#like smut is fairly easy

[daydadahlias]

HOW DO YOU WRITE SMUT?

ok that was a little aggressive sorry but i have tried so many times to write it and it’s just so bad. like, it’s not hot, not cute not romantic, not funny. it’s literally blah. so yeah, how do you write smut??

slot A go into slot B and everybody parties

[mostly-imagines]

Sugar on the Rim I

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

warnings: implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), mentions of sex, smut in next part

You twist the stem of the wine glass around between your fingers slowly. Your chin rests atop your knees as you stare vacantly at the tiny puddle left of the drink. You could go refill it, but then you’d have to go back out to the main room and man…you really do not want to do that. So you’ll sit here, swiping your tongue across the bumps of the roof of your mouth as if it's a fascinating new discovery.

The creak of hinges has you shooting upright, your back thumping against the stair step behind you. You’re not immediately sure how to act as though it’s normal that you’re sitting in the stairwell outside the gala rather than in it, fraternizing with old and new money alike. You freeze, trying to relax your posture so it doesn’t look like you’re alarmed at the sight of another person, but not so relaxed that you look as bored as you are.

Your neutrality stutters when you glance up to find the host of the fundraiser. The billionaire host of the fundraiser. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire host of the fundraiser. Your posture straightens right back up and your mouth snaps shut as you make eye contact.

Should you stand up? 

No, he’s rich, not royalty. 

You are in his house though—

He looks you over contemplatively, “I don’t know you,” It’s not accusatory, rather he says it like it’s something interesting.

You perk up at that, immediately formulating reasons to justify your presence. “Oh, uh, no—” the words nearly spill out of your mouth all at once. You clear your throat, “I’m just a plus one for my boss—”

“Who’s your boss?” he asks, relaxed. 

“Arthur Mullins.”

He looks to the side, squinting, “Mullins…he’s the executive at Williamson Industries, yes?”

You nod and he returns the gesture, slower, like he’s processing through something. “I’m Bruce,” he says warmly after a moment, holding his hand out to you.

You nod before you can even think to get any words to come out, “I—yeah, I know,” you accept his hand, shaking it as you tell him your name.

There’s a slight glint in his eye when he hears your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself. “A pretty name.”

“Oh, it’s just…” Just your name. But rather than fill him in on that fascinating tidbit, you let the sentence die off.

He smiles kindly anyway, “What are you doing in here? Party’s out there, or so they tell me.”

“I…I’m hiding in here,” you admit sheepishly.

He leans in towards you slightly, lowering his voice. “I’ll let you in on a secret—so am I,” he smiles at you like it’s easy.

Your grin matches his, “It’s your party,”

“That’s why I need to hide.” He tilts his head, “Doesn’t give you much of an excuse though, does it?”

“I don’t know anybody here.”

He puckers his bottom lip contemplatively, “Your boss.”

You shake your head, “I’m just his assistant. I’m pretty sure he just brought me as a precaution in case he needed a designated driver.”

He laughs at that, “Based on the way I’ve seen Mullins’ attempts to operate, his assistant would have to be a hell of a lot more important than just a designated driver.”

Well, he’s certainly right about that. Your boss doesn’t exactly “have it together” per se. He’s an unorganized man with little to justify his importance in Gotham, so he tends to insist on taking on more responsibility than he has any business having. Not to mention, he’s a bit of a try-hard and you’re constantly left to sweep up the pieces of his reputation that he shattered himself. Not to say he’s necessarily unprofessional, he just will do anything and everything to prove he belongs in any given space. It’s honestly a bit exhausting to watch. It’s more exhausting to try and convince him that the exchange went well afterwards.

You nod slowly, eyes on his shoes. “Mr. Mullins has…a unique approach to business. It does usually leave me fairly busy, I’ll give you that.” You take a quick deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “But that means I occasionally get to go to fancy parties where I don’t know anyone, so..”

“Well then it sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,” he ribs, “Or don’t you agree?”

You smile coyly, “I would never be so bold.”

“I don’t mind boldness. For example, the reason I came in here is because he spotted me.”

You laugh at that, “Mr. Wayne—”

“Bruce.”

“Mr. Wayne,” you suppress your smile as you pause, choosing your words carefully. “I think he’s just networking.” He doesn’t have the money to give.

He nods surely, “He’s definitely just networking.” He really doesn’t have the money to give. You allow just the faintest wisp of a smile to adorn your face as you look down again.

You check the time and realize that you’ve been hiding away for too long and that if he hasn’t already, your boss will notice soon. You sigh quietly to yourself, “I should..”

He turns his head to the closed door where the chatter can be heard from beyond, sighing in defeat as he shakes his head looking back at you. “So should I.”

You feel a bit insecure as you stand, the gown you’re wearing is pretty but it is very much affordable and you’re sure someone as wealthy as Bruce Wayne would know the difference.

If he does notice he makes no deal of it, motioning you forward gallantly to walk ahead of him.

He follows after you, hands behind his back. “Would it be rude of me to ask you to distract him while I run for the bar?”

It’s busy, even for a Sunday afternoon, and you have to sidestep past someone nearly every step you take. You stick next to the windows of the line of boutiques down the road, trying to balance window shopping and not bumping into other pedestrians.

You're in a nicer district of Gotham, truthfully an area you don't quite belong in. So far you’ve only managed to find a couple shops that weren’t several ranges above your budget. 

A call of your name has you blinking rapidly and turning around as if you’re lost. It doesn’t take long for you to pick the six foot two billionaire out of the crowd and it’s only half a second longer before you realize he’s walking towards you. A few people collide shoulders with you as they move past thoughtlessly, no regard for the personal space of the idiot that stopped in the flow of traffic.

You let him approach a couple feet closer before you ask him, “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Wayne?” The presence of his figure in front of you allows for a break from being bumped into, as he seemingly makes for a far more easily seen and intentionally avoided target.

He sways a bit, “Bruce. I’m not sure yet,” he looks down to the couple of bags you’re holding, extending his hand out. “May I?”

It takes you just a moment to move past your surprise at the request, allowing him to hold them for you. “Are you in a rush?”

You shake your head quicker than you meant to, “No, I—not at all,” he gestures his head forward, allowing you to walk before him.

You traipse ahead in silence for a moment before deciding against biting your tongue, “What exactly is it you’re not sure about?”

He raises his voice a bit so you can hear him over the crowd, “Whether or not you’ve got plans on the 19th.”

You look back at him, “What’s on the 19th?”

He stops with you as you admire a set of jewelry inside a window display, “We’re hosting a gala for something or something else, hopefully less boring than the fundraiser.”

You blink, “You’re inviting me?” He nods. “Why?”

“I could use someone who wants to be there even less than I do.”

He said it so casually it takes you a second to even register his meaning. You blink, face contorting defensively, “That’s not—” you can barely make out the smile on his face as he continues on walking.

You shake your composure back together and trail after him, rushing to catch up. “I don’t think Mr. Mullins would be very happy to hear that I’m attending a business gala without him.”

He shakes his head as he scans over the crowd, “He can’t fire you for that.”

“He’ll try.” He would. A petty little man, he is. 

He scans across the rows of clothes leisurely. “Well, then he can speak to me about it. Besides, it wouldn’t be for business.” And then he just lets that sentence linger.

It takes you a moment to recover from those words and begin to start processing the world around you again. After a few more feet down the sidewalk he pulls you gently to the side by your lower arm, out of the rush of traffic, and looks at you dead on, “What do you think?”

You try not to waver under the weight of the eye contact, “I don’t…uh, I don’t really have…” you look down, hoping to get the message across without actually having to say the words.

He glances into the store window next to you and raises his eyebrows, “Well then I’d say we’re in the right place.”

You can’t manage to tell him that this store is definitely far too expensive for you, walking through the door as he opens it for you, albeit apprehensively.

Well. Up close window shopping is more fun anyways. 

The spotless white of the floors and walls has you intimidated, and just as much so by less by the no doubt designer clothes lining the walls. The saleswomen all look pretty highbrow themselves, hair up in tight buns and uniforms chic.

You only break from gawking at the store to look behind you at Bruce. You note the way his eyes roam around blindly, looking for something and clearly having no means to narrow down where it might be. You take one more glance around, immediately finding the women's section with no such difficulty. 

“This way.” You say, nodding your head over to the left. He recovers nicely and lets you lead the way towards the section of dresses. You peer back at him, “You don’t seem like someone that does much of his own shopping.”

Thankfully, he laughs at that. “Well, special occasions.”

You keep your gaze ahead this time, asking as casually as you can, “Is this a special occasion?”

He hums in consideration, “I’d say so.”

You stop upon approaching the dress section, taking in the immediately stunning display of options. 

“What are you doing up here anyways?” you ask, hand brushing across a particularly plush dress.

“Ah, I was headed to a meeting.”

“Oh,” you frown, looking at him. “Don’t you need to go?”

He shakes his head with a puckered lower lip, “No.”

A few seemingly heiresses roam down the aisle mindlessly, not caring much that you’re in their path. 

Bruce sees them before you do, knowing well that they were not going to excuse themselves. “Sweetheart,” he nudges you gently to the side, closer to him as the group passes. His hand remained open-palmed and flat as he guided you to the side, seemingly very careful not to touch you with uninvited boldness. Though you’re quite shaken by the chivalry of the gesture, a brazen touch wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world.

As your arm brushes against a rack of clothing your gaze follows, met with something rather appealing.

Bruce is quick to notice you admiring the sleek black dress that looks like something you’d see a model wearing on a runway. “You like that one?”

“It’s nice, yeah,” you murmur, not really thinking. You flip the price tag over and your face drops. “It’s $800.”

He nods thoughtfully, “We can find a nicer one,” he says, though it’s clear he knows exactly what your problem with the price tag was.

“I can’t—” you restart, “I would never have a reason to wear something this nice again.”

He shakes his head coolly, “That’s alright.”

Your shoulders drop and your head tilts seriously, “It’s not, though.”

“You like it?” He looks you in the eyes, his own searching for a truthful answer.

“I mean, of course, but it—”

He nods affirmatively, “Then we’ll get it. Problem solved.” He turns his back to the rack, casually observing the rest of the store goers. “Pick your size.”

Apparently not one to argue, you thumb through the row until you find one that should fit. 

You sigh, realizing that you’re running out of time to mention that you don’t have $800 to spend on a dress. “I can’t—”

“You don’t need to,” he says simply as he takes the dress off the rack and drapes it across his arm, making his way towards the salescounter.

You try to stop your mouth from hanging open as you follow, “It really is okay, I don’t need—”

His grin cuts you off, just in time for you to hear him mutter, “Sweet girl..” to himself. You stop right in your tracks, feeling very thankful that he’s not looking at you right now because you’re certain the look on your face would give you away.

He still doesn’t face you as he calls out, “Come on,” as he continues on.

Obviously you’re not stupid. You know what type of intentions a billionaire playboy must have with a younger girl that he doesn’t even really know. However, if said billionaire is offering to buy you a pretty dress…no, you’re not sleeping with him because he bought you a dress—of course not—and you’ve made absolutely no promises to do so, so what’s the harm in letting him? Really?

And yeah, maybe it’s a plus that he’s not bad looking, but how is that your fault?

You stand a bit awkwardly next to him as he puts his card in the machine, not even glancing at the outrageous number, and declines the offer for the receipt.

As you exit the store together and stand at the doors as he hands your original two bags back to you along with the new shiny black one that on its own looks like something people would pay for.

“You will be there?” he asks, eyes more hopeful than you were prepared for. 

You nod, gesturing the bag up, “Well you just bought me the dress.”

He shrugs that off, “I would’ve bought you the dress anyways.”

You linger in the midst of the ado wearing a dress that you feel far too overshadowed by, fidgeting with the half empty wine glass in your hand. Unfortunately, this time around you were invited by the host of the event and it would be extra rude to run away and hide. That doesn’t stop you from considering it, though.

A hand sliding across your lower back has you momentarily startled, and for reasons you couldn’t quite verbalize, you’d naturally assumed it was Bruce. The disappointment rings strong when you turn around to be met with the sight of an even older man, who looks considerably wine drunk. 

“Hello there, Miss.,” The words themselves are polite but the salacious smile on his face and the way his eyes have no trouble roaming your body gives you a solid idea of what this conversation is going to entail.

“Hello,” you fake a polite, tight smile and shift your attention to the rest of the room. 

This does nothing to deter him, as he takes a sizable step back into your line of sight. “Having a nice time?” 

The man is clearly from money, if his attire didn’t give it away his attitude sure did. There’s an heir of entitlement around him, like he’s inherently deservant of your attention—a quality you were notably surprised to not have found in Bruce. 

You give him your faux-smile again, this time tighter but half a second longer for the sake of politeness. A rookie mistake.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, gesturing to the bar.

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say, gesturing your wine glass up.

A momentary flash of irritation crosses his face, but to his credit, he does a better job recovering from it than you would have expected. Though, that’s not really saying much. “Well, pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be all alone here,”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Both of your heads snap to the side, finding a much more welcome surprise than you’d previously received. 

Your counterpart's posture straightens immediately, “Mr. Wayne,” he fawns, “What a lovely event you’ve thrown. I’m sure the Bernsteins will be appreciative.”

Bruce hums, eyes narrowed slightly. “You are…”

The man startles and rushes to finish off his sentence, “Alexander Watson, senior executive to the accounting department for the research wing of the company.”

He nods slowly, no recognition actually present in his eyes. “Ah. The research wing of the company that just blew fifteen million dollars on prototype self-operating cell phones.”

You’re trying hard to fight the smile creeping up on your face.

“What exactly is a self-operating cell phone?”

Watson’s face drops, hurrying to justify his approval of the proposal’s funding. As he rambles, Bruce’s gaze lowers to where Watson has once again placed his hand on your hip, though he’s not close enough to you for it to rest fully or naturally. You don’t know him well but you can say confidently that he doesn’t look pleased. 

He looks back up to Watson, attitude challenging. “Surely you’re not poking around where you’re unwelcome?”

Watson stutters at that, blinking and shaking his head quickly. “No, no, of course not! I was just hoping to provide the young lady with some company. That’s all.”

“And so you have.”

“I—,” about two steps behind in this conversation, Watson finally decides to retreat, “Yes, good evening, Mr. Wayne.” He bows his head and shuffles away back into the crowd.

“Mr. Wayne,” you smile knowingly, turning to him. “How are you?”

The hardness of his gaze fades quickly as he takes in your appearance, quite liking how you wear the dress you’d picked out.

“Things are looking up,” he smiles, “You look lovely.”

 “Thank you,” you glance over to where Watson has made his way to the bar, likely about to down an entire glass. “Mr., uh, Mr. Watson makes quite the impression.”

His smile turns a bit sullen, “You know last year he tried to convince the board that battery-powered battery chargers were going to be the next big thing?”

You blink, tilting your head, “Thought you didn’t know who he was.”

His eyes are fixed on the wall as he tugs the corner of his lip down, knowing he’s been caught but not really caring. “I’m sorry to have been away for so long, it seems everyone needs my attention at these things.”

“At the gala that you threw? I’d imagine so.”

He rolls past that smoothly, “You’re having a good time?”

“I am,” you say with a confirming head bob.

He regards the room with a numb expression, “You know, I think I’m getting bored with all of this.”

You smile at him, brow furrowed, “It’s only been an hour.”

He looks at you, eyes wide. “It’s only been an hour?” He’s exaggerating his surprise to make you smile, and it works.

“I think we should go,” he says lower.

You stare at him, bemused. “You still have a whole room full of guests.” 

He shrugs, “They’ll filter out on their own eventually.” 

He clocks your hesitation easily, accurately noting it to be more out of politeness than actually wanting to stay at the party. “What, you’re not ready to leave?”

You look around at all the mostly old, posh guests, disinterested small talk evident all across the room. You take a breath, “Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

He smiles and leads you out a side door and through a corridor that’s significantly longer than you’d expected. 

“Do you always ditch your parties this early?” you ask, following closely.

He makes a sharp right at the next doorway, “If I can manage it.”

You look around at the high wooden ceilings and grand furniture. “Aren’t some of them friends of yours?”

He shakes his head, “My friends aren’t here.”

You frown at that, “Then why do you throw them at all?”

“Why did you show up last weekend?”

You nod slowly, understanding. “It’s your job.”

He returns the nod, adding, “Only difference is, there’s not a chance in hell you get paid enough for the work you do for Mullins.”

For the sake of maintaining your wishful facade of professionalism, you’re going to not acknowledge that incredibly accurate statement. Instead you smile politely and continue on walking. He seems to get the implication, returning it with an even brighter adornment.

“Well, money’s money,” you say wryly.

His smile fades a bit, “You shouldn’t have to worry about things like that.” 

You shrug, “A day in the life,”

He looks sullen upon hearing that, with more sympathy than you’d have expected from someone of his stature. He’s done nothing if not surprise you, though.

“Here,” he says, taking hold of the handle of a glass door. It opens to a garden, lit up beautifully by the moon and outdoor light. A fountain sits in the middle, water rhythmically gushing out of the top and trickling down the sides. The bite of the Gotham night air burns at your cheeks a bit and you find yourself thankful the dress you’d chosen is so long.

Bruce leads the way to an expensive marble bench positioned nicely in front of it, allowing you to sit first before following suit. Your hands find a place in your lap, clasped together awkwardly in an attempt to find warmth through contact.

It takes Bruce less than ten seconds to stand, remove his suit jacket, and drape it over your shoulders before sitting back down. The material is thicker and warmer than you would’ve expected, surely reminiscent of the perks of being owned by a billionaire.

He doesn’t look at you to acknowledge the grateful expression on your face, simply carrying on like it didn’t happen. “Was hoping it was warmer,” he murmurs.

Your focus momentarily goes to the icy cold stone of the bench under your thighs, initially finding it uncomfortable before deciding the coolness actually felt quite soothing. You remove your gaze from the gray stone and turn your head to find Bruce already focused on you.

You start to say something, though you’re not sure what it would’ve been, when he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down.

Well, he certainly knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?

His eyes stay on your lower lip as he murmurs, “You’re a pretty girl, you know that?” 

God, he’s a professional.

You look up at him and refrain from saying anything, waiting to see if he follows it up with something that will make you regret agreeing to coming out here with him.

He doesn’t.

You shift, moving your hands off your lap to rest on the stone under you. “You can’t just do this—”

He smiles and lowers his chin to look you in the eyes, “Then what can I do for you?”

“You—” you blink rapidly, “Stop it.”

His coy beam persists, “Stop what?”

You raise your gaze up to him ever so slightly, a pouty expression across your face that you’re trying to sell as serious. “You’re trying to make me nervous.”

“Do I make you nervous?” He tilts his head down further, a ghost of a smile echoing on his lips, “I don’t mean to, sweet girl.”

Your eyes drop to the ground, biting your tongue. “Yeah.”

His simper grows, “I’m serious. I’d hate to scare away a new friend.”

You laugh at that and he perks up a bit at the sound, “What? We’re not friends?”

You cock your head to the side, “You’re the one who said none of your friends are here.”

He hums, “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

“You think so?” You should probably stop flirting so much. 

“Yeah,” he leans in a bit closer, “I do.”

“Why’s that?”

“Maybe I want to be your friend,” his hand finds a place atop yours. 

Your eyes flicker across his face as he closes in, “What if I don’t want to be yours?”

His eyes are on your lips, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

You take a slow deep breath, “Your intentions are blurry.”

He smiles lightly, amused. “We’ll have to clear that up then, won’t we?” His lips are inches away and his voice is soft as he says, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

You look up at him eyes wide, barely processing his words as you nod. He gently grasps your jaw in his hand, tilting your head up. His other hand finds the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you with intention. Your hands hover in the air for a second before holding onto his forearms. 

He breaks the kiss only to give you another sweet one right after. Your mouths remain close when it’s over, eyes still shut, trying to catch your breath. You stay like that for a moment until he kisses you once more on your cheekbone before pulling away. His hands drop to rest on your knees, the weight of them gentle.

He hums lowly, “Sweet thing..”

Being under the heaviness of his gaze leaves you feeling vulnerable. It’s starting to get you concerned with the potential levity and implications of kissing him. The expectations.

“You…” you stare down at where his hands meet your skin, not quite sure that you actually meant to start that sentence. 

“What?” he frowns, brow pinched. Your chin lowers further as your mouth forms a tight line. He shakes his head, “No, it’s alright. What is it?” he asks gently.

It takes a surge of willpower for you to get the sentence out, “You just want to sleep with me..”

He frowns harder at that, pulling back a bit. “No. I’m…” he sighs, “I’m not trying to lure you in just to toss you out right after.”

That makes you look up again. His voice has a sincerity to it that you weren’t prepared for. 

He continues, “I would like to, yes. Yeah. You’re beautiful, of course I would, but..” he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you, “No, that’s not the most important thing to me.”

You break eye contact again, thinking over his words. If that’s not the most important thing to him, what is? You can’t think of what else he could possibly want from you, a billionaire who could have anything he wants..the only thing you could have to offer in his eyes is sex. 

Right?

He exhales, “If you want to leave, I’ll call you a car. No hard feelings.” He nudges your chin up gently so you’ll look at him, but he gives you the freedom to fight against it if you wanted to.

You let him move you.

“I don’t want to leave,” you tell him, looking into his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want,” he says it like it’s automatic. You physically can’t help but roll your eyes at the corniness of it. He doubles down, though, “Seriously. Anything.”

You smile in disbelief, shaking your head.

“Alright,” he returns your smile, straightening, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Do you need a ride home?”

You blink at him, “I’m going home?”

“You are,” he nods softly, “Do you need a ride?”

“No.”

He nods again, more like he’s working through something in his head. “Okay. You’re going to go home and think through what you want. If you decide you want to, come back here next Saturday.” he stands up, extending his hand out to you, “Then you can let me know what else you want and we can get to work on that too.”

You start to shake your head, “I can—” 

He drops his chin seriously, “Think on it.”

You relent easily, taking his hand and coming to a stand.

“Alright?” Again, his question is genuine. He does really want to know if you’re on board with this plan. 

Already going against his request, you agree without a thought, “Okay.”

He starts to lead you back over to the garden door with a head nod and a kind smile.

It ultimately was not a decision you had to think very hard on.

You’d considered every scenario of how this could play out and none of them ended with regret as far as you could guess.

You’ll still admit though, there was one scenario you had missed, apparently, which is why you were immeasurably confused when you showed up and he invited you to play chess.

He’s not wearing a fancy three piece suit this time, but his clothes are still very nice. With the sunlight peeking through the windows, you’re able to see the manor more clearly than you had been the other night. It really is a beautiful home, clearly very old and charmed, but there’s a lot of little details of character and history scattered around. There’s portraits and photographs of his parents from when he was young and furniture decorated with trinkets all throughout, kept absolutely spotless and dust free. Everything is neat and tidy but there’s still traces of the house being lived in with the patched throw pillows and worn carpets. Still, it’s very, very placid.

You’ve met new money plenty of times over the course of dealing with countless businessmen for Mr. Mullins but old money is something entirely different. You don’t really have a frame of reference here. New money is almost always brash and demanding, they like things done quickly and correctly the first time around. They’re usually not very interested in hearing what you have to say (even if it would save them a lot of trouble) and prefer it when the assistants women keep their mouths shut. Bruce has proven to be very different from these standards already and you’re not sure where to begin with placing new ones.

You’re about halfway through a second game, and while you’re not awful at chess, you get the impression that he’s easing up on you considerably.

You sit on the floor in front of a short coffee table, the game having no clear lead so far.

“I think this is stressing me,” you mumble, no actual weight behind your words.

“It’s just chess,” he says, not looking up from the board.

You watch him move his knight forward as you ask, “And that’s all we’re doing?”

“As it stands, yes,” he looks up at you, though you don’t return his gaze.

“Yeah,” you sigh, sliding your rook, “But later?”

“Later?”

“Well, you said...” you meet his eyes, “You said you wanted to sleep with me.”

He nods slowly, “I do. Is that alright?”

You consider it for a moment. You already knew that, if you really weren’t okay with it you wouldn’t have come here. And yeah, the idea makes you a little shaky, but in a good way.

“Yes,” you tell him, moving your queen forward two spaces.

“Are you sure?” he presses, moving to sit on the side of the table rather than behind it.

You do the same, sitting on your knees. “Yeah, I just..” you shift your weight, eyes wandering. “I’m not…overly experienced.”

He just smiles at that, like it’s endearing. Your words didn’t quite convey your meaning but your tone did. In any case, he understands the implication. “That’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not going to throw you in the deep end.”

You nod, looking down again.

“You’re nervous,” he comments.

“No, I’m—I mean, maybe,” your voice is barely a murmur by the end of the sentence.

He’s quiet for a moment, observing the way you fiddle with your rings. “What if we get you something pretty to wear? Something that makes you feel pretty. Whatever you want.”

He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, opening and pulling out a lump of cash without even looking. He holds the money out to you wordlessly and you can see from the bill on the outside that it’s at least a couple hundred dollars.

You shake your head instantly, “I can’t take that.”

He doesn’t put the money down but his eyes turn to begging. “Please. I just want you to feel good.”

“Bruce—”

He wavers a bit at that but it’s more of a falter than you’ve seen from him before so it’s easy to take notice of. “What?”

He shrugs barely, “I like when you say my name.”

Your eye contact holds for a moment and your resolve starts to shake almost instantly.

You exhale, “I’m not taking more than a hundred.”

“Two hundred.”

“Bruce.”

He smiles and picks out some of the cash and pockets it, handing you the rest. You don’t comment on the fact that it’s a hundred and fifty more than you’d agreed on.

You look down at the money in your hand like it’s a foreign object, shaking your head. “I don’t even know what to get.”

His thumbs start to rub reassuring circles by the bend of your knees, “Anything you want,” he tells you. “What do you like? Silk, lace, cotton, anything.”

You look up, tilting your head at him with a furrowed brow. “It doesn’t matter what I like, th—”

“It only matters what you like,” He says seriously, lowering himself to meet your gaze. “I’ll love it, no matter what you pick. Don’t worry about that.”

You lean forward a bit instinctually, “Okay.”

His eyes scan across your face in something that you can only recognize as awe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whisper.

“I want to kiss you again,” he says, voice even quieter.

Your eyes go to his mouth and you can only manage a nod, lips already parted.

He moves forward not a second later, kissing you with more fire than you’d gotten to see the other night. His hands grab at your waist, squeezing lightly as you hook one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

You hear the clatter of chess pieces falling over as he moves nearer to you, large frame leaning over you. You push up on your knees, meeting his lips up at his level. His hands caress around your hips as the kiss gets deeper.

You just start to fumble with the hem of his shirt when he takes your hands in his, pulling them away before breaking the kiss.

“Easy, sweet girl,” he smiles, nudging you back with little force.

You groan, “Why?”

He barks out a laugh at that, stroking your hips again. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on the floor.”

“Then let's go somewhere else,” you nod up towards the stairs.

He shakes his head, that soft smile still playing on his lips. “Not tonight.”

You sit back on your heels again, frowning.

He brushes your hair back, murmuring, “No. But for now, I'll kiss you ‘til you can’t think if that’s what you want.”

You really hope you didn’t perk up at that as much as you think you did.

🌾🌽 i heard a rumor that if you like without reblogging your crops will be cursed but hey what do i know 🌾🌽

[simpjaes]

BIG D*CK FOR DUMMIES (s.jy)

The one where you find out that your boyfriend has a huge cock and you’re not entirely sure if you can take all of it. 

MDNI!!! | pls leave feedback and reblog your fave writers!

PAIRING ― jaeyun x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT ― 2.4k

CONTENT ―  first time, established relationship, top jaeyun, painful sex

NOTE ― this was originally written for a different idol on my other blog [ncteez] but i pictured jake in that one en o’clock episode doing this and went feral so……here’s ur giant package. 

smut tags― he’s a little cocky (lmao), i guess you could say size kink but it’s more like huge cock / tiny pussy size kink, theres some crying, praising, reader gets off like almost instantly and becomes incredibly cock drunk the second he’s able to actually fuck

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Things you knew about your boyfriend before dating: he’s very protective, super smart, has good taste in music, his hands are big and warm, and he’s very down to earth.

Things you didn’t know about your boyfriend until after dating and he’s on top of you during a moody and rainy night makeout session: his cock is huge and it’s very intimidating.

One might ask, how could you have not known? Well, that’s easy. It’s a fairly new relationship and a very shy relationship at that. It’s a bit embarrassing for you, actually, because it’s not like you don’t want to be intimate with him. You definitely do, and apparently so does he. 

It’s the first time in the three weeks you’ve been dating that you’ve gotten to be completely alone with him in an intimate setting. For one, you live with your parents, and secondly, he lives with three other dudes who like to be all up in his business. It’s not exactly easy to get alone time with him. Thankfully, your parents are out on a five-day holiday somewhere in the Bahamas and you’re here on your family couch with Jaeyun’s hands cradling your neck as you kiss him. 

It got heated very fast, presumably because the two of you haven’t really had the privacy to do more than a standing makeout session without someone listening in, or worse, walking in. It almost makes the air feel electric now, kind of like a breath of fresh air except the fresh air tastes like the fruity chewing gum he had in his mouth when he originally came over.

Here’s the thing though, and man, it’s a thing. Looking at Jaeyun you’d think he’s average at best and you’re not really the type to go around guessing dick sizes.  So, naturally, when he slots a leg between yours as he got on top of you and you fucking felt it against your leg, you were a little more shocked than anticipated. Maybe he let out a little snide chuckle at your reaction too, you wouldn’t know, you were kind of busy wondering when he was going to let you in on the secret. 

Now, here you are deep in thought of how the hell that thing is going to fit anywhere while simultaneously one hundred percent willing to make it fit because god, does he know how to makeout and feel someone up. 

The more he kisses you, the more his hands roam, the more you experience intimate touches with him, the more you feel like your skin is on fire and replacing that intimidation with extreme arousal and lust. All the way until the point that the presumed makeout playlist starts over and he finally pushes a bit further with you.

“Is this okay?” He asks, now slotting himself entirely between your legs and essentially pressing his length directly against the pool that is threatening to seep through your fucking denim shorts. 

You give him a half nod, trying to pretend that he’s definitely a normal man with a normal cock. He smiles though, knowing full well that this isn’t what you were expecting. No one ever expects it from him. 

“You seem occupied,” he comments, pressing himself against you a little more and leaning down on his arms to nip at your lips. “or shocked, maybe?”

You try to kiss him to shut him up, not wanting to expose yourself for being entirely inexperienced with a size like his. 

“Hm?” He encourages you, pulling back again and looking directly into your eyes with a confident smirk. 

“Well,” you shift your eyes away and sigh out, “you’re kind of huge…” 

He takes that compliment and runs with it. It’s not like the two of you have to finally have sex or anything, but you both knew what was happening and you both definitely knew what the other wanted. At least ten minutes ago that was the situation.

“Is it too much?” He asks, this time a bit more concerned that his own biology could ruin this for you. 

“Probably? no, maybe?” 

Jaeyun pulls away from you, moving himself to sit back against the couch and give you your space. Considering probably and maybe isn’t a yes, he feels no need to push or pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do. There have been times where he’s hurt another person while being intimate, though not intentionally, he’s not exactly willing to do that to you unless you’re like, you know, jumping his bones for it. 

“Still, i’d like to try–” You start, looking at him as you sit up and feel your entire body tingle at the cold air that replaces his warmth. “Maybe if we take it slow– like, really slow?”

He looks at you with shining eyes. He asked you to be his girlfriend because he genuinely likes you. He likes your voice, he likes the way you smell, likes when you talk about your favorite songs and favorite movies. He was definitely smitten from the moment he saw you trip on your own two feet down the front porch of a house party months ago. Taking it slow with you was pretty normal, and the fact that you want him too just makes him all the more willing to take his time. 

“I’ll take care of you, ” he hums, spreading his legs a bit across the couch to give himself more space to re-adjust himself. “Just tell me if I need to slow down?” 

You nod, staring directly between his legs and rubbing your own together on instinct. If anyone’s gonna split you open, it might as well be your boyfriend.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

When he said he would take it slow with you, he really meant it. The fact that he curled three fingers into you for a solid twenty minutes and you still feel like your legs will buckle on you at any moment knowing that this is just for prep– oh damn. 

 The fact that he even used his tongue on you for the first time, making sure you were more slippery than you already were for another twenty minutes? The fucking fact that you were on the verge of orgasm when he pulled it out and presented it to you like a cock you could totally sit on without issue? 

Fuck.

Reality washes over you far too quickly when you actually make that attempt. 

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel like you were being torn apart by him, but part of you loves the way his gentle hands hold you steady as you try to sink down. You can feel the wet heat between your legs coat his length inch by inch as you start to slide down.

He stops you only for a moment when he notices you wincing. 

“Breathe, baby, just a little more.” He encourages, getting a nod from you before guiding you down further.

You breathe, clenching around him and doing your best to stop doing that so you can relax. You can tell he’s struggling to actually take it slow by now too, only because you can feel his hands shake against you as he holds himself back from obliterating you, probably. You’d think it would be quite endearing to see, if it weren’t for the fact that your eyes are blurring from the tears threatening to fall. 

Feeling embarrassed, you wipe your eyes and focus on how he feels inside of you. The pain is still there, but as you “sit” here, that pain somehow does replace itself with a strange sensation of pleasure little by little. You’ve always wondered what it felt like to be full, and it appears that this is exactly it.

It’s overwhelming.

“Do you want to stop?” He asks after noticing your tears, a bit of panic in his voice despite the fact that you could have sworn hearing a moan come out alongside it, “Pull up, it’s okay, you can–”

You sink down further instead, now bottoming yourself out on him and releasing a broken whine of both pain and pleasure. He grunts in unison to your whine, gripping your hips even harder than he already was and squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Fuck,” he sighs out, lazily opening his eyes to look at the way you perch yourself on him so perfectly. “Such a tight fit.” 

You nod, mostly unable to hear a word he’s saying as you try to relax your body enough to get rid of that small hint of pain. The consistent clenching of your adjustments send your boyfriend spiraling a bit, unable to contain his sighs of pleasure as your tight and wet heat squeezes his cock.

“Tell me when I can move, please, tell me–” He groans out almost frantically, staring down at where you sit flush against him and wanting so badly to fuck into you.

 He’s wanted to do this to you since you started dating, now that it’s finally happening, and now that you’re quite literally jerking him off simply by adjusting to his size– you know, it’s not exactly easy to contain himself. 

You take a few more seconds to breathe before your body finally relaxes and you give him a reluctant nod. 

Instantly it’s like you’re seeing stars. He barely moves, all he does is flex his abs and press his hips up and it’s like he manages to fit another non-existent inch inside of you. 

You groan out, falling forward against his chest and gripping onto his shoulders as you feel your body adjust to even that small movement. To you, this is so fucking embarrassing, but to him? 

Hottest thing ever. Really. 

He can hear your whiny gasps against his neck when he moves and it’s driving him fucking wild, especially considering the fact that his cock is driven so deeply inside of you that he thinks you’d tell him to stop— but you don’t. 

You’re so good to him, and for what it’s worth, he wants to make sure this will be the best orgasm of your life.

Slowly, his hands fall to your ass and guide you up. You feel slight relief as a few inches leave you, and your stomach bubbles with that same sensation of both pleasure and pain when he slides you back down.

He moans out at you, almost like he’s cooing in pity at how much you’re trying to take for him. It’s incredibly sexy to hear now that your ears have stopped ringing and you’re beginning to believe that you’d never want anything smaller than him anyway.

This time, you lift on your own and sink back down just as fast, wincing again against his neck but releasing a moan that sounds more like pleasure than anything else. He sees this as a green light, gripping your ass and encouraging you to lift slightly again.

“Stay like this.” he mutters with a deep breath before kissing against your forehead and thrusting his hips up once, hard. 

The tight heat you’re offering sends him into a frenzy when paired with the wet slap of his pelvis hitting your pussy, and the sounds you’re making offer little in terms of stopping because by now, you’re both loving it. 

He thrusts into you with ease, the drag loud and slippery, the moans of pleasure you release only make him go faster, harder. Almost releasing a whimper of his own at how fucking perfect you are for taking all of it.

“Look.” he tries to let out, waiting for you to pull yourself up from his chest and look at him.

You do with ease, that broken face from before now replaced with lustful and blown out pupils. 

“Look how good you take it,” he praises with a groan, almost punctuating each word with a thrust, “knew you could take it.” 

Your broken smile that falls into a slack mouthed string of nonsense only continues to push him.  All the way until you can’t think straight at all, and you’re feeling your body tense up with such pressure that you can’t even warn him before your walls are clenching so tightly that it even hurts him. 

