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seraphdreams · 1 year

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NO PHOTOS — BAJI KEISUKE/KAZUTORA HANEMIYA.

— CONTAINS. fem!reader, 3some, slight choking, praise/degradation, reader is referred to as sweetheart and doll, multiple rounds, tora is an energetic fucker. 18+ mdni.

— WORD COUNT. 4.0k

— NOTES. this is like my 50th repost cause i’m trying to not get flagged but i hope you enjoy the first addition to this miniseries. i really loved writing it all and i hope i don’t have to repost it again :( also listen to the song “no photos” by don toliver!

— LINKS. series masterlist — general masterlist.

They say rivalries could fuck up a friendship.

Not particularly for Baji and Kazutora though.

Rivalry was invigorating to them, something they needed in their day to day lives like water to survive, and even after their childhood years, they still found themselves battling against each other somehow. So, it didn’t come as much of a surprise to Kazutora when he arrived at Bonten’s freshly established headquarters, complete with its own separate hotel and casino, to see that his opponent was Shibuya’s best, Baji Keisuke.

A smirk then followed a laugh when Hanemiya thought over it more. Baji? It’d been years since he last saw his best friend, his only fond memory being attending Keisuke’s graduation; How strange of someone with their veterinary degree to take on racing. To each their own, he presumed.

In turn, however, Kazutora spent most of his time in jail. Trouble seemed to follow him everywhere he went like a lost puppy with its unreliable owner. And at the end of every day, he promised himself he’d get better—He had to. And he did. Prison struck the opportunity for him to pick up new dexterities, other than his last hobby of breaking and entering. With that, he grew increasingly knowledgeable in the field of motorbikes. Once he got out, he landed himself a job at a local bike shop. Comfortable; the pay was great, he did what he loved, and when he was exceptionally lucky, he’d get to compete against others in his area, being an undefeated favorite as well.

Now with him settled into his suite, alongside his roguish roommate, the need for competition grew stronger.

“It’s been a minute, huh, Keisuke?” Kazutora sighs out, laying across the opposite side of his bed. Coming from Tora, it was rich. Rich in the sense that whenever it came down to the two going head to head back in Shibuya, Kazutora conveniently found himself sitting in a cell. “Sure has. I was startin’ to think your bum ass was scared of me.” Baji responds with a snicker, adjusting his head on the headboard of the luxurious hotel bed.

“Never. But hey..” Kazutora starts, sitting up straight and resting his weight against his hands behind him. From the shift in octave of his last vocables, Baji knew to listen intently despite aimlessly scrolling on his phone. Probably looking at bikes again..

“Y’seen that new girl Bonten’s been hoarding? Fucking gorgeous.” Kei’s focus flits immediately to Hanemiya. “New girl?”

If you could only see the look on Tora’s face when he described you, as if he’d seen an angel from Heaven and came back down to Earth just to report it back to Baji. It was entertaining to say the least, how expressive he got when telling Keisuke you were about this tall, and your hair was the sexiest shade of this color, and he can’t fucking forget about your body. Each dip and curve of your frame was engraved into his brain with so much depth that if he’d somehow end up with amnesia, he couldn’t forget—He wouldn’t forget.

“Sounds like a real peach. The hell they need her for?” Baji queries. The truth being, Bonten needed you as a morale booster. Someone to remind them they were human even after a gruesome day’s work, and of course at times they’d get distracted, bend you over the desk in God-knows-who’s office just to make the prettiest mess out of you. It kept their spirits high, and they were fun men so you didn’t mind as much as you should’ve.

Kazutora thought for a second on what his next words would be. Spontaneously, he asks, “Wanna find out?” The question didn’t quite register in Baji’s mind until Tora graciously added that you were the designated flag girl. What a shame it’d be if you didn’t get to know your racers a few hours before they become less than friends and more than foe.

—

Last night’s packing took an immense amount of your energy, leaving you only to manage a quick shower in the morning after less than a full night's rest. You blamed Haru; That forgetful bastard, only he would make the mistake of relaying to you that the flight leaves at 6 A.M instead of P.M, which forced you to scramble for time you thought you had.

When you finally arrived at your suite, you opted for a nap to rejuvenate lost time, and fortunately you had been granted the night shift at what was beginning to feel like your new part-time job. You slept soundly without distractions for the next few hours, and once you awoke, a necessary shower was in your presence.

It wasn’t until you stepped out of the shower that you noticed your phone buzzing on the counter, paired with an unknown caller ID at the top of the screen. Normally, you’d ignore it, wait for the ringing to stop and carry on with whatever plans you had for the day, but since Bonten had a particular way of wiring your phone, to say the least, who knew what business you could be called in for.

“Hello?” You hold the phone between your ear and shoulder as you drape the towel around your dampened body. A soft voice projects through the other line, so gentle as though it were merely a whisper. “Is this Y/N?”

You move on to heading out the bathroom and into the bedroom where you set the phone on speaker and begin to apply your smell-goods. “Mhm, what’re you calling for?” There’s a brief bout of silence from the other side until the familiarity of hearing that docile tone vacated and it was replaced by a deeper, brasher timbre. “Y’not busy, are ya? Gotta race in a minute ‘nd ‘m losin’ motivation, sweetheart.” The sentiment of the pet name had heat surging through your body.

This must’ve been what Rindou was talking about. And to think all that talk about needing to “stick close by his side” because the others were bound to want you, was just a scheme to be possessive. Maybe actually listening to Bonten could teach you a few things.

You weren’t dumb as to not realize who was on the phone. It clicked for you the moment you heard his voice. He was your Boss’s friend, the one you reigned attractive against the others in the photos he’d shown you. Mikey had warned you that he was an unpredictable man, but seeing as Sanzu was someone you dealt with on a daily basis (regardless of if you wanted to or not), Baji was nothing.

Surely, you weren’t too busy with anything, and a quick welcome visit couldn’t hurt. “Not busy at all. Which room are you in, Keisuke?”

