#be barefoot like jesus | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tarjapearce · 5 months

Text

El Diablo Wears Prada (pt. 2)

Mafia! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Manhandling, mild degratadion, rough sex, mentions of protected sex, angry and unprotected sex, p in v, use of tracking device, smut, No proofread at all.

Summary: Upon new information revealed, El Diablo tries to pry information out of you.

A/N: Centuries later, here is part 2~ Hope you like :'). Feedback and reblogs much appreciated ❤️

The ride back at whatever place you were being taken was definitely taking a toll on your throat. He wasn't nice, nor charming as he initially had introduced himself as.

The coldness of his gun reminisced in your temple, his taste was loaded with so many things. Tangy, rich in anger and frustration, sprinkled with a dash of danger and violence. The perfect treat for someone willing to gain his favor.

Not you though. Not when he nearly choked you out with his cock, with the promise of training you into taking it better. You had to be useful for something, and his purpose was still unclear to you.

After you were released from his steely grip, he just chuckled while you scrambled away from his personal space, sitting deeper in the SUV. He was silent, sleepy almost.

Of course he'd be. After that whole workout session you were spent and quite sore. Hips ached in protest every time you decided to shift in your seat, all thanks to months of being untouched by Massimo.

It was unavoidable to not think about him. Had the police arrived? He certainly wasn't fine but it worried that he was left injured. Had he called someone? You didn't know and as tired as you were, your head truly would start steaming the more you thought about everything.

Ride was smooth. A bit too smooth that when you woke up your head rested on the soft part of the seat. Your mouth was ajar, body had relaxed a bit, enough for the soreness to subside.

He was slanted against the window, knuckles holding his sleepy head. Some fine lines above his forehead along some scarce white hairs out of stress. He looked like in his early to mid thirties.

The ring on his middle finger drew all the attention to it. Golden band with a red ruby in it. If you squinted you could see a bit of an inscription 'Acta non Verba'

Deeds, not words.

His personal mantra and what he actually preached. Miguel had been tired of warning Massimo, he was a patient man, but the fool of a husband you had was all the opposite.

You were certain that he hid things, but never in your life had you imagined that it would end up like this.

"Boss?"

The soft and apprehensive voice of Ben awoke him. Bored eyes turned to you to flash a smirk before opening the door. A ten floor building nested before you. Crystal windows, adorned the layout of the structure, not many people crossed this part of town, making it almost deserted. The only signs of some movements werw his agents scattered outside, that immediately turned their attention to him.

"Let's go" He didn't let you finish your thoughts as he pulled you out of the SUV, his grip steely. A wince rasped in your throat. It all took a slip of his hand for you to dart away in the opposite direction.

There was no people to turn to, none to scream for help yet you didn't care, the need of running away just increased tenfolds, even if you were barefoot and naked under his shirt.

"Jesus fucking christ."

In a few strides he caught you. Strong hands pulled you by your hair, yanking a bit too hard to draw some tears from your eyes while you fell on your butt. Hands immediately trying to pry his hold out of your hair, the henchmen outside just threw quiet and derisive snorts your way.

"Stop! It hurts!"

"Cállate!"

He roared and you remained still, too stunned and pained to actually protest as he pulled you up, you whimpered as your feet scrambled. It was like watching a hungry and pissed cat playing with his food. One of your tears fell on his hand, releasing you to grab your arm instead.

His grip only increased to make his point clear.

Shut The Fuck Up.

But you didn't, instead you yanked and pulled or at least attempted to get away from him, but his resolve was as steely as his grasp. Even if you fought, he wouldn't budge.

"Let me go!"

His brow quirked but instead of releasing into an explosive outburst, He grabbed your waist and threw you easily over his shoulder like a potato bag, Ignoring your wails and tantrums, tired of your antics.

Your yapping was silenced with a rough and stinging slap on your naked rear. It made your toes curl and whimper enough to cut the meltdown. He wasn't in a mood to tolerate bullshit.

"Pinche bulliciosa." (So fucking noisy)

People in the building looked at you, mostly minded their business, others threw a chuckle or a low whistle your way. Upon entering the elevator, he put you down gently, just to feel the soft skin underneath his shirt. You twitched and he pressed the penthouse button.

Jessica and Ben joined in, each way too focused in their own world to actually pay mind to you. Jessica got off in the fifth floor, and Ben on the seventh. All of them full of agents, that undoubtedly obeyed him to the very last word.

As soon as the elevator's door closed, you wiped your eyes while rubbing the back of your head. He had yanked a bit too hard when trying to stop you, a headache simmered under your skull.

He just watched you, not saying a word. Not that he wanted to. What would he talk to you about?

Miguel was sure that you weren't that innocent as you looked, but he was sure that Massimo's betrayal had hurt.

In fact, he knew that the corrupt lawyer had a wife, even imagined someone way much older and wrinkly. Not you. Too pretty for your own damn good to be with someone like that. It made him wonder what made a good girl such as yourself marry a rotten man like Max.

The man in question had been fooling around enough to hide all his wrongdoings to to the point of having a secret life, hiding everything from you. Paying up shouldn't be an issue for Massimo, he was a top notch lawyer after all. Was that what drew you to him? Money? Success?

What did you work as? Who were your parents and why he still hadn't heard a thing on the news about the attack or you missing?

The elevator's door swung open, he pulled you out, but you remained glued to the floor, not daring to foray deeper in his place.

His den, where he could rest from playing the wolf and the rest of the world his cattle. Where he could be a normal man instead of being El Diablo.

Minimalistic, yet luxurious. The smell of his cologne and tobacco filled in the air, ever rich and manly. Like him and the shirt you wore.

"Take it off."

But you seemed set into pushing buttons not even his most trusted allies dared to press. Patience towards tantrums wasn't a virtue he possessed.

You blinked a couple of times before frowning at him.

"What?"

"I said, take it off."

"I'm naked."

He shrugged while prowling his way to you.

"You're not leaving this place anyways. Why would you need clothes?"

"If you wanna see me naked again, just say it. You probably have a shit ton of these in your stupid closet!"

His plump lips twitched into an amused smirk before cornering you against a pillar nearby.

"Ah, mira. La ratoncita tiene agallas." (Oh, look at that, the little mouse has guts)

He toyed with the upper button to loosen it.

"Take it off. I need my shirt."

Nervous breaths made you recoil as he fumbled with the second button, "I've got nothing to wear!"

You shrieked when he pulled the hems up, slapping his hand away, too focused in covering your bits rather than pushing him away. Brain reacting a bit too late when it registered his hand cupping your pussy.

"W-What are you-"

He crashed his lips on yours, angry and borderline famished from the lack of contact. You pulled him away, but his fingers turned bolder and it made your knees tremble. It was enough for him to grab the shirt to hang it loosely on his shoulder and leave you naked once more.

Palms immediately covering yourself, he rolled his eyes. Cold air hit you.

"This is your new home, until your dear husband decides to pay me, so better get used to it-

"How much is it?"

Miguel's bushy brows shot up in a 'Seriously?' look, to then frown at your interruption.

"Unless you have four million dollars to pay back, I'd suggest for you to trust your husband."

"Why don't you spare me the theatrics and kill me, then? I'm dead anyways."

"Killing you won't teach your husband a lesson. I'd be making him a favor if I get rid of you, if anything." He poured a glass of whiskey and downed it in a go, "Besides, did you just admit that asshole won't pay me back?

You gulped.

"N-No. He will, he has to."

The last bit sounded more of hou convincing yourself than the mob lord before you.

"Damn right, he has to. But wouldn't be surprised if he didn't make an effort. As I see it, you were useful for him, until you turned into an issue."

Your eyes widened in surprise and anger. How could he say such things to you? How dared he assuming that he knew Massimo?

"You don't know anything about him!"

"Oh? And you do?" Miguel taunted "You didn't even know who I was until I showed up in your doorstep, ratoncita."

He put the bottle away as he explained, "He got nervous not because of you finding out. But because of those files he tried to protect so badly to the point of endangering you. Call me whatever you want but even I know that's a low thing to do."

Your head shook, denying each and every word.

"I know he is a dick, but he wouldn't leave me sold out."

Miguel chuckled, almost sympathetic at the foolish hope. You still believed in the man, despite him cheating, lying and other horrors. You were either too inlove, or too blind to see.

Miguel leaned towards you, cold eyes boring into yours "Wanna find out?"

"He will pay up. I know so!" You didn't hesitate, almost convincing yourself that one day things would be nothing but bad memories.

"That would be a shame, really. Cause even for us, those lowlifes your perfect man tries to put behind bars, have standards when it comes to our close ones."

Another difficult gulp rolled down your throat. A sudden question popping in your mind.

"W-What if he doesn't pay?" His eyes softened at the underlying fear behind the question. His knuckle grazing your chin, smoothly.

"Then, you're mine."

-----

My property to do as I please.

What he really meant. You rolled on his bed. By the overall state of the place, you wouldn't have to worry for him coming at random hours to try something. In fact, he hadn't been around for days, but was a gentleman enough to provide some clothes for you to remain inside. His shirts and sweaters really.

But it was definitely better than being naked.

The place was a bit too big for your own tastes, yet oddly, it felt familiar. It reminded you of the several days you'd spend up waiting on your own, in your old home's grandeur, for Massimo.

He often left for weeks, due business trips. Or so you thought. Sometimes you'd have friends over, meaning, acquaintances that you made along the way when getting involved with Bianchi.

Miguel's words visited over and over your mind. Had you been beyond stupid?

Your mind replayed the last conversation you had with him over and over. Nothing regarding your safety, or wellbeing but rather a couple of papers.

That last kiss meant something, right? He still worried about you. Or else he wouldn't be furious while Miguel touched you. He wouldn't scream whatever he meant in Italian.

You held onto that. You wanted to believe that he was doing his best in getting his money or at least get Miguel behind bars.

You missed your old life. Although dull, you weren't under the cat's merciless paws, worrying about the police raiding the place or a wacko shooting a gun inside.

But you'd be a liar to say any of that happened, but loneliness was taking a toll on your mind. What was the use of having a large dream-like place when there was none around to even talk? Massimo had trained you well in the arts of seclusion, but being on edge hindered all that progress.

Not even the person that got you food remained too long in the same space as you. Hunger left you ever since yesterday, there was no news of you, of Massimo or anything related on the tv.

He was right

No. You refused to believe your husband had forsaken you, or your parents. One way or another you'd be in their emergency radar and hopefully you'd be able to be free. Where would you get four million? What did Massimo did with all that money?

There was so many questions that left your head pounding. Not that you needed light anyways. The elevator's door opened swiftly, yet you didn't bother to look at whoever had arrived. Too focused on a spot in the wall and lost in your thoughts to care.

"Why aren't you eating?"

The voice made you snap your head towards its owner. Jessica, that stared with a vexed deadpan upon finding the cold foods piled up on the dinner island.

"I'm not hungry."

Jessica huffed and put the food in the table while walking over your slouched form on the couch.

"He'll get pissed if he finds out you're letting food to waste. So stop acting like a-"

A hiccup.

Jessica rolled his eyes and grunted, annoyed at your crying but in truth, she couldn't really blame you for it.

This wasn't your world, your way of living, she still wondered what made Miguel to take you, other than his own amusement. You wiped the tears away.

"Look, as shitty as you feel right now, you need to eat. Won't solve all your problems but will do your body good. You'll need it."

"Why am I here?"

Jessica shrugged while bringing the plate back to you.

"Go figure."

"Where is Miguel?"

A tiny smirk crept up Jessica's face.

"Why? Miss him already?"

"Far from that. I just need to get some things back from home. Can't keep using his things."

Jessica just stared at you, lips about to speak but they remained shut. She looked solemn, like if bad news were about to spill from her glossy mouth.

"I'll see what I can do, got it? Now eat. You're insulting my chef"

Jessica pushed the tray to you, food looking Michelin star quality.

"Don't make me come back and force you to eat it, alright?"

The little smile in your face offered little reassurance, but it wasn't her duty to deliver the bad news.