You grasp onto him for dear life as your orgasm washes over you, drenching his entire length as you hold your breath. Never have you gotten off while feeling so fucking full, and arguably, you don’t think you could ever feel an orgasm so intense without him being the one to split you open.

“There you go baby.” he hums, watching you breathlessly fall apart on top of him before picking up his rhythm again and chasing his own high.

By this point, you’re so well adjusted that even the searing pain of his restless thrusts feel good. Your brain is foggy but you can’t help but just fucking watch him.

This is your boyfriend and this is what it looks like when you’re making him feel good. 

“Are you close?” you start to bounce on him, meeting his rhythm and allowing him to rest his own hips. 

He nods as he looks at you, awestruck with how you’re already able to ride him as if you weren’t whining just moments before. Seeing you take him in full like this is enough to have his cock pulsing.

“Just a bit more, baby.” He closes his eyes and runs his hands up your waist. “Keep riding me, fuck.” 

And that, you do. Feeling proud of yourself for being able to actually take this literal monster, you focus on the twitch inside of you as he releases with a deep and breathy moan.

It’s entirely too sexy to ignore, and you continue to bounce even as he tries to hold you in place to subdue the sensitivity of his cock being fucking strangled by how tight you are. 

Once his body stops jerking and you feel the last twitching release inside of you, you fall forward and both of you groan from the sensitivity. 

“There are pros and cons to having a big dick, i guess.” he admits in a groan. 

Even when you laugh, there’s another wince from both of you followed by a groan.

“Pros: big dick.” he whispers, holding you still against him so you don’t move again before he can soften up and pull out. “Cons: big dick.” 

You still laugh, and it still hurts. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

me and my lame ass endings lmfaooooooooooooooooo

[solarsturniolo]

𝕻𝖑𝖆𝖞 𝕯𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 // 𝕸.𝕾. // 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕺𝖓𝖊

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You never got along with him. Even after years of being friends with his brothers, he never gave you a second glance. He’s hated you for almost six years, what could one weekend at their family’s lake house do to change that?

𝔇𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: None of my stories are real, they are all fictional. You are responsible for what you read. Please read with caution. Practice safe sex. A tritoon is a type of boat. This is a two part story, there will ONLY be two parts and they will be long. THERE WILL NOT BE A THIRD PART TO THIS STORY.

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: This basically turned into a novel. lots of plot (you’ve been warned) / Toxic!Matt (if you squint) / tension building / enemies trope / cursing / SMUT / dumbification kink / p in v / unprotected sex / Dom!Matt / spanking / pet names / lots of dirty talk / a true breeding kink / creampie /

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 15,140

©Solarsturniolo 2024

You were never friends.

How could you be?

His brothers were easy to get along with. Nick cherished you. He had a hard time maintaining friendships, people came and went like the seasons or the wind. It took a while for him to open up fully, afraid that it would be the same with you. But you were different. You stayed during the hard times, loving him when he felt like he couldn’t love himself. It made a change in how he perceived friendships. He rarely went anywhere without offering you an invite. All of his social media pages; an intricate collage of pictures and videos together, capturing your happiest moments with each other. His camera roll practically bursting with memories. Years worth of polaroid pictures remained tacked onto his wall, even as time passed he never took them down. He made his appreciation of your friendship known, never shying away from his platonic love for his best friend. 

Chris adored you. In his words, you were like the sister he never had. You immediately clicked the first time you had met, something he wasn’t used to. He was fairly reserved around new people, but you brought his personality out so naturally and easily. People made their assumptions about your relationship with him, it was difficult for them not to when you were both practically joined at the hip; doing everything together even if it was insignificant as going to the garage for a soda or making a trip to the nearby convenience store. He knew everything about you, and you, him. Though his love was platonic, he made it known to everyone: he loved you. Things weren’t perfect, you had arguments and disputes, but at the end of the day he would do anything to repair the cracks and wears in the foundation of your friendship. 

Matt despised you. Or, at least, that was how it felt. He never went out of his way to initiate conversation with you, and it was rare for him to acknowledge you in social settings. Sometimes you could feel him looking at you. It was a feeling that made your blood run cold, your skin crawling with goosebumps. It was worse when you caught him; the way his eyes scanned over you, a shit eating smirk plastered on his face as he looked away, paying no mind to you for the rest of the time you were there. It was a weird feeling, one that would keep you up at night. Part of you wanted to smack that grin off of his face, to pluck his wandering eyes right out of his head. You hated the way his gaze objectified you, making you feel weak and helpless while everyone around you remained ignorant to his behavior. You hated the way he’d cut you off when you’d speak, a satisfied smirk creeping onto his face when you’d shut down and shy away from the conversation, only speaking again if prompted by another person. 

You knew that he did it for some weird power trip. To control you, at least to a certain extent. Years went by, but his behavior remained a constant variable. How he could go years of giving you the cold shoulder, you had no idea, but he managed to do it with ease. But as the years went by you cared less and less. As long as his sour mood and crude behavior didn’t intervene with the friendships you had built with his brothers, you couldn’t care less…

Or that's what you told yourself. 

It ate away at you, no matter how much you told yourself that you didn’t care. Why doesn’t he like me? What did I ever do to him? What do I do to fix it? Why don’t his brothers see it? The way that he looks at me and treats me…Why does it all get swept under the rug? It swirled around your mind, haunting you with hypothetical ideas of how you could have changed everything. Anything you could have done differently just to be on okay terms with him. You weren’t asking for much; you didn’t expect him to be best friends with you, and you certainly had no expectation of him to fall to his knees and declare his undying love for you. But a smile every now and again, a kind word here and there…it would be enough.

It certainly would have made this trip more enjoyable.

“MATT! Quit skipping my music!”

“Or what, Chris? You’ll just queue more-”

Chris leaned over the center console, getting into his brother’s personal space. Matt kept his eyes glued to the wide stretch of road in front of them. “I built that queue from the ground up, I very meticulously chose each song-”

“Chris, what’s the definition of meticulous,” Nick spoke up, his head still resting on your shoulder, eyes glued to his phone. He really wasn’t paying much attention to his brothers squabbling, but his bullshit radar could pick up their nonsense from miles away. The way he interjected himself into the conversation made you smile, he always found a way to be included in their arguments, even if it was just to feed the flame. 

Chris turned his head to look at Nick, furrowing his brow at him. “Why do you need the definition if I know how to use the word right?” 

“Did you use the word right?” Nick rebutted. 

Their argument continued for another ten minutes, even after Chris had Googled the word and passed his phone around as if he were in a blunt rotation, the definition displayed on his screen for everyone to see. His smug demeanor was short lived, though. Matt and Nick very rarely lost an argument with their brother, but when they did, they would share a mutual look and move into Phase Two: gaslight the motherfucker until his brain fried. 

Sometimes it was entertaining to watch, but after being trapped in a car with them for, going on, four hours, you were ready for some peace and quiet. The sound of their quarreling became muffled as you put your airpods in, the noise canceling feature kicking into high gear once both pods were snug in place. You flicked through different playlists on your phone before selecting one that was a little less…intense than the music Chris had been playing previously. Pressing the shuffle button, you let your phone fall into your lap, resting your head against the window and watching the endless line of trees pass by. Nothing but brush and trees for miles ahead. You were excited to be going on this trip with some of your best friends, but you couldn’t help the sense of dread that lingered like a shadow in a dark alleyway. Something terrifying looming in the air, a figure of black lurking just out of sight. A bottomless pit of existential worry formed in your stomach just thinking about anything and everything that could go wrong.

This was going to be a long weekend.

X O X O X O

Gravel crunched beneath the tires, loose pebbles flying up as the beast of a vehicle slowly came to a stop in the unpaved driveway. 

It was late. 

There was still some light outside, enough to see the cluster of dark clouds beginning to close in. The faint warm glow seeping through the windows of houses just across the stream contributed some light, but not much. The dark shadows from the trees absorbed most of it before it could get very far. As the van shifted into park, you lifted your head from where it had been resting, somewhat uncomfortably, against the window. The roar of the engine, that you had all unknowingly grown accustomed to, died down to a soft purr before stopping entirely. The overhead lights flickered to life, illuminating the interior of the car with a hazy yellow glow. For a brief moment, everything came to a complete stop. 

Within the next five seconds, three truths became very evident: One; Chris was asleep. Two; Nick was asleep. And three; you were not. 

Someone else realized this as well, and his sharp icy glare penetrated your skull like an ice pick through the reflection of his rearview mirror. This didn’t go unnoticed by you, it never did, but it was easier to pretend like it did. As you took out your airpods and tentatively placed them back into their case, you shifted in your seat, the squeaking of the leather just barely being drowned out by the music still playing in the car. The song that softly drifted through the speakers was different from what had been playing earlier; smoother, languid, sultry. The lyrics were alluring and sensual, covered by an addictive instrumental that complimented the underlying provocative tone perfectly. It was sexy, it was passionate…

And it made no appearance on any of Chris’s playlists. 

You shifted in your seat again, a sharp inhale coming from the front of the car as the leather squeaked again. “I’ll start unloading the back,” you spoke up, your voice faltering towards the end. He responded with silence, his gaze shifting away from the mirror to stare out of the windshield instead. 

Gravel crunched beneath the soles of your shoes as you stepped out of the van. You took a deep breath as you escaped the tense atmosphere in the car, not realizing you had been holding your breath until now. The air was crisp, underlying earthy and musty tones accompanying the clean, fresh breeze that swept over your shoulder. The faint smell of rain began to grow heavy in the air, the dark clouds overhead drawing in. Treading to the back of the car, you opened the trunk and began unloading the bags that were messily stacked on top of each other. 

Chris and Nick emerged from the passenger side of the car, both of them trudging over to collect their things. It was clear they hadn’t woken up willingly. Nick’s cowlick stuck out like a sore thumb, his eyelids heavy with sleep. Chris yawned obnoxiously, earning himself an irritated glare from his brother. You laughed softly at the sight, handing them their respective bags. Like a bat out of hell, Matt came around to the back of the car and tugged his luggage out from the trunk, his elbow knocking into your arm in the process. He didn’t pay you a second glance as he slammed the trunk shut, his footsteps heavy and dragging as he walked down the gravel driveway. 

Nick rolled his eyes. “Great. We just love grumpy Matt,” he huffed, his tone laced with sarcasm. You offer an apologetic smile, feeling somewhat responsible for Matt’s attitude. It was nothing new, this was his behavior any time you happened to be around, but you knew his brothers must have been getting tired of the same old practices coming from him. 

As you followed the other two, Chris slowed his strides to walk with you. Carrying his luggage in his right hand, he hooked his left arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “Hey, you know I can see what you’re thinkin’, right?” He starts, his hand giving your shoulder a soft squeeze. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I feel like I did…” you sighed, not looking up at him. Nick was oblivious to the interaction, his spatial awareness being almost entirely eradicated when he was half asleep. It didn’t take long for him to disappear from view into the house. 

Chris shrugged. “Well, what did you do then?” he questioned. This time you did look up at him, brow furrowed and a glint of confusion in your eyes. 

“I-I don’t know what I did…”

“Then it’s not you,” Chris smiled. “All him. Don’t pay him any attention. I don’t know what’s got his fucking nuts in a knot, but he’s gonna have to get over it,” he continued. Chris took your bag from your hands as you approached the front porch steps, carrying it up to the door for you. “We’re gonna have fun this weekend, even with Miserable Matt here. Don’t let him get to you.” 

Chris handed your bag back to you, his all too familiar boyish grin making an appearance on his face. It was hard not to return the favor, smiling back at him as you slung the strap of the bag over your shoulder. Chris reached out, his fingers brushing the underside of your chin. “Head up, kid,” he tells you. The loud rumble overhead makes both of you flinch, mirroring each other as you and him look up to the sky. Charcoal clouds flood the open sky, blocking out the vivid shades of orange and pink that would have painted the heavens in their beautiful hues. Chris blindly reached out, opening the door to his family’s vacation home. “C’mon,” he mumbled, beckoning you inside. 

You didn’t move for a second. Getting struck by lightning was almost more appealing than being trapped in a house with Matt for an entire weekend. 

Almost.

You step through the doorway and let the strap of your bag slip off of your shoulder, the bag landing on the floor with a soft thud. The door shut behind you as Chris came inside as well, the deadbolt lock clicking into place. Muffled arguing could be heard from upstairs, followed by the loud slam of a door. ‘We’re gonna have fun this weekend.’ His words taunted you. 

“Not likely,” you huffed.

X O X O X O 

What started as a movie night (an attempt to relax and unwind after your long, tiring road trip), quickly began to progress into a memorable night, just not for the better. You should have known to dismiss yourself when Nick suggested watching a romantic comedy, earning an annoyed grunt from his brother who was sulking at the far end of the sectional. His feet kicked up onto the coffee table as he reclined deep into the cushions on the couch. His blatant disregard and disrespect for his parents’ beautiful (and expensive) furniture made you scoff. 

He shot you a hostile glare, testing you to say what you had been thinking; His electric blue irises, like icicles piercing your skin. Thoughts swirled around in your head as you avoided his gaze, looking straight ahead at the television as Nick flicked through page after page of options, stopping occasionally to read the summary of something that caught his eye. The silence was deafening, you were sure they could all hear you swallowing the lump that had been lodged in your throat. You felt a chill run through you; Even with Chris sitting so close you couldn’t help but feel cold. Frozen. 

“Or we could watch something that won’t bore us all to tears,” Chris suggested, his arm hooking over the back of the sofa. In a spur of passive aggressive frustration, Nick hurled the remote at his brother. The impact was intense enough to draw a groan out of him, and he scowled at Nick as he picked the remote controller up. “I hope the bed bugs DO bite, tonight,” he grunted. 

Nobody even cared about what was put on anymore, just as long as it would break the uncomfortable tension that surrounded them. Finally deciding on a horror movie, Matt switched off the lamp that was next to the couch, the only light in the room coming from the television. Muffled thunder could be heard from outside, and occasionally a white flash of lightning would light up the sky with deep purple shadows. The rain had started a while ago, though it was much more noticeable now as it created a steady rhythm on the roof. The aged wooden boards of the house moaned and creaked with the howling of the wind. Chris turned the volume up on the television to drown out the outside noises. 

Nick was the first to leave. Halfway through the movie, he got up from his spot and shuffled out of the room without a word. Nick wasn’t very chatty when he was tired, usually just communicating through soft grunts and hums, but he was too exhausted to even do that. The floorboards on the stairs groaned with each step he took, though it was only really noticeable if you had been paying attention. 

And you had been paying attention. 

Chris looked down, seeing that your focus wasn’t on the movie playing in front of you, but instead you were staring off towards the staircase that was hidden in the dark shadows of the entryway. He nudged you softly with his arm to break your focus. “He’s just tired. ‘S okay,” he assures you. 

“He seems mad,” you pointed out. 

“He’s not mad. He’s been up since seven this morning, and we all know he’s not a morning person.”

Matt shifted in his spot, inhaling sharply and exhaling just as obnoxiously. Your gaze shifted from Chris to his irritated brother. He didn’t even have to look at you, you could tell exactly how he felt. His posture was as terrible as always, but he was tense, the outline of his shoulder blades evident through his t-shirt. His jaw clenched, emotionless eyes glaring at the television. Arms crossed over his chest, the veins in his arms standing out as his biceps flexed. It didn’t take a body language expert to tell that he was angry, or at the very least annoyed. 

You went quiet as you turned your attention back to the television. You hoped that Chris hadn’t noticed your change in demeanor. The last thing you wanted was to ruin this weekend just by being present; by doing something to make it all about you. Arguing and fighting with Matt would make it about you. Talking to Chris or Nick about it would make it about you. Showing any emotional response to it would make it about you. The easiest thing to do in this situation was stay reserved. 

But Chris was much too conscious of you and your feelings, he always had been. That was one thing you loved so much about him; he was just as in tune with your emotions as he was with his own. However, when he turned his head to glare in his brother’s direction, you wished, for once, that he hadn’t been. “What, Matt.” His voice was gruff and demanding, not even a hint of questioning in his voice. He had gotten sick of Matt’s nasty attitude approximately four and a half years ago, and he officially had enough. “What’s pissing you off this time.”

Matt spared his brother a glance, his eyes refusing to meet yours. “You know how you’re not supposed to talk in the movie theater?” Matt started, pursing his lips as he waited for his brother to reply. Chris rolled his eyes in response. “Same rule typically applies at home.” His tone was passive aggressive, and that was when he finally made eye contact with you. “It’s quite rude.”

“You’re one to talk,” Chris scoffed. 

“The fuck does that mean?” 

You tugged softly at the sleeve of Chris’s t-shirt, attempting to pull his attention away. “It’s fine-“

“No, it’s not fucking fine,” Chris interrupted. He paused the movie, tossing the remote controller in his brother’s direction. “I don’t know what weird ass Netflix Original Series you think you’re in, but this fucking attitude is insufferable,” Chris snapped. He stood up, grabbing his phone off of the coffee table, stuffing it into his pocket. “You give me a fucking headache.” 

“What are you fucking talking about? Netflix Original Series? What kind of comparison is that?” Matt scoffed. 

“A pretty fucking good one. You’ve got this weird ass angsty attitude and nobody can fucking stand it.”

Matt shifted in his spot, his confidence faltering. “Wh- I don’t-“

Chris shot his brother another glare. “Oh, but you actually do. And you act all big and tough until someone finally calls you out on your bullshit. You’ve been on this shit for six fucking years and I’ve fucking had it,” Chris grumbled. His demeanor changes quickly, the flame inside of him burning out. He rubbed his tired eyes as he walked away from the sofa, blindly making his way to the staircase. He grunted out a soft ‘m goin’ to bed’ before disappearing up the stairs, just as Nick had done earlier. 

The floorboards from upstairs could be heard with each step Chris took, muffled creaks and squeaks barely filling the uncomfortable silence in the room until they stopped all together. The dull drumming of the raindrops on the roof filled the uncomfortable silence that engulfed you and Matt as you sat there, refusing to look at each other. There was a soft crackle of television static, and the faint roar of the thunder outside, but nothing else. 

After a few minutes had passed (which had felt more like an hour) you finally decided to steal a glance. Between the light illuminating from the TV and the flash of lightning from outside, all of his features seemed to stand out more so than ever before. The deep shadows beneath his jaw, the light reflecting off of his perfect skin. He pursed his plump lips, almost as if he was about to say something. His earrings glimmered in the dark room, swinging as he turned his head. You felt your heart drop as his eyes locked with yours for the third time that evening. But for once, his gaze held nothing hostile or hateful. His gaze faltered, looking at the couch cushion beside you. He didn’t say anything. He seemed apologetic. Regretful. Remorseful; Something you weren’t sure he was capable of feeling. His fingers picked at the loose threads on the armrest of the sofa, his eyes darting back and forth between the cushions and you. 

You could have drowned in the tension; it flooded the room out of nowhere. It had never been like this before, but then again you had never been left alone with Matt before either. As the tension grew, so did the pit in your stomach. Is he going to snap? What is he thinking? Why hasn’t he said anything? Does he want me to apologize? Why is he acting like this? Why won’t he just get it over with and yell at me? As the thoughts began to consume your entire being, you found your chest constricting, the air catching in your throat with each breath you tried to take. 

“Are you-”

You stood up from the couch the second he spoke. “Yeah, I’m going,” you replied, gracelessly stepping around the coffee table. His brow furrowed as he followed you with his gaze. You paid little attention to it. You were much more focused on getting the fuck out of there. Before he could get another word out, you had already left the room. Making a beeline for your designated room down the hall, you closed the door behind you, finally taking a second to catch your breath. 

This was going to be a very long weekend. 

 X O X O X O

“Why can’t I drive the boat?”

“You can’t even drive a car, why the fuck would we let you drive the boat?” Nick scoffed, looking at his phone attentively. He had gotten comfortable in his seat, taking one of the captain's seats under the shade of the tritoon. His feet were kicked up, heels resting on the leather lounge seats along the inside of the boat. “You need a boating license.”

You had decided to sit on the lounge seats opposite to the ones Nick was using as a personal footrest, soaking up the rays of the sun as they beamed down from the heavens, spears of light penetrating the clouds above. 

Chris stepped onto the boat swiftly, putting down the cooler that he had carried all the way from the house. You weren’t sure why he didn’t wait to fill the cooler once you all had gotten onto the boat, but Chris insisted that he could carry it by himself. You also weren’t quite sure why he had decided to wear a hoodie in 95-degree weather, which surely wasn’t making the job any easier on him. He let out a soft breath as he placed the cooler by the driver’s console, popping it open and pulling an orange Fanta from where it had been buried in the ice. “...Like from SpongeBob?” Chris questioned in response to Nick’s previous comment. He cracked the soda open and brought it to his lips. 

“Or like legally?! You fucking moron?!” Nick retorted, a dumbfounded look finding a way onto his face, his gaze tearing away from his phone to look at you as if to say, ‘are you hearing this shit too?’. You smiled, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back a laugh. 

Chris narrowed his eyes, scowling at his brother. After he had finished taking a much-needed drink, Chris put the can in a random nearby cup holder. “No need to be rude.”

Nick shook his head in disbelief. “You’re unreal,” he muttered, looking at his phone once again. “If you get pulled over without one-”

“You can’t get pulled over on the water.”

Slowly, Nick turned his head toward you, the same dumbfounded look on his face. You couldn’t hold back your laughter, his reaction was unexpected, but hilarious at the same time. “Am I- Are you-” Nick started, gesturing toward you with his phone. Finally, he looked over at Chris again. “Are you a real fucking person? There is no fucking way you just said that with a straight face. Like, I’m genuinely shocked…No, you know what-” he cut himself off, opening his safari app. He made a quick google search before continuing his harangue. “I am stunned. I am astonished. I am dumbfounded, oh that’s a good one… I am aghast. I am appalled. I am flabbergasted-”

“Alright, man,” Matt interrupted him, stepping onto the boat with a few bags in his hands, all of them filled with snacks that the boys had stocked up on earlier that morning when they went on their grocery store run. “I think we got it.” 

He looked sickeningly good this morning. Nothing about what he was wearing was very out of the ordinary, for him at least. A simple white tank top, his renowned blue flannel pyjama pants, and his signature horse pendant: it was simple, it was effortless, it made you want to rip your hair out. You truly envied Matt’s ability to always look good, no matter the time of day or what he was wearing. It wasn’t fair how he could just roll out of bed and look like he had just walked out of a Calvin Klein photoshoot. Then again, nothing about how he looked was fair. His high cheekbones, his sharp jawline, perfectly clear skin; It was a shame he was such a dick.

Chris pouted, crossing his arms over his chest before slumping down into the seat next to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You tore your gaze away from Matt, looking back in Chris’s direction, giggling softly upon seeing the look on his face: defeated and sulking. Nick rolled his eyes at his brother’s childish behavior. He leaned over, pulling an ice-cold Dr.Pepper out of the cooler, cracking it open to take a sip. Chris uncrossed his arms so that he could mock his brother before slinging his arm behind your back, resting it on the railing of the boat. Chris used his free hand to lift his sunglasses, eyeing Matt who stepped off of the boat and back onto the dock. “You sure you don’t wanna come? The Rogers’ are blowing the tube up,” Chris commented, an attempt to persuade his brother into joining them. 

Matt scratched the back of his neck, meeting Chris’s gaze while completely avoiding yours. “In a bit. I haven’t been able to focus a lot back home and I wanted to try to work on Yesterday’s Problem stuff while we’re out here,” he explained, his arm dropping back to his side. “I’ll call you in a bit when I’m done, I just…” Matt trailed off, looking back toward the cabin. “I dunno, I feel inspired, I guess. Motivated.”

“Good,” Nick said simply, placing his beverage in the cupholder in his seat. “It only took you ten months.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “I’m well aware how long it’s been taking,” he grunted. For a moment, his eyes flickered toward you, though you had stopped looking at him a while ago. He shoved his hands into his pockets, jaw clenching as he forced himself to look away.

“Alright. Just call me when you’re ready, we’ll come back around and get you,” Chris shrugged, not caring either way. Matt mumbled something under his breath before turning and heading back towards the house. Chris rolled his eyes as he picked his drink up, taking another sip from it. “Fucker. Probably still mad about last night,” he huffed, pulling you in closer to his side. “Whatever, we’re still gonna have fun, right?” 

For some reason, you felt a weird tightening in your stomach as you watched Matt trudge back towards the house, the sounds of his footsteps growing fainter as he stepped off of the dock. You weren’t sure why you felt this way, almost disappointed that he wasn’t coming too. It was a strange feeling, because you knew deep down that even if he had come, he wouldn’t spare a glance or even a breath in your direction. There was no logical explanation for it, there was no reason why you should want him there, but you did. 

Maybe a part of you hoped that you could sort out your differences. That maybe one conversation alone was all you would need to build a healthy foundation for your friendship. But you didn’t need a time machine to know that would never happen. Having a one-on-one heart to heart with the man that refused to speak to you or look at you…Disney couldn’t find a way to romanticize that one even if they tried. 

“Hey.”

You looked up, his voice dragging you from your thoughts. Chris smiled as your gaze met his, holding out his fist. “Forget him. We’ll have fun without him.” You offered Chris a sheepish smile, gently bumping your fist against his. 

“Whatever you say, Chris.”

X O X O X O

“You sure you wanna be in a house alone with Miserable Matt?”

The time had flown since that morning, hours passing in what felt like minutes. The boys’ neighbors were an absolute delight. You were afraid that they wouldn’t like you, or that they’d be standoffish towards you, but you were pleasantly surprised at how welcoming they had been. Nothing but kindness was directed your way, making it far easier to relax and enjoy your excursion out on the boat with everyone. But by the time you had gone on your third tube ride with Chris, you finally started to feel the fatigue kicking in. 

“I don’t plan on interacting with him,” you laughed lightheartedly, looking over at Chris as you stepped off of the boat and onto the dock. “But I am in desperate need of a shower and a nap.”

Chris pouted, resting his chin on his arms that were folded over the edge of the lounge seats. “You sure you don’t wanna hang out just a little longer?”

“You’ll see me in a little bit. Spend some time with Nick,” you suggested, watching as the two boys turned their heads to make eye contact. Nick grimaced, shaking his head at the thought. You let out another quiet laugh at their typical brotherly behavior. “I’ll see you guys when you get back,” you stated, waving your hand dismissively as you started the walk down the dock. They called out their farewells as their neighbor expertly maneuvered the boat back out onto the lake. 

Getting into the house was easy; Matt didn’t bother to lock the door behind him when he stayed back. As you quietly slipped into the kitchen, you heard the faint music that was playing just down the hallway. ‘As long as I stay quiet, he won’t even know I’m here.’ With that thought fresh in mind, you paid extra mind to close the door behind you with attentiveness, a dull click floating in the air for a moment as the latch slipped into place. Once a few seconds had passed, you made your way through the kitchen, shifting your weight with each step you took to keep your footsteps silent. 

Making your way upstairs was tricky, but once you had made it to your room without drawing his attention, a wave of relief washed over you. You closed the door gently before letting out a deep exhale, taking a few steps into the room before collapsing back onto the bed. You weren’t sure why you were so afraid of your presence disrupting whatever it was that he was doing. Sure, he was an asshole, but he had never done anything to strike that much fear into your heart. Still, the adrenaline rush of not getting caught was like a drug, your heart pounded, you could feel it in your ears as the blood rushed to your head. Nothing you had done was wrong, but it almost felt like it as Matt unknowingly sat in his room just below. 

It only took a few minutes for you to undress, your body wrapped in a bathroom towel as you went around your room to collect the things you would need for your shower. Your heart dropped into your stomach as your toiletries bag slipped out of your hand, landing on the floor with a loud thud. The products that had been securely tucked inside, now scattered around the room. “Motherfucker- Shit!” you hissed under your breath as you got down to clean them up, stuffing them back into the toiletry bag in your hand. A gleam caught your eye, your head turning to see that some of the products had rolled underneath the bed as well. 

‘Now this is just the opening scene of a poorly directed porno,’ you thought to yourself, huffing in annoyance as you bent down, slipping your head and neck under the bed. You used your hands to push yourself forward, your shoulders and back now able to slip under as well. Upon moving further under the bed, it became increasingly obvious that the bottle was too far out of reach, but still you made an attempt. The floorboards creaked and groaned as you shifted your weight, trying your hardest to reach out and grab the mini shampoo bottle. You closed your eyes tightly, the noises almost sounding louder than they normally would. 

You prayed that the music had drowned the sound out, that Matt hadn’t heard the numerous bottles rolling around or the sound of the old wooden floors that gave away any movement that was made in their presence. You especially hoped he hadn’t heard the sound of your head bumping against the wooden bedframe as you tried to slip back out, abruptly stopping when the towel caught onto a nail in the wood, preventing you from moving. 

But of course, your luck had seemed to run out. You felt your heart racing in your chest, your voice getting lodged in your throat at the sound of his footsteps slowly coming up the stairs. You tried again to free yourself, but to no avail. You were screwed, he had caught you. You knew you’d be getting an earful from him once that door opened, but he took his time, his footsteps remaining slow and heavy as he made his way down the hallway. Your eyes screwed shut as the door to the bedroom creaked open slowly. It was quickly followed by silence, but not a regular silence. A thick silence. A silence that made your heart ram against your ribcage. A silence that made you feel like you were about to be torn apart, limb by limb.

“There’s no fucking way-” his voice was hoarse, like he had just seen a ghost. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

X O X O X O

Matt stared at the screen, a yawn slipping past his lips, eyelids heavy with boredom. He had made very little progress on his personal project, though that was no surprise to him. How was he supposed to focus on anything after this morning? Seeing you prancing around in that tiny bikini, leaving so little to the imagination. He tried to push the thoughts out of his head, he always tried but very rarely did he succeed. The image burned into his brain, your skin glowing from the sunscreen you had put on just a few moments prior, your head tilted back as you basked in the warmth of the sunshine. 

He huffed, closing his eyes as he tried to avoid the thought all together. He groaned, his dick stiffening in his pants. His hand slipped over the bulge in his pants, his jaw going slack as he palmed himself slowly. His brow furrowed, eyes staying closed as he thought about how pretty you had looked laid out on those leather seats; Your collarbones taunting him, the valley between your breasts practically yearning for his dick to slide between them. Matt’s fingers wrapped around the outline of his cock, stroking himself through the thin fabric of his pyjama pants. Another soft groan fell from his lips as his imagination plagued him with filthy thoughts. 

‘It’s fine, nobody’s home. Nobody will know.’

Matt shoved his laptop to the empty side of the bed. He situated himself, slightly lifting his hips to pull his pyjama pants down just enough for his cock to slip out. His eyes fluttered open for a moment as he wrapped his fist around his shaft, using his thumb to tease himself, gently rubbing at his tip. 

‘Nobody has to know.’

He let his eyes fall shut again, his head falling back against the headboard. Oh how he wished he could have made his brothers disappear. To suddenly snap his fingers and have you all to himself. To be the only two people on that boat, out in the middle of the lake, bending you over the console with his hand covering your mouth. Matt whimpered at the thought of you on display just for him. Your top discarded on the floor, ample breasts bouncing with each thrust of his hips as he held the fabric of your bathing suit bottom aside, having no patience to remove it. His forehead pressed to yours, heavy breaths fanning across his knuckles as he muffled your moans with his palm. “Other people are trying to relax on their vacation too, baby,” he would whisper to you, his cock driving into you deeper and deeper. “Can’t ruin that for them, now, can we? That’s not very fair, is it?” 

Matt inhaled sharply, his hand finding a steady pace. He pumped his cock, a ring of precum forming at the base of his fist as it slipped up and down his shaft with ease. It was no use, this was how it always ended: Matt would try with every ounce of self control to focus, to work, to do anything of substance, and each time he would be distracted by you. Even now, with you on a boat in the middle of the lake, he could only focus on you. Your presence taunted him, consistently reminding him that he had to behave himself. That his brothers were there, and that he couldn’t just lay you down on the couch, sprawled out and writhing beneath him while he buried himself between your thighs. 

His heart skipped a beat, his hand slowing to a stop at the base of his cock. Panting softly, Matt paused and looked towards the ceiling, the faint sound of plastic and glass rolling around suddenly grasping his attention. He waited, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, almost as if he was waiting for something else; Another noise to confirm his suspicions. 

When he heard the loud thud, he quickly tugged at his waistband, securing himself behind the confines of his pyjama bottoms. He scrambled out of bed, grabbing the nearest inanimate object on his way out of the room, which just so happened to be a random antique candle holder that his mother had bought specifically for their vacation home. She had a habit of decorating the cabin with numerous knick knacks and novelties, who knew they could potentially come in handy? 

Matt circled the corner, beginning his ascent up the staircase. He cursed under his breath as the floorboards squeaked, surely giving himself away to any potential intruder that had snuck into the house. His grip tightened around the antique, his knuckles turning white. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Matt chewed on his lip as he braced himself for the worst. He stepped forward, making his way down the hallway in slow strides. ‘Somebody snuck in, they’re in your room going through your things. Thank God you went out with Chris and Nick today, who knows what could have happened to you if you hadn’t.’ He stopped just outside of the bedroom door, his chest tightening with fearful anticipation. Matt took a sharp inhale before he grasped the doorknob, turning it and pushing the door open slowly. 

His brain short circuited as he stood in the doorway. “There’s no fucking way-” he croaked out, licking his lips like a man starved, his pupils dilating at the sight in front of him. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

There you were, in all your glory. His dick ached at the sight of you stuck halfway under your bed, your hips up and the hem of your towel just barely protecting your modesty. A soft whine from beneath the bedframe caught his attention. “I-I didn’t mean t-to get stuck,” you timidly spoke. Matt couldn’t do anything but watch, his jaw slack, the candle holder slipping from his fingers and clattering to the floor. “I just came back to shower, I wasn’t trying to bother you.”

There was just no way that this was an accident. Something had heard his prayers and delivered in the most pleasantly delectable way possible. He blinked a few times as he stood there, unsure if what he was seeing was just a figment of his incredibly active imagination. His jaw clenched as he stepped into the room, adjusting to the reality of the situation. “I can’t have a single fucking day,” Matt muttered, towering over you as he approached the bed, his cock throbbing as you pressed your thighs together tightly. “Not one single goddamn day without you being there.”

You whimpered softly at the sound of his footsteps drawing in closer, the heat rising to your cheeks as you became painfully aware of how exposed you were in this moment. The only thing shielding his wandering gaze was the thin fabric tightly wrapped around you. His voice was thick with something, of what you weren’t sure. He had never spoken to you like this before, and something about it made your head spin. “I’m sorry, I-I-I don’t know-”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he interrupted, swiftly dropping to his knees. Your heart jumped up into your throat as you felt him move down between your legs, his hands gentle as they caressed your calves. The unexpected touch sent a shiver down your spine. You gasped as he moved himself closer, his hips pressing against yours. Matt nearly came in his pants as he watched your own hips press back against his instinctively, a sight he thought he would never see. He watched with a lazy gaze, his jaw slack as your hips molded against his perfectly, like you were made just for him. One of his hands reached up, grasping at the comforter on the bed in a desperate attempt to maintain his composure. “You want me to help you get out, princess?” he taunted, his other hand moving to gently grasp your waist. 

You squirmed beneath his touch, unfamiliar with this side of him, though you weren’t complaining. His words made your head feel fuzzy, like tv static. Swallowing your nerves, you let another soft whine escape your throat. You knew it was wrong, allowing this to happen instead of fighting it after the way he had treated you for years. Still, you couldn’t ignore the ache between your legs as he touched you like you were made of glass, as if the slightest bit of force would shatter you. After years of getting the cold shoulder and nothing but passive aggressive comments, you had never expected that he would be so gentle. You whimpered at the sound of him chuckling, his fingers toying with the towel wrapped around you. “Oh no…you don’t want help getting out, do you?” he sighed, a smirk tugging at his lips as he moved his hips back, amused at the sight of your hips following, desperate to stay connected. “You like it, huh? Being at my mercy, stuck right here just for me,” he continued. “Like the universe wanted this. Wanted me to find you and ruin you,” he growled. His humiliating words made your face flush with a deep blush. “Come on, doll. You know I need to hear you,” he mumbled.

An embarrassed whine spilled from your lips. “Y-Yes, I-I like it.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear him inhale deeply at your confession. His hands slid gently over your lower back, his fingers digging into your hips. “Fuck, ‘s like you knew I was beatin’ my dick, thinkin’ ‘bout you in that tiny fuckin’ swimsuit,” Matt grunted softly. His words hit you like a semi-truck, completely blindsided by his suppressed feelings, but you had little time to process before he started again. “Fuck, you looked so fuckin’ pretty in that swimsuit, darlin’. Got my dick so fuckin’ hard just seeing your tits stuffed into that itty bitty top. Such a naughty fuckin’ girl, gettin’ me all riled up in front of my brothers.” 

