are shaking in anticipation of his cock, slick dripping down your thighs.

“Fuck.” And Toji’s slowly entering you, the humiliating plap! plap! plap! of his hips against the flesh of your ass echoing multiple strangers watch your pussy get wrecked. “The fuck this pussy’s so tight for? Thought you were a slut?”

You’re tearing up, but not fucked out enough to prevent you from snarkily replying, “You’re not turning me on, small dick.”

He did not like that very much.

Toji drills his hips into yours faster and slaps your ass multiple times consecutively. “Yea, so why is she clenching so fucking much? Why is she dripping? Just for that, I’m going to come inside of your slutty pussy.”

The crowd chants cum, cum, cum! and Toji just does that. Ropes of his cum fill you, and you drop down in exhaustion to hear Toji declared as winner.

GOJO SATORU ⸺ GIRL GETS FUCKED BY PEEPING TOM NEXT DOOR!

You sigh, extending your back and un clipping your bra, letting your tits bounce free after a long, long week of college. It was finally Friday night, and with no one in the house due to a party the rest of your family was attending, you could finally enjoy your time home on the holidays, starting with a solo session.

You clench your thighs in anticipation as you scrolled your phone, seeking an audio you could masturbate to. And you were close to finding one, until you felt eyes on you.

These eyes were nothing new. The boy next door, Gojo Satoru, has also been your crush since middle school. Even though neither of you have ever made a move, you’ve made bold moves since starting college, stripping with the blinds open to give him a show. You had kind of had a sixth sense as to when the fucker would start watching you, and it flared as you slowly dragged your hands down. Bending over and shaking your ass, you slipped your skimpy shorts down your legs, giving him a clear view of your wet pussy.

But masturbating wasn’t enough for today. None of the college frat bros could make you cum, no matter how much they boasted about their fuckin roster, and you were tired of Satoru just watching. Just seeing him work out shirtless in his lawn, sun shining his sweat to give him a golden halo, was enough to make you sick, hungry for his dick. The way he was so shy and the mannerisms he had (as a loser) let you know he had a big fucking dick.

Needless, to say, you were tired of just fantasizing and speculating about his dick. Turning around, the moonlight allowed you to see the silhouette of his wrist moving up and down his length, even if he had tried to make his best effort to darken his rooms. Putting on your best show of an angry face, you grab your phone aggressively and dial his number.

The line rings, and he picks up. “Hey,” and you can tell he’s a little breathless. “long time no see. What’s up?”

“Cut the fucking act out,” you spit. “I know you’ve been fucking watching me, perv.”

Satoru’s panic is comically obvious over the phone as he rushes his words. “Wait, wait—listen, I—I can explain.”

“On how you’re being a peeping tom?” You glare at his window. “Come over, Gojo. Then I’ll listen to your fucking explanation.”

One thing leads to another, and now you’re spread out on your childhood bed, Gojo whimpering and whining as he plows his dick into your pussy. “You feel so—so good. M’ sorry—sorry for doing that. Your pussy is too good for me to look at.”

You laugh meanly and grab his chin. “You feel sorry yet, you pervert?” And Satoru can only cry out as you yank his head. “Remember, this is the only fucking thing you’re good at. Being my glorified dildo. Got it? Now, you’re going to fill me up only after you make me cum at least two times.”

a/n yea this was depraved….lmk what yall think tho 😭

comment and reblog I’d love to hear your thoughts! (also, requests are open heheh)

[shotmrmiller]

in which johnny gifts the love of his life a sex toy outta nowhere

when you mumble into the phone that you miss him, johnny, he pauses for a second, then tells you he's going to bring you a gift back home. "to keep ye company, hen." after, he locks himself in a bathroom stall and watches you play with yourself until you both come.

but you'd thought he'd bring you a pet. a live animal that needs a cage to be brought across the world, not a long, slim unmarked box.

it's a sex toy. and it's rather large, at that. your hand wraps around the base, fingertips still a good inch apart.

"and i'm supposed to be using that?" his arms wrap around your waist, his thick stubble grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, raising goose flesh.

"don't like it? only had ye in mind, hen." he presses a wet kiss on your fluttering pulse. you've never really talked about toys in your relationship. you don't need them, of course, and johnny more than makes up for the time lost between you two whenever he's home but this?

"i don't know," you mumble. "a bullet would've made more sense, i think. at most a rose." his hands run up your sides, to the swell of your breasts and give you a gentle squeeze. he doesn't believe the tripe of people valuing size over all else, does he? the thing is easily as thick as your forearm and it's corded with veins. and it's uncut. whoever is making these are going to extreme lengths to make it as realistic as possible.

he bucks his hips, prominent bulge in his jeans coming to rest in the small of your back. of course he'd get excited. menace.

"ye willnae have t'use it alone now tha' i'm here. 'sides, i think ye'd look perfect with my pretty kitty stretched thin around it." johnny grabs your hips firmly, creating small divots as his grip tightens. "maybe i'll watch ye fuck yerself on it, hm? lap at yer clit while ye do." liquid heat pools in your belly, pulsing hot between your legs.

he really wants you to use it, given by his ragged breathing and he rutting himself against you. fine. "okay. just, not right now, yeah? i want only you in me." his eyes burn fluorescent as he nods, his large hand cradling your head as he pulls you in for a kiss.

you missed this. the sweet sting of his cock sliding home in your aching cunt, the sharp pinch below your navel when his tip comes to sit snugly against the plug of your womb. you've missed this. missed him.

maybe he'll forget all about that monstrosity sitting in the box.

-

he doesn't. he's bringing it up hours later, his spend still dripping warm on your thighs. johnny cannot be serious.

"course i am, hen." his fingers sweep at the hair stuck to your sweat-slick forehead. "is it a crime to want to see ye split open on some- something else?"

you think nothing of his stutter. "alright," you groan. if that's what he wants. it'll be interesting to see just how much you can take. you'll never tell him that your pussy clenched around nothing at the thought, his cum trickling out faster, pooling on the sheets.

-

it's not warm. the tip of it presses against your swollen entrance, cold in contrast to your heated flesh. johnny watches you swallow a gasp, your trembling hands reaching for his as you slide down an inch, two, three. johnny's cum is wonderful lube, but the searing burn- the size of toy is overwhelming, your walls being wrenched apart as you glide down further. johnny presses a prickly kiss on your cheek, cooing in your ear all the while his clever fingers draw gentle circles on your clit. "focus on breathin', bonnie. yer tensin' up."

desire begins to bubble beneath your skin, pleasure causing your muscles to warm and slacken, and after a long couple of minutes, you find yourself at the base.

but then johnny grabs your hips from behind and pulls- oh. "that's it." if you'd thought the toy had originally been in your stomach, it's now in your throat. "pretty as a peach, hen. jus' wha' i wanted to see." a shiver dances up your spine, notches trembling as you get used to the unforgiving stretch of the toy. his breath warms the side of your neck. "on yer go."

you come around it no less than three times, leaving it milky and johnny cleans it up with his mouth before he cleans you up.

-

the girth of it is something you'll never get used to but it does get easier. when johnny goes back to work, he tells you that all he asks for are videos of you using it. for his collection, he greedily says.

you send him as many as you can, no matter the hours. just a quick nsfw text before getting his thumbs up and away it goes. it's incredibly fun. the relationship hadn't been dull by any means, but this just feels invigorating. you feel rejuvenated. that johnny is your biggest cheerleader while using it is such a bonus.

you oughta marry him. maybe you'll elope the next time he's home. but when the next time comes, johnny calls you instead of messaging you the usual be home soon text.

and it sends you reeling.

bonnie. the toy treat ye well while i was gone?

no better than you could me, but yeah. i'm still sore from using it in the last video i sent you.

that's great. if ye like the toy then ye'll love the real thing, i ken. we'll be there in 10.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hello, hope you're a having a good day

Could you write something about 141 x reader where the sparring session turns a little too not your usual sparring (if you know what I mean). The reader and them being all sweaty and shit and like the sexual tension that's been there for a while. This idea has been plaguing my mind since forever. Thank youuuu

Haha! Yes! Omg, I love it. Okay, for this, I didn't go full smut. When someone mentions sexual tension, I tend to hyperfocus on that and want to bathe in it. Give me naughty thoughts and flirting-maybe even some actual physical contact that borders on dangerous territory. Give me the yearning! I want to giggle and kick my feet and think about what might happen later.

So, I indulged in that regard! I had lots of fun with this. Thank you so much for sending it in!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141!Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, knife play, grinding, rough kissing, caught in the act, training, naughty thoughts, mutual yearning

Word Count: 2.4k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Come on. Come at me.”

Soap rolls his shoulders and then brings his fists up in a fighting stance. He makes a “go on” gestured with his hands.

Every muscle in your body is sore. Tired doesn’t even begin to describe how you’re feeling. But you want to best Soap. He’s been on your ass for weeks now—insisting that the two of you should spar together. It’s not the sparring that makes you warm and tingly but the way he suggests it.

Always leaning in. Standing far too close. Bumping your shoulder with his.

Soap waits, but you’re not sure how to proceed. So far, you’ve been completely unsuccessful. As if knowing all your moves, Soap has dodged each blow and kick, effortlessly taking you down to the mat every time you thinking you’ve ensnared him.

Stealth is more your thing. Creeping around in the shadows. Taking out opponents from afar. A sniper scope is your friend. Hand-to-hand isn’t.

You lunge for him and Soap steps back. Fist missing him, you sidestep and go for a jab in the stomach. Soap slaps your hand away, and you want to yell in frustration.

“Sloppy today,” chides Soap, grinning like this amuses him.

It probably does. He’s one for a good laugh.

This time you feign, and Soap takes it, moving in. You’re ready for him, turning out of his swing to duck beneath and then aim for the face. Soap rises to block, and opens a clear line to his groin.

Fucking beautiful.

Lifting your foot, you don’t tap him hard, just enough for his cheeks to go pink. Soap grunts, and you chuckle.

“Shouldn’t have left yourself—”

With an oof, your back smacks against the tumble mat beneath you. Soaps snags your wrists and pins them above your head. You go to kick out at him, but Soap’s knees are between your legs. He shoves them wider.

You’re completely trapped beneath him.

And in a completely inappropriate position.

From where you’re pinned, you notice the small beads of sweat on his brow and how a few pieces of hair stick to his skin. Though his chest is covered by a shirt, it’s snug, with every muscle on display. Those powerful thighs of his press against yours in such a way that you’re imagining nothing between your bodies.

Would he feel this powerful over you if the two of you were elsewhere? Perhaps, somewhere more private. Somewhere without a tumble mat. Somewhere with a bed.

“Can’t harm the goods, love,” says Soap, his voice husky. You’re not sure if it’s from the close contact or from the tap you gave his crotch.

“Then don’t leave them vulnerable,” you reply, almost not recognizing the sound of your own voice. It too is husky as if dipped in desire.

The middle of Soap’s brow scrunches slightly. His gaze travels downward to linger on your lips and then further still until you sense him admiring more than he is observing.

“Soap—”

His gaze snaps upward. “Johnny,” he corrects. “Think we’re on closer terms.”

“Are we?” you ask, as his hips start to relax.

The press of him against you is apparent, and the hardness there is poking at you. Insistent. And you don’t want to ignore it.

Instead, you press upward, grinding against him.

Soap—no—Johnny, makes a sound in his throat.

One moment you’re under him and then you’re in his lap, the two of you sitting up, staring into each other’s eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, and your hands fists the front of his shirt.

“You—”

“Are we interrupting something?”

You and Johnny turn just as Ghost and Gaz enter the gym. Gaz has a towel draped over his shoulder. The water bottle he holds it half-way towards his mouth before he freezes, gaze locked on you and Johnny.

Ghost cocks his head, arms crossed over his chest.

You’re speechless. Lost. Your mind hasn’t caught up.

But Johnny’s has.

With a twist, Johnny rolls and then lightly tosses you off him as if the two of you were simply practicing and not staring into each other’s eyes.

“You want a go, Lt?” asks Johnny.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“You up for another round?” asks Kyle.

The man is grinning like he could do this all day. You’re sore everywhere—ready to collapse from exhaustion. Hand-to-hand combat is not your thing which is why you’re here in the training room with Kyle.

Yes, you need practice, but you’ve also had your eye on him, admiring him when you think no one is looking. It’s an excuse for some alone time.

“I’d rather eat glass,” you mutter, snatching up your water bottle and drinking the last of it.

“Hate me that much?” he teases.

“So much so that I wanted to spend the afternoon beating your ass.”

Kyle bursts out laughing. He snatches the water bottle out of your hand and aims it at you, squeezing. There’s nothing in it. A few measly drops hit your face and then you lunge for him. Kyle jumps back and extends his arms outward.

“One more round.” He winks. “Come on, love.”

He’s being cheeky, and your blood is pumping.

Kyle tosses your water bottle to the side as you stride forward. His arms go up, and then the two of you are nothing but flying fists and feet. He’s faster, blocking every blow you send his way.

Sweat accumulates on your brow and on the back of your neck, dripping down your spine. You lick your lips, taste the salt from the sweat.

You duck. Swing. Kyle snatches your wrist and twists, pinning your arm behind you. With a sharp jab of your elbow, you nail Kyle in the stomach, freeing yourself.

As you spin to lash out, Kyle is right there, in your space, blocking all movement. You try to step back, to allow space in your next strike, but Kyle rushes in. The two of you are twisted up. Falling. Slamming into the mat on the floor.

You shove and Kyle resists, his strength outmatching yours. With cheek pressed into the mat, you have nowhere to go. You’re completely on your stomach, and all of Kyle’s weight is on you. He breathes heavily, chest heaving. You feel his breath against your skin, and the contact only sends your skin into a shiver.

Your mind drifts, lingering in places it shouldn’t. Worse—Kyle is aroused. His hardness pokes at your ass. But whether he notices or not is unclear.

“You’re improving,” he says.

“I have a good teacher.”

Kyle makes a noise that sounds like agreement. Every muscle is tense, and even Kyle’s hold on you seems laced with something harsh. But then it eases. Softens. His grip loosens enough that you roll onto your side, glancing up at him.

He is so goddamn close. Just a gentle tilt of the head and your lips would meet his. It wouldn’t be that hard. He’s right there.

Kyle blinks, and then his gaze trails downward, lingering on your lips.

“We,” he begins. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

His thumb traces along the side of your throat, and your eyelids flutter with contentment. A little moan escapes you, and you hear Kyle’s sharp inhale.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck it.”

His thumb becomes his whole hand. Holding you in place, Kyle goes all in, claiming your lips with his. It is dominating, and you happily give in to him.

John Price

Your back hits the tumble mat with a sharp slap. The exposed portions of your shoulders and back sting from the contact.

"Again."

Groaning, you push up to a seated position. "We've been at this for hours."

"And you need practice," counters Price.

He's hatless. And shirtless. Only in cargo pants and boots, Captain Price's bare skin glistens with sweat. You won't pretend that the sight of him like this doesn't intrigue you. For months now you've been observing Captain Price in more than just a professional manner. It's hard not to, and the sweat-drenched man before you isn't helping things.

Captain Price runs his fingers through his hair, taking a step back. The casualness to the movement causes your stomach to twist with desire. Your body betrays you, and you have no idea if these feelings are entirely one-sided. Sometimes you think you might gleam a notion of his thoughts, but it always manages to slip through your grasp.

Price offers his hand, and an idea forms.

You extend yours, but don't close the distance. Price is the one that leans forward to do so. It's the perfect opportunity. When your fingers close around his, you tug back, throwing him off balance.

Price tips forward, and you turn to the side as he crashes down to the mat. In one fluid movement, you roll Price onto his back and straddle his stomach.

"Never let your guard down. That's what you always say."

Price's eyes widen slightly before softening. The corner of his mouth twitches into a hint of amusement. It immediately sends heat flaring through you.

"I do," he replies, and it's nearly a coo.

That smirk of his widens into an actual smile, and then it's you on your back and Price straddling. You strike out with an elbow but Price catches your swing, trapping your arms above your head. He bends forward a bit, and it is then that you feel the stiffness against your stomach.

Price makes no move to hide it, and you don’t dare glance downward.

"You need to do better-"

"Captain."

Price immediately recoils, sitting up and releasing your arms. You twist to look behind you, only to find Ghost and Soap standing nearby. Ghost is ever the silent observer, but Soap's head is slightly tilted to the side, the middle of his brow pinched like he's not sure what's happening.

"Meeting starts in five,” says Soap. “Came to find you."

Price coughs and then he's off you, kneeling and offering you a hand again. You don't try to knock him down.

"Just going over some pointers,” replies Price.

"Pointers?" deadpans Ghost and you shoot him a look. He shrugs at you, gaze lingering before moving to his captain.

"Give me ten minutes. Shower. Then I'll be there."

Captain Price gives you a quick glance before walking off with Soap. Ghost crosses his arms over his chest and just stares.

“What?" you snap

"Pointers," he repeats.

"Oh, fuck off, Simon."

He chuckles and turns to follow the two out of the training room.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Your posture is terrible."

"That's very helpful, Lieutenant,” you deadpan.

"Are you sassing me?"

"No."

Simon shakes his head and sighs. “Can’t throw a knife accurately if you’re hunched like a goblin.”

“Goblin,” you mutter under your breath. “Asshole.”

“What was that?”

You clear your throat. “Seems easy, Lieutenant. You just throw the pointy end at the enemy.”

Simon grunts and then grabs your raised arm. "You won't hit anything standing like that."

You resist his pull but you're outmatch when it comes to strength. With one hand on your arm and one on your waist, Simon shifts you into position.

"Like this," he instructs, bringing your arm back. "Firm grip. Feet pointed forward." Simon releases your arm but his hand on your waist remains. "Throw. At the target."

You let the knife fly. It strikes just right of the bullseye.

"Again,” nods Simon.

"Really?"

Simon slowly drops his hand from your waist, the tips of fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.

Removing a knife from his boot, Simon flips it end over end. "We could hone your skills a different way."

"What way?"

“Grab your knife and find out.”

Stalking toward the bullseyes, you yank out the knife, joining Simon in the sparring ring. He bends at the knee, crouching into a fight stance. You mimic the movement.

Simon lunges first and you sidestep. But he's quick for such a large man. He moves around and behind you so fast he's almost a blur.

Grabbing your wrist, Simon lightly twists and pins you against his front, the knife tip pointed at your throat.

"Again,” he growls.

Simon lightly shoves you away. You spin. Striking out. He slaps your arm down and raises his own, the knife tip pointed at your throat for a second time.

"Again."

Showing your teeth, you charge at him, barreling into him at the middle. Simon staggers but doesn't faulter. He attempts to toss you off him, but you remain firm, grabbing hold.

This unloads him, his weight toppling with you. The two of you go down. Simon rolls you onto your back, his body pressed to yours, knife at your throat again.

"Better,” he says. “Still needs improvement."

You go to shove him off, but Simon doesn't budge. He remains where he is, and every point of contact is like an electrical spark. Even his face is close, balaclava nearly scratching against your skin. There is not part of him you’re not touching.

Awareness settles in.

Simon is all hardness over you.

"Have any tips you can give me?" you reply.

His gaze slowly lowers to your lips. His hips shift slightly, something stiff poking against your inner thigh.

“I have one,” he murmurs.

Bet I can guess.

“How do you want it?” he continues.

"You're the expert," you reply softly, hooking your leg over the back of his.

It's an invitation, one you aren't sure he'll take.

There’s a brief pause, and then Simon hums in agreement. It’s a pleased sound, one that instantly makes you shiver. Without taking the knife from your throat, he closes the distance, lips pressing against yours through the balaclava.

Heat erupts, the knife in your hand forgotten on the floor as you grab at him, fingers digging in.

It's only a tease. You want the real thing.

"What's the tip?" you ask once he breaks the connection.

Simon answers by grinding his hips against yours.

That one. Got it.

“We should—”

A door slams from somewhere down the hall. Simon’s head snaps up. The knife disappears, and then Simon is pushing himself away, kneeling beside you. His head is turned toward the main doors, but no one enters.

“It’s late,” you say. No one should be coming this way.

He turns back to you. “Your knife skills are shit.”

You groan. “I know. Goblin hunch. Got it.”

Simon snorts, and offers his hand. You take it, and he pulls you into a seated position. “Just a few more rounds,” he says, and then with a husky twinge to his tone, “and then I’ll go make sure the locker room is clear.”

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[thinkinonsense]

SEVEN DAYS

x2!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: desperate!logan, eating reader out, fingering, squirting?

masterlist

the mission was only supposed to last for two days. forty-eight hours and he would return home to you. instead it was dragged out much longer than it needed to be.

logan wanted nothing more than to be home in your arms instead of a motel room alone, painfully hard, trying to tune out scott snore on the other side of the wall.

so, on thursday afternoon when him, scott, and storm returned to the mansion, logan wasted no time hunting you down. he could smell you the second he walked through the front door; you were in charles office. charles, hank, jean, and you were meeting to discuss a new experiment when logan bursts through the door.

"logan! pleasure for you to join us." hank announces.

your head snaps up from your scribbling to see that your lover has returned safely. he looked like a lion ready to pounce on a naivë little lamb.

"just came by to pick something up." logan answers, ignoring everyone else in the room as he made a b-line for you.

"hey, baby–"

within seconds, logan lifts you up over his shoulder and out of the leather seat. you squeal, dropping your notepad and pen. your kitten heels kick his abs as your squirm in his arms.

"logan!" you hiss, swatting his toned back as he turns around to walk out of the room, unphased. "what the hell! put me down!"

he ignores you, pulling down your dress to cover your behind from your co-workers. no one was shocked by logan's actions. the man wasn't a patient person by any means. they all watched as you left over logan's shoulder, face blushing with embarrassment.

when logan finally shut your guys bedroom door, he placed you down on the edge of your bed; yet to say a word to you. instead, he falls straight to his knees in front of you. his big callous hands, rubs the soft skin of your inner thighs, opening your legs.

logan couldn't help but moan when he saw the pretty lacy light blue panties you were wearing. you could see the neediness in his eyes as he licked his lips. before he can remove your underwear, you cradle his face in your much smaller palms.

"you alright, baby?" you ask, looking down at him.

similarly to a cat, logan rubs the scruff of his beard against your thigh, pressing his nose against the thin panties; inhaling the scent of your arousal. you run a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp softly before your fingers tugging on the kitten tuffs, making him whimper against your pussy.

"mhm..." he manages to say. "i missed you."

"aw, i missed you–"

"missed your scent, your lips, your mouth..." his words are muffled as he kisses you messily over the lace. "missed this fuckin' pussy so much."

you gasp when he pulls down the soaked material and moves back for a second to look at you. he spreads you apart with his thumbs, watching you twitch and clench at the cool air hitting your pussy. she was warm, wet, and welcoming to him. logan couldn't imagine a better way to spend the rest of his day.

"there's my favorite girl." logan smiles before spitting right on your button and latching his mouth onto you. you moan loudly as he talks to your pussy, acting as if you weren't even in the room.

"you've missed me too, huh, pretty girl?" he moans incoherently as his tongue runs over core.

it's a struggle to keep your eyes open but it was worth the sight of logan's head in between your legs. the noises he made with your slick were unbelievably lewd.

"must've missed me a lot." you giggle, trying to catch your breath as he wraps your legs around his head.

"you've got not fuckin' idea." he mumbles into your folds. spit and slick pooled onto the sheets that laid under you as logan feasted.

logan looks up at you and fears he might cum just from the image of you with your head thrown back, eyes rolled back and mouth slightly parted as you sing his praise of 'right there, logan!', 'such a good boy for me'.

the 'good boy' comment threw logan's mind into a frenzy. he needed to hear you. he needed to be surrounded by your presence. two of his fingers dip into you, fast and rough. your thighs squeeze his head, threatening to pop it right off his body.

there was no time to warn him before your high hit. logan slurped up every bit of honey you had to offer him. you reach down for the hand that wasn't busy locating your sweet spot and place it on your tit. logan could feel your heartbeat and it only sent him further on his spiral, adding a third finger and repeatedly hitting that spot that made you see fireworks.

"i c-can't, logan" you mewl, wiggling back from logan's tongue. he catches you, latching back onto your button. "it's too m-much!"

"she's takin' me just fine." his voice is muffled against you in the dirtiest way possible.

the pressure builds in your tummy. there were no words in your brain at this point, moaning and babbling about nothing.

"that's the spot, huh?" he groan, smirking up at you. logan's fingers twist up, slamming against that gummy spot deep in your walls.

the motion caused you to let out more slick than you ever had before, gushing on logan's face. you can hear him curse as he licks you clean.

“it’s only been seven days, you know?” you giggle, trying to catch your breath.

he climbs up your body to capture your lips, letting you taste yourself. you moan into his mouth, as logan grinds down on you, needing more.

“seven days too long, sweetheart.”

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

a/n: just something short n sweet before i post part 2 of dad!logan x teacher!reader <3

[wosoluver]

Oh, baby

Georgia Stanway x reader.

I know nothing about giving birth so bare with me. Also please don't kill me for the plot changes, Hope you like it!

Other players masterlist

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Fuck!" you said feeling the warm liquid run down your legs. "No, no, no." You were staying over at her parents' house. Tomorrow would be the final match at the 2023 world cup and you would be gathered to watch the game there.

"Jo! We need to go, my water just broke!" you said grabbing her mother's attention. Her dad had gone to Australia to support her, but her mom refused leaving you, pregnant and alone. And you thanked the universe. You were 36 weeks, you were to give birth only next month. You had been feeling small contractions, that were apparently normal in the third trimester.