----

Miguel barely slept, the constant stress of his empire prevented him from getting some full sleep. And the woman straddling his hips while rutting herself into oblivion only made him even more exhausted. Her clumsy kisses stained his neck with the lipstick, music booming around him.

He had to give the femme some credit, if it wasn't for her loud and borderline fake wailing, he'd consider to indulge her again, cause her hips moved rhythmically and nonstop, edging him to the brink of a much needed release. But even so, his body remained tense after spilling into the condom.

He quickly removed the woman off him, annoyed while he cleaned after himself, the week's burden have been greater than he could handle. Peter offered to distract him while visiting one of his clubs. And the distraction had proven to be more a nuisance than anything.

At least she understood the message and left after catching her breath.

Peter entered the vip room, hand full of a whiskey glass, he pushed it back to him as he returned from the bathroom and then sunk into the single couch, quanked. The smell of sweat and perfume lingered in the air.

"Feeling better?"

"No."

Miguel threw his head back, Peter chuckled at his unkempt look. Shirt wide open, mouth flushed and smeared with creamy rouge, a soft hint of pink in his ears and cheeks and hair disheveled as the woman had held onto him.

It took him a moment to fix himself after downing the whiskey.

"I needed sleep. Not another woman with a cheap perfume."

"But she got you tired enough to sleep, didn't she?"

Miguel rolled his eyes and buckled his belt.

"Did Gabriel arrived already?"

"An hour ago actually, he was waiting for you to be done."

El Diablo stretched his long legs over the coffee table, knuckles holding onto his head.

Peter called Gabriel through one of the employees.

"What are you gonna do with that woman?" Peter gestured with his hands, trying to resemble your physical attributes.

"Who? The little mouse?" He chuckled before sighing, a hand rubbed his face, exhausted, "Who knows."

"Have you told her about her home yet?"

"And make her clam up even more? No. Jessica has been taking care of her. She's refusing food, all cause she's really missing that bastard."

"That's all she's known so far. Can't really blame her for it" Peter shrugged while looking through the window. The club thrived as usual.

The couch Miguel laid on was too comfortable to be standing up.

"Why don't you just... let her go?"

"No me digas." Red eyes stared at his left hand, unamused. (Oh really?)

"She's a witness. Plus I'm sure she knows more than she lets on about that pendejo."

"Massimo?"

"He disappeared. She must know where he is. A famous lawyer suddenly going missing? Not good. No news yet about it or his house burned to the ground? Even worst. That son of a bitch is up to something."

"What if she doesn't wants to cooperate?"

"I'll make her."

Gabriel entered the room, hands extended ready to hug his brother but upon looking at his current state, he stopped and chuckled.

"You done or... should I return later?"

"Gabri."

Miguel acknowledged him sleepily.

"Nor a fan of seeing you freshly milked. But I need your help."

Miguel's bored gaze fell on him while straightening his posture on the couch.

Gabriel, also known as Green Goblin, a name that still he was trying to not laugh at, the youngest of the O'Haras. Miguel's gun supplier and most trusted contact inside the bigger companies.

His little brother had followed his steps and now he was making his own name out there. And so far things seemed promising for him.

"¿Qué ocupas?" (What do you need?)

"To find a guy or his wife."

Miguel quirked an eyebrow, and Gabriel continued.

"You see, there is this... son of a bitch that works in a fancy firm, right? A month ago, one of my friends, my best friend, was raided in his home and arrested for drug trafficking."

"You're getting with junkies again?"

"Judge my friendship choices later, ok? As far as I know the guy had been in rehab and was celebrating five years sober. But that was just the tip of the iceberg".

Gabriel poured himself his own glass of whiskey and sat in front of his brother, a staid expression on his usual perky countenance. Miguel's discomfit grew bigger.

"It was him first. Then everyone I was collaborating at the moment suddenly get arrested and sentenced to a shit ton of years in jail." Gabriel crossed his legs before him.

Miguel's mouth soured. Not really liking the route the conversation was taking, the idea of who his younger brother was talking about turned less and less blurred until a clear image came in his mind.

"When I bribed an FBI agent-"

"You what?! Tas pendejo o qué?! Ya te dije que no te andes codeando con la policia-" (Are you stupid or what? I've told you to not hang around with the police!) Miguel’s voice was stern and Gabriel just dismissed him.

"Ay ya, calla. I know what I'm doing, so turns out that this... guy has been cooperating with them in exchange of not going to prison." (Oh shut up)

"A snitch." El Diablo scowled. If there was something he hated the most was snitches. Everyone knew what happened to the rats and snitches.

"He's the responsible of our agents getting shot or thrown in jail. Some say Kingpin is also after him and his family."

Fuck...

"What's his name?" He knew it, but even so needed to confirm the magnitude of the chaos the man had left and dragged you in with his lies.

"Massimo Bianchi."

-----

Miguel's door swung open, Jessica and Peter after him.

"Wait, Miguel!"

Jessica tried to stop him, but Miguel's rage was stronger than her and Peter.

Red eyes searching everywhere, until he spotted you on the couch. The atmosphere felt heavy, just like his breaths and thoughts.

Massimo was the culprit of all the issues he was trying to fix. Some of his most proficient agents in jail, because your dutiful husband was allegedly making things right and Miguel was sure Bianchi was screwing with him just cause. He had underestimated him and now it was giving him a headache.

The cherry ontop of his messy cake was Gabriel telling him that Kingpin was looking for you. And when the big man looked for someone, it meant nothing but trouble.

And still, he was angry cause you had been so damn stupid to sign things on Massimo's behalf and your name was in some documents that undoubtedly had served the police and FBI as evidence to get his agents in jail. Making you a target to many enemies Massi had made along his way to the top.

As lovely as you looked asleep, he yanked you by the ankle and dragged you all over the couch, your startled yelps echoed in the room. His shirt railed up, exposing thw only piece of underwear Jessica was able to get you.

"Stop!" Legs kicked and thrashed, railing the hem of his shirts up even more, upon seeing your panties he stopped.

"Get out"

"No, no, Jessica!" You pleaded but his hand darted over trembling skin to take a hold of your nape. A gasp escaped you as your face was buried on the cushions of the couch. Ass up high, clothed holes with a filmy red panties.

"Que te calles, pendeja!" He pushed the face deeper in the cushion while seething, "Why are you still here?" His question dripped with venom as his hand tangled in a fistful of your hair. (Shut up, dumbass)

Both of them left, Jessica threw you a subtle look of concern before going away.

A stinging spank echoed in your flesh, it had tears welling up your eyes while wincing painfully.

"God... I swear... I've known dumb ass people, and then there's you."

He pulled his trusted pocket knife out, flickering the blade alive in a swift swoosh. He was pissed. Now you were a real problem, not a mere plaything or guarantee he'd keep around for shits and giggles as he had originally planned.

"Do you know how many of my agents are in jail because of your stupid signature? Where is your husband?"

Another spank and your tears rolled

"You fucking crying? No, no, no." Miguel hovered over you while dragging the tip of his knife over the curvature of your rear, a pink welt trailing in it's wake. The blade slid horizontally on the panties, cutting the feeble fabric in half.

To then sit yourself properly to kiss you with all his anger. Assailant mouth devouring yours with such expertise you barely had time to breath properly, his tongue mercilessly curled and tasted around yours. Strong arms caged you as he ate your lips with hunger, leaving no room for gentleness.

Hands tore the remaining bits of fabric you had around your hips, as you gasped for a much needed gulp of air.

"I won't ask you again. Where is Max?"

"M-Massimo" you mumbled, trying to recover from the dizzying effect lingering in your senses.

"Me importa un carajo como vergas se llame, Where the fuck is he?" (I give two flying fucks on what his fucking name is)

"I don't know!"

His eye twitched but seeing your own spark shining through, amused and irked him equally. He pulled his shirt off you with a few tugs, since you refused to cooperate

Long and big hands squeezed your neck as he pushed you against the couch's back support, his other hand immediately cupped your pussy, fingers deftly exploring between them leisurely.

"Lemme refresh your memory then." He purred and your pelt crawled on its own. It wasn't full of that rich entice he first gave you, tempting you to drown in that corrupting well you ended up falling as he fucked you before your husband, but a much more dern and dangerous thing. Equally alluring.

Your legs trapped his hand in between, twitching at the contact. Your own hands grope at his wrist in a rickety attempt to release yourself.

His fingertips prodded viciously at the hardened nub between your puffed folds.

"You have no idea what you've done." He seethed in your ear. His touch was as delicious as painful.

"F-Fucking explain then" You moaned in between clenched teeth and breaths. And oh, you now were scared. The glint in his darkening eyes only matched the creeping darkness in his smirk

With a renovated vigor he took your ankles and folded them over you exposing your snug cunt, breath blown as your spine curved inwards, just like your legs, pushing them against your trembling hands.

A simple a quiet order. To hold them. He shook off his suit and unbuckled his belt, fumbling with his pants and underwear to finally release his hefty and hardening cock that landed on your shivering slit with a quiet slap. Feet kicking off his clothes.

He slicked his tip with his spit and rubbed between your awaiting folds.

"You" He sunk in, inch by inch, letting his girth to stretch open your slurping hole. Your lids drooped as a languid moan escaped your heaving lips. His hands trapped yours while holding your ankles, securing your and his grip on them. Making sure you wouldn't falter, "You're a target now"

He gritted his words as he pushed balls in deep. Earning a sweet shuddering squeak off you.

Eyes trailed down in the junction of your legs, mesmerized and marveled at how his thickness delved in with such ease in between your gummy and snug walls, with such slug speed it had your toes curled in. He made sure you felt everything.

When he pulled out, you could see your walls etching to him, begging to get back as your own creamy slick soaked him. Your fingertips curled underneath his larger palm, and he frowned.

"No, no, you'll fucking take it. You wanted me to explain, you'll take it."

There was a thrust. A wet one that had your jaw slacking open.

"That fucker is messing with me" Another thrust and it made you sputter a garbled moan, "And you know where he is"

"I-I don't knng-"

Your teeth clenched upon his tip rubbing your cervix. Cunt so full of him, twitching at the minimal movement.

"Where" A thrust, "Is" A deeper one, "He?" His hips slapped yours with all his might, dropping all his weight on your tightness, your eyes almost rolled back with a trembling sob.

Pants turned erratic, your head shook as he caged your folded frame in between his muscular thighs, accommodating deeper. There was no room for you to move, sweat begun forming on your forehead and neck. So far he had given you a few ruts and you were already hazy.

The couch creaked under your weight. His hands grope your ankles tighter, spreading them as further as they could go. Your hands were numbing. His weight crushed you so deliciously it had you watching, enthralled as he disappeared inside you.

"I don't know" words came in a shaky and husky breath, "I swear he-"

He released one of your ankles to squeeze your cheeks together, smirking darkly as he pulled out again.

"We'll do it my way then."

Before you could even reply, he held on once more on your ankles, a loud sob came out while he plowed relentlessly, unable to keep your squeaking and hiccuping away. His little mouse, ever compliant.

Loud and pleasurable wails filled in the room. Your jaw tightened and grunted, body bounced underneath his frame, taking each and every plow like a champ.

Feet swayed violently, like your breast. The heels of your soles dug in every side of his shoulders. Air lacked in your burning lungs. His muscles rippled and contracted with every remorseless plunge.

Wet and scummy slaps of flesh echoed unceasingly. Eyes bounced at the beat his creamed cock rutted into you. Fast enough to have your brain rewired, deep enough for your walls to feel each and every inch, taking the delicious beating of his cock in your already bullied cervix, and hard enough to mess with your thoughts in such way you were forgetting your own name.

Maddening, aggressive, dangerous yet addictive, like his thrust. Like him.

Oh God

He cupped your cheeks as your dazed eyes tried their best to remain awake.

"Fucking look at me" he growled

You were really really trying to. His forehead rested inches away from yours, letting your moanings turn into acute and desperate wheezes when he picked up the pace. You were sure your ankles would end up bruised and scratched, but in truth, right now it was the least of your concerns.