His words were filthy, his tone dark and hungry with lust. His eyes flickered down, the blood rushing right to his cock as he watched your thighs press together tightly. His firm hands slid over the curve of your ass, the towel still hiding your body from him. A voice in the back of his head screamed for him to tear it away from you, to leave you completely bare and at his mercy. Despite the burning desire inside of him, craving to feel you and see you at your most vulnerable, he knew he was already riding a very fair line. The last thing he wanted at this moment was to overstep the boundaries he was already inching closer and closer to. “What‘re you tryin’ to hide there?” he cooed devilishly, testing the waters as he slowly slipped his hand beneath your towel, his fingers softly grazing your inner thigh. “You don’t gotta hide from me, little one.”

He didn’t move further than that, his thumb rubbing circles into your inner thigh. Your knees wobbled, the tightness in your clenched thighs growing weaker and weaker. He could feel the trembling in your legs, and yet he didn’t react. It made you feel dizzy how your desperate state seemed to have no effect on him. You whined, your eyes glossing over with frustrated tears as you ached for him, your arousal slipping down your thighs. 

He watched intently, a primal desire burning deep within him. He knew what he wanted, and he was more than ready to take it, but he needed to know that you wanted it too. He needed to know that it was mutual, that he wasn’t crazy for thinking that you could crave him in the same way he had craved you all of these years. He had to know that you desired him, that you wanted him, that you needed him. You had to need him. You had to crave him. 

His mouth went dry as you arched your back ever so slightly, your hips pressing back against nothing as you made a blind attempt to feel him. A defeated mewl from you made his heart swell, his cock straining against the fabric of his pyjama pants, begging to be set free from its cotton confinements. His lips parted, letting out a shaky exhale. He was ready to stop, afraid that he was pushing you too far, though that line had been crossed the moment he knelt down between your thighs. ‘She’s helpless, I’m taking advantage of her, what was I fucking thinking?’ Just as he started to retract his hand, he heard the soft, pleading whine that was trapped from beneath the bed frame. It was unintelligible what you had said, and yet it still managed to make his body flood with warmth. He stilled his movements entirely, unsure if he had heard you correctly. Was his mind playing tricks on him? He couldn’t have made that up…

“Say that again for me, baby. I didn’t quite catch that,” he instructed. 

You couldn’t deny it any longer. The desire was too overwhelming to push aside. “M-More, f-fuck please…m-more.” 

Silence followed, making you uneasy with anticipation. His hand remained between your thighs, but you ached to feel more of him. “You know, I was supposed to be working.” Your body trembled as his fingers inched further up your thigh. “How am I supposed to get anything done with you around, hm? How am I supposed to focus? You weren’t even in the house and I still couldn’t think about anything but you,” he growled lowly. His fingers grasped the hem of the towel and he pushed it up past your thighs, his eyes darkening as he finally caught a glimpse of what he had longed to see for so long. Matt leaned down; he needed to get a better look. He needed the image to be burned into his brain. He needed to see it when he closed his eyes. His hands grasped the back of your thighs, spreading them with a gentle firmness; he didn’t want to hurt you or push you further than you wanted, but like an animal stalking its prey, he wanted to take his time. Matt didn’t want to scare you off, he didn’t want you to run away. He wanted to feel you surrender to him, letting him tear you apart, letting him devour you until you were nothing. “You’re a sight, darlin’. Prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen,” he mumbled, his voice thick with desire as he watched your desire drool from your folds. “Beg me.”

Your body tensed at his demand, your stomach twisting into knots. He was teasing you and it was making your brain melt. “M-Matt, p-please,” you mewled weakly. 

“Please what?”

“M-More-” you choked out.

“Come on now, you can do better than that, little bunny.” The nickname was unexpected, but the whine that it drew from you was enough encouragement for him to continue. He chuckled as your thighs filled his palms, your hips desperately pressing back once again, eager to feel anything more from him. Matt licked his lips, the creamy desire between your legs begging for him to have a taste, your pussy tempting him like a ripened peach on a warm summer afternoon, teeth penetrating the ample fruit, sweet juices slipping down his chin carelessly.   “Go on, baby, try again,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning over your heat. 

It was like he had flipped a switch in your brain, and he hadn’t even done anything yet. Your body reacted to every touch, his cold fingertips contrasting with the heat that surfaced your skin. Your lips parted to speak, desperate to tell him exactly how you needed him, everything that you craved from him; But nothing came out. You squirmed around in a pathetic attempt to free yourself just enough to close the space between you. “Oh, my dumb little bunny. Trying to run away already?” He teased, moving one of his hands up your thigh, thumbing slowly at your folds. “Before I’ve even gotten to taste you?”

Your knees felt weak as his thumb circled your clit, his strokes gut-wrenchingly slow. “Nowhere for you to run, bunny. You’re all mine.” It amused him, the way you attempted to grind your hips to feel just a little more friction from him. “You’re not goin’ anywhere until I’m done with this pretty little pussy.” 

“Y-Yours,” you squeaked out. You wanted to say so much more, but that was enough for him. A satisfied smirk curled at his lips. He had you exactly where he wanted you. Years of him dreaming and fantasizing of having you all to himself, thinking that would be the furthest he would ever get with you…years spent daydreaming and envisioning every possible scenario with you...it had all paid off. This wasn’t a dream; this wasn’t his imagination. You were here with him. You were exposed for him, begging for him, giving yourself to him. 

“You learn fast, don’t you? That’s my girl. Maybe you’re not so dumb after all,” Matt mumbled, burying himself between your plush thighs. His thumb slipped away from your clit and down between your slick folds, a chuckle eliciting from the back of his throat. He loved the sounds you made in response to his touch, and he never wanted it to end. If he could tie you down and lay with you, toying with you all day long just to hear your beautiful cries and prayers, he would do it in a heartbeat. He groaned softly, your arousal coating his fingers as he slipped them between your folds, spreading them apart. “God I can’t wait to watch you fall apart on my cock.” 

In an instant, he closed the space between you, his tongue tentatively swiping over your dripping folds. You let out a soft cry at the contact, resting your cheek against the cool wooden floor. Pride rushed through him at the rewarding sound. He hummed at the taste of you on his tongue, a sweetness had never indulged in before now drowning his taste buds. A growl grew at the back of his throat as your hips pressed back pathetically and he tightened his grasp on the back of your thighs, holding you in place. “I didn’t say you could do that.”

You dug your nails into the crevices in the wood floor, biting down on your bottom lip to contain your desperate pleas for more. You had never felt more sexually frustrated in your life. Sure you had sex in the past, but it had always been lousy and sloppy. 

It had also always been planned. Expected. Predictable. And this was anything but. 

“I can play nice with you, little bunny,” he taunted, his tongue tracing your creamy folds with patience. He planted a gentle kiss to your clit, his pride only increasing at the sound of your breath catching in your throat. “And I want to play nice with you. Make you feel good,” he continued, his breath hot against your heat. “But if you’re not gonna behave, I’m gonna have to play dirty,” he smirked, flicking his tongue over your clit, just barely enough to stimulate you. You choked out a whine and clawed at the floor as you tried your hardest to contain your desires. Using every last ounce of your self control to not grind your hips back, to not fuck yourself on his tongue. “You don’t want me to play dirty, baby. I’ll keep you here all night, just like this. For hours and hours and hours,” he continued to taunt, his tone raspy but controlled as he continued to speak slowly. He let his fingers replace his tongue for a moment, spreading your folds to admire the way your arousal drooled from your entrance. “I’ll keep you here and use this pretty pussy until I can’t fill it any more. Even when you’re so full, and my cum is oozing outta you-“ he paused, painting the visual out in his head. He didn’t think it was possible for his dick to get harder than it already was, but the image of you, defeated and squirming, knees wobbling, barely able to hold yourself up as his cum spilled out of you; It was all more than enough to make his cock stiffen even more. “I’ll keep you here just to watch you. There’s no escaping from me, little one. Now, are you going to behave?” 

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his finger slipping through your drenched folds, circling your entrance slowly. “Y-Yes,” you breathed out. “I’ll be good, I’ll behave-“

That was all it took for him to plunge his finger into your dripping heat. Surprisingly, he was the one to let out a groan. “So fuckin’ tight. Fuck, I knew you’d be tight-“ he grunted. In a slow motion, he retracted his digit from your entrance, watching with a predatory glare in his eyes as the light reflected from the arousal that coated his finger. A string of your wetness was all that connected his finger with your pussy, even as he brought his finger to his lips, licking it clean. “You ever been touched like this before?”

“Y-Yes,” you choked out. It wasn’t a lie, you had been touched like this before, but never in the same way he was doing it. The men you had been with were careless, rough, impatient, needy. Matt was the opposite. Despite knowing his brothers could come back from their relaxing day out on the lake at any moment, he was patient. He was slow, attentive to every sound and movement you made. He was gentle, his focus solely on making sure you were enjoying it, especially under the circumstances you were in. 

Well, at least until he heard you say that. 

“Really?” He tested. “Enlighten me, baby. Who else made you feel this good?” 

You swallowed. Suddenly you felt nervous...shy...embarrassed. Nobody had ever made you feel this good before, not even close. But the last thing you wanted to do was feed his ego even more than it already was. He spent the last six years making you feel like shit, and now here he was between your legs, his fingers tracing softly over your clit again in gut-wrenchingly slow circles. You didn’t even need to see him to know he had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face right now, knowing that you were trapped, helpless, and enjoying it. “F-Fuck you,” you growled under your breath, biting at your lip as his fingers slipped between your slick folds again. 

“Yeah? You might if you watch that pretty mouth of yours.” He watched intently as his fingers disappeared inside of you. “I asked you a question. Who else made you feel this good?” He asked again, his voice deep and demanding, a hint of a threat in his tone. You squirmed around, jaw going slack as his fingers sunk deeper into you. His free hand came down harshly onto your ass, eliciting a soft squeak from you in surprise. “One more chance, baby.”

“N-No one,” you huffed in defeat, though your tone changed almost instantly as he started pumping his fingers at a steady pace. “Just you.”

“So smart,” Matt praised. “Say my name this time, sweet girl. Who makes you feel this good?” Sweat glistened on his brow. His lips pursed, a breath of cold air over your sensitive bud making your thighs clench together. The sight pulled an amused sound from deep in his chest. “Try again.” He leaned in again, flicking his tongue over your clit in slow, controlled strokes. 

“F-Fuck, please Matt! Y-You, Matt! Only you! Please just-” you blabbered, frustrated tears glistening in your eyes. “Do something! P-Please! Do anything!” You pleaded.

“...Anything?” He smirked, kissing your soaked heat. “Any ideas in mind, little one?” 

Matt pulled down the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, allowing his painfully erect cock to spring free. His free hand quickly wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking his shaft a few times as he watched his fingers plunge deep inside of your pussy. He licked his lips, still tasting you on this tongue. “Words, little bunny. Use your words,” he rasped. Matt almost wanted you to kick him, to knock him out of this fantasy, because there was no possible way that this was real life. He had spent years dreaming of you beneath him, years full of yearning desires, years of hormonal frustration. And now here you are. All for him. 

Still kneeled between your legs, Matt straightened himself up, his fingers slipping out of your cunt and leaving you feeling empty and desperate. He brought his hand down roughly onto your ass, a sharp smack ringing in the air from the contact. “Naughty little thing. Oh you’re gonna fit around my dick so nice, baby.” Matt held his cock sturdy in his grasp, rubbing his tip over your slick folds. “This what you wanted, baby?” he cooed, his free hand resting on your waist. 

The only thing you could get out was a pathetic whine. You wanted him, that was no secret, especially now. You had no way of hiding your arousal towards him, the excitement you felt as he slapped the tip of his cock against your sticky entrance. What you would’ve given to free yourself from under the bed so that you could roll over and watch him; Watching his dick glide between your dripping heat with ease, watching his face scrunch up as he thrusts into you for the first time. You lifted your head off of the cool wooden floor, wincing as you accidentally bump it against one of the planks above you. 

Matt chuckled softly. “Easy, little one. Y’know ‘m not gonna hurt you,” he hummed. He slapped his tip against your entrance again, groaning under his breath. “Come on now, princess. Need you to tell me what you want.” 

He patiently waited for a response from you. He honestly didn’t mind, he quite enjoyed teasing you for as long as he could. Matt caught his bottom lip between his teeth as the tip of his cock leaked with precum. He thrusted his hips slowly, his shaft gliding against your heat, your arousal combining with his. “M-Matt,” You whimpered, nails clawing at the floorboards once again. Your voice cracked, catching his attention almost immediately. “Please just…f-fuck me.” 

With those words, you opened the gates of heaven for him. Allowing him to have access to you, giving him the greenlight to take you right then and there. He surely didn’t need you to tell him again, though he loved the way it sounded rolling off of your tongue. Matt gave his cock a few quick strokes before positioning his tip at your gleaming entrance. His other hand remained glued to your waist, keeping you both steady as he eased himself inside of you. 

Your lips parted at the delicious feeling of his cock stretching you out. You could hear him hiss in response to your walls clenching around his shaft, but you had very little time to feel smug. Matt lost every single care in the world that he had, moaning loudly as he bottomed out. He didn’t move for a couple moments. You could feel his hands roaming over the plush of your ass and thighs, but his cock stilled inside of you. 

Matt’s eyes fluttered closed. He didn’t dare move a muscle. He had never been so intoxicated by a girl’s pussy in his life. The way you squeezed around him…Hell, if he sat here long enough he could cum just from that alone. It was an addictive feeling, he wanted more even if it killed him. He never wanted it to be over. “Atta girl, look at you taking my dick so well,” Matt grunted, letting his hips finally move, his dick slowly retracting from inside of you. 

You couldn’t bear it any longer, you needed him. He couldn’t leave you hanging again. Your hips followed his, sinking back down onto his cock. Matt watched in awe, his jaw going slack as you did just that. His mind went fuzzy as he watched your hips rock back and forth, working yourself on his cock desperately, coating his shaft in your creamy arousal. “That’s it, baby. Been such a good little thing for me, haven’t you?” His voice was thick with lust. He snapped out of his trance and used his hands to help guide your hips, another whorish groan escaping him. 

You whined in response; It was all you could manage to get out. Your mind was cloudy as his dick filled you more than you had ever felt before. His strong hands groped at your ample ass, pushing you back down onto his cock, his balls snug against your heat. He groaned again, though it was followed by a deep chuckle. “My sweet little bunny. I told you there was nowhere to run,” he smirked, holding your hips in place as his hips rocked backwards, his cock sliding out of you until only his tip remained buried in your heat. “I knew I could break that pretty little brain, princess. It’s not easy, huh? It’s so hard to think isn’t it?” Matt mumbled, his hips snapping forward to drive his dick back inside of you. It resulted in a cry falling from your lips, your pussy squeezing around him once more. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna do all that hard thinking for you. You just turn that pretty little head off, okay?” 

His hips snapped forward again, resulting in another moan slipping from your lips. The sound was like a drug to him, he wanted it injected into his veins. “Feels so good, baby. ‘S like your pussy was made just for me,'' Matt grunted, his hips moving back again. He listened to your pathetic sounds as he pulled out, his hand stroking his cock slowly. He rubbed his tip against your folds, watching as you sunk back down onto him, his tip easing back inside of you, followed by the rest of him. His eyebrows knitted together, a low groan escaping him. He brought his hand down, striking your ass again, leaving a sharp smacking sound ringing in the air. “Impatient little brat,” he hummed, giving the other cheek the same attention. Your fingernails tore at the wooden floor, your body flinching at the impact from his hand. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop moving your hips, loving the way he stretched you full with each stroke. 

Matt loved it, watching the way you fucked yourself on his dick; He didn’t even have to move. Amused by your desperation, he cocked his head a little and continued to watch your little performance. Your milky arousal now coating his shaft, his abdomen slick with your juices as you wiggle your hips each time you sink back onto him, desperate to feel more. He groaned as your walls clenched, his dick twitching at the delicious feeling. “Pretty little thing, fuckin’ yourself on my cock…God, I jus’ wanna ruin you…Wanna fuck you so hard, you can’t walk…” His filthy thoughts, now verbally spilling from his mouth like a waterfall. “Wanna make you cum all over my cock, baby. Fuck, jus’ wanna make your pretty little pussy feel good. Only me, nobody else. Wanna put my babies right in your tummy,” he growled, his hand slipping down the side of your waist, his palm pressing against your abdomen. “Gonna put my babies right here. Fuck, I jus’ know you’d make the prettiest little angels. Nobody else's, just mine. All mine.”

He wasn’t sure what had come over him. He had never felt this burning urge in him the previous times he had sex. Something in him awakened, it made his stomach knot up. He panted softly, finally giving into his temptations as he started to thrust in time with your hips, hissing as his dick buried itself impossibly deeper inside of you. “You’d make such a good little mommy, wouldn’t you? So pretty, and soft, and nice…” Matt groaned, letting his hips find a steady pace. A ring of creamy white encircled the base of his shaft, trickling down to his balls with each thrust. The room echoed with the sticky sound of his cock slipping in and out of your tight walls. 

You could hardly process the things he was saying. Every word, dirtier than the last. It became increasingly harder to think, or to respond…all you could focus on was the euphoric feeling coursing through your veins. You gasped softly as his hand slipped down from your abdomen, his fingers rubbing your sensitive bud in quick circles. You squirmed at the feeling, knees beginning to wobble once again. “It’s what you were made for, right? My little bunny…you were made to have my babies,” he growled. He picked up his pace, his thrusts remaining relentless. A string of unintelligible vowels fell from your lips as he pounded into you. The contrast between his rough thrusts and his gentle fingers circling your clit was blissful. “Tell me what you want, princess.”

Your lips parted to speak, but you couldn’t find the words. All you could think about was how he felt inside of you, how he made you feel with his gentle touches and his filthy words. He chuckled, the sound making your thighs tremble. “Dumb little thing. Come on now, you know I can’t read your mind, baby…Not that there’s much goin’ on in there right now anyways.” 

A loud moan slips from you, your hand flying up to cover your mouth and muffle the sounds you were making. Matt’s eyes darkened, leaning over until his body was pressed to yours as close as he could possibly get. He reached his free hand under the bed, grasping at your arm. It didn’t take much effort for him to pin your arm behind your back. He kept his thrusts steady, burying his cock in you with each thrust. “Uh uh, I wanna hear every little sound you make. Every whimper and squeak that I fuck outta you,” he huffed. “Naughty fuckin’ brat, tryin’ to hide how bad you want your pussy to be used. I see right through you, little one.” His fingers rubbed at your clit faster, a smirk plastered on his face as you began to fall apart beneath him. 

“P-Please…c-c-cum-” you managed to sputter out. He licked his lips, his throat going dry. “C-Cumming-” you gasped, your hips spasming as he refused to slow his thrusts, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Warmth pooled in your tummy, your heart pounded against your chest, your teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your bottom lip. 

“Did I say you could?” Matt teased, stopping his fingers abruptly. With a gentle firmness, Matt slapped your clit a few times, rewarding him with the sound of your desperate cries and the feeling of you squeezing around him again. “You’ve been so fuckin’ naughty, I have half a mind to leave you like this,” he growled. “Gettin’ me bricked up every fuckin’ day, bending over in those little tennis skirts, your nipples pokin’ through your shirt, biting your lip- Fuck... every time you bite your lip I wanna grab you by your fuckin’ hair an’ bite it myself.” Matt could feel his own orgasm building up. Any girl he had been with could tell you that he would start to ramble the closer he got to his release, but never like this. “Had to throw out all the fuckin’ popsicles b’cause of you, suckin' on 'em right in front of me. D’you know how many times I had to go jerk off in my room b’cause of you? How many fuckin’ times you joined our party on the game, and I’d die just so I could mute myself and beat my dick to your pretty little fuckin’ sounds. Oh god, baby… Jesus fuck, you’re a fuckin’ minx. You don’t fuckin’ deserve to cum after the fuckin’ hell you put me through,” he growled. “But fuck…I wanna feel your little pussy tighten around my cock while you cum. F-Fuck, I want you to cum, baby.” His fingers collected the juices puddling at the base of his shaft before he reached his arm back around your torso, rubbing at your clit once again. 

“Mmmph, M-Matt,” you mewled out, your head resting against the wooden floor. “P-Please, s-so close-”

“Don’t think, baby. I know it feels good, I know you wanna cum,” Matt panted, picking up his pace as he began to thrust faster, grunting softly as his hips collided with yours. “You're gonna be a good girl and let me put a baby in your tummy, isn’t that right?” Matt whispered, his tone hoarse and gruff. He continued to circle his fingers at your sensitive clit. He knew you wouldn’t last much longer, what between your desperate pleas and your trembling thighs, it was obvious that you were close to your release. “That’s what little bunnies do best, hmm? Making pretty little babies?” He gave your ass a firm squeeze, thrusting his hips even faster. 

You squirmed again beneath him, moans spilling out of your mouth. His thrusts were rough, his hands groping and touching you possessively. You couldn’t help it anymore. Your head felt like it was spinning, your entire body flooding with warmth. “F-Fuck, I-I-I-” you stammered. He moved his hand back to your waist, holding you in place firmly. His fingers rubbed at your clit faster to bring you to your release. “C-Cumming, f-fuck Matt!” 

His fingers dug into your waist, your words only encouraging him to keep going, despite the ache he was feeling in his knees from them boring into the wooden floorboards. Matt rested his head against the edge of the mattress, the sweat forming on his brow seeping into the silk sheets on the bed. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me, cum all over my cock. Did so fuckin’ good for me,” Matt groaned, his hips bucking forward with the desperate need to bring them both to their release. “F-Fuck, please cum on my cock. Please, please, please…Need to feel you, n-need it so bad, baby.”

In an instant, your muscles began to tense, a hoarse cry erupting from you. Your legs wobbled and shook as your orgasm washed over you, finishing with him buried deep inside of you. Matt panted, rubbing your sensitive cunt with slow gentle strokes to ride you through your high. “Atta girl, that’s it. Oh fuck-” he groaned, pumping his cock in and out of you with quick, sloppy thrusts. “God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect. Cummin’ all over my dick, makin’ such a fuckin’ mess. F-Fuck...you’re drippin’ everywhere, baby. S-So fuckin’ messy-” he rambled, grunting with every rut of his hips. His fingers slipped away from your pussy, and he brought them to his lips, sucking your release off of his fingers. He moaned at the taste, bringing his other hand to your waist as well. “Just another minute, baby- f-fuck, ‘m so close. Doing so fuckin’ good. Squeezin’ my cock nice and tight- God you’re so fuckin’ perfect.” 

With your sweaty forehead pressed against the cold floor, you forced your hips to stay up, not letting your knees give out just yet. You weren’t about to look weak in front of him. You just hoped his thrusts wouldn’t get any rougher, because you were only one wrong thrust away from collapsing completely. 

It didn’t take long for Matt to reach his orgasm, his sloppy thrusts slowing almost to a complete stop. His stomach tightened as he bucked his hips forward roughly, groaning loudly and repeating the action. It only took a few rough quick thrusts before he pulled your hips back, forcing your bodies together as close as physically possible. Heavy breaths passed his lips, along with numerous deep moans. His cock throbbed, waves of pleasure hitting him like a tsunami as his cum pumped deep inside of you. The warmth of your pussy still snug around his shaft, along with his hot cum that was beginning to ooze from your entrance where he was still buried inside of you, it made him weak in the knees. An aftershock hit him like a jolt of electricity, his hips rutting forward. “S-So fuckin’ good,” he whimpered. 

He could’ve stayed like that forever; Buried inside of you, watching a mix of his seed and your own release leaking down his shaft. He could’ve gone again, there was no doubt in his mind. He slowly and reluctantly pulled out, his hand grasping the base of his cock. He stroked his shaft, watching with a possessive, predatory gaze as his sticky white cum oozed from your entrance, slipping through your folds and over your clit before dripping onto the floor, pooling between your knees. He wanted nothing more than to bury his dick back inside of you and fuck you until he drained every last drop of cum inside of you, until he was shooting blanks and had nothing left to give. But he knew that if his knees were killing him right now, you were probably in a much more uncomfortable state. He cursed softly under his breath, tucking his cock back into his pants. Matt looked over at the nightstand, grabbing a box of tissues and pulling a few of them from the box, gently wiping the mess from between your legs. He wasn’t worried about the mess on the floor, he would clean it up after. Right now, he had bigger priorities. 

He frowned a little as he saw your legs wobbling again. He took another handful of tissues, gently cleaning you up before tending to the puddle between your knees. Once all of his mess was taken care of, Matt tossed the box of tissues to the side, throwing the wad of used ones into the nearby trash bin. You squirmed, attempting to push yourself out from under the bed. You winced as you heard the sound of the towel ripping.

“Careful- hold on, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” Matt mumbled softly as he reached under the bed frame, unhooking your towel from the nail it had gotten caught on. He pulled the hem of the towel back down to cover your upper thighs, his touch lingering slightly. You breathed a sigh of relief. Lowering your body to the ground, you did your best to keep your breathing controlled and steady. Although you wanted to just lay there for a few moments, Matt had other plans. He used all of his strength to carefully lift the bed frame, just barely off of the ground. “Come on, let’s get you out of there,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. He shifted the weight of the bed frame into one hand, using his other to gently guide you out from where you had been stuck previously. 

You didn’t want to look at him. Your stomach twisted into knots as you re-lived what just happened. Matt could tell that something was wrong, that you were avoiding his gaze for a reason, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. His brow furrowed. “Is your head okay?”

You finally looked into his eyes, reading the sincerity in them. “What?” you scoffed. 

Matt frowned a little at your tone, but he recovered quickly. “Your head…you bumped it kinda hard when you were under there. I just wanted to know if it still hurt-“

“My head is fine.” 

“Oh…okay.”

Why is he still here? Does he need an invitation to leave? You looked at him once again, and suddenly a wave of guilt washed over you. What you had done with him was wrong. He was nothing but rude to you for years, and you willingly gave him access to you and your body. You could have cursed him out, you could have fought back or screamed at him to leave the room, you could’ve asked him to help you get out, but you didn’t. “Why, Matt?” you breathed out in a defeated tone. “Why?”

He looked at you with a confused look across his face. With a furrowed brow, Matt shook his head slightly. “Wh-What are you talking about? Why what?” He moved a little closer to you, reaching out to brush your hair out of your face.

You dodge his hand, scooting back. “You know what, Matt,” you bark back. “You’ve hated me since I first came around, you glare at me and say hurtful things. You ignore me when I’m around unless you can find a way to let everyone know just how much you hate me. You refuse to do things with your brothers if I’m involved at all-“ you stopped, feeling your voice getting caught in your throat. 

Matt’s eyes widened. “Woah, woah, woah! Hate? This is news to me,” he interrupted, shaking his head again in disbelief. “I’ve never hated you, where the hell did you pull that one from?”

“Are you serious?! You interrupt me, you’re passive aggressive, you refuse to look at me or interact with me in any other circumstances, you avoid me like I’m the fucking plague, you blame me for not being able to get work done-“

Matt stayed quiet. He reached out to lift your chin. When you tried to look away again, he gently cupped your face in his hands. “You really thought I hated you?” He asked with a heavy heart. As soon as you opened your eyes to look at him, he felt like he had just been shot in the chest. “I never hated you, pretty girl. Never ever,” he whispered soothingly, the pad of his thumb gently wiping away a tear as it rolled down the curve of your cheek. 

You blinked back your tears, disgusted with the idea of looking weak in front of him. “Then why were you like that? Why did you avoid me? Why would you act like that?” You demanded an answer, one that made sense, one that didn’t make you feel sick to your stomach anymore. 

“I-I…” he started, afraid to tell you the truth after keeping it buried for so long. But as he saw the way your eyes glazed over, the way your lip quivered and your body trembled, he knew he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the inevitable rejection. “I know how I acted was childish-“

“You think?!”

Matt sighed, though the tight feeling in his chest didn’t go away. “Just listen-“

“No, you listen. I’ve been nothing but nice to you, Matt. I’ve never made a nasty remark, I’ve never glared or scowled at you, I’ve never said anything bad about you. I’ve always greeted you, I’ve always been friendly-“

“And I can’t stand it-“ Matt interrupted you, moving his face closer to yours. He looked deep into your eyes, holding your face delicately in his palms. “I can’t stand how fucking nice you are and how perfect you are. I can’t stand how beautiful you look every goddamn day. I can’t stand it because I want it all for myself,” he admits, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m so fucking selfish, I want you all to myself. I don’t wanna fucking share with my brothers or our friends-“

“That’s such bullshit, Matt,” you scoffed. 

“I’m being for real,” he insisted, his eyes pleading for you to hear him out. “I thought if I…if I didn’t interact with you that maybe…it would all just go away. I thought…” he paused, instantly re-living every moment he had been a dick to you. The way your light would dim, the way your smile would fall and your eyes would lose their natural sparkle. The way you would go quiet and shrink back until you were overlooked, ignored, invisible. “I thought…how could a girl like you ever like someone like me…”

You stayed quiet. You weren’t really sure what to say in response to that. A moment of silence passed, and when you came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to say anything else, you took it as an opening to speak. “You expect me to believe that bullshit sob story?” You growl at him. 

Matt didn’t know how to convince you. He had spent the last six years making you feel like shit, all in an unsuccessful attempt to shield his heart. “I wish I could take it back,” he spoke softly, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek in slow smooth strokes. “I wish I could do it all over again. I-I just…I would see the way you were with Chris-” he stopped for a moment as images of you and his brother rushed through his mind like an avalanche. He looked down, avoiding your gaze all together. “I wanted it to be me…but it wasn’t. And I hated that it wasn’t.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Chris was right, you really do think you’re starring in some crazy ass Netflix Original.”

Your words stung, his eyes were full of desperation and pain, something you had never seen from him before. “You’re not listening to me,” he stated, his eyes glossing over with tears. “I’ve wanted to do that for years-”

“You’ve wanted to fuck me for years?” You scoff. “How endearing.”

“What- No! I-I mean yes, but-” He stammered, running his fingers through his messy hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I’ve wanted to be with you for years…It wasn’t just about sex, I’ve wanted you since the minute I saw you,” he continued, moving closer to you again. 

“You never said anything,” you whispered, positive that if you spoke any louder your voice would waiver. “How was I supposed to know any of this? How do I even know it’s true, Matt? How do I know you’re not just fucking with my head to get whatever the fuck you want?”

Matt leaned against the side of the bed, his eyes still refusing to meet yours. He was quiet for a long moment. He swallowed anxiously. “Brown corduroy pants and a green knit sweater.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“That’s what you were wearing the first time I saw you,” he said, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. “I remember thinking…’God, that sweater is so fucking ugly’,” Matt relayed, a soft chuckle following close after. “It was like you heard me say that in my head, because you looked over at me and I thought my heart stopped beating…” 

Your facial expression softened upon hearing the moment from his perspective. It was all so different from how you remembered it. 

“Chris! Get back here and help!”

You and Matt shared a panicked look at the muffled shouting coming from outside. You winced as you stood up, legs aching as you walked over to the window and looked out into the backyard. Your eyes landed on Chris, and your movement must have caught his eye as he looked up to your window, a smile growing on his face. “Hey! We’re gonna have a cookout tonight! Come outside!”

“Chris, quit yelling! We have neighbors!” Nick shouted. 

You turned around, your heart racing as your eyes locked with Matt’s again. He looked up at you, his lips parted slightly. “I’ll leave-” Matt whispered, grabbing the bedpost as he hoisted himself up, being sure not to be in view of the window. “You uh…” he trailed off, running his fingers through his messy hair. 

Your brow furrowed, looking at him in confusion. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Matt bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head in response. “You just…You look pretty,” Matt said, his eyes avoiding yours as he left the room in a hurry. The sound of his footsteps began to fade as he made his way down the hallway, the stairs creaking under his feet. You stared at the door, almost expecting him to come back, to say more, but he didn’t. 

You rushed to change into something comfortable. You decided on a pair of sweatpants and a simple tube top before you quickly made your way out to the backyard. As you stood at the back door, you saw Matt and Nick setting up some lawn chairs around the stone firepit, already bickering about something stupid, you were sure. Chris chucked a couple of logs into the firepit, spraying some lighter fluid into the pit before lighting a match and tossing it in. The contents in the pit lit up with flames almost instantly, a cheeky smile forming on Chris’s face as he opened the bottle of lighter fluid again. Nick shouted, snatching the bottle away from his brother immediately. You laughed softly, reading his lips as he shouted ‘are you fucking stupid?!’ at Chris. 

Matt laughed under his breath, looking over his shoulder for a moment. As his eyes locked with yours, you tensed up, your breath catching in your throat. You were pleasantly surprised when he smiled, a bashful redness burning in his cheeks. He looked away from you quickly, but you could still see the smile on his face. 

You stepped out onto the back porch, greeting the boys’ neighbors as they started the grill up. You shared a few moments of small talk with them before heading down the porch steps, shuffling over to the boys by the firepit. Chris smiled at you, pulling you into a bear hug. You laughed, hugging him back. Matt watched, his smile faltering a little as he looked down, focusing instead on tossing handfuls of pine needles into the fire, fueling the large flames as they engulfed the debris in the confines of the stone pit. 

Nick had noticed the strange behavior on Matt’s part, and he had been suspicious from the moment Matt happily emerged from the house, smiling and offering to help his brothers. But Nick’s suspicions only grew upon seeing you. He stood up, wiping the dirt from his hands onto his swim trunks. “Hey, feeling a little better?” Nick asked you. 

You smiled, nodding your head. “Yeah.”

“Shower pressure’s pretty nice for an older house,” Chris chuckled. 

“Yeah…It was nice, for sure,” you laughed as well, going along with Chris’s statement. 

Nick raised an eyebrow at you. “Really?”

“Mhm,” you nodded again. 

Nick started to walk towards the house, stopping as he stood beside you, leaning down so that his lips were only inches away from your ear. “Your hair is dry,” he stated before walking towards the porch steps.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: Oh my, what is going to happen in part 2?

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖘: @flowerxbunnie @megamett44-lover @xtravrgnoliveoil @mattsturnswife @sturniolofan4lifee @oversturn @soursturniolo @sturnioz @luverboychris @meerkatzthings @soupuurr @gemofthenight @sturnsforlife @hi-7-hi @blahbel668 @mattspleasure @sturnybabes @jjmaybankswifes-blog @sturniolosreads @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @matthemunch44 @nonamegirlxsturniolo @chrizz333 @sturniolopowers @mattsleftnipple03 @worldlxvlys @hearts4chriss @janiellasblog @creamoncreamoncream2 @meg-sturniolo @ellie-luvsfics @lustfulslxt @braindead4l @ghostlythinggoingaround @taekwite @querenciasturniolo @whicked-hazlatwhore @m4ttslvr @mqttittude @bewtyschooldropout @lovelybrokenheal @h3arts4harry @riowritesitall @freshloveforthefit @esioleren @colorthecosmos444 @mbbsgf @kitkatbar1275

[coquettepascal]

texas sweet

summary: joel is your friendly neighborhood dad of the year, so why is his driveway empty on father's day? better yet, why do you feel the need to make up for everyone elses absence?

tags: 18+, smut, handjob, desc of joel mastubrating, a "massage", neighbor!joel x f!reader, massages, general cheesiness, soft!joel, pathetic!joel, almost(?) sub!joel, reader gets blueballed (sorry), biting, joel whimpering, joel being a proud girl dad, no-outbreak, ellie and sarah exist, tommy is mentioned(!!), joel is a southern gentleman, mention of reader having parents, no desc of reader but she can fit between joel and the couch, dilf!joel (yum)

a/n: my first joel fic ever... i would like to thank every person who has written no-outbreak!joel or pre-outbreak!joel. i freaked it.

(4.9k, not beta read.)

Moving to Texas was not the plan, or even the “blessing” your mother claimed it would be. Being the one who took over your grandparents home after they moved to a seniors facility? Fantastic! Amazing, even. Leaving your job, friends, and boyfriend, back home? Horrible. Heart wrenching and annoying. 

Austin, for the most part, was lonely. Long distance didn’t end up working between you and your boyfriend, your friends just got busier with their jobs, and it wasn’t like your parents could just drive 14 hours to see you every weekend. Co-workers were nice, but honestly who really wants to hang out with people you already spend 40 hours a week with? Maybe you were jaded, or picky, which was what your mother also claimed, or maybe your whole life was uprooted for what felt like no reason.

What you weren’t picky about, was the view from your bedroom window. You’re not a peeping tom, or a perv, but it isn’t your fault that your dilf-y next door neighbor is so easy on the eyes.