That was the only reason Georgia agreed to go.

A million thoughts went through your mind. Would the baby be okay? Would they have to do a C-section?

Would your fiancé be okay, knowing she missed the moment se was waiting so excited for? Were you even ready for this?

You started to cry immediately.

"Don't worry love, I'm calling her as soon as you're in the hospital."

"No please! You can't! You know her!" you said followed by a scream when you felt the sharp pain of a contraction hit you. "Please, please wait as much as we can. This is important for her, she needs to be a hundred percent focused."

"But seeing her daughter's birth is too..."

"I know but even if she knows, she'll won't get here in time. Please."

She only nodded agreeing with you. And you asked her to call your parents instead.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

While you walked around the room, preparing yourself for the ride ahead, in attempt to stay sound, you thought about what had led you here.

You and Georgia had been together for almost six years.

You had met at Man City, both came from a small town and were around the same age, sharing the dream to become big players.

You started dating, and your relationship went through a lot.

You endured for years a long distance relationship, when you moved away to play in Spain and she stayed back in Manchester.

A couple of seasons later you transferred to Bayern, where your girlfriend soon followed suit.

And you both finally managed to start your life together.

She didn't want to wait any longer, all that time had been enough.

From living together to her proposing, life felt like pure bliss.

And after the 2022 euro's title, you felt like it was the right time to have a pause on your career.

It wasn't an easy decision, since the World Cup was around the corner.

But differently from your teammates, you now had a bigger dream, Georgia fully supported you, she herself had always wanted to be a mother.

You didn't expect for it to work so soon.

Along with the risks the doctors had told you, it could take more than one try.

Fortunately the whole pregnancy had been very healthy, and nothing gave you any reason to think something like this could happen.

You questioned yourself if you were doing the right thing, by not updating her on the matter.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Georgia's head was buzzing, Spain was winning by a goal. England had slightly recovered at the end of first half, but it wasn't enough.

She sat on the locker room, trying to cool down, zoning out a bit. All she could think of was winning this, to come home as a champion. For her girls.

She could have never imagined you had been in the hospital for the last couple of hours, let alone giving birth. So she didn't bother to look for her phone.

And before she knew, she was walking back to the field for the second half.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Just one more push, yeah?"

And you did as a loud cry filled the room. And they placed her right on your chest.

You felt like you could pass out from how tired you were.

But you couldn't, yet.

"You did great darling." her mom cooed you in between tears.

"Is the game over yet?"

"Yes, they won second place." she handed your phone over.

You cried hard a the sound of that. She had been deprived of being champion and seeing her daughter's first moments in the same day, at the same time. You tried to recompose yourself while you pressed to facetime her.

ongoing call...

"Hey love, what took you so lon-" she managed to get out before shutting up at the realization. A big smile appearing in her tear stained face. "She's beautiful."

before she could say anything else, Lucy, who was prying at the video call, loudly announced to everyone.

"The baby is here!" and you could hear the girls cheering loudly. Running to try and congratulate you.

"You guys are so loud, geez." your soon to be wife said after a few moments, walking to a more private place, so you both could talk.

"I am so sorry." you said eyes filled with tears.

"We couldn't have known." she said giving you a reassuring smile. "I was going to show you this baby here," showing her silver medal at the camera. "But it seems like you're already holding our baby right there."

And for over ten minutes you two sat quietly, just admiring the angel you had brought into the world.

"Is she okay? I mean she clearly looks like it, but since she's early..."

"Better than expected actually. They said she's around 6.30 lbs and over 19 inches. Pretty big for a preterm. They'll run some tests in the morning, just to be sure." you said letting out a yawn.

"You need to get some sleep. And I'm getting on the first plane home."

"I love you, and I'm so proud of you."

"Oh baby, I'm the one who's proud. I love you. Both of you."

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Maybe another part with G meeting baby Talia?

like & share pls!

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You go through a whirlwind of emotions when drunk.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: drunk!reader, Reader annoying Sirius

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: James Potter x drunk!Reader

You were slumped between James and Sirius, giggling uncontrollably, your legs swinging off the armrest of the couch as you hiccuped. The room was warm, and everything felt so funny. Especially Sirius's hair.

"You know what, Pads?" you slurred, poking Sirius in the cheek. "You look like a... a giant poodle. But a mean one. Like, the poodles at the dog shows that bite people."

Sirius's jaw dropped. “A poodle? You—no, absolutely not. I am—what did you say I was, James?”

James was trying not to laugh. "Uh, majestic, I think."

"Majestic!" Sirius pointed at you dramatically, like that would prove his point.

You snorted so hard you almost fell off the couch, but James caught you, his arm wrapping around your waist and steadying you. "Sure, sure, 'Padfoot the Majestic Poodle.'"

"It's mostly because of your hair—" you giggled, reaching out to pat the top of his head, missing entirely and booping his nose instead. "It's so fluffy, like a big, angry puppy!"

Sirius frowned, swatting your hand away dramatically. "I am not a dog, and my hair is majestic, thank you very much."

"Fluffy," you repeated, poking him in the cheek now. "Sirius, fluffy like a… like a poodle!"

James tried to hold back a laugh as Sirius looked properly offended, folding his arms with a huff. "Are you serious?"

You snorted at his pun. "No, you’re Sirius!"

Remus groaned from beside Peter. "Oh no. Not this again."

Peter shook his head, barely holding back his own giggles. "Here we go…"

“Are you lot serious right now?” Sirius grumbled, crossing his arms. “A poodle. Really.”

“Sirius is serious,” you added, and then cracked up at your own joke. “Sirius is Sirius—wait, Remus, did you hear that? It’s his name.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, we got it.”

“But I’m not a poodle,” Sirius muttered, still offended, while you continued to giggle.

James still eyed the bottle of firewhiskey in your hand like he wanted to take it away. Not that you noticed. Nope. You were too busy trying to poke Sirius in the cheek.

“You’ve got—got something there,” you slurred, leaning in far too close to Sirius’s face.

“What? Where?” Sirius asked, looking genuinely concerned as he wiped at his cheek. “Did I get dirt on me?”

“Yeah, it’s called your face,” you giggled, falling back onto James and laughing like it was the funniest thing you’d ever said.

Sirius gasped dramatically, hand over his heart. “How dare you! James, do you hear this? Your girlfriend is cruel.”

You waved him off, turning your attention back to James, who was trying not to smile. “He’s just mad ‘cause he’s not as pretty as you,” you said, squinting up at James like you were stating the most obvious fact in the world. You reached out and patted his face, a little too hard. “So. Pretty.”

James chuckled, grabbing your hand before you could slap him again. “Alright, love, I think you’ve had enough for one night.”

“Noooooo,” you whined, stretching out the word. “M’fine, Jamie. Look! I can sit up perfectly straight.” You immediately leaned to the side, almost toppling over onto Peter, who yelped and quickly scooted out of the way.

“Maybe… maybe a little too much,” Remus said from beside Peter, watching with raised eyebrows.

“Remus!” you called, throwing your arms out toward him. “You’re so boring, you know that?”

“Hey, I like boring,” Peter mumbled from his chair, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, Wormtail likes boring!” you repeated, pointing to Peter like he was your greatest proof.

You sat up suddenly, looking around the room, eyes wide and dramatic. “Wait. Wait. You guys can’t ever leave me, okay? Promise.”

The Marauders exchanged confused looks. “Uh—okay?” Peter said hesitantly.

“I’m serious—not like Sirius serious—" you hiccuped, "But you guys can’t leave. We have to stay friends forever or I’ll—I’ll hex all of you!” You threw your hands up, trying to look menacing, but it came off more like a flailing octopus.

James quickly wrapped his arms around you as you dramatically collapsed into his chest. “Love, we’re not going anywhere.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sirius muttered, though he was still looking somewhat offended by your earlier insult. “I don’t think I can handle another ‘your face is the problem’ comment.”

But you weren’t having it. You pointed a shaky finger at them, wobbling slightly. “You better not, Sirius Black! Or I’ll—” You narrowed your eyes dramatically, trying to look intimidating. “I’ll hex you into next week! I know spells, you know!”

James bit his lip, trying not to laugh as Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What spells?”

“Spells!” you repeated, waving your hands in the air as if that was a valid explanation. “Dangerous ones!”

Peter snorted. “I’m terrified.”

Sirius held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! Merlin, you’re scary when you’re drunk.”

“Good,” you said, immediately softening. “Because I love you guys, even though Sirius is a poodle, and Remus won’t laugh at my jokes, and Peter—well, Pete, you’re just so cute, aren’t you?”

“Thanks,” Peter mumbled.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you reached out, pulling all of them into a big, awkward group hug. “I just love you guys, okay? Don’t leave me… ever.”

James chuckled, his hand warm on your back. "Alright, let's get you to bed, yeah?"

“I don’t wanna go to bed,” you pouted, leaning into James like a rag doll. “I wanna stay here and annoy Sirius more.”

“I’m not listening to this nonsense,” Sirius huffed, throwing his hands up.

“Oh, but Sirius—don’t you wanna cuddle like a big, fluffy dog?” you teased, blinking innocently.

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re going to regret this in the morning.”

James stood up, pulling you gently with him. “C’mon, love, you’re barely standing.”

“Wait, no, no, no—you're all amazing, even you, Remus, boring and all.” You paused, eyes widening as if you had just realized something horrible. “Wait—don’t ever leave me, guys.”

Your lower lip started to wobble.

“Don’t leave me! You can’t! What if you just disappeared? Poof! Gone! And I’m all alone. I’ll die. I’ll actually die.”

James squeezed your hand, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “I think you’re driving everyone mad, love.”

You looked up at him, beaming. “But not you, right, Jamie?” you gushed, running your fingers through his messy hair, making it even worse. “You’re perfect, James Potter. Like… a Quidditch god! And your glasses are so… shiny.”

Sirius fake gagged. “Ugh, I’m gonna be sick.”

“Shush, poodle!” you shot back at him, your words blending together into a cute mess of slurs. “You’re just jealous ‘cause James is my shiny glasses boy.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but there was a fond smile tugging at his lips. Peter was full-on laughing now, while James was just gazing at you, completely smitten.

You huffed but allowed him to help you stand. “You’re the best, James,” you said, leaning heavily on him as he started to guide you toward the stairs.

“You’re pretty great yourself,” James chuckled, tightening his grip on your waist so you wouldn’t stumble.

Just before you reached the dormitory, you stopped, looking up at him with bleary eyes. “No, really, Jamie. You’re the best. Don’t ever change.”

James grinned down at you, his heart melting a little. “I won’t, love. Now let’s get you to bed before you start threatening to hex me too.”

You smiled sleepily, letting your head rest on his shoulder. “I’d never hex you. You’re too pretty.”

And with that, you were out, leaving James with a fond smile and the rest of the Marauders shaking their heads behind him.

Downstairs, Sirius was still sulking. “A poodle… unbelievable.”

i love drunk!reader so much!!

[yayll]

~ a little something about Dazai surprising you on your day off ~

Dazai's not by any means an early riser... That is unless he gets to see you that day.

It's 8 AM and he's tapping his fingers against his pant leg lightly, but he's actually really anxious and impatient. He’s waiting for you to open the front door and flash him that life changing smile of yours he’s been coveting for all week. Today’s your day off and he's decided to come over and spend the day with you so he can cherish every single moment, totally not because he’s slacking off work and wants to do the only other thing he does with his life other than avoid his responsibilities: Be the bane of your existence. You also have a nasty little habit of being a workaholic and he's here to break that once and for all. He's completely spaced out now, lips pursed and brows slightly furrowed in thought when suddenly-

You finally open the door. His angel, his everything. He immediately switches his whole demeanor, eyes twinkling as he scans your figure. You’re still in pajamas, and your hair looks messy. You look absolutely delectable for someone who just woke up to 3 missed calls and 10 texts. Dazai smirks as he leans in, wiggling his brows in an exaggerated manner.

"Well look who’s finally awake! What a sleepy little thing you are. Makes me jealous of that stupid bed of yours… Did you get my text? Come here"

He looms over you in the middle of the doorway, kissing you softly, tenderly and hungrily.

You blink, and before you can catch your bearings you’re interrupted by the softness of his eager lips. If your mouth opens, he’s pouncing. After a few moments of uninterrupted bliss, you pull back, eyes still drowsy and breathing a bit shallow. You yawn, running your fingers through your bedhead.

“Sorry. I, um… was still asleep until now. I was trying to sleep in-”

He gasps, and tilts his head, as if baffled by this.

“Now why would you do that when we have plans today?”

“... We don’t, though?”

Dazai laughs, dismissing your rightful confusion. He knows you guys never discussed plans, he just doesn't care. He lightly pinches your nose in between his fingers.

“We do! It’s why I let you sleep in for a few extra hours before coming over.”

You lazily swat at him, crinkling your nose. He’s swooning! Dazai feels a jolt of electricity through his body upon seeing the way you respond to his doting. Making you flustered is his favorite entertainment, besides suicide of course.

“But it’s 8 AM.”

“Exactly! That’s like half the day."

"... How long have you been up for?”

He rolls his eyes affectionately as he buffs his knuckles on his tan coat, replying with a nonchalant hum.

“Hmm, not important— What’s for breakfast?”

He lets himself into your apartment and you sigh into a defeated smile that somehow still holds affection for this ridiculous man. You follow him as he strides to the kitchen and fold your arms across your chest.

“You know, I’m kinda grumpy right now. It’s too early, Osamu. I need my sleep."

“And might I say you look absolutely stunning when you’re grumpy? How ever did I get this lucky…”

“Keep it up and I’ll get even worse, you goofball.”

Dazai smiles, it’s sly and dangerous. A challenge, he hears? He pretends to think for a moment, his finger placed on his lips as if really contemplating something. He’s just picturing what you’d look like yelling at him. Heavenly, of course. He flashes you a tender smile as if you just said the most romantic thing and curls his arm around your waist, whispering.

“Ooh, then I can’t wait to see worse.~”

You roll your eyes, unable to help the pink hue spreading over your face. Maybe you're still half asleep, maybe you’re just hopelessly in love with him. Either way you’re screwed. You whine with a hint of annoyance.

“Osamuuuu…”

Oh how he loves when you say his name like that. Maybe it’s time for you two to skip breakfast, he already does anyway, but he knows you actually need nutrients to function. He replies in a singsong voice.

“Yeeesss?”

“I’m making pancakes and you are going to sit down and wait.”

You point at the kitchen counter trying to be stern, and of course, failing miserably.

He looks back at the stool and then back at you. He leans within inches of your face, his nose poking yours. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly and winks.

“No can do, cutie~”

You two spend the morning making breakfast, or at least trying to. YOU are trying to, anyway. Everytime you go to gather ingredients, he’s already handing them to you. When your back is turned to him, you feel his arms snaking around you as you flip pancakes unevenly due to the distracting trail of kisses he's leaving down your neck. You secretly smile to yourself whenever you’re not feigning irritation, you know he loves the banter… Why not indulge the poor man?

You serve two plates and sit down, along with two mugs of coffee. Dazai isn’t allowed to have caffeine around you, but once again, you took pity on him today for some reason… or is it his mystifying persuasion manipulation at play here? He takes a sip of his mug and a satisfying ‘Ahh’ releases soon after. He flickers his eyes towards you as you're about to sip yours as well, and it’s like the world stops. His pupils dilate and he watches intently as the rim reaches your lips, resting his chin on his palm as he leans lazily over the counter. He’s like a dog watching its owner adoringly. During his trance-like state, he thinks about how if you lived together this would be his every day routine. He could get used to watching you drink coffee and eat food. You'd wake up next to each other and hold hands as you watch the sun rise. He would tell you how breathtaking you look with bedhead and make you late for work after failing to keep his hands to himself. Maybe then you wouldn't think he's such an impenetrable wall of secrets. He wonders if there's a future where all of that happens... He snaps out of it, and murmurs.

“Can I have a taste?”

You perk up and look over, tilting your head to the side, amused.

“What, the coffee? You have your own.”

He’s so focused now, staring at your full lips, thinking of a proper answer. He wants to tell you that he's never had intimate moments like these with anyone else and he doesn’t know how long it’ll last before his luck with you runs out, that he’s afraid you’ll see right through his one dimensional facade and leave him for good. That you won’t follow him to his untimely demise should he ever fall, so he has to capture every second of it so he can keep you in his mind forever. He has to lock you up in his heart and throw away the key, otherwise becoming a man of virtue loses all its meaning.

Instead, he opts for the less complicated route, the corners of his lips curling up into a coy smile as he places a gentle hand on your thigh.

“No, your lips, dummy. I want to taste the coffee off of your lips.”

There are no words for the audacity of Osamu Dazai and the feelings thrashing inside you when he says things like that. You smile bashfully and look away, unable to accept his shameless flirting.

“You’re so weird, Osamu…”

“Mm, I'm so yours. No takesies backsies.~"

You slowly meet his gaze, his watchful eyes that ooze devotion practically holding yours hostage… God, you are so beautiful to him. Before you can even register it, Dazai scoops you up bridal style and carries you to the living room, laying you down on the soft couch. His eyes darken as he looks down at you, his fingers tracing the outline of your lips. As soon as you show him the look of love that gives him the consent he’s looking for, he doesn’t think twice about it. He grabs your chin and pulls you into a messy kiss. He kisses you rough, his tongue almost immediately sliding into your mouth as he moans into you. His moans turn into whimpers, like he's been starved of touch for far too long and you're satiating the hunger. He needs to taste the coffee you just drank, and he wants you to know exactly how much he's been aching for this moment. For your much needed day off. For you.

He keeps his hand at your chin, pressing you down deeper into the couch with his hips grinding against yours as he tastes the acidity of the coffee along with the honey you sweetened it with.

Finally, when you literally cannot breathe, you pull away with your dazed and blissed out expression, all red in the face just like he loves. You mumble in between pants.

“Wait— So... What exactly was the plan for today?”

He looks up from running his tongue along your jawline and flashes you that infamously deceptive smile he perpetually keeps on his face, tapping his index finger on your cheek. His voice comes out in a low whisper.

“Breakfast.”

“.. But we already had breakfast.”

He sighs deeply and his finger ghosts its way from your cheek down to the waistband of your pajama bottoms as he mumbles in your ear. You can feel the goosebumps take over as his voice takes on a tone full of longing.

“Still hungry.. I’m a growing boy, you know.~”

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head.

"You're going to tire me, Osamu.. Work wears me out enough as is-"

He wiggles a finger at you, face full of sickening desire as he carefully lowers his head down by your stomach, resting his cheek on your soft flesh. His voice comes out a soft and pleading murmur.

"Listen to me, please. No more work talk... No more stressing out your pretty self, okay? I haaaaate demanding jobs. It only takes you away from me."

You look down and simply nod, your eyes trained on on the way he looks at you from under his lashes and the soft brown hair that frames his face. Your heart races with anticipation as a smile slowly creeps up onto your lips. You don't need words for what comes next.

For the rest of the day, he makes sure you have the best time off, it's the least he can do as your incredibly attentive and not selfish at all boyfriend! A day where you can shut out all thoughts of work... along with literally anything else that doesn't relate to him.

Unfortunately for you, there is no resting involved on said day. Fortunately for Dazai, you look so cute as you writhe under him for hours on end. That'll get it through your pretty little skull not to work so much.

[moonchildstyles]

bardot

y/n is an aspiring model, and harry just might be the person that could help her

wordcount: 12.5k+

this is a patreon exclusive, with every part after this one only available on my page!

—————

A chill touched the base of (Y/N)'s spine as she padded over the cracked tiles lining her kitchen floor. It was enough of a disturbance to cause a pinch in her brows, though she still couldn't manage to peel her eyes open more than a crack. If not for the fact that she had to run a couple of errands before her shift tonight, she wouldn't even be awake at the moment. 

Working through that fatigue, she rubbed her eyes as she reached for the box of Cheerios on the top of her fridge. Her movements were lethargic as she made her breakfast, taking her time as she attempted to wake up despite the late night she'd had, closing the restaurant. Before sitting down with her cereal, she made a point to draw open her curtains, allowing bright beams of sunlight to filter through her apartment, a tactic she opened would wake her up. 

Feeling the warmth on her skin, her tired eyes fluttering against the bright light, it was all something she was still getting used to. The California sun was still so novel to her compared to the weather she'd grown up with back home. Though she missed the multitude of sweaters she'd left behind at her parents' home, she would trade those knits to get this kind of sunlight any day. 

(Y/N) pulled in a deep breath, imagining the specks of sunlight bumbling through her lungs. It didn't feel so bad then to sit down with her breakfast, a selection of new, glossy magazines sitting in the middle of her coffee table—a gift from herself after getting through her shift the night before.

Spooning a bite to her mouth, she picked up the first magazine with VOGUE stamped across the top. The cover held a glimmering photograph of a woman draped in a brightly colored dress, her hair teased high, and the kind of makeup (Y/N) had attempted to achieve in her bathroom mirror—though it never turned out as clean. The headlines had printings about the best summer pieces to have to get that "California Style", along with spreads about the new "Paris Chic" and the best eye makeup for your eye color. 

This was her morning news. Everything she wanted to know was between the glossy pages, every photograph a part of her morning routine. Flicking through, (Y/N) admired the models printed on the pages, each of them exceptionally beautiful and holding a kind of poise she wondered also ran through their real lives. 

Did Jean Shrimpton always look that perfect? Was Donyale Luna even able to leave the house without someone stopping her for just a momentary look at her cheekbones? Did any of these women ever admire themselves on the page the way (Y/N) did?

Though she skimmed the articles as she went, she no doubt had eyes for the photos themselves. If she squinted hard enough, she could almost see herself instead of the leggy body on the page. 

After finishing off her cereal, she flipped the page just as she began to rise to tow her dishes to the sink, though the ad on page had her lagging for just a moment. 

Corseted into an hourglass shape, complete with a puffy bunny tail and a set of ears on her head, was a woman with blonde hair teased high holding a silver serving tray. Black stockings molded around her legs, showing off the curves like the smile on her lips. Beneath her was a bold black font, detailing the opening of a new club in Los Angeles. 

Playboy. 

(Y/N) was familiar with the branding and the general idea behind the company, but it wasn't something she gave more than a passing thought most of the time. It was never something that really appealed to her, piquing nothing more than her curiosity over how many models—well known and hidden, alike—had been able to feel that kind of confidence to be able to pose the way they did. While she'd never seen anything for herself, there was always the talk about the centerfolds of the magazines, and what exactly was sandwiched between the pages.

It was definitely a departure from the kinds of modeling she had pictured for herself when she made the move out to the west coast in the first place, but she wondered, while looking at the corseted woman, what it could feel like to be in that spot. Would the confidence come naturally? Would the perfect posture and the perfect smile come on instinct, or were those women directed and directed until they were what the men around her told her would sell? 

She couldn't be sure, the idea being too much for her to figure out since she hadn't even been on a set herself yet. She didn't know what it would be like to have a real photographer put their camera in her face normally, let alone with only the smallest amount of clothing on her body. 

Casting one more glance at the page, she rose from her spot on the couch to take her dishes to the sink. With the corseted woman out of sight and out of mind, (Y/N) was instead distracted by the calendar pinned to the wall beside her sink. Today's slot was marked with all of the day's errands as well as her shift time, though she was distracted by the following day.

There wasn't anything particularly special marking the space, but it would commemorate the six month anniversary of her official move to California. 

If she thought too hard about it, she would focus on the lack of auditions she'd been on after the move, the zero number of scouts that had seen her on the street and begged her to join their agency, the amount of times she wondered if she had actually made the right decision when she asked her parents to help her pack up and move across the country. 

Instead, she reminded herself of the same thing she always did when all of the change had become overwhelming: just because it hasn't happened for her yet, doesn't mean it never will. 

She was an optimist at heart, and she would continue to be optimistic about her future in this city. One day she would be plastered on a billboard, or showcasing a new Maybelline mascara with her eyes fluttering in a commercial. She could even find her way to Vogue someday. 

For all she knew, today could be the start of her big break.

—————

"Thank you for covering, Gabby!" 

As soon as (Y/N) stepped out into the makeshift break room in the alley behind the restaurant for her lunch break, the bubbly smile on her lips fell. Closing shifts always took the breath out of her, especially during the dinner rush on Friday nights like this. 

These thirty minutes away, hiding in the back alley at one of the small tables set up in lieu of a proper break room, was precious to her. Despite just how loud the restaurant was, the sound overspilling into the alley, the space was just removed enough to help her brain quiet down for the time being. As much as (Y/N) loved the way her body looked and the way her legs seemed to stretch on for miles when she slipped on high heels, there would never be anything that could rival the relieved feeling that came with slipping them off for even just a few minutes during this time away. 

Leaving her feet only loosely in her shoes, she didn't waste any more of her break time, pulling out her packed sandwich and the bottle of apple juice she brought for her dinner. She had tucked a small magazine into her purse, but the thought of adding anything extra to her head at the moment wasn't appealing. Instead, she listened to the overflow of conversation from the server's station just by the swinging door of the alley as if it were a program from her television set.

Just as usual, she heard some of her coworkers debating over if there were any familiar faces seated in the dining room for the night. It wasn't unusual for famous patrons to take a seat for dinner with them, though (Y/N) highly doubted Elizabeth Taylor was currently at the bar, but the debate of whether or not one of the waiters should approach her and ask if he could be in her next movie (or next husband) was enough to bring a smile to her face between her bites of dinner. 