Fucking hell. Just how cute can you get? Kei tries his hardest to not let the grin on his features go noticed, or to not let the excitement rush straight to his dick, yet he fails at both. “Na, Kazutora..” You could hear him on the other end calling for Tora’s attention. “What room are we in?”

You couldn’t hear Tora’s response over the phone but luckily Baji was gracious enough to repeat it a second time, not necessarily just for you to hear; but for emphasis. An allure, roughly.

Room 602 — Who knows what’s to come?

Luckily, you were provided with the cutest checkered set, a gift from Ran Haitani himself—complete with a teensy tiny skirt and tight little crop top that left no part of your chest to the imagination. Truly adorable, the way it had fit your body, the uneasy feeling of bareness waning away once you stepped into your platform Miu Miu heels.

After some twirling in the mirror, you felt ready enough to make your way to their suite. You knocked gently against the lacquered door, in contrast to how sturdy, heavy almost, it felt underneath your knuckles. The handle turns and the door is pulled from the inside, revealing the men who occupied the area.

They had to be over 6’0, the both of them. You weren’t expecting to be towered over within the first ten seconds of arriving, it was evident on their features that they found you rather cute. The one you came to recognize as Baji was posted against the wall with his arms crossed, sharp eyes taking you in gradually. Hmm, intimidating.

The other held the door open, a soft close-eyed smile on his face. Ran would make the same expression with you at times too. A dark mole near his right eye gave him a more feminine look in comparison to the raven haired male a foot behind him. He seemed friendly, this must’ve been the carrier of the dulcet voice you heard from before.

“Cute outfit, that what you’re wearing tonight?” Baji queries, relaxing his stance in the slightest. Kazutora pulls the door in more, allowing you ample room to slip past him and to shut the door behind you. It takes a while for you to slowly nod while taking in the view of their room. Bonten really outdid themselves when coming up with floor plans for the hotel because every inch of each square foot seemed to be crafted specifically to fit their divine tastes. Nevertheless, a golden view of the water from the window situated in the living space. “I’ll try not to ruin it then.” Huh? What does he mean by that?

Your focus hastily snaps back to the man before you, a sinister smirk quirking at his lips that reveals two sharp… fangs? He’s far more frightening in person.

A hand on your wrist enthusiastically guides you to their room, it’s Kazutora, sitting you down amongst the bedsheets. Baji follows behind him, sitting across from you two. “Tora, relax. You’ll scare her.” You giggle at Keisuke’s assertiveness, receiving an eyebrow raise from him as soon as the airy chuckles reach his ears. “‘m not scared.” You respond, hands placed over your bare thighs.

“You’re so cute, like a doll. You’d let us get to know you a bit?” Kazutora’s voice resonates from the side of you he sat beside. You turn to look at him only now noticing his golden-hued eyes.

Very pretty.

“Of course.” Your response came out in a reassuring tone, the pair falling harder and harder for you as each second passes. Kazutora’s hands wrap around your waist to pull you closer to him, the tips of his fingers dancing dangerously close to your inner thighs.

“You gotta boyfriend?” He sing-songs. Baji leans in closer despite only being two feet away, his hands folded and rested over his lap. “Not technically.” You chime out, feeling as though you’ll go dizzy from the tantalizing scent of the man beside you.

“Not technically?” It’s Baji’s voice you hear now. “I mean, ‘m not with Bonten, but sometimes they treat me like a girlfriend.” Which wasn’t far from the truth. Your relationship with Bonten could be described as something similar to a friends with benefits ordeal. Not quite, but not far off.

“Your little boyfriends would probably be disappointed if they found out you were here, huh?” In response to Baji’s question, you shake your head. “They don’t have to know.”

So perfect and so fucking dumb. What did they do to deserve you?

Kazutora’s hand trails up your abdomen, to your sternum, and right under your jaw where he grips your throat with the lightest pressure and angles your head upwards to meet his eyes.

Those same friendly orbs from before diminished into something colder, with the faintest hint of mirth behind them. “Be honest with me, pretty baby. Who do ya think is gonna win today’s race? Me, or Keisuke?”

Hypnosis is what it felt like when you stared into his eyes, attempting to muster up an answer that would satisfy both parties, although you just… didn’t know. Kei’s eyes narrow as they land on Tora’s, the quick glance they give each other filled with devilry.

“I-I don’t know.” You give him your final resolve. Kazutora releases his grip on you and moves his hands back to your thighs, slightly pushing them open to reveal the barely there panties you wore underneath your skirt. “Don’t know?” Hanemiya’s voice is whispered against the shell of your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. “How ‘bout we show you? You’d like that?” Hands that were previously between your thighs find themselves tugging down your little shirt, kneading the flesh of your tits softly. You elicit a low whine, nodding your head as Baji situates himself between your thighs, using his sharp teeth to pull the fabric of your panties down until they hang off one ankle.

“Imma make ya feel fucking good.” His eyes lock onto yours as he uses his tongue to switch between flicking and sucking at your clit. Kazutora settles behind you, allowing you to somewhat rest against his back while he continuously plays with your nipples.

Baji’s tongue is dangerous, he’s messy. The feeling of the wet muscle in and out of your core causes a docile whine to reverberate from your throat. He keeps your shaky legs open with his large, calloused hands, his pointed nose inadvertently aiding in the pleasure stemming from your clit and the only way you can really react is by bucking your hips up like a desperate whore. You couldn’t help it, he knows he’s too good.

“Kei-Keisuke!” You stutter out, hand moving to tangle in his dark locks, tugging gently. He returns your whine with a groan, speeding up his ministrations which make your hole twitch around him, legs threatening to close any second. From his perspective, you looked like an angel. Everything about you so sweet, cute, and innocent. Just the thought of knowing how other men have had their way with you, gets him harder than a fucking rock.