No, moving to Austin was not a blessing, but Joel Miller was.

Joel was the neighborhood guy. Need an oil change? Joel. Need your fence fixed? Joel. Block party? Joel’s yard. It’s like he doesn’t know how to say no to anybody, that southern politeness deeper than the drawl that lies in his voice. When you had first moved here he had helped you move your couch through the door, all smiles and polite nods. He barely introduced himself before he was asking if you needed any help, and he had called you “young lady,” which made you giggle. Such a giving man, but of course he was. A single father to two daughters? “No” wasn't in his vocabulary.

Sometimes, you think if your dad was as good a father as Joel Miller was, maybe you wouldn’t be fiending after him with such ferocity. Watching him with his two girls, Sarah and Ellie, was something that tugged your heartstrings no matter what. Sarah wasn’t around a lot anymore, apparently she went away to a fancy college. You had helped her pack all her stuff into Joel’s truck, but quickly went inside when you saw him getting misty eyed, you didn't want to embarrass the poor guy. Ellie is younger than Sarah and still lives at home. Honestly, you didn’t know much about her apart from the fact that she was adopted and that she’s in high school. She’s always happy to chat, but she’s also always going somewhere, which leaves Joel lonely sometimes. 

Joel seems better suited for loneliness than you are though. His brother Tommy comes around pretty often, though they seem fairly opposite. Tommy truly is sweet, has always chatted with you during block parties (even if it may be for nefarious reasons when he’s had too many drinks,) but he looks like… a fuckboy. Without fail, every time he rolls up to Joel’s house, he’s blasting some shitty new country music and wearing Pit Viper sunglasses as he carefully parks his spotless truck. Despite their differences though, they get along just as well. Your summer evenings are often interrupted by the sound of their laughs and the crisp sound of the two cracking open some cold ones. 

So why is it that when Father’s day rolls around, Joel’s driveway is empty?

You aren’t watching on purpose, you just happen to glance over that way a lot. The only action you see from his house is Ellie leaving for her friend's house sometime after noon, like usual on a Sunday. No signs of Sarah or Tommy. Part of you figured that maybe Sarah would make the lengthy drive down from her school, or maybe that Tommy would show up at some point, but nobody does. 

‘Not creepy,’ you assure yourself as you go upstairs to peer through your bedroom window to see if anyone is there. You could totally look through the kitchen window that directly faces his backyard, but you fear the day he’s looking right back at you. 

Looking outside, you see nothing. Joel’s grey-blue truck sits unmoved in the driveway, his plants are watered though so you guess he came outside at some point. The thought makes you feel a bit sad, the image of Joel and his soft eyes watering the plants, whistling to himself and trying to tell himself it doesn’t matter that nobody came. He probably really doesn’t care at all, a lot of men aren’t very sentimental or emotional about days like this, but you care.

He’s a good man, a good father, and a good neighbor. Seeing him be underappreciated on what is basically his day is ticking you off for some stupid reason. When 3pm rolls around you decide that you have to do something for Joel, it feels wrong not to. 

Which is how you end up in line for the register at Home Depot. You sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes racking your brain, trying to think of things that guys like, but came up with nothing. Joel is a contractor, so he’ll probably find some use out of a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card, but it still feels too impersonal. Joel literally fixed your toilet when a date you took home broke the handle off the tank mid-vomit. He’s too nice to just hand a stupid gift card with “Happy Father’s day” scrawled across the mini paper envelope. He deserves something thoughtful, something gentler than a gift card for (probably) his job. 

…Which is how you end up waiting in line for the register at the supermarket. You have a bouquet of flowers in your hand, with a Home Depot gift card shoved in your jacket pocket. It feels utterly ridiculous to give Joel Miller flowers, to pick out which colours you think he’d like and get the florist to wrap them up neatly with a bow, but you have a good reason. At some point in the past week you had seen a post about how a lot of men never receive flowers. It resurfaced in your head as you picked your brain again, making you wonder if Joel had ever received flowers. You know that he was married once, but that was when Sarah was little, it’d probably been 10 or even 15 years since he had any gestures like that made for him.

Not that this was for romance reasons. It was for father’s-appreciation-day reasons. Of course.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so invested in your neighbors emotions and life, but it’s too late now. You carefully pack away the flowers in the back seat of your car, snuggling the gift card into the ribbon that holds the flowers together. 

—

And if you thought that standing in line at Home Depot, or at the supermarket was bad, it’s so much worse trying to work up the courage to knock on Joel’s front door. You can’t figure out how to hold this bouquet of flowers behind your back without dropping them, so you just awkwardly knock on his door with one hand, flowers in the other. At least the gift card is managing to stay in place where you tucked it, but you wish you told the florist not to write his name in cursive.

Your repeating thoughts of “Is this weird? Am I weird?” are interrupted when he opens the door.

Joel looks… normal. He doesn’t look sad like you thought he might, if anything he looks more confused at you being there. His brown hair is tousled slightly and he’s wearing pajama pants, even though he smells fresh. Joel’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head quietly, as if waiting for you to go on, but what do you even say? Oh shit that’s right–

“Happy father’s day,” your voice comes out shyly. You shove the flowers at him a little abruptly and he blinks in surprise, accepting them. It’s awkward for a second, the way his eyebrows shoot up as he notices the cursive lettering of his name written on the envelope.

“These’re for me, darlin’?” He asks curiously, still looking over the flowers.

A stammering of “um” and “yeah” leave your mouth pretty quickly and he smiles. You’re pretty sure he says thank you, but you just kind of stare at him awkwardly. A beat passes between the two of you as he admires the gift. “You uh– You don’t think of me as your dad, do you?” Joel asks. Oh fuck. You hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe that was what he would take away from this. All of your thoughts had been consumed by worries that he’d think you were trying to hit on him, but here he was thinking that you thought of him as a father figure. Which you didn’t. Your dad is fine, no need to replace him, at least not at this point. 

“No, no. Oh my god– Sorry,” You choke out, half laughing. It’s a quiet moment on the porch for a second, just the two of you standing there. Maybe you should explain your thought process.

“It’s just that you’re a dad and like– not to sound like a weirdo freak but nobody’s been at your house all day and it made me sad for you. Not that I pity you but,” your voice trails off as you fear you’ve made this worse. Joel seems a bit surprised at this, mouth opening slightly but then transitioning to a soft smile.

“And what if I told you that I wanted everyone t’leave me alone today?” He asks you slyly. And oh god, that is so much worse than him mistaking this gesture for flirting or pity. You never would have thought that maybe the guy who does everything for everyone probably just wants to be left the hell alone for a gift. Your heart drops in your chest, taking all the blood in your face with it. Embarrassment floods you with a force you didn’t realize possible, stuttered apologies leaving your lips as fast as you can. Joel shakes his head, laughing quietly as you sputter “sorry” repeatedly, like a broken sprinkler.

“I’m jokin’, sweetheart. I appreciate this,” he says. The crows' feet by his eyes shouldn’t be as charming as they are, but combined with that rumbling laugh and smile… he could get away with anything. He plucks the Home Depot gift card from the ribbon and huffs a laugh, like he’s impressed.

Well that’s… something? It made him smile right? Maybe feeling bad for Joel was better than feeling stupid in front of him. You step back, towards the stairs of his porch, but he shakes his head. “You were really this worried?” He asks, admiring the flowers. That makes your heart bloom in your chest, seeing how much he really liked this. Joel didn’t seem much like a flower guy, but you saw the way he kept his yard neat, with tulips in the spring and his lawn trimmed squarely. Shyly, you nod in response to his question. It feels silly to worry for him like this, you don’t know if he considers you a friend the way he is in your head.

“S’awful sweet,” he tells you. Something about his presence is so big, a balance of hospitality and intimidation all at once. Maybe it’s his big stature, broad shoulders and thick arms, a body built for work. Or his voice, the strong timbre of it, humbled in southern twang. Joel is a force of warmth, a heat that can’t be contained. His heart shines through his golden skin, forcing whoever he looks at to have a spotlight. That’s where the intimidation lies, in how he makes you feel like there’s a halo over your head, all his attention right there. 

He’s so hot you don’t even want him to look at you.

But there he is anyways, smiling as he admires the gift again, dorkily leaning in to dramatically huff the flowers. His mouth is moving but you're deafened by the sensation of a blush on your face. You thought it was just a silly little crush, because who wouldn’t find Joel attractive. He’s handsome, hard working, and just an all around traditional man. But this attraction… It's like your crush on him has given you tinnitus. His lips are moving and you aren’t registering the words. Wait shit, he’s speaking–

“Darlin’?” Joel calls. He looks at you, head tilted, and still fucking smiling. The way his eyes glimmer, the crows feet that squeeze them into a smile… Why is it so hard to hear him?

“I asked if you wanted to come in,” he repeats. 

—

You’ve never been inside Joel’s house, but you’d never thought about it either. Being in it, now, it all makes sense. Photos of his daughters are framed everywhere, their achievements plastered on the walls in shines of silver and gold. It’s hard not to imagine Joel hunched over his kitchen counter, tediously cutting pictures out to place them in frames. He was only an idea before, an idea of a man, and now he has become one wordlessly. All it took was stepping inside his house, smelling him everywhere. Life dances in the jackets that are tossed over dining room chairs, the toolbelt dumped by the shoe rack at the door. The picture of Joel you held in your mind begins to come alive, the movements in the details of his life stealing your breath. He is more than a good man, he is a great one.

And now, you have to strike up a conversation with him.

Joel grunts as he sits down on the couch beside you, placing two glasses of water down. He places his glass in front of the can of beer sitting on a coaster, distorting the label to nothing but warped blue and red. Is he hiding that he was drinking? Why is that cute? 

A pause hushes both of you as Joel gets comfortable, sitting down. He’s paused a show, but it just looks like it was whatever movie was playing on the local TV channel. 

“You must be so proud of them,” you say, eyes glazing over the pictures of Sarah and Ellie. You can tell exactly which photos were taken with a camera and which were taken with his phone. One picture of Ellie, maybe when she was 13 or 14, is from her soccer tournament. She’s smiling, holding up a ribbon for MVP, and Joel’s thumb is in the bottom corner. It’s strange to realize that Joel has basically been a father twice over, but also admirable. 

He talks for a little while, rambling about Sarah and her time up at college, and also how Ellie has been doing better in school this year. You always had a feeling Ellie was a bit feistier than Sarah was, but to hear how proud Joel is of her anyways makes your heart flutter. His love for them was so unconditional, so why weren’t they here today? You ask him, a half smile crossing his lips as he hears your question.

“Sarah called me ‘round lunchtime, one of them video calls. Had lunch with my girl and got to catch up with her. She’s so damn busy, y’know that? Always studying and,” he catches his breath, realizing he’s blabbing again. A reddish tone creeps up his neck in embarrassment.

“Point is, she called. Was nice of her, I miss her lots,” He finishes quietly.

Your eyebrow raises. He didn’t mention Ellie. Joel huffs.

“I’m 99% sure she’s over at Dina’s making me a gift, but it’s fine that she forgot. I’ve been on her ass about homework, fair’s fair.”

He looks cute when he’s begrudging, one side of his mouth sliding to the side so part of his cheek puffs over it. You nod, making a comment in response. The conversation is so smooth you forget what you’re saying as soon as you’re laughing. 

This is easier than you thought it would be. Joel’s always been friendly, obviously, but you just assumed he would be more closed off than this. Even if it’s just rambling about his daughters, or Tommy, or the jobs he’s been managing and how annoying his clients are, it’s something more. Something more than the passing glances and small conversation you’ve had before.

You talk a bit about your own life, how tough the move to Texas was, how lonely it can be. Joel doesn’t seem as receptive to this, but there’s an understanding in his eyes that you can feel. He’s a tough clam to slide your knife into, and you doubt you’ll feel his tongue today. The eager blabber he has for his family and career doesn’t extend to himself, and it seems you’ve hit a wall with him. Or maybe you’ve hit too close to home. “Sorry,” you say, feeling a little weird. 

This whole day has felt like you’re pulling against a lead Joel wasn’t even holding in the first place, like you’re always doing too much. But just like the rest of the day, he isn���t holding the rope around your neck. He’s surging forward with reassurances blooming out of his mouth, Texas sweet to the bone. 

He shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine, he gets it. A joke about being a single father, a smile directed at you, consoling. Vaporub for your congested anxieties.

“I’m sorry darlin,” Joel starts, and fuck is he sending you home? Is that your cue to leave? You did too much, he was just being nice.

“-- I didn’t even offer you water when you came in. D’you need somethin’ to drink?” He asks.

God, doesn’t he get tired of being this nice? Your neighbors warned you that he was a grump when you first moved here, dirty liars. 

“Oh, sure, uh. Water would be good, thanks,” you reply.

You’re only half paying attention to the grunt he lets out when he gets up the first time, your eyes busying themselves with the way his cotton tee stretches across the muscled planes of his back. But, after he hands you the glass of water and groans when he sinks back into the couch, you notice. 

You down the glass like you’re parched, but really your mouth just needs to be full right now. The sound of his groans are bouncing in your ear canals as your neck flushes red with each gulp of water. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Bad back?” You ask after you catch your breath. 

He hums in response, talking about how it comes with the job he has. “All that lifting in my early years…” as if he’s a thousand years old. Joel mentions that he’s been to the chiropractor a few times, thanks to Sarah’s begging and pleading.

“I don’t know, I think it’s gimmicky. They get you on the table and the guy feelin’ you up acts like he’s Christ himself,” Joel says, rolling his eyes. 

The idea of Joel, shirtless and face down, grumbling as some guy works his hands over his skin. The idea of Joel groaning in relief as someone else works those knots out, God you wish you were a chiropractor, you wish you could put your hands all over him.

Greed hardens over your mind like a shell, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I could– I could help, maybe. My dad used to have a pretty bad back and I kinda figured out how to work knots out.”

Joel’s eyes widen, looking over to you with mild interest. For the first time today, around Joel, you don’t feel like you’ve overstepped. In fact he looks interested in this offer. A beat passes between the two of you, hesitation caught in his throat it seems.

It’s probably super fucked up in his head, his younger neighbor coming over and offering to rub him down. But your mind is still greedy, coated in thoughts of his skin under your palms, and that southern rumble that’s given you dilf earworms.

He looks like he’s about to say no when you speak again.

“You don’t even have to lay down, or take your shirt off. Could just lift it up,” you offer. 

Joel still looks like he’s going to say no, the left side of his mouth raising to make up some reason. You can’t let him, not when you’ve been this ballsy. Walking out of here now would make this infinitely more awkward.

“It’s your day, Joel,” you supply him with a reason to say yes. The reason might be silly, might be a last minute add-on to his father’s day, but who cares.

Apparently not Joel, since he pulls his shirt up to his shoulders, the fabric scrunching around his broad frame.

—

You feel a little stupid, slotted behind Joel on the couch. The two of you are basically shoved up against one another, Joel wriggling to give you access to his lower back. He hasn’t said anything yet, no reassurance that this backrub is any good. You think you’re doing well, you feel the knots loosening. It might be better this way, him not making noise. The groan you heard earlier was more than enough to push you into a frenzy.

Your hands work further down, where his waist begins to pull in. Looking closer you can see where the softness of his tummy is, a fatherly badge of honor. Continuing your movements, you gently press your thumbs into the flesh there, and earn yourself Joel’s first noise.

Not a grunt, groan, complaint, or cuss. A whimper.

Your voice clashes with his, both of you talking over each other accidentally.

“Are you okay–” you ask as his voice flounders again, a “Darlin--” leaving him out of his own volition.

Pulling your hands away you begin to pull his shirt back down his back, mortified. How could you claim you were good at this and then hurt his back more? Joel’s been through enough today.

“Please don’t stop,” Joel’s voice grabs your brain again, forcing your focus.

He’s sliding his shirt up again, just by rolling his shoulders as he hunches over, waiting for you to continue. His face is in his hands, and his ears are pink. It’s the first time he’s asked you for anything tonight, you can’t refuse him. 

Placing your hands back where they were, you begin to massage again. It seems like his lower back is the main problem, with the way he’s grunting into his palms. As your hands work away the aches he begins to swear to himself. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as your thumbs dig deep, soothing a pain he hasn’t felt eased in years. 

This is good. Pride spreads in your chest, knowing he feels better. Your hands work away, and you get laser focused on untangling these massive knots in his back. Eventually you break your focus, switching to softer rubs and small scratches up and down his back.

Tearing your eyes away from his skin, you realize the throw pillow that was beside you earlier is gone. The yellow corner of the cushion peeks at you from where you saw Joel’s belly earlier, over his lap. A thick forearm is crushing it into himself there, the veins in his neck pulsing. 

Flames lick up your face, onto the tips of your ears and down your neck, heating your spine. Is he aroused right now? “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, voice tight.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just– it just feels nice,” he admits.

Your hands pause. Okay, so he’s admitted he’s hard. What do you do now? Keep rubbing his back and blueball the poor guy? On Father's day? That seems mean, and awkward. Everything about this is awkward though, so it couldn’t really get worse.

“I could… I could help it feel better,” you offer meekly.

You’re not scared of a dick. You aren’t. Your voice is quiet because it seems like he is horribly ashamed of this, probably feeling guilty.

Joel rubs a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to, you can just go,” he says, but his voice betrays him. Need is sewn in his tone, a desperation.

Part of you wonders how long it’s been since someone touched him like this as you reach around, palming the front of his jeans. The hiss he lets out tells you it’s been awhile. How wrong that is, an attractive man like Joel being forced to get his own rocks off.

Getting the button and fly of his jeans down is difficult when you can’t see, even worse when your brain is making up images of Joel masturbating. He’s so shy when he’s being touched, does he bite his sheets? Bite his other fist in the shower? Poor boy, he deserves this. 

His hips lift off the couch to help you shove his jeans and briefs down. Joel’s bare ass slides against you and he cringes. “Is it okay if you don’t look?” He asks. 

You hate that he seems so insecure, but you’re not going to push him. Nodding into his skin, you press your face to his back, resting your cheek near the blade of his shoulder. He’s heavy in your palm, warm skin with veins your fingers can trace over.

Telling him that he’s big feels redundant, you’re sure he knows that about himself. Neither of you seem very sure about what you’re doing, the shuddering breaths from his chest matching your hesitant grasp around his cock. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again.

Joel nods into his hand, asking you to please touch him. 

Admittedly, it’s a dry hand job, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. The flick of your wrist is fluid, even if your arm is cramping from being wrapped around him. Joel lets out these little noises, grunts and whines. His hand is covering his eyes while the other one rests lightly on your forearm, like he wants to know that you’re still there.

Need is exuding from him, making his desperation take over his need to really give a shit about how submissive he might be appearing. He shudders particularly hard as you squeeze on the upstroke, voice choking.

“Shit– shit, please,” he gasps, “please can I spit in your hand?” 

It’s a little surprising, but again, you can’t refuse him. You say “yeah” into his skin, closing your eyes as you feel him spit into your hand. It’s filthy, his saliva on you as he guides your hand to jerk him off. Joel uses your palm to slick the head of his dick, teasing himself on your skin.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him be selfish all day. Part of you wants to call him a good boy, but part of you also knows this might not be normal for Joel. Hell, this isn’t normal for you either. 

Instead, you ask him if it’s good. A rasped “yes,” emanates from him between a low groan and a curse. Your head lifts from his back as he begins to shudder, his orgasm creeping closer. Listening to him is so good, you’re a mess between your legs, where your core nudges his ass.

Without a thought, you sink your teeth into the meat between his shoulder and his neck. Not enough pressure to bruise or hurt, just to let him know you’re there. There was no intention to push him over the edge, but your little bite does. A guttural groan is forced out of him as he comes into your hand, stringing sticky between your fingers. 

“Fuck– fuck I’m sorry, oh my god,” he pants, shivering. 

Your head is shaking again, reassuring him that it was okay, that he’s okay. 

“It’ll wash off,” you joke, feeling the stick of him on you. 

—

Joel does help you wash it off, once he’s done redressing. He’s clingy though, arms around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink. He’s definitely sleepy, eyes blinking slowly when you peek at him while you dry your hands.

You step close to him, your damp hands meeting his dry ones. The awkward spirit of the evening has been killed off, his shyness melted away.

“Usually I’d offer to return the favor but… I have to pick up Ellie from her friend’s house now. I’m really sorry, darlin’,” he admits.

Shaking your head, you push away the negative feeling that surfaces. How are you supposed to go back to being neighbors after that? But also, what did you really expect?

Joel leads you to the door, legs a bit shakey. A smug feeling joins the negative ones in your chest at that, but it’s not enough. 

“I really do apologize,” Joel says again, “but this just gives me an opportunity to see you again. If you’d like, obviously. I think I owe ya dinner.” 

And there he is, not holding your lead but reassuring your heart. He wants to see you again.

Your eyes meet his in the dim light of the hallway, catching those sweet eyes in your own. He looks so hopeful, so apologetic too.

“I’d like that, but you don’t owe me anything. It’s Father’s day,” you point out. 

Joel rolls his eyes. This Father’s day excuse is a little overused between the two of you now, but it’s still cute to him since you’re the one saying it. He opens the door for you, slipping his own boots on and grabbing his keys.

“Fine,” Joel says, “but when Pretty Neighbor day rolls around, you let me know.

[moonstruckme]

A Friendly Proposition

Based on this request: Hi mae!!! Would you be open to writing tasm!peter parker or Remus lupin with best friend reader who hasn’t cum before, and he is outraged when he hears this? And he’s like, why don’t I show you (wink wink) -- Thank you for requesting!! I chose Remus for this but I would love to do some Peter smut in the future if anyone has any ideas :)

cw: smut mdni, fingering, not necessarily inexperienced reader but kind of has that vibe, basically smut no plot

bestfriend!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 2.2k words

“I dunno, I guess overall it was fine.” 

“Fine?” Remus looks up from where he’s lying on his bed, one eyebrow lifted in that way you don’t think he knows he does. You’re sitting on the floor in front of his mirror, attempting to cover up a particularly bad hickey your date from last night had left you as a parting gift. His reflection has a wry twist to its mouth. “I should hope it was more than just fine.” 

You shrug, tilting your head to dab at the makeup on your neck. “Not the best, not horrible. I’d call it thoroughly average.” 

Your friend hisses sympathetically through his teeth. “Not the sort of rave review most guys strive for. If I left someone with a mark like that, I’d hope I made it worth their while.” 

You can’t keep your lips from curving. “I didn’t say it wasn’t worthwhile.” 

“Did he at least make you cum?” 

You cough in surprise. “At least?” You turn around, giving him a disbelieving look. 

Remus’ answering expression is equally incredulous. 

“How common do you think that is?” you ask him. 

The eyebrow lifts higher. “Well, now I’m not sure, but I’ve never had any problems.” 

You scoff, turning back to the mirror. “That’s because you’re a guy.” 

“No,” Remus says, amusement tingling in his tone. “I mean, yes, but I meant I’ve never had any problems making other people cum.” 

“Seriously?” You freeze with your hand upheld awkwardly above your neck. You’re doing your best to make this conversation feel casual, but sometimes having an attractive guy for a best friend can get confusing, and the room is starting to feel a tad warm despite the open windows. “Like, what’s your success rate?” 

“What’s yours?” 

“I asked you first.” 

Remus’ lips twitch, fondness beneath his exasperation. “For women specifically?”

“Sure.” 

He nods, expression turning pensive. “I can’t be exactly sure. I mean, it’s not like I’m constantly fucking loads of women.” He says it so offhandedly, but just the language makes a tickle of warmth start up in your cheeks. “There were a couple who didn’t, when I was younger, still learning, but since then it’s been fairly high.” 

You swallow. You wonder what the learning had entailed, what Remus had picked up that you and anyone you’ve hooked up with hasn’t. It’s typically not for a lack of trying, though some certainly invest more time into the ambition than others. You can’t say you’ve even tried that hard yourself, not in a while and not since you’ve reckoned with the idea that it may simply not happen for you. It feels like a pointless exercise. 

You break from your reverie when you notice Remus watching you in the mirror. 

“Your turn,” he prompts. 

“You can’t make fun of me.” 

“You know I wouldn’t.” 

You absolutely do not know that, he loves to tease, but he’s right in that you don’t think he would about this. You catch yourself nibbling on your bottom lip, and stop. 

You do your best to affect his unflappable blasé when you say, “Zero, so far.” 

That blasé hardly holds up now. Remus sits straight up. “Never? Not once?” 

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, so you focus on covering the spot on your neck. “Nope.”

“Not even by yourself?” 

“You make it sound like it’s so easy.” There’s some bitterness in your tone as you tilt your head up, inspecting your work in the light. “I haven’t tried in a while, because I was never able to. I got sick of it.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” 

You try not to melt. Remus will call you that, from time to time, but given the context of your conversation you wish he wouldn’t. Suddenly his room feels a little bit smaller, the atmosphere more private than before.

You look at his reflection, expecting to find teasing in his expression, but it’s thoughtful. Contemplative. 

“You said you wouldn’t make fun,” you remind him. “I feel like that should also include feelings of pity. Let’s not act like it’s some great tragedy to not have cum before.” 

“No, I’m…it’s not that. You’re right, there are worse fates.” One corner of his lips curves slightly, and you mirror him, relieved. “I was just thinking that I could…well, I might be able to help.” 

“What?” A little laugh trips off your tongue. Your face is really feeling warm now. “Do you have some kind of manual or something?”

“Would you want my help?”

“Is there a diagram you’re going to show me? Trust me, I’ve seen those.” 

“Answer the question, love.” 

You set your makeup down, expelling a breath. Meet his eyes in the mirror with a shrug. “Yeah. Sure, I’d be curious.” 

Remus studies you. Analytical hazel eyes and a map of scars you would know blind. “Tell me if this makes you uncomfortable, but I could show you, if you’d like.” 

Your breath seems to stall in your lungs. “On…” you trail off, not wanting to misunderstand him. 

“On you,” he confirms. “Would you want that?” 

You’re nodding before you can think enough to speak. Your head feels slow and fuzzy, like you’re navigating a dream. “Yeah,” you manage. “If you’re alright with that.” 

“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” Remus spreads his legs open on the bed, patting the space between them. “C’mere, love.” 

“What—like, now?” 

“Do you have another engagement?” He gives you a little smile. It squishes the scar underneath his left eye adorably, but when you hesitate he sobers. “Hey, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

You shake your head, and it’s like your body remembers how to move, propelling you up from your seated position. “No, sorry, I’m good with this. I think I’m just a bit nervous.” 

“That’s alright,” he reassures you. “You don’t need to be, though. It’s only me.” 

You see his eyes drop to your mouth, and you let your lip slip from between your teeth a second time. Remus is right. If there’s anyone you should be comfortable learning this with, it’s him. 

When you go to crawl up on the bed, he stops you. “Probably want to lose the pants first,” he suggests. 

Right. You set your fingers to the button, and it seems to fly open of its own regard. You feel Remus’ eyes on you as you slide them over your hips and step out. 

“Underwear too, or…” 

“No, we’ll keep those for now.” Remus holds a hand out for you, and you get up onto the bed, letting him help you settle in between his legs. It’s impossible not to be conscious of the feel of his pants against your bare skin, or how comfortably he wraps a hand around your thigh, pulling it open that much wider. “Do you usually start with everything off?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “Isn’t that sort of the point?”

“Sometimes,” he hums. “Sometimes, though, it helps to work up to it. You need to get warmed up, you know?” 

You murmur an affirmation, though you don’t actually know. There’s never been much warming up when you or anyone else has tried to do this before. But it doesn’t matter, because then Remus starts rubbing the outsides of your thighs with both hands, and any sound dies in your throat. 

“You have to start slow,” he says in a low voice. Scarred, strong hands moving over your skin. “Everyone responds to different things, and it’s about feeling out what works for you.” 

You can’t imagine how this wouldn’t work for anyone. Remus touch starts moving inward, until his long fingers are dragging over your inner thighs, fuelling a familiar warmth at their apex. 

“Are you feeling more relaxed now?” 

You wet your lips. “I think so.” 

“Good. If you’re feeling up to it, you could try touching yourself other places, see what works.” 

Tentatively, you slip one of your hands up your shirt. Your breasts feel more sensitive than usual, and when you squeeze one, combined with Remus’ hands on your thighs, it makes your breath catch. 

“There you go, sweetheart. You’ve got it.” 

Your body starts to slacken against him, but Remus doesn’t seem to mind. He only uses his grip on your thighs to drag you closer, propping you up. You can’t tell which one of you is warmer. 

Without warning, his hand brushes over your mound. You gasp. 

“Is this okay?” Remus asks, his voice closer to your ear than it had been. He gives you another stroke over your panties. 

“Yes,” you breathe out. 

“Alright. Tell me if I do anything you don’t like.” 

One hand continues moving over your thigh while the other drags the fabric of your panties aside, flattening over your cunt. 

“Oh, poor girl,” he coos. “Is all this for me?” 

Your silence must scream mortification, because he chuckles and bumps the side of your head with his affectionately. 

“Sorry, I’m only messing with you. Is it always like this?” 

You lie. “Yeah.” 

Remus hums, dragging two fingers through your folds. You squirm in his lap. Your hand has completely forgotten your breast. 

“I usually start here,” he says, one finger circling your clit. It slips and slides in the mess you’ve already made. “You do the same?” 

You nod fervently. He adds another finger, moving over it gently, and has to tighten his grip on your leg to keep it open. Your breaths start coming faster as he repeats the motion. You can feel him getting hard behind you. 

Just as your pleasure starts to take you under, Remus’ fingers fall away. 

“Your turn,” he says. His voice sounds slightly hoarse. 

When you hesitate, confused and a bit bereaved, he chuckles, taking your hand in his and pressing your fingers to your clit. 

“Show me how you’re gonna do it, sweetheart.” 

Tentatively, you try to copy his movements. Your own fingers feel clumsy and inadequate compared to his, but after all the work Remus has put in they’re still enough. You chase that tightening sensation, hips twitching into your own touch. 

Remus doesn’t leave you on your own for long. His hand finds your cunt again, seeking, it seems, every possible way to drive you to madness. He collects the slick pooling by your entrance, sliding it up and down through your folds, and when his fingers breach your hole you make a soft, surprised sound that sends his lips down onto your shoulder. 

Instantly, you’re aware of how much better this feels. Remus’ mouth is warm and soft, a contrast against the roughness of his stubble. He sucks at you gently, warming you up like he had your cunt, before letting his teeth scrape lightly over your skin. Your date from last night had been so eager to get your neck into his mouth, suctioning onto you like a parasite and rolling your skin between his teeth in a way that hurt more than it helped. Remus is all temperance. He bites you, and then licks it over to make sure you’re soothed. 

The thought occurs to you that maybe you shouldn’t be comparing Remus to someone you actually dated. 

He curls his fingers inside you, and every thought you’ve ever had falls away. All you are is a collection of sensations and wants. 

“You’ve got it, darling, keep going. You’re doing so well.” 

Your fingers and Remus’ working like one mind, until your thighs are shivering and he has to redouble his efforts to keep you still. Your head lolling onto his shoulder, the way his lips transfer to your neck as if it's the most natural thing in the world. His scruff scratching under your jaw, moving as he says your name. 

The myriad of other things he says, sweetheart, baby, good girl, you’re doing so good, growing raspier as the pressure in your core worsens until you worry you’ll shatter if he doesn’t keep ahold of you. 

“Let go,” he instructs, kissing the skin beneath your ear lovingly. “You’re alright, just let go.” 

You choose to trust him, and your body—your being—snaps.

You make sounds you can’t hear, your own fingers stuttering and stopping while Remus works you through the new sensation, murmuring assurances into your skin. Runs his free hand over your trembling thigh. 

Eventually, your mind quiets enough to hear that his breathing is nearly as labored as your own. He slips his fingers out of you. You try to turn around to face him, but your body betrays you, slumping against his front. 

Remus chuckles, smoothing a hand up your side. “Good job, sweetheart. You did beautifully.” He smears a kiss over your cheek. “How was that?” 

You sigh blissfully. Your brain feels pulverized. “Really good.” 

Another soft laugh. “Yeah? Glad to hear it.” 

“Thank you.” You lean your head on his shoulder, trying to look up at him. 

“You’re welcome,” he replies, voice warm with amusement. “Honestly, I should probably be thanking you. I feel quite lucky.” 

You hum bemusedly. Remus’ sex-slicked fingers run lazily over the inside of your thigh. Perhaps your mind is still addled from your orgasm, but this feels incredibly normal to you now. 

“Really? Why?” 

“I just,” he exhales, leaning his head against yours lightly. “I just can’t believe I was the first person to hear you make those sounds.” 

“Oh.” You feel the tickle of embarrassment coming back to you. It draws your shoulders in. “Sorry. Was I very loud?” 

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart.” Remus turns his head, kissing your temple firmly. “You were perfect.” 

[andypantsx3]

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑣

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike.All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, knotting, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 7.6k | chapter 4 of 4

Then

“Shouto duty,” was the first thing Touya grumbled as he emerged from his house.

A little shadow with red and white hair peered out from behind him, big eyes staring up at you. Shouto was dressed in a periwinkle t-shirt and khaki shorts in the late spring heat, and he was nearly vibrating with excitement. You reached out reflexively to pat that fluff of hair, and Shouto seemed to lean into your touch like a cat, probably starved of affection from his fussy older brother.

“My lucky day,” you said, grinning at the way it made Touya roll his eyes.

Shouto nearly launched himself off the steps, looking quietly thrilled to be tagging along. He shoved himself in between you and Touya as you walked, as if unable to bear Touya’s proximity to you, making Touya bark out an annoyed, “Oi, watch it.”

Shouto ignored him, turning to you. “Y/N, I have something to tell you.”

You looked down at him curiously. “What?”

“I lost a tooth,” he said, staring up at you seriously. You laughed, knowing most kids would have smiled to show off their tooth gap, but Shouto had always been a little bit more withdrawn, though he was fairly open around you.

“When?” you asked, ignoring Touya’s scoff. “Did the tooth fairy come?”

Shouto nodded. “Last night. I am adding the money to my inheritance for you.”

That made you laugh again, and you bumped his shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Shouto. I think you should buy yourself something with it though. Especially in this weather—it’s good popsicle weather.”

Shouto looked like he was seriously considering this. “Do you like popsicles?”

You nodded. “Definitely.”

He seemed to pocket that information, and you hid a fond smile. That kid was too sweet for his own good, when it came to you. You wondered when his little case of older-brother’s-friend worship would end. You hoped not for another few years, at least.

“Fucking finally,” Touya said when he caught sight of Rumi and Keigo at the end of his neighborhood, his booted steps growing faster, as if eager to get away from the two of you.

You didn’t mind—Shouto was easy company.

“Oi!” Keigo called out to you, waving a skinny arm. You accompanied Shouto over, watching with a little bit of self-satisfaction when Shouto ducked a hair ruffle from Rumi, the look on his face almost reminiscent of Touya.

You were still his favorite, it seemed.

The usual round of arguments commenced about what to play now that all of you were united, Touya snottily vetoing everyone’s suggestions—except, notably, Keigo’s. Eventually you settled on hide and seek, something Shouto could participate in too, since it didn’t involve convoluted rules, and established a set distance you could go.

Finally Shouto was dubbed the first seeker, and the rest of you took off into the surrounding neighborhood.

You immediately beelined for the sprawling oak at the edge of the neighborhood, its thick, leafy branches the perfect place to conceal yourself. Touya, Keigo, and Rumi had long caught on to the fact that you were almost always to be found up a tree, but Shouto hadn’t played this game with you before.

Thirty seconds and one bark-scraped palm later had you settled in your hiding place, just as you caught Shouto’s shout from afar, “Ready or not, here I come!”

You quieted your breath, listening for the sound of his approach. This late in spring, the cicadas were already roaring. The leaves rustled around you in the breeze and you could hear some other band of kids shrieking and laughing, far in the distance.

It was nearing ten minutes on by the time you heard the thump of Shouto’s sneakers approaching, and you could just make out that distinct mop of bright hair through the branches. He poked around behind bushes, peering at eye level, but didn’t seem to think to look up for you. You watched him hunt through the surrounding area, then dash off when you heard a distinctly Keigo squawk not too far away.

You were nearly asleep on your tree branch when you heard his return, and you sat up quietly to watch him again. You were impressed that he seemed to know you were somewhere nearby.

As you watched him rifle around, you wondered if you should drop a hint, just because he’d been so sweet to you earlier. He’d been so adorable insisting he’d save you his tooth money.

You deliberately rustled a branch, leaning on it so it made a loud creak.

Immediately, Shouto’s head snapped up. Two mismatched eyes narrowed in on you, and his face seemed to brighten when he saw you. A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

“Caught you,” he called up to you.