By the time she emptied her bottle of apple juice and had her lunch reduced to a few crumbs, the server's station had been cleared out with the only noise of the kitchen filtering out to the alley and keeping her comfortable. Just as she moved to pack everything away, her ears perked at the sound of quick footsteps heading outside to join her. Peering over her shoulder, (Y/N) just caught the way Misty, one of the hostesses she was closer with, all but barreled out onto the pavement. 

It didn't take very long to spot the difference in Misty's demeanor with the way she didn't seem to notice (Y/N) was out there at all, instead immediately beginning to pace before the door with her heels clicking over the pavement. There must have been a conversation going on in her head with the way she flapped her hands before her like a talk show host, and the silent muttering of her lips. As far as (Y/N) knew, Misty's break wasn't scheduled for another hour, even. 

"Mist?" (Y/N) prodded in a gentle voice, "Is everything okay?" 

Stopping in her tracks with a stutter to her steps, Misty looked to her with wide brown eyes and a hand to her throat. "Oh my god, you scared me." 

"Sorry," (Y/N) offered with a cautious smile, "Are you okay? You seem really freaked." 

"Yeah," Misty said, though she was less than convincing with her response, "Did you see my sister came in?" 

(Y/N) nodded, looking up at her friend from where she sat at the wobbly wrought iron table. "Is she okay?" 

Misty's shaken demeanor shifted then as she rolled her eyes, heaving a big sigh. "She's fine," she started, irritated, "just stupid. We were supposed to go to this party tomorrow night in the hills, but she's bailing on me so she can meet up with her ex. They're going to 'work it out', apparently." 

"Wait, the one that cheated with your cousin?" (Y/N)'s brows furrowed, with her mouth dropping into a gape. It couldn't be that ex, right? 

"That's the one," Misty chirped, also less than impressed with her sister's choosing, "I know, she's being an idiot but not even my mom was able to talk her out of it. But, she was going to be my ride tomorrow, and go with me so I wasn't alone."

(Y/N)'s face fell when she heard how dejected Misty sounded. While she didn't know much about this party in "the hills", she was sure that hearing about her sister's reconciliation with a terrible ex—and that she would rather hang out with a cheater than Misty herself—was more than enough to get her down. 

"I'm sorry, Mist," (Y/N) said, her eyes softening with her lips falling into a pout, "It's not fair to leave you hanging like that." 

Settling some, Misty took the chair across from (Y/N) offering a small smile. "It's okay," she shrugged, "It's just frustrating. She knows this party is important to me, but she's going to go see some guy that cheated on her, instead." 

"That sucks," (Y/N) interjected, sure her friend wasn't looking for a solution more than she wanted to vent at the moment, "Is it a birthday party, or?" 

Misty shook her head, her long black hair wisping over her shoulder, "It's an industry party. One of my friend's has an older sister who works across the street from this office that has a bunch of these music people. Apparently there's a big party happening tomorrow night at some executive's house, and she was able to get me and my sister an invite, but now I don't know if I'm even going to be able to make it there." 

(Y/N)'s lips thinned, her eyes falling to the latticed surface of the table where she fiddled with the strap of her purse. An idea pinged through her head, though she was more than unsure of voicing it. 

She'd never been to an industry party before, but there was a first time for everything—especially if it meant she could help her friend. If she was lucky, there might be even a few people she could get to know, other models or someone that could help in her own dreams. 

"I—" she started, catching her tongue when she was unsure of her next words. Flicking her eyes up to Misty, where it was clear on her face just how hard she was thinking about whatever plan she could conjure for the next twenty-four hours, (Y/N) tried again. "Okay—um—stop me if I'm doing too much, but I... If you want, I could go with you? Just so you wouldn't be alone, and I could drive you up, and everything. I don't want you to miss this if you think you'll be able to meet someone that could help you with your singing, but don't feel like you have to take me. If you can't find anyone else, just know I'm willing." 

Feeling herself rambling, (Y/N) forced herself to zip her lips in favor of watching for Misty's reaction. 

"Wait, really?" Misty said, a bubbling lilt to her voice, "You'd drive and everything, even though it's kind of far away? You don't, like, work tomorrow or anything?" 

Her rapid fire questions did little to hide the light that sparkled in her eyes and the smile that crept on her lips. (Y/N) only shrugged, feeling herself light up. "I work tomorrow night, but I should be home with enough time to get ready as long as we don't have to be there too early." 

The giggling squeal that left Misty's lips had (Y/N) letting out her own laugh just before her friend reached for her hands across the table. "(Y/N)! Thank you so much—I would love to have you come with me! We're going to have so much fun, thank you!" 

(Y/N) felt herself perking up, matching Misty's energy as she squeezed her hands. "I'm so excited, thank you," she bubbled.

The dejection she came out with had melted away leaving room for her to be back to her bubbling, loud self that ran the front of the restaurant. "No, no, thank you! Really, there's going to be so many people there—important people—this could be really good for us. And now, we both get to go!" 

Despite feeling a little nervous, accepting an invite to a place she'd never been before along with the host being someone she had no real connection to, (Y/N) couldn't help but to feel a warmth in her stomach over the kind of luck she'd stumbled into tonight. While she was sure there was going to be majority of people from the music world in attendance—people who were going to be important to Misty and her dreams of having a singing career—there has to be at least a couple of people who knew someone who could help her encroach on her own modeling aspirations. 

The remainder of her lunch time (as well as Misty's impromptu break from her hostess duties) was spent ironing out the details of the next day. A to-do list came together in (Y/N)'s head, starting with raiding her closet as soon as she made it back to her apartment tonight, hoping she could find something in the back of the racks that might be suitable for the kind of party Misty was describing to her. She couldn't wait to force a map into Misty's hands to navigate them to the hills she kept mentioning.

"I heard there might be valet there, but I don't know if that's true or just something Angelica—" 

"(Y/N), do you know where Mist—Oh, there you are," Marcus, one of the waiters, said, popping his head out into the alley, "I know you took a fifteen, but we need your help." 

Misty deflated at the request of her presence, a pout itching to settle on her lips. "I'll be up in a second." 

"Okay. Molly's drowning right now, though, so be fast."

Before he could catch the roll of Misty's eyes, Marcus disappeared back into the bustling restaurant. 

Turning to (Y/N), Misty started for the door, standing from her spot across from her friend. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay? We'll figure out what we're wearing, and I'll tell you the exact address when I get the note back from my sister." 

"Okay," (Y/N) smiled, eyes following her friend as she approached the door, "Thank you again, Misty—I'm really excited." 

She paused in the doorway, one foot inside the restaurant with the other in the alley. "Me too. See you in there." 

With a wave, Misty slipped inside the restaurant leaving (Y/N) with a remaining five minutes alone. 

She quietly packed up with a smile on her face. By the time she slipped her feet back into her heels, the pain in her arches didn't feel so bad. 

For all she knew, tomorrow night could be the start of her big break.

—————

The waning summer sunlight reflected off the silver sequins decorating (Y/N)'s dress as she drove to Misty's. With the open back of the garment, the cool leather of the seat pressed into her back. The feeling had her hearkening back to the last few times she'd worn this dress, to a handful of auditions she went on before realizing that agencies didn't really want to see a cocktail dress on a potential employee at ten a.m. The patent white leather of her thigh high boots squeaked as she shifted in her spot, her eyes peering through the windshield at each passing street sign marking the unfamiliar neighbourhood. 

Coming to a slow stop at the curb, (Y/N) checked the map she had splayed on the passenger seat and the note with Misty's address half a dozen times, comparing it to the powder blue house she pulled up in front of. Hopefully, she'd made it to the right house. 

Putting the car in park, fluffing her hair one more time, (Y/N) stepped out onto the warm pavement. The sunset reflected pink across the silver of her dress, warming her skin as if she were under the flashes of dozens of cameras. 

Scaling the driveway to Misty's home, she had her eyes on the door, catching the way the knob spun before (Y/N) even made it to the porch. Misty waved to someone behind her, the length of her hair swishing at her waist as she spun around to face (Y/N) with a bright smile. A rich red dress hugged her figure, the halter top neckline framing the slide of her neck and the cut towards her cleavage. Her heels clicked with every step she took over the concrete towards (Y/N), glimmering makeup sparking on her eyelids. 

Misty forged ahead, pulling (Y/N) in for a giddy hug that had her wobbly in her boots. "Hi! How are you? Are you excited? You look so pretty!" 

(Y/N) laughed at the onslaught of questions, falling in line with Misty as she headed towards the car parked at the curb. "I'm good—excited! You look really pretty, too, thank you! I've never seen your hair down like this." 

To make a show of it, she flipped a hand through her hair with a smile on her lips. "Tonight could be the night, (Y/N)—had to pull out all the stops." 

Laughing, she followed after Misty as she started towards the car. Misty's confidence was contagious, enough to spread to (Y/N) as she settled in behind the wheel, sliding a pair of sunglasses on the line of her nose. 

As they drove towards the hills, a map splayed out in Misty's lap, they had the windows cranked down with the radio up. (Y/N) couldn't help but to sing along with the selection going through her speakers, ranging from the croons from The Zombies to belting tones from The Supremes. 

She was going to a party in the Hollywood Hills! A party where, if she's lucky enough, she could end up on the billboards they were driving past. Even if that didn't happen, she would still be fulfilling a part of her dream when she moved out here in the first place—getting to see places she'd only ever seen in movies or on the glossy pages of her magazines. 

"What do you think it's going to be like?" (Y/N) asked, shouting over the whipping wind and beats from James Brown. 

"Hm?" Misty hummed, looking back from where she had been gazing out the window, "The party?" 

"Yeah. You said there'll be lots of music kinds of people, right? Do you think we'll see anyone we know?" 

Misty shrugged, a beaming smile. "Maybe—hopefully! Angelica called me this morning and said there's supposed to be a lot of executives, so I don't know if we'll see any singers, but we'll meet the people who made the singers! How exciting is that?!" 

(Y/N), even through fleeting glances, could spot the excitement in Misty's gaze. While modeling (maybe even movies, if she was lucky enough) was (Y/N)'s dream, she was more than okay with being there for Misty as they rubbed elbows with the people that made possible all the music they were listening to now. 

In between giving directions, Misty happily chattered away about all of the different hopes she had for the soiree. Outside, the sun sunk low in the sky before disappearing by the time they entered the hills. The world around them changed from the lengths of highway to the beachy suburbs of the coast, all the way until the Hollywood Hills surrounded them. With the windows up and the radio ticked down just enough, both she and Misty left their attention to the gorgeous homes that now popped up around them like clean white roses. Everything was made of strategic, precise lines, creamy and bright against all of the greenery planted around them. Cars she'd only seen in movies were parked outside the garages, painted in pale colors with chrome accents that gleamed under the waning light. 

The sight reminded her of the Saturday morning episodes of the Jetsons she used to catch back at home as a girl. Seeing nothing more than the structures, she felt as if she were already meeting a handful of celebrities. 

After a final set of directions muttered off by Misty, (Y/N) turned onto a long stretching street. Before, while the houses were modern and clean, these were nothing short of extravagant. They were much further spaced out, gates planted before the driveways with plenty of greenery to help give even more privacy to whoever lived behind the walls. 

"It should be on the left, I think," Misty muttered, her own gaze glossed out as she took in the homes around them. 

(Y/N) silently nodded her head, pushing her sunglasses to sit on the top of her head. Peering to the left, she didn't have to peek at the numbers posted on the gates to know what home was where the party was being hosted. It was the only building with bright lights peeking through the greenery, reflecting through the darkening sky. While the rest of the street seemed to be luxuriating in quiet privacy, this one was beaconing those around them to come closer. 

"This one?" (Y/N) asked, slowing as they approached the open driveway. 

"This one," Misty smiled, giddy in her seat. 

Turning in, (Y/N) found the biggest mansion she could have imagined to be shrouded behind the palms and draping vines planted along the perimeter. It was just as pristine as the others they'd seen before, new and perfect, but on a scale she couldn't imagine knowing what to do with. A dome thatched in glimmering bronze bisected the mansion, a large window cut out on what had to be the third floor of the home, showcasing a crystalline chandelier for all to see. Creamy lines made out the rest of the structure, cookie-cutter windows giving glimpses into the spaces inside. More greenery made its way closer to the structure in the form of pruned hedges, climbing flower bushes, and postcard perfect palm trees. 

The rumor of there being valet at this soiree had turned out to be complete truth as (Y/N) drove further up the drive. Her hands grew clammy around the wheel. 

"What do I do?" she rushed out to Misty, taking her foot off the gas to buy herself time. 

"What do you mean? What?" Misty answered, knocked out of her own admiration of the space.

"The valet," (Y/N) said, slightly panicked, "Are they actually going to take the car?" 

Misty seemed to finally notice the man clad in a simple black outfit stationed at the front dome, bored as he peered at the slowly approaching car on the drive. "Oh. I don't know. Do you keep the car on or just give them the keys?" 

"I don't know," (Y/N) parroted, words bubbling off as she ran out of time the closer they drew to the dome, "I've never done this before!"

Before either of them had a chance to attempt to thread together a game plan, (Y/N) heavily stepped on the brake, stopping them at the front door. The valet made no move to greet them, standing at his station with a pleasant expression on his face as he waited. With clumsy movements, (Y/N) pulls her keys out of the ignition, and plucked her purse from beside her feet. Misty followed with the same amount of haste, both of them practically stumbling out of the car towards the waiting valet that looked on with surprise raising his brows. 

"Hi," (Y/N) greeted, just barely remembering the sunglasses pinning her hair back on her head. She snatched them off, tucking them into her purse. 

"Good evening, ladies," the valet responded, taking in their stumble, "How are you?" 

"We're alright, thank you," Misty piped up, peering around the valet to get a peek into the home behind him, "And yourself?" 

"I'm doing swell myself, thank you," he beamed, holding a hand out expectantly towards (Y/N), "How do you know the host?"

While he had a pleasant smile on his face as he took her keys, (Y/N) was sure he was well aware of how little they fit in within this space. She couldn't blame him for assuming there was a chance they weren't supposed to be here, if their stumbling and her less than trendy car was anything to go by.

"We work with him," Misty piped up, clearly preferring to bypass the roundabout way that she knew the host through three different people. 

"Oh, yeah?" he prodded, brows bouncing above his eyes, "At the office or the studio?" 

"The office," Misty clarified without a second thought. 

The valet took her answer with a slow nod, palming (Y/N)'s keys before asking for her name and bidding them a good night once they were on the list. With that, he left the double doors behind him unattended. Misty grabbed (Y/N)'s hand who stumbled into step beside her, her gaze shot over her shoulder to watch as the valet took in the vast difference between her car and the others he'd already attended to throughout the night. 

Pushing through the double doors, (Y/N)'s expectations for the inside of this mansion were blown out of the water. One of a kind art canvases were hung up on the walls, beautifully crafted vases and sculptures displayed through the halls, along with the extravagant chandelier hanging above their heads. This place felt straight out of a movie, perfect like a Normal Rockwell painting. 

The deeper Misty walked them through the space, she took in the overflow of guests spread throughout the home. She'd never seen so many different sitting rooms, with so many different people. In the main space just off from the foyer was cleared out, leaving space for a bar being professionally tended and room for plenty of young women to dance along to the records spinning on the player with drinks in hand. Too many older men were placed along the perimeter doing nothing more than watching them. 

"Um," Misty started, voice raised high enough to be heard over the different radios and gramophones playing, "I'm going to try to find my friend and her sister, and the host, but you don't have to come with me if you want to get a drink." 

(Y/N) didn't have to think before she steeled her grip on Misty's hand. There was no way Misty was going to be able to lose her that quickly. "No, I'll go with you." 

"Are you sure?" Misty asked, bouncing her brows above her eyes.

(Y/N) gave a nod, shooting her friend a look with a glance towards the men prowling around the young women. Misty seemed to catch her drift then, more than alright with (Y/N) tagging along. 

While Misty was on the lookout for familiar faces, (Y/N) was happily pulled along with her curious gaze spread out to every branching hallway and living area. While the room with the women dancing around was the life of the soiree, there were other areas that looked as if they were board meetings plucked right out of the city complete with men dressed in suits, lounging with cigars in smoky rooms. Trays with food were being passed about in the hands of staff dressed in similar all black outfits as the valet out front. 

She barely had a chance to settle her eyes on a single person or scene before something just as bright and bold called her attention away. Misty surged forward with their hands still clasped until they reached the glass door leading to the backyard. 

If she had thought the inside of the mansion was wild, not even the drunken bar room had anything on the backyard. 

With a shimmering pool setting the scene, there seemed to be a rule that only the prettiest of attendees were allowed in the grassy space. It only took a pair of steps out onto the patio for (Y/N) to feel like she had never actually seen Los Angeles before this moment. Her mouth was set agape as Misty dragged her along, heading towards a grouping of men (Y/N) barely glanced at when there was so much else around to steal attention. 

A bar was stationed outside as well, though it looked much less professional than what was inside. Whoever wanted a drink was free to grab whatever, including the whole bottle if they so choose, with no one to bat an eye. More than a few people floated about the pool, some fully clothed while others were covered with only the help of the refractions glowing through the water. Drunken conversations were held between those about the lip of the pool, some wobbling close to the edge though they only laughed when the stumbles occurred. 

Everything appeared entirely too glamorous to be real. The women's hair was too perfect, the men too picturesque. This was what shindigs in the Hills were like? 

Suddenly Misty's voice piped up, having taken the straight to the grouping of businessmen she had eyed as soon as they made it out the door. "Hi! Mr. Vitacoma?" 

Facing forward, (Y/N) watched as a tall man with broad shoulders turned around to face Misty, brows in a pinch. "That's me," he started, eyes visibly brightening when he took in who exactly it was that had approached him, "How can I help you?" 

Misty's bright voice became a mumble as she introduced herself, and thanked this man for hosting the party. A conversation started, Mr. Vitacoma asking how exactly they were connected and how she'd found herself at his soiree. From what she was collecting, this man was some kind of executive at a record label, tonight's party being a "just because" occasion, and of course, he was so happy to have such a beautiful woman like Misty in attendance. 

(Y/N) was vaguely aware of Misty's voice pattering on with confidence, though her attention was stitched elsewhere. The men around Mr. Vitacoma had gone quiet, impressed with Misty's gall to have approached their group in the first place. It was interesting to see these men as suits, the kind running the studios and labels instead of those in front of the cameras and microphones. 

One of them in particular had (Y/N) flicking her eyes away more than once, his face almost too pretty to look at for longer than a moment before needing a break. 

His bone structure was sharp, jawline cutting with high cheekbones, a layer of stubble creeping up his cheeks. From his profile, his nose was a perfect straight line; cinnamon colored freckles were dusted over the bridge, faint under the lowlight. His hair came in textured waves of dark brown, playing off of the bright green hue of his eyes. His white button up was undone, displaying the white undershirt pasted to his torso. Just the faintest peeks of different tattoos bled through the thin fabric, including the tips of a chest piece peeking over the neckline of his tank. A small peach colored, paisley printed silk scarf was hanging around his neck, untied through the wrinkles in the material made it clear it had been knotted earlier in the night. A pair of black pants were belted around his hips with a shimmering pinstripe running through the garment, playing off the ambient lighting through the backyard.

(Y/N) couldn't keep herself from following the line of his form. Broad shoulders and strong chest gave way to a tapered waist, each block of muscle visible through the cling of the top. 

By the time she dared to flit her eyes back up to his face, (Y/N) had to blink back her shock at finding the green lilypads of his eyes already trained right on her. A small smile touched at the corner of his mouth, amusement sparking across his graze. 

Feeling her skin heating, she was suddenly too aware of herself. She hadn't meant to glaze her eyes all over him, let alone be caught doing just that. Flicking her gaze away on instinct towards Misty still schmoozing over her executive, (Y/N) shuffled in her spot, patent leather of her boots squeaking. Her hands suddenly felt too empty, especially feeling his eyes still warming the side of her face. She didn't think before she had her hand reaching for her hair, searching for some kind of flyaway or anything out of place to play with, just before her fingers collided with her forgotten sunglasses. If there wasn't already enough embarrassment coursing through her system, the fact she had left her accessory messily holding her hair back could have been enough to have her melting on the spot. 

It wasn't bad enough she was caught ogling a stranger, she also had to have stray pieces of hair standing straight up on her head while she was at it. 

Fumbling around, she plucked the sunglasses from the top of her head and made to shove them into her purse. A breathy laugh sounded, so quiet she wouldn't have heard it over all the noise had she not been hyper aware of the man standing only feet away from her. 

Peeking up through the stray baby hairs falling in her face, (Y/N) saw the man with the peach scarf looking at her with an amused smile on his face, dimples in his cheeks with his green irises bright. He bounced his brows above his eyes when he caught her gaze, gesturing down to her stumbling hands and fingerprint laden glasses with a tip of his chin. 

(Y/N)'s blood burned under the apples of her cheeks. She could only sheepishly shrug, a shy smile on her lips in hopes of looking more nonchalant than she clearly was. 

Another small laugh plumed from him. Her shoulders relaxed some when she realized he wasn't making a joke of her, merely quietly teasing her over something only the two of them know about. A small inside joke was being threaded between them in the middle of the patio. 

Stepping away from the congregation, the man made a step towards (Y/N). Her heartbeat picked up in her chest. It would only take a few of his long strides to close to space between them. 

"This is (Y/N)," Misty chirped, tugging her forward and away from the stranger that had taken her attention. "My sister bailed, and (Y/N) stepped up to come with me tonight. I wouldn't be here if she didn't agree to come out here." 

A slight daze had (Y/N)'s attention split between the present and moments before. She gave a placid smile to Misty's executive, offering a hand out for him to shake. "Nice to meet you. Mr. Vitacoma, right?" 

He flashed (Y/N) a bright smile, offering his own greeting she barely paid attention to. Pleasantries were exchanged then, forcing her to play along as to not ruin this for Misty, though (Y/N)'s mind was decidedly stitched elsewhere. With every plastered smile and feigned attentive nod of her head, she could feel someone's—his—eyes on her. 

If it wasn't disrespectful, she would have already disengaged from Mr. Vitacoma and given her attention back to the man with the peach scarf. As much as she warmed under his gaze, still feeling a bit of that embarrassment after being caught so obviously ogling him, she was thrilled to have seen him attempting to approach her. 

She hoped she hadn't lost her chance to hear what kind of voice a man like that held, and what it may sound like wrapped around her name. 

Hearing the beginnings of Misty's laugh, (Y/N) immediately joined in, having missed completely what she was laughing at but playing along anyway. Taking advantage of the moment, she turned her head just enough in hopes of catching sight of the peach scarf man from around Misty's back. 

But, he was gone. Even with his height, she was unable to catch even a single swirl of his brown hair among the sea of the other executives congregating around them. 

Before she had much of a chance to mourn the chance that had come and gone to know anything about this man, a scream sounding from beside the pool had her turning around. Misty and Mr. Vitacoma barely registered the noise, only offering fleeting glances in that direction before she was back to her half-flirting, half-schmoozing. (Y/N)'s jaw dropped when she saw what exactly had screeched beside the pool.

A woman with voluminous blonde hair and a drunken smile on her face had stripped down, her dress and undergarments sitting in a pile on the grass, and was running straight towards the pool. Those around the pool with drinks in their hands cheered her on, encouraging her just before she took a leap and splashed straight into the water. As soon as she surfaced, makeup running with her hair deflated and pasted her face, another round of raucous cheers cracked through the backyard. 

Flitting her eyes around, (Y/N) expected to see others sharing her shock. Instead, she found people either not paying attention at all or smiling on as if this was nothing more than the scheduled entertainment for the night. While (Y/N) wouldn't consider herself a complete prude (she'd seen a few French films over the years, and they were certainly not for the pearl-clutchers back home), but she couldn't believe no one shied away at the sight of the woman's naked body. Was there a memo that Misty forgot to let her in on? 

Nonetheless, (Y/N) found herself unable to pull her eyes from the commotion that was beginning over by the pool. It was as if the woman's display had been a gun firing off, signaling the start of the real party now that the sun had dipped and only the most fun remained for the rest of the festivities. 

Those that had previously been lounging by the pool started up with their own soirees, some downing the rest of the drinks they had their hands before stripping and joining the woman in the pool, or plain watching on with heated looks on their faces. Even some men dared to strip down and join in, giving (Y/N) a sight she'd truly never seen before with her eyes going wide. Some of the couples she'd seen before had turned their attention to one another, lips and tongues meeting with reckless abandon. Blatant sexuality was put on show among the low lighting and the moon sparkling above their heads. Despite being in Los Angeles for a little over nine months, she'd never seen anyone behave this openly, acting as if there was no one else around other than those they wanted to see. 

The most jarring came in the form of a trio—two women and one man—squeezed together on a pool lounger. The man had his arms around both of the women, but had his head bent towards one, kissing her with gusto. The other woman, skin a sparkling bronze with a thick headband holding back her curly hair, caressed her manicured hands across the lines of the redhead's body. The man didn't leave his other companion without, it appeared, his own brawny hand sliding down the cuff of her shoulder until it was dangling over the swell of her breast before brushing his fingers over where the peek had been hidden behind her dress. (Y/N) could spot the curly haired woman whispering something to the kissing pair, something quiet enough just for the three of them to hear just before the redhead smiled into the kisses though the man refused to break the contact and dove harder into the redhead's mouth. The curly haired woman looked at them with hooded eyes, eye shadow shimmering under the moonlight, as she reached out and combed her fingers through waves of red hair, fisting the strands back and out of her friend's face with a stiff tug. A blush touched the redhead's cheeks.