It’s incredibly messy at this point. Kazutora’s lips take purchase on yours, kissing you sloppy and rough. His fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples cause you to go crazy, just a thread holding you back from your orgasm. You’re so incredibly wet too, Keisuke can’t even tell if the strings of slick dripping down the bedsheets come from his saliva or the growth of your arousal.

You can't take anymore at this point, opting to run away from the pleasure instead of giving in, but Baji’s hands grip hard around the fat of your thighs, keeping you still as he gives you a sharp glance, one that’s only a warning. Kazutora pulls away to recollect his breath, eyes scanning over the scene on display. There’s a dopey grin on his face that you miss as he watches your clit twitch. “Fuck, her pussy’s so pretty!”

“Gonna cum! L-Lemme cum!” Your voice is slurred, hips uncontrollably rutting into Baji’s mouth. He slows the jerking of his own hips against the mattress, pulling away from your heat and replacing the lost feeling with his fingers on your clit. He circles them against the nub with slight pressure, watching how your jaw drops open and sonorous mewls slip out.

“This whatcha wanted? Y’sound so pretty, even that pussy’s talkin’ ta me.”

You were too caught up in your own pleasure to even notice the raunchy squelches of your creamy cunt resonating throughout the room. How embarrassing.

It only takes a few more moments for your body to convulse under the sensation, your juices dripping down Kei’s arm and back arched against Kazutora’s chest. “Atta-fucking-girl! Look at that!” Tora coos. That signature smirk returns back to Baji’s features, mesmerized with the way your pussy pulses in orgasm. “We’re gonna have so much fun witcha tonight.”

Keisuke sits up, kneeling at one side of the bed, repositioning you so that you’re arched nice and pretty for him while Kazutora kneels at the other end, your face millimeters from his cock. Kei wraps five digits around the back of your neck, pulling you towards him to meet his eyes. You stare up at him with those angelic orbs, doe eyes rendering nothing behind them, just pure vacancy while you pout in the slightest, a reaction from his vice-like grip around your throat. “Y’gonna take it all for us?” A quiet mhm is muttered from your throat, Baji beaming down at you with his menacing smile, satisfied with your answer. “Be careful with Tora,” Keisuke lets his grip go and he leans down over you, whispering into your ear, loud enough for the other to hear. “He’s a throat fucker.”

He sits back up straight, unzipping his pants slowly before taking out his hard-on. If only you could see how much Kei leaked, just how huge it was. You could only guess when he teasingly slipped the tip in and out, entertained with the way you stretched around him. Kazutora, on the other hand, slides his length down your throat fully, not giving you any time to adjust to his size. Instinctively, you wrap your lips around his shaft, gradually building up a bobbing rhythm.

Kei wanes his teasing enough when he watches how well you envelop the half-blond. He slowly pushes into you at the hilt, sighing out a deep rasp before practically pounding your hole, leaving you no room to adjust to his massive cock.

God, his dick is fucking heavy. It stretches you out wide enough to the point where you feel as though your cunt can’t take anymore, all while your hands grip the sheets underneath you for leverage that only helps in the slightest. Tora’s hand grips at the hollow of your cheek while you continue to take as much of him as you can. He’s really trying his hardest to not let his hips take control and accept the pleasure you’re languidly giving him, yet he fails, letting his hips reel back and cock slip down your awaiting throat. His thrusts are hard in tandem with Baji’s, both the men using you to get off.

Little tears begin to pool at your waterline which Kazutora finds amusement in, fucking your throat at a faster, wilder pace. Vibrations from your throat shoot through the parameters of his length, eliciting a whimper which follows a groan. “So fuckin’ good, baby..”

A harsh slap stings across your ass once Keisuke finds his rhythm, the warmth and wetness of your hole inviting him in like he was just meant to be there. You wince in response, trying your hardest to not run from the pleasure. “Guess your men are good for something, cause fuck, you take it so well.” His hand slips down partially, enough for his thumb to enter your puckered hole, pumping the digit slowly. From this, your eyes roll into the back of your head, legs starting to feel like jello and even you can’t seem to keep yourself arched for him. “Y’got so tight after that, ‘s like you want me to cum in you.”

Your mind goes hazy, the only thing bouncing around in that empty brain of yours being the need to make a mess. Just the feeling alone of being used like a toy has your core tightening, the sign of your next orgasm. Tora’s grasp on your cheeks reach lower, the taut sensation of his hand now around your neck. He groans while watching as his cock struggles to fit down your throat. He could virtually grab his phone and record how he’s having his way with you, possibly use it for future reference when he’s alone and missing the warmth you give him.

“Ah shit, I think the little thing’s gonna cum. Is that right?” Keisuke goads, using both hands to pull your faltering hips back up. A tiny mhmm is sounded from your throat and he takes his fingers to rub your clit in tight circles. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he coaxed your orgasm from you, spit dripping from your lips and around Tora’s shaft as a sheer layer of your essence coats the entirety of Keisuke’s cock.

The sight of it all has Tora’s eyes crossing and balls tightening, being the first to shoot his load into your mouth. He gradually slows his movements to a halt, pulling from your mouth to give you a chance to finally breathe. You’re gasping, practically choking when air settles back into your lungs, your body shaking from the overstimulation of Baji inside your heat.

There’s a hard thrust, then another before Baji releases inside you, creating a beautiful mosaic of the messes you both made. Quite the artist, he was.

Before you know it, you’re being manhandled into yet another position, this time being ass up for Kazutora and face to cock with Baji. Just how much stamina do these guys have?

Kazutora’s first to slip in, a more fucked out moan leaving his lips when he observes the way his cock slips easily into your cunt. You’re so fucking wet, he can’t think straight. Baji lines his length up with your lips, shallowly pushing in. “Just the tip, sweetheart. Wanna see if you know how to control yourself.” You wrap your lips around his plush tip, sucking harshly.