You stuck a leg down tauntingly. “Not yet.”

Something passed over Shouto’s face, and his gaze seemed to sharpen. “I have, too.” You could almost hear a foot stamp in his voice.

You grinned. “Not until I get down.”

A determined look settled across Shouto’s features, and he prowled over to the tree. You watched him jump for a lower branch, catching it securely before hefting himself up. His arms were skinny, but his movements were sure, intent. In no time at all you were helping lever him onto your own branch, pulling him up alongside you.

“I caught you,” Shouto repeated, settling a proprietary hand on your arm. His hand was warm, and his fingers caught your wrist tightly.

You smiled. “I let you catch me by making all that noise, you mean.”

A tiny frown pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I knew you were around here,” he said, something almost like a pout in his voice.

You laughed. “I did notice you came back. Those are some good tracking skills—although don’t forget to look up. I’m usually always up a tree, when it comes to hide and seek, and Touya and the others I think have caught on too. They’re probably up their own trees somewhere.”

“I do not care about finding them,” Shouto said. His straightforward tone startled a laugh out of you.

You settled back against the branch, Shouto still gripping your arm firmly. “Should we let them wait, then?” you asked, grinning. “I bet Rumi will come out on her own pretty soon, she’s so impatient.”

Shouto nodded. “I will stay here with you.”

The sincerity of the statement warmed you, the way Shouto’s serious little proclamations always did. He was too sweet for this earth. “Then shall we discuss which popsicle you’re going to get later? I have some recommendations.”

Shouto nodded seriously, and you launched into your nonsense, pleased. The leaves rustled around you, the breeze cool and pleasant against your skin. It felt like time stretched out around you, thick like taffy, slow and lazy and easy in the late spring breeze.

You thought absently that wished you could have a million more moments, Shouto the easiest company beside you, just like this.

Now

The morning of the run dawned warm and dry, sunny with a light breeze.

It was perfect hiking weather, and that was the only thing that kept you in good spirits. You tried not to think about Shouto—about how he was going after someone today, how you’d possibly seen him for the last time before he did. He’d said he’d find your tree, but there was really no guarantee his omega was going to run in the same direction as you.

You ate breakfast on the couch with your mother, listening to her excitedly chatter about your prospects today. You hammed it up a little bit, pretending you had any interest in being chased by an alpha, so that you could milk it later and avoid promises to commit to next year’s run. You hoped it would be enough of a deterrent for her—every year you grew older without a mate, she seemed more desperate to find you one.

You repacked your bags, readying yourself to board your train back to the city tomorrow, feeling mournful. Then you spent the rest of the morning finishing up the small things your mother had let go while you were gone, YouTubing your way through a door knob repair, and some weather stripping replacements. You lifted her air-conditioning into the window, swearing and sweating the whole time and wishing you had even a fraction of Shouto’s easy alpha strength.

After everything was finished, you packed up for the run, placing all your snacks and the sandwich Shouto had helped assemble into a small backpack, stuffing in a water and a book after. Then you scrounged around in your clean laundry for some hiking clothes, settling on leggings and a tee-shirt, no reason to try to impress anyone.

It was late morning by the time you ducked out of your house and started the trek to the preserve on the edge of town. Throngs of people were already gathered when you got there, alphas and omegas alike crowding the entrance. An overwhelming mixture of scents washed over you, the sweetness and florals of the omegas, the tang and spice of the alphas, even the small muted underwash of a few betas.

The overstimulation was nostalgic, and brought to mind your first few runs—the anticipatory hope you felt, the determination not to get caught for some one-time mating with an alpha who wouldn’t prove to be your life mate. It had been years, and you knew the outcome already this time, but some small thrill of anticipation thrummed in your veins regardless.

You kept to the edge of the crowd, sprawling out on the grass until the organizers called for the omegas and running betas to come forward to their starting mark. The alphas and remaining betas would be called to the mark a half hour later, to follow their intended targets into the preserve.

Then the whistle was being blown, and the crowd of omegas around you surged into the forest.

The first hundred meters of the preserve were a tangle of wild trees and overgrowth—omegas typically stayed on the trails until the forest opened up, several paths intersecting and leading away into hills and towards a pond, with the last one stretching towards the coast. This was your usual route and you followed it until the trees thinned out, then stepped off the path to tromp through the woods in the direction of the coastline.

You kept a brisk pace, wanting to get as far in as you could before the alphas were let in. Eventually the spruces and firs gave way to mostly coastal scrub pines amid tall grass, and you could smell the ocean through the trees, hear the crash of the waves against the rocky outcroppings.

You stepped out of the woods along a small coastal path that stretched for miles, and followed it a few minutes more until it flattened out. There was a small meadow laid into the coastline, spanning several square meters of pale seagrass and flowering bushes, shaded by an enormous willow tree—your target.

The meadow had a beautiful view of the shining blue waves through the barren scrub trees, but more importantly it was out of the way, little known to people who did not frequent the coastline trails. The willow was the perfect cover, its trailing fingers and dense greenery more than enough to hide one disinterested beta.

You ducked through the leaves, latching onto one of the lower branches and heaving yourself up. It had been years since you’d climbed anything—the city not exactly chalk-full of great climbing trees—but you were pleased to find it just as satisfying. You scrambled up into the canopy, testing your weight against your designated branch, finding it still held you easily.

Perfect.

You immediately rewarded yourself with a granola bar, settling onto your branch and chewing contentedly, pleased with the temperature. The sun was hot, but in the shade of the leaves and the salty breeze drifting in off the sea, it was perfectly comfortable.

You’d just gotten out your book to read, flipping to the spot you’d last left off at, when the chirp of nearby birds stopped. The meadow seemed to grow quiet around you.

You sat up, alert, at the soft tread of a bootfall close by. Your breath froze in your lungs. An omega, looking for a place to hide? Or some alpha?

Except then a long-fingered hand parted the hanging tendrils of the willow, and a familiar head of scarlet and white hair was ducking inside the canopy.

Embarrassingly, your heart swelled. Shouto had made time to stop in before finding his omega.

“Shouto!” you shouted down, pleased.

Shouto’s face tipped up to you, a tiny smile on his mouth. He looked especially good today, you thought, a navy tee shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, baring the flesh of his biceps, a flush on his cheeks from the warm spring sun. He looked a little taken apart, windswept like he’d run here, and you furiously stamped down on the flash of heat in your tummy.

Nope. No.

“Y/N,” Shouto intoned quietly, his eyes glittering up at you. “Caught you.”

You were momentarily taken aback by the sound of something unfamiliar in his tone, some strange intensity in his voice and expression. It sounded almost like it meant something to find you here, something more than a momentary pitstop on his way to his omega—but of course that was ridiculous.

You waved down at him, smiling and sticking a leg down tauntingly like when you were kids. “Not yet.”

Shouto’s eyes narrowed, a flash of something predatory tinging his handsome features.

In the blink of an eye, he crossed to the tree, dense muscle coiling and pulling beneath his tee shirt as he pulled himself up. This time he needed none of your help, moving with a panther-like grace. He pulled himself onto the branch immediately below yours, close enough that it put him at eye level with the bottom of your chin.

Then he reached out and snared your ankle in one large, warm hand, a smug sort of glint in his eye. The follow up caught you went unspoken.

Another laugh bubbled up out of you. “Alright alright, this time you got me,” you agreed, flexing your ankle in his hold.

Shouto’s mouth turned up, clearly pleased, but he did not let go. A thumb stroked softly along the hollow beneath your ankle bone. A surprised shiver caught you, sliding up your spine.

“You, um, got here so quick,” you said, trying to think past the sudden fuzz of static in your brain. You hoped your voice sounded impressed and not embarrassingly breathy. “Did you at least note which way your life mate went?”

Shouto’s head tilted, his bangs falling into his eyes as his thumb petted across your skin again. “I did.”

You nodded approvingly, tensing against another shudder. “Did they come out this way? You’re probably the first alpha to make it out here but you won’t want to waste too much time.”

Shouto’s mouth twitched, those heterochromatic eyes trailing down your face. “No time spent with you is a waste.”

That made your face warm. You tried to prod him with your foot, but Shouto’s grip was firm. “You’re going to want to save the charm for your life mate, mister.”

“I am,” he said simply, tone sincere.

You felt your brow furrow—now what was that supposed to mean?—when suddenly Shouto leaned forward, abandoning his grip on your ankle. His hands found the branch at either side of your hip, trapping you inside his reach. You stared down at him, stunned with his sudden proximity.

You felt suddenly a little caged in, your breath pulling up short. What was he—?

“Will you come down to me?” Shouto asked, eyes intent on yours.

The ask felt significant, though you had no idea how. And he was so close, so focused on you.

But you had no clue exactly what he would need you to come down for. Maybe he wanted to split lunch or something? You had your sandwich in your bag, and it would be easier on the ground, you supposed.

Although Shouto probably shouldn’t go running around on too full a stomach, especially if he—with his omega, after—if they…

You found you couldn’t think it, your mind shying away like you’d prodded a nerve.

Really, Shouto should be going soon, before any ranging alphas made it this far out and sniped his life mate before he got to them.

With that thought, however, some selfish thing recoiled inside of you. You desperately craved just a few more minutes with him—this achingly familiar boy, this mind-numbingly beautiful man—before he wasn’t really yours to think of anymore. These were the last few moments you’d get to spend with him before everything changed. It took less than a second to make up your mind.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll come down.”

You shifted, gathering your backpack and maneuvering off your branch carefully. Shouto gave you just enough space to get down, a hand finding your waist as you steadied yourself. He shadowed you down, close at your back to make sure you didn’t slip.

He was acting the consummate gentleman—but there was a strange tension about him, something about the way he moved and the intensity with which he was trailing you. There was something expectant about it, something almost impatient.

Maybe he needed you to hurry up so he could get going. That was probably it.

You turned to your backpack as soon as he guided you safely to the ground. You’d barely gotten it unzipped, however, when Shouto suddenly crowded into your space, startling you.

You stumbled a reflexive step back, breath whooshing out of you when your back connected with the trunk of the willow. Shouto followed, still watching you with that unnerving intensity.

His fingers dipped under your chin, softly turning your face up to his. His gaze was serious—more solemn than you had ever seen him. You went still in his grasp, heartbeat rabbiting in your chest.

What was with him today?

“Shouto,” you said slowly. “Are you… alright?”

Shouto leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. His slow exhale ghosted over your mouth, thumb stroking across your jaw. It sent a swarm of shudders down your spine, and you suddenly weren’t breathing at all.

“I have dreamed of this moment a thousand times,” Shouto said, his tone reverent. It was almost a whisper.

His tone implied there was something incredibly significant about this moment, but you could not for the life of you think of what. Especially not with his face so close, clouding up your thoughts.

You felt your brow furrow against his, and you opened your mouth to ask him what on earth he could be talking about.

Except before you could, Shouto’s hands took either side of your face. And then he bent his head—and pressed his mouth to yours.

All higher thought immediately evacuated your brain, leaving only a sudden zing of panic and the horrible, wonderful excitement of Shouto’s mouth on yours, of Shouto’s strong body so close to yours. Rough bark scraped against your back as Shouto’s front slotted warm and firm against your chest, and the feeling of all that strength pressed so tightly to you made you dizzy.

“Sho–-? Whuh—?” you said, slightly muffled into his mouth.

But Shouto only took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, soft and wet and so unbelievably hot your brain short circuited. Every single nerve ending in your body lit up as you realized Todoroki Shouto had his tongue in your mouth, and that he was kissing you so thoroughly and meticulously it felt as though this was the last kiss he’d ever be allowed. You heard yourself let out a gasp that turned into an embarrassing moan as he pressed harder against you, pinning you between himself and the tree.

Your mind felt like it was melting, Shouto’s mouth doing terrible things to your thoughts’ coherence. Your hands went to his shoulders, and you found yourself opening up to him, every inch of your skin hot. Every flick of his tongue, every brush of his lips felt better than you could have ever imagined, and you were helpless to do anything but let him have you.

Your thoughts were a puddle when Shouto finally let your mouth free. All you could do was stare up at him, shocked.

“Y/N,” Shouto said, his eyes searching your face. “You came down for me.”

His handsome face wore an expression you hadn’t ever seen before as he regarded you, something almost—possessive? His hands had slid to your waist, his touch hot through the material of your shirt.

Your brain swam. Words, what were words? “I—? Uh, yes—?”

Shouto seemed to understand you weren’t getting his point. “‘If I’m not an alpha, and I have to hide somewhere, I’m going to find the best tree in the preserve and go up it and not come down until I find my life mate,’” he said.

It sounded like a quote, and it took you an embarrassingly long moment to realize it was something you had said, years and years and years ago, when you were both kids.

Was he saying—? But that was absurd. No, there was no way. You hadn’t—he wasn’t—

“But you’re Shouto,” you groped around your thoughts for logic and reasoning. “You’re Shouto.”

Shouto watched you patiently, a white eyebrow raising slightly.

“You can’t mean—?” you sputtered. “No. You’re Touya’s baby brother. I’m too old for you. The first time I held you, you were a baby.”

Shouto pressed impossibly closer to you, a long-fingered hand winding its way into yours. “I am not a child, Y/N. And you are not that much older than I.”

You struggled to think through the feeling of his body pressed to yours. You knew it. You knew he wasn’t a child. But all the same, you’d spent long enough telling yourself he’d been meant for someone else. Long enough convinced that you were too old for him.

Long enough that you were absolutely certain this had to be a mistake.

“You’re off limits,” you told him, trying to press him back. Shouto did not budge, however, as solid as stone under your hand.

“You are my life mate,” he said. He raised your joined hands to his mouth, kissing over your knuckles. An electric jolt went through you at the feeling of that mouth on you again, firm and warm. “I have known my whole life. I am off limits to all but you.”

A storm of emotion churned in your gut, everything from guilt to disbelief to pleasure to relief. To hear it said so plainly, after all this time—you are my life mate—by a man who was already so beloved to you. By a boy you’d loved as a friend, a man who you wanted to love as more.

But you couldn’t—he had to deserve better.

“I won’t take advantage of you,” you insisted.

A small smile pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I am not a child. And I am an alpha besides. Your alpha.”

You fought down a furious flush.

“But Shouto there’s so many things–!” you insisted. Beyond being older than him, beyond being a staple in his life since he was young. You were quickly realizing so many of the promises he’d made when he was younger, he actually meant.

“Your inheritance—I never meant to accept that from you for real. And your family, they would not like that I—”

The rest of your words were muffled in Shouto’s mouth, as he bent his head and kissed you again. A flick of his tongue turned even that into a muffled squeak instead. Why was he so good at this?

“Much of my family understands what it means to pursue something singularly,” Shouto said against your lips. “What it means to give everything you have in service of pursuit.”

Your stomach flipped. The Todoroki single-mindedness that you had been convinced had skipped right over Shouto. Suddenly years of solemn watchfulness over you, years of following you like a shadow, years of sharing all his toys and his thoughts and promising to take care of you—it all made a terrible, perfect sort of sense.

Single-mindedness. But not as destruction, as Enji’s and Touya’s had been. As devotion—as thoughtfulness, something so uniquely Shouto you wanted to cry.

God how had you missed this?

You rallied yourself for one last defense.

“Shouto. At the very least you need to consider if you’re making a mistake. Alpha-beta couplings are nontraditional—maybe your senses are off here. Maybe because I’m a beta and I was around when your brain was still forming and you liked me then it feels like there’s something but—”

Shouto’s grip on you flexed, and suddenly his determined expression flickered, a crease forming between those perfect brows.

“Do you see me as a child still?” he asked.

You shook your head. Not since you’d seen him prowl across the Todoroki kitchen, miles of sleek muscle flexing, that perfect campfire scent fogging your brain, tall and gorgeous and unmistakably alpha. And especially not since you’d come to understand the expanse of his life—the home he’d made, the job he had, the goals he’d taken.

“Then do you… not want me?” he asked.

Your heart immediately sank, aching with the soft flicker of hurt that crept across his features.

Your hands had shot out to hold his face before you knew what you were doing.

“Shouto, of course I want you,” you found yourself saying. “Who wouldn’t want you? You are perfect. You are so kind and have always been so good. You are sweet and funny and so beautiful it hurts to look at. Of course I want you. But I don’t want to hurt you—”

“Then say yes,” Shouto insisted.

God you wanted to. You wanted to. You had been so jealous this whole week, you realized, of whoever his life mate was going to be.

The realization crashed into you like a wave, knocking you off balance. You wanted all of Shouto’s time, all of his attention, wanted to curl up in his apartment on that plush couch with him and all but bodily fuse to him, never to come apart again. You wanted to spend a million afternoons cooking in that kitchen, running lunches to him at the firehouse, kissing him, laughing with him, indulging in him—in how kind and sweet and good he’d always been.

Your face must have said it all, because Shouto was crowding back into you.

“I am going to be so good to you, Y/N,” he promised, his mouth drawing closer.

You shivered. Some part of you still felt like you needed to resist him, needed to make him see. But the other part of you, the largest part, wanted to melt in his embrace. Wanted to let him kiss you and kiss him back, wanted to thread your fingers in that fluff of hair and sink into the relief of his companionship.

Shouto hammered the final nail into your coffin with the unerring precision of a boy who’d known you for twenty years.

“Trust me to take good care of you,” he said, his voice dipping to a low whisper.

And that was it—the refrain from all those years ago, before you’d ever understood what he was promising you. Even if you were uncertain about everything else, you would always be certain about Shouto’s care. Shouto’s inherent goodness.

Surrendering, you let yourself fall.

“I do,” you told him. “I trust you. I—always will.”

Then you closed your eyes and let him kiss you.

You could feel Shouto’s soft smile against your mouth, feel a renewed intensity in the way he poured himself into you with his next kiss. You almost sagged against him in sheer relief—the relief of knowing, against all odds, that your life mate had found you even across the years that had threatened to separate you.

Shouto kissed you with a startling vigor, leaving you breathless against the willow when he moved down to your neck, pulling your tee shirt wide to suck several very insistent markings into the hollow of your throat.

You leaned into the rough bark as he mapped his way lower, and lower, only startling when he dropped to his knees before you, pressing his face into the crease of your hip.

Your heart shot into your mouth, a shock of heat licking up your spine. “Shouto!” you stammered.

Shouto only uttered your name into the fabric of your leggings, the material thin enough that you could feel the heat of his exhalation on your skin. One of his hands came up to take your calf, the other creeping up into the band of your leggings, carefully pulling it down.

You watched him as he did, stomach fluttering.

He gently helped you step out of your leggings and panties, leaving you bare and vulnerable to him. You would have been more embarrassed if it wasn’t for the way his eyelashes fluttered appreciatively, and the immediate way he ducked his head to press his mouth right to your core.

You muffled a moan into your palm, thunking your head against the tree trunk.

You could feel Shouto’s slow smile as he hefted your thigh over his shoulder, hands grasping your waist. “Mine,” you heard him utter, soft and low, before licking right over you, possessive and deliberate. It made every inch of your skin flush hot, every nerve ending come to life under his mouth.

You could still hardly believe what was happening, even as you muffled more sounds into your palm as Shouto worked you, with the attentive diligence he’d always done everything when it came to you. You could feel those mismatched eyes on you, cataloging your every reaction to what he did.

He learned all too quickly exactly what you liked, and you were a writhing mess within minutes. Shouto pinned you to the tree with an iron arm across your stomach as you arched and screamed, not letting up until you’d come against his mouth, chanting his name like an oath.

He looked very pleased with himself when you were done, his hair ruffled from your hand, face flushed.

He looked too good to be real.

“I want—Shouto, please—” you said, nearly incoherent but apparently utterly shameless now that he’d had you.

Shouto got to his feet to kiss you again and you flushed when you could taste yourself on his mouth. “Come home with me,” he murmured, tone low.

“You don’t want—?” you said.

Shouto shook his head. “Not here. I’ve imagined this a thousand times, how I wanted it to happen. I’ve thought about what you deserve. I’ve thought about how I will not want to separate, after, not even to take you back home. Come home with me first.”

Fire spread across your cheeks at the idea of Shouto imagining it with you, over and over again. The way he said home, like it was both of yours.

“Okay. Okay yes,” you said, breathless.

Shouto helped you back into your leggings and gathered up your abandoned pack, which you’d apparently dropped and forgotten entirely the moment he’d kissed you. He held your hand in his the whole way back through the woods, occasionally cocking his head or scenting the air, and then taking a long detour around some place, like he didn’t want to share your presence with whoever else was in the woods.

The walk was long, but so easy in Shouto’s company, even with this new dimension of your relationship settling itself between you two. It was frighteningly easy, in fact, after everything.

You talked about everything and nothing, reliving the entire week together, Shouto sharing that he’d hoped you’d see him as a man, had taken the time right up until the run to try to be sure. Ears flaming, you’d shared that you’d been gone for him the moment you’d seen him in the doorway of the kitchen. Shouto’s smug look immediately mopped up any of the reflexive embarrassment you felt sharing that.

By the time you made it to Shouto’s you’d also managed to shoot a text off to your mother, and an emergency extension of your time off to your workplace.

Shouto was on you as soon as the door shut behind you, catching your noise of surprise in his mouth.

Your arms came around him, and he walked you back to his couch, following you down onto it and laying himself out over you. The weight of him made you shiver again, the heaviness of all that muscle anchoring you down.

Shouto kissed you absolutely boneless into the cushions of his couch, hands wandering everywhere, skimming under your shirt, calluses catching on the fabric of your leggings. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, your nerves singing with pleasure. Shouto seemed to be trying to take his time with you, but you could sense something underneath that, his usual layers of patience eroded.

Feeling brave, you let your hands wander to the buttons of his pants, working them open. Shouto’s breath left him in a hiss as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him hard and hot and velvet smooth in your palm.

“Ah… fffuck, love,” he muttered into your neck. He chased it with the soft scrape of his teeth, groaning when it made your grip tighten on him reflexively.

His hips flexed, sliding him through your fingers, flush and full. Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach, and a hot streak of arousal licked up your spine. Your own hips shifted, lifting up into him, and you realized with a sudden desperation that you wanted him inside you, didn’t want to wait another second.

“Shouto please, please, please,” you found yourself babbling, stroking firmly down the shaft of him.

Shouto’s eyes were dark when they found yours again. “Anything, I would give you anything,” he said, his voice tight.

“I want you inside of me, please,” you said, your face burning with the admission.

The sheer elation flashing across his handsome face quelled any more embarrassment. In what felt like barely a breath, Shouto had you bare to him once more, flinging your leggings and shirt somewhere towards his kitchen. He covered you again, fitting himself between your thighs with another appreciative groan before pressing in.

You were so wild with want that he slid home easily, despite his impressive size. His skin burned hot against yours, and he felt so perfectly right over you, inside of you, that you had to fight down something like a sob.

Shouto looked equally as overwhelmed, staring at your face rapturously. “I have loved you my whole life,” he said, his tone wondering. “You are finally mine.”

Your entire body went hot with his declaration. You had not realized until today that you loved him too. But now that you did, it felt like everything made sense, that all was finally right.

You managed to gasp out as much between Shouto’s thrusts, as his hips bucked into yours, slowly at first, and then faster, more sure. He kissed you everywhere—your face, your neck, your shoulders, layering in soft bites like he could not help himself.

“Say it,” he groaned, mouthing at the underside of your jaw. “Please say it.”

“I love you,” you said. A yelp escaped you when Shouto suddenly seized you around the waist, rolling you on top of him and holding you to him as he levered the two of you upright. The position in his lap only made him sink deeper inside of you, and you hissed with the feeling, your fingernails digging into his back.

“Ah, fuck—Shouto!” you cried.

Shouto’s hands on your waist guided you with an easy strength—your head spun with the reminder of his power, the reminder that you had an alpha—your alpha—inside of you.

“Going to take good care of you,” he panted into your hair, pausing to kiss the shell of your ear even as the snap of his hips undid you. “Going to take such good care of you.”

Your fingers flexed on him, and you could feel your toes curl. You did not know what to do with all of the emotion welling up inside you, the well of your pleasure almost overflowing. He ground up into you, making your eyes nearly roll back in your head, and you fought down a scream when the pad of his thumb pressed to your clit, heightening every sensation.

“Oh Shouto, please—” was all you could manage.

Shouto looked enraptured, drinking in every change in your expression. As you squirmed and writhed under his touch, you felt him start to swell inside of you.

Both apprehension and arousal swirled inside of you, a beta’s body a little less adapted to knotting than an omega’s. But the firm circle Shouto’s thumb was drawing on your clit, and the low murmur of his voice in your ear, began to drown out any other thought.

“I have you, love,” Shouto said. His mouth dragged across your throat, leaving a sucking bruise along the column. Your nails scrabbled at his back as he swelled even further inside of you, starting to catch on your walls and make it harder to press back down on him.

“I have you,” Shouto said again, his voice rough with pleasure. The reassurance that he did, and the knowledge that he was barely managing his own pleasure struck you like a bolt of lightning. Something inside you unraveled and came loose, and you muffled a cry into Shouto’s broad shoulder as your orgasm slammed into you like a tidal wave.

A low swear escaped Shouto, and his knot swelled even further. His hands suddenly seized tight on either side of your waist, holding you down on him as he thrust up into you. You felt a sort of pressure you’d never anticipated, so overwhelming it was nearly painful—but then Shouto’s knot slid into you.

Shouto groaned into your neck, biting down hard. You writhed over him, your pleasure wringing you out until finally you slumped against him, shivering. Shouto eased back, propping himself up on the arm of the couch, you stuck to his chest like a sweat-slicked barnacle.

“That was—so much more intense than I ever imagined,” you said, when you’d recovered your faculty for human language.

You could feel the curve of Shouto’s smile against your neck. “For I, as well,” he said. “Though I had imagined it a great many times—we still have many other fantasies I intend to live out.”

You were embarrassed to feel yourself tighten around him. Shouto hissed, leaning back to pin you with a look—then looked more smug than you’d ever seen him.

“Like that, do you, love?” he asked.

The pet name made your ears heat, and you couldn’t help but pinch him. “You used to be so sweet, when did you get this fresh?” you demanded.

“Fresh is the least of what I intend to get with you,” Shouto informed you seriously. “I take my duties as a child bride very seriously.”

Your jaw dropped open, and you pressed back from him, gasping when it shifted him inside you. “You—! You heard—?”

Shouto’s smile was far too handsome and self-satisfied to be allowed. “That is when I knew I stood a chance.”

Your face burned. You couldn’t believe him. “You’re a menace.”

Shouto leaned into a press a kiss over where he’d sunk his teeth into you, butterfly-light. The touch of his mouth was warm and his campfire scent washed over you, fuzzing your thoughts. His mouth moved up to catch yours, and you let him kiss you until you realized you’d started to squirm in his lap again.

Several minutes later he had you coming on his knot again, locked against him and muffling the sounds of your pleasure into his neck.

He looked, if possible, even more satisfied, and you lifted a hand to thread through the strands of his hair, silky and damp.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you said, several orgasms having made you loose-tongued. You rubbed a strand of his hair between the pads of your fingers.

Shouto turned his head to drop a kiss to the base of your palm. “We have time enough to make you believe it, love.”

Another butterfly took wing in your stomach at the pet name. You wondered if you’d ever get used to hearing him say it.

“I’ll have to figure out my work—I don’t know if they’d let me work remotely all the way from here?” you said, thoughts suddenly shifting. You sort of doubted your company would make the exception for you, and a pang shot through your heart at the idea that you might have to leave Shouto to work in the city on weekdays. At least until you found another job, which might take months to arrange.

You did not want to be separated from him, now that you’d let yourself have him.

A hand caught your chin, thumb smoothing along your jaw. “I do not think you will have enough time,” Shouto said, a slim brow raising slightly. “What with the bookstore opening.”

You stared at him, wondering if you’d just had some sort of auditory hallucination.

“The—what?” you asked.

“The bookstore opening,” Shouto said. His mouth made the shape of the words exactly, and so it could not be that you’d hallucinated. But—

“What bookstore?” you asked.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a deliberately flat line like he was trying not to smile.

“Yours. Downstairs,” he clarified—which did not clarify at all.

Your mouth dropped open against his fingers, your eyebrows shooting for the moon. “My—? Downstairs—?”

Your mind scanned back over the events of the last twenty-four hours, the first time you’d caught sight of the shop downstairs again as you’d followed Shouto home. The way it seemed so well-maintained, the windows glinting crystal-clear in the soft evening light. Your eyes reflexively dipped to the blonde wood of Shouto’s floor, the very same that had been installed across the floor of the shop, and an understanding suddenly dawned on you.

“I remember everything you have ever told me,” Shouto had said when you mentioned you’d been in love with the shop downstairs.

“No way,” was what left your mouth as you glanced back up at Shouto, disbelief rising.

Shouto was watching you carefully, his handsome face serious. “Your name is on the deed.”

A wellspring of emotion rose up inside you like a geyser, and you slammed yourself back into Shouto, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “Shouto—I. You didn’t need to—there’s no way I can accept—this is incredible, you’re incredible—but I’d be taking advantage—I can’t—”

A warm, long-fingered hand slid up your spine to rest on the back of your head, holding you against him. “I have always been yours,” Shouto murmured. “Everything I have has always been yours. If it is too much now, we can wait. But I, and everything I have, will always be yours.”

You blinked, embarrassed to realize you’d started dripping tears into Shouto’s shoulder. Shouto didn’t say anything, fingers petting through your hair as you tried to fight the emotion down.

“I promised to take good care of you, and I intend to,” he said. Pressed against him, you could feel the way the words rumbled in his chest.

You closed your eyes and shoved your face in his neck, letting him hold you to him. Everything about today felt too good to be true, but you knew with absolute certainty that Shouto had always been too good to be true, himself. And yet you’d told him you trusted it, when he said he’d take care of you.

And you did—you realized you would always trust it, trust the beautiful boy you’d known all your life.

“I’ll need to pay you back on your investment,” you said some minutes later, when you finally found your voice again. You leaned back to look Shouto in the face, trying not to be embarrassed about the drying tear tracks.

“There is no need,” he said, eyes finding yours.

You realized you were still in his lap, though his knot had softened, and you thought you might be able to separate now.

But now you had other plans—and an investment you wanted to enthusiastically return.

“I insist,” you said, leaning forward to mouth at Shouto’s neck.

You caught the flash of his eyes widening, and his head fell back as a sharp breath left him. “I—see,” he said, his voice growing rough as you sucked a careful mark into the skin of his shoulder.

You smiled against his skin. “You will,” you promised, feeling bolder than ever. It felt like you were daring to believe it, that you’d found your life mate, that you really got to have him, that he’d loved you as long as he’d lived.

You wanted to return all those years of love, now that you loved him too.

“I’m going to take good care of you too,” you informed Shouto, hips already flexing over his.

You felt him start to grow hard inside of you again, and he turned his head to catch your mouth. You could feel his smile against your lips.

“I trust it,” he said, his voice dropping low.

You smiled too, grinning against your lifemate’s mouth, intent on proving yourself worthy of that trust.

Though perhaps that could wait until you’d delivered some of the many fantasies it sounded like he’d stored up. There was no reason to rush.

You had the rest of your life together, after all.

[hungharrington]

Your last blurb has me thinking of Steve and soft early relationship smut where it’s still fairly new and exciting and he’s just so sweet and wants to be close to you 💔💔

this is basically the premise of a little less conversation BUT it’s also such a good prompt anyways that i wanna write something goofy n domestic hehe <3 u put heartbreak emojis but i’m making this goopy sry! and actually it’s not even soft god i’m sorry MDNI this entire blog is 18+

Steve sinks into you in one slow thrust and makes a noise like he’s been stabbed, his forehead to your collarbone.

For one very long moment, he doesn’t move.

“You… you okay?” You ask, all breathy yourself. Your cunt pulses wildly, eager for him to start moving, for some friction— but you’re worried he’s maybe hurt himself somehow. “Steve?”

“I’m good,” He hisses, voice all tight like he is very much not at all good. It blends away as a husky tone threads through his voice. “God, sorry, you just feel—“

He gives a little rock of his hips, pulling out an inch and thrusting back in and a beautiful moan pulls from his lips. He does it again, pulling out a little further and pushing himself back in to your wet, inviting cunt.

He groans again, “Oh my god, I like you so much.”

You startle a laugh, your arms around his neck sliding down so you can pull his head up a bit. Steve’s flushed and looking sheepish by the time you get him face to face. His hips haven’t stopped moving, still small, perfect thrusts in and out, driving you mad.

“Sorry,” He says again, half panting. “Not the best thing to say the first time we fuck but,” He huffs, a throaty moan slipping out in the middle of the sentence. “It’s true.”

You’re beginning to pant too, all your inhales sounding gaspy and high. Your thighs spread more instinctively, pulling them further back to your chest, letting him get in deeper.

“N-No, it’s good,” You say, smiling a bit as he focuses on your face, his lips parted and pupils blown wide. “I really like you too.”

Your words inspire another moan, particularly loud, and his hips rut into you with more fervor, a soft lewd squelching noise beginning to fill the bedroom. Steve moans shakily, peppering sloppy kisses up the side of your neck.

One hand shifts on your hip, sliding up to press your leg further out and unexpectedly, and there’s an audible pop of a joint cracking. Steve stills instantly, still inside you, as he stares down at your hip.

“Oh my god—”

“No, no, it’s fine!” You hastily interrupt, knowing what he’s thinking. You tug his gaze over to you and away from your leg, seeing the smidge of panic in his eyes. “It just cracks sometimes, you couldn’t know that, it’s fine, it didn’t hurt.”

Steve deflates rapidly, giving a relieved chuckle against your chest where he buries his face. When he speaks, his words are all muffled, “I thought I broke your hip.”

You can’t help it, you laugh a bit at that— imagining his panic at the thought. For the third time, you urge his face up and out of hiding, leaning up to nuzzle against his face.

“Quickest way to end a relationship ever,” He jokes, but you can hear the genuine worry beneath his humour.

“No, no, I’m sorry I should’ve told you,” You murmur tenderly, dropping little kisses along his cheeks and nose. His face blazes hot beneath your ardent affection. “But hey, we’re figuring it out, aren’t we? That’s part of the fun, yeah?”

You use your ankles, crossed over his tailbone, to press him into you and Steve gets the message quickly, starting up his gentle thrusts again with a grunt. The soft noises of sex resume, mixed with your combined low moans. The rhythm from before is easy to slip back into. Your cunt throbs hotly, pleasure starting to drool through your stomach.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes heavily, watching your face closely. “Part of the fun. Fuck, you’re so pretty.”

He says it so sincerely that it makes you gasp, clenching around him and eyes screwing closed for a moment. A low whine crawls out your throat.

“God, fuck you for saying that,” You say, with no heat at all. You can’t open your eyes just yet, you’ll combust if you see how handsome he looks right now.

“Yeah?” Steve huffs, sounding a little smug. Your cunt gushes at the sound of his voice. “Oh, you’re right. Figuring this stuff out is the fun part.”

You whine as he fucks in a little harder, the angle just right to have your gut twisting up in pleasure. Your breath is ragged and you finally open your eyes again, swallowing back another sound at the sight of Steve. Messy haired, pink cheeks, reddened lips. He looks hotter than you’ve ever seen him.

“Shut up and hold my hand,” You say— because two can play that game. It works a charm. You can feel the stutter in his hips, see the ripple on his face, hear the whimper in his throat.

Steve keens, tucking his face down into your neck again. His hand searches the sheets til it finds yours, fingers intertwining before he presses your linked hands into the mattress and ruts into your snug cunt harder and faster, deeper.

“F-Fuck,” He stammers, a moan lilting the word. “I like you so much.”

You can’t even laugh this time round because your mind is starting to melt a little at the edges— but it makes the pleasure all that much better, knowing he means it.

[sincerelyrki]

you don’t look like an angel

being heavens highest angel, lee heeseung was completely and utterly fucked. he’d made the one mistake that could cost him both his wings and his immortality- he had summoned a demon into the most sacred paradise on earth. it was only his luck that it wasn’t just a regular impure demon; no, it was worse. he had summoned a succubus.

paring : virgin!angel!heeseung x succubus!fem!reader

warnings + genre : smut. slightly dubcon (heeseung didn’t know what was happening). corruption. religious guilt. begging. unsafe sex. marking. oral (m). riding. slight degradation. begging. profanity. blood. cumming untouched. demons hiss and purr.

wc : 5.9

a/n : idk what this is but i had to read the entire thing out loud to make sure it sounded right and i think it’s safe to say that this might be one of my favourite works i’ve ever written so far? something about heeseung and corruption…anyways, as always i’d love to hear everyone’s thoughts 🤞

written perm taglist : @vousty @ilololoveyou @moon0fthenight

Heeseung was just finishing his final prayer when it happened, his hands still pressed together at the base of his forehead. Earlier in the day he’d heard about a new prayer, one that was said to be extremely popular with the rising youth. 