They moved as if they were on film. The touches from the curly-haired woman moved harmoniously with each caress from the redhead over the man's muscled chest, as if perfected from a script. A director could have been sat feet away, camera trained in their direction with the way every ideal angle was shown off to the rest of the party. (Y/N) wouldn't have been surprised if this whole night was nothing more than a setup for some magazine, a photographer waiting for the perfect moment before jumping out with a camera and the perfect lighting. 

As soon as the curly-haired woman leaned across the man's chest and pressed a lingering kiss to the redhead's shoulder, a hoot sounded from one of the other onlookers in the backyard. It was then that (Y/N) remembered she wasn't the only one here, the only one watching. She had been seeing something like an editorial photoshoot with these people—a bit scandalous of a subject, but nonetheless boundary pushing—but the sound of a cheering comment had brought her back to the present to see this for what it was.

The artistic, pretty filter she had seen the moment in vanished, leaving what was gearing up to be much raunchier of a scene than she was sure any of her French films had shown. 

Whipping her head away when the strap of the redhead's dress was pulled down, (Y/N) turned to see Misty and Mr. Vitacoma conversing with no indication that either of them cared to know what was going on behind their backs. 

"Mist," (Y/N) murmured, feeling only a little bad to be interrupting, "I'm going to go get a drink inside, okay?" 

Misty gave her a nod with a small smile. "Okay, I'll come find you later." 

With that, (Y/N) gave Misty and her executive a parting nod before scurrying away to head back inside, her eyes staying on her feet and nowhere near the pool. 

It was with a sigh of relief that (Y/N) closed the door behind herself. While there was much more commotion and bodies surrounding her inside the mansion, it was decidedly less pressure than whatever it was going on out there. Though she was alone this time around, which wasn't something she thought about until a group of men in suits passed her by, a few offering appreciative glances in her direction. 

This place seemed much bigger without Misty at her side. 

Meandering through the throngs of people and the puddles of liquor on the floor, (Y/N) wasn't sure where she was going, only that the closer she was to the backyard, the more clinging the atmosphere seemed to be. There were plenty of people around her, some with clear influence that she was sure she should have been using this opportunity to get to know, just like Misty brought her here for, but she continued on with no clear destination in mind. 

She didn't feel comfortable inserting herself in the cigar room, not when the men had poured out whiskey and the smoke had turned into something heavier. More faces littered the halls, getting more and more packed the darker the night grew. Sticking close to the walls, (Y/N) couldn't help the owlish blinks that fluttered her lashes as she took in the raucous patrons of the party. She was well aware of the parties and the night clubs that livened up downtown LA, but she never figured something like that could fit between the walls of someone's home. 

Inadvertently, she found herself approaching the first room she had Misty had spotted, full of women her age dancing and having fun with a bartender slinging drinks faster than the records spinning. While she wasn't exactly comfortable, this room felt a lot easier to wade through as opposed to the faux board meeting going on in the other with all of the smoking men. 

Keeping company with the fridges of the room, (Y/N) had the lingering thought that maybe she wasn't cut out for this kind of industry. Whether it be modeling or becoming a movie star, she figured she should be able to make conversation with practical strangers instead of marinating in her own excitement all by herself. A real model—a confident star—would have found the spotlight without hesitation and made a group of friends and connections that would land her somewhere even more glamorous than this mansion in the Hills. 

Instead, (Y/N) was stationed somewhere between the record player and the suede couch pushed against the walls, tucked out of the way and listening into the conglomeration of all of these conversations. 

Out of seemingly nowhere, a woman with towering dark hair and a sleek black dress entered her field of vision. She wore a bright smile and eyes that were a bit glossy, red veins spidering over her sclera. 

"Are you friends with Misty?!" she shouted, maybe a bit too loud even with the record player and sound system so close. 

Taken aback, a whiff of heavy liquor radiating from this girl's breath, (Y/N) gave a small nod. "Yeah, we work together." 

"That is so fun! I work with her sister, Angelica! Where is she?" The girl stumbled some on her heels, reaching out for (Y/N)'s shoulder to keep herself steady. 

"Angelica is seeing a friend tonight, so she couldn't make it," (Y/N) started, stifling her laughter over this woman's sudden friendship with her, "And, Misty's outside talking to some record label guy." 

Her mouth fell open, dark lashes fluttering. "Come hang out with me and my friends! You shouldn't be alone at a party like this! Oh my god, and you need a drink!" Every sentence tumbling out of this woman's mouth broadened (Y/N)'s smile. Other than some rowdy patrons at the restaurant, she wasn't around many drunk people, especially none this excitable. A gasp fell from her lips, stopping herself in her teetering heels with her hand clutched around (Y/N)'s shoulder. "Wait, what's your name?" 

"I'm (Y/N)," she smiled, "What's your name?" 

"Marguerite! Now, do you want to take shots or do you want an actual drink?" 

(Y/N) followed after Marguerite with a bubbling smile. She hoped she would be able to find her spotlight now. 

—————

Twirling in her boots, (Y/N) tossed her head back with her eyes closed. She could vaguely feel the condensation from the drink in her hand, glass slick in her hand. By the time she opened her eyes, dropping back into the moment with the group of women that had adopted her for the night, she couldn't figure out if the room was spinning because of her wiring or if it was her drinking. 

From working at the restaurant, and knowing enough bartenders through her journey of becoming known, she knew most bartenders tended to water drinks down to keep people coming for more and giving some hefty tips, but it didn't seem this man had received that memo. These cocktails were heavy, full of sour heat as soon as it touched her tongue before being doused out by the collection of juices and citrus mixed throughout. Initially, she had turned down taking shots with Marg and her friends, but she figured she could have just done that and made it to the same state she was currently in. 

But, that didn't matter. Anything from a couple of hours ago, no longer mattered. What mattered now was how each song she heard was now her favorite, every cocktail she tried was the best she'd ever had, and these girls were undoubtedly the best friends she'd ever had. (Y/N) was almost certain she'd never been this drunk before. 

A night of firsts, she figured; first networking opportunity she'd ever gone to, and the first time she'd been drunk enough that her heart and the record player in the corner were made of the same rhythms. 

She'd have to find her spotlight another time, it appeared. 

Suddenly, the weight of someone's hand settled on the small of her back. Seeing her friends—albeit a bit blurry—in front of her, she couldn't imagine who exactly would be comfortable enough to place their hands on her. 

Whirling around, the hem of her dress fluttering around her thighs, (Y/N) saw an unfamiliar face looking down at her. His hair was black like his suit, slicked back with enough product to make the strands appear wet. His eyes were just as dark and glassy, with the sclera full of red veins. 

It was a distant memory, from a version of herself that was sober and no longer here, (Y/N) remembered the men that had strategically placed themselves about the room in order to gain the perfect vantage point to watch the women drinking and socializing as if they were a show on the television set. None of them had been so bold to approach anyone yet, but it only took a quick glance towards Marg and the others to see this must have been a team effort, everyone a touch distracted by these unfamiliar men. 

"Hi, sweet thing," this man murmured, dipping his head unnecessarily close to her ear, "Having fun?" 

"Um—" 

"(Y/N)?" 

Snapping away from this man, (Y/N) clutched her drink. A breath of relief touched her lungs when she saw it was Misty who had called to her. She looked just as pristine as when they had arrived, dress still clinging to her form, hair perfectly straight without a strand out of place. (Y/N) doubted her lipstick was anywhere near as perfect as Misty's still was. 

"Mist! You're back!" (Y/N) cheered, grateful to be dismissing the man in favor of wrapping Misty in an enthusiastic hug. "Are you a singer now?!" 

Misty shot her a bubbling smile, the corners twitching as if she was trying not to be as happy as she currently felt. "I might be," she muttered, sheepish, "I have a meeting—a real one—with Mr. Vitacoma tomorrow morning. I need to get home so I can sleep at least a little before I head to the office." 

(Y/N) blinked, arms going limp around Misty. "Now?" 

"Yeah," Misty nodded, mind obviously elsewhere, "Do you have your stuff?" 

"Um," (Y/N) prattled, suddenly aware of her bag hanging from her elbow, "Yeah, but... I don't know, Mist. I'm kind of really drunk, I think." 

Misty seemed to suddenly take note of her friend's state and the cold drink in her hand. "Wait. How many drinks have you had?" 

"Three, I think," (Y/N) started, unwittingly beginning to sway to the new song that had started playing through the space, "But they're really strong." 

Fitting her bottom lip between her teeth, Misty's face twisted into worry. "You don't think you can drive, right now? It's almost two." 

Opening her mouth, (Y/N) felt like a guppy when she stood there and no words came. While she was far from sober, she was definitely beginning to feel the gravity of what Misty needed from her. She had a terribly exciting meeting set up for tomorrow morning, a real sit down with Mr. Vitacoma that would make her one of the voices etched into a vinyl. Misty had no idea how to drive, so (Y/N) needed to get her home before the sun started on the horizon. 

"I—um—hold on," she said, dropping her drink to sit on a random surface, "I think I need some air, and after that I can drive us home. Do you know if there's any food around?" 

Misty, working on one problem at a time, clutched (Y/N)'s hand and started towards the backyard. It was a deja vu moment, (Y/N) absently wondering what the grassy area had devolved into through the hours she had been inside. 

"Get some air, and I'll try to find some bread or something," Misty thought out loud, pushing open the glass door with their shoes clicking over the cement patio. 

The world spun a bit too fast for (Y/N) to catch anything going on around the pool, allowing her to simply follow after Misty as best she could in the boots that suddenly felt less than stable now that she wasn't dancing. Like a wobbly shadow, (Y/N) stayed close to Misty as she rounded to the side of the house, out of the way of the distant splashing and cheering from the pool. 

"Are you okay to stay right here?" Misty asked, stopping (Y/N) on a soft patch of grass between the main home and shed field with whatever it took to maintain lawns of this size. From here, she could spot the height of the trees that had welcomed them when they made it here hours earlier. 

(Y/N) nodded her head, sinking to sit down on the cool grass. "Where are you going?" 

Misty looked at her with wide eyes, bottom lip being chewed between her teeth. "To get you something to eat. And, water, probably." 

"Oh yeah," (Y/N) bubbled, a plume of laughter falling from her lips, "I'll be okay, I think." 

Her friend hesitated for a moment, steps starting and stopping with one more look at (Y/N) in the safety of the secluded space before starting off for the house. Left by herself with her bare legs laid in the cool blades of grass and the sky clear above her, (Y/N) took in deep breaths. 

Without smoke and thick humidity clogging the air, she was allowed a reprieve. Sitting here, she didn't feel all that drunk, but she doubted she would feel that stable if she made a move to stand up. Hopefully, whatever Misty found inside would help her get back on track, make it so she could have Misty home before the night had ended. 

Pulling her knees to her chest, (Y/N) tried to concentrate. She wanted her mind to slow, her gaze to even, and her body to feel like her own again. She couldn't drive like this, she knew, but Misty was relying on her. (Y/N) needed to figure out how to get this alcohol out of her system in record time. 

It was a frustrating goal, one she knew was going to be impossible to achieve when she couldn't get her gaze to focus on a miniscule chip in the white paint of the shed before her. Her gaze moved like the liquor that had sloshed in her glass inside. 

Was she going to have to drive like this? Would they even make it back if she did that? 

She hadn't realized her eyes had grown wet, tears puddling in her waterline until her sight ws that much more unreliable. She was frustrated and nervous, pressure coming from the fact that without a miracle, she was going to have to make sense of wavy lines while driving her friend home to prepare for the meeting of a lifetime. 

(She wasn't a perfect driver, anyway. She doubted she'd be much better when she wasn't one hundred percent sober). 

"Hey, are y'alright?" 

Whipping her head up, (Y/N) caught only a glimpse of the new guest of her spot before wincing. Moving the fast wasn't a good idea if she was working on getting her vision to quit swimming. 

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," she stuttered, cracking her eyes open just enough to find the vague lines of who was standing before her, "I'm drunk." 

A breathy laugh filled the air. One (Y/N) knew—had been hyper aware of just hours ago. 

Blinking her eyes open, her vision having settled, she saw the man with the peach scarf. Right in front of her with the pretty green of his eyes trained on her, moonlight seeping through the swirls of his hair. 

He was British. Interesting. 

"Do y'want something to drink? It might be a good idea to eat something, too." The sharp planes of his face softened out, rounding with dimples in his cheeks and a kind smile curving his lips. 

"My friend, she's already grabbing so-something for me," she hiccuped, "You met her kind of; she was talking to your friend." 

Crouching to sit at her level, the man nodded his head. "She's something," he laughed, "Not many people come up to John like that. She has a meeting with him in the morning, right?" 

(Y/N) nodded her head, squinting when her vision when spiraling once more. "Yeah, so I need to drive her home, but I think I'm still drunk. She's getting me some water, and then we have to go." 

This man's reaction came in the form of a pinch settling between his brows, lips thinning. "She doesn't want to drive?" 

"She doesn't know how," (Y/N) clarified.

He didn't seem to like this extra information much more. His tone was gentle when he spoke again, everything softened in this accent she'd only ever heard on television. "I don't know if 's a good idea for y'to be driving tonight. Maybe, we can go inside and see if there's anywhere y'can sleep for the night." 

Reaching a broad hand out for her to take, he looked at her with encouraging eyes. (Y/N) shook her head. "I can't. She has that meeting in the morning and I have work tomorrow, we-we can't stay. I just need some water, and then I'll be okay." 

A heaved sigh fell from his lungs. "I don't think that's how it works, love." 

Before she could make heart eyes over the pet name he laid over her, (Y/N) saw a familiar form rounding behind her new friend. 

"(Y/N)? I've got your water. How are you feeling?" Stepping around the man with the peach scarf, Misty had water and what looked to be a glass of dry cereal in her hands. She gave a sidelong glance towards the man that was not there the last time she'd seen her friend. 

Lagging in response, (Y/N) blinked up at Misty. "I'm good—so much better! Let's go!" 

Just as she put on her performance with an attempt to get to her feet, her flimsy cover was blown as soon as she stumbled into Misty with her arms pinwheeling at her sides. With her hands full, Misty offered an arm towards (Y/N) to brace herself, but it was the man with the peach scarf that steadied her before she had a chance to fall flat on her face. He reached towards her, settling his palms on her shoulders with (Y/N) touching his chest over the thin material of his top. 

"(Y/N)!" Misty bubbled, eyes wide.

Blinking up at the man with her lashes fluttering around her uneven gaze, (Y/N) took in the sight of him with the moon acting as a halo behind his head. 

Was her mouth agape? Was she still touching him? Was she unbelievably drunk, or was the rest of the world a blur, except for him? 

"Are y'alright?" he murmured, concern dripping from his words. 

Back on earth, (Y/N) shook herself away from the man, their hands dropping to their sides though she swore she could still feel the creases of his palms and length of his fingers around her shoulders. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she insisted, turning her gaze towards Misty, "Sorry, just—hold on, I can take us home, just give me a second." 

Both Misty and the man gave her less than impressed looks. 

He was the first to move, looking towards Misty with a bounce to his brows. "Misty, right?" 

Despite (Y/N)'s clear favoring of him, Misty didn't knock the suspicious accusations from her eyes. "Yes. Why?" 

He shot her that dazzling smile, dimples and all. "I know y'have an appointment with John tomorrow morning, but she's not going to be well enough to drive tonight. It wouldn't be safe to head home before she's had a chance to sleep this off." 

Misty's shoulders dropped at the serious tone he served her. "But... I can't—We can't stay. I have to go home to get ready for that meeting, and she has to go to work." 

Pursing his lips, the man settled his hands on his hips as the gears in his head began to turn. "Where's home?" 

Even in her muddled head, (Y/N) could see the reluctance Misty held when she gave the general area they came from. 

He gave her a nod, lips still thinned. Peering through his lashes, he looked at Misty before offering a fleeting glance towards (Y/N). "I can take y'both home. I haven't had anything to drink tonight." 

Walls back up immediately, Misty gave an uncertain stare, brows pinched. She didn't have to say anything for man to start offering an alternative, (Y/N) letting out a plume of laughter. 

"Or, I can call a taxi? I can't guarantee anyone will be available, or how quick they'd make it out, but 'm more than happy to pay for it." Sincerity lit up his eyes. 

Misty didn't immediately have an answer, taking her turn to think over the direction the night had taken. The silence left (Y/N) a chance for the alcohol to wipe her own thoughts over the dilemma, her attention instead shifting to lay fully on the man that stood before her. 

Maybe it was the vodka shining in her eyes, but she swore something angelic began to shimmer from the edges of him. He really was so pretty, (Y/N) thought. Earlier hadn't just been the product of an excitable mind seeing a bunch of important people for the first time since her cross-country move, he really was gorgeous. 

Did he know that? Were enough people telling him that? Should she tell him? 

For the second time that night, she was caught staring at him. A twitching of a smile touched at the corner of his mouth, his eye dropping into a wink. 

She couldn't help herself, her own features brightening and molding into something giddy. She didn't need Misty to tell her what the best option was out of the two this man had presented, (Y/N) already had her favorite picked out. 

"You'd really t-take us home?" (Y/N) hiccuped through her smile, clasping her hands in front of her middle. 

"If that's what you'd prefer," he drawled, amusement dancing over his features as he took in her reaction. 

Before he could send a precursory glance towards Misty once more, (Y/N) piped up, "I prefer that! Please." 

A small plume of laughter fell from his lips at her outburst, Misty even taking a peek in her direction with a raised brow and half smile. 

"Please, Mist," (Y/N) pleaded, a bright smile on her face, "Isn't he so nice?"

Another small glance towards the man was given by Misty. "What's your name? I'm not getting in someone's car when I don't know their name." 

"'M Harry," he smiled, "And John is a good friend of mine, and he'd kill me if I messed up his schedule tomorrow by not getting you two home." 

"And, you're not crazy, right?" 

Another set of dimples touched his cheeks. "Not as far as I know." 

"Fine," Misty settled, "Thank you, Harry." 

"Thank you, Harry," (Y/N) parroted, a little too excitable.

Both Misty and Harry helped guide (Y/N)'s stumbling steps through the mansion, the water and cereal Misty grabbed for her being left behind as they made their way through the halls. More than once, she had the privilege of getting a touch from Harry's large hand on her arm or between her shoulder blades when her balance teetered.

He led them through the mansion and to the valet where a different attendant now stood at the station. Harry gave the man a small nod before taking them sharply away from the bank of cars that had been valeted out of the way, out of the way to a glossy forest green Cadillac. 

(Y/N) gaped in awe. She'd seen plenty of nice cars while living out here, but she'd never thought anyone actually drove them—not anyone real, like Harry, anyway. 

Harry made to stand by the passenger side, holding open the back door for them to slip inside. "This is yours?" she asked, "Like, you drive it and everything?" 

"I do, yeah. Like it?" 

"The color is really pretty," (Y/N) shared, holding back the detail that it reminded her of the flecks of darker hues in his eyes. 

"Thank you," he smiled.

Misty guided (Y/N) into the backseat then, following in to sit beside her a moment later. An amused look was on her friend's face. "You're a flirty drunk, huh?" 

"Am I?" (Y/N) bubbled. Was it terribly obvious she thought Harry was pretty?

"A little," Misty laughed just as Harry took his own spot behind the wheel. "But, it's alright. It's good for you—you don't do it enough." 

"Jus' straight home, right ladies?" 

"Yes, please." Misty reached ahead where a folded map was sitting on the bench of the passenger seat. "Do you want me to give directions?" 

Harry shrugged off the offer, "I think I've got it. Y'jus' keep an eye on her." 

Looking forward, into the rearview mirror, (Y/N) caught Harry's eyes on her, creases touching the corners as a smile spread over his lips. 

—————

"Bye, Mist. Call me tomorrow, please. I want to know how your meeting goes." 

"I will," Misty murmured, giving (Y/N) a tired hug before she started inching towards the door, "When you get home, eat something and have some water before you go to sleep. And take off your makeup." 

As much as (Y/N) wanted to stick to Misty's instructions, she knew herself well enough to know that those words had gone right through her. Nonetheless, she nodded her head. "Okay. Love you." 

"Love you, too." Pushing the door open, Misty took a glance over her shoulder towards Harry in the front seat, who was fiddling with the radio dials on the dashboard. "Thank you for driving us home, Harry. I'm happy you aren't crazy." 

"Me too," he smiled, turning to face her, "'M happy I could get y'home safely. Let me walk y'up." 

(Y/N) watched as Harry escorted her friend up to her front door, giving her a perfect view of all of the lines of his body. Being cramped up in his car almost made her forget the full length of his height. As if there wasn't enough she would be thinking about once she was at her apartment. 

Taking his seat back in the front seat once Misty was inside safely, Harry turned to look at (Y/N) over the bench seat. "Wanna sit up here with me? Or are y'comfortable back there?" 

She didn't even have to think before she was scrambling to make her new spot at his side. "I wanna sit with you." 

Although she'd never thought of herself as particularly funny, Harry seemed to think she was hilarious. Everything she said drew a laugh out of him. 

Nonetheless, she hopped out of the backseat and found her new spot up in the passenger side of the bench seat beside Harry. Turning the key in the ignition, he pulled away from the curb of Misty's house before shooting a quick glance towards (Y/N).

"Want to find some music for us? I can only listen to the same advertisements so many times, you know," Harry prompted, nodding to the radio with a dip of his chin. 

"The McDonald's one is the worst," (Y/N) bubbled, reaching over to play with the dials, "It's always on." 

Harry agreed with a hum, following the directions Misty had given before she left for the night to head towards (Y/N)'s apartment. "What kind of music do y'like?" 

"Anything fun," (Y/N) offered, shooting him a bright smile, "But, I really love The Zombies right now." 

Perking up at her words, Harry glanced at her as he came to a stop sign. "The Zombies? What's your favorite song?" 

(Y/N) couldn't help the bubbling of conversation that sprouted from her lips then, the radio dials left behind in favor of talking with Harry. He was the perfect listener, even while he was carefully getting her home, she didn't doubt he was listening in. More than once, she wasn't sure if he was only being kind given the fact she was bubbly with alcohol, but he encouraged her ramblings, feeding her his own opinions and asking her what she thought. (Y/N) could have stayed curled up in this space for much longer than the short ten minutes between her apartment and Misty's home. 

By the time he pulled up to her apartment building, (Y/N) almost wanted to pout. 

Only the hum of the engine sounded as he paused in his seat, pulling his wallet from the pocket of his trousers. Casualy, he thumbed through the bills he had ticked inside the leather, grabbing more than (Y/N) would make in tips even during a busy Friday night shift at the restaurant. He passed the wad off to her.

"Use this to take a taxi to get your car tomorrow," Harry instructed, giving her a soft smile, "I know y'didn't really plan on leaving it overnight, so I'd like to take care of the drive back for you." 

(Y/N) hesitated. "Are you sure? That's kind of a lot." 

He shrugged, "'S my fault y'left it. I don't mind." 

Gingerly, she pulled the cash out of his hand. "Are you going to be there tomorrow?" 

"Probably not," he smiled, another laugh from his lungs. 

Juxtaposing his amusement, the beginnings of a pout touched her lips. "So, I won't see you again." 

"Not tomorrow," he clarified, raising a brow, "But, maybe soon." 

Just like he did for Misty, Harry walked (Y/N) up to the door of her building, keeping her from stumbling up the stairs that led to the glass door. 

"You're alright to get up by yourself, or do y'want me to go with you?" 

As much as she would have liked to get him to spend a handful of minutes more with her, (Y/N) shook her head. He'd done a lot for her tonight already. "I'll be okay, but thank you. For everything tonight. You kind of saved the day for Misty. 

"'S easier this way," he smiled, "And much more fun than trying to kick people out of the house with John doing nothing to help." 

"Is he your best friend?" (Y/N) asked, stalling a bit despite her better judgment. 

"A little," Harry said, lifting his shoulders in a shrug, "But he definitely doesn't have as good of taste in music as y'do." 

Much like the first time she spotted him this evening, (Y/N) felt her skin warm at his words. "If you get a chance to listen to that album, let me know what you think." 

"I definitely will, love. But, you've got to get to bed first." 

"Right," she said, attempting to sober up with a nod, "Thank you again." 

"Of course, (Y/N). Goodnight." 

Harry waited until she was safely inside, where she went on to practically float up the stairs with the sound of his accent wrapped around her name echoing in her head. Now in the quiet of her apartment, among her things, the bubbling excitement she'd felt throughout the evening simmered down to a dreamy haze. 

She'd had one of the most fun nights she'd had since moving to the city, and it ended with her being taken care of by one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen. After tugging off her boots, she pulled out the cash he'd given her, counting out the abundant amount of bills he'd passed off to her. Thumbing through them, she stopped when she reached the middle of the wad, where a thick white business card was tucked between. 

Separating the cash from the card, (Y/N) flipped it over to find black script printed over the paper. 

Harry Styles. 

She didn't even try to bite back the wide smile touching her lips.

—————

brigitte bardot, model, actress, and singer; a timeless icon of the 60's

ahhhhh! so happy to finally share this little part of bardot with you guys! once again this is a patreon exclusive with every part after this one only being available on my page! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any fun ideas please send them in!!!

[hongjoongtime117]

Brats and Backtalk

Pairings: Multiple pairings

Genre: SMUT (MDNI 18+)

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: multiple partners, unprotected sex (wrap it up pleaseeeee!), pet names (Kitten, angel, sweetheart, good boy/girl, pretty boy/girl, handsome, baby), multiple orgasms, rough sex, pierced and tattooed Hongjoong, choking, Hongjoong has a Captain kink, everyone’s a brat, oral (F/M receiving), I’m sure there’s a lot more, and if you feel something needs to be tagged, please let me know!