Tora finally starts to move. You’re just too fucking wet he can’t help it when he’s already getting carried away, fucking you senseless. Such a mess on his cock, he’s lost.

It was easier to take in as much as Baji prohibited but with the trajectory of Hanemiya’s thrusts, you’re going past your limit.

“Kazutora, slow the fuck down. You got her chokin’ on my cock more than she usually does” Baji hisses out, vexation fueling his arousal. Even though it wasn’t your fault, you’d probably apologize if you could, let the man before you know that you were totally capable of at least trying to keep control. Much to no avail, Kazutora refuses to ease up, instead letting pleasure overrun his senses.

It was loud. The sounds of skin slapping, mixtures of whining and groaning, anyone from outside the door could probably walk past and hear just how cute you sounded getting fucked out your mind. Maybe that’s what they wanted, the whole establishment to know that you weren’t just Bonten’s little slut, but theirs too.

The next few moments whizz by like nothing, your hole getting stuffed for a second time and your tongue met with the acrid flavor of cum. You’re splayed across the bed, heaving for air with fatigue growing inside you hastily. “So, who d’ya think was better? Me or Kei?” It’s that giddy tone that lets you know it’s Kazutora speaking. Both the men seem unaffected from the previous situations yet you're the one left winded. “Both..You both were really, really good.”

Kazutora makes a buzzer-like sound, as if you’d been mistaken in your resolve. “Wrong! There’s only one winner.” Baji scoffs at Kazutora’s antics, checking the time on his phone. “We should probably head out, seems like races’ll start soon.”

“Do me a favor, baby..” Baji’s words hang off the tip of his tongue purposefully as he makes his way to you, standing you up and adjusting your outfit back in place. “Be good and keep our cum stuffed in this tight little hole, or else your boyfriends’ll be real upset.”

He tilts his head in a mocking manner and you nod along.

A quick wave of goodbye and wishes of “good luck!” leave your lips as you finally leave the BajiTora abode. Tonight’s race should be interesting one.

— In the end, it was Kazutora who reigned victorious, leaving Baji to his first defeat. The victor didn’t matter to them, they just enjoyed it; enjoyed being together whenever they could. For sure, Chifuyu would have to hear about this once they get back home.

After your limited experience of waving around a flag while trying to keep your panties from revealing too much, you grew tired, quite frankly. There had to be other things to do once races completed.

“Wonder what Koko’s doing!”

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callsigns-haze · 6 months

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Pretty like a crime

Chapter 3

Pairing: Agent Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Singlemom! Agent Y/n 'Cobra' Y/l/n

Word count: 4.3k

A/n: This is the second post to my new series so please be nice! I'm going to try to make this into a series so please show this story a bit of love and reblog!

Summary: Cobra is finally back on the agency and is finally back in the job. With Kai at home she has to jumble being a mother and a agent. She's sent to her first U.C mission but never thought that she would meet a blonde, green eyed Texan...

Warning: Mentions of gun use, ptsd, mentions of death, mentions of shooting, flirting, mentions of abuse, description of dead body, death, blood

Part 1/ Part 2

The gun was hidden well. Okay maybe not in the best place but nobody would find it. A lot may say that taking a gun to your guardians house is being mentally ill but it's a promise you were not going to break.

You were living the week and a half with Tom and Sarah has been a whole different experience than living with your dad. The Kazansky house was marvelous. It was one of those posh houses at the end of a rich street, near the ocean. It was three storeys tall with a very tall attic and consists of around 6 maybe even 7 bedrooms. The thing that caught your eye from the second you entered was the great staircase. It was like one from Hollywood movies. The one with gold lined railings and spiraled edges. This life was a luxury compared to the way you were raised. You and your dad lived in a one storey bungalow with three bedrooms and a porch so you could easily say that this was a quite opposite way of life.

Adjusting to living here was hard though, especially with the new surroundings. Your new bedroom was, well, not fit for a young girl. It was one of those green flower designed rooms that was meant to be a guest room but you'll be taking it from now on forward. Sarah has told you that soon after new years she'll take you shopping and picking out new furniture and designs. She was so nice to you and tried to lighten your mood in any way possible from this miserable turn of events.

You were now sitting on the great bed in your room. This was even a new experience for you. At your dad's house you had a single bed with a soft back headboard that was made slightly into a closet bed. And even your dad's bed wasn't this big. Sitting in silence, you were staring into space, a way of escaping reality that was the biggest mess upon you. You say there with your knees rolled into your chest, slightly rocking back and forth. You weren't even thinking about anything, your mind was blank but still contemplating life.

"Y/n, honey, dinner is ready!" Sarah called you down from the bottom of the staircase. You slowly got up and sighed. You enjoyed dinners with your new guardians but you just wanted to be alone.

"So, did you start reading the book I brought you?" Tom, asks not in a pushing or angry way but as a conversation starter in the silence that was only broken by cutlery clatter. "I finished it," you answer, swirling your fork over your plate, not having quite the appetite. "600 pages already?!" Tom says rather shocked that the book he gave you the previous night, which took him weeks to read was already completed by the young girl at the other side of the table.

"You must really enjoy reading," Sarah smiled, trying to learn something new about you so your conversation wouldn't be bland and clueless. She wanted to know about you, other than what she knew from your dad before he died. She wanted to know the true you. "My mother taught me," you say and silence falls again. Your mother was a topic that was nearly never allowed to be mentioned at the table when you were with your father. A part of him blamed her for being irresponsible and not thinking about her family and became a druggie like the ones she fought against.

"I'm sorry, I know that the topic is not allowed at the table," you murmur the apology and Tom and Sarah both give you a very confused look. "Honey, you know you're able to talk to us about anything," Sarah says, calmly setting her glass of water down as she looks at you. "I know it's probably hard to trust us but now we're family and we care for you."