It was spoken in another language, one far too complex for Heeseung to understand. But the words were simple, easy to pronounce and fairly similar to a chant he’d heard his mother pray with. 

Due to its simplicity, it allowed more room for error. One small mistake could change the outcome of any prayer spoken through an angel's lips. Their loving prayers were far more powerful than any other beings, their direct connection with the lord strengthening their pleas. 

With the ability to heal an unknown disease with a singular sentence, an angel's voice was the most sought-after remedy.

But as the old saying says, with great power comes great responsibility. 

With a voice as strong as theirs it was bound to be heard. Whether it was heard from the lord or other angels, someone was always listening. 

What Heeseung failed to realize was that the language of his new prayer was the language of the unknown. No living human understood the language, their own interpretations being nowhere near the direct translation.

But like all other sayings, their false words made their way through the clouds. The wind was listening, the echoes of their translations meeting the ears of a few young angels.

They weren’t of the right age to learn about the wind's voice yet, so they did what they thought they had to. They spread the word, the listening angels hearing their prayers. 

It was a cruel game of telephone, the words jumbling together until it was forced to make its own poem. Heeseung just happened to be at the receiving end of one of one.

For a room that was well above the atmosphere, it was oddly humid. The freshwater flowers that thrived in his usual cold room were now completely withered. Their once vibrant petals were now dyed a terrific red, the hue straining their pure white appearance.

Heeseung watched with the utmost confusion as they contorted within seconds, the vapour diffusing into a puddle of red acid that gathered alongside the vase, identical red streams dripping from each individual stamen.

His hand moved on its own, his fingers a hairstring away from the mysterious liquid before a loud voice echoed from the other side of the room. Heeseung’s main light went out, his bedside lamp coming to life on its own. 

“You shouldn’t touch that.” Heeseung jumped in place, his wings springing free from their confinement in his attempt to defend himself. 

He was light on his feet when he spun around, unfortunately for him- he saw nothing but darkness on the other side of his room. Your figure blending right into the background. 

He grew panicked when his hand was met with air when he reached back for his bow, the situation drawing down fast on him. Not only was he stuck in a room with a mysterious creature but he was left defenseless in said room with the mysterious creature.

What were the chances that you were another angel?

“Are you looking for this?” The angel's jaw fell in shock when his missing bow dropped by his feet, the riser snapped clean in half. His heart sank at the sight, pain creeping across his chest. 

His bow was crafted with the finest materials, the limbs harvested from their most sacred willow tree’s aged bark- embezzled with an intricate carving for each of his greatest accomplishments. 

In an instant Heeseung grew nervous, he knew he wasn’t in the presence of an angel. Each angel was sworn by an oath, and the roots of the tree webbed across their every bone, making it impossible for them to harm such a sacred weapon. 

His jaw remained open when you finally revealed yourself, you were the envisionment of sin.

Yep, you definitely aren’t an angel.

Your breasts were held up with the tiniest fabric he’d ever seen, nothing but two small triangles hanging from your shoulders that were attached with a thin knot. The article did nothing to hide your body, everything except for your nipples out for him to see. 

His cheeks grew inflamed by an invisible force pulling his eyes down to follow the curvature of your exposed waist.  A slightly larger triangle sat hugging your hips, the right side of your hips was exposed, the fabric cascading in a diagonal slit towards your left thigh. It took him several seconds after staring at your legs to realize what he was doing. He slapped his right hand over his eyes, lips opening to recite his prayers.

Heeseung felt ashamed of his reaction, as angels weren’t supposed to observe nudity in a sexual manner. He’d never viewed another person's body in the way he did yours and he’d spent many hours aiding the other angels bathe during their sicknesses- this was a whole new territory that he’d never dared to think about. 

You, of course, noticing his ashamed prayers couldn’t help but take offence. Why would he beg for forgiveness after he called out to you? It wasn’t god who he should be worshiping, it should be you. 

“You can’t help your reaction, my body is supposed to make you feel like that.” You humoured him anyways knowing that none of this ashamed shit that he was feeling would matter in an hour. 

Heeseung vigorously shook his head in denial, your words not helping his inner turmoil at all. You were wrong, you had to be. He was supposed to be an angel and angels don’t act upon sin. 

He’d spent his entire childhood learning about each sin, spending hours of his life drowning in the promise of devotion. 

He had been loyal since the day he was born, temptations weren’t even a thought in his head anymore. He was the living epitome of purity. How could he honour his mother if he gave into the word of the demon? 

Heeseung kept his eyes on you whilst he completed his prayers, his final words building a sanctuary around his untainted blood. The blood of a virgin. 

You started your advance with small steps towards him, your bare feet making no sound as you neared him. The closer you got the more potent the blood’s smell became, iron heavy in the air as your body heat drew closer. 

You stopped halfway across the room, your mouth was practically watering by the time you were able to make out the small pool of red, the pretty flowers only making it seem more appetizing. 

“Do angels ever crave blood the way we do?” You knew they didn’t, it was against their entire existence but some sick side of you wanted nothing more than to see the angel’s reaction to your question.

Pretty boys were your weakness and Heeseung was so fucking gorgeous. You grew jealous of your future self, loathing that she got to touch him- to fuck him the way you’re imagining it right now. You couldn’t wait to watch him shake beneath you, begging to whoever was listening for you to stop. 

Heeseung’s mouth dropped in horror, you craved blood? He looked at you like you were insane for your completely valid needs like he couldn’t fathom craving something so inhumane. He wasn’t completely sure if you meant human or animal blood but after seeing the way you looked at him he’d say had a pretty lucky guess. 

“Because I've never craved it more.” Chills went down Heeseung’s spine while he tried reading through your words, were you a vampire who smelled him from Earth? He knew angels smelt the best to them. 

His questions answered themselves through the sudden wave of iron clashing with his sensitive nose. He looked over his shoulder towards the flowers that were now completely drenched. 

“Whose blood is this?” He was barely finding his voice before he forcefully stuttered his final question, his throat burning with a newfound emotion.

Your head cocked to the side while your lips pulled up into a side smirk, your pink tongue quickly coming out to wet them. It was almost an endearing sight, almost. 

Heeseung stumbled back with a small shriek when you suddenly appeared right in front of him, your chest pressing flesh against his for a few seconds too long. 

He watched the way you kept your eyes on him whilst reaching one of your fingers out towards the pool of blood, a gasp crawling up his throat when you brought your fingers to your lips.

You made a show of sticking your tongue out, trailing your finger from the bottom up before you stuck in between your lips. 

You let out a small hum of approval, the sweet taste of his blood tasting better than any you’ve tried before. You finally understood what your friends meant when they swore that a virgin’s blood tasted the best, however, they never got the pleasure of tasting it from an angel. 

“It’s your blood, who else’s would it be?” You watched in amusement as the angel’s face blanched, his wings twitching behind his back as he attempted to curl into himself. ‘Cute’, you hummed to yourself as you mentally took a shot at this moment. If there was one rule about angles that every species seemed to agree on was that angels have always been beautiful. But there was something about this specific one that felt so different. It could’ve been the fact that he was untouched, or it could’ve been the way his fear shone so obviously in his eyes that turned you on so fucking much. 

Typically angels smelled of a plethora of flowers, gardens growing from their untainted hands. Usually, the scent bothered you, your body being much more used to the fruit-like and sensual scents that the demons claimed as their own. 

Many angels assumed that demons would smell of burnt flesh and plied wood and sometimes they definitely weren’t wrong. But most smelled like you- after all, you needed to smell as good as you looked. No one wants to fuck someone who smells bad, even demons had class. 

“What are you?” Heeseung questioned, his wings still pulled behind his back. Even though he knew you weren’t an angel, he still had his doubts. Demon wasn't even a word in his vocabulary, it was one of the few words that were forbidden to be spoken in heaven. Sure, you had wings and the same flawless skin he sported but your wings… they couldn’t be any more different. 

Your wings were almost double his size and they appeared much more feathered, looking as if they’d been plucked from the most gracious birds and dipped into the darkest ink, black and red sunsets carving up each intricate row of feathers. 

He just never expected you to become his beautiful devastation. 

You ignored his question and continued observing the way his body reacted to you. His smell quickly became addictive, your adulterated temperament wearing thin the longer he lingered in your senses. 

“What do you want me to be?” You purred out in your most seductive tone. While waiting for his response you took it upon yourself to move closer to him, your steps much less hesitant than earlier. 

There was no denying that the man before you was truly captivating but there was something else that caught your attention much faster. His pearlescent wings were practically glowing in the dark, a layer of pale blue surrounding the smoothed edges. Which, after thinking about it for a few seconds didn’t make very much sense to you since the angels tended to constantly stay in the light. 

“An angel?” You made a sound of disgust at his disrespectful words, you? An angel? Honestly, you’d rather be a troll which says a lot considering their reputation. 

“I’ll be your angel if it helps?” Heeseung tried hiding his very evident fluster by attempting to turn away from your vision but when he tried to move, he couldn’t. 

You giggled out loud watching the panic spread throughout his face, your mind fogging with all the ways you could use him whilst he’s in this state. There was something so satisfying about having complete control over another person's body, whether it’s through your mind or actions. 

“Aw, what happened?” You cooed, acting dumb has always been one of your strong forts. It came in useful at times like this, the ability to feign innocence with a singular pout. 

Heeseung, unfortunately for him, fell right into your trap. He was naive enough to believe that you had nothing to do with his state, which is way beyond you. It would’ve been obvious to anyone else that you were controlling him but perhaps angels thought differently.

“I can’t move.” Heeseung nearly screamed when your hand pressed on the spot where his heart lay beneath his chest, his heart thundering louder than before. It was only racing because he was scared, there’s no way your touch was affecting him. Angels don't feel lust. 

Lust. The definition is described as a “disordered desire for inordinate enjoyment of pleasure.” Heeseung lived by the word of the lord. He’d spent his entire life bending backwards to live by the commandments that were shoved down his throat, his lungs choking against the words bubbling to come out. 

It wasn’t hard to drown into the mold that’s been made to best fit him but it was nearly impossible to escape. He thought he was fine in this confined space, lonely sure, but free of sin. He was accepted by the lord and that’s all that he’s ever wanted.

But he was made for sin because he was made for you. 

“Then I guess I'll have to take care of you. I can’t leave you here all alone, not when you’re this vulnerable.” Poison disguised as worry spilled from your lips and slipped through Heeseung’s mind. 

Your words drew more than reassurance through Heeseung, it drew guilt. Guilt for doubting your intentions, for believing that you could’ve been here to harm him. He felt so wronged for you, you must’ve been so angry at him. But still, you offered your help. Maybe he’d slip you into his nightly prayers, thanking the lord for gracing him with your presence. 

All the thoughts frozen when your hand touched the edge of his wing, his body electrified with a foreign feeling. No one else has ever touched his wings before, it was an action that was far too intimate to allow anyone else to try. 

He knew his wings were sensitive but he never knew they were this bad. His wing twitched under your touch, pushing itself closer to your hand. 

You watched in amazement as his wings awoke from their state, your touch bringing them to life. You never controlled his wings, the action far too cruel for even a demon to pull. 

You tested the touch again, pressing your palm flat against the parts that were attached to his spine. They fluttered again, a brighter light emitting from the edges, oh. His wings don’t always glow, they won’t glow when they’re being stimulated.

Your wing's nerves were linked to the ones that spread across your pelvis and down. You’d witnessed many demons talking about using it as a pleasurable advantage. Succubus was seen as a sex symbol, so obviously their experience matched the description. 

But you’d never gotten the chance to test the theory for yourself. Now that you have you weren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to stop. 

Without Heeseung’s knowledge, his cock jumped with each touch. It wasn’t that he was aroused, just overstimulated. He loud out a quiet whine, one that stopped as soon as it came. To you, he was so fucking pathetic. Whining after getting touched twice? But just as pathetic as he was, he was hypnotic. 

“Sh, I’m helping you in the best way I know.” You shushed his whines before you moved to stand in front of him, pressing your chest against his. Heeseung wasn’t sure what you were doing when you did that but then something surprising happened.

Your chest began letting out these small vibrations. Your eyes stared up into his whole you enhanced the force, your purrs reaching your throat. 

He was so pretty standing all pliant, unmoving as you controlled his body. The purrs came out of nowhere, the sudden affection catching you off guard. But you soon appreciated it, Heeseung deserved only the best.

It was at this moment that you decided that you wanted to keep him. There was no way in heaven or hell that you’d let anyone take him away from you, you’d let the world burn before a singular finger touched his- your- skin. From this second on he belonged to you, wholly and completely. 

You’d mark him after mating, your gums were already aching at the thought. As a demon, you could mate however many times you wanted. But you could only have one mate, your bite would solidify the union. 

But for now, you just returned your hands back to his wings. And as expected, he choked out another whimper, his mouth gaping open at the liquid heat gathering in his stomach. 

“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” Heeseung, thinking he was still sin-free, nodded his head. He adored it. 

You let out a cat-ish grin, your pointed canines poking from beneath your top lip. Heeseung knew of only two species who had pointed canines but only one had retractable ones. 

You were a demon. 

It didn’t scare him as much as he thought it would, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t say an extra prayer in the morning. 

And like always, you could tell that he had found out. “I’m a succubus, you summoned me.” Through Heeseung’s cloud of pleasure, he couldn’t make himself question you. Yeah sure, he totally summoned you. He’d believe anything you said as long as you keep making him feel like this.

His head flew back when your hand touched a specific spot on his wings, the only bare spot.

For both angels and demons alike there was a singular spot on the top corner of the right wing. It was bare of any feather, it was strictly skin. There was a small string of skin that held the strongest nerve in your entire body. 

The nerve was used for connections, it was what allowed them to converse with the wind. But it wasn’t until now that you both learned that it was much more because the second you touched it, you felt him.

You felt his every emotion, the warmth in his stomach, and the pounding of your cunt. 

It all happened too fast, gone before you could relish in it. But if you allowed it for now, there would be many other opportunities for you to test out the connection. 

After all, Heeseung would become yours for eternity. 

Your mouth widened in amazement as Heeseung came untouched, his mouth opening with zero sound coming out. You weren’t even sure if he knew what was happening, it made it all more enjoyable for you. 

“You came untouched?” It was a rhetorical question but still, Heeseung had no idea what you were talking about. All he knew was that there was a euphoric feeling rushing throughout his body, he’d never felt more alive than at this moment. 

All he wanted was to feel it again and again, uncaring about what you tabled it as. He didn’t know he could feel this good without sinning, he honestly couldn’t wait to tell his friends.

If only you could hear his thoughts, you’d bathe in them forever. It was cute how Heeseung thought that he was still sin-free, not knowing that he’d committed one of the worst ones yet.

The feeling faded away after a few more seconds, his mind clearing as his consciousness rushed back. He was now much more aware than before and finally noticed a new detail.

You noticed the way he was trying to look down and decided to be a bit kinder, allowing his head to move on its own. Heeseung didn’t seem to notice that he now had full control of his neck, all he saw was the giant wet patch on his bottoms. 

It was also now when he noticed he was crying, his tears making smaller marks around his wetness. 

“What is-“ He was cut off by your hand grabbing his chin, pulling his confused eyes away from his soiled pants. 

“I’ll make you a deal, hm?” Heeseung nodded through his crocodile tears, his puffy cheeks stained with his fallen tears. You gave Heeseung a small smile, making a point to soften your eyes to appear more trusting. 

“I’ll help you out if you promise to… I can’t say it, I know you’ll say no.” You knew how to play your cards with a man who was desperate enough to do anything. 

“Please, I’ll do anything!” Heeseung didn’t know a thing about being manipulated. It was a concept that didn’t exist in his world. Or maybe it did but was disguised as something much less sinister. 

“Do you promise?” A hiss. All it took for Heeseung to doubt himself once again was the small hiss that made its way through your throat. It sounded far less human than he was comfortable with, but he trusted you, did he not? 

The lord swore forgiveness to everyone who’s wronged him, why wouldn’t Heeseung do the same? 

“Anything, please I promise! J- just help me.” An angel's promise. It was the only thing you needed to know that you finally had him. 

The only other thing that every species knew about angels, was that they could never break a promise. It was the greatest sin of all, a betrayal that wasn’t worth forgiving. No one, not even the lord, forgave promises. It was the highest honour an angel could give, their promise. 

Heeseung knew that he couldn’t go back and undo what had been done, to take back the words that were spoken in a sense of urgency. And he didn’t really know if he wanted to, not when he was finally able to move his arms.

“Sit on the bed.” Heeseung’s legs moved under your command, the promise allowing you to control his every move. What he didn’t know was that you didn’t need his word to control him, it was part of your demon abilities. 

He had no choice but to comply with what you said, he wasn’t labelled heaven's highest angel for no reason. 

You weren’t completely sure where to start because usually you just did whatever you wanted, uncaring about the other person. All the other people who’d summoned you had already been asleep when you arrived and stayed asleep the entire time. Their mortal minds were far too weak to handle the pheromones releasing from your body, even the other supernatural species couldn’t handle it. 

“Mate me.” It was easier to get straight to the point, there was no need for any foreplay at this stage. The connection that you’d made with him was enough to prepare you for him, it was in your dna. 

Heeseung on the other hand, didn’t take it as well. He denied it right away, his head practically exploding at your words. Mate you? The lord would never forgive him, he’d be breaking his promise to him. 

Promise after promise, it was all Heeseung was good for. He’d promised his life away, his celibacy. He’d be banned from heaven, shunned of his wings. He’s already made the grave mistake of bringing you here, but this? This would cost him everything, his entire life. 

But still, you made him feel alive. You made him realize that he’d never felt anything before- not even joy. He’d been a cast of a person who he was forced to be, who even was he anyway?

A follower. And that’s all he’ll ever be for the rest of his life. He’s never hated anymore more than how much he hates you for making him come to terms with his life. 

It was his prayers that did this, why would the lord give you him if it wasn’t supposed to happen? You were supposed to be here, the lord approved of you. Why else would you come? It had to be what was happening, Heeseung was finally allowed a pass to be the person he’d locked away many lifetimes ago. 

But it stung, deep. His guilt came out in a wail of tears, angry fists banging against the bed beside him. His tormented thoughts roared with life, he was finally letting go. 

Fuck the commandments, fuck his promises, and he only hoped the lord would let him fuck you. 

And so with a wave of fresh tears and forgotten fears, he did what you said. He stood from his spot, your mind open and free of the handles you had strapped to his wrists. 

He’d pulled his pants down in one yank, his underwear pulling down with them. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he was alive. alive. Lee Heeseung was finally alive. 

The air smelt different, curtsey to your pheromones. Your hands felt rougher when they met his now bare chest, the bed feeling softer as his wings cushioned his fall. 

His head was clear when he felt your hand grab his cock, his heart void of guilt when he felt your mouth wrap around him.

But as the circle goes, it comes back around. 

Knowing that other men enjoyed thinking that they’re too big for you, you fake choked on him. Your eyes filled with fake tears as you pretended to gasp for air. Your chest heaved at an uncontrollable speed, fingers numbing at the thought of making him feel good.

Sex came naturally to Heeseung, which was something the two of you didn’t expect. His hands pulled your head back toward where he needed you the most, his thumb pulling your lips apart before he pushed you down to suction around him.

“God- you feel so fucking good.” He doesn’t even recognize himself anymore, his mind too full with the feeling of you to realize that he’d spoken the lord's name in vain. 

He wasn’t just betraying himself, he was giving up heaven. He'd give it away a million times more if it meant that he’d spent his life with you. Your name was the only one rushing from his mouth, the only one getting worshiped as your tongue wrapped around his bulbous tip. 

You used your tongue to trace circles around the small slit at the top of his cock, collecting everything he was giving to you. He tasted so sweet, nothing like anything you’ve tasted before. 

He didn’t warn you before filling your mouth, his amateur thrusts being overshadowed by your much more experienced lick.

You’d pulled away from him after holding him in your mouth, waiting to feel him soften before pulling him off. Heeseung’s head tilted to the side in confusion when you opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue. 

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be seeing- oh…

You felt a surge of confidence rushes through your body at the feeling of him hardening against your hands. “Already? you’re so needy.” 

You rose to a stand, grabbing his hands to pull him to stand instead. All it took was a snap of fingers for your clothes to be gone, leaving you completely nude. 

Heeseung felt like every moment of his life had led up to this, you were his final destination. Without him noticing, he whispered one final prayer. Right when he went to recite the trinitarian formula, he noticed.  

Guilt was unforgiving but so was hesitation. He hesitated to give in earlier, but now? 

“Are you ready?” Heeseung didn’t recognize his voice anymore, a much deeper one coming out. His hands moved on their own when he pulled your legs around his waist, pushing his hips forward until his cock pressed against your lips. 

You nodded once, pushing your legs further apart as you waited for him to make the move. He looked down at you cunt in appreciation, the lord really did take his time creating you. It’s too bad that his favourite creation was going to ruin it.

Heeseung wrapped his hand around his base before giving an experimental squeeze. Heeseung had never touched himself before today, having no idea what was supposed to feel good. 

He ignored his embarrassing inexperience and used his other hand to open you up for him. His mouth watered at the sight of your bare in front of him, you looked so welcoming. 

He tried not to stare for too long because he knew that if he did he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from using his mouth first. But he’d much rather finish it all off by licking you clean, drinking everything you have to offer. 

He tapped the head of his cock against you, watching from under his eyebrows at how you reacted. From the way your hips pushed up, he knew exactly where to touch you. 

He kept his head pressed against you as he pushed down, stopping once he reached your entrance. This was the moment that would change his entire life, he was never going to be the same way he was before. 

And when he finally pushed in, his head fell forward with a loud moan. The blood of the virgin became the blood of the demon, he was no longer considered an angel in the lord's eyes. 

Your hands grabbed his biceps as he pushed in deep, his cock hitting places you’ve never felt before.  He sped up, his hips slamming against yours over and over as he grew into a routine. 

You obviously liked the way he was moving if your moans meant anything. 

“Bring me to heaven.” You managed to plead through your now real choked gasps. Your head was filled with explosions of colours, real pleasure rushing through your blood. His big cock felt too good pushing against your gummy walls, each curve of him fitting perfectly in your crevices. He was made for you. 

Heeseung sucked in a harsh breath, a teasing smile growing on his opened mouth. His eyes were now open, staring into your own as he ravished your body for what it was. 

“But you’re a demon, and we’re already here…” He let out a small grunt at his harder thrust, his eyes closing once again. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d reached this specific spot in your body, but he was certain that once he found it again he wouldn’t let it go. 

“Not that heaven-” your smile matched his as your body burned with the same flame, your impurities mixing with his. You shakily raised one of your hands up towards his face, your fingers wrapped around his jaw as you forced his face close to yours. 

His eyes opened once again, his irises now completely black as he let himself fall into the pit of pleasure. “Your heaven” Your back arched with a moan while your legs tightened around his waist.

Heeseung swore he was in love. With you, and the feeling of you. Nothing could turn him back now. He pulled your legs over his shoulder, his chest pushing away from yours as he pushed all his weight into his legs and hips. 

He pressed kiss after kiss against your ankles, biting down to create indents across your calves. He knew this angle hit deeper into you because finally, he felt that spot and and over.

Both your volumes rose into near screams when you both reached your peaks. Without thinking twice Heeseunf pressed your knees flat to your chest, his neck stretching out to bite against yours. 

Your blood filled his mouth 

Angels too sealed the mating process with a bite, but it was different. The magic was stored in each individual tooth. The pockets of their poison were located in their mamelons. And so when the angel bites into their mate, the pockets open into small needles. Three sharp needles accompanied each tooth, it was the only part of the tooth that got pushed through the skin. 

Heeseung wasn’t lying when he mentioned not craving blood, but now? His arms shook when had to pull himself away from you, the desire to drink from his new mate stronger than anything. “Thank god-“ He didn’t know what he was thanking anyone for, but he needed something to fall back on. It just happened to be the roots that caught him. 

Your broken moans were drowned out by your returning purrs, your eyes white as they rolled into the back of your head. Holy fucking shit, Heeseung marked you first?

Without allowing Heeseung to pull out you flipped him over, his back flat against the bed while you sat flush against him. He looked up through tired eyes, his mind coming back to normal as he softened inside of you. 

“Don’t thank god, he had nothing to do with this.” You growled at the angel before you released more pheromones. They seemed to do their job as he was hard again within seconds. 

You felt him throb inside of you before you rose the tiniest bit, dropping down right away.  Heeseung’s hands gripped your ass, helping your waist move forward and back with each raise and fall. 

His hips buckled to meet yours, loud slaps echoing across the room as you sunk into him over and over. Heeseung forced his head up enough to look at where the two of you were connected and god, the sight didn’t fail. 

There was a thick ring of cum formed around his base, sticky strings connecting the two of you with every new raise. He’d almost come on the spot once again, his body way more sensitive than yours due to his inexperience. 

You saw the way his face scrunched up and automatically knew that he was trying not to cum. You used your mental hold on him to remove his hands from you and pinned them by his head. 

His eyes were wide when they met yours again. He felt his heart stutter at the glare on your face. Has he done something wrong? Is he not pleasing you correctly? 

“Don’t keep anything away from me, give it all to me.” Your hips momentarily stopped, only his tip remaining in as you stared down at him. 

“Breed me.” Your quiet whisper caused an eruption of pleasure to burst through his chest. He had you lying back on your back in seconds, his instincts putting you into the mating press. 

“Don’t start what you can’t end.” He didn’t say more before he pushed into you once again. He leaned his head down to meet yours, his lips pulling your bottom one between his teeth.

He gently tugged at it once before he forced his tongue between your lips, your mouth tasting of his earlier release. “You don’t look like an angel,” He ignored the harsh look you threw at him, giving you a small smile before he pressed his lips against your pulse point. 

He breathed in a deep inhale, his body welcoming your new scent, one that was mixed with his. He bit the skin twice, the second much harder than the first before he soothed the wound with his tongue. 

He trailed small kisses up your neck, all the day until he reached your ear. He pulled your earlobe between his teeth before placing a gentle kiss against it. “But you definitely taste like one.”

[monzabee]

pon de replay - cl16 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader 

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: smuttt, nothing but pure filth, one might even say it is pwp, unprotected sex (cover your willy don’t be silly), oral (f receiving), kinda exhibitionism?, public sex, jealous charles, possessive charles, carlos being a little shit because he’s bored, poor lando, not even sure if i fulfilled the request or not, minors dni!! 

Request: “HELLOOOO! i have an idea and you don’t have to write it but it’s been rattling around in my brain and im never gonna write it (i constantly have way too many ideas to write them fr) myself so i figured i’d send it to you cause you’ve kinda restored my F1 phase with your work. basically, reader being very goofy, funny, and maybe a little bit too loud at times. just like a very silly and bubbly personality and she hangs out with some of the f1 boys (maybe because she’s famous in her own right like a dancer or something) so naturally EVERYONE ships her with lando. like hardcore, almost as bad as one direction fans ships (iykyk), and it sorta makes sense cause when they’re together it’s pure and utter chaos and they both express themselves with physical touch B U T ! she’s actually with charles. to her it makes total sense to be with charles instead of lando cause while lando is definitely attractive he’s too much like her and it’d be like dating herself whereas charles brings out a new calm side to her and she can bring out a goofier side to him. opposites attract type shit😭. maybe a little angst cause charles hates seeing all the edits and also feels a little insecure cause lando and reader DO make sense together in his mind so why’d you pick him instead? then like soft fluff/smut reassurance that charles is literally the man of her dreams, a literal fucking prince, and the best person she’s ever been with. ANYWAYS, im rambling! again, you don’t have to write this if you don’t connect with it or don’t have time i just needed an outlet SOMEWHERE for all the F1 brain rot.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i first of all want to start by saying that i’m very sorry that this isn’t exactly like the request, like at all, but it took me a criminal amount of time to actually get this finished so we’re not going to focus on that. okay? okay, great!! in all and all it was actually quite fun to work on this at the beginning, it was just kinda hard for some reason to work on the actual smut part, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Charles wouldn’t call himself a possessive person, not a chance. He might be ambitious, and competitive, but possessive? That, he is not. He’s never been the type of get jealous of his partner’s friends, whether male or female, because he likes to think that he is mature enough to understand that people have friends. It’s that simple. And he is most definitely not the type of person to comment on what you wear when you’re going out, he is just not that guy. He’s fairly certain that his mother would materialise out of thin air and give him a good beating if he were to do that. So when you asked him about the dress you have on earlier before you left his apartment, the one that clings to your body so tightly that he can practically make out the outline of your tits from across the room? He just smiled and told you to have fun tonight – because he’s there to make sure you’re not put off by anyone staring at you in it.

So yeah. He’s not usually the type to let the jealousy take over his ability to think things out rationally, but when his girlfriend is dancing her heart away in the middle of the dance floor while every red-blooded men watch her with the same look in their eyes? Yeah, it’s not easy to keep his emotions in check at the moment given the circumstances. And it’s not that he even intends to pout like a petulant child at the bar, making sure to keep an eye on you, it’s just that he is an expressive person and his face reflects what he’s feeling that well. Totally because of that. It’s scary how utterly focused he is on you, watching your every move to make sure no one is bothering you, though you don’t seem to be in need of his help as he watches you dance with one of the girls you met when you first arrived to the club – and with Lando, though he tries not to focus on that part too much.

It's fine, though, he tries to make himself believe, it’s fine as long as you’re having fun. Though that doesn’t necessarily stop him from throwing daggers into Lando’s direction as covertly as he can. The way he has a friendly arm around you is driving him crazy, and he is not above stomping over there to pull you under his arm, drag you to the nearest bathroom and– Well, maybe he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself just yet.

“They look good together, no?” He hears someone ask him from the side. He realises it is his teammate when he turns to give the person a glare.

“Who?” He asks, deciding to play dumb, but he can’t help himself as he makes a face while focusing his gaze back on you.

“You know who I’m talking about, cabrón!” Carlos exclaims, laughing as he pats him on the back and points to the two of you with a tilt of his head, “I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it rather than sulking around like a geriatric toddler.”

If he would have turned around any faster, Charles is sure his neck would actually, possibly, break. “What?” he spits out as he turns around, “Do you mean her and Lando?”

Carlos gives his teammate a confused look, “Yes,” he drawls out, “you didn’t know he had a crush on her? I thought the entire paddock knew!” Charles feels a surge of disbelief and a tinge of anger bubbling within him.

He wouldn't call it possessiveness, more like a primal instinct to protect what's his. But this revelation catches him off guard, shattering his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance. With doing his best to keep calm under the situation, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not making things up? I feel like you’re misreading the situation here.”

That receives another confused look from his teammate, and though Charles is quite the perceptive person, he misses Carlos starting to put the pieces together – thanks to his overreaction. “I guess so,” Carlos mumbles, loud enough for Charles to hear him in the loud club, “he’s always talking about her, though. The way she smiles, her hair, her dresses; did you know he even went to see one of her performances in Vegas?” Carlos feels bad, really, but there is also something so fulfilling in confirming his theories as he watches his teammate’s eyes bulge out at the mention of one of your dance shows in Vegas. Because Charles knows what those entail.

“I-in Vegas?” He stutters out, eyes moving to focus on your dancing figure again. And at that moment, he absolutely hates Lando. He hates him for having his arms around you, he hates him for dancing with you to the beat in a rhythm he never seems to be able to keep up with, he hates him for the way everybody seems to think the two of you seem to make a handsome couple, and he absolutely hates him for the way he makes you smile.

Charles Leclerc is not a possessive guy – until it comes to you, that is.

“Charles?” He hears Carlos call out his name, but he’s out of his seat long before he can hear the end of his sentence. He doesn’t mean to stomp across the dance floor to get to you. He really doesn’t. He also doesn’t mean to grab you by your arm and put a pause on your fun. And the smile you give him and the way you wrap your arms around his neck while you call him ‘Charlie’? Makes his heart stutter in a way that makes him forget why he ever came over in this first place. Because this should be normal – you, having male friends and spending time with them should not make him insecure. He should be fine with you and Lando spending time together because you both love the hustle and bustle of a club. But at that moment, he doesn’t care about what should be normal, no. He cares about the fact that someone other than him has managed to make you smile, and that he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who should be on the receiving end of all your smiles.

So when he drags you away from the dancefloor (and Lando, for that matter), he doesn’t listen to your objections. He doesn’t care about the way Carlos is watching from his place from the bar, putting all the pieces together as he shares a look with Lando. And he most definitely doesn’t care about the fact that he’s about to fuck you in the club’s bathroom. Well, maybe he does care about that last part. “Charlie,” you whine, your voice clearly scratched from shouting along the lyrics of the songs playing throughout the night, and he doesn’t miss the way you slur his name ever so slightly – which tells him that you had at least two drinks. Cosmopolitans, if he had to guess. “Pleaaase,” you drag out the word, pulling on his shirt to get his attention, “they are playing my song!”

His first mistake is to look at you, because the way your lips form a pout and the way you’re giving him puppy dog eyes is usually strong enough for him to give in. Though this is no usual situation. So instead of moving the two of you back to the dancefloor, he grabs you by your cheeks and presses his lips against you. In the middle of the club, where everybody can see him doing it. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, and you’re definitely out of breath when he does move away. Cosmopolitans, he realises after tasting you. You've had cosmopolitans. Then, he just gives you a look, threads his fingers through yours and raises an eyebrow. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl and come with me now, or should I do this the hard way and just carry you on my shoulder?”

If this was any other situation, you would totally say something bratty back. Hell, you might have actually said something rude if it meant him being rough with you, maybe spanking you a few times just enough times for you to learn your lesson. But you understand that this is no ordinary situation from his voice and the expression on his face. Charles is like that, you suppose. He’s an open book – meaning that it is very easy to understand what kind of a mood he’s in just by looking at his face, or listening to the undertone of his voice. And right now? Right now you know he’s pissed. You don’t necessarily know what you did, nor do you care. Mainly because all you want to do is make him feel better simply because of the reason that he is one of those people who’s just meant to smile at all times, not frown.

And so you nod gingerly, squeaking out a thimble, “Yes.” You finally meet his eyes as you wrap yourself around his arm, pushing yourself closer to him in the crowded club. “I’ll be good.”

This thumb does that thing where he caresses your knuckle, and he starts moving you through the crowd again. This time, however, you try to stick to him by matching the speed of his steps rather than trying to stay back. You told him you’d be good, you intend to keep your promise. He’s quiet all the way to the bathroom, and he’s quiet when he motions you to get inside, and he’s quiet when he closes to door and promptly locks it behind your back. You think for a moment you’re just there for a chat, maybe about that something you might’ve done, but Charles takes you by surprise as he grabs your waist and pushes you against the door, causing your eyes to widen with realisation of what you’re about to do in that bathroom.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” You try to ask, but he shuts you up with another kiss. And if you thought the previous kiss was aggressive, this one absolutely consumes you. He doesn’t even give you a fighting chance as his tongue quickly dominates yours, and he is relentless as he nips at your lower lip. You can’t help the mortifying moan that leaves your lips, and you push him away to inhale deeply. “What has gotten into you?” You ask, eyes wide due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “What happened?”

“You, happened.” He growls. And by that, you mean that he actually growls. His voice is a few octaves deeper than his usual voice, and you can see that he’s snappy. There is this dark look in his eyes that would otherwise scare you if you didn’t know him, but you do. Because he’s your Charles.

And you know this because the quickly leans into your touch when you bring one of your hands up to cup his cheek, giving him a confused look. “Did I do something?” You ask, voice soft amidst the humid bathroom. “Oh my god, is it my dress? Is it too short?” Your eyebrows draw closer as you start properly spiralling. “I knew I should’ve worn the shorts, why didn’t you say something?”

Your mini monologue about your party attire must have struck a chord because Charles suddenly exhales heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he closes his eyes. “No, non, it's not about the fucking dress,” he lashes out, his voice strained, and lace with something else that you can’t quite catch. “I don’t care what you wear, though I do appreciate the easy access.”

“Easy access?” You repeat, testing out the words as you come to a realisation. “What?” You exclaim, quickly taking your hand away from his face to lightly slap at his chest. “No! We are definitely not doing that here, are you out of your mind? You pulled me away because you can’t keep it in your pants until we’re home?”

“And why not?” He asks, and this time, you can see the unbridled rage behind his look. “Would you rather go back to Lando out there? You looked quite happy in his arms after all.”

And the realisation dawns on you right then and there. That this isn’t about your choice of dress for the evening, no. It is about Lando. Though you don’t get that part, since he’s both of your friend, so why is Charles being like this? And you would ask him, of course. But the look he gives you indicates that he doesn’t want to be tested in that exact moment.