Summary: The four of you finally get together, without the phones

Taglist: @kihyuns-military-wife @ghostlovesworld @arki-sha

About a month had passed since the very spicy game night, and with everyone’s jammed packed schedules, it had been difficult to get together again to follow up on the promise of the four of you together.

Wooyung and San have plans for the night to go out with their friends Yunho and Yeosang. So when Hongjoong texted you that he was heading out of the studio at a somewhat decent hour, you invited him over, hoping to spend some very needed time together.

‘As if I’d ever turn that down. I’m on my way’ was the reply you received almost immediately.

A half an hour later, you hear a rhythmic knock at the front door. You jump up from your bed to rush to the front door, but San has already beat you to it.

“Hey Joong, nice to see ya!” San steps aside to let him in. You and Wooyoung join him a moment later as Hongjoong toes off his sneakers.

Wooyoung gives an appreciative whistle at Hongjoong. “Ok, Joong, showing some leg!”

“Ah, yeah, it was a lazy day at the studio today. I didn't actually have to work so I didn’t bother dressing the part,” he says, chuckling at Wooyoung’s rowdiness.

Once you’re able to get a full view of Hongjoong with San and Wooyoung out of the way, you thoroughly check him out. The black tank top, showing off his beautiful artwork, his muscular arms, and his damn pecs, and you can see his nipple piercings through the thin fabric. The cut off denim shorts, showing off his thick legs that you are desperate to sink your teeth into. Or be between. Whichever comes first.

Hongjoong looks you up and down and giggles, as you two are unexpectedly matching. Black tank top, showing just the right amount of cleavage, and cut off shorts, hugging your ass just right. Hongjoong pulls you in for a tight hug and grabs your ass and kisses your neck.

“God, I missed you,” his breath tickling your skin.

“I missed you more.”

“Hmmm, is that so? You’ll have to prove it to me,” he says in a playful tone.

“Alright you two lovebirds, get a room!” Wooyoung taunts as he shuts the door.

Hongjoong releases you from his embrace to grab your hand and beings pulling you towards your room. “You heard the man. Come on, baby.”

Once in your room, you both settle on your bed and catch up on life from the last month. You go more in depth on the conversation of where your relationship stands. You’ve found out that Hongjoong’s sex life was much more interesting than you had originally thought.

The friend circle between Hongjoong, Wooyoung, and San had all been hooking up with each other for a while. While there were ‘couples’, as long as it was between any of the eight of them, it was allowed. You and Hongjoong talked about the possibility of adding you into the group of eight. With the boy’s busy schedules and your long hours, you didn’t immediately shoot down the idea.

The last month without Hongjoong had been torture for your insatiable sex drive. So the thought of being able to be with someone deemed safe by Hongjoong in his absence gave you a thrill. Being able to ‘quench your thirst’ with a variety of options was exciting to you. Of course, Hongjoong would be allowed the same, and if schedules allowed, there was definitely room to explore more than one option at a time.

“Have you given any more thought to our talks? I don’t want to pressure you into anything, and I only want you to agree to this if you’re comfortable. If not, we can keep things exclusive. Just you and I. I’ve already talked with the boys before I even brought it up to you, and they are definitely into the idea.”

“You think your jealousy can handle sharing me with seven other men, Joong?” you raise your eyebrows at him.

“I mean, I don’t love the idea, exactly. But if I’m fucking around with all of them, I can’t exactly tell you that it’s not ok for you to do so also. Life is just hectic sometimes, and I’m not always going to be able to take care of your needs, the same way you can’t always take care of mine. I’d rather know you're being taken care of by one, or more, of my boys that I trust, rather than randomly hooking up. Plus, everything goes through me first, and I’ll give you that same respect.”

“I actually really enjoy the thought, and think it would be fun and interesting. Of course I would prefer you, or you and a combination of the others, but I’m fully on board with this idea.”

Hongjoong’s phone lights up with a text.

“Aish, they’re shit out of luck tonight. I’ve got more important things to tend to.”

“And who might ‘they’ be?”

“It’s Seonghwa, Mingi, and Jongho. I’ve told you about them. They wanted me to go out for drinks tonight. You’ll meet them sooner or later. They’re a blast!”

A fake pout crossing your lips as you wrap your arms around his middle from behind, you tease, “I mean, you can ditch me to go pick up people at the bar.”

“Y/N, don’t be fucking ridiculous.” He leans back into you, effectively laying you down underneath him as he removes your hands and flips himself over to settle over top of you, placing kisses onto your neck. “The only ones I want are you and the boys. I’m plenty satisfied with that.”

“So who is your favorite out of the boys?” curiosity heavy in your voice.

He stops his kisses and sighs into your skin. He pulls himself back to make eye contact with you. “You’re really asking me to choose? I can’t do that. They each fill a role for me. Or me for them. San and Yeosang are whatever I need them to be at that moment. Seonghwa comes to me when he needs a break from Dom life and needs to recenter. Clearly Woo frequently needs to be put in his place, so I am a Dom to him, in addition to San. And as for Yunho and Mingi, they’re who I go to when I need a break and need to let someone else take control for a while. Jongho is very reserved and I’m not sure he’s been with anyone in the group if I’m being honest. I think there’s someone, but no one pries.”

“That’s a lot more involved than I thought. I just thought ya’ll fucked, and that was that,” you say, sounding more surprised than you intended.

Just as you finish your sentence, there’s a knock on your bedroom door. Not having locked it, since even if things got heated between you and Hongjoong, (it was definitely going to), it’s not like the other two hadn’t watch Hongjoong fuck you within an inch of your life, you holler for whoever it was to enter.

San and Wooyoung head over to join the two of you on the edge of the bed. “Hey, so, uhhh. Our plans with Yunho and Yeosang fell through. They had something come up.” You can tell San is a little disappointed.

“You look pretty bummed, Sannie. But uh, that leaves the four of us. Free. Together. In the same house. We can make good on our promise,” Hongjoong suggests.

“I’m not going to lie and say that that doesn’t sound like a better plan than what we had planned with Yunho and Yeo,” Wooyoung deadpans.

“We had actually just finished talking about you two and the rest of the boys. I tried asking Joong who his favorite was, but instead I got a breakdown of you all,” your tone amused. “Joong, what do you need Sannie to be for you tonight?” you giggle, wanting to know where this night is heading.

“Sannie is gonna be a good little bottom for me tonight. Aren’t you, handsome?” He reaches over to place two fingers under San’s chin as they exchange glances.

“Sorry, Captain. Not really in the mood for bottoming tonight. You’d have to fight me for it,” he spits.

Hongjoong drops his hand and raises an eyebrow at the challenge. “That can be arranged, San.”

You and Wooyoung share an ‘oh shit’ look with each other as Hongjoong stands up and makes his way past the both of you to San.

“You two, over there,” he points to the small sofa a few feet away, against your bedroom wall, but facing the bed. “I need all the room I can get to deal with San and the mouth he has on him tonight.”

You both are immediately on your feet and heading to your designated spot, entangling yourselves together to watch the showdown between the other two.

Hongjoong aggressively pushes San backwards onto the bed, and straddles him while simultaneously using one hand to pin his hands above his head. He uses the other to grip San’s face rather hard. With a well intended grind of his hips that makes San’s dick twitch, he questions him. “So, how do we fix this smart mouth of yours, hmm?”

“Better yet, how do we fix yours, Joongie?” San uses his body strength to flip Hongjoong over underneath him, and Hongjoong wraps his legs around San to steady himself from the unexpected flip. His hands mimic the same position he was in under Hongjoong. Hongjoong audibly gasps at the change of roles.

“What do you have to say now, Captain?” his tone condescending. “You’re so pretty underneath me like this.”

Hongjoong uses every ounce of strength and the help of his legs wrapped around San to overpower him and yet again land himself on top. “You wish, handsome.”

“Oh come on, Joongie. You and I both know you want me in that tight little ass.” San places his hands on Hongjoong’s waist and grinds him against his hardening cock.

Hongjoong throws his head back with a groan at the friction and San runs his hands under Hongjoong’s tank top and plays with his sensitive, pierced nipples. “Fuck you, Choi San,” Hongjoong hisses.

“Oh, no, no. It’s going to be me who’s fucking you, Kim Hongjoong. You’re going to sit here on my cock and tell me you don’t want it, pretty?” San coos with a roll of his hips against the grind he’s set Hongjoong into.

“I can’t fucking stand you, do you know that?” Hongjoong said through clenched teeth.

“Good thing you’re sitting then, huh?” a smirk plastering San’s face.

“Ooo, Hongjoong is almost as bratty as I am,” Wooyoung whispers to you.

“No one can out brat you, Woo. Except maybe me,” you whisper back. “Have you never seen San and Joong go at it?”

“No, usually when they’re like this, I’m not around so this is as new to me as it is to you. But I like it! I do know though, that from Sannie telling me about the times they’ve fucked, that little Joongie definitely wants to bottom tonight,” he giggles.

“How do you know that?” you yell whisper at Wooyoung, trying not to draw attention to yourselves.

“He was being nice to Sannie. He wouldn’t have complimented him if he wanted to top him tonight.”

“Nice when?” your eyes widening in amusement.

“Didn’t you hear him call San ‘handsome’?”

“I mean, I did but, San is handsome.”

“Not when Joong wants to rail him,” Wooyoung shrugs like this should just be common sense.

During your conversation with Wooyoung, San has Hongjoong even more riled up, his dick straining against the rough fabric of his denim shorts. San sits himself up and makes quick work of removing and tossing Hongjoong’s tank top, and wraps his burning lips around one of Hongjoong’s perky buds, sucking loudly. Small pants, whimpers, and whines begin spilling from Hongjoong’s plump, pink, jeweled lips.

San stops for a brief moment to look up at Hongjoong, lightly glistening with sweat. “Come on, Joongie, all you have to do is beg for it, and I’ll give it to you. Be a good boy.” As soon as he finishes his sentence, one of Hongjoong’s nipples is in between his teeth, and the other underneath the pad of his thumb.

“I’ll never beg for it,” his breathing uneven from San’s touch.

“Never, Joongie? I remember very clearly the last time you begged for me to fuck you.” He stands up with Hongjoong in his arms and leaves from the edge of the bed and makes his way to the foot of the bed to deposit Hongjoong into the middle of it. He hovers over him for just a moment before he places hot, sloppy kisses on his neck. “Let me remind you, hmm?”

San slides his hand into the waistband of Hongjoong’s shorts and boxers and grabs a hold of his hard, leaking, jewelry-clad dick and gives it a few strokes. Hongjoong’s back arches off the bed, chasing the pleasure of San’s hand. “Awww, you’re already dripping for me, pretty.” San rubs his thumb over his pierced tip and Hongjoong lets out a nose somewhere between a whimper and a moan.

“Are you going to willingly beg for it, or am I going to have to make you? Because one way or another, you’ll be pleading for me to fuck you full.”

“I told you I’m not begging for shit,” Hongjoong’s voice cracking from trying to keep his composure.

“I love that you’re putting on a little show for Y/N and Youngie. It’s just going to be that much more satisfying when I finally break you.”

You and Wooyoung have your eyes glued to the pair, Wooyoung palming the tent forming in his sweats, and you rubbing your thighs together to try and relieve your throbbing pussy.

San’s impatience gets the better of him as he rips off Hongjoong’s boxers and shorts in one quick, aggressive movement and throws them onto the floor behind him. Hongjoong lays bare and at the mercy of the fully clothed man. San’s lips are back on Hongjoong’s body and he places hungry, needy kisses across every inch of honey, tattooed skin he can manage to get his mouth on. His kisses getting lower, he stops at the ‘Captain’ tattoo and traces his tongue painstakingly slowly over each letter. Hongjoong’s dick spasms at the feeling of the wet, warm muscle drawing on his skin, and yet another drop of the salty nectar leaks from his tip.

San hums in satisfaction, knowing he’s almost got Hongjoong right where he wants him. “Let me take care of that for you, Joongie.”

He grabs a hold of Hongjoong’s thick, muscular thighs and licks a slobbery trail up the underside of Hongjoong’s dick and engulfs the tip into his eager mouth. Before Hongjoong can get any true satisfaction from it, San pops Hongjoong’s dick out of his mouth. “Fuck, I forgot just how good you taste. You gonna give me some more, baby?”

Hongjoong’s breaths are short and shallow as he whines in frustration. In a final attempt to regain some dominance, he gives a rough tug to San’s locks. “God, you’re such a fucking tease, San.”

“Are you ready to beg yet, or should I keep going?” one side of his mouth curling into a mischievous smirk.

“Do your worst, handsome,” he says, returning the smirk, hand still threaded in San’s hair.

“You won’t be this cocky for long, Joongie, I promise you that.”

San licks and sucks on Hongjoong’s inner thighs, making his way upwards, intentionally ignoring his angry, pulsing cock. He stops for a moment, and you can see the look of contemplation on his face. In the blink of eye, he flips Hongjoong over, kneels behind him, and pulls his hips up to bring his ass flush to his own hips and stiff, still fully clothed dick.

“Y/N, do you happen to have some lube somewhere?”

“It’s in the top drawer of the nightstand,” you manage to squeak out.

San leans over Hongjoong to reach into the draw in search of the bottle. He can feel Hongjoong trying to struggle against him as he finally locates it. He leans back, tossing the bottle within reach on the bed, and puts a firm hand on the back of Hongjoong’s neck and pushes his head into the mattress. His other hand lands a sharp smack on his ass, the sound echoing through the room. Hongjoong makes a strangled noise, somewhere between pain and pleasure.

“You’re gonna stay still and be a good boy and take what I give you, aren’t you, pretty?” he whispers to Hongjoong as he pets his spine with the same rough hand that delivered the harsh blow to his ass.

His resolve completely breaking under San’s hands and words, cheek still squished into the mattress, he gives a small nod.

“That’s it baby. Let Sannie make you feel good.”

San generously costs his fingers with the lubricant and drips some down the crack of Hongjoong’s ass, watching his hole flutter around nothing.

“S-San,” Hongjoong huffs.

“Shhh, it’s ok, I’ve got you.”

San teases the rim of Hongjoong’s hole before leisurely sliding a finger in. Hongjoong hisses at the intrusion and within a few tender stroke in and out, Hongjoong attempts to fuck himself back onto San’s finger. San expertly nails Hongjoong’s prostate, eliciting a choked moan from the man under him.

“Someone’s very needy, aren’t they?”

“I-it’s not enough, I need more.”

San pulls his finger out completely and the beginning of tears start to form at Hongjoong’s lash line. He now places two fingers right at his entrance, just enough pressure to let Hongjoong know they’re there.

“What’s the magic word, Joongie?”

Hongjoong shakes his head. He will not beg for this man.

San drops his hand from its place at Hongjoong’s hole and pushes himself off of the bed, and Hongjoong panics.

Still in the same position as San left him, ass in the air, and face to the mattress, he does indeed begin to beg for San. “N-no, Sannie. Please! I’ll be good. P-please. Sannie, I need you.” The bed dips as San returns to it, having removed his clothes during Hongjoong’s pleas. San is big. You hadn’t noticed prior because he was fully sheathed inside Wooyoung’s ass the last time you saw him naked. He’s long, but also thick, and you want to lick every protruding vein on his cock.

San rubs his engorged, flushed dick between Hongjoong’s ass cheeks, and he flinches a little at the unexpected skin to skin contact. “I knew you’d beg for me. What do you need, baby? Tell Sannie.”

He reaches under Hongjoong, giving his cock a few pumps, and rolling a nipple between his fingers. A staccato moan leaves Hongjoong’s throat and San kisses up his back. “Tell me, Joongie, or I will leave you here, dripping and hard in the middle of Y/N’s bed. Youngie and Y/N won’t be allowed to help you. And I won’t let you touch yourself either.”

“Please, I need your cock. I need you to fuck me, please.” Hongjoong is breathless as a single tear falls.

“That’s a good boy, Captain,” San says as he pushes into him in one fluid thrust of his hips, bottoming out inside of him.

San picks up a relentless pace, and Hongjoong desperately meets it. His whimpers and whines vibrate through the air, along with another familiar set and Wooyoung can no longer keep his mouth shut. You and Wooyoung have stripped down to nothing but your bra and panties and his boxers as you sit in his lap, back to his chest, your legs spread open as he plays with your clit through your soaked panties.

“Aww, look at little whiny bottom Joongie, flushed and crying on Sannie’s cock.”

Hongjoong and San look at the both of you, and even though Hongjoong looks insanely fucked out, you can tell he’s pissed, and so is San.

San stops his strokes into Hongjoong, and gives a cold stare to Wooyoung. Hongjoong makes a noise of disappointment at the halt of San’s movements.

“Youngie. Come here. Now.” His tone is very serious and anyone in their sane mind who wasn’t an absolute brat would be scared. He starts moving again inside Hongjoong, a patient pace, unlike the voice that just came from him.

But Wooyoung being the brat he is, decides to test San’s authority. “Make me, Sannie. And I would say that would be rather difficult for you to do, seeing as how you’re currently balls deep inside precious Joongie.”

With a sigh and gritted teeth, San says, “Wooyoung, don’t test my fucking patience. I said-” He’s interrupted by Hongjoong who, with a sickly sweet voice, calls Wooyoung to them.

“Wooyo, San asked you to come here.”

Wooyoung taps your leg, signaling for you to stand. He immediately heads over to Hongjoong and San on the bed.

“Oh, so you listen to Hongjoong when he calls for you? Seems you’ve suddenly forgotten who owns you, pretty. Boxers off. On the bed, in front of your lovely Joongie. And as punishment for your ‘cute’ little stunt, you don’t get to cum until I say so.”

There’s an air of unspoken words between Hongjoong and San, and Hongjoong knows exactly what he’s asking of him. He’s meant to bring Wooyoung to a similar state of his own. Only then is San going to let him cum.

Wooyoung settles in front of Hongjoong, feet placed on either side of his head.

“Oh, don’t think I forgot about you, Y/N. Come here.” Hongjoong’s dominance has returned, if only for a moment, to put you back in your place. You shake your head ‘no’ at him. An eyebrow flies upwards at your disobedience.

“Kitten,” San says, using Hongjoong’s pet name for you, “you were told to do something, I suggest you listen. Here. Now.”

You swiftly make your way to the bed and sit on your heels next to the three men, squeezing your legs together tightly to try and calm your aching bundle of nerves.

“Since you seem so eager to get your hands on Y/N, Youngie, why don’t you go ahead and take care of the rest of her clothes for us?” Hongjoong looks up at Wooyoung from his place in between his legs. “And Y/N, since you need a lesson on how to control yourself, you’re allowed nothing but to watch.”

“That’s not fair,” you pout at Hongjoong. “It was Woo’s idea!”

“And he’s also in trouble too, lest you forget. Hongjoong will make sure his punishment is carried out. So I suggest you take yours like a good girl, and start by letting Woo get rid of your sopping panties and that bothersome bra. We want to see you make a mess of yourself while I fuck your Joongie full of my cum and he plays with my naughty little Youngie.”

“Get to it, Woo,” San nods his head towards you, and picks back up his pace, fucking into Hongjoong like a dog in heat.

Wooyoung crawls over to you and unhooks your bra tossing it into the pile of forgotten clothes on the floor, and then tips you backwards onto the bed and makes quick work of your panties, adding the final piece of clothing from the four of you.

Hongjoong beckons Wooyoung to sit back in front of him, and he does so without any hesitation. You sit back up onto your knees, this time spreading your legs apart so that your bare pussy touches the soft, silky sheets.

“Go ahead, Joongie. Get your fill of Wooyo as a reward for taking my cock so well.”

Hongjoong doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls Wooyoung by the thighs until he’s face to face with his dick. He kitten licks the precum off Wooyoung’s length that has dripped down it with his pierced tongue, the feeling making Wooyoung shiver with need.

“Fuck, Captain.”

Before Wooyoung can catch his breath, Hongjoong wraps his mouth around him and wastes no time taking him all the way in, his nose nestled in his well trimmed pubic hair. You hear Hongjoong gulp as he swallows around Wooyoung’s cock. Wooyoung screams as he finds purchase in Hongjoong’s hair. San gives a particularly hard thrust which has Hongjoong moaning around him as his eyes roll back, the vibrations causing tears to well up in Wooyoung’s eyes.

“Shit, if you don’t get your perfect mouth off my dick, I’m definitely gonna cum down your throat.”

San lands a thrust that pushes Hongjoong just a little farther down onto Wooyoung’s cock and he chokes on it before opening his mouth to release Wooyoung and letting his saliva coat him and drip down to his hole.

Hongjoong litters each of Wooyoung’s tensing thighs in deep bite marks. “As much as I’d love to swallow your babies, Sannie has given his orders, pretty.”

Hongjoong plunges two neatly manicured fingers into Wooyoung, precum and saliva that dripped from Wooyoung’s dick being the only lubricant. Wooyoung sharply inhales and arches his back at the sudden stretch and slight burn. Hongjoong milks his sweet spot, bringing forth soft, incoherent words from Wooyoung’s lips.

“Hnng, fuck, Joongie. I-I can’t.” Wooyoung’s body tightens as he tosses his head side to side, heavy pants making his chest rise and fall quickly. The look of Wooyoung fucked out from his fingers alone causes him to clamp around San’s dick and San grabs Hongjoong’s hips and pulls him full force back into his cock. Hongjoong crumples with a silent scream, his head resting into Wooyoung’s taut stomach, his fingers now slowly working him.

“Taking me so well, our precious Joongie. You’ve been so good for me. I’ll let you cum soon, baby. Look at the mess our pretty Y/N has made, watching you take my cock.”

All three of them look over to you, your body having a mind of its own as you rub your hot, slick coated pussy against the cool sheets. There’s a growing wet spot underneath you as your arousal only continues to increase.

Your disarray makes all three of them groan, and double down on their efforts in ruining each other. As things get louder and more intense, Hongjoong’s phone rings. None of them bother stopping, instead ordering you to answer it and put it on speaker. The name simply reads “Baby Chick 🐥”.

“H-hello?” you answer, out of breath and barely above a whisper.

“Hongjoong-ah, you sound a little more feminine than usual,” the caller jokes.

“He’s a little BUSY at the moment, Mingi-ah,” punctuating ‘busy’ with a long, deep thrust into Hongjoong. Hongjoong clamps his teeth around Wooyoung’s thigh once again to try and quiet the grunt that threatens to escape.

“God damn, Joongie, are you trying to eat me alive!?” Wooyoung squeals.

“Oh, is he? Sounds a bit like you all are. So it must be Miss Y/N that answered?” Mingi questions.

You’re quiet, your horny brain trying to process everything that’s going on in the moment.

“Y/N, M-Mingi-ah… a-asked you… something,” Hongjoong’s sentence broken up by his high pitched moans and tear laden voice from San’s quickening pace. You’re pretty sure they’re all seconds from cumming.

“Um, yes. It’s Y/N…”

Mingi hums on the other line. “Why so quiet, doll? Aren’t you enjoying yourself? You got three gorgeous men with you.”

“She’d probably be having fun if she was allowed to join, Princess, but her and Woo decided to have some fun without permission, so she can only watch. You should see how fucking hot she looks, all desperate and needy, in a puddle of her own juices,” San paints the picture for Mingi.

“Shit, send me a picture,” Mingi requests.

San quickly takes the phone from you, snaps a quick photo and sends it to Mingi. The line is silent for a few moments.

“Fuck… and y’all aren’t all over that right now?” whines Mingi.

“She’s being taught a lesson, Mingi. And so is Woo,” Hongjoong growls as he take Wooyoung’s dick into his other hand, pumping it achingly slow, slowing down his fingers to match.

“Joongie, f-fuck, please. I need to cum. God dammit!”

“Doll, give me details on what you’re seeing, hmmm?”

You whimper out a sigh. “I could just make it a video call and you can see for yourself?”

“No, no. I want you to tell me.”

Your voice timid and stammering, you explain in full detail what’s taking place. San fucking into Hongjoong, Hongjoong fingering and stroking Wooyoung to the point he’s completely sobbing. Hongjoong kissing Wooyoung to swallow his cries. San reaching under Hongjoong to push a rough, strong hand on Hongjoong’s throat, in turn making him sob, and San belting out a guttural moan.

“Ahh, so little Joongie is taking San’s big cock in his tight little ass, is he?”

“Yes, and I… I think it’s really fucking hot.”

“Oh?” You hear yet another voice on the other line. “You hear that, Mingi? She thinks it’s hot. Lucky for her, she’ll be seeing a hell of a lot of it, if she ended up agreeing to Joong’s proposition.”

“Hhnng, fuck. Come on, pretty. Cum for me. Cum for Sannie.” San is stroking Hongjoong’s cock impossibly fast with the hand that’s not on his throat making him dizzy with pleasure.

Hongjoong’s hole squeezes San dick over and over as he reaches his release, ropes of white, sticky cum painting the bed below as his body spasms and a muted scream leaves his throat.

“That’s it, baby, just a little more. Let me use you. Let me fuck this cute ass full of my cum.” A few more thrusts brings San to his own toe curling orgasm.

“Now, should we finally let poor Youngie cum, Joongie?” San asks Hongjoong, breathless.

“I think he’s earned it,” a devious smirk planted on Hongjoong’s face.

He adds a third finger into Wooyoung’s ass and fucks him in earnest. Before he wraps his hungry mouth around Wooyoung’s dick, he licks his lips. “Now I can finally swallow you properly, my pretty, pretty Woo.”