You were sure your brain shut off for a second or two. Panting and gasping for air like a fish out of water. Throat dry and hoarse.

Too much

Your legs shook and your mind snapped. You came, and came hard, squeezing his cock so tightly it made him whimper at the overestimulation. Juices coating him and rolled down your belly in a wet and explosive climax.

Walls spasmed so deliciously around him in a pompoir-like hug, that ignited his own peak.

Miguel had to support on the couch's frame to catch his breath as his hot spurts of cum painted your walls white. Forehead finally collided against yours.

Gaze locking on your dazed eyes as he left your insides with an approving hum.

One of your legs fell on the couch, a little whine accompanied the limb's fall. Miguel bend to pick up something from his pants. A little clink and a beep made your attention to snap at him.

El Diablo gave a brief kiss on your ankle to then wrap the tracking device on it. To then let your leg fall next to you.

"Beg for me to find him first instead of Kingpin."

You curled on the couch, catching up your breath.

His eyes lingered on your body. Gorgeously tussled and flushed, marked by his own hands. A proud smirk crept up his face, but it quickly faded when staring at the golden band in your finger.

You were now his, but a problem. His problem. He believed you when saying you had no idea where Massimo was. But eventually you'd have to cooperate. If he was to keep you alive, the least he needed was honesty.

But how to get it when you were kept in the shadows for so long? An idea popped in his mind. Sex wasn't a good incentive, he noted. Not that it wasn't great, all the opposite really as he was ready to sleep, finally able to relax. Maybe he'd try a different and less physical approach.

He picked up his clothes and spoke over his naked shoulder.

"We'll leave tomorrow." He popped his joints back.

"Better sleep well."

You heard him disappear into his room. Your body protested when trying to sit up right. You reached for the forgotten shirt, and with difficulty wore it again.

His perfume tingled your senses, but you were too tired and sore to walk over the bed. Besides, he was there and as much as his bed was great for your back, you curled on the bigger couch. The way his eyes looked your way when he was done, made your heart leap.

No.

He was dangerous and in truth you were sure he had many other women scattered around. And you were married.

With a man that has gotten me in so much trouble...

For once, it wasn't Massimo that you thought when going to sleep.

----

Taglist:

@bunnibitez @gabrielarose29 @night-spectrum @katitakenway @reverieblondie @choppednerdtriumph @amelialysm @tatatida @daddysfavoritesexkitten @huniedeux @blissdoubtyattuma @rositabluemoon @freehentai @solesurvivorjen @ewan-tef @miranexx @madastrid @sukioyakio @whos-writting-stuff @spiderbunny00 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @ginger23 @bammzyboomy @mmyyhhhh @escape-your-nightmare @m4dyy @mxtokko @lauritajn @pearlescenthearts @bookshied @stevespixie @crimin4llyins4ne @6thhokageswife @arrozyfrijoles23 @mangoslushcrush

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #mafia miguel #miguel ohara #miguel x y/n #miguel x you

1K notes · View notes

undreaming-fanfiction · 3 months

Text

In honor of Easter...

Eddie Munson can't sleep. Maybe it was the almost expired can of spaghetti that he had for dinner, maybe it's the new campaign he's itching to plan, maybe it's being back in the Hawkins High with yet another fight for graduation he's bound to lose because his literature teacher was yet another victim of Danny Munson's petty crimes, and what better revenge than to repeatedly fail his son that Danny lost to social services ten years ago?

Or maybe it's the weird rustling under his window.

Now Eddie, he's a survivor. He runs, yes, but that's because there's nothing to protect. His honor? Oh please.

But if there's someone trying to break into the only real home he's ever known? That's different.

He grabs an empty beer bottle that he's been intending to throw out for a week or so and heroically - and stupidly - jumps out of his window. He expects to maybe land into a bush. Do a superhero landing or something.

What he doesn't expect is a pained wheeze and "what the fuck?!" yelled by his landing zone.

Eddie scrambles back to his feet and raises the bottle. Perhaps he should have broken it first to make it more threatening? He swings it against the trailer wall and it shatters almost completely, leaving with a small ring of glass in hand.

The figure he landed on curses again and tries to scramble back on their feet.

Eddie raises the pitiful remains of the bottle. "Uh. Stop you...you scoundrel!" he threatens, except it doesn't sound like a threat, more like a plea. "Or I'll stab you with this..." he looks at the glass ring again, "...with this."

He hopes the intruder will flee. More likely, he's going to be jumped, punched and killed. But what Eddie absolutely does not expect is the town's pretty boy, Steve Harrington, dusting his knees and glaring at Eddie with hands on hips like a pissed off soccer mom. "Jesus Christ, Munson, are you trying to wake up the whole park?" he hisses.

Eddie suddenly feels very stupid. He lets go of the broken bottle and it lands in the dirt with a quiet clink. "Harrington? Uh...dude, I mean no disrespect and all, but why are you under my window?"

Steve's look could kill. "It's Easter tomorrow, what do you think I'm doing? Hiding eggs." He points to the basket full of eggs nearby.

It makes sense. Except it doesn't. Eddie pokes the eggs and they don't explode, so at least that's good. "Why on earth would you, Steve "the Hair" Harrington, be hiding eggs in a trailer park? Don't you have like, a fancy neighborhood to do this in? With Belgian chocolate eggs and champaigne for the bored moms and stuff like that?"

Steve sighs and runs fingers through his hair. Eddie notices with a pang of guilt that it's flattened where his foot landed. That's also a good moment to realize that he's only in his boxers and a t-shirt and barefoot.

But Steve doesn't seem to notice. He just vaguely gestures around. "Those neighborhoods have committees and stuff like that. And it's normal there. Look, I don't think local kids have a lot of good stuff going on. I know one of them, and she deserves to have one day like a normal kid, no worries, no thinking if her mom can afford it. So I'm preparing an egg hunt here. Or I was, before someone half-naked dropped on top of me and shattered a bottle over a pretty good hiding spot I found."

"Shit! Sorry!" Eddie immediately starts picking up the shards, or at least tries to in the dark. At least until a large hand grabs his own.

"Christ, Munson! Stop!" Steve hisses. "Do you want to cut yourself? I will just move the egg somewhere else and pick up the glass before it starts in the morning. And for fuck's sake, stop moving! Do you want to step on a shard?"

That finally calms Eddie down. He sighs and hangs his head down. "You know, Harrington, one might think you're a good dude. If one wasn't careful."

Steve nudges his side. "One should be careful. Now come on, I will give you a boost." When Eddie stares at him, he adds: "to your window. You want to go back to sleep, no?"

Eddie clears his throat. "Actually, I was thinking I'd love to grab my sneakers and help you, I know a lot of good hiding spots. Is that cool?"

Harrington thinks for a moment, then he nods. "Yep, cool. Now, do you need a lift?"

Back in the familiar clutter of his bedroom, Eddie thinks it was a fever dream, a hallucination from a food poisoning, the final revenge of the spaghetti can.

But then he hears Harrington whisper after him: "Don't you dare come out without those sneakers, Munson! No bare feet are getting near shattered glass on my watch!"

And Eddie just snickers, leans out of the window and whispers back: "For you, big boy? I'll even wear pants!"

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie au #steddie easter #steve x eddie

659 notes · View notes

small-quiet-room · 2 years

Text

I really hope as I age I can hold onto the rage I feel about the complaints @ young people that boil down to "you adapted to modern stimuli and outsource certain knowledge or skills from your brain to technology in exactly the way humans have always done and which is key to our evolutionary success"

#like okay 40+ people the younguns have never had to remember phone numbers or whatever #but you can't comfortably walk around in the woods barefoot and you dont have all the legends of your people memorized word for word #so maybe let the children use the tools you gave them jesus christ

1 note · View note

bubblergoespop · 5 months

Text

My Top Milo Quotes

i wanna devour this man so bad. the original version of this is at least triple the length omfg. @mrsmiagreer it’s finally here <3

“From one pretty face to another.”

“Bedroom? Oh. Ohhh. [gremlin giggling]”

“Cute?! You’re gonna come here, into my home, uninvited, and tell me I look cute when I’m mad? First of all sweetheart, you’re damn right I’m cute—“

“Jesus Christ who taught you how to do healing magic, a construction worker with a jackhammer?!”

“Me and Ash give each other shit all the time. He calls me a runt, I call him a bitch bottom, we laugh, we move on.”

“Cuddled up with you, in front of a fire? That’s a one-way ticket to sleepytown, USA, population: this guy.”

“I do not spoil him! Well whaddya want me to do? He’s my lil guy.”

“I swear to god, if I’m lyin I’m dyin, he looks him dead in the eye and says “if concerns about the future of your relationship with Amanda are weighing on you too heavily, I’m sure I can get by with just Milo and Asher here.”

“Are you Lasky?”

“Touch me and your life will be measured in milliseconds. I can see myself out.”

“It’s back. I’m back.”

“And next thing you know, boom, you’re sitting here, a broken man, barefoot with no fucking dress socks.”

“‘So Mr. Greer, what was it that ultimately pushed you over the edge?’ Oh, I don’t know officer, might have something to do with the walking terror I call a mate.”

“So what if I am sappy? I’m running on sleepy middle of the night brain, you get what you get. Shhh. Hush. Don’t you be mean to me. I’m trying to help.”

“He’s a good little dude. Isn’t that right, bub?

“I got to hold my favorite person in the whole world. And only occasionally had to threaten to choke them out.”

“Mmm. You’re cute. Yeah, I called you cute. What are you gonna do about it? Get grumpy? Just makes you look cuter.”

“Do not call them my ‘titties’ you asshole!”

“Personally, I think I’m better at getting clothes off a ya than putting em on, but I’m ever at your service, baby.”

“No no no, don’t do that button. Yeah. Yeah, leave that one undone.”

“There’s my sweetheart.”

“Yeah. Well, it beats for you, sweetheart. A little more sappy shit for the road.”

“There ya go, that looks perfect! Yeah, what you’re wearing right now! You look fucking incredible in it. Yeah, I know you haven’t even started changing into the next look, what’s your point?”

“When I say you’re my mate, I mean it with every inch of me. When I say it, my core lights up like a firework. And when I feel your core answer it, and mirror it back, it feels like the fourth of fucking July in my chest.”

“I mean, obviously we’re gonna look fucking great no matter what, it is us after all”

“Hey, I know Ash is your mate, but would you mind if I use that choke collar you have for him real quick?”

“The power couple”

“And the energizer bunny takes a tumble.”

“And you won’t believe this next part but, uh, as a wolf, I don’t have hands.”

“You don’t have to ask, baby, I trust you. I know you’ll be gentle.”

“You feel like forever in my arms.”

“Oh my god, do they think my house smells weird?”

“I don’t want this for you, baby.”

“These muscles got more knots in em than you had wrapped around you the other night. And that’s saying something.”

“You run through my blood like oxygen, sweetheart.”

“Whose mouth is this?”

“And do not wear that belt, how old is that thing? It looks awful!”

“You’re not alone. I’m here. The pack’s here.”

“You want to see a hissy fit, bootlicker?”

“Cmon, head up. Up for me. There you go. I wanna see this pretty face.”

“Kissing my palm like that… you’re too fucking cute.”

“I just wanna feel you.”

#sorry this took so long #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted milo #redacted sweetheart #bubbler’s top quotes

717 notes · View notes

celtic-crossbow · 2 months

Text

For You, I'd Bleed Myself Dry

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Early-ish Alexandria

Warnings: Suggestive (extremely mild); hangover

Summary: You're hung over and don't really remember how you got to Rosita's house the night before. Or what you had said on the way there.

A/N: Just a fun little drabble born of this incorrect quote. Suggested by @marvelcasey05

You didn’t expect to find Daryl still home when you wandered in the next morning. He was always an early riser, and though everyone else still slept, he would usually be long gone and outside the gates. So, when you tip-toed through the door and into the kitchen, your heels in your hand, he nearly scared the life out of you. You flipped the lightswitch and:

“Mornin’.”