You didn't look up from your plate. It was filled with food that if someone offered it to you weeks back it would be already gone but now you stare at the meal that was barely touched. You take a sip of your water and swirl the water around slightly to see the light water waves forming in the glass. "Honey, me and Tom wanted to talk to you about something," Sarah broke the awful silence again and you slightly raise your gaze from your plate and look up at her. "Me and Tom annually host a new year's eve party with a bunch of friends but we thought of stopping."

"Please, don't stop it because of me," you say as your eyes tear up. You didn't even know why you wanted to cry over this but you could slightly sense why. The two of them have done so much to fulfil the gap of the guardian role in your life for the last week and now they are willing to cancel their annual plan for you. Your dad has mentioned Tom and Sarah's parties, apparently they are flooded with people from all around and one of the biggest year events.

---------------

"Y/n-" "Please don't cancel it because of me," you repeat again as tears start spilling from your eyes due to the stress. You didn't know how to handle emotions anymore and this was one of the examples of what happens. "Oh, Y/n." Sarah sighed and quickly got up from her chair and ran over to kneel in front of you. You wipe your tear filled eyes with the sleeve of your sweater as she lifts your chin up. She wraps her arms around you as Tom has made his way to the two of you and rubbed your back, up and down. "You're safe now, nobody will hurt you."

"Good morning Cob," Jake has made you a quite unique nickname for you ever since the two of you have started working together. You believed it was for the tease, as a joke to annoy you in the morning of his entering as if him coming in wasn't annoying enough sometimes. As always he flashes that smile, that could go on for miles and leans over your shoulder as you answer his welcoming. "Mornin' Bagman," you say, spinning a 180° on the black, spiny work chair. He smirks but shakes his head in a slight disagreement.

"Oh trust me, it's not bagman right now because marvelously, how should I quote it, I left my cozy, secure apartment earlier than usual into this cold, cruel world and took my amazing truck to get you the coffee you love," he says handing you over a ice latte with cold foam and vanilla. "Have I told you, I love you," you say jokingly but something inside of him didn't want it to be a joke, he wanted you to feel the same strong emotions he feels for you, something he's never felt before but he decides to hide it and get back to work business.

"So, we're just driving today?" Jake asked as you looked over the work papers you were handed. Most work for now was driving and listening to the radio for any problems, distress or accidents but it was quite a full schedule anyway. "Yeah, there's no proper assignment just to look out," you say, scanning your eye over the papers again.

You've been working with Jake for around three weeks now and the two of you work quite well together. You can match each other's intensity and character without breaking a sweat and have the same dedications in work so like they say a match made in heaven.

"Come on Cob, let's get this show on the road," the blonde smirks and you just smile out of his enthusiasm. This may be a long day but definitely not boring.

"Y/n, change to channel 7," Jake says, not demandingly but quite in a question way, requesting you to change the comms channel to see if there is any action going on. You just simply nod and turn the knob until the seventh channel turns on. And yet again silence. "I swear the communicator has never been this quiet," Jake sighs as the two of you have just been driving endlessly for the past two hours without any call or acquiree. "Yeah," you say, quite not taking in anything that Jake has been saying as you are way more interested in the case you were reading about on your phone.

Your in-tell has been telling you'd about details of a drug operation that may happen and you got the files sent to you a couple of seconds before. "What ya reading," Jake inquires as he makes a right turn into a carpark. "Just some files," you say quickly looking over the files for useful information. You see right now every case has been quite quiet. Nothing too big and exciting, somehow everything around the place just stayed calm. No big schemes or murders. No big plans, just a bunch of possibilities but no for sure facts. You sigh as the files don't get you far and put your phone down.

Jake slowly parks the car and sets it into parking mode, he turns to you and says, "How's Kai?" Jake says as a conversation starter. Him and Kai haven't seen each other since the time at the park three weeks back but Kai has been asking about Alfie ever since. The kid loves the dog and you've been telling Jake that Kai has been constantly asking about Alfie and ever since then Jake asks about Kai. "He's okay, quite happy since his Granddad bought him some toys yesterday so he's been kept entertained," you smile, thinking of the night back when Kai was introducing his new teddies to the older ones so 'They could meet each other and welcome the newbies into the family.' "Good, it's great that the kiddo is happy," Jake smiled at you. You never knew that this would affect you in such a way but it did. Jake asked about your son with barely any knowledge of him and already feeling like it was his responsibility to check up on him every once in a while.

"Yeah, it is," you murmur under your breath as the two of you are called my Mav through the radio to respond. 'Hangman, Cobra, call in,' Mav's voice echoes from the radio across the whole car. Jake picks up the communicator and answers the call in. "Hangman here, what you need sir," Jake responds, reversing out of the parking space while looking over his shoulder to make sure he wouldn't crash into a car behind him and finally drives forward. 'There has been a murder in downtown beside the old factories. We think it may have to do with your guys last case. Could you two go over there?' Mav requests more than asking. This may be involved in the undercover case you were on, where you first encountered Jake. You look at him as he passes the communicator to you and you answer Maverick, "Me and Hangman are on it."

----------

You two get out of the car to see that the area is blocked off by police tap, officers and police cars. The media has already arrived but has been pushed back by the officers as they are getting threatened about filming crime evidence and are looking like they're about to leave the opportunity of the front cover alone.

You and Hangman hold out your agent badges to the cop that is in charge to not let people through the tap and point you guys towards an officer that could inform you about the murder situation. If this really had anything to do with the undercover job you had, this had to be big. The guy was one of the biggest ghost guns and drug dealers in existence and was so good at it nobody had the guts or well enough evidence to get him locked up for good.

"This is my partner Agent Y/l/n and I'm Agent Seresin. Our team officer has informed you of us coming to investigate," Jake says, shaking hands with the officer in command of the scene as you look around the surroundings. It was a perfect place to sell drugs. A closed off alleyway, no cameras in sight, big bins to hide evidence or cash and there were no good lights so getting away was quite easier than in pure light.