A strangled cry is heard from everyone by Wooyoung as Hongjoong pumps his fingers relentlessly into him, and swallows his dick whole.

“Fuck, y’all really tortured poor Wooyo this whole time and didn’t let him cum? No wonder he was so loud!” You hear a third voice radiate through the speaker.

“Sangie?” Wooyoung calls out. “I-I thought you and Yunho had something come up? F-fuck, Joong.” The sound of Hongjoong gurgling on Wooyoung’s cock fills the room.

“Jesus, Joong! He’s not gonna have a dick left when you’re done. But, yeah, that something was Mingi. Me and Yunho decided we needed you four to finally fuck it out, so once we heard Hongjoong was over, a dick appointment with Mingi was too tempting. Sounds like it’s, uh, working in everyone's favor. Except for maybe Y/N.”

“Don’t worry, she’s about to be well taken care of. Baby, have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes, sir,” you blurt out, answering San’s question with zero hesitation.

“Sir? Oh, you’re really trying to get in my good graces aren’t you? Go sit on Woo’s pretty face, Kitten.”

Woo is so fucked out, but you can see the look of excitement as you crawl your way over to him and hover over his face. “He said sit, not hover, Y/N,” he says right before pulling you down to fully seat yourself on his face.

He licks a slow, agonizing path from your fluttering entrance to your swollen clit, and grazes it with his teeth before sucking on it, lewd slurping noises surrounding the two of you. Hongjoong hits the right spot for Wooyoung, because you feel the rumble of his moans into your pussy. He comes up for air, his face glistening with your juices. “Fuck, I could eat this pussy all day, you taste so fucking good. Joongie, s-shit. I’m gonna cum!”

“You better make sure that Y/N does too, Youngie. Don’t be selfish.” orders San, and Hongjoong slows just enough to ease Wooyoung off the edge.

Your legs are already trembling, the heat in your gut having threatened to burst the moment Wooyoung pulled you onto his face. “Cum on my tongue, angel. Need you to give me every last drop.”

He dives back in, devouring you like a man starved. His skilled tongue is fucking in and out of your tight heat, and you grip his long, dark hair, trying to maintain some semblance of sanity. Hongjoong can tell you’re close just by your pornographic noises, and the way you rock your hips on Wooyoung’s face. He curls his fingers inside Wooyoung and sucks hard on his tip, and Wooyoung gives your clit the same treatment. Your legs trap Wooyoung’s head as you cum with a loud string of curses. As Wooyoung drinks up your spilled arousal, Hongjoong pushes once more against his sweet spot, finally earning him the treat he’d been after as he swallows every last drop he’s coaxed from Wooyoung. Wooyoung screams are muffled by your pussy, and they reverberate through you, causing another orgasm to seize your body, unexpectedly.

You roll off of Wooyoung’s face and settle next to him. “You eat pussy like a god, Woo. What the fuck?” Your body is still twitching a bit and your breath steadying after coming down from back to back orgasms, and Wooyoung’s eyes are closed as he smirks.

“My mouth is something I pride myself on, in all ways that can be taken,” he giggles softly.

“I hope you didn’t think we were finished,” San asks tentatively.

“Hmm, nope, just needed a few minutes. You good to go Y/N? Joong?”

You and Hongjoong hum in agreement.

“Ok, that’s settled then. Joongie, on your back. I want Youngie to get you good and hard again, and then cockwarm you, keep you nice and ready for Y/N, yeah?” Hongjoong nods as he gets into position. “As for you, my pretty boy,” San lightly grabs Wooyoung’s chin to make their eyes meet, “I know his cock feels amazing, but save your cum for when our gorgeous Y/N has her tight pussy wrapped around your cock. Think you can handle that?”

Wooyung gives a sadden sigh. “As long as Joongie plays nice, I think I can handle it.”

“Oh, baby. I’m not sure it’s him you’ll have to worry about. Now go on and get our Captain ready.”

Wooyoung heads over to Hongjoong, who is resting and waiting with his hands folded underneath his head. “Y/N, can you come here for just a second?”

You’re unsure of Wooyoung’s next move but you scoot yourself closer to him. “Spread your legs for me, pretty girl.” San keeps a close eye on the interaction, making sure Wooyoung behaves. You follow his instructions and give him a full view of your glistening folds. “Fuck, so pretty.”

He sticks his fingers inside of you to collect some of your slick, which is abundant, considering he just gave you two earth shattering orgasms. You groan as you try to ride his thick fingers, but he pulls them out just as quick as they went in. “Nuh uh, baby. I just needed some help getting Joongie all nice and wet for me. I appreciate the assistance,” his tone playful and bratty.

Using the arousal he just collected from you, he slicks up Hongjoong’s dick and strokes him, playing with his piercings, until he’s back fully hard and leaking. He straddles Hongjoong, facing you and San, and Hongjoong pulls his cheeks apart to watch Wooyoung slide down his dick until he’s fully seated on it. Hongjoong sighs in relief. “Shit, Youngie. So warm and tight,” he says, kneading the soft flesh of Wooyoung’s ass. Wooyoung tries to stay as still as possible and follow San’s orders.

Hongjoong plants his feet on the bed to give San space to mimic his position the opposite direction.

“Y/N. Ride me? You’ve been so patient and I know your pretty little hole is aching to be filled with cock.”

“Yes, sir.” You maneuver yourself just over San’s hard, fat cock and line him up with your entrance. The glide is smooth but you can still feel the burning stretch, and he groans as he bottoms out inside you.

“That’s it, baby. Such a good girl for us. I’ve been waiting so long to have my dick inside you. Such a shame that it took Joongie being gracious enough to share you with us for it to happen. We could have had you cumming on our cocks ages ago.”

You whine at his dirty words, bouncing up and down at a rhythmic pace. He sits himself up on his forearms to watch himself disappear inside your tight pussy. “That’s a fucking sight to see. You take me so well, pretty.”

You readjust yourself and slide your upper body forward so it’s resting on the bed, you propped on your forearms now as well, as you continue to ride San. You’re now also inches away from Wooyoung’s dick, still shining from Hongjoong’s mouth. You wet your lips and run your tongue along every protruding vein on his gorgeous cock. He shivers at the unexpected attention.

“Such a cock tease, Y/N,” he whimpers needily, as he begins rocking his hips against Hongjoong’s dick.

Hongjoong grabs his hips to still him. “You were told to warm me, not fuck me, Youngie.”

“I-I can’t h-help it. Feels so good.” You fully engulf his cock into your hungry mouth and he chokes out a broken moan.

San gives your ass a sharp slap that elicits a moan from you, the vibration traveling to Wooyoung’s cock and making him twitch.

“Such a naughty girl, teasing Youngie and making him squirm, knowing he can’t cum until he has you,” San instigates.

You become even more wet at his words. “Now I know why Joongie can’t stay away,” he pants, breaths becoming uneven. “So nice of him to share this tight, wet pussy with us.”

San pays close attention to Wooyoung and can tell by his high pitched moans that he’s teetering on the edge of his release. Before he topples over, San grabs you by the throat and pops you off of Wooyoung’s dick and pulls you flush to his chest.

Brows furrowing and a disgruntled groan leaving his chest, Wooyoung pouts. Hongjoong still has a bruising grip on his hips, keeping him still. “Only good boys get to cum more than once, Wooyo. And you’ve been a mouthy little brat all night. Prove to me you can behave until Sannie decides you’ve earned Y/N, and maybe we’ll be kind enough to let you cum again.”

San finds your lips, placing sloppy, hot, saliva filled kisses onto them. His tongue explores your mouth, tasting the bitter, salty essence of Wooyoung’s precum lingering. His hips snap into you, sharp and precise, brushing against your cervix on every thrust up. He places gentle pressure on your throat, enough to make your head spin, and your orgasm is quickly approaching from his ministrations. You greedily swallow each other's noises and you can feel San’s cock throbbing inside of you. Your pussy has San in a vice grip and he leaves your lips to scatter kisses across your shoulders and neck.

“You’re squeezing me so tight. Let go and cum on my cock, sweetheart.” Your mouth opens in a silent scream as you come undone on San’s dick and after a few more pumps, he follows, his hot seed filling you so full that it drips out of you around him.

San pulls out of you as you come down from your high. “You did so good, sweetie. Can you still take more? Look at poor, Youngie. He looks like he could use your help, baby.”

You look at Wooyoung who is writhing on Hongjoong’s dick, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. “Mmm, yes, Sannie. Want to take care of Woo.”

“Go sit on him, baby. And let Joongie do all the work. I have a feeling you’re going to need your energy once he gets a hold of you.”

You make your way over to a very whiny, overstimulated Wooyoung and climb on top of him. You slowly lower yourself onto his dick, and his nails dig into you back as he cries out. “F-fuck, I… shit.”

The mixture of your juices and San’s cum in your hole, still tight and gripping from your orgasm minutes before, encompassing Wooyoung’s dick, has him cumming the moment he’s fully inside of you.

“Shit. I-I’m s-sorry,” Wooyoung chokes out a sob, tears finally escaping his glassy eyes.

“Aww, our pretty Wooyo couldn’t even wait for us, Y/N. Poor, desperate, needy boy,” Hongjoong coos.

“At least he followed Sannie’s orders. But you’re gonna keep being a good boy and let Joongie and I use you, right baby?” you purr in his ear and yank his long, silky hair, exposing his neck to gently suck on it.

“Such a good boy. Use me, please,” his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love when you’re begging on my cock, pretty boy. We’ve got you, baby.”

Hongjoong starts with a slow and steady pace, and the three of you let out a sound of pleasure. Hongjoong increases his pace as you all become used to the position, him fucking you through Wooyoung.

“Mmm, feels so good, Youngie,” lust lacing your voice as you continue your previous attack on his neck. Your teeth scrape against a sensitive spot and he hums in approval. The pads of your thumbs play with his nipples and his whines raise an octave.

“So good, Woo, letting me fuck you into Y/N. Feel good, baby?”

“Gah, f-fuck. Really good. She’s so wet and tight, Joongie.”

You feel heat at your back, and San has knelt behind you. He places his hands on your hips and rocks you on Wooyoung’s cock, matching Hongjoong’s thrusts below. San rests his chin on your shoulder and Wooyoung instantly attaches his mouth to San’s. The lewd sounds of their make out session next to your ear has the knot in your belly tightening. If the panting in your ear is acting to go by, Wooyoung is just as close as you are, and you glance at Hongjoong to see he isn’t faring any better. His pierced lip is between his teeth, brows knitted in concentration.

San’s hard dick pokes into your back every time he pulls you back, and you instinctively clench around Wooyoung. Now that you’re grinding on Wooyoung on your own accord, San runs his hands up your torso to cup your breasts and knead them in his hands. He pinches your nipples as he and Wooyoung mark your blemish free skin with purpling bruises.

Hongjoong is fucking Wooyoung into you hard, and you gasp as if the air has been punched from your lungs. “Fuck.. s-so close. Don’t stop, please,” you babble.

“Please, Joongie. Don’t stop. S’close too. Y/N is about to drain me for everything I have, she’s squeezing me so fucking tight. Come on, pretty girl.”

“Feels so good. I’m gon-,” your sentence unfinished as you cum so hard that your vision blanks and your hearing betrays you for a few moments, your head resting on San’s shoulder.

The pulsing of your pussy around Wooyoung has him cumming what seems like an endless supply deep inside you. “That’s it, Y/N. Take every last drop.”

The domino effect continues, as Hongjoong follows right behind Wooyoung, wrapping his arms tightly around him and giving a few final strokes. He collapses back onto the bed and lightly chuckles. “I was genuinely concerned you were gonna take my dick off for a second, Woo. I don’t think you’ve ever cum that hard around my dick.”

“Well, you can thank Y/N for that one. She’s got a perfect pussy.”

San removes you from Wooyoung and cuddles you in his arms while the aftershocks of your release calm down. Hongjoong slides out of Wooyoung and cuddles him as well. He pets Wooyoung’s hair as he addresses the both of you. “You both did so good, my babies.” San kisses your temple and makes a noise of agreement.

“Sannie and Youngie felt so, so good. Filled me up so nicely, and I would not be opposed to riding Woo’s face for the rest of my life.”

“Oh?”

You can sense the jealousy seeping out of Hongjoong’s every pore. Which was absolutely your intention. Everyone had been a little too gentle for your liking tonight, and you just wanted Hongjoong to fuck you stupid and remind you who you actually belonged to.

“Sannie fucked me so g-,”

Hongjoong interrupts you. “Kitten, that’s enough.” Anyone else would be scared of the look in his eyes right now, but you’ve got him exactly where you want him. All you need to do is push just a little further.

“What?” you feign innocence. “I was just saying how good they made me feel.” San stifles a laugh as you back talk Hongjoong, because he knows you’re about to be in for it. He quietly slips out from behind you and collects a spent Wooyoung from Hongjoong to go sit over on the couch, ready to enjoy the show.

“Do you think that I don’t have eyes? Or ears, Y/N? Do you think I didn’t hear every sound or see every face you made while they fucked you? While Youngie devoured your pussy?” he hisses.

He makes his way over to you and shoves you back, caging you underneath him.

“You’re a pliant little fucking mess for Sannie, aren’t you?” one of his pretty, inked hands reaching to clasp your throat. “You like how he fucked you, hmm? Let him stuff you full of his cum. Still wasn’t enough for you, you had to be full from both ends, huh? Making Youngie squirm on my cock.”

“I loved every second of it,” you say as loud as you can with Hongjoong’s hand around your neck, a devious smirk decorating your lips.

“I bet you did, Kitten. But let me remind you who you belong to, hmm?”

You hear moans and heavy breathing followed by a ‘fuck’ that doesn’t come from any of the four of you in the room. You all take a moment and realize it’s coming from Hongjoong’s forgotten phone, which has made its way onto the floor at some point.

“Fucking hell, Mingi-ya. I thought you would have hung up by now, since I hadn’t.”

“No, we were really enjoying what we were hearing. Y/N makes some pretty fucking sounds. I hadn’t gotten to hear her yet. Kinda feeling left out, not gonna lie.”

“Maybe if you’re a good boy, Princess, Hongjoong will let you have your chance,” Yunho says in the background.

“God damn, Yeo! Ok, I gotta go. Y’all have given us a very horny Sangie, who currently has my dick down his throat.”

The line goes silent and Hongjoong’s attention returns to you.

“You didn’t think Mingi was going to get you out of this did you?”

“No, but I think you were about to remind me who I belonged to, Captain,” your voice smooth as velvet.

“Spread your legs. Now.” His voice is commanding but calm, and you do as you’re told. “I want you to look at me while you play with that pretty little pussy.”

You dip your fingers into your entrance to gather some of the mixture of cum and rub lazy circles against your clit, eyes locked on Hongjoong. He bites his lip and groans as he pumps his long, hard cock. Your breaths begin to pick up, and your moans and whimpers increase. Hongjoong moves to hover over you. He drinks in the sight of you. Cheeks flushed, mouth parted in pleasure, chest rising and falling in short bursts. “What pretty little noises you make for me. Let’s see how long I can hear them tonight. Don’t stop unless I tell you to, understand?” You give him a small nod.

He makes his way down in between your thighs and ghosts kisses up and down, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He bites down hard on your left inner thigh and suckles. The intensity makes you shriek and your legs shake and you can feel Hongjoong smile against you. “That’s it, let me hear you, Kitten.”

He doesn’t stop until your inner thighs are completely covered in perfect bite marks and various depths of purpling darkness. You’re a writhing mess between your own fingers and his expert mouth. The coil in your gut keeps winding tighter and tighter. “I love how you can’t control yourself when you’re about to cum. But I need you to cum on my tongue, baby.” He removes your hand from your aching nub and replaces it with his tongue.

“Fuuuck, right there, please. Don’t stop.” He nibbles your clit before fully taking it into his mouth, sucking on it like it’s the last thing he’ll ever taste. Your hands find purchase in his hair as your back arches off the bed, and your orgasm ripples through you like a freight train. He detaches himself from you, face covered in your arousal as he comes up to kiss you. You taste yourself on his tongue and you deepen the kiss.

“Tell Sannie and Wooyo who’s making you feel this good, Kitten,” he whispers against your lips.

“You, Captain. Fuck.” You wrap your legs around his waist, attempting to pull him closer, urging him to fuck you.

“Good girl. Let’s see how many more you can give me, shall we? I’m gonna make you cum so many times that you forget your own name. I may allow the others to enjoy you, but don’t you ever forget who this pussy belongs to, Kitten.”

“Please, Captain. I need you inside of me,” you beg.

He chuckles darkly as he untangles himself from your legs and goes to sit against the headboard.

“I bet you do, baby. But before I even think about giving you my cock, you’re gonna cum for me again. And the only way I’ll allow you to do that is by riding my thigh. Come take your place, pretty girl.”

You crawl on your knees over to him and situate yourself on one of his thick, strong thighs. You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your forehead against his shoulder as you grind yourself on his thigh, your wetness making the slide easy. He covers your neck in love bites, but that’s the only form of attention he’s giving you. “If you want it, you have to work for it, Kitten.”

You grind down harder, trying to find the right amount of friction to bring you to your climax. You whine and whimper into his neck as you struggle to get yourself there.

“Does my baby need help?” Hongjoong mocks.

“Please, Captain.”

“Maybe you should watch Sannie over there, fucking Youngie into the cushions, since you enjoyed them so much, hmm?” Wooyoung cries out from a rough thrust of San’s hips. You had long forgotten the others in the room as Hongjoong teased you, making him your sole focus.

“No, I need you. Please touch me,” your voice heavy with desperation as you continue your valiant effort to cum on your own, to no avail.

“You even remembered your manners. Such a good girl.” He flexes his thigh underneath you, the stimulation it causes is delicious. He rolls a nipple between his fingers of one hand, and chokes you with the other, making you head spin with pleasure.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant. “I’m gonna c-.” Your sentence is cut short as Hongjoong removes the hand from your throat and shoves his thumb into your mouth, which you greedily suck.

“What was that, Kitten? I didn’t quite hear you.” Your legs clamp around his thigh as you cum all over it, and your mouth drops open, drool falling down your chin and Hongjoong’s delicate hand. “Making such a mess, baby.”

Before you can recover, he repositions you to lay over his lap on your back and pins one of your legs to his chest, leaving your pussy on full display. “I want Sannie and Wooyo to watch how well you take my fingers. If you’re a good girl for me, I’ll give you my cock next. How’s that sound?”

All you manage is a fucked out whine as he plays with your clit, and you can feel the eyes of the other two on your swollen, sensitive pussy, having clearly finished with whatever they were doing beforehand because Wooyoung is now relaxed on San’s lap.

Hongjoong shoves two fingers inside your abused hole, and curls them to play with your sweet spot. His fingers are fucking you at an unforgiving stride. You cling to his arm for dear life, leaving crescent shaped marks with your nails.

“T-too much, Joongie,” you mewl, wriggling in his grip.

“Take it for me, pretty girl.” He ignores the fact that you didn’t call him by his correct title, knowing there’s no thoughts left in your brain but his fingers deep inside you.

“You’re doing so good for Captain, sweetheart,” San praises. You groan as the wet sounds of Hongjoong playing with your pussy fill the room. If you had been in a proper state of mind, you might have been embarrassed. But Hongjoong is bringing you to yet another orgasm, and you’ve lost all sense of shame.

“Look at you, quivering around Joongie’s fingers. So pretty,” Wooyoung murmurs.

You’re panting heavily as tears begin to flow and Hongjoong can tell you’re close to cumming again. “You close, Kitten? Look at me. I want to watch that pretty face twisted in pleasure when you cum all over my fingers.”

You do your best to focus on Hongjoong as he massages your sweet spot. “Sannie and Youngie don’t make you feel this good, do they, baby?,” he purrs.

“Hnng, n-no, Captain. H-harder! Gonna cum!” your watery eyes focused on the man knuckles deep in your hole.

Wooyoung and San watch as your pussy contracts around Hongjoong’s fingers and you squirt and drench him and yourself. Hongjoong admires the blissed out expression on your face, knowing only he can make you this fucked out.

“So proud of you. You did so good. Have you had enough for tonight, Kitten?”

You sit up and shake your head and pout up at him, stroking his neglected cock. You’re three climaxes in just from Hongjoong, and Hongjoong hasn’t cum for you once. If you’re being honest, you’re a bit offended, even though you know his intention was to focus on you and your pleasure. “You promised me your cock if I was good, Captain. You came for Wooyo and Sannie. But not for me. I’ve been good and you said you would give it to me!”

An exasperated sigh leaves Hongjoong’s lips as his eyes grow dark. “You really just want to be fucked full of everyone’s cum tonight, hmm Kitten? How hard do you want it?”

“Ruin me, Captain. Please?”

“Fuck.”

He pins you down to the bed and manhandles you into a mating press, plunging his dick into your waiting pussy. “You wanted me to ruin you baby, so you’re gonna lay here and take every inch of my cock.”

He thrusts into you with an unyielding force, the sound of skin meeting skin deafening in the room. A loud, long moan leaves from your parted lips. “That’s it, Kitten. Moan for me, just like that.” He pants into your plush thigh, placing tender kisses, quite the opposite of his strokes.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Captain.”

He leans in to capture your lips, a mix of tongue, teeth, and spit exchanged between the two of you. You suck on his pierced lip to encourage him to make those desperate sounds you love so much. The jewelry of his pretty dick drags along your walls so nicely, it makes you gasp. He bites your neck and sucks a mark, darker than all the others you’ve received tonight.

“Mine,” he growls. “And I’m gonna make sure everyone fucking knows it.”

“Yes, Captain, yours.”

His pounding pace has gotten even more unforgiving and you feel yourself barreling towards another blinding release. Hongjoong’s teeth find every inch of skin he can reach and bites hard enough that he knows it will leave bruises for the others to see.

“Joongie, I can feel you throbbing inside of me. Fuck me full? Please? Cum for me?” you whine at him.

“If you want my cum, you’re gonna have to cum first and drain it from me. Squeeze my cock, baby.”

Your pussy hugs him tighter, and the pleasure intensifies even more than you could imagine. “Fuuuuck,” you groan as you take one of his hands and place it around your throat, silently pleading him to squeeze. He follows your silent request and your back arches and your eyes roll in the back of your head, tears falling from them simultaneously. Your mouth drops open and drool leaks from the corners, as you let out as loud of a scream as you can manage.

Hongjoong slides in and out of your pulsing pussy a few more times, before he reaches his own release and stills inside of you. “Goddamnit, Kitten. That’s it, take every last drop. My good girl deserves it.”

He brings you close to him as he collapses next to you, not yet wanting to pull out. He gives your lips delicate, unhurried kisses as you both catch your breath. San and Wooyoung make their way to the bed to join in on the cuddling. Wooyoung hugs you from behind and snuggles into you, and San behind Hongjoong.

“You all did so well. Especially you, Y/N,” San praises. “Is everyone satiated now?” Some form of approval is announced by everyone. “Good. I really enjoyed tonight. I know Y/N probably can’t even move right now, but we’ve got to get cleaned up. We’re a fucking mess.”

He slips out from behind Hongjoong and he makes a disapproving sound at the loss of warmth.

“I’m just going to go run us a bath, Joongie. I’ll be right back,” San reassures as he pats Hongjoong’s head.

San heads towards the on suite bathroom and you hear the water running. Hongjoong plants another kiss to your lips before he goes to leave as well. “Stay here and cuddle with Youngie, baby. I’ll be right back.” You manage a small nod as he pushes himself up and off the bed and finds his boxers in the pile of forgotten clothes. Wooyoung nuzzles your neck and squeezes you tighter.

Before you can drift off, San renters the room. He kneels at your side and scoops you up. “I’ll be right back for you, Youngie. Ok, baby?”

“Mmm, yes Sannie.”

San carries your spent body to the bathroom and gently places you in the tub. The warm water and soothing scent of the candles San lit instantly relaxes your aching body, and you rest against the wall of the tub. “I’ll be right back, pretty. I’m gonna go get Youngie.” You hum as your eyes struggle to stay open.

As promised, San returns with Wooyoung and sets him in the bath in front of you, and you cling to him, pulling him to rest against you. San leaves again, letting you both know he’ll return shortly.

“So that was definitely something,” Wooyoung murmurs to you.

“It was amazing,” you respond.

“I never knew you could cum so much, Y/N. All those other men you’ve brought over must have been trash.” You cackle at his bluntness and scratch your fingertips against his scalp. “Hmmm, that feels nice.”

San meets Hongjoong back in the room where Hongjoong has prepared a snacking board of different items and drinks for everyone.

“They’re settled in the tub, probably waiting for us to return. I’m going to change the sheets and toss the others in the wash,” San informs Hongjoong as he sets everything down onto the nightstand.

“Ok, I’ll go keep an eye on them. They’re probably plotting their next scheme against us,” Hongjoong jokes.

“We can only hope, huh?” San gives Hongjoong a dimpled smile.

“Thanks for taking care of all of us tonight, Sannie.”

“Hey, you took care of everyone too, ya know.”

“We make a pretty good team, I’d have to say,” Hongjoong says definitively.

“We sure do. I’ll join you all in a few. Go take care of our babies in the meantime.”

Hongjoong walks in to see you and Wooyoung talking and giggling with each other. He drops his boxers and inserts himself behind you in the water. “How are you doing, my loves?” He scoots you and Wooyoung closer to him.

“You walked in on our next plan to overtake you and San,” you pout.

He chuckles at you as he relays the conversation he just had with San back in the bedroom. Just then, San enters the bathroom and slides in on the opposite end of the three of you. In this moment, you’re thankful for the abnormally large tub that can easily accommodate the four of you.