“Jesus Christ, Daryl!”

The archer chuckled behind his coffee mug before tilting it the least bit more to take a sip. “Rollin’ in awful late.”

You shrugged “Or early, depending on how you look at it. Any left?” You nodded toward the cup. He gave a quiet mhm and got up to make you a mug. Your head was throbbing. You knew your makeup was a mess and your hair a disaster. You had slept in your dress at Rosita’s, so it was wrinkled and you were almost certain that it was only partially zipped in the back.The party hadn’t been that fun but the liquor had been flowing. That was why you went. Things in Alexandria had been stressful. Your group had been there a while. Long enough for so many problems to come along and be handled. The past week had been particularly eventful. Still, it had been handled and there had been some time to cut loose.

So, you did.

You sat your heels on the counter and muttered a thank you when he slid the mug across the surface, narrowing your eyes across the rim as you readied for a drink. “Do you know how I take my coffee?”

“Guess you’ll need to take a drink an’ find out, won’tcha?” He was perching himself back on the island stool when you realized that Daryl Dixon was barefoot, wearing flannel pajama pants, and a faded Led Zepplin t-shirt.

“You’re wearing people clothes.” You blinked, still holding the mug close to your mouth.

Daryl smirked from behind his own cup. “M’a person, contrary to popular belief.” He took another sip, prompting you to take one of your own. He did know how you liked your coffee. Interesting.

An ache in your left foot reminded you that you wanted nothing more than to go to your room and fall into a coma for a few hours. “I should probably take some—”

“S’behind ya. Got ‘em out earlier. Water too.”

There were two tablets on the countertop by the fridge, along with a glass of water. You warily picked them up, almost as if they would come alive and bite you. “Thank you?”

“Mhm.”

Quickly swallowing them, you downed the water because coffee wasn’t the best tool for rehydrating, but you’d be damned if you’d give up that mug for anything. Collecting your heels and your coffee, you started walking backwards out of the kitchen. “Listen, I’m gonna head upstairs and get off my—”

“Perfectly good chair right here.”

“What?” Now you were looking at him as if he’d grown a second head. There were no other chairs in the kitchen. Carol had the only other stool piled full of kitchen junk she had yet to put away. “Are you sure you’re awake?”

“M’wide awake. How’d ya get to Rosita’s last night?”

Wait. Was Daryl blushing? “She helped—” No, that wasn’t right. Rosita and Tara came back long after you did. You distinctly remembered grumbling at them to turn off the lights. “How did I get there?” You said aloud, though softly.

“I took ya.”

Your shoes hitting the floor echoed through the quiet house, causing both you and Daryl to flinch. After a moment, no baby cried and no adults yelled. You walked forward and placed your mug back on the counter. “What do you mean you took me? You weren’t at the party.”

Cause Daryl’s home. He doesn’t like parties.

He shrugged but the pink tint to his cheeks was now traveling a route up to his ears. “Was workin’ on the bike. Saw ya stumblin’ ‘round in the dark. Didn’t wantcha to get hurt.”

“Did I—did I say anything stupid?”

And if I see him right now, I'm gonna ask to use his face as a chair.

“Nope.” The archer was staring at his coffee cup, rolling the smooth sides between his hands. He absolutely knew what you had said but he was giving you an out. Goddamn that man. He had to be beautiful, rough edged, and chivalrous at the same time?

“Good.” You nodded. “Good. Thanks for the coffee.” You turned to walk out, leaving the coffee mug behind. “And for—you know, getting me there safely last night.”

He nodded with a small, tight smile but didn’t say anything else. Maybe he was just teasing you. No, Daryl wasn’t the type. Well, he was but not with things that were at his expense. He was definitely going out of his comfort zone if the red tint on his face was any indication. Did he want to do that with you? You certainly wouldn’t mind. You’d wanted Daryl for as long as you could remember. Even before he started treating the group more like friends than survival buddies. There was always just something about him that called to you, pulled you in like a magnet, but there was this invisible line that didn’t feel safe to cross. Was he toeing that line with you now?

You might never get the chance again if you were to shut him down.

“Hey, Daryl.” You called from the stairs, barely looking over your shoulder. Your heart was racing.

“Yeah?”

“There’s—there’s no chair in my—what’re you—hey!” You were over his shoulder and being hauled down toward his room in the basement before you could do much more than laugh.

“Weren’t no way ya could make any line ‘bout a chair work.”

“Got a bed, right?”

“Got a mattress.”

“That’ll do, Dixon. That’ll do.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon twd #daryl #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #Spotify

344 notes · View notes

msgexymunson · 1 year

Note

walking around the house in nothing but one of eddie's old t-shirts... knowing that the second he sees you, you're getting bent over the nearest surface.

Well! How could I say no to this??

Warnings: p in v unprotected sex (wrap it folks) implied established relationship, dom Eddie x sub fem reader

A/N: this was a good ask, exactly what I like, short and dirty (just like me) Comments and reblogs are what keep the cogs and springs in my steampunk heart oiled ❤️

Masterlist

Humming along to the radio in the warm light of the trailer, you try to be helpful, mixing ingredients in a plastic bowl you'd found in a cupboard. Eddie had left to do a deal and his uncle was away all weekend, so you'd crawled out of bed and decided to whip up some pancakes. He'd mentioned them the night before and left you with a craving so you thought you'd surprise him.

You pad around the kitchen barefoot, only wearing one of Eddie's old Hellfire T shirts, the one he hated since it was too big. It was perfect for you as a makeshift dress, just covering the curve of your butt.

Reaching on tippy toes you examine the top cupboard trying to excavate a frying pan from its depths. Over the sound of the tinny radio and your own clattering you don't notice the opening of the trailer door, or the metallic sound of Eddie's keys falling to the ground in shock.

You cannot help but notice a warm torso against your back and an unmistakable bulge pressing directly against your ass. Jumping with shock, a squeal escapes your lips.

"Jesus Eddie you scared me!"

No words. Just a firm hand gripping you by the hip, the other snaking fingers across your jaw, and a strong body pushing you hard against the counter. Panic grips you for a moment. What if it isn't Eddie?

That is until hot breath winds its way into your ear.

"Baby, look at you. What are you doing?"

You attempt to answer, whilst he grinds his hardness against the fat of your ass cheeks.

"I-I was, I was making pancakes. I was gonna surprise you?" Your words are unsure; he almost sounds mad, belying the urgent gestures of his hips.

"I mean, what are you doing in my shirt? Jesus baby, you look smokin' hot."

You attempt to move but Eddie's holding you still, hand now gripping the nape of your neck whilst the other smooths across your curves and under the hem of his old shirt. As his fingertips ghost across your heat you can't help but back into his feathering touch.

"Fuck, you're not even wearing panties? Well, fuck."

His hand moves away, making you frown, until you hear the unmissable clink of his handcuff belt. Eddie unzips his jeans and pushes them down just far enough to release his cock from its denim confines.

You feel the weeping tip rut against your slickened folds making you jolt.

"Eddie, please." It comes out needy, begging; exactly how he likes it.

"Yeah? You want it? Is that why you're wearing my shirt and nothing else?" You hear the grin in his voice and the wet noise of him spitting into his hand to wrap it around his dick.

When he starts pushing into you a gasp forces its way out of your lungs; air expelling in relief at him entering you.

Eddie gives you no time to adjust. He simply ruts into you animalistically, one hand gripping your hip leaving indents in your skin, the other leaning on the countertop as leverage, allowing him to drive into you as hard as possible.

"You drive me crazy, just walking around in my shirt, and, fuck, nothing else. You fuckin' menace."

"Eddie!" You try to retort but there's no air to breathe, unable to snap back when he's fucking you this brutally.

You feel a deep bubbling in your stomach, a powerful release clamping down on your insides, about to spill. Eddie's thrusts become sloppy and somehow even deeper as you scream your release out into the world, pussy gripping him as if it were afraid to let him go. Eddie cums inside you with a drawn out groan, body flopping over yours on the countertop.

Pressing soft kisses to your temple, he pulls from your heat and stands. You're not so lucky, legs wobbling, nearly giving out from under you like a new-born fowl.

"Woah there, sweetheart" Eddie says as he grasps you firmly by your waist. "You OK?"

Steadying yourself, you turn to face him.

"Hi."

"Hi." He chuckles, peeling a strand of hair out of your face. "You wanna go and clean up and I'll make the pancakes?"

"Sure" You grin, planting a kiss to his chapped lips.

"You wanna hand me that then sweetheart?"

Confusion floods your face, until your eyes follow his, and realise your gripping onto the spatula you had in your hands when he came in. You hand it over, fingers releasing from their death grip.

"That good eh?" Eddie smirks, full of himself.

"Shut up Munson" You hit his arm, but there's no force in it, as you make your way to the bathroom. It was, after all, a hell of a way to wake up.

I only had a tag list for Rumour, so if anyone wants to be on my general Eddie taglist please comment/reblog to say so!

@munson-blurbs @eddiesprincess86

3K notes · View notes

yeoja-dream · 5 months

Text

1+1=3

Pairing: Minsung x reader, jisung and leeknow x reader, leeknow x jisung Genre: Smut with light plot, AU, light fluff, comfort Characters: Han Jisung, LeeKnow/Lee Minho, Fem!Reader Content Warning: dom/sub dynamics, unprotected sex, dollification, praise, degradation, safe word use with after care Word Count: 6.5k

It had been a stressful week between work and school, and you drummed your fingers on your steering wheel in anticipation as you traveled to your boyfriend’s house for the weekend. Between your mutually busy schedules, you had to survive the week with random and scant flirty messages, cat pics, and 15-minute FaceTime calls, and it certainly was not enough.

The city traffic finally relented, and finally, you found yourself in front of the apartment of your boyfriend, Lee Minho. Punching in the door code, you let yourself in. The apartment was modest, a two-bedroom place Minho shared with 3 cats and Jisung, his roommate and partner. The main area was an open-concept kitchen and living area that was currently unoccupied, save for Soonie who had jumped up when you entered and had begun brushing against your legs.

“I’m home!” You called out, bending over to give the cat some attention. You walked further in, removing your shoes, dropping your overnight bag, and plopping on the couch. You had gotten up early to drive over and it was a relief to be here finally.

A few minutes later, Minho padded out barefoot, all messy air and bleary eyes, smiling from ear to ear.

“Y/N!” He said with as much enthusiasm as his sleepy voice could produce. He extended his arms making a grabbing motion at you to come and hug him. He always acted like a big baby when he first woke up.

“Hi baby,” You stood up, hugging him tightly, inhaling his comforting scent. “Do not tell me you are just waking up! It’s passed noon!”

He rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Late night,” He said, voice raspy.

“I can see that,” You said, looking him up and down. “You must be hungry, go sit and I’ll make something up. I bet Jisung is hungry too.”

“I can make my own food,” He began to protest.

“You hush,” You scold him, shooing him to the couch. “I know you can but let me take care of you.” He faux pouted, but he let you push him down as you walked into their shared kitchen.

For a pair of boys, their kitchen is always well stocked. You put on a playlist of your favorite tunes and get to work. Nothing special you decided, a hearty omelet with some bacon and toast should more than suffice for the two of them. As you began cooking, you found yourself taken by the beat of the music, dancing in place and singing loudly as you mixed and stirred, but still managing to keep one eye out to keep the eggs from burning.

You didn’t notice the way Minho looked at you, eyes full of amusement and adoration. You also didn’t notice when Jisung woke from his mid-day slumber. You noticed him very quickly, however, when you turned around and suddenly he was standing over your shoulder, scaring the crap out of you.

“Jesus christ, Jisung!” You smacked his arm. “You scared the crap out of me!” Somewhere on the couch, you heard Minho’s unmistakable laugh.

“I was just curious what you were cooking! You didn’t answer me when I asked!” He said, holding his hands up defensively.