"Ahh yes, I was called about the two of you joining us. I'm guessing you two want to see the body," the office says leading the two of you to the body. You had no clue how this had anything to do with the mighty drug dealer but it's worth a shot to see. You finally reach the body and it's a man in his 30's, lying on his stomach looking like he was pushed off the roof. Cruel death, to fall from a 5 storey building and then collide with the ground destroying every part of your insides.

"So he died from the fall?" Jake asked but you were already looking around at the body and have a different theory. "It looks like he was chained and choked to death, there's also a lot of little stab wounds around his legs so the fall may have just been a disguise." You answer before the leading officer even could open his mouth. You were good at these things, Iceman has told you all about how to determine a murder. Growing up with him, you were taught a hundred different things from other agents which gave you a severe advantage. You knew more about your job than some division commanders and that was in a society filled by men.

"We didn't notice that on the pictures. The death will be determined by an autopsy," the officer just answered in shock and Jake just smirked at you. You were something different, your beauty, kindness and ability is something he's never experienced and somehow he wants it. He wants you. "Can we flip the body to see the front," you asks slipping on latex gloves, and already squatting down beside the body looking up at the officer. "I guess so, the pictures have been already taken so you guys have time till the autopsy group arrives," answered the officer as you hold your arm upwards, handing Jake a pair of gloves, which he slips on those muscular arms that slightly flex from under the shirt he's wearing and he joins you by lowering himself down.

"On three," Jake says and you nod. "One… Two…. Three!" The two of you flip the corpse onto it's back and it's not a pretty scene or action. From the great fall heights every organ or bone has been crushed so while pushing him over it felt like moving some liquid inside a skin container. And the body's front is completely demolished. Face squashed against the pavement, leaving his face flat like a pancake, his limbs demolished in every different way and his stomach from underneath the shirt that he wears , covered in blood, has a great stab wound.

But that's not what your looking for. Your looking for a tattoo that should be placed somewhere upon his body. A sign that he belongs to the drug organization. You stare a bit at the squashed face and quickly come to recognize it. This was the guy who helped A* leave the building as quickly as he entered at your undercover mission.

"Cobra, I got it," Jake says slightly lifting up the victims shirt, to reveal the tattooed sign upon the man's lower stomach. You quickly rotate to Jake's position and take out your phone to take a picture. You send it to Maverick to show that he was right it was involved in the drug case and you get up and slip the latex gloves off.

"You know what this means, huh," Jake says as you sigh as the two of you start leaving the scene. "Jake, this means one of us will have to go fully undercover, no wires or anything, for weeks maybe even months or years," you say already feeling tears come to your eyes even though no proper decision has been made yet. The thought of having to leave Kai for so long crushed you. You'd miss everything, every little significant moment gone and you just couldn't do that. It would crushed you if you did.

Jake saw the tears come to your eyes and sighs. He doesn't want to see you cry. He has developed some kind of feelings for you and seeing tears come upon your face awoken some protective feeling in him. "Come'ere Y/N," he says pulling you into his chest and wraps his arms around you. The smell of his cologne tingled your senses. You breathe in the smell, that to you somehow became soothing, something you'd fall asleep to. Something for Jake has awoken in you at this very moment but you don't know what. "You're safe Cobra and so is Kai. And even if you end up undercover, I'm not letting you go alone. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you," those words leave his lips calmly but passionately, like if he made a deal with God that nothing will happen to you while he's by your side and the thing that has awoken something more in you is the way he gently kissed the top of your head. Why was he like this to you?

------------

"I'm home!" You call out through your apartment waiting for an answer from Tamara or Kai. "Mommy!" Kai squeals in happiness running to the door, where you have already extended your arms downwards and lift Kai up into a hug. His little chubby arms wrap around your neck and he rests his head on your shoulder. You re-hoist him up on your hip and smile at Tamara whose got up from the couch.

"Was he good?" You asks putting Kai back down but he still holds onto your leg, hugging it. "He was an angel, like always." She says smiling as she gathers her things from the counter and you take out your purse to hand her over money for minding your son. You pull out the notes and hand her a lot more then usual.

"I can't take this," she replies, as she looks at the extra notes. "You can, you've done so much. Now go, enjoy your day!" She asks you again if you're sure about paying her extra and you don't change your answers and for the laugh shoo her out the door. Once you close the door you look to your little boy who has already ran over to his toys.

"Come mommy!" He squeals in excitement that his mom can play with him since you arrived home earlier than usual. Jake told you he'll finish the paperwork himself and that you should head home to Kai. That again made you feel a strong feeling inside. "Mommy!" Kai called out again desperately, as you snapped out of your thoughts. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" You say plopping down beside him on the gray carpet and look at the new teddies Kai received from Tom. The were the ones he mentioned to his grandad a while back and Iceman remembered every single one of them and bought them for your little boy.

"Mommy I made names," Kai says to you pointing to his new plushies. Kai is one of the things that rock your world. Without him, you'd be nothing but yet he was so innocent for his age. To him the world was a fantasy of some sort of dream and you want to protect him from all the evils and nightmares. "Wow bubs, can I know their names?" You ask him, crossing your legs making a little gap for Kai to sit in. The young boy goes to sit on your lap in the gap you made for him. Kai, introduces you to every of his new teddies, tells you about their dreams in their little land and the meaning behind their names. He holds up a golden dog teddy and happily says, "I named him Alfie, like from the park!"

He really is the little boy who rocks your world and that he's decided to name his teddy after Jake's dog did mean something to you. It was a cute gesture and Kai was in the middle of his story how that his new plush Alfie is a prince of pup land and that him and Tamara have been told the secret of why he came to San Diego. Of course Kai led you into this puppy secret and you couldn't help but smile. Your thoughts break again as Kai asks you a question, "Mommy are you happy to be home?" Pure, pure innocence is what the kid is made from and you loved it. "Bubs, there's no place I'd rather be."