So instead, you attempt to calm him down, by dragging your hand gently down his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. He is like that, your Charles, sometimes he just wants to be held to see reason. “Charlie,” you call out, voice soft as you give him a pleading look, “why don’t you tell me what this is about, hm?”

You think he’s going to finally give in for a moment, but then he just gives you a blank stare. “I don’t want to talk,” he grunts, pulling you flush against him by the hands he has on your waist. His lips are on your neck faster than you can say anything, working his way towards your collarbones. The faint whimpers that come out of your lips bring a small smile to his lips knowing that he’s the one causing them, not Lando or any other guy.

“Charles,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trail along your skin. Despite the confusion and frustration swirling within you, you can't deny the way his touch ignites a fire deep within you, consuming your thoughts and leaving you breathless with desire. But as much as you crave his touch, you know that there are unresolved issues between you, issues that need to be addressed before you can fully give yourself to him in this moment. “Charlie,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper as you gently push against his chest, urging him to stop. “Stop, we need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” He asks, all breathy and with a wild look in his eyes. You can see that he’s trying to hold himself back, but at the same time his hands keep moving on your body in a way that makes you want to let him lose control and perhaps even join him. He successfully ignores your attempts at pushing him away, sliding his hands down on your body to grab the hem of your dress, clenching the material in his hand while dragging it upwards on your thighs until he reaches the soft skin of your stomach. “I have a thing in mind which might help me feel better.” Unable to take your eyes off of him, you take a stuttered breath as you watch him slowly get down on his knees, his lips pressing kisses starting form your sternum continuing down your body over your dress until you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your stomach. His kisses stop once he’s met with the top lining of your underwear, looking at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes as he nips at the nimble lace adorning the top. You call out his name in a weak whimper – though it is not clear to you, nor him, whether you’re asking him to stop or go on. Charles decides to go with the latter. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You don’t really need his reminder, you realise, but it is a welcome one. Your cheeks blush even further when you feel his gaze on you as he lowers his face towards your core, leaving a sweet kiss onto your clit through the fabric of your thong. Suddenly, you want nothing more than to just rip to whole thing apart so there is nothing separating you from him, but you know the game, and you especially know that the ending is sweeter than what you could ever imagine at that moment. And so you wait – you wait until he eventually makes his move and gives your slit a generous lick through the fabric. Watching you is equal parts thrilling and painful, mainly because he wants to drag out his teasing as long as possible just to see you falling apart for him. It’s second nature to you, the way your hand threads through his hair to move him the way you want to, but it is of course not an option because it’s Charles who is in charge.

He makes this known by the way he pulls away, ignoring the way your hands scramble to guide him back to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin of your thigh in a warning manner, pulling a whine from your lips as he fixes you with a look, “You’re not in control tonight, mon bijou, I’ll stop if you try to take over. You got that?” It’s sobering to see him take control in such a way, you sweet little Charles. Usually, he has no problem just laying back and letting you take all the control, or even just making you believe you do. But now? With the way he’s looking at you with such hunger? You know you’d be soaking through your underwear if you weren’t so wet for him already. All you can do is offer him a meek nod, with your lips hanging open in shock, but he is not satisfied with your answer. No, he needs to hear you say the words. So, being the initiative person that he his, he tips at your skin again, this time earning himself a whimper along a grumble about how he’s being unreasonable. He isn’t, but that’s a topic to discuss another time, he decides. “I said, you got that?”

“Yes! Fine, yes!” You whine, grabbing your dress even tighter with your fist that isn’t buried in his hair, “Please just make me come.”

“See?” He asks, flashing you a sweet smile as he lowers his face back onto where you need him the most, “It wasn’t that hard now, is it?” The grumble about how he’s about to be the hard one, makes him chuckle to himself, the rumbling from it making you moan his name as he finally gives you what you want. His tongue works fast as he laps on the wetness through your underwear, soaking the material even more without a care in the world. If you weren’t wet before, you’re sure you’re definitely wet as he drags his tongue through your slit and back onto your clit to suck it through the fabric, causing you to let out a string of moans, each getting considerably louder as he works on your cunt.

The breath is knocked out of your lungs as the moments pass, as you become closer and closer to your impending release. You don’t even notice the fact that you’ve started to move your hips to match the rythym of his tongue, seeking something more to make you tip over the edge. You’re also very aware of the fact that Charles is letting you what you want to do, and though you’re scared out of you midn that he’ll stop like he threatened to do before, the little nod he gives you when you give him a pleading look assures you that he also wants you to come undone on his face.

Or so you’ve thought.

Because he knows your body so well that jus as you’re about to come he pulls back, leaving you high and dry, and even has the nerve to chuckle when he hears his name coming out of your mouth in a high pitched whine. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost miss the way he gently grabs your hands and removes them from his hair, pinning them above you and pushing you against the wall. “Why?” You whine, lips pushed out in a pout as your voice gets gradually whinier, “I was so close, Charles.”

“Oh, baby,” he cooes, “I know you were, I could feel it too.” He starts peppering your feverish skin with kisses, as if to say sorry for leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, and you find yourself arching your neck to expose more of your skin to his skillfull lips. You should stop him, some part of you screams to you in your head, because with the way he’s disguising the fact that he’s marking you with hickeys, but you don’t care at that moment. Your every breath and moan seem to motivate him to work faster, and harder, and when he eventually pulls back to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he gives you an eyeing down, taking in how breathless you look. “Don’t worry, mon bijou, I’ll fuck you now, okay?”

You don’t even realise the nod you give him, too lost in his eyes to put words together to form a proper sentence. He’s gentle with you as he lets go of your hands and positions you the way he wants. With one of your legs wrapped around his hip he has better access to your soaked underwear, his fingers working quickly to pulling it aside. You don’t know when he managed to get himself free from his pants and underwear, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his cock circling your clit. “Please, please, please,” your voice cracks as you frantically beg him to do something more. You’d love nothing more than to scold him for the way he shushes you condescendingly, but any complaint you had evaporates when you feel him nudge your entrance. “Please,” you breathe out again, giving him pleading looks as you try to pull him closer somehow, “You promised me you’d fuck me.”

That manages to pull out a beathy chuckle for him, and as if he’s trying to console you, you feel his fingers gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Why don’t you do it yourself, hm?” A grin widens on his lips when you give him a look of confusion, and he leads one of your hands between your bodies for you to wrap it around his cock. “You want me inside you, right?” He rewards your tentative nod with a series of kisses down the column of your throat, “Come on then,” he mumbles into your skin, “put it in, pretty girl.” Exhaling a shaky breath, you keep your eyes on him as you guide him through your entrance. A gasp is torn from your lips when you feel his tip entering you, the initial stretch being more overwhelming because of the fact that you’re standing up. But Charles is quick to soothe you with his kisses down your neck, letting you control the rhythym and how further he can move inside you at first. With your hand making its way down to his hip, pressing him close to you, he quickly gets the message that you’re ready for him. “You’re ready?” He double-checks, raising his head to fix his eyes to yours.

“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now–” Your words are interrupted when you feel him move his hips back, just enough to have his tip inside you, and then he snaps his hips forward to thrust back in, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. It doesn’t take very long for you to become a moaning mess, in fact, you’re more than ready to fall apart for him then and there, but you know he won’t let you until he gets his point across.   

“Look at you, mon bijou,” Charles darkly chuckles, hips matching the rhythym of the song playing outside at the dance floor, “what would people think if they saw you being such a mess for me in a club’s bathroom?” And the whine you let out in response to his question nothing if pathethic, but you can’t find it in you to care because of how good he’s making you feel. “Yes?” He prompts you, mocking the whiny ‘Yes’, that leaves your mouth before you start begging him to let you come. But he doesn’t, because he knows you can hold it until he’s ready for you too, and he tells you just that.

“So good, Charlie, so good,” you can’t help the broken moans you let out as he fucks you to the brink of an orgasm. But that is not enough for him, no. He needs everyone to know the two of you are together now, needs to get out all of his pent up frustrations out.

So when the opportunity presents itself with Lando knocking on the door asking if you are okay? A knowing smirk find its way onto his lips, and you try to silently plead with him with your eyes. “You want to cum?” He whispers in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster. “Say my name if you want to come, baby.”

“Please–” You gasp, hands grabbing the shirt he’s wearing. It’s no avail even if you try to keep your voice down. Because when Charles finds a way to slither his hand down between your legs and starts rubbing your clit in firm circles? You know there is no way you can stay quiet through your orgasm. “Why?” You manage to get out, “God, Charles please.”

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good, pretty girl.” He encourages you, his rhythym now almost brutal as he tries his best to make you come for him. “Come on, tell me who you belong to.” He chuckles darkly when he sees you shaking your head. “It’s not Lando, it’s me. You hear that?” Uh-huh, is the only answer he receives in return, but he is of course not satisfied with it. So, he gently pinches the inside of your thigh. “Tell me who’s going to make you come, or I’ll stop.”

“N-no!” You exclaim, too overwhelmed to see that his threat is an empty one, because he would never actually do something like that to you. “Please, please don’t stop.”

“Come on,” he cooes, the sweet words he whispers into your skin making you more and more malleable to his request. “Say my name baby, let me hear you.”

“Charles,” your loud moan cuts the heavy air in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, breath unorganised and with that wild look in your eyes? There’s nothing Charles wouldn’t do for you. With every move of his hips, you moan his name louder, eventually tipping over the edge as he feels you squeezing his cock so tight that he almost loses himself then and there.

That’s not to say he doesn’t, of course. Because just as you’re about done with your orgasm, you feel him come inside you, chanting your name alongside mine, mine mine. It takes a long time for the both of you to get back to your senses, but he’s extremely gentle with you as he helps you down and fixes your underwear. You find yourself snuggling up to him when he eventually takes you into his arms after fixing his own clothing, nuzzling your nose to his neck. “You know, I think I like the jealous side of you.” You mumble, leaving a few kisses across his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he cradles your face with both of his hands, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You nod, giving him a small smile, “But I need you to take me home, please, I can feel your cum dripping down my leg.”

“Oh baby,” he coos, tutting as he slides his hands down your body to grab you by the waist, “we’re not going home, it would be rude to leave our friends by themselves. Don’t you think so?” The flabbergasted look that you give him makes another chuckle come from his lips as he slowly turns you towards the door. His lips find the junction between your neck and shoulder again as he announces, “We’re going to go back out there, and we’re going to dance. We wouldn’t want you to miss your song now, would we?”

And when he opens the bathroom door and you hear the first words to a Rihanna song you love? You know it’s going to be a long night ahead of you.

[cleo-fox]

Unraveled

Summary: It was all fun and games until Loki started wearing that goddamn sweater.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering, godly refractory periods, kitchen sex, semi public sex, Loki in a sweater.

A/N: My explanation for this one is that I saw too many pictures of Tom Hiddleston in a sweater and it gave me thoughts.

Being an Avenger has made you pretty good at rolling with the punches. After your third or fourth encounter with some alien/wizard/android bullshit, your perspective is fundamentally altered and real life seems manageable in a way that it didn’t before. You have to call your insurance company to dispute a claim? Big deal, you’ve negotiated with terrorists; you can handle Garth from Member Services.

The thing is, having that kind of perspective means that the things that do get to you can rattle you a lot more than they should. Natasha had warned you about that, but you were riding high on the thrill of successfully conquering Blue Cross Blue Shield and you kind of got to thinking she was exaggerating.

And then the seasons started to turn and Loki started wearing that goddamn sweater.

You can recognize when someone is out of your league. When you first moved into the Tower, it had been relatively easy for you to assign Loki to that category: he was a god. He’d been featured in last month’s GQ. You were mortal and your most recent press had been a TMZ story featuring unflattering paparazzi photos of you leaving a bodega in your pajamas at seven o’clock in the morning, a bagel halfway into your mouth. You were clearly not the same.

Up until the sweater, you’d managed to keep your cool around Loki and keep your attraction confined to daydreams and the occasional surreptitious lustful glance. Hell, you’d even had the nerve to be proud of yourself for keeping your shit together in front of him.

The sweater lays waste to all of that.

On the surface, it doesn’t seem like a sweater that is capable of completely destroying your carefully constructed composure. It’s a fairly standard crew neck in a deep green so dark it almost looks black at a first glance. But on Loki it just…does things to you. The fabric is well fitted, clinging to his biceps, pulling taut across his chest, emphasizing the line of his pectorals. It somehow accentuates how muscular he is while also still making him look lean and lithe.

The first time he wears it, you find your eyes just trail to him of their own volition, like an incredibly horny moth to the flame. It’s a day of catching yourself staring, panicking, pretending that you were actually looking at something else, and then repeating the process five minutes later when your gaze inevitably wandered again. It almost would have been funny if it didn’t put your blood pressure into the stratosphere.

To make matters worse, at the end of that day’s debriefing, he rises from his chair and raises his arms to the ceiling in a long stretch. The hem of the sweater creeps up, exposing the firm, flat muscles of his stomach, lightly dusted with a trail of hair that meanders in a tantalizing path down to his belt buckle.

You promptly choke on your own spit. Clint claps you hard on the back and asks if you’re okay, which is a question you don’t know how to answer (ultimately, you stick to a thumbs up and mumble something about dust getting caught in your throat). Loki is too preoccupied complaining about the entire concept of office furniture to notice. Or at least you’re pretty sure he doesn’t notice.

You might have been okay if that had been the only incident, but the sweater makes a repeat appearance on Friday. The following Tuesday features the deadly combination of the sweater with a pair of tight, dark wash jeans that nearly send you into cardiac arrest. Your fantasies suddenly become much more frequent and detailed.

You are not really sure what to do about this—it’s not like you can talk to anyone about it, nor can you ask him to stop wearing it without prompting some very uncomfortable questions. The idea that you’ll get used to it is laughable. 

You look at your calendar and note that spring is six months away. At least.

Fucking hell.

*

It’s a Saturday afternoon and in a strange quirk of scheduling, almost everyone is out of town for a mission or a personal obligation, leaving the Tower unusually quiet. As much as you enjoy the daily clatter and chaos that comes with living here, you find a lot of comfort in these moments of quiet, however infrequent they may be.

You intended to make yourself a late afternoon snack. That was the plan, anyway. But as you’re standing at the kitchen counter and cutting up the fruit you just washed, you realize that you’re not entirely alone. From this vantage point, you can see Loki lounging on the couch in the next room and reading.

He’s wearing the sweater. Of course he’s wearing the sweater. And the so-tight-they-should-be-illegal dark wash jeans.

Goddammit.

You have the sense to set the knife down at least. The last thing you need is a trip to the hospital because you got too distracted by your hot colleague while handling a knife.

You let your gaze travel along the firm muscles of his chest. It’s just a sweater. It shouldn’t look this good. It shouldn’t prompt these kinds of thoughts. And yet…

He shifts on the couch and the hem of the sweater creeps up. His hand drops to his belt buckle. It’s entirely appropriate, but the way his long, long fingers are splayed against his stomach makes your mind drop straight to the gutter and wonder what they’d look like wrapped around his rock hard co—

“You know, it’s rude to stare.”

His voice comes from behind you and adrenaline surges through you like an electric shock. The Loki on the couch looks up at you and smirks before disappearing in a shimmer of green.

You wonder if it’s possible to die of embarrassment and a heart attack all at the same time. It certainly feels like you’re about to.

You take a deep breath and try to collect yourself, which feels largely futile. Come on, get it together. You’ve negotiated with terrorists and insurance companies. Shake it off.

You slowly turn around, cheeks burning. Loki is standing right behind you, arms folded across his chest. You swallow.

“I um. I was—I was just…” Words escape you as your brain fires in every direction except a helpful one.

“You were just what?” His expression is intense, but you’re not sure that he’s angry.

“Spacing out,” you say, trying to infuse your voice with confidence that you absolutely do not feel.

He places his hands on the counter behind you, intentionally caging you in with his body. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him—a masculine, wintery musk that makes you want to bury your face against his chest.

“Try again,” he says. His voice is deep enough to rattle your bones.

You swallow. Everything you could possibly say seems wildly inadequate.

Loki has never been one to be at a loss for words, though, and after a moment of terrified silence from you, he continues speaking.

“I’ve noticed something curious over these past few weeks,” he says. “When I wear this sweater, you can’t seem to take your eyes off of me.”

Your heart is pounding. Fucking hell. Have you really been that obvious?

“Now why is that?” he asks, his voice a low purr.

You briefly consider trying to lie again, but the piercing green of his eyes instantly makes you rethink it. “I um…” You swallow hard. “It’s just…it suits you. You…you look good.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I look good?”

You nod.

“Interesting.” His lips twitch in a slight smirk as he looks you up and down. “And how does that make you feel?”

Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach contorting with a strange combination of fear and desire. You’re still humiliated, but the sound of his voice and the dark intensity of his gaze is intoxicating and incredibly arousing.

“I don’t—I don’t know how to answer that question.”

“Oh, I think you do.” There’s a rawness in his voice that makes your cunt clench.

You shake your head, eyes wide. You’re pretty sure he’s not really mad, but you also don't know where this is going. Surely he’s not making a pass at you…right?

“How does it make you feel to see me in this sweater?” he continues, his voice a low whisper. He pauses for a moment and when you don’t answer, he continues. “Does it…arouse you, perhaps?”

Holy fuck.

This can’t be happening.

You try to think of something clever or sexy, but the bluntness of the question and the fire in his eyes kills whatever remaining brain cells you have left. Mutely, you nod.

There’s that smirk again as he licks his lips. “Are you wet right now?”

Your cheeks burn. You give the tiniest nod possible.

“Hmm.” His hand alights on the button of your jeans. “I believe you Midgardians have a saying that is appropriate here: trust, but verify.” He slips the button free and your heart pounds like a war drum in your chest. 

You cannot believe this is happening.

“You haven’t been entirely truthful in this conversation.” His palm presses flat against your stomach, the tips of his fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear. “So I’m afraid I’m going to have to see for myself.”

His hand is achingly slow, creeping lower and lower. He watches you intently as his hand cups your sex, seemingly cataloging the way your breath hitches and all the little shivers that run through you.

His middle finger finally slides between your folds and you can’t help but moan.

“Oh, you did lie to me,” he growls, his index finger joining his middle, both sliding up to circle your clit. “You’re not wet, you’re soaked.”

Your legs are already starting to tremble and you grab on to his shoulders to try and steady yourself. The fabric of the sweater is softer than a cloud against your hands.

“Sopping wet,” he continues, trapping your right leg between his thighs and the counter, the heavy weight of his erection pressing eagerly against your hip. “And this is all for me?”

Wordlessly, you nod. There’s no point in denying it—and you don’t think he wants you to, either.

“What am I going to do about this?” he muses. His index and middle fingers lightly circle your clit again and you whimper.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” he says. His tone is one of light curiosity, like you’re just chatting casually about the weather. “But if I continue, you’re almost certainly going to come.”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please.”

“Oh, you want me to make you come?” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Right here in the middle of the kitchen?”

You nod.

“Anyone could walk in, though,” he purrs. “Anyone could come in and see me with my fingers buried in your dripping cunt. What would they think if they saw you so utterly debauched and at my mercy, begging for me to make you come?”

“Don’t care…” you gasp. How are you already so close?

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t care what they’d think if they saw us like this?”

You shake your head.

“Oh, you must be desperate.” He adjusts his hand, his thumb taking up the rhythm on your clit while his index finger sinks into your slick channel, making you gasp.

“Loki, please—”

“Begging already,” he says, not letting up in his rhythm. “Has it been a long time, sweetheart? When did you last feel this good?”

It’s not a question you can answer. You don’t know that anyone ever has made you feel like this. You moan, your hips bucking hard against his hand.

“Poor thing,” he tuts. “You’re clearly desperate for it. What kinds of filthy thoughts have you had about me?” he purrs. “I’ve seen you staring, I’ve heard your breath hitch. Have you touched yourself while thinking of me?”

You manage a nod and his smile turns feral. “When was the last time?”

“Last…last night,” you gasp.

“How many times did you come?”

“F-Four.”

“Filthy girl.” His free hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tips your head back. “Next time, all you have to do is ask.”

His mouth covers yours, his tongue pushing past your lips as he slides a second finger into you. You moan into his mouth as the pressure in your hips increases.

“Oh yes, let me hear all of those pretty noises,” he murmurs. “Are you going to let me fuck you against the counter after I make you come?”

You nod, whimpering.

“Good girl,” he purrs. “I think you need to be fucked properly and hard. Is that what you need?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

“Mmm, that’s what I thought. This cunt is just too wet and needy for any other treatment.” He draws back to look at you more fully, giving you a lazy, hungry smile. “You’re about to lose it all over my fingers, aren’t you?”

Your orgasm is cresting, the tingling pressure in your hips becoming unbearable. You nod, lost for words.

With one more smirk, he curls his fingers inside of you. “Come for me, pretty girl, let me see you.”

Your cunt spasms around his thrusting fingers and your whole body shudders as your orgasm overtakes you, your head tipping back as you cry out.

“Oh, that’s it,” he murmurs, “there’s my good girl.”

A shiver runs through you at his words, your hips still moving against his hand, trying to draw out every last ripple of pleasure.

He kisses you as you come down from your high, and you take the opportunity to run your hands over his chest and tentatively feel the hard planes of muscle that you’ve been staring at these last few weeks. But after a few moments, he takes your hand and guides it to his cock.

His preference for leather pants or those sinfully tight dark wash jeans made you suspect that the size of his ego might actually be proportionate to the size of his cock and your initial assessment seems to confirm that theory. You rub your fingers over the denim that covers his thick shaft, feeling yourself grow even wetter at the low groan he makes in the back of his throat.

“Take my cock out.” His voice is so deep and his eyes are so smoldering, it feels like the command goes straight to your cunt. You are practically trembling with anticipation as your shaking hands  make quick work of the button, buckle, and zipper.

You can’t help but suck in a breath when his cock comes into view. He’s long and deliciously thick—big enough to be a little intimidating, but not overwhelmingly so.

He guides your hand to wrap around his shaft. He barely fits in your hand. “Look at what you’ve done to me,” he says, his voice raspy as he guides your hand to stroke his cock. “Feel how hard I am for you, feel how much I want you.”

His cock practically pulses with need, the tip slick with pre-come and you grasp him more firmly, your cunt pulsing as he gives a deeply satisfying groan.

You stroke him from base to tip, squeezing lightly. He groans again. “They told me to stay away from you, you know,” he says.

You aren’t so far gone that you can let this information slip by. “What? Who?”

“Stark. Rogers. Romanoff. My brother.” He reaches behind you and shoves the fruit and cutting board into the side, the knife clattering into the sink. “They saw how I looked at you,” he says. “They saw that I wanted you. They told me you were too good for me. Too sweet.”

You feel your jeans and underwear melt away in a shimmer of green and he lifts you easily onto the counter.

His eyes flash with desire. “I wonder what they’d say if they knew you’d let me fuck you raw in the middle of the kitchen?”

For a brief moment, frustration almost wins out over your lust. “We could have done this sooner?”

His gaze turns serious. “Darling, we could have done this the moment we met, but I’m told a handshake is more appropriate.”

You take a breath, about to embark on a rant about the individuals he’d named and how they hadn’t even asked, they’d just assumed, but Loki puts a hand up against your mouth.

“Don’t make me wait any longer,” he says. There’s a sincerity and a need in his gaze that you’ve never seen before and it’s enough to calm your anger for just a moment.

“Okay,” you say, wrapping your legs around his waist and angling your hips toward his, “but clear your schedule because I’m gonna need you to fuck me a lot to make up for all that time.”

His grin is feral as he pushes into you.

You shiver at the blunt stretch of his cock, your hands gripping his broad shoulders. He indulges in a low groan as his hips press flush against yours.

“If I’d known they were keeping me from this tight cunt, I would’ve done something sooner,” he rasps. “You feel absolutely perfect.”

“Please,” you breathe, “I need—please.”

His hips snap hard against yours and you moan, your head tipping back.

His eyes glitter as he pulls you close, pressing his mouth against your ear. “The next time I have you, I will be sweet and soft.”

“And this time?” you ask, though you think you already know the answer.

“This time—” His mouth presses against the curve of your neck, teeth scraping just this side of too hard against the tender skin. “—I’m going to utterly ruin you.”

His pace is fast and rough—the word possessive comes to mind. You twist the luxurious fabric of his sweater in your hands as his cock hits that sweet, aching spot inside of you, pressing against your sensitive cunt in a way that makes your muscles spasm and clench around him. You moan, a shiver rolling through you as you inch closer to release.

“I’m…fuck, I’m getting close,” you gasp.

His pace abruptly slows and his grin is wide and his eyes are dancing with mirth when he raises his head from your shoulder.

“That was unnecessary,” you say with a scowl.

“Oh, I just want to savor you for a little longer, my love,” he purrs as he settles into an easy and slow pace that still makes your toes curl. “You’re going to take me right over the edge with you and I’ve waited so terribly long to have you.”

“I feel like you’re probably omitting the fact that you like being a tease,” you say.

He grins again, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Both things can be true.”

He does this a few times—taking up a wicked pace that almost sends you hurtling over the edge, only to slow at the last possible moment, silencing your whimpering protests with a deep and slow kiss that is good enough to make you forgive him until a few minutes later when he does it all over again.

You hold out for as long as you can, but eventually, the ache in your hips overwhelms you.

“Loki,” you breathe when his pace again begins to increase. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” he rasps, somehow finding the concentration to raise an eyebrow. “You’re quite sure?”

You nod.

“You want to come all over my cock?”

Speech is slightly beyond you at this point, but you manage to gasp a desperate plea as you hurtle into the final plateau, right before the fall.

Loki regards you with that same playful look as he fucks you. You wait, unsure of what he’s going to do, your body desperately crying out for your release.

His lips curl into a smile. “Come for me, sweet thing.”

At the sound of his voice, every one of your muscles is tensing and releasing, the slick walls of your cunt clamping down hard on the thick girth of his cock as you shudder and moan.

The remnants of Loki’s composure are fraying, his eyes closed and his jaw slack as he chases his own end. His brow furrows and he throws his head back, letting out a low groan as he comes and you think it might be the best sound you’ve ever heard.

You sag against him as you both come down from your respective highs, his heart beating hard under the soft fabric of his sweater. He reaches for your face, tilting your head back so he can kiss you, impossibly slow and soft.

You’re in the middle of the kitchen. You understand this. In a wholly rational world, you would be quick to hop off the counter, quick to try and negotiate the return of your jeans from whatever pocket dimension he’s sent them to.

Instead, you find yourself wanting to stay in this moment, with his arms wrapped around you, his cock still pulsing inside you as he kisses you breathless.

You count to ten, then twenty. At forty, you draw back slightly, only to have him pull you back into the kiss.

It’s somewhere after one hundred when he trails his lips to your neck and you manage to say what you intended: “We should probably…” you trail off as he sucks at your pulse point, sending a shiver down your spine.

“We should probably what?” he murmurs against your neck, before tracing a lazy figure eight with the tip of his tongue.

It takes you a moment to find that sentence. “Get dressed and such.”

You feel the sharp press of his smile against your skin. “I think not.”

Before you can open your mouth to say anything, the kitchen is fading in a shimmer of green to an unfamiliar bedroom and the two of you tumble into a bed draped in green silk.

“I’d like to stay like this for a while,” he says, a smile playing at his lips as he slowly rolls his hips against you, somehow still impossibly hard. “In fact, I think I need to have you again.”

“I can live with that,” you say. You tug at the fabric of his sweater. “But this is going to have to go.”

His gaze is smoldering and his bare skin is suddenly pressed against yours as the sweater and the rest of your clothes disappear in that familiar shimmer of green.

“Will you like me as much without it?” he asks, rolling his hips against you.

You drag your fingernails up along the firm muscles of his back. “I think I’ll manage.”

“Good,” he says, leaning in to kiss you, “because as I understand it, we have quite a lot of time to make up for.”

[nerdburritos]

I'm starving, darling

summary: you and Astarion decide to play a little game of hide and seek.

pairing: Astarion/f!Reader | Astarion/f!Tav rating: 18+ (MDNI) tags/warnings: blood drinking, explicit sexual content, porn with plot, predator/prey, smut, bodily fluids word count: 2.5k read on ao3: I'm starving, darling

a/n: english isn't my first language so please excuse any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors!

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"I'm home, my treasure." You slowly rose from sleep as these sweet words were whispered into your ear. You had no idea what time it was or when excatly he came home from one of his important meetings he now had on his schedule nearly ever other say since slowly taking over Baldurs Gate.

It started quietly, in the shadows. Getting invited to important political events wasn't hard now, you were the heroes of Baldurs Gate after all, the rest was fairly easy. Astarion slowly slipped into politics, barely noticeable at first - advising here and there, helping out and funding the restoration of the city. Now he sat in the High Council of Baldur's Gate, slowly filling the remaining seats with his people - his personal puppets, dancing just how he liked. No one noticed how influential he actually had become at first, until it was too late. He had slipped into every important part of Baldur's Gate - politics, finance, jurisdiction.

He was no merciless leader but people respected and feared him and that's all Astarion has ever wanted. The Ascended Vampire, a creature of night being able to walk in the blazing sun, enter homes uninvited and enjoy the pleasures of the flesh - most people didn't even dare to question him, it'd be foolish anyways.

You opened your eyes slightly, seeing Astarion towering over you on the bed, caging you in with his strong arms, the soft black, satin blankets clinging to your frame. He was still wearing his outfit from his earlier meeting - a black doublet with gold embroidery and matching slacks, gods how you loved that outfit on him.

"Good meeting?" you asked while slowly wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him close. Astarion immediately buried his head into your neck, breathing in your scent, placing gentle kisses over your collarbone.

"Mh-hm." he mumbled, still buried in your neck while he placed his hands on your waist, pulling yor body closer to him. "Such fools, all of them." Your gentle giggles were quickly interrupted by a moan as Astarion started to lick from your collarbone up to your ear, where he gently nibbled on your earlobe with his sharp fangs, making you shiver in anticipation - he was eager.

"How about some dessert?" Astarion whispered into your ear, making his way down your neck again, nibbling and kissing… he wanted to feed, obviously. You smirked, quite in the mood for riling him up a little.

"No." You simply said, grabbing his head and pulling him away from your neck. The look upon his face said it all - red eyes wide open in surprise, a mix of "what?" and "how dare you?" written all over his face.

"Oh, my love, your forget yourself. You're in no position to deny me. I know you want it, darling." Astarion whispered again in that deep, rumbling voice of his. You quicky jumped out of bed before he had a chance to pounce on you, making your way on the other side of the room, giggling like a little girl. Astarion smirked.

"Hmm, so you want to play a game, little love? Very well, I'll indulge you." He slowly unfastened the cufflinks on his doublet, sending you seductive looks - by the Nine Hells, this man was a vision. "So, how about this: you run and hide and I'll try to find and catch you. I'll give you a head start of 5 minutes, only within the palace, no gardens." He ran a hand trough his fluffy white curls and you nodded. "And when I catch you, you'll be all mine, like it's supposed to be." Astarions red eyes bore right into yours and you nodded. All his.

"Very well then, run off, my love. I'll see you soon." You immediately took off, running down the hall, figuring out where to hide. You knew the palace inside out but so did Astarion. You had to switch your hiding places after a certain time, that much was clear, you had to win! Astarion was a sore loser, so seeing the absolute disbelief on his face would be priceless. You suddenly heard the door of your shared bedroom shut in the distance, has it already been five minutes or was he cheating already?

You quickly hid in the old storage closet, it was fairly empty with the expetion of some old boxes and a few brooms, a bad hiding spot but it had to suffice for now. Astarion slowly made his way down the corridor, whisteling a gentle tune, already sure of his victory and thinking about all the delectable things he might do to you later. He continued to stroll down the corridor with his hands buried in the pockets of his slacks until he suddenly heard gentle movements from the laudry chamber next to him and smirked. How convenient. Sure it must be his little treasure inside, he ripped open the doors and stared right into the face of a shocked maid.

"Lord Ancunìn! How can I be of service?" she stuttered, right in the middle of folding the bedsheets, clearly not expecting his sudden appearance.

"Have you seen my consort, maid?" He snapped, already on edge. This was most embarrassing.

"I-i think Lady Ancunìn went further into the west wing, my Lord." Astarion slammed the door shut and made his way towards the west wing while you quietly removed yourself from the storage closet and headed into the opposite direction, quite sure of your victory but your inner celebration came to a quick halt as fast steps approached you. It was him but how? How did he know?

You quickly ran down the corridor and into Astarion's private study, the footsteps getting closer and closer. You were pretty sure that he used his vampiric powers to find you - that cheating bastard, he just couldn't bare to lose this silly, little game. The study didn't offer any good hiding spots either but you had no way out, Astarion was propably right behind you, you'd be running straight into his arms and you'd never hear the end of it. You slilently tucked yourself into a corner of the room, casting invisibilty just in time as the door swung open and Astarion stepped in, looking quite confused as the room appeared empty. He slowly shut the door, locking it - he knew you were still here.

"You can come out now, little love. There is nowhere to go." He chuckled, walking across the room and settling himself on the edge of his desk, leaning slightly back, waiting patiently - he knew the invisbility spell you propably casted was going to wear off soon. He proceeded to teasingly unbutton his doublet, eyes glancing across the room. By the gods, you wanted him but you were not ready to give up just yet, you still had about thirty seconds of invisibility left.

You quietly snuck to the door and teleported yourself out of the room - Astarion immediately noticed and ran after you, the doublet now open and his bare chest on full display. He saw you run across the corridor right in front of him as your invisibility slowly faded and let out a dark chuckle, he was enjoing this hunt massively. While your stamina was not bad, you were terribly aware that you could never outrun a Vampire, let alone an ascended one, Astarion was letting you get away with it, he was playing with you. You sprinted around the corner and came face to face with a wall, shit. You forgot that you closed off the entire wing that led down to the ritual chamber, only Astarion was able to enter and said Vampire was now right behind you, slowly getting closer and closer with a predatory smile.

"There you are, my little treat." You pressed your back against the wall, giving him a shy look, hoping you might get away with it. "Now, don't be coy." This was obviously not working, he seemed to be immunue to your charm so you had to beat him at his own game, that was your only hope now so you let him approach, playing the part of the poor, weak consort who just lost their silliy little game, his own damsel in the distress who needed a big, strong Vampire Lord to save her day. Astarion's protectiveness and his need to play your big, strong consort was a major turn-on for both of you. He loved to show off how powerful he was in comparison to you, knowing he could easily overpower but keep you safe anytime.

"Aww, don't pout." Astarion teased. "Don't you dare to give me an attitude now, my pet." He pressed you further into the wall, sure of his victory. You gave him a coy smile, placing your arms around his neck and Astarion was sure you were about to give in but you suddenly slipped down, crawling through his spreaded legs, freeing yourself and running away, laughing.

"Cheeky little pup." Astarion chuckled. "You want to play dirty? Fine, 'cause I love it dirty." He used his powers to teleport himself right in front of you, managing to elict a shocked gasp out of you.

"Cheater!" you yelled, ready to push him away but he immediatly grabbed your hands, pulling you into his naked chest.

"You're quite the insolent little pup today, my treasure." Astarion pushed you into the nearest wall, securing your arms above your head with one hand while the other made his way down your body, immediately cupping the sensitive spot between your legs - you let out a loud gasp. "My my, is this getting you all excited, my pet?" He leaned closer, whispering in your ear now. "Is this getting you all wet?" Astarion pushed his thigh between your legs, settling you down while still pressing you against the wall, making you whimper with need. He grabbed your hips and began moving them up and down his thigh, creating a dangerous friction between your legs and you let the most pathetic moan escape our mouth, Astarion laughed.

"Look at you, precious thing, you do want this." He gently nuzzled your neck, teasing the column of your throat with gentle kisses and the occasional suck while you continued to grind on his thigh, working yourself up more and more. Your sweet moans were nearly enough for him, he quickly freed himself from his slacks, giving his already hard cock a few gentle strokes while he continued to lick that delicious throat of yours. Your breath started to quicken, you were close and Astarion removed his thigh and pushed your dress up to your hips.

"By the Nine Hells…" he breathed as he saw your black thong, all lace, his absolute weakness. He deftly pushed the flimsy material to the side and ran a gentle finger through your folds, gathering some wetness before settling on your bundle of nerves, cicling it slowly.

"Oh Astarion…I'm gonna…" He immediately removed his fingers, one hand cupping your breast instead, gently teasing your hard nipple with firm, circling strokes of his thumb while the other one grabbed the base of your throat, applying gentle pressure, not enough to completly cut off your air supply but just enough to be noticeable.