“Bacon and eggs,” You said, turning him around and giving him a light push towards the couch. “Go sit with Minho you know I hate having people in the kitchen when I’m cooking.” Jisung shuffled in the direction you pointed him mumbling something in acceptance as you got back to work.

Han Jisung was the other partner of your boyfriend. The two had met and started dating long before you met Minho, since high school if Minho was to be believed. The pair lived together, worked together, and spent almost every waking moment together. When you had first visited the apartment, you laughed to yourself about the seemingly completely superfluous need for separate bedrooms for a couple that otherwise did everything together.

You had met Minho 2 years back when you were a freshman in college, he a junior. Initially, you had started off as classmates, and later, friends, bonding over your shared hatred for your dickhead organic chemistry professor and late-night study sessions. His long-term partner was no secret to you, which is what made his confession to you a year after you had met all the more unexpected. Of course, you had slowly found yourself falling for him. Outside of his sarcastic, cool, no-fun exterior was a man on the inside who was brilliantly witty, felt deeply, and had intense passion and empathy for the things and people he loved. You had also, however, resolved to keep your feelings to yourself and made peace with the fact that the two of you as a couple would never be.

It was in the music room late one night. Despite it not being related to your major, Minho had convinced you to take a music theory class so he could share the thing that he loved with you. You had asked him to meet you and help you prepare for a listening exam, but the two of you spent two hours talking and goofing off on the piano. As the night was winding down and you were getting ready to go back to your dorm, he stopped you and confessed to you. He told you about his feelings, how he found himself attracted to you, how he adored the way you snorted when you laughed really hard, how he loved your passion for your field, how caring and considerate you were, and how he had hoped you felt the same way.

To say it caught you off guard would be an understatement. Of course, the feelings were mutual, but his relationship with Jisung made things complicated. You had met Jisung, befriended him. You had been to their home, you saw how they interacted, how they seemed to be made for each other, and you wondered how you could possibly fit into that.

In the following days, you talked a lot with Minho about what being together would look like. About needs and boundaries, about communication and jealousy. You’d take it slow, you both agreed and from that day on, you had become a couple.

In the year or so that had passed since then, you had grown a lot as a couple. Of course, it helped that you had grown a close relationship with Jisung as well. He was cute, super silly but an insanely deep thinker and wise far beyond his years. On nights Minho was gone, the two of you would spend hours making silly songs and then singing them in ridiculous voices, playing board games, and talking about the bigger, scarier things in life. He had become your closest friend and confidant, and slowly, your worries about feeling like an outsider in your own relationship dissipated as you realized that love was not a finite commodity. Your worries about fracturing the close relationship between the pair relaxed too as it had become clear that being with you was not a sacrifice, and more often than not, involved doing whatever they were doing anyways but including you.

The rules your relationship had been built on in the last few months, however, had become steadily more and more shaky. Originally, you and Jisung agreed to be purely platonic friends. You were limited and respectful with each other about physical intimacy, even keeping acts like hugs quick and on rare occasions. It was then also agreed, naturally, that there would be no acts of intimacy as a group. Slowly, however, those strict boundaries seemed to loosen and a comfortable, non-sexual intimacy had blossomed between both you and Jisung, and the three of you as a group. Jisung gave amazing hugs, and cuddle piles on Minho’s bed while you all watched Netflix were simply heaven. It was from the dissolution of those boundaries that you found yourself torn. In the privacy of your own mind, you could admit that you had developed a crush on Jisung. Some nights when the three of you were cozy in bed, you found yourself needing to resist the urge to plant a kiss on Jisung’s cute, sleepy face as you would run your fingers through his hair absent-mindedly. On the other hand, your dynamic was good, great even. Minho spoiled you. He loved you in a quieter way, preferring to silently send you DoorDash from your favorite restaurant on really hard days or be an attentive ear when you needed to get something off your chest. He was the type to keep a list of things you love on his phone, places, things, experiences, anything you had exclaimed you loved he wrote down. When you first caught him doing so, you called him on it and he told you simply that he wanted you to have everything, the world if you so desired, and that he would give it to you. You loved him too, and you would love him for as long as he would let you. It felt wrong, selfish even, to ask for more. For you, Minho was more than enough.

You slid two identical plates piled high with omelet, bacon, toast, and some home fries you had found in the back of the freezer.

“Food’s done!” You said in a sing-songy voice before turning to head back to the kitchen to clean up. Before you could, however, Minho had gotten up and in a flash, positioned himself between you and the sink, his arms crossed.

“Every time you cook we do the same thing,” He scolded. “When have either of us let you clean after you cook for us?”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically. You filled a small bowl with the remaining home fries and plopped down to join the boys at the breakfast table.

Conversation was light over what was, at that time, ostensibly lunch, rather than breakfast. And, despite immense protest from you, the boys cleaned up after your cooking mess with relative efficiency.

It was a beautiful, tepid day outside, and the three of you agreed to head to the local park where you spent hours appreciating the weather, nature, and each other’s company. Before long, it was time for dinner. You all went back and forth, bickering about dinner options, and finally, just decided to order a pizza. You had a long-standing tradition, dating back to your first official date with Minho. The two of you couldn’t agree on what to have for dinner, finally settling on pizza and agreeing that no one could dislike pizza. From then on when you couldn’t agree on dinner, you’d order a pizza.

The pizza was enjoyed and eaten on the couch, yet another inane reality dating show with a bizarre twist on the TV to act as conversation fodder. After the episode's conclusion, ever the cat-fanatic, Minho turned on the Playstation and you and Jisung watched him play Stray, the two of you mostly pointing to things in the environment and commanding him to investigate, much to Minho’s playful dismay.

As the night wound down, the three of you decided to call it a night, Jisung heading to his room, you and Minho heading off to his. You had already changed into your sleepwear, an oversized t-shirt and panties, when you slipped into bed next to Minho, who was already in bed, passively scrolling on his phone. You slid your arm across his torso, pulling yourself towards him and resting your head on his shoulder. From this angle, you were able to see his phone clearly, growing bored immediately as you realize he was browsing the specifications of different audio controllers. Quickly, your mind filled with ulterior motives. After the stressful week you had, you wanted nothing more to be filled and pounded into a quivering, babbling mess by your boyfriend. The mental image alone had your stomach doing backflips.

Taking initiative, you tuned your head to the side and began kissing his neck. Minho continued his scrolling, not reacting, so you went further, licking and sucking the sensitive skin gently. That too, elicited no response. In return, you rolled over in a huff, turning your back to him, and pulling the covers up high. At your antics, Minho chuckled deep and low.

“Did you want something from me?” He asked nonchalantly.

You sighed deeply again. “Do I really need to spell it out?” You retorted.

“Ah, but what am I always telling you about using your words?” He asked. With your back still turned, you heard the singular knock of his phone as he placed it on the nightstand followed by the crinkling of the bed sheets as he rolled over towards you, spooning your body with his. Almost directly into your ear this time, he speaks again. “What is it exactly that you wanted, lovely?”

You weighed briefly weighed your feigned offense versus the growing ache in your core in your mind. You could continue to pout, but you knew damn well he wouldn’t lay a finger on you until you acquiesced to his demands.

“Your cock,” You mumbled.

“Mhm,” He said approvingly, running his hand up and down your arm. “And what is it you want me to do with my cock?”

“Fuck me,” You arched your back, hoping to grind your ass against his member. “Please,” You added.

He chucked again, placing a few light kisses on your shoulder blade. “Someone is needy,” He commented, his tone amused. Suddenly, however, he pulled away from you and you felt the bed shift as he stood. You sat up now, facing him directly as he stood now in the middle of the room.

“Truthfully,” He began, “I was going to get you warmed up before I went through with tonight’s plan but, I think it will be more fun this way.” He said, turning on a heel and walking out of the room before you could question or protest. Not but 60 seconds later he returned, a very confused Jisung in tow.

“Go sit,” The older boy said, gesturing towards the bed.

With an awkward and jerky gait, Jisung obeyed, sitting on the foot of the bed on the right side, the same side on which you were currently sat.

“I can see you both are confused, but first, Y/N, what are our safewords?” Minho asked, standing over the two of you.

“Red, yellow, green,” you reply quickly. “Red stop, yellow slow down and check-in, green good.”

“And Jisungie, what are our safewords?”

“Um, red yellow green. Same system.” He replied, looking off to the side, whether in embarrassment or discomfort, you couldn’t quite discern.

“Very good.” He purred. “I’m going to take care of you both, but to do that I need to know that you understand you can use those safe words at any time. Can you do that for me?”

Your instinct was to simply nod, but you quickly remember that Minho always asks for verbal confirmation. “Yes,” You said, your confusion continuing to grow.

“Of course,” Jisung confirmed.

“Excellent,” Minho said, wordlessly prowling around to the left side of the bed. He climbed in, sliding himself into a seated position with his back against the headboard. Remaining in your respective spots, you both orient your bodies to face him as he does so, expectantly waiting explanation of the sudden intrusion.

“I learned a secret about our Jisungie recently,” Minho cooed, looking first at the younger boy, and then at you.

“Jisung?” You asked, confused. You turned your head to look at him, and as you did so, you watched his eyes go wide with realization. He looked down, burning holes into the sheets with his eyes. Despite realizing whatever Minho was about to confess on his behalf, he didn’t stop him from continuing.

“Did you know that when I fuck you,” Minho continued, “and you make all of those lovely, desperate, needy sounds?”

“I, uh, yeah?” You replied, voice squeaky. It was your turn to go red with embarrassment as you pulled your legs in close to your chest, wrapping your arms around them comfortingly.

“Well, Jisungie has been listening to you beg and moan, stroking his cock and imaging it was his cock you were stretched out over,” Minho said, his expression wolfish.

The image comes to your mind crystal clear, Jisung splayed wide open, his hand on his cock, his head thrown back in ecstasy, the sounds of your pleasure throwing him over the edge. It sends your heart racing and your stomach somersaulting.

“The walls are thin and-” Jisung attempts to defend himself, looking at you desperately searching your face for signs of rejection. Only when he’s sure he finds none does he continue. “You’re so cute and pretty and nice, Y/N, and listening to how good Hyung was making you feel made me imagine the two of you and suddenly I uh,” He paused finding the word. “Needed to relieve myself. I’m sorry that’s probably really weird of me. I know I shouldn’t have been listening I’m sorry once I started it was hard to stop and I feel really strongly for you Y/N in maybe ways a friend shouldn’t feel and…” He rambled on.

Was he confessing to you? You asked yourself. “Jisung,” You addressed him directly, cutting off his apologetic word vomit. “Are you saying you like like me?”

“Yeah?” His voice was squeaky, unsure, not of his feelings, but of your reaction.

“I like like you, too,” You blurted, relieved. “I have for a little while,” you confessed.

“Me too!” Jisung said in complete shock.

“I do love it when my loves get along,” Minho spoke up. “But I know another secret about Jisung.”

Whatever it was it couldn’t have been as much as a bombshell as the first. Even Jisung looked at him with an eyebrow quirked.

“Jisung has never been with a woman,” He stated. “He sucks my cock beautifully and on occasion fucks me pretty thoroughly too, but I thought we could teach Jisung how to make you make all those lovely sounds you make for me, how does that sound, beautiful?”

“G-Good,” You said, your voice dry.

“Good,” Minho dawled. “Jisungie?”

“Please,” He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” He purred again. “Good boys and girls who listen well get to cum, but those who can’t listen get punished, understand?”

“Yes,” The two of you responded.

“You are both so good at using your words, let's keep that up.” He stated, looking at the two of you. “Y/N, why don’t you kiss Jisung?”

Wordlessly, you unwrapped yourself and crawled to the foot of the bed where Jisung was still seated. He turned his whole body to face you, and as you brought your face in close to his, you paused just millimeters away, teasing him for just a moment before closing the distance.

Your lips gently met his, soft, plump, and full of nervous energy. It’s cute, you decided, taking the lead and kissing him again but harder. Jisung matches your energy, and despite his nerves to be kissing you , you quickly realize he is not an inexperienced kisser. As the kiss heats up in passion and intensity, he follows. You both used your tongues sparingly but tactfully, excitedly exploring and experiencing one another. Through it all you both manage to keep your hands off one another, not having been given permission to touch.