----------

Your dad was amazing at books that had a murder mystery. He read so many and was so well informed about all cases and difficulties in crimes. It was his job so obviously he was trying his best to be a expert. He set you up fake crime case files so you could test yourself and push your own limits. He allowed you to solve one mystery file a month. And it was quite ironic since he made enough files to last you till your eighteen.

You found a quite place in the huge house, a place for yourself. It was an empty study room that was quite and looked like a place of peace. All the file and clues were spread around you on the floor in a circle. Each clue aligned in order of appearance and each sign in the right direction. The case was a weird one, something you've never came across before. It was about a gun that was used in a crime on your victim, 'Kristy'. Apparently through the bullet scan and origin they found out that the bullet was shot from a gun that was used in previous murders but only was brought back to action every 10 years.

It didn't add up, there was seven murders committed in the same way but nobody could manage to do this for seventy years. You didn't get it, how could someone pass down a legacy of killings, a legacy of shootings and murder. Now that was out of hand, something no normal person would try to do.

"Whatcha up to, kiddo?" You turn around to find Iceman leaning against the tall, wooden, carved frame of the door. He take a few short strides and sits down beside you in the carpeted floor. "Where did you get this?" Tom inquired in shock, these kind of files are used to train commanding agents and a little eleven year old girl was on a path to solve it. "My dad made some files for me," you say shifting around more paper as if seeing the page from a different angle would solve the answer.

"Would you mind if I helped you?" He asked smiling, running one of his hands through your light, long brown locks. "Are you sure you don't need to be anywhere else or maybe want to spend time resting?" "Y/n, there's no place I rather be.'

----------

"What do you want for dinner bubs?" You asks the little boy as he is deeply embraced in the midnight garden playing on the TV. Like always the two of you have a routine; a quick bath, he watches one episode and you make food and the two of you eat dinner whole watching the other, after that a quick brush of teeth and straight to bed with the teddy family that you swear take up more space in the bed than the poor boy. "Mac and cheese with toastie!" He calls out excitedly as you pull out the ingredients to quickly make some Mac and cheese.

You grab some bread and cut it into equal slices, delicately to not make any holes or gaps in it; spreading some garlic onto each slice of cut bread with some new fresh butter, as you insert the pan into the oven. You mix the pot that contains the Mac and cheese and look back over to Kai but this time you can't fully see the little head full of brown locks of hair. You walk back over to the couch to see the little boy fast asleep against the arm of the sofa. You don't have the heart to wake him up, no one would; he just looked to peaceful and cute in his sleep.

You quickly and quietly shuffle back to the stove, turning everything off to not risk a fire and walk back to Kai to lift him delicately of the couch. He lightly stirred in his sleep but doesn't wake. You slip into his little bedroom and place Kai in his big boy bed that is currently covered in blankets and pillows, obviously with teddies everywhere. You lay Kai down, covering him with his weighted blanket and duvet, kissing him on the forehead. You run your hand through the curly brown locks and get up to head toward the door. You quietly and slowly close the door getting one last glance at the little boy and shut the door.

As you were about to slowly head towards the small apartment kitchen, your phone violently vibrates in the back pocket of your pants. You slip the phone out of the embroidery back jean pocket and unlock the device with the four numbered code to find Jake's message shining up at you in misery.

Jake: Sorry about texting so late but mav just spoke to me, he's deciding the undercover agent tomorrow morning at the role call…

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amillieaway · 1 year

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prompt: snowed in

It was snowing in their common room.

Hermione didn’t sleep. Darkness toyed with her every night until she succumbed to the dusty lamp above her shoulder.

There was always a book on the bedside table. Soft leather covers with cracking spines, second-hand shop prices penciled on the top right corner of the title page; always under ten quid because post-war Hermione did not have the luxuries that her former self used to do.

Bleary-eyed restlessness kept her up consistently, unveiling highly unusual nocturnal activities in her shared dorm.

If someone had told her who would be Head Boy in eighth year, she may not have returned to Hogwarts. He would be cruel and condescending and completely unbearable. But Draco turned out to be a decent roommate. Tidy and polite and quiet, he kept to his room, and covered most patrol shifts, giving her ample time off.

Only, he was a profoundly dramatic sleeper.

Hermione raised the covers to her chin, shielding herself from a gust of snowflakes falling from the ceiling.

Forever in a state of apathy, Draco’s emotions were guarded heavily behind stony mental walls. Except for when he slept. Last night, their rooms trembled in the wake of a roaring wind storm. Hermione’s History essay flew across the floor, quills and bobby pins and sweet wrappers tornadoing around the rug. The night before that, the temperature dropped so low, her breath clouded; the trembling fern on her windowsill shed three leaves. Separated only by a thin wall, Hermione experienced the brunt of Draco’s unruly magic night after night.

She’d contemplated waking him, conjured a list of pros and cons. He would be embarrassed. He might lash out. But his unconscious was too heartbreaking to stomach. Every night was cold, chaotic, a shade, or many, uncomfortable. Leaving him alone would be a disservice to them both.

Clumsily, she wiggled into yesterday’s socks, tugging them above her knees. The carpet was damp beneath her feet. She wore cotton shorts and a tank, her blanket tucked tightly around her shoulders.

She paused behind his door.

Boys were always more agreeable after sugar.

She detoured.

Minutes later, Hermione crossed the corridor’s frosty white floors, mug in hand, entering Draco’s room without knocking. Snow melted into a layer of glimmering wet upon her shoulders.

Draco slept on his side, hugging himself, brows furrowed.

Hermione called his name once, quietly, and again, louder, when he didn’t stir.

Draco blinked drowsily. Then shot up like a spark. The triangle of light flooding the doorway illuminated the panic on his face.

“It’s only me,” Hermione said sheepishly, trying to sound soothing. “You were having a bad dream.”

He frowned, his hair sticking up in all directions. He was shirtless.