“Youngie, come here baby,” San beckons Wooyoung over to him. He makes his way to San and settles in his lap. “What was going on in here, huh?”

“I told you they were plotting our demise!” Hongjoong says and he and San share a laugh.

“I can guarantee you that Hongjoong and I will easily foil those plans!”

You all spend time talking about tonight’s events and potential future plans, Hongjoong and San smothering you and Wooyoung with affection. The water is now lukewarm and San is the first to hop out. He slings a towel around his waist and Hongjoong follows. Hongjoong helps you out of the tub, now that your legs are more stable, and dries you off. He helps you into your favorite fluffy robe as San tends to Wooyoung.

The four of you throw on something light to sleep in and flop onto the clean sheets, and Hongjoong grabs the platter from the nightstand and sets it in between the circle that has been created. Hongjoong grabs a piece of fruit and brings it to your lips.

“Eat, baby,” his voice gentle, yet commanding. You open your mouth so he can feed it to you, and you playfully bite his fingers.

“Yah! Don’t bite!” he exclaims and the whole room erupts into laughter.

“Says you! Look at me!”

“They look pretty on you though,” he says with a smirk.

As the plate clears, and the drinks are empty, everyone begins to entangle themselves and curl into a pile of limbs. As comfortable silence falls upon the group, Hongjoong’s phone rings again. He reaches for it and answers it on speaker.

“Hey, Mingi-ya. What’s up?”

“So umm, when do we get a chance with Y/N?”

[lisenberry]

The mountain is you

Ch. 3: I hear your voice in my head

Dom Price x Fem Reader

MDNI/NSFW/18+

CW: Dom/Sub, Bondage, Sex Work, Pain Play, Spanking, Temperature Play (shower), Spit, Voice Kink, Size Kink.

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2)

AO3

You sat back on your heels with your hands folded in your lap as he walked in.  His bootsteps seemed to vibrate across the wooden floor beneath your pillow.  A steady gait, with all of the suspense of a drum roll.

As you faced the high-backed chair, you could only make out the top of him until he made his way closer into view.  He was tall enough when you were standing up.  But on the ground at his feet, he eclipsed everything else around him.  There were no windows, no ceiling.  Just his thighs giving way to his waist, his arms and shoulders. 

Your head tipped back as far as it could just to take him all in, and even then, you came up short of meeting his eyes.

“Already off to a good start, I see.  You look lovely, sweetheart.”  He appraised you in a way that was both agonizingly slow and methodically brief, as he took off his jacket and slowly rolled up his sleeves

“Thank you, sir,” you answered, to the spot on his chest where his flannel shirt opened in a V.  It earned you a quick bob of his head in approval. 

He was starting you off easy.  That much was clear.  Like a teacher on the first day of school.  Throwing you softball questions to gauge how much of the summer reading you’d done over break.  How you responded determined how far he’d push you, and which side of him you’d get.

Could he see the goosebumps spreading across your skin at the mere sound of his voice?      

“Next time, I want you to look at me when you say it.”  He bent down only slightly, aiding your efforts just enough that you could obey. 

His clear eyes glinted patiently between his dark lashes.  Dark brows, dark beard.  They were like signal fires along an unknown path.  No choice but to give yourself up and follow.

“Yes, sir.”  A slight smile pulled at the corner of your lips as the first flutter of heat worked its way from your cheeks down to the echoing emptiness in the cradle of your hips.

“Good.  I like to begin with an inspection.  To assess your readiness, and to make sure your healed from the previous session.”

“I’m ready,” you quickly admitted when his bare hand grazed against the side of your cheek.  You turned into it, starved for even the slightest touch of his roughened palm.

“And I like to take my time exploring what’s mine,” he rumbled, firmly snagging a hold of your chin.  A gesture that simultaneously chastised you for speaking out of turn, and possessively staked his claim. 

You let out a surprised breath, and he took the opening as an invitation to slip his fingers inside your parted mouth.  Two at first, and you instinctively flattened your tongue and closed around their impressive girth. 

“That’s it.”  A short hum of approval followed, as your eyes slipped closed while you sucked them deeper into your throat.  “Don’t overexert yourself just yet.  There’s plenty of time to show me how much you can take.”

He let you savor him a bit before he pulled out with a wet pop of skin and spit, and you nearly fell forward at the loss.  You licked at the salty trail his skin left behind on your lips.  

“Turn around and bend over the stool.”  He pushed a plushily upholstered ottoman closer behind you.  It was the perfect height to kneel and bend against as your arms fell over the other side. 

“Open your legs wider, don’t be shy.”  He folded up the hem of your skirt and brazenly pawed at the meat of your ass in wide circles.  You felt the stretch and pull at your exposed holes, and you wondered if the pads of his fingers were abrasive enough to leave scratches behind. 

In the way his voice had already left etchings on your mind.

“Christ, you’re soaked.  Have you been touching yourself?”  It was barely even a question, the inflection missing from his even tone.

“Yes.”  He pulled his hands away at your answer, leaving a chill in its absence, intentionally.  “Sir,” you quickly corrected.

“Good girl.”  A harsh clap to your backside was your reward.  It smarted with a sharpness that caught you off guard.  He wasn’t taking it easy anymore.  “What do think about when you play with my sweet little cunt?”  His hand returned between your legs, and with it, a probing forefinger glided along the sensitive split of your folds.

You jumped at the sensation, pulling away from the intimacy of it.  How long had it been since you were touched like this?  Ghost had only ever let you use toys on yourself.  Those were the rules, for your safety and his.  Where were the rules now?

This is what you wanted...

“This, sir,” you answered with more certainty than you felt.  Another slap, and your muscles melted into the ottoman and your legs parted wider to brace for the next impact. 

But it didn’t come.  Instead, he pulled back and cleaned off his slick smeared fingers along the side of your thigh.

“This, sweetheart, is just a warm-up,” his low, sardonic voice crooned, as his hands snagged in your hair and arched you back far enough to see him towering behind you.  The back of your head hit the front of his thighs.  “I’ll try to take it slow this time, but no promises.”

Oh fuck, he was good, you shuddered at the thought.  The unknown.  The waiting.  The surprise.  He ticked the boxes of your kink like he wrote the book himself.  Like he’d been paying attention.  You almost broke scene in your gratitude, but you kept your eyes trained up at him, wondering if he could see it written all over your face.

He must’ve, because for a moment, he broke too.  A subtle crinkle at the corners of his eyes, a brief softness that you would’ve missed if you blinked.  Just before he bent down lower, and spit on your face.

He released your hair as you sputtered in shock when it hit your closed lips with a warm splat.  Your tongue darted out to taste the small piece of himself he offered to you.  Not a kiss so much as a wad of spit on the palm to seal the deal.  A promise to take care of you.

As you moved to catch the drop that rolled down your chin, he took hold of your wrists and held them above your head.  With a quickness that left your mind spinning, he knotted a loop of smooth rope around each one, binding them together like a sturdy set of cuffs.  He slung another loop over the exposed wooden beam along the ceiling.

Handy, you thought as he tied it off with a slipknot that left you hanging up on your tip toes.  Once again, the ottoman slid underneath you, but this time you kneeled on it.  He eyed you up and down, making sure you were secure before letting go of the steadying arm at your waist.

You weren’t weightless.  You knew this about yourself.  No one picked you up and carried you around because you were so tiny and pocket-sized.  You were just a woman, and hadn’t met someone big enough to throw you around like you were made of air.

You had substance.  You were made of things.  Matter and atoms, and particles, or whatever.  Flesh and bones.

So, when you hung there suspended, it felt like a dream, and all you could do was focus on the parts of you that felt contact.  Your wrists.  Your knees.  The ropes that cut into your skin, the plushness that kept you from hitting the floor.  You established your center of gravity and braced for the worst with an anticipatory thrumming low in your belly.  Deep within the cradle of your hips.

Nothing would pitch you over.  You could take anything. 

True to his word of being honest about what he was going to do, he flashed the paddle in front of you.  As wide as his hand, it was made of wood and wrapped in leather.  It made Ghost’s crop look like a feather duster.

You let out a clarifying breath through your teeth, licking at your spit-soaked lips to find that tether.  To his promise that burned sweet like spearmint and menthol tobacco.

“Anything you want say before we start?”  His rough-edged voice posed both challenge and threat.

It was the first stop on the train, you reminded yourself.  And he was making sure you knew you could get off anytime.

“No, sir—”

The words barely left your lips before he delt the first blow.  The slap of leather to skin echoed through the house, bounced off the windows and the walls. 

You didn’t scream, not yet, but the sting welled in your eyes to match the blooming fire on your ass.  When the second one swiftly followed, and even harder than the first, you nearly swallowed your tongue to stifle a gasp, wondering if he wanted to hear you. 

But you weren’t an actress.  This wasn’t for show.  If he wanted to hear you scream, to see you cry, he had to earn it.  Right there alongside you.

The third and fourth came slower and with slightly less force, but the fifth nearly rattled your teeth. 

“Oh, fuck!”  You finally exclaimed, no longer able to blink back the tears.  

“You liked that one, did you?”  He had the nerve to laugh behind you.  Was he emboldened by your feedback?  Was he enjoying this as much as you?

It wasn’t long before you lost track of how many whacks you’d taken.  He didn’t bother counting them aloud like some clock ticking away the time.  There wasn’t a limit.  The only one who could stop it was you.

“Had enough, yet?”  He checked in, winded from his own exertion. 

“No, sir.”  The words came slower, as if you had to pluck them out of a messily discarded pile in some dark corner, the more your strength drained away.  You were so close.  Right there on the brink.  You could see it like a trail disappearing over the horizon.

A steadying hand found your shoulder, squeezed warm and firm, as he moved closer behind you.  Enough to whisper in your ear.

“I’m not going to stop until you break.”

With the last command, and a final searing crack, you felt the fresh gush of squirt as you finally let go.  The scream you’d been waiting for.  That maybe he had been, too.

The sweet release that stole your breath and your mind, and dragged you all the way under.  And he hadn’t even touched you.  There was no vibrator strapped to your thigh.  Just a gentle hand on your shoulder.  The polarity to the abuse on your ass.  Nerves flayed and blown wide, you still needed the one thing that would pull you back together.

“Touch me, please,” you whimpered, with a voice hoarse from crying.  “I need to come.”  Deep in the subspace, you sagged limply against your bonds. 

“I can’t deny you anything, sweetheart.  Not when you ask so nicely.”

He pulled the quick release on the rope and caught you against his chest.  Sitting back on his chair, he held you facing forward onto his lap.  You were boneless, propped up only where he held you tightly in his grip.  Careful not to hold your neck, he instead wrapped his forearm under your breasts, cupping one in his palm through the thin silk fabric of your slip and pinning your bound wrists to your chest.

His other hand started at your mound of curls and trailed lower, parting the folds to slowly reach the tender bud at its apex.  He brushed it once, twice, before reaching lower.  Swirling circles around your opening, tracing along the trembling rim before gliding back up again. 

You squirmed weakly against his hips, desperate to touch him back.  To guide his hand where you wanted him to go, but you were helpless to do anything but weather his patience.  To be led at the pace he set.

His beard grazed the top of your shoulder and along the side of your neck.  In your addled brain, you imagined that he kissed you there, that his lips and tongue and teeth met skin.  That the ragged breaths of his need matched your own.

As his thumb worked the pearl of your clit in faster, deliberate circles, those thick fingers you suckled earlier slid deep into your walls.  The achingly tight stretch, combined with the precious friction brought you to a roaring climax of moaned oaths and sounds you’d never heard before.

“You did so good.”  You felt his hot breath against your shoulder as you shattered around him, along with a quick, supportive peck of his soft lips.  Too soft and too brief to register over the riot in your blood.  “I’m feeling generous.  Let’s try something else.”

A pouty whine of doubt was all you could offer, still in the incomparable thrall of an orgasm in subspace.  You couldn’t say no.  So deep under his sway, you’d give him anything.  Let him do anything.  There was no room for resistance in that vast, cloudy place. 

But you didn’t know what else was left.  What laid ahead was too far beyond your reach.

No thoughts, only sensations.  You couldn’t even focus enough to see beyond the fog.  All that held you up was the sound of his voice.  The strength of his arms as he lifted and turned your dead weight, hooking your wrists around his neck.  His hand never leaving your throbbing cunt.

“None of that.  You’ll like it, I promise.  But you’ll have to trust me.”  He curled his fingers forward, hooking deeper in a way that had you muffling your wild shrieks into his chest.  “You do, don’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, until he pulled his fingers away.  You clenched down harder and sank against them, but he slipped them free despite the protest.

“Words, remember?  Need to know you’re still with me.”  He swatted your cheek with the same sticky, wet palm.  Not enough to hurt, but it pulled you back out just enough to speak.

“Yes,” you answered, biting your lip to see if it was still there.  That you weren’t just a cloud of disembodied mist.  “I trust you,” as another slap opened your eyes to meet his. 

He really expected you to keep up the formalities after what just happened?  The world was a different place.  Surely the continents had shifted, and the oceans had dried up.

But there he was, you noted as he came into focus.  You hadn’t just imagined him.  Those signal fires lit up to guide you once more through the dark.  There was a freckle on his nose.  A dimple just above his beard.  He seemed to pause as well, and you realized how firmly he was pinched with restraint.  How tightly he held his own need for release. 

If it was a word he wanted, you’d give it to him.

“Sir,” you finally finished, with a small smile pulling at your tingling cheek.

“There’s a girl,” he said with a low chuckle, as he carried you to a different room.

One that smelled like sandalwood and citrus, with walls of such a bright white that you buried your face further into his shoulder to shield your eyes from it.  The fuzzy, light flannel was a soothing contrast to the sting at your backside.  It still pulsed and burned with each course of blood through the muscle and fat.

“You made quite a mess of yourself, I’m afraid.  Need to clean you up.”  The sound of creaking metal and the spray of water were harsh to your ears.

A strangled sound escaped your lips, half a cry, half a whimper.  This was going to hurt.  Your overexerted pussy perked up at the prospect of it.  It was a devious little thing, swollen and puffy with eagerness that your body could survive another round of punishment.

No, it wasn’t punishment, you corrected yourself.  It was what you needed.

He set you down slowly onto the closed toilet seat, untied your hands and pulled the silk shift up over your head like a doll being undressed and put to bed.  The sleek porcelain was so cool against your bare skin that you shivered at the loss of its paltry heat. 

“I’m right here.”

Keeping his eyes on you and his hands not far away, lest you fall over, he arranged a chair made of PVC pipe into the open shower area and stripped from his own clothes with a quickness that spoke to his own enthusiasm.  It was either that, or a natural efficiency with which he did all things. 

Pants, shirt, boots.  Until all that was left was the dark hair that covered him in varying degrees of masculine thickness from head to toe, and his briefs.  An erection tented the fabric to such a painful degree that you reached out for it, only to be distracted away.

“This one’s all about you.  Don’t tempt me to change my mind,” he slanted you a look that guaranteed you’d regret it as he mouthed at the back of your hand absently.

Two kisses?  You could get greedy for them if you weren’t careful.

But before you could muster any disappointment, he had you by the arms again and positioned you over the makeshift chair.  You sat astride it, with your ass facing just out of the stream of water and an opening below for easy access between your legs.  Your tits draped over the top.

He kneeled in front you, all the better to watch you to submit to him, when your rational brain was clamoring to find your safe word.  Abraded skin meeting hot water was a next level consequence that you weren’t prepared to face with him.

You usually did that part alone with a bottle of wine, your comfort candle, and your favorite movie waiting for you on the softness of your sofa.

But the endorphins that kept you down in the subspace also kept you pliant, giddy with desire.  Fearless.  Reckless, you would’ve argued, if you’d been in some other state of mind. 

Not when you still felt the aftershocks of bliss, and the rawness of your paddling.  Instead, you did your best not to flinch as he directed the steaming water along your skin.  Where you expected a searing torture, there was instead a satisfying burn.  Just shy of scalding.  Just shy of too much.  It heated you up like a cauterizing iron to a wound.  A healing type of hurt. 

Unlike a misplaced hand shying away from a hot stove, you leaned into it.  Arched against it like a bear to tree bark.  That itch you’d never been able to reach.  Dark and subterranean, it skittered around underneath, unable to be caught by the light.

And just when you thought you’d had enough—when the nerves began to die out under the overwhelming blaze—he turned it up hotter still.  A new wave of pleasure and pain, as the backs of his knuckles caressed the needy patch of your sex. 

Violence on one side, and serenity on the other.  Like two sides of a coin flipping end over end into an infinite universe.  It built a force within you that finally collapsed on itself, consuming you whole.  Slower, and somehow more shocking in its intensity than the first.

“Is this how stars are made?”  The last dizzying thought before you slipped beyond reach.

You awoke as if from a dream some time later, with your head in his lap and wrapped in a velvety soft gray robe.  Big enough to fit you like a blanket, it must’ve been his.  The clarity hit you fast, and you sat up with a start.  The waiting surge of adrenaline that always followed a scene found you well-rested. 

“I am so sorry.”

“Easy now.  Here, drink this.”  He adjusted himself to move with you, not letting you go as you tried to bolt, and tipped a bottle full of water towards your lips.

It even had a straw.  How thoughtful. 

“Thank you,” you added, not able to meet his assessing gaze.  Had you even said that yet?  Where were your manners?

“You’re welcome,” he answered breezily.  As if not really knowing what to say himself.

Probably because you squirted all over his expensive looking ottoman and said weird things about turning into a constellation when you came your brains out.

“I don’t want to keep you any longer.  I didn’t mean to take up your whole day.”  You looked at the clock and couldn’t believe it was already evening.

How long had he sat there just holding you?  Your empty stomach reminded you of the food you’d meant to stop for on the way home.

“Are you hungry?  I can order dinner if you want to stay a bit longer.”  He sounded more confident after you’d drained the water and handed it back to him.

You never wanted to leave the cocoon he’d wrapped you in, but it was best to take it slow as you stood to find your discarded clothes tucked behind the sofa. 

“I actually made plans, but next time, yeah?”  You assured him, when he looked at you so vulnerably that you reached for him.  It was only a brief touch to his forearm, but he seemed surprised by it.  “Will you send me your availability?”

A shitty way to say, “You just changed my life,” but you hoped there would be a next time.  That there was still more you could do for each other. You still had to hold up your end of the bargain.

“My calendar’s wide open, sweetheart.”

[sugoroo]

warnings: fem!reader, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, body worship, suguru has a tongue piercing, cum eating, tooth-rottingly sweet! 18+ minors dni.

wc: 475

an: lil drabble while i work on some longer fics! mostly self indulgent. for my fellow suguru girlies <3

thinking about mutual worship with suguru.

you'd be on your knees, your hands resting lovingly on his thighs as you slid him all the way down your small throat. it was always a difficult fit, but you would try your best to take as much as you could.

"mmm. such a good girl for me," suguru would rasp out, one of his large hands tangling in your hair as he gently stroked some messy strands out of your face so he could have an unobstructed view of your pretty eyes.

there was something so beautiful about the way you looked up at him with his cock stuffing up your mouth, the way you ran your tongue across the underside of his length and suckled softly on his pudgy tip feeling utterly worshipful.

and when he'd inevitably finish, his eyes rolling back in his head and his hand unconsciously holding you in place, he'd be unable to hold back the groans and almost-whimpers that escaped his mouth when he watched your cheeks puff up with his goopy cum.

you would always swallow without missing a beat, even flickering out your little pink tongue to catch any pearly drops that threatened to ooze from your lips.

and of course, suguru would be more than happy to return the favour. there was nothing he loved more than having you splayed out and open for him, pretty pussy glistening with need.

he'd always take his time when he was between your legs, able to spend many hours at a time there — his pierced tongue moving over your sensitive skin with long, languid licks, gathering as much as your sweet syrupy juices on his tastebuds as possible.

"always taste so good, baby." suguru would groan against you, his lips peppering kisses across your soft folds before delving back into your dripping hole, the small metal ball on the end of his tongue brushing all against your gummy walls.

there was no sound he cherished more than the sweet mewls and moans you'd let out as he scissored his long fingers inside of you, his tongue lapping between your folds.

and when you would finally fall apart for him, he'd drink down everything you offered without hesitation, placing one last loving kiss against your pussy before pulling back.

the two of you would always clean eachother up afterwards with warm, damp cloths before crawling into bed together, cuddling up under the blankets in a cocoon of satisfaction and love.

"i love you, sweet girl," suguru would murmur against your hair, placing a kiss atop the crown of your head before pulling you even closer into his embrace. "can i ask you something?"

"love you too, sugu." you would hum happily in response, snuggling further against his warm chest with a soft smile. "y'know you can ask me anything."

"wanna get married?"

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[alastwhorez]

may i request something where reader watches alastor undress. him slowly taking off his coat… sliding off the straps of his suspenders… rolling his sleeves up to his elbows…

Talking Body

♡ Pairing: Human!Alastor x Afab!Reader

♡ summary: Alastor has been neglecting you lately, so he decides to give you a show.

♡ warnings: 18+, MDNI, stripping, needy reader, neglected reader, masturbation, voyeurism, bodily fluids, Alastor is a tease, pet names. I think that is everything.

♡ an: Thank you so much for the request. I hope you enjoy! Not proofread, possible spelling errors

The day was long and boring. Being a stay at home wife you tend to run out of things to do by the end of the week. All the chores were finished and dinner was in the oven.

You were glad it was finally time for your husband to get home. You've missed him dearly. He has been working late hours at the radio station the past several weeks. Not returning home till late in the night, long after you have finally gone to sleep. This morning however Alastor had promised you he would be home on time. Telling you he had a surprise for you.

Since your husband has been working late he has started to neglect you intimately. Alastor was never one for physical contact but he always made sure you were taken care of.

You checked the clock and saw you still had about an hour before he should return Home and another twenty minutes for the food to cook. You decided it was a perfect time to take care of the ache between your legs.

You spread out on the couch, hiked your dress up over your hips and pulled the top down to expose your tits. Your hand trailed down your body till you found your Clothed cunt. You push your panties to the side and rub your finger up and down before finding your bundle of nerves. After a few minutes you slip a finger inside and start pumping.

You whine because it's not as good as Alastors cock, doesn't stretch you the same way. You speed up fingers trying to find release when the door slams Open.

Alastor is standing in the doorway with flowers and a shocked look on his face when his eyes land on you. You gasp and stop moving.

“My my my, what is my lovely wife doing?” He says smirking in a teasing tone.

Your mouth hangs open not knowing how to respond. “Couldn't wait for your dear old husband to come home? Tsk tsk tsk” He shakes his head back and forth. “Just what am I going to do with you darlin'?”

He shuts the door with his foot as he walks into the living room, playing the flowers on the coffee table. He grabs your hand and takes you to your shared bedroom.

He pushes you down gently to sit on the bed as he grabs a chair and places it in front of you in the middle of the room. He sits down and spreads his legs wide.

“I suppose I have been neglectful these past few weeks, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to touch yourself.”

You whine in embarrassment

“Now you're going to be a good girl and sit there and behave yourself. Bad girls don't get rewarded.”

You nod your head as you bite your lip

“You're going to keep those pretty eyes on me and you aren't going to move a muscle. Understand love?

You nod again and he whispers good girl.

You watch as Alastor takes off his jacket and hat, sitting them beside you on the bed, then you watch as he loosens his bowtie, pulling the fabric and twisting his head back and forth. Next he unbuttons the sleeve of his shirt and slowly starts to roll the right sleeve, exporting his toned, tanned arms, next me moves to the left side rolling even slower.

His eyes stay on you the whole time, a slight smirk on his face when you fidget on the bed and play with your fingers.

He spreads his legs further apart as he trails his hand slowly down his body stopping at his belt, he tilts his head to the side when your breath hitches. Laughing he slowly undoes the buckles and makes a shower of pulling the leather out of his lands. He folds it up and sits it beside you.

He runs his hand back up his chest and stops at his bowtie. He removes it, throwing it towards you. He fists his suspenders before slowly sliding them off his shoulders and removing them completely. His hand then lands on the first button of his shirt. He slowly starts unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time.

Your legs are rubbing together at this point and you're fisting the sheets on the bed. Alastor is smirking at you as he continues to agonizingly Slow undoing his shirt. When He finishes he lets it hang open and you have to hold back a groan from how delicious he looks.

He slowly lets the fabric fall down his shoulders then His arms, letting it hit the floor. He leans back in the chair and stretches. You watch as his Muscles Flex as he moves. He raises an eyebrow at you as you rub your legs together harder.

His hands run back down his chest and stop at his pants. He lifts his hips up slowly then sits back down. He unbuttons them and slowly slides the zipper down. His eyes are trained on you as he pushes them down his hips then down his legs. He folds them and sits them on the bed then he removes his socks next.

He's left in nothing but his boxers and you moan at the sight. He chuckles as your flushed face. You've hiked your dress back up because of your fisting the fabric. You can see the outline Of his cock and a wet spot forming on his boxers. He lifts his hips and slowly slides them down,leaving them forgotten on the floor.

You suck in a breath at his naked figure. His cock stands tall, leaking. He notices you biting your lip and decides to tease you some more. He wants to see how long you can control yourself.

He fists his cock, giving it a squeeze before lazily stroking it.

“Alastor” you say breathlessly and be chuckles

“What darlin'? I said good girls get rewarded and you've been a bad girl. Touching yourself While I'm Gone”

You whine

You can see the tip glisten from how much he is leaking. it's spilling over onto his fist acting as lubrication. He speeds up his first and moans your name as he throws his head back. While he isn't looking you lean back and spread your legs, pulling your panties down.