“You may touch,” Minho finally allowed after what felt like an eternity.

Jisung was sat cross-legged on the bed, and you were still on your hands and knees facing him. With Minho’s verbal permission granted, you parted briefly only to climb into his lap facing him, legs fully straddling his waist. In this position, you could press your chest against his chest, and your dampening core against the tent in his pajama pants. The increased contact made you both more heated, feverish. At first, your hands were wild running over his arms, then his chest, then his back. His body was lithe, all corded in lean musculature, you marveled at how toned he felt under your fingertips despite his thin frame. At the same time, Jisung’s hands explored your bodily readily, starting in the safe places, rubbing first your arms, then your back and sides, before coming around to cup a breast. Using his thumb, he drew lazy circles around your nipple, the sensation causing you to sigh with satisfaction. You kissed again, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and crushing your chest against his. He wrapped his arms around low around your waist, using the leverage to rhythmically rock you against his core. The contact was relatively minimal considering the two layers of clothes in between, but the sensation was already causing him to blush and pant.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Minho approved from behind you. Before things could go too much further, however, he called your name, interrupting. “Y/N, Come sit, back to me,” He instructed, patting the space on the bed in between his parted legs.

You do as you are told, your back resting against his chest in a reclined seated position.

“Arms up,” Minho again commanded. As you comply, he lifts your oversized t-shirt up and over your head, leaving you completely exposed except for your panties. Jisung stared, his eyes transfixed and hungry. He didn’t dare move. The attention makes you shy, but you know better than to cover up.

“Give me a color, sweetness,” He asked you directly.

“Green,” You breathed.

“Jisung?”

“Huh? Oh, super green.” He said, blinking hard, clearing something from his mind.

“I am also green,” Minho confirmed. “Now for this part, my love, all I need you to do is be a perfect little doll for Jisungie, remember we are teaching him how to make you feel good. You can make all the noises you’d like but you may not move, guide him, or if he does a good enough job, cum until I allow you, do you understand?”

“Yes,” You breathed.

“Yes, what?” He asked you again.

“Yes, sir .” You added.

Seemingly satisfied, he turned his attention to Jisung.

“Jisung aren’t Y/N’s tits gorgeous?” Minho asked, reaching around and taking both breasts in his hands as if presenting them to him. You sighed at the warmth of his palms.

“Yeah-” Jisung agreed, his voice hoarse.

“The thing is, her nipples are pretty sensitive,” He began, shifting his hand placement slightly to trap your nipples between his thumb and forefingers, applying minimal pressure. “So the first way to make her make those noises you love is like this,” He punctuated his sentence by increasing the pressure of his fingers, rolling the sensitive skin in between. The sensation catches you off guard and you squeak in surprise, but ultimately relax and moan quietly at the feeling.

“Come play with her tits,” Minho invited, dropping both breasts. You watch Jisung almost fall over himself scrambling to make his way over to you. He kissed you first, briefly, however as he moved on to peppering shorter kisses down your jaw and neck, all the way down to your chest. He took one breast in his hand, repeating the light rolling motion the older man had shown him, but with the other breast, he enveloped the nipple with his mouth, licking and sucking with eagerness. After a few minutes, he switched, showing the opposite side the same attention. You groaned at the feeling, letting your head relax back against Minho’s chest.

“Good boy,” Minho praised. “But look,”

The command made Jisung drop his hands and pull away, waiting to hear what exactly he was meant to be looking at.

“Her panties are soaked, do you know what that means?”

“I’m doing a good job?” Jisung replied tentatively.

“Precisely,” Minho cooed. “Hips up,” He addressed you now. You do so without hesitation. “Take her panties off,” He spoke again to Jisung.

Jisung pulled back a bit, giving himself a bit more room to hook his thumbs around the fabric and pull it down and off, discarding it somewhere on the floor. Minho then grabbed both of your legs one by one, lifting them up and out, placing them on the outside of his legs. From this position, even if you wanted to close your legs, you would be entirely blocked from doing so by Minho’s legs. In this position, you were pinned wide open for Jisung to see and appreciate, and appreciate Jisung indeed did. He stared at your dripping core like a man starved, and it was making you dizzy with desire.

Minho reached down, using one hand to part your folds and the other to find the bundle of nerves. He does so quickly and easily, drawing painfully slow circles around the area. You want to protest, to beg for more, but you know better.

“Got you are fucking soaked,” Minho groaned into your ear before addressing Jisung again. “This is the clit, if you want to make Y/N cum, this spot is really important.” He withdrew his finger and moved it lower, dipping it into your core. “Down here is her pussy. When you finger her, curve your fingers like this,” He demonstrated, lazily pumping a single curved finger in and out of your entrance. Your nerves are on fire , and even with one, unenthusiastic finger, you find yourself clenching around his finger and groaning, mentally screaming for more. Minho laughs darkly at you, “Ah, you just wait you haven’t earned it yet.” He looked up at Jisung, “The G-spot is what you’re aiming for, it's the spot on top that feels a little different than the rest.” With that, he withdrew both of his hands. “Jisungie, you suck my cock so well, why don’t you try eating Y/N out? You’ll know you’re doing it right by her reaction. Once you find it though, don’t stop.”

A new wave of nerves clearly hits Jisung as he is now completely out of his element. Making out and sucking nipples was easy, everyone had them. Slowly he lowered himself, positioning himself comfortably between your legs. He parted your folds gingerly, and after taking a calming breath, stuck his tongue out exploratively. He took to your clit quickly, but his movements were decidedly slow. He took his time mapping and exploring, memorizing the points that made you gasp and jerk. Once he had found the best spot, he built up a shocking and punishing pace with his tongue, one that had your back arching against Minho’s chest.

“Ah, fuCK-” You gasped, your hands white-knuckled in the sheets.

“Give her two fingers,” Minho instructed. Without breaking tempo, Jisung slid two fingers in, rocking them into you at a slow, deliberate, tempo, dragging his fingertips against the nerves of your g-spot, making you clench tight around them. The juxtaposition between his fingers and his mouth was divine, putting your full focus on pushing down the growing tightness in your core. You make the mistake, however, of looking down, the sinful sight of Jisung’s pretty face buried between your thighs and the wet, squelching sounds of your pussy greedily milking his fingers combined suddenly bring you much closer to the edge than you expected, in serious danger of careening off the edge without permission.

“I- ah- cum! Please!” Was all you managed to get out.

“Ah but princess, I wanted you to cum all over Jisung’s pretty cock, don’t tell me you’re gonna cum now.”

“I can- fUCK, I can go twice,” You offer up, anything to negotiate your release.

“Hmm,” He paused, thinking to himself.

Think faster! You thought to yourself.

“It’s a special day and I’m feeling generous, you can go ahead and cum baby but you still have to show Jisungie how pretty you are when you’re making a mess all over his cock.” He drawled, brushing a stray hair from your face and planting a kiss on your temple.

With permission granted, and no more than 3 more pumps of Jisung’s fingers, you are coming, eyes closed head back, arched back, shaking and cussing through the shock waves. Jisung removes his fingers and backs off of you, and you allow yourself to fall back onto Minho, eyes closed, chest heaving as you recover. There are several seconds of silence followed by the sound of something wet, and when you open your eyes, you look up and instantly, you feel your core reignite at the sight.

They were kissing , sloppily and messily, the shine of your slick still wet on Jisung’s lips. Minho, with his only free hand, palmed the boy’s erection through his pants while he whimpered, his arms dangling at his sides. The sight was beautiful and dirty and made your toes curl with desire.

Minho gave Jisung a light push, pulling away from the younger boy. “I should punish you for moving without permission, but you still have another job to do, so I will let it slide. Clothes off,” He commanded.

Jisung wordlessly obeyed, and while doing so, Minho sat you forward slightly, giving him room to peel off his own shirt and adjust your positioning.

“He’s going fuck you really good baby, but this angle doesn’t quite work. Just lay here and enjoy I’m going to be right beside you appreciating the view.” He said, picking up your hand and placing a kiss on the knuckle. You do as he says, and after a minute, Jisung returns, giving you the chance to drink in his naked form.

He wasn’t the tallest man, but damn was he nice and proportional. His cock was thick and flushed a lovely shade of pink at the tip, which was already glistening with precum.

“Now Y/N does give fantastic head, however, today is about you learning so it’s time to fuck her. A gentleman always lets his lady cum first, so pace yourself. You may only cum after she does, understood?” Minho asked Jisung.

“Y-Yes,” Jisung said, climbing back on the bed, initially kneeling in front of your feet. He nudged your legs open tentatively, and you complied. He came in closer then, kissing you again. Instinctively, you wrapped both arms around him. This kiss lacked the heat it did before, but this time contained a new, distinct feeling of intense care and passion. It was gentle, loving, sweet, even, and it caused your chest to ache. He was losing his virginity all over again, you realized, and it made you hold him a little closer. He continued to kiss you as you felt his cock probe your folds before sliding it home at last. Instinctively, he threw his head back and groaned, inch by delicious inch, the stretch of your cunt around his cock tip to hilt had you both gasping.

You wondered for a moment what his plan was, it was obvious to anyone in the room that he was near the edge, and how he planned to make you cum before him and escape punishment piqued your curiosity. You didn’t have to wonder for long.

He pulled up and away from you a bit, cock still buried deep inside you. He pulled up one of your legs up high, resting it on one of his shoulders. His hands found purchase on the wall and bed frame. This new position was significantly less intimate than the one before but allowed for a much better range of motion. He withdrew from you almost entirely and then snapped forward, the force of which had both your head hitting the headboard and an audible slapping sound as your pelvises collided. He pulled out again, and with the same force slammed into you. His pace was slow but incredibly consistent but hard . Sensitive from coming already, you found yourself gripping the sheets, the coil in your core winding up once again. Jisung was remarkably quiet save for his heavy breathing, his face was serious and his eyebrows were furrowed with concentration. Jisung took his hand off the headboard and snaked it in between your legs, rubbing and circling your clit in the same way Minho had shown him previously. The added sensation had you writhing under him, another orgasm quickly building. Jisung sucked in air through his teeth and groaned as your walls milked his cock, but again and again, he slammed into you. You were getting close, everyone could tell.

“Cum, baby,” Minho told you again peppering your face with sweet kisses.

“Please,” Jisung begged, his release painfully close for him.

You were so close, babbling and begging to no one in particular, and yet you still couldn’t quite crest over that edge. Jisung growled suddenly in frustration, taking his spare hand from the wall and wrapping it around your throat.

“You’re such a dumb cock slut that you can’t do what you’re fucking told? When you are told to cum, you fucking cum.” Jisung said through gritted teeth, staring daggers through you. He applied no pressure with his hand on your throat, but the sudden shift to dom Jisung sends you careering violently over the edge. Your orgasm ripped through you in waves, made even more intense by the rapid pounding and merciless pounding Jisung was now doing, chasing his own release which too found him momentarily, his head throwing back in ecstasy and filling you thoroughly.

Jisung pulled out of you, but in a blur, Minho was on top of you, fucking you hard and fast. Oversensitive from having just orgasmed, it was far, far too much, tears beginning to pickle in your eyes.

“Tuh… tuh much…” You babble, rather incoherently.

Minho continued fucking into you at breakneck speed, but his words were all encouragement, how beautiful you looked, how amazing you did, how good you felt, how close he was, and how good you were making him feel. Regardless, the overstimulation was turning rapidly into pain and you needed a break.

“Y-Yellow,” You breathed.

Immediately Minho slowed to a stop, pulling his cock out of you and watching your face carefully.

“Do we need to stop? You did beautifully, you don’t have to push yourself anymore.” He caressed your face with the back of his hand and brushed away sweat-drenched hair. As overstimulated as you felt with him fucking you, the sensation of his cock pulling out sends you over and a couple of tears actually spill over.