Hermione’s pulse quickened. “Uhm… I brought you hot chocolate.” She gestured awkwardly to the lion-head mug in her hands, cocoa-scented steam swirling through the clean boyish scent of Draco’s room.

He followed her gaze, appearing more confused. The mattress creaked as he shuffled away, silver-scarred ribs expanding. “Did I wake you?” His voice was raspy.

Hermione wanted to tell him about the snow. About the way his dreams manifested into magic. But like each enchanted dream before, any indication of it was gone. Her shoulders were dry. The floors clean. The temperature had risen to castle norm, which was never warm enough anyway.

“I never sleep,” she admitted instead, resigned.

“Never?”

“It’s difficult. My head’s not a happy place.”

“Nor mine.” He relaxed a little, repositioning himself against the carved headboard, a generous gap of space stretched between him and the edge of the bed. He shot her a pointed look.

Blushing, Hermione hugged her blanket closely and crawled up beside him. She could have told him why she was there, but the words would not come. If Draco knew the truth, he would stop sleeping. They shouldn't both have to suffer.

“Will you stay up with me for a while?” she asked.

For once his eyes twinkled, shot with exhaustion, but unguarded. And interested? “Only because you brought me hot chocolate,” he said, nudging his chin in silent demand.

She rolled her eyes as she handed him the mug, hiding her grin.

His throat pulsed as he swallowed slowly, licking his lower lip. Their fingers brushed when he handed it back to her. His skin was warm.

Hermione took a small sip.

“I thought you would be the shittiest roommate,” Draco admitted a while later, eyes fixed carefully ahead. “I thought—Hermione Granger? She’ll preach rules any time I toe out of line and hog all the bookshelf space and be condescending twenty-four hours a day. I nearly didn’t come back.” He met her gaze. “But you surprised me.”

A spark of awareness shot down her spine.

He took the hot chocolate back, drinking from exactly where her mouth had been, a sneaky smile curling the edges of his lips.

They sat until dawn, bickering but not seriously. Laughing, but sleepily and more out of politeness. They were just getting to know one another. There were awkward gaps, moments of wordlessness, ceaselessly thinking ‘what do I say next?’. But there was always a next, even if it took a while. A thoughtful next. A next that led to a longer conversation, and a longer one after that. Thighs brushing, then pressing, shoulders caving towards one another. Eventually, Hermione’s blanket encircled them both, her head resting upon his shoulder.

Drowsily, she told him, “Yeah. You surprised me too.”

For the first time in weeks, Hermione experienced the sensation of waking from a deep sleep.

#amillieaway #dhr #draco malfoy #draco x hermione #dramione #dramione drabble #hermione granger #drabble

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gojogoblin · 2 years

Text

jjk boys’ favorite body part of yours [pt. III] 18+

part III (final) featuring: geto, yuji, gojo

content: gender neutral!reader, some fluff, some light smut

read pt. I here | pt. II here

geto | wrists

It had all started when you came into Geto's store. He worked at a luxury jewelry shop, generally behind the engagement ring display. But his boss was on lunch and he had to cover the whole store himself. That was when you'd wandered in, absently swishing your iced coffee in slow circles to mix the syrup in better. You hadn't been looking for anything in particular, you'd assured him with a sweet smile. Just killing time while your friends shopped at other stores you weren't interested. Though, under his attentive gaze, you tried on a few bracelets just for fun. He couldn't take his eyes off of your wrists, so delicate and sweet as you held your hand up to admire the bracelet. Delicate. Sweet. Just like you.

Neither of you had expected to move in with each other a year later, though neither regretted it. His preoccupation with your wrists never ended, and he'd since bought you the bracelet you'd tried on, promising you there'd been a price drop even though there hadn't. Your smile had been worth it. At night, laying in bed, he'd gently brush his fingers along your upturned palm, the inside of your wrists, up your forearm. Sometimes it was soft enough to send a happy shiver down your spine. He'd lift your hand to kiss your knuckles, then turn it over so he could brush his lips along your wrist. It smelled lovely, too, your wrists and inner forearms, since you sprayed perfume there.

It wasn't always gentle brushes and sweet kisses though. Oh, no, he loved your wrists pinned to the bed, too, how he could use his thumb and forefinger to completely enclose it. He loved the weak attempts at lifting your arms off the bed, fighting until you decided you were helpless, handing yourself over completely to him. Most of all, he loved your wrists shackled, shining silver complimenting you nicely. The handcuffs were connected to the headboard; sometimes at opposite ends to get you spread eagle, sometimes right in the middle so you had to lift both arms above your head together nicely. You'd feel the bite of the metal with each pounding thrust of his hips, hear the clack of the chain at the headboard. It got him riled up beyond belief, seeing you reduced to a shaking, arching mess. Absolutely pleading to be free so you could cling to him.

But you always knew he'd soothe the pain after it was over, rub lotion against your sensitive skin in slow circles with his thumbs, brushing his lips along tear stained cheeks and quietly praising you for how well you'd done.

yuji | hips

The beginning of your relationship with Yuji was silly enough to make you giggle every time you recited the story, and though your friends had gotten tired of it by now, you both still enjoyed thinking back on it. You'd met at a Halloween party, theme being classic Disney movies. In a stroke of sheer coincidence, you'd both chosen Aladdin for inspiration, and both come to the party as the genie. Spotting each other across the room, you'd both instantly pointed at each other with a laugh. As cheesy as it sounded, the rest was history. As innocently as you may have looked at him that night, his thoughts weren't. His eyes remained trained on your hips throughout the whole night, especially when you danced. The costume did wonders for you, but he was smart enough to know you didn't need it to draw his eyes to them.

His obsession with your hips was apparent in your everyday life. He slept with a protective arm curled over your side. He squeezed them to tickle you, relishing your surprised delight. He stood at the kitchen counter sleepily, waiting for his water to boil in the kettle for tea with his arm around you and absently running up and down your side, fingers kneading lightly at your hip. When he laid between your legs on the couch, your