When Alastor looks back at you he is met with your cunt on full display and his breath hitches. You suck a finger into your mouth before it finds your bundle of nerves And you start rubbing. You throw your head back and moan, back arching.

He says your Name more stern this time and you moan out his name “Oh Alastor, faster”

He groans and his fist Matches the speed of your finger. Your other hand comes down and you slip a finger in then two. He cups his balls as he watches you matching your pace.

You're both moaning and growing, trying to outlast the other.

“fuck” He curses. Something he hardly ever does. “Look at you. All spread out and giving me a show. So pretty baby, prettiest I've ever seen ya.”

“Alastor! Yes, just like that” you scream as you add a third finger and speed up your pumping.

Alastor grits his teeth feeling his release coming. Your back arches as you feel yours.

“Squeezing me so well baby, pussy was made for me”

You moan feeling that familiar heat flood your senses. You scream his name as you cum all over your fingers.

Alastor moans your name, his eyes rolling back as he shoots his load all over his first. The sight of you pushing him over the edge.

You both sit there for a moment catching your breath. Alastor gets up out of the chair and crawls on top of you.

“That Was a good show darlin’ but how ‘bout I give you the real thing?”

[lyneira]

-> "Your sweet boyfriend, Suguru Geto, who will indulge in your hobbies to make you happy, also secretly enjoys leaving their c*m in your underwear."

SMUT - MINORS DNI

suguru geto x fem!reader / cw: cunnilingus, masturbation

lyneira's (18+) mini event: Your Sweet Boyfriend!

@strawberrylabs 's result!

Geto believes he's a good boyfriend. No, he knows he's a good boyfriend. Despite having to be frequently away from you for the sake of his greater goal, how else could he be making you smile whenever he had the chance to be with you if he wasn't?

He knows what makes you happy and gladly invests in it. That was typically what you two would do together each time he had time to visit. That wonderful grin on your face was always enough to confirm things were still going well between you both. He couldn't help but mirror your expression either. He was truly glad for it.

Yet, that doesn't mean he never missed you while he was away. Oftentimes, he would have to be away for a while, and it can get lonely. He would miss your presence, your scent, your aura, the feeling you gave him when you were around; he'd miss all of it.

It would be for this reason that he would begin to take some of your things each time before he would leave your home. Sometimes, it would be a bracelet, a necklace, or some other small accessory of yours. Though, during these recent times, the things he would take a particular liking to would be your panties.

They gave him that feeling of you that your accessories didn't quite have. Unlike the silver and gold, your panties retained much of your scent and your essence. It would remind him of each time he would pull them off and ravage what they were hiding underneath: your sweet, sweet cunt.

Each recollection of those moments had him breathing heavily with lust and had him feeling hot with desire.

Therefore, he would hold your scrunched up panties to his nose, intaking your intimate scent, while he would pull out his cock and begin to stroke himself.

With each inhale, he would go through memories of sucking your cunt, licking away at your pearl before inserting his tongue into your hole, exploring the wet cavern. He would recall your soft moans as the muscle would dive deeper and rub at a certain spongy spot that had you holding onto his head for dear life. More so when he would be circling the tip of his finger on your sensitive bud, your legs would be shaking violently around his head as you were about to reach your high. And when he remembers how you would finally let your juices flood into his mouth from all the stimulation, so would he quickly put down your panties and allow his seed to pour all over them.

This is what happened every time he had to leave you. This was evidence of how much he missed you and craved you. But don't worry. He would always return this evidence back to you like the good boyfriend he is.

© 2023 lyneira. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE, OR REPOST MY WRITING ONTO OTHER PLATFORMS

[slxt4chriss]

・₊Company‎₊・ M.S.

・₊ Singer y/n is dating Matt and thinks no one knows!

・₊ Inspo from: @sturniqlo and her fic Pretty Girl high key recommend it’s very good! Matt - 💚 Y/n - 🩷 -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Warnings: SFW, fluff, kissing, NSFW at the bottom, smut, implied make out sesh, that’s all!! ENJOY!

A/N: This is not copying sturniqlos fic, these are head canons that are inspired by her story line! Please keep hate off of this page!! -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

SFW

-・₊SingerY/n! Who: thinks nobody knows her and Matt are dating and have been for years. -・₊SingerY/n who: sneaks little kisses to Matt when she goes back stage for an outfit change!

“Baby I have to go back on stage!” she giggled “One more!” Matt chuckled kissing her once more before she disappeared into the flashing green lights.

-・₊SingerY/n who: Steals little glances at him behind the crowd in between song switches.

“Hi!” She mouthed behind her mic to her adorable boyfriend recording her for his camera roll.

-・₊SingerY/n who: Secretly dedicated her love songs to the love of her life.

“You think I could get away with one more song about Matt and the fans would think it’s just for the career?” She asked her producer downing a coka-cola in the process of recording a song for her new album.

NSFW

-・₊SingerY/n who: Gets a quick head sesh in while the other performer sings for the opening act of her world tour.

“F-fuck Matt, hurry I don’t, nnngh, wanna miss the show, my god” she panted as he lapped at her sopping core.

-・₊SingerY/n who: Gives Matt a blowjob after she comes back from traveling out of the U.S.

“Fuck, Y/n just like that baby, holy shit” he pants as she bobs her head up and down his throbbing length

-・₊SingerY/n who: Gets railed after every show no matter how tired, sometimes even half asleep. Going on stage with jello legs the next day.

“nngh, mattttt” she moaned as he thrusted into her sloppily, both half asleep as it was 4:00 in the morning and her latest show had ended hours ago. “Fuck! One more minute babe, your okay.” He pants as he chases his release.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. A/N: low-key hate the smut parts but I have to post something since I haven’t in so long!😭 anyways I love you thank you for reading. Also if you would like to be tagged just comment under my docs I’ll be happy to add you!!🎀

-Stay kind stay hot y’all, xoxo gossip girl💋

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

One For The Road [5]

Cecil Dennis x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Series Masterlist

Summary: Staying over with Cecil is all going well until a surprise guest turns up.

A/N: More huge thank yous to @thexsanctuaryx for beta reading <3 and dealing with all my NonsenseTM.

Warnings: sleepy sex, p in v sex, cream pie, fingering, reader has a job where they work on Friday - but not on weekends, THERE BE SOME ERM ANGST COMING, I'M SORRY, swearing, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1893

It’s about 5am when you wake up in Cecil’s bed. He’s sprawled out on his back, his left arm hanging off the side while his right hand is resting gently on your forearm. He looks so peaceful, dead to the world and angelic with how his curls fan out against the pillows. 

The fact that it’s Friday, and you have work in a few hours annoys you to no end. Really you should be getting up, heading back to yours to eat and shower and change, but all you want to do is stay in the comfort of blankets with him just a little while longer. 

You sigh and get out of bed. 

You grab your phone from the side table and head to the bathroom and close the door softly, not that you think you’d wake Cecil, he seems like a pretty deep sleeper, but you want to be on the safe side just in case.

You call your work, knowing no one will be in yet, a little spark of glee growing in your chest. You leave a voicemail, saying you’ve had a family emergency in the night and won’t be able to make it in today.

Getting fucked so hard you might have seen god was an emergency, right? 

Besides, this was the first time you’ve ever called to say you weren’t coming in. You deserved today off as a little treat. Before you head back you make sure you’ve turned your morning alarms off.

Cecil mumbles in his sleep as you get back into bed, turning onto his side and curling up next to you. He nuzzles your neck as he lets out a contented sigh and you quickly fall back to sleep in his embrace. 

.

There’s a syrupy warmth against your neck, a soft gliding touch on your hip. You keep your eyes closed for a minute, vaguely aware that you’re still half dreaming. 

And then Cecil’s hitched breathing works its way into your foggy head. 

He moans lightly, trying to stay quiet and failing as he sucks and kisses your skin, running his lips over your jaw as he presses his chest to your back and ruts his weeping cock against the swell of your ass. 

He murmurs your name as you stir and lean into him, whining as you rock back. 

“So-sorry,” he mutters, his voice thick with sleep and arousal. “I just got so…” He gasps softly, moaning into your neck, “I was dreaming about you and…” 

He swallows, the sound echoing in your ear as he squeezes your hip, guiding your movements for a second before he trails his fingers around and slips to the heat between your legs.

He groans loudly at the wetness he finds, shivers as he presses firmer, drags the tips of his fingers through your folds before he circles your clit in tight soft circles. 

“Shit,” you reach behind you and grab at him, sinking your fingers into his thick curls at the back of his head. 

He whines, gasping and moaning happily, “Oh, is that good?” He shudders, practically begging you to praise him. “You’re so wet,” he buries his face into your shoulder for a second to gather himself, “You really like me, don’t you?” The little whimper at the end breaks your heart. 

“Of course, I like you, dummy,” you breathe hard, hooking your leg over his hip so he’s got easier access. 

He sobs in bliss as he ruts against you harder, sinking two of his thick fingers inside as he rubs your clit like he’s playing guitar. 

Your back arches as he caresses your walls, a high-pitched whine breaking past your lips. “Cecil, fuck.” 

He moans after every stroke, the sounds of your pleasure making him lightheaded and dizzy. Weight settles low in his stomach, his cock practically buzzing from length to tip. 

You move your head, licking into his mouth with a whimper and long, lazy stroke of your tongue. 

He presses closer, trying to blend your bodies together through pure strength of will as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, pushing you higher and higher to your peak.

You swear, your thighs start to shake and muscles tense. “Cecil,” normally you’d hate how desperate you sound, how needy, but now you couldn’t care less. “You, you get tested regularly right?” 

It takes him a moment to answer, but his movements don’t falter, his body too far gone to even pause. “Yeah, yeah, got to, to give blood, and, ohhh shit, I don’t, I don’t, I’ve never done it without a condom on and-”

You don’t think you can wait, you want him inside, want both of you connected as deeply as possible. It’s stopping you from thinking straight. 

You angle yourself, pressing your pussy firmly against his length and he groans, his eyes rolling back. “I’m on birth control, I, you could just-”

Cecil doesn’t need to be told twice, he notches himself at your entrance and bucks his hips forward softly, slipping in smooth and deep. 

You cry out as he stretches you, his girth simultaneously soothing that deep ache as well as adding fuel to the fire. 

His own cries harmonise with yours as you push back against him, pulling him further inside. 

“Baby, baby,” he groans, bucking lightly to work himself in, still toying with your clit as he bottoms out. “Oh god, shit, fuck, taking me so well,” he whines. “Ah- ah- feels so good.” He thrusts into you roughly, biting hard at his bottom lip until he feels you tense and writhe. “There? There?” 

You nod, hardly able to speak as pleasure rushes up through you and blinds you to anything but bliss. 

“Gonna make me cum,” he whines, tears in his eyes, “Gonna- gonna make me fill you up, shit,” he rocks with you, hitting devastatingly inside in time with the paralysing strokes of his fingers. “Never been bareback before,” his voice rises in pitch to almost breaking point. 

You don’t know why, but that’s what sets you off. Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere, pulling you down as you cry out his name in a breathless scream. 

Cecil gasps, tenses as you flutter and squeeze his cock. He comes a second later, pressing his chest as close to your back as physically possible as your walls milk him dry. 

You both breathe hard, sweaty as you recover, your hearts beating in sync. 

He kisses your neck lightly. “Thank you.” 

You chuckle with how sweet he sounds, “You don’t have to thank me silly.” 

“I know.” He grins, “But manners.” 

You laugh and turn your head to kiss his cheek. “Was that okay?”

He nods, pulling a face, “Was that okay? You just fucked my brains out, of course it was okay.” 

He kisses your lips, smiling and then suddenly pulls back, horror on his face, “Shit, it’s Friday? What time is it? You got work! Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, I-”

“Cec, Cec, Cec,” you pat his hair until he focuses on you and you give him a cheeky smile. “I called in, said I couldn’t come in today.”

He stares at you dumbfounded for a moment, before his eyes light up. “You did?” 

You nod.

He squeals in joy and kisses all over your face rapidly. 

You wriggle, giggling. “Stop, stop, stop, you’re gonna fall out and make a mess on your sheets.” 

He snorts but snuggles closer, managing to keep his softening cock inside. “I don’t care.” 

“I do.” You laugh.

“Okay, I care then.” He squeezes you in a tight hug. “I’m so happy. We can hang out today… if you want?” 

“I want.” 

He grins widely. 

“I was thinking we could go to mine? Hang out all weekend.” 

You’ve never seen him look so happy. 

“Three day weekend!” He giggles, “But you can kick me out if you get fed up with me-”

“Shh.” You kiss him. 

“Okay.” He pauses, and then wriggles his eyebrows at you, “I have a plan, I make pancakes, we eat. We go to yours, we fuck on every surface in your house in every position we can get in, we eat, we watch some porn, we fuck some more and repeat?” 

You laugh loudly, loving his shameless smile. “Sounds great.” 

He punches the air with his fist. “Three day wee- oh shit,” he grabs at his cock, giggling as he slips out of you and lunges for the tissues. 

.

Cecil makes pancakes as you have a quick shower. He’d offered to find you something to wear, but you’d opted to just put on your pyjamas as you’d only be in the car and then back to your home. 

As you’re drying yourself you hear the doorbell and knocking. Harry must have forgotten his keys. 

A little worm of anxiety wriggles in your chest. It was obvious that you had stayed the night, there was no way around that. But, as you think on it, you realise pleasantly that you don’t mind. It would be kind of nice for Harry to know. 

Cecil’s phone buzzes from the bedroom and there’s more knocking. Harry definitely forgot his keys. 

You smile as you hear Cecil go to the door. 

It quickly disappears when you hear the yelling. 

You dress quickly, and rush downstairs, stopping at the last step. 

There’s a lady screaming at Cecil as she stands just in the doorway. He looks lost, panicked as he stares blankly at her. 

“You should be ready! What the fuck Cecil?! It’s literally the first appointment, you fucking said you’d support me!”

“I, I, Danielle, what? What are you doing here?”

He barely gets the words out before she cuts him off. “Oh, you think you can just fucking get away with it? Throw me out like trash? I’ll take you to court!”

“Danielle, that’s not what I meant-”

“You’re paying every fucking cent for this baby!”

“Dan-”

“And don’t you think!” She stops, her line of sight suddenly landing on you. You swallow. “Who the fuck is this?” 

Cecil whips around, his eyes large and panicked, a baby deer in a forest seeing a hunter for the first time. The look he gives you hurts, the pinch of pain on his forehead. The shininess to his eyes. 

“I…” He starts.

“Already trying to knock up someone else Cecil?” Danielle screams, the volume of it hurting your head.

“No!” He says quickly, “Danielle, I thought you told me the 20th? It’s the 12th, otherwise-”

“You’re so full of shit!” She steps forward and for a sickening second you think she’s going to hit him. 

Cecil flinches back, but instead, Danielle looks at you.

When she speaks it’s quieter, though not by much. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but Cecil is my baby’s,” she grabs her stomach for emphasis, “father and he’s coming with me to this appointment.” 

You nod. 

She nods back, staring at you for a second before she grabs Cecil by the arm.

He turns to you, dread squeezing his heart, “I didn’t- I’m sorry- this- I should have- please,” Danielle pulls him out of the house as he gazes beseechingly at you. 

The door slamming closed breaks you out of your stupor. 

And then the weight settles on your heart as all your thoughts come rushing forward at once.

Thank you for reading!

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[toiletclown]

breathless. (part two.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

mostly fluff, a little angst.

part two of probably 5/6 (i can't stop writing this fic)

summary: to 'train' for an upcoming guitar hero stream, you head to spencer's for the first time in weeks. the tension is thick, and you have to call your best friend, angela, for some input. your feelings were growing to lengths you weren't sure you could handle -- but what other choice do you have?

word count: 2251 (7000+ remaining)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It was not fine. The AC in Spencer’s apartment had broken sometime between him going into the office and him coming back home. He sent you a text to let you know, and even offered to bring all his stuff to yours if that was easier, but you knew how many cords and controllers that entailed and told him it was fine, you’d just wear something you’d be comfortable in.

However, you were not prepared for just how warm his apartment was. You came over in a cropped baby tee and some comfy shorts, but you had worn a very thin cardigan over the shirt, hoping it would be thin enough you could keep it on. But alas, the world was constantly against you, and about fifteen minutes into your visit you knew you had to shed the layer. The windows were open but there was no breeze, and the standing fan and ceiling fan were working overtime. 

So here you were, standing in Spencer’s living room, attempting to hide your Guitar Hero skills while also trying to hide your discomfort. Honestly, you weren’t even sure why you were uncomfortable. It’s Spencer. He’s seen you in worse. At least this outfit is cute, right? When you finally pulled yourself out of your thoughts, you realized you were beating Spencer in 1v1 by a country mile. What the hell was he doing? You knew he was good at this game, and despite you purposefully missing every few notes and hitting the whammy bar much too late, he was still way, way behind.

You paused the game and turned to look at him. You had been standing in front of the couch, since it was a little harder to play the guitar when sitting down. He, however, was sitting on the couch in gym shorts he had no right to be wearing (They were so short that if he moved one inch the wrong way there would be a problem. Why did he pick such slutty little shorts??) and a Zelda triforce logo tank top. His arms were on full display, along with his gorgeous legs, and you had to admit your words got caught in your throat when you saw him. You hadn’t really looked at him with much precision when you arrived because you were more focused on how warm the apartment was, but now, seeing him with his leg balanced on his knee and the guitar lazily draped in his lap, you were borderline salivating.

“You okay, Peach?” He always called you that, since you had a penchant for snacking on peaches and preferred to play as Princess Peach whenever the two of you played Mario Party or Mario Kart. He never let it slip at work, but a part of you wanted him to. Just to see how someone else would react to it. Would they hear it as a platonic, long-term-friendship type of nickname, or would they pick up on a subtle romantic vibe beneath that? Was it crazy to want that romantic connotation? 

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay. Are you, though? I’m not very good at this and I’m still beating your ass. You good over there?” You willed your blush away at his nickname for you, knowing he, realistically, didn’t have any romantic implications behind it. You knew why he called you that, and it made sense. Let’s not think too hard on it, okay? No need to make a romantic mountain out of a friend-shaped mole hill.

Spencer sighed, opening and closing his mouth a few times before finding his words. “Yeah, sorry. The heat is kind of making my brain blank out, I guess.” He stood, pulling the string on his ceiling fan to move it from medium to high speed. You were silently wondering why it wasn’t already on high, but chose not to question him. You also knew he was lying. You’ve been friends with Spencer (on top of having severe unrequited feelings for him) for far too long, and you knew him better than he knew himself. You knew all of his tells, and currently, he was avoiding eye contact and picking at his right thumb, which he always did when he was nervous and/or lying.

You sat down next to him, still leaving some space due to the heat. You were both quite physically affectionate with one another, but lately you had both pulled back in that regard, though neither of you wanted to say anything about it. While he had basically stopped being touchy-feely altogether, you still attempted that contact sometimes. He didn’t react the way he used to.

“Spence, honey, I’ve known you far too long for you to lie to my face. What’s going on?” You voiced your concern with a gentle hand on his thigh, close enough to his knee that it didn’t come across wrong, but also far enough away from his knee that you felt a whoosh in your stomach. It was too late to move it now without him calling you on it, though, so you left it there.

He took a deep breath, seemingly gearing up for a word vomit. But instead he shook his head. “Sorry, I’m just dealing with some… personal stuff, I guess, and I was lost in my head. We can get back to it, I’m sorry, Y/N.” He patted your hand with his, before moving to grab the guitar again and start the game back up. You pulled your hand away, burning, and decided you needed to leave. 

“Oh, it’s… it’s okay. I’ll head out, leave you to your thoughts. You can always text me if you need me, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow?” You stood to start gathering your stuff, and you felt Spencer’s eyes on your back as you bent over to pet one of his cats. The cropped tee was definitely showing off more of you than he had seen before, so it was only natural for him to look. But you wondered what he was thinking, too.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. Sorry again about the AC being broken. Maintenance should be coming by soon,” Spencer supplied, walking with you to the door. “Hopefully I won’t have to sweat to death for much longer.”

You both laughed, and you held your arms out for a hug. Spencer hesitated, before returning the hug and reassuring you that he’ll see you tomorrow. You offered him a goodbye and told him you loved him, like you both did every time you parted. You didn’t miss the fact that he didn’t say it back this time.

//

Angela, please help me. You didn’t know who to talk to about this. Your thoughts had been a bubbling mess for hours at this point, and you couldn’t talk to Spencer, and you weren’t quite ready to talk to Courtney about it. Courtney should be your go-to about this situation, but you weren’t sure how to broach it. Hey, you went from coworkers to friends to lovers. How do I do that? wasn’t exactly the best icebreaker to get into the conversation. Angela had heard you vent many times before, and although you never, ever named Spencer in the conversations, you had no doubt that little Italian gremlin knew you were talking about him. Angela was very intuitive and just because you leave a few details out and refuse to use his name in conversation, that doesn’t mean she can’t pick up on everything else. Especially since Erin was clearly picking up on it. Among others.

What an ominous text to receive at 1am. What’s up babe? 

Holy fuck, was it that late already? You checked the time and sure enough, it was 1:03am. You’d been in your head for far longer than you thought.

Oh fuck I didn’t even realize it was that late lol my bad queen :(( we can hold off till tmr it’s nbd!

NOPE you’re not pulling that shit, ft me rn

You sighed, but it was near impossible to say no to Angela, so you turned your desk lamp on and hit the FaceTime button. You needed to get this out of your system soon anyway, it was starting to eat at you. With other people seeing it clear as day you felt as though you should probably work your feelings out before Spencer realized.

“Hello there my gorgeous best friend, what’s on your mind?” Angela was clearly in bed, face lit only by her phone and the fairy lights she kept strung up around her room. “Is it Spencer?”

Your face went pale at her question, which answered her for you. “Oh, so it is Spencer! Did you ask him out? Did he ask you out? When’s the wedding? Can I sing at the reception? Oh, that might be weird, right? What would I even sing? Oh, I know–”

“Angela.”

“Sorry, go on.”

She let you ramble on for a few minutes, starting from the beginning. When you were hired and instantly bonded with him. When the movie nights turned to movie sleepovers and the game nights turned to game weekends. When he got promoted to cast, then you got promoted, and suddenly your friendship felt different. The first Erin Dougal meme, the second Erin Dougal meme, and finally, whatever the fuck had happened tonight. The way he was distant, but not cold. The way you could feel his eyes on you, and the two times you caught him “lost in his thoughts” as Erin had phrased it. His lack of response when you told him you loved him tonight. That was what hurt the most. He had never left you hanging when you said it, and he said it more often than you did. At lunch, on set, while watching him play Fortnite. You always reassured each other in every aspect of life. And suddenly, it was like that reassurance and friendship was going dormant.

“I just don’t know what I did wrong, I guess? It seems like out of nowhere we lost our friendship and we’re back to being acquaintances, in a way. He’s not as touchy anymore, and he gets weird when I am. He rarely invites me over anymore. I haven’t stayed the night in months. And he didn’t say he loved me before I left tonight. He’s never not said it back. And like, why? What changed? What did I do wrong?” Once your word salad was out and in the open, Angela sat for a minute, thinking on how she wanted to respond.

“Okay, I have a question before we proceed.”

“Ask away.”

“Do you want me to respond as your best friend or as your coworker?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Only slightly.”

“Then as my best friend, please.” You took a breath in, knowing with this selection came some harsh words. If she was responding as your coworker she would be nothing but kind, but with the best friend response you knew she was going to drag you, hard. But at this point, you needed that, didn’t you?

“Y/N, my sunshine, my flower, my angel. He’s pulled back significantly as of late because he thinks that his feelings for you are one-sided.”

“His–”

“Don’t interrupt me, you clown!” 

“Okay!” You laughed along with your friend, knowing that this conversation was going to be hard but it was necessary.

“He sees all these things in a different light because, somewhere in the timeline of your friendship, he got it in his head that you would never reciprocate his feelings. So now, all those things he used to enjoy, almost hurt now. Your touch on his skin is no longer comforting, because he wants more. And he doesn’t think he’s capable of getting that. He’s scared. He doesn’t want to lose you, but he also is having trouble coping with the fact that he doesn’t know if he can ‘just be friends’ with you. Spencer might have held his façade quite well for quite some time, but it’s cracking now and he’s scared. He doesn’t want to lose his best friend, but he also doesn’t want to be strictly friends anymore. He wants to love you openly, and he thinks he can’t do that.”

“Jesus, Angela. How do you even know all this?” You were absorbing her words, letting them flow through you. Spencer thinks his romantic feelings for you are one-sided? Spencer has romantic feelings for you? What the hell is going on, man?

“Because three and a half minutes before you texted me, he also texted me. I was basically reading his text out loud, word-for-word. And before you yell at me for breaking his trust, you are my best friend and I am legally obligated to tell you everything, just like you are legally obligated to tell me everything. Even though you seem to think I can’t parse that the guy you’ve been obsessing and gushing over is Spencer despite your obvious phrasing. You're not as slick as you think, babe.”

You sat in silence for a moment, really trying to let everything sink in. Your feelings weren’t one sided. You had a chance with him. He didn't suddenly dislike you, or hate you, or not enjoy your company. It was just harder now. And that, that you understood, quite thoroughly.

“Ang, how do I unfuck this?”

“I already have a plan for you, Peach.”

You groaned, “Okay, that’s not fair!”

“I know, I know. So here’s what you're going to do…”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

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