“No no this will not do,” Minho says wiping away your tears, getting off of you. “Today isn’t a day for tears, come on, let’s draw up a bubble bath and I’ll rub your back with the lavender essential oil.” He starts to get up.

“No!” you almost shout, grabbing his wrist.

Jisung, having finally recovered, was a frequent bottom and recognized the exact thing you were currently feeling. He sits back in bed, sitting next to you. He picks up your hand and brings it to his lips.

“You wanna be good for Minho, huh, kitten?”

“Yeah,” You said, nodding enthusiastically.

“You wanna cum for him and make him feel really good, right? Make a mess all over his cock like you did all over mine?”

“Wanna cum,” you agreed.

“You have to tell him that, kitten,” Jisung said kissing your face softly.

“I wanna cum, please. I wanna be good. I wanna make you feel good, too.” You begged Minho. He kissed you softly.

“You’ve been so good, princess. I’m going to take really good care of you, okay? Lift your hips, please.” As you did so, he slid a pillow underneath, changing the angle so that when he slides back into you, he hit your g spot every single time . The break short was precisely what you needed, and as Minho fucks you again, the oversensitive feeling has already dissipated and the relentless assault on your g-spot brings you rapidly close to yet another orgasm.

Jisung is at your side now, and as Minho is all sweet nothings and praise, Jisung’s mouth is fucking filthy . “I just filled you up with cum and you still can get enough, huh? One cock isn’t enough, you have to have two, how greedy.” He remarks, his tone patronizing but undercut by the delicate way he holds and kisses you.

It isn’t long after your third and final orgasm hits you like a semi. Feeling your walls relax and contract around him sends Minho off of his precipice too as he unloads into you.

Minho rolls off of you and collapses on the bed, silence cut by your heavy breathing settling in as you all recuperate.

“That… was amazing,” Minho said between breaths.

“You can say that again.” Jisung agreed. “I’m not a virgin anymore!”

“You weren’t a virgin before,” Minho pointed out.

“Well I’m not a virgin again ,” Jisung said with a pout. “I lost it twice.”

Minho laughed at him. “Y/N was the star of the show.” He said, rubbing your leg and looking at you fondly. “And tell Jisung he can’t be a double non-virgin.”

“I can’t disagree,” Jisung said, kissing you. “Wait yes I can, to the second thing you said though. Tell him I can so be a double non-virgin!”

You were thoroughly exhausted and still sub-spacy, but you still managed to laugh at the boyish antics of the man in front of you. “Jisung can be whatever he wants to be,” You fake-scolded Minho. “What happened to Dom Jisung?” You asked with a small laugh.

“Yes!” Jisung celebrated. “Oh, he came and went,” He said with a wink.

Both you and Minho groaned at that one.

“In seriousness, I’m sorry that just kind of came out of me, I didn’t expect it myself to be honest! I wish we had talked about it before and I didn’t spring it on you.”

“You’re probably right that we should have talked about it, but it is alright. Obviously, I ended up responding to it.” You replied with a laugh. “Thanks for not choking me without talking about it first.”

“Psh,” he blew you off. “What do I look like, some 50 shades of grey Daddy Dom? Even my sudden subconscious dom side knew that!”

You giggled at him, finally finding the strength to sit up a little bit. Your abs ached, and you were pretty sure your legs had turned to jello.

“Hey Y/N?” Jisung asked suddenly, his tone much more serious.

“Yeah, what's up?”

“If I can be whatever I want, is there I chance I can be your boyfriend?”

The vulnerability in his tone breaks your fucking heart. “Of course baby, but it’s not just my decision. We’d have to ask Minho too.” You looked at him expectantly.

“Who me? The two people I love the most also love each other, sound pretty cool to me.” Minho said with a shrug.

“Then it’s settled, boyfriend .” You said with a wink.

He tackled you in a hug kissing all over your face. “I’m so happy!”

You pat him affectionately but push him gently off. “Careful there I’m covered in enough cum as it is you’re getting more on me!” You whined.

“Oh right, sorry!” He acquiesced.

A couple beats of silence passed before you spoke up again.

“So someone said something about a bubble bath?”

_____________________________________

Hi! Thanks for reading and supporting as always, I hope you enjoyed <3

284 notes · View notes

inkskinned · 1 year

Text

i only bake when im happy. my grandmother taught me this. she says she has "a stigma" about it. (i say "isn't that the holes in the hands like jesus?" and get, from my father, a not-altogether unexpected back-of-the-head whack). she says that cooking you can kind-of fake. but you can taste if someone put their heart into baking.

i haven't made anything in an oven for over a year.

at first it was just plain grief. i couldn't even eat, much less mealplan. i have a weird thing about food; and can eat the same thing, every day, and be extremely happy about it. then i moved; and the oven here is weird, and i figured - ah, i'll figure it out eventually.

being sad silences such odd parts of your life. it's not like i meant to give up baking. i like baking. i list it in my hinge bio. people who have been friends with me for a while know she bakes. i like to make complicated, artistic things - things that take days to plan and a week to execute properly. my favorite does remain chocolate chip cookies - something about them being so simple and so immediately satisfying.

there are people i met in the last year who don't believe me. you don't cook, they laugh. which, i mean, i guess is true. as we speak, i'm eating something out of the microwave for dinner again. but still. i call one of my new friends and i tell her i saw a recipe for snail pretzels. she laughs and says why would you need that?

it's weird, i guess. i have so many very-very-very good memories, barefoot and dancing in yellow kitchens, humming to old music, my hands around a bowl. why, out of everything, is that what the grief stole? just this sudden, strange ... missing piece. and to be honest; it kind of scares me. because it happened so quietly is the thing. i never meant to stop baking. it just ... kind of happened to me.

i'm in the hard part of therapy - where you have to start feeling things. the whole world opens up and suddenly, everything hurts like you're 19. exciting! i am also, at the same time, and for the first time in my whole life - only beholden to me. any longterm choice i make only impacts my life. my first and only priority is just... me. for a while, the only way i experienced this sensation was to think how blisteringly lonely.

but i cleaned my kitchen today. later i will call nick and we will talk about stupid shit. tomorrow alex and i are binge watching tv. i have finished rearranging my plants today; they span my ceiling in a river of green.

and i think. i think. tonight i'll make cookies. i don't know if i'm happy. but it's just. you know. in the spirit of trying.

#spilled ink #literally missed the call to nick while i was writing this oops!#>sorry nick i was writing a poem ur in

3K notes · View notes

greeneyed-thestral · 3 months

Text

I MET MICHAEL SHEEN. 16/03/24, National Theatre

So, if you've read my post about booking tickets to see Michael, you know all about my what-ifs. But the day was finally here.

I arrived at the National Theatre, followed all the Nye signs and here's the Olivier Theatre. I made my sister buy me the show's programme, hoping I would be able to get it signed.

I find my seat, I'm not in the centre but the stage still feels very close and you can see everything (amphitheatres are always the best).

Lights out. The audience is in religious silence. Can't believe I'm actually here, this is happening.

[skip this part in smaller font, if you want to avoid spoilers] In the words of Staged, he really loses himself in his roles. First of all, it's great to hear him speak in a Welsh accent.

But then we also see him turning back into a child, and you can totally believe he's young and innocent again. His stutter feels so real, his struggle and sadness too. The entire ensamble is great during the classroom scene, where they all help Nye against their bullying teacher (using those big canes to make him look scary really works). Hearing young Nye confessing that at times he thinks he 'shouldn't exist' because of who he is was a gut punch; Michael's delivery of that whole part is incredible, in that moment he really becomes a little boy that allows himself to feel vulnerable and says something dark to a friend. The way he jumps while saying "I can visualise and enunciate!" made me wanna jump too, he was ready to give up and then he found the solution through books, it's the joy and relief you feel when you realise that there is another way and your life is not over.

Now, I've watched musicals all my life and let me tell you that man is meant to be in one. He opened his mouth and all I could see was someone that had been waiting a long time for the occasion to show his talent, truly showstopping. He was so free and happy and confident, singing and dancing spectacularly. I couldn't stop smiling and giggling, we all clapped.

It's clear he means every word he says, and when he points and shouts his political arguments at the audience, those who feel called out must be shaking; I thought 'This is how people in Ancient Greece must have felt everytime they went to the theatre'. His Nye is inspiring, passionate, someone you'd want to follow, he stands up for what he believes in and lets nothing get in his way.

We get to watch him flirt, on all fours, waggling his 'tail'; everytime we think we've seen all he's capable of, he does something like this and surprises us.

But most of all, we see him being scared, first of having to do something, and then of not being able to do enough for all of us. At one point everyone has requests for Nye and I was expecting him to shout "Heal yourselves!" like Jesus in JCS, it totally conveyed what it must have been like to be in his role at the time, overwhelmed with daunting responsibilities.

In general, I appreciated the fact that it wasn't a linear biography, they chose life moments that have universal situations everyone can relate too, like they do in bio-musicals. I loved the staging. The colour palette is so recognisable; the curtains and the beds are used in many different ways so everything is explored at its full potential.

He is on stage basically all the time for more than two hours (sometimes twice a day, can you imagine?). Also barefoot and in his pajamas from start to finish, he looks like a teddy bear you just want to hug and protect.

He bows, looks at Nye's achievements, then leaves the stage.

Standing ovation, applause. I go back to the theatre lobby, I was supposed to wait for my sister, but she's late. Meanwhile, a fan asks me how to get to the Stage Door. I start too fear that I'm going to miss my chance if I keep waiting inside, so I decide to go on my own. After no more than 5 minutes, he's outside with us. Forget Nye, I am living my fever dream. He has just finished his second show of the day and yet he's smiling and listening to each and every one, signing and taking pictures. I know many have said this, but he really is an angel.

My sister arrives, and as soon as I'm sure she has the camera ready, I make my way to him. The two girls next to me who were speaking to him needed a pen and I lent them my sharpie, so I got my chance to look generous in front of him.

And suddently it was my turn. This is as much as my scrambled mind allows me to remember: I tell him I'm Francesca and I'm from Italy, he asks me how long I am going to stay, I confess that I had arrived that morning and just to see him, that I would be leaving already the following morning. I can't even focus while he's signing my programme, I just want to find the right words. I manage to say how I enjoyed seeing his passion, all these different sides of him and how watching him sing and dance has been the highlight of my evening. We take a picture together, I feel his hand on my shoulder and I realise my arm is around the waist of this person I love. I had to thank him again, telling him that he only deserves good things and that we are so lucky to have him. He wishes me a safe trip home, and I melt. I leave and I can't stop trembling. On my way back to the hotel I hold on tight to my signed programme and the sharpie that was in his hands just moments earlier. Only later I will realise that he's also written 'Ciao!', 'love' and 'X', without me asking for it or anything! Seeing him act live was a big gift already, but what followed outside was beyond my dreams. I can't look at the photos without blushing, the way he looks at me in the video and then also strokes my arm for a moment, I mean pinch me now.

The more I think about it, the more I can't believe it happened.

I want to thank everyone that under my first post pushed me and encouraged me to see the pros of doing this, I share this beautiful moment of my life with all of you. <3

#michael sheen #nye #national theatre #london #btw I was also wearing one of david's headbands

210 notes · View notes

toxophilitis · 6 months

Text

Horny Peeping Sister cont

Chapter 3

Each day after school, Tom and Becky were left alone in the house for a few hours until their parents got home from work. Although the teenagers were old enough to be left on their own, their mother insisted that they stay in the house and not answer the door or telephone. Neither Becky nor Tom liked the arrangement, but they had learned to accept it. It was easier to just do what she asked rather than argue with their mother.

Usually they spent the time watching television or doing various things in their rooms. It was usually a quiet time for it was not unknown for their mother to come home early and check up on them. Neither child wanted to get in trouble with their mother so they both spent the time doing simple, unexciting things.

But today would be different, Becky vowed. She knew for a fact that her mother had an important meeting at the office and couldn’t possibly come home to check on them and so she intended to confront her brother with what she had seen him doing the other night in the alley.

All day long Becky’s heart pounded. During her classes, she hardly heard a word that her teachers said because her cunt was so itchy all she could think about was satisfying it. She knew that, if she played her cards just right, her own brother would be fucking her before the day was done.

Becky got home first after running all the way from school. She ran right up into the bathroom and took a quick shower, being careful not to get her long blonde hair wet. Then she stood naked in front of her open closet trying to decide what to wear for the seduction of her brother.

Finally she picked out a very short skirt and matching sleeveless blouse. She left one too many buttons on the front of the blouse open and decided to skip wearing shoes. Then she brushed her hair until it was shiny and perfect. Just as she put down her hairbrush, she heard her brother come in.

She stood in the middle of her bedroom listening as Tom did what he did every afternoon. First he went to the refrigerator and took a big drink of milk right out of the carton. Then he grabbed a handful of cookies and headed up the stairs to his room. Becky stood back as he passed her door. She didn’t want him to know that she’d beaten him home.

The blood pounded in her ears as she waited a few more minutes, letting him get settled. She knew he was working on a model in his room and she only hoped that he liked the smell of her pussy better than the smell of model glue.

At last she felt that the time was right. She took a deep breath and padded barefoot down the hall to his room. His door was partly open and she could see him at his desk, model glue in one hand, a tiny piece of gray plastic in the other.

“Hi!” she said, boldly entering his room, her short skirt swinging.

“That looks great.”

“Fuck!” Tom gasped, nearly jumping out of his chair. “Jesus, Becky, you almost scared the crap out of me!”

Becky laughed and fixed him with a strange stare. “You have to be more careful, Brother Dear, you never know when other people are around.”

She laughed some more, and Tom nervously joined her. Her ran his eyes up and down her odd outfit and tried to decide if she meant more with her words than a simple joke.

“When did you get home?” he asked.

“Just a little before you,” she answered, perching on the edge of his desk. “I wanted to be ready to talk to you about something.”

Tom’s stomach flipped, but he told himself to calm down. He was just paranoid if he thought that his own sister knew anything about how he often spent his evenings.

“Yeah?” he answered. “What’s up?”

Becky snorted and looked from his eyes to his crotch. “Nothing now,” she replied. “But there was plenty up last night.”

Brother and sister sat in silence for a few moments, each letting Becky’s meaning sink in. Tom shifted uncomfortably in his chair and noticed how close her long, naked was to him. The scent of her thrilled him.

“What do you mean?” he finally asked, trying to sound innocent. But Becky would have none of it. She could feel his uneasiness and she knew that she had him right where she wanted him.

“I saw you last night, in the alley. I saw it all,” she said.

“Jesus!” Tom gasped. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

Becky smiled down into his wide, pleading eyes, and rubbed her naked

thighs against him. “No, and I don’t plan to either-“

“Good!” Tom sighed.

“Under one condition,” Becky continued, letting her words hang in the air.

“Anything!” Tom said quickly, “Just tell me what you want.”

Becky lifted one bare foot up and put it on her brother’s crotch, rubbing his soft prick roughly. Both teenagers felt his prick involuntarily respond.

“I want your cock,” she said simply.

For an instant Tom was speechless but then, the more he thought of it, the more the idea appealed to him. He’d wanted to fuck a girl for a long time now but he hadn’t known how to go about it. Now here was a girl offering herself to him—what did it matter that she was his own sister?

“Sure, why not?” he said with surprising calm.

“Well, come on then,” Becky said, taking his hand and leading him over to his bed.

Each teenager was certain that the other had plenty of fucking experience and they were each counting on the other to lead the way. Neither wanted to admit that they were as cherry as the other and both hoped to bluff their way through this awkward fuck.

Becky acted very brazen, hoping to cover up her inexperience. She spread herself out on the bed and opened up her legs as she had seen the women in the magazines do. Her pussy was already wet and when she spread her thighs and heard her brother gasp, it got even wetter.

Like he had done it in front of a woman a million times, Tom opened his pants and wriggled out of them. He wanted to take his shirt off too, but he was afraid that if he waited too long his sister might change her mind about letting him fuck her. So, as he had watched the man do to the brunette the night before, he fell on top of Becky and probed around her cunt with the tip of his prick.

“Ohhh!” Becky gasped, all the air rushing out of her as her brother’s weight crashed down.

She kept perfectly still, not knowing how to move or even if she should move. She had seen lots of pictures of people fucking, but they had all been still photographs. The girl didn’t know how much motion fucking really had.

Her breathing grew hot and ragged as she felt her brother feeling around near the opening of her cunt. The tip of his prick knocked all around her cunt-hole and even hit it once but then bobbed away. Becky whimpered with anxiety, Why didn’t he just put it in her?

Tom grunted and thrust, but his cock just couldn’t seem to find her cunt-hole. Finally he reached down between them and grabbed his pounding prick. The size of his hard-on surprised even him, but he captured it and led the dripping tip to the equally wet mouth of her cunt.

Once he located his mark, Tom bucked his hips as he had watched so many other men do and almost to his surprise, he felt his cock forcing its way up into his sister’s pussy. He shoved again and sighed as more of his prick was surrounded by the soft, moist meat of Becky’s pussy.

Becky remained still while Tom started to fuck her. She let out short little yelps of pain as her cunt stretched around his cock. Although she has been finger-fucking herself for a long time, she had never taken anything into her cunt that felt anything near to having her brother’s prick in her pussy.

In the groove now, Tom jabbed his sister’s pussy, delighting in the way she held his cock so tightly. She was so soft on the inside! It wasn’t really anything like fucking his own hand and he knew he’d never be satisfied with beating his meat again after all this.

Using what he’d seen others do to guide him, Tom reached up under his sister’s blouse and cupped one of her small tits. When his fingers closed around the pointy cone, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. It didn’t matter to him that his sister was not as voluptuous as many of the grown women he’d spied on. All he cared about was that Becky was here now, and he was fucking her. Her little titties could not have been more perfect to him.

“Move your ass,” he panted, fucking his whole cock into her pussy.

“Move with me, Beck, come on!”

Her teeth still clamped over her bottom lip with the strange feelings that caromed through her, Becky did her best to do what her brother wanted. She started slowly at first, rocking her hips with his rhythm. But the more he fucked her, the more comfortable she became with the motion and before long her body was moving with Tom, helping him fuck her with long, deep, measured strokes.

“Like this?” she panted, taking his hard fucking. “Okay?”

“Ummm-hummm,” Tom replied, pounding her pussy with the full length of his prick.

Becky felt the juices from her cunt trickling out and running down between the cheeks of her ass. She also found that when she moved just right the base of her brother’s prick rubbed against her clit and made her feel extra good.

The juices that ran from her stuffed cunt-hole excited Becky and made her hump up at her brother faster and faster. She no longer suffered at all from taking her brother’s big prick. Now she felt lost and empty each time he pulled back and emptied her cunt. His cock soon became part of her, and Becky moaned in pleasure. Fucking was everything she had hoped it would be and she intended to do it often from now on.

Tom was having similar thoughts. His sister’s pussy fit around his prick-shaft and the way her moist, squishy insides held his prick and caressed it when he fucked in and out delighted the boy. His confidence soared when he heard his sister sighing with joy, too.

“You like it?” he grunted, thrusting with his cock. “Does it feel good to you, Beck? Huh? Do you like fucking me?”

“Hummm!” Becky moaned, too overcome to speak, “Hummm, yesss!”

She wanted to tell him that fucking his wonderful prick was the best thing that ever happened to her. She wanted to tell him that his cock felt better to her than anything she had ever felt before. She wanted to tell him that she hoped he would never stop fucking her, but the words just wouldn’t come so she moaned and mumbled her joy and tried to make him feel her ecstasy in the way she fucked back at him.

Their fucking got hotter and juicier. The precum that boiled from Tom’s prick mixed with the juices his cock forced out from deep within Becky’s cunt to form a fragrant, erotic mixture that spurred both of the horny teenagers on.

Tom fucked her with long, straight strokes. Then he pulled back and fucked her with just the tip of his cock, letting his own pleasure guide him. When he discovered something that felt especially good, he did it again and again, wanting to squeeze as much enjoyment as possible out of his first fuck.

Like the man he had watched the night before, Tom flipped her blouse up out of the way, baring her titties. First he just looked at them and then he bent down and took the tip of one in between his dry lips.

“Yehhh,” sighed Becky, arching up slightly to make her brother take in all of the tit that he could.

Tom licked the tit-tip and his dry lips and sucked in more of her tit-mound. His mouth opened wide and the soft white flesh filled it, making him breathe through his nose. Her nipple was far inside of his mouth now, and he let the tit pull back out of his oral grasp so that he could thump her nipple with his pointed tongue.

He flicked her nip and it made Becky squeal and squirm. Tom hadn’t expected such a reaction from her, but now that he’d gotten it, he didn’t let up.

Becky wriggled wildly, her whole body writhing around beneath him. Tom had trouble keeping his mouth plastered to her wet, wiggling tit but he did his best. It felt very sexy to have his sister undulating beneath him and he pressed down harder against her.

His cock was again completely buried in her pussy, and with the way she was writhing because of his tit-licking, Tom didn’t have to fuck his sister at all. Becky now did all the work, moving her cunt around and around rather than up and down the swollen shaft of her brother’s cock.

The more she moved, the harder Tom hammered on her tit-tip with his tongue. His breath shot out of his nostrils like fire from a dragon as he felt his cock begin to tingle with the familiar sensation of impending orgasm. He prayed briefly that his sister would not suddenly pull away from him when he started to come. He wanted more than anything to fill her pussy with his hot load of creamy cum.

But Becky was too turned on to even think about taking or not taking her brother’s jizz. His mouth tortured her with pleasure, and she writhed around, her clit sometimes grinding against the base of his prick and making her move even faster than before. She wiggled and snorted, her eyes closed and her lovely face flushed as she got her older brother off.

Tom chewed on her tit harder as he felt the tide in his balls grow more and more violent. He didn’t know if he should warn his sister or not that his cream was about to erupt. His eyes were open wide, and he looked up the side of Becky’s smiling, panting face. He had never seen her look more beautiful.

Becky felt that familiar knot in her belly and she knew she was about to come, too. She had never come with a cock in her pussy before, and she just knew that this orgasm would be the best of her entire life. She wiggled around and around, pushing her cunt down around the base of Tom’s prick. She wanted to have all of his cock inside her when the magic moment arrived.

She could feel Tom’s hot breath against her neck and it sent little shivers of excitement down her side. Along with the goose bumps it aroused, she also felt her nipple go harder and stiffer in his mouth. His tongue lashed it again and Becky let out another high, thin squeal.

Tom reached beneath his undulating sister and grabbed the cheeks of her ass. He held her tightly, trying to hold her still enough that he could fuck her a few last times. The soft flesh of her naked ass filled his palms and he gouged at it with his fingertips, digging into her skin to tame and break her.

With his strong hands holding her that way, Becky could not move as freely as before. But it didn’t much matter because her motions had already taken their toll. When her brother plowed his cock straight down into her one final time, that was all it took to send the young girl over the edge.

“Tommmyyy!” she squealed, her whole body quaking with release.

“Iiiieee!”

Tom leaned against her heavily to keep her from throwing him right off of her. His cock was buried to the root in the undulating chamber of her pussy and then her orgasm reached its peak. It proved too much for the inexperienced fucker, and he let his sister have the load of cream his balls had cooked up for her.

“Agag, gahhh!” he grunted, letting her tit loose and holding her jerking body tight against him. “Ahhh!”

The two of them writhed and spasmed together, neither of them knowing just what would happen next. Their orgasms danced and dove together, one feeding off the other and regenerating itself. The moment went on and on, gathering strength and then ebbing, only to be revived again. But, at last they could come no more and they lay in each other’s arms panting and sighing with relief. Neither wanted to admit that it had been their first fuck, but both of the teenagers knew it would not be their last—with each other or with others.

352 notes · View notes