"Oh no, my love, not yet." The hand teasing your breast moved downwards, grabbing his hard cock once more and slowly guiding himself closer to your aching pussy. He gently coated himself in your juices, letting the head run through your slit, teasing you and making you whine in anticipation before pushing just the tip inside of you. It took all of his strength not to take you hard and fast right now but he intended to drag this out, make you suffer.

"Astarion…fuck…." you whimpered, trying to move your hips closer to his, to slide him all the way inside but he kept you pressed against the wall.

"Tsk, tsk, good girls ask before they take what they want. You are my good girl, aren't you, precious?" he teased, gently cicling your clit with his thumb, biting his lower lip with his fangs on full diplay. You nodded vigorously. "Then tell me."

"Please…please, Astarion…"

"Please what, my love?"

"You've won! Please fuck me!"

"Well, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" He smirked arrogantly, placing gentle kisses on your neck again before finally sheathing his fangs into your throat and pushing his cock inside of you. Astarion moaned gently around your throat, sending shivers down your spine as he took generous gulps of your blood while pushing in and out of you at a tantalizing slow speed.

"That's a good girl." He felt your pussy flutter around him - gosh, the praise was really doing it for you and your blood began to taste even sweeter - your impending climax so close he could practically taste it.

"Fuck, you're being so good for me, my pet." Astarion took one more gulp before freeing his now blood-stained fangs from your neck, licking across the puncture marks to clean them. He now stared right into your eyes with his beautiful red ones, continuing his sweet, sweet praise while he slowly pushed in and out of you.

"You like that, don't you? The way my cock feels inside of you, like you were made for me." All you could do was moan and cling closer to him. "Fucking. Perfect." He slid out and pushed back in hard with every word, he was slowly losing control, getting closer and closer.

"Yes, my love, that's it." Astarion praised as he felt your pussy getting tighter. "Come for me." You saw stars as he started to tease your clit oh so gently once again and shattered around him. You felt yourself gushing, coating his cock with your release and blushed but Astarion seemed to quite enjoy it.

"Oh my pet, you've made such a mess for me, fuck…" His thrust were getting harder, sloppier, his breathing quickened. You placed your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer while resting your forehead on his, gently moaning.

"Please come inside me." You begged breathless, knowing this might send him over the edge. Saying that Astarion had a breeding kink might be far-feteched, he wasn't fond of children, he didn't even particularly like them, not to mention that a Vampire can't sire children, not even an ascended one but the thought of your pussy dripping with his release was enough. You pushed yur hips against his, helping him along and placed one of your hands on his defined chest, gently teasing his nipple.

"Oh fuck, little love, I'm gonna come…" Astarion's moan was the most beautiful thing on earth, you thought, you loved how vocal he was during sex, never above mentioning how good he felt or letting the occasional dirty talk slip in. Sex with Astarion was far from boring or vanilla. "Fuck." he nearly whimpered as he spilled inside you, his sloppy thrusts coming to a halt, his chest now pressed right on yours. You felt his hot breath on our neck as he buried is head into your shoulder, slowly coming down from his height.

You slipped your hands in his soft, white hair, slowly massaging his scalp and playing with his curls, feeling quite content and relaxed.

"Bath, my love?" he mumbled into your shoulder, already grabbing the back of your thighs, hoisting you up into his arms. You nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you down the corridor.

[redcherrykook]

── .˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ TENSION DEGREE 04

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College roomate!Jungkook x college roomate!reader- fwb 2 Lovers

Text messages of this chapter!

You find yourself having to share your room with a very sexually active medical science major who so happens to fancy you. Good thing he´s as charming and spontaneous as you, leading to many crazy parties and places you probably should not be hooking up at. When Jungkook started ignoring all his booty calls after accidentally calling someone by your name, unable to fuck away the thought of you, he knew he was cooked. Would he really leave his playboy antics for that sweet company of yours?

series- four!

content: mild slow burn- fwb2l, roomates, mutual pining, player jungkook that falls devoted to reader, cocky!JK, Confident!reader, psychology major reader, banter, parties, lots of smut (duh), only one bed trope, skinny dipping, roadtrip vibes

episode- warnings: sexual content (blowjob, making out, grabbing/groping, dirty talk), weed

Taglist: @khadeeeeej @ot7stansthings @whoa-jo @smoljjks @stvrlighytt @nono13bnd @jungshaking @junniesoleilkth @deepikhaprakash @rockstryoon @tatamicc @jjeonjjk7 @kookieandjoonberries @jcrl99 @httpjeonlicious @wnteraezz @aphrodyteeth @miniesjams32 @emojkoo @katie-tibo @user-190811 @massivebearharmony @hoseokteardrop @hoseoksluv89 @hoseoksluv90 @kooksdreamer

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"you sure you don´t wanna come?" Jungkook begs for the millionth time today,

He most definitely has a thing for pursuading you into his adventures,

Not that you mind anyways

Three days after the trip, 11:45 o'clock at night.

It felt like a delicious secret, knowing that you had him all to you,

.. you and his other girls.

To be fair, in these three days, there had only been the two of you

Not even chae knew, not yet

You'd tell her, tonight, for sure tonight.

Finally admitting that yes, the sexy roomate you wanna fuck maybe is worth it

To rewind, the last day spent at the beach house was fairly normal, that is, according to your standards

Packing, BBQing and acting like you haven't fucked your best friend and roomie which had been, surprisingly, easy.

No awkward waking up, no weird looks or air,

Just sexual tension that was easily resolved by quick make outs in the kitchen, right around the corner of your friends,

After the whole group had to hear yoongi getting his soul sucked out, even hoseok dropped trying to get in your pants.

Eunwoo was the only one that noticed something going on,

Giving you his number, for what ?

"Incase you wanna talk about that sexcapade you got going on, he can be annoying"

You accepted it, confused.

Right now, you're back in your little dorm, already having removed the smudged day make up and changed into comfy pjamas,

Hello kitty, obviously

"God you're lame" he sighs, rolling up a second blunt,

You join him by scoffing, pinching his cheek while walking by.

"Fine fine, okay"

He slips it into his cigarette case once he's done, grabbing a lighter from the microwave while you jiggle the car keys in your hands,

"Where is it exactly?" a simple question leaves your lips, still, it makes him chuckle.

His brilliant idea of the day was to go stargazing, then getting faded while talking about everything that came to mind.

You'd have to stay a long time, just to make the drive back.

He didn't mind, he said.

"I think its like a 25 min drive? Wanna get a snack too?"

Your head shakes, already stepping out the door with one foot,

"Would loveeee to be in the passenger seat though" you shout back, knowing that this battle has been your win from the start

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"I should be studying the attachment theories of bowlby right now" you laugh, rolling down the warm grass,

Another gentle push finds your shoulder, Jungkook's firm body crashing right next to you,

"Nerd" he chuckles

The scenery above is something straight out of a movie, thumping noises of the bustling city, far, far removed

So faint, even the car engines are being overshadowed by rustling branches of huge trees,

Stood tall around the patches of grass, like the one you're resting on.

The sky is clear, deep ocean blue with hundreds of smaller and bigger, shining stars illuminating the atmosphere, making up for the suns absence

Jungkook's head turns sideways, his eyes scanning over your sharp side profile, wide eyes twinkling from the beautiful sight

He smiles, reaching into his cigarette case to take out the two blunts, along with his lighter

Once the smoke clouds your vision so does the herby smell,

"Give me a puff kook" you say, scooting closer to him

He takes another drag, exhaling the smoke into the air,

You rest your under arm propped up on the grass, head and lower body now sat up, while your legs still lay close,

Sticking out the blunt qnd lifting it to your lips, you lean in, placing them around the calming sensation of finally smoking weed again

"Feels good huh? Better than bowlby?" his slender fingers stretch to tuck a strand behind your ear,

"Mhm" you hum, puffing the smoke out once more, making him grin with yet another idea

"C'mere baby"

You scoff, leaning in nonetheless

He takes a long, deep drag, swallowing the thickened smoke to be locked in his throat,

His hands pulling your face by your jaw, making you lean over him

Getting the message, your lips collide with his, opening your plump lips slightly to recieve the smoke from his mouth into yours

You accept it, gladly inhaling the sweet herby calmness

"Good girl" he winks, smiling cockily while rubbing his thumb on your bottom lip

You push him by his chest, pressing him deeper into the grass

He pushes back, making you lay down next to him with a small groan

"You're so annoying" you grin anyways, unable to hide how you truly feel

It always feels like the world is a little quieter when you're with him,

Calmer, while also being a whole lot more exciting

"Want me to light the second one?"

Your head tilts to his, now it being your turn to watch his side profile while he gazes up to the hopeful stars,

"Nah, one is enough"

His head turns too, leaving a couple centimeteres between your heads,

Almost crashing when he does so,

The softness of his face is so evident up close, erasing him from the shackles of his obnoxious personality

In the best way imaginable, of course

"Hmm you're right, im already high and really horny" he says, a proud look going down your body, even in your hello kitty pyjama pants and the white tank top you're wearing,

Jungkook is going crazy, the burning desire under his skin to run his hands all over you is becoming harder and harder to ignore

Finding it entertaining, you climb on his hips, which makes his hands immediately occupy the softness of your comfy pants, feeling the impact of his palms on your hips through them

You'd never pass up an oppurtunity to touch him

"hm, you are? really?" you say innocently, the sound of your voice so alluring, so inviting

He sucks in a breath when your hands find their way creeping under his shirt, slowly tracing up his hardend ab muscles

"Fuck yeah i am" he mutters under his breath, increasingly getting worked up by your little teases, gesturing down his body with your eyes

Hands following suit by playing with his belt, his palms press inward on your hips, firmly caressing them while his growing bulge pushes into your hips from below,

The pressure feels so good, having him grow thick and heavy below your touches

All he can look at is you, your tits in perfect, squished view, your face all concentrated,

The mesmerizing scenery you drove for is getting outshined by two horny college students

"Wanna get your dick sucked jeon?"

the groan he lets out combined with the way his hand moves to wrap around your throat, pulling you down, should be answer enough,

However, the sparks only increase when his deep, teasing tone of voice turns slightly whiny,

"If you talk like that i'll cum baby, please" he says, biting the corner of his lip,

You moan, capturing him in a deep, messy kiss that leaves a string of saliva connecting you, tongues poking out slightly

"Sit up then, knees apart"

He follows suit immediately, barely regsitering what's going on around him

The throbbing of is hard cock is enough to do anything for a sweet release,

Besides, you could always make him forget where the two of you are, none of that mattered

"You look so sexy like this bunny" he mumbles, keeping the whiny desperation laced within his voice,

Eyes wandering over the way your back arches, how your forearms are pressed into the ground, that sweet look of anticipation making him lose his mind

One of your small, delicate hands wrapping around the base of his dick

You can't help but slap it against your lips and cheek a couple times, the reaction of his,

The way his eyes tense and his jaw clenches,

It's too good to pass up

A gobble of spit lands on his cock, you let it run down slowly, pumping him firmly until your thumb hits his tip,

"Mmh fuck" he moans, head already threatening to fall back, he's so enticed with the way you move, the way you look so innocent peering up at him though your lashes,

His moans intensify, turning into lower pitched groans once your tongue and lips wrap around his tip, focusing on building up the pressure,

"Please bunny, take it like the pretty girl you are, i need to feel you so bad" he mutters, reaching to stroke your cheek with one of his tattooed fingers,

You hum against his skin, letting yourself down on him,

He's big, so big you struggle to take him in with an open throat, gagging once all of him is stuffed inside your sweet mouth,

He moans loudly, gathering some of your hair in order to support the movements of your head, bumping up and down on his cock,

"That's it, good girl, you feel so good"

By now you're begining to notice his head had fallen back, eyes squeezed shut tightly from the overwhelming pleasure,

Feeling your tongue swirl around his dick, the way you gag and moan when his pushes become rougher,

He's never been like this before, so into it and lost in the feeling of being on the recieving end,

"Fuck - oh my god, that's it, mhmm, gag on my dick pretty, doin' so well"

The way his praises keep flowing out has your own slick running down your folds, complentary to the way drool is leaking from the corner of your mouth

From the way he twitches in your mouth, the rapidly approaching orgasm was undeniable,

"Gonna cum baby, want you to swallow every drop, understood?" he pants, opening his eyes to gaze down at your pretty face, fully occupied with his cock

You moan, letting him know you will

And when he does, with a couple last curses and pushes of your tangled hair in between his fingers,

Your eyes meet his, watching his face fall beautifully while simultaneously feeling hot ropes of cum spurting down your throat

You swallow, of course, showing him your empty mouth afterwards

"Mhm.. god.." he's still trying to catch his breath, "c'mere bunny"

You're on top of his thigh, practically in his lap, his hand having found the comfortability on your face once again,

Pecking your lips a few times, which makes you smile in return

"You give the best head, no joke"

You can´t help but laugh, thinking that his casual comment made you swell with pride, it´s comofrting, knowing that from the many girls,

maybe you are different,

maybe you could be?

A soft kiss is placed on his nose, you ruffle his hair too, almost as in taking revenge for how messed up you look because of him

"Well i sure hope so now that i have a birds nest in my hair" you giggle,

He rolls his eyes, hands tightening around the soft skin of your waist, sneakily having found their way under your clothes

"You're beautiful, shut up" he says, capturing you in a kiss once more,

It's becoming increasingly more difficult to pretend the heartbeat in your chest is regular, like the blush on your cheeks is as well

He doesn't make it any easier, not in the slightest

"Wanna know what im craving so bad right now"

"What?" You ask, playing with a few strands of his hair,

"Fast food, like a crazy bacon burger or somethin' " he replies, licking his lips to portray the severity of the situation,

a slight look of disappointment hitting your face,

he coos,

"Awhh what? wanted me to say your name?"

his exaggerated pout stirrs up annoyance in you,

"Well I gave you the best blowjob and get met with a burger craving"

Jungkook kisses you swiftly, lacing his fingers in your hair,

"I´ll make it up to you at home, i promise"

your lips curve into a small smile, now that you think about it, a burger does sound really good,

maybe that´s the weed in your system talking

"Let's go get it then, i'd kill for a burger"

He seems happy with your agreement, hoisting you up bridal style while talking,

"On it pretty" his hand moves down, quickly squeezing your ass, which makes you hit his back with another airy gasp,

The thought of being uncomfortable never crossing your mind,

Even if some other, pressing thoughts are developing far too loudly for your liking.

[mariahcarreyyy]

Can you write a lando norris x fem reader fic where they do anal (fem receiving) cause he won a race or championship or something please

+ my first smut ever go easy on me pls 🙈🙈

𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗭𝗘, 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗶𝘀

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

plot: after Lando wins his first grand prix race, you let him explore a new area in your sex life-- taking it from the backdoor.

wc: 2.8k { shes a long one ;) }

warning(s): smut 18+, anal fingering (fem rec.), anal sex (fem rec.), celebratory sex, the overuse of the words 'fuck' and 'baby', swearing, and mild mention of champagne.

The post-race flush on your boyfriend's face that Sunday afternoon was nothing new: his cheeks twinged were crimson and a broad smile was etched onto his face, clashing dangerously with his papaya race suit.

What was new, however, was that Lando's feet were placed neither on the third step of the podium nor the second. He stood victoriously on the top step, raising his large silver trophy above his head and beaming at the ecstatic crowd.

The Silverstone winners' green eyes meet yours in his struggle of drowning in champagne, mouthing, 'I love you.'

'I love you more,' you mouth back, no longer resisting the urge to let your proud tears escape your waterline. 

Hours later, the thrill of Lando winning his first race was as strong as ever. It twirled recklessly around you and Lando's sweaty bodies and booming music. The high-end club was overflowing with Formula One drivers and media personnel. All celebrating your boyfriend's first win, no doubt.

You and Lando had been separated at some point during the night, lost in the purple and blue LED lights of the club, and you found yourself dancing with whoever had been willing to. Witnessing his girlfriend sway against the bodies of a stranger hadn't bothered him, because the two of you were aware that no one could touch you like he could—make you feel as good as he could.

Fuck, his blue jeans grew tighter against his crotch, eyes stubbornly planted on the curve of your hips and watching as they moved seductively to the beat of the music.

The hair on the nape of your neck rose, somehow aware that someone was watching you. You detach yourself from the stranger—a fairly attractive blond in his late twenties—and turn around only to be met with your boyfriend's eyes for the second time that day.

When he turns back around to face the bartender, you advance towards his seat and wrap your arms around his waist from behind.

"Hi, baby," he smiles as you rub your forehead against the crook of his neck.

Like a cat, he thinks.

"Hey," you murmur, muffled by the cotton of his black shirt. Breathing in, you think you have become drunk on the deep musk of his cologne. "Y'smell so good."

Lando tips his head back with a boastful laugh, but it falters when he feels your soft lips slowly trailing up his neck, smirking, "Yeah? You wanna take this someplace else?"

You crane your neck up, biting your bottom lip as you nod shyly. Lando doesn't need any further confirmation; he stands up, and your hands consequently fall from his tan stomach. A whine nearly escapes you at the loss of physical touch, but he's quick to interlace your hand in his.

Sometimes, you believe he can read your mind.

"Don't let go," he demands, pushing past the swarm of drunken crowds (and also leading you to rub your thighs together in hopes of relieving yourself, but you chose not to acknowledge it).

In a matter of thirty minutes, you were able to escape the suffocating atmosphere and catch a cab back to your hotel. The moment the door of the hotel room shut behind you, Lando placed both of his veiny hands on your waist, pressing your bodies together and attacking your lips.

Your body was on fire, and the pit in your stomach screamed for relief. Lando couldn't fucking stop kissing you. And even if he could, he wouldn't dare be the first to pull away.

Lando Norris was not one for alcohol, but he would get drunk off the peachy scent of your conditioner if he could. 

The driver's hand stilled on your cheek to tip your head back and deepen the kiss, while the other tugged on the hem of your little black dress. You let out a pathetic whimper against his lips, and Lando takes it as permission to slip his tongue inside.

Hesitantly, you pull away, albeit not very far. You could count Lando's faint freckles, and your nose brushes against his occasionally. You meet his eyes and fight the urge to look down at your feet because he's looking at you like you hung the fucking stars in the sky. A grin breaks out on his face, and he resumes his feathery touches on your dress. "C'mon, baby, take this off f'me."

You blink dumbly at him. Lando doubles over, emitting that laugh that you love so much. That hyena-like, gigglish shriek. When it dawns on you that you might be staring a little too hard, you immediately reach for your dress, lifting it above your hips and shrugging it off your shoulder.

Lando curses softly under his breath and urgently lays his palms back on your hips. He presses your lips together again, softer and gentler, and your heart aches. Warmth consumes you as you lean into the kiss, Lando's lips impossibly soft against your own.

Lando gently taps his index finger on the crease separating your ass and thighs. You know, just from his touch, what he needs, and of course you do; there have been too many nights of you waking up together, tangled in white bedsheets, for you not to.

You jump, your lips still connected, and your head dizzy from his touch. His palms wrap beneath your legs, carrying you to bed like you weighed about as much as a feather. 

And like, Lando manhandling you shouldn't make you want to ride him till he cries, but it does. It only made the need in between your thighs stronger. 

Soon enough, you're splayed out on his sheets with Lando's pillowy lips sucking all over your neck, painting it with soft hues of lilac.

The fabric covering your boyfriend's body makes you jut your bottom lip out, whining, "Take it off, Lan, please."

Lando pulls away with half-lidded eyes, resting on his calves as he fumbles to free himself from the constraints of his clothes. And well, you definitely didn't lift your hips against his clothed dick at the sight of his defined abs. 

Lando breathes sharply and spreads your legs to rub your pussy through your panties. You whine, trying and failing to grind up against his palm because his other hand is firm against your lower stomach.

"Mm, so good f'me, so wet." Lando moans lightly, pushing your lace to the side, and—oh fuck, he's rubbing your clit.

You thrash against his touch, gasping as you heave out, "Lan, no, please, no."

The drivers' previous lust-filled eyes are tainted with worry now. "What's wrong, baby? I do somethin'?"

You almost chuckle fondly at how fast he retracts his arm from in between your thighs (and also cry). You shake your head, lifting your hand—which had been previously gripping at the sheets—to cradle his defined cheekbones.

"No, no, baby, 'tis not that," you gulp, and his wory morphs into confusion, urging you to continue. "I just, I dunno, I know how much you wanted to fuck me from the back, so I, uh, thought we could do it tonight."

Shit. 

Lando doesn't know what he expected to hear, but it was sure as fuck not that. To his own surprise, Lando somehow grows harder in the confines of his boxer. A grin adorns his face, despite the pain between his legs. "Fuck, you sure, baby? I know I jus' won a race, but that doesn't mean we have to, princess."

"I know," you reassure him, trailing your hand down to his boxers and palming at his erection. "I want to; y'looked so fucking hot on that top step."

"Yeah?" He sucks in a sharp breath, and you hum sweetly, squeezing his dick harder.

Lando's hips stutter against your touch, grinding down in an attempt to relieve his ache. Mustering up his last shred of dignity, Lando somehow manages to pull away, making you whine for what felt like the 1000th time tonight.

He chuckles, stepping off the bed to tug his boxers down and reach for the strawberry-scented lube on his nightstand that, as you both learned, all high-end hotels supplied. Lando eagerly sits in the space of your spread legs, leaning forward to place wet kisses along your collarbone till he reaches your tits.

You moan softly when he wraps his hot mouth around your nipple, and Lando goes fucking ballistic. The sound echoes in his head like a broken radio. Lando wants to take it out and store it in a guarded safe somewhere in India. 

The driver alternates between each boob, flicking his tongue against one and rolling the nub of the other with his fingers. Your hand quickly finds solace in his curls, arching your back to bring him closer. When he pulls away with a kiss to your sensitive nub, you find it hard not to be hyper-aware of the thick cock resting against your thigh.

You roll your hips impatiently, and satisfaction engulfs your body when Lando reaches for the discarded lube on the bed. With a pop, he pulls the lid and squeezes a generous amount on his palm. He rubs his hands together, the friction warming the lube well.

You would be a liar if you said a swarm of erratic butterflies hadn't swarmed your stomach. Lando would make this enjoyable; you knew that, but he couldn't completely take the pain away. Taking a deep breath in, you reach for Lando's clean hand.

He intertwines them beside your hip without asking a question.

He pokes a wet finger against your rim, asking, "You ready, love?"

"Yup," popping the 'p', satisfied with yourself at how well you were hiding your nerves.

Lando pushes in, and he barely has half of his index finger inside you, but holy fuck, the sight drives him crazy. The hold on his hand tightens, and he forces his eyes away from his finger wrapped around your asshole to look at you.

"H-how're you feeling, love?" Lando stutters at the feeling of your asshole clenching around his digit. "Relax, baby, you've gotta relax f'me, please."

Tears well up on your waterline, blurring your vision of Lando kneeling in front of you. It took a few seconds, but the pain eventually subsided, and Lando took that as a sign to push deeper.

Lando tries his absolute hardest not to moan loudly, instead focusing on the heat of your ass wrapped around his index. He removes it, leaving no time for you to question him before he shoves a second finger inside.

"Oh!" You arch your back, eyebrows furrowing, when the pleasure starts bubbling in your stomach. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Shit," Lando says, because your writhing against his fingers, begging for more, more, more, has reduced him to a man of few words. "Doin' so fucking well for me, baby."

The driver continues to fuck his fingers into your ass, twisting and curling every once in a while. Your head tilts back against the mattress, and your mouth hangs in a permanent 'o'.

"You think y'ready for m'cock, darling?" 

You don't--cant-- bring yourself to answer. Your mind, you believed, had officially melted into a puddle, spilling out of your ear. Lando curls his fingers, as if nudging you on the shoulder and saying, Hey, I'm talking to you.

You screech, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. His gaze, that makes you feel so delicate. His gaze, that makes your head void of any thoughts. His gaze, that you wanted on you forever.

You nod, and he carefully pulls his digits out. Lando grips the base of his cock lazily because he knows he won't be able to last long, and he'd be damned if he was about to spend one less second inside you. 

Lando lines his dick up against your stretched-out rim, fingers untangling from yours, and instead rests them on the small of your waist. When Lando pushes the tip inside your hole, the pain that shoots up your spine causes your hands to fly up to your back, clawing at him to distract yourself. 

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," Lando repeats like a prayer.

You felt so fucking wet, so tight around his cock. Lando was sure that if he died like this—naked, sweaty, and with his cock shoved deep inside your ass—he'd die happily.

The feeling of Lando's fingers was incomparable to the sensation—and pain—of his length filling you up inch by inch. The room smells of sex, Lando's perfume, and strawberry-scented lube, and once the pain finally subsided, you realized you needed him fully inside you now.

You wrap your legs around his hips, the balls of your feet pressing against his lower back as you beg, "Please, Lan, I need you, need you to fill me up, please."

Lando swears under his breath, hands gripping at your waist so hard that you're sure you'd look in the mirror the next morning to see your hips painted a lilac and indigo blue sunset. He pushed further inside, his eyes glued to your asshole, stretching to accommodate his thickness and sucking him in, moaning loudly when you accidentally clenched around him.

"Fuck, baby, y-you're taking all of me," Lando gasps in disbelief, biting his bottom lip as his eyes roll back.

You haven't said a single thing, reduced to a whimpering mess and tear-stained cheeks. When your fingernails dig deeper into his back, Lando blinks, ripped out of his lust-haze trance.

Lando tries to focus. Really, he does. But shit, you're clenching sinfully around his cock and fluttering around it as if to say, more more more.

"Lando," you whisper just loud enough for him to hear, painting his back with crescent moons from your fingernails (you'd feel bad if it wasn't for his dick splitting you in half). "Fuck me."

Lando groans at that, wasting no time before pulling his hips back and slamming them back inside. You shrieked, and at this point, you were sure that Lando's back was bleeding from your nails' assault.

You look up at Lando through your eyelashes, jutting out your bottom lip. Your boyfriend's hips don't falter when he leans down and kisses you. It was different. It was messy and hot, and you let out a choked sob against his lips.

With wide eyes, Lando pulls away. "Are you okay, baby? 'Doin so fucking well f'me, fuck, good girl."

You moan, the praise making you impossibly more horny, and nod your head frantically, reaching for your clit between your thighs. Lando tuts, removing a hand from your pretty waist to plant your arms against the pillow above you. 

"Please, Lan, I need it, need it so bad." You helplessly grind your clit against nothing.

And who the hell was Lando Norris to say no?

With the new-found pleasure of relieving clit, you are 100% sure that if you ever were to die and go to heaven, it would look like this. It would feel like this.

Lando isn't ashamed that he wouldn't last long, not when you feel this fucking good, not when he can hear your high-pitched moans and uneven breaths. With a stutter of his hips and a particularly loud groan, you already knew he was close.

"Fuck! Baby, I-I cant," he doubles over, frantically rubbing tiny circles against your clit and attacking your neck with his lips. "I'm gonna-"

You arch your back as though you're getting a fucking exorcism because, holy shit, the feeling of his hot semen filling you up is way hotter than it should be. Lando pistons his hips in and out of you through his high, and with one last cry, black spots cover your vision. 

"Fuck!- oh, fuck, lan, lan, lan," you repeat his name like a prayer because he might as well be god. Your arms thrash in Lando's hold, already yearning for his touch like you always do post-sex.

Lando releases a guttural groan as he pulls his softening dick out, twitching when your asshole involuntarily clenches around him. You're still breathing so fucking loud when he collapses beside you and wraps an arm around your neck to rest your head against his chest.

Lando shifts, tugging the thick blanket around your sweaty, cum-painted bodies before you hear, "Shit! Baby, didn't mean to hold 'em that hard, does it hurt?" 

You furrow your brows, following Lando's eyeline; your otherwise plain wrists were adorned with the scarlet imprint of your boyfriend's hand. 

Shrugging, you scoot up and bury your forehead on the crook of his neck, mumbling, "Don't care."

Lando places a mental reminder to put some cream on it in the morning, but for now, he's happy to place small kisses on the top of your head, whispering praises and 'thank you's into your ear.

When you rub your head against him shyly at his words, Lando can't help but laugh fondly at you.

Like a cat, he thinks again.

Lemme know how you liked this story or give me some feedback in the comments or my inbox! 💬🧸

Reblogs and likes are always appreciated 💌💌

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I dont know if you write smut, but if you do, I was wondering if you could do a bestfriend!james and reader going further above the just touching? Like, they're cuddling and then suddenly grinding, leading to some you knooow!! Hehe, thank you!

I do ! This one is fairly tame though, sorry, it just felt more right for them in the moment. Thanks for requesting babe <3

cw: pg-13 smut

bestfriend!James x fem!reader ♡ 658 words

James is hardly the poster boy for cleanliness, but even he won’t stoop to getting in bed with jeans on. Which is how the two of you always end up like this, curled up under his covers and pantless for a midafternoon nap. 

The first time you did this, you were hardly able to sleep, but now it feels fairly normal. It helps that you’ve got the world’s least sexy underwear on, full-coverage and worn, a pinkish beige color that you suppose was probably supposed to be someone’s skin tone but you’d only bought as part of a multipack. And James has the comfiest bed in the world, a weighted comforter and the sort of heavenly mattress only generational wealth can procure. His arm is strewn loosely over your side, his front pressed to your back, and his breath is a steady rhythm on the nape of your neck. You’ve never felt so blissfully warm and heavy. 

You know without knowing how that James is starting to wake up just like you are, slow and lazy. You stretch out a leg, feeling the muscles tense all the way up your back, and he splays his hand on your abdomen as though to keep you in place. Makes a soft, sleepy sound. 

Later, you’ll say that you don’t even remember deciding to do it. Maybe you’re too tired to think straight, maybe you’re still halfway in a dream, but you nudge your hips back into James. A subtle movement. Incidental. 

Only, James nudges back. And he tilts his head so his mouth moves closer to your shoulder, mumbling something incoherent into your skin. 

It feels good. You keep going. After a while, his hand has migrated up to cup your tit, not hard, not squeezing, just a lazy perusal of unexplored skin. There’s not much of your skin James doesn’t know, but this is some of it. 

There’s a nice, sluggish warmth seeping into your core, sweet as a river of honey. Your breaths are still relaxed, syncing now. 

“James,” you whisper, his name hardly more than breath. 

“Yeah.” His hand trails back down to your hip, helping you turn over. “C’mere.” 

Your mouth practically falls onto his. There’s no parting of lips, no tentative pecks. Your mouths find each other warm and open. James tastes like basil, the pasta you’d had for lunch, but somehow also like himself, like even his saliva is a little bit sweeter than everyone else’s. 

You end up on top of him through a team effort, your leg hooked over his and his hands helping you the rest of the way. He holds your hips gently, guiding you back and forth over him. 

It’s slow and easy, like leaves swaying in the breeze or the tide coming in. So natural you wonder if this is actually the first time it’s happened. Maybe you and James have been doing this, somewhere just outside the reaches of your consciousness, forever. 

“Jamie,” you say in between kisses. Your voice hardly sounds like yours, breathy and still stretched with sleep. “What’re we doing?” 

“Dunno.” James’ voice sounds just as lax. It’s oddly comforting. “Don’t stop, yeah?” 

You weren’t planning on it. You let your head fall beside his on his pillow, face nestled in the downy softness of his curls while you kiss at the skin behind his ear. 

James makes a murmured sound of encouragement. His thumb begins to make smooth, indolent circles over the fabric of your underwear. 

“I fucking love these ones,” he sighs. 

You guess they’re not so unsexy after all. Once you decide you’re done with his neck, he takes a turn, slipping your sleeve off your shoulder to give you a pretty mark just to the left of your collarbone. Your bodies are warm everywhere they touch, that heat in your core a steady comfort. 

You don’t talk any more. You fall back asleep with your nose smushing into his cheek. 

[barcaatthemoon]

game time || jill roord x reader ||

jill cockwarms you while she finished playing a game.

smut, 18+, minors dni.

"jill," you whined for what felt like the tenth time in half as many minutes. jill was absolutely engrossed in her game, just like she had been all day. she had let you sleep after picking you up from the airport, which was when she began playing this game. you had hoped that after you woke up, jill would have switched her attention to you, but that wasn't the case.

"i am so close to being done, just be patient," jill told you. she had been saying that for the past hour or so. you were on the verge of getting up and going to watch something in the bedroom by yourself, but you wanted so badly to be with jill.

"jill, please put the controller down for a little while. i miss you so much, and i just want to spend time with you," you told her. jill sighed as she paused her game momentarily. you were pouting at her when she looked at you in a way that told jill everything she needed to hear.

"i'll be back." jill stood from the couch and left you there by yourself. true to her word, jill came back a couple minutes later. immediately, your attention was taken by the fake cock jutting out from between jill's legs. the pale blue almost blended in with jill's manchester city sweatpants, but you never would have been able to miss the toy. "sit on it for me, and be still. every time that you move or disturb me, you'll have to stay for longer."

your face went pale as you thought about her terms. you had never been great at being still, but maybe with jill inside of you, it'd be different. gingerly, you stood up from the couch and undressed yourself. jill made you stand in front of her while her fingers teased your cunt to make sure that it was ready to take her strap.

"you're so tight baby, this is going to feel so good." jill pulled her hand back to taste your arousal. you bit your lip as her hand returned to your cunt, this time with one single digit inside of you. jill fucked you slowly, only adding another finger when she felt like the first slipped out without enough resistance.

"jill, kiss me, please," you begged. jill's tongue flicked out to lick her lips. the action only made you want her even more as memories of messy makeout sessions flooded your mind. you thought about the countless nights that the two of you had spent with jill's knee pressing against your core as she kissed you again and again.

"come here baby," jill ordered gently as she moved her hand away again. you let yourself be guided down onto her strap, now facing her as you sat in her lap. you sank down each inch of jill's cock slowly, only moving with her hands as she guided you. "now, i need you to keep still for me. tell me now if you don't think you can do that."

"how long until you finish your game?" you asked her.

"shouldn't be too long. this is the last mission, and if it isn't, i'll stop when i finish it," jill promised you. you nodded and sank the final little bit onto her cock. jill gave you a couple of quick kisses before she turned back to her game. your body rested against's jill's, and for the first few moments, it was easy enough to pretend that you were just cuddling.

jill stayed fairly still until she began to hit hitches in her game. she shifted around in her seat, each time jostling the dildo inside of you. you bit back your moans until you physically couldn't, even though you were afraid of distracting jill even further.

the fact that she wasn't paying to you only made you feel more turned on. jill seemed to completely disregard you sitting on top of her. you and jill were no stranger to little games like this, but it had never quite felt like this. you were a bit more turned on than normal, and it had definitely been a lot longer than what you were used to since jill had touched you last.

"jill," you let out a small whine. you were starting to feel really full in a way that you weren't used to. it was like she was right where you needed her to be, but still so far away. your body was screaming for you to move, but you knew that jill had no issues with making you sit here for hours without any sort of relief. "i don't know how much more i can take of this."

"you're doing so well. i'm almost finished," jill told you. it was subtle, but you could feel the rocking of her hips as she sat playing her game. jill had always been good at knowing exactly what you wanted when you didn't know how to ask for it.

jill's thumb rubbed against your thigh, a simple grounding method that she had used before when this sort of thing became too much for you. jill knew that you were trying hard for her, that none of this was exactly what you had wanted when you landed. jill felt a little bit of guilt tug at her, so she set her controller down on the coffee table.

"can i move you?" jill asked. you nodded, and almost instantly, jill flipped both of you so that you were pinned beneath her on the couch. "do you want me to go fast or slow?"

"slow," you answered. jill nodded and began to slowly thrust her hips in and out of you. she moved all of the way out of you and bottomed out inside of you with each thrust. jill cradled your face in her hands and pressed soft kisses to your lips in between the whisperings of sweet nothings.

"i love you so much," jill told you. you tried to say it back, but all of your words felt like they just slurred together. jill had barely been doing anything to you, and she already had you feeling cock drunk. you were needy and desperate, and jill knew that she move a bit faster to get you through this.

she was still as gentle as ever as she sped up her thrusts. jill leaned down, and you felt like you were in a bubble. all that you could focus on was jill as she pressed kisses to whatever bit of skin that she could get her mouth on. the slight distraction was welcome, and just what you needed to ground yourself long enough to really chase after your release.

"come here baby," you muttered as you pulled jill's head against your chest. she happily laid on the couch with you, neither of you making any attempts to move somewhere more comfortable even as your bodies began to ache. "i missed you."

"tomorrow is all for you. anything that you want, just the two of us," jill promised. you hummed happily at the thought of that. you weren't sure how long you'd be in manchester for before you got called in for pre-season practice and wanted to spend the most amount of time with jill before then that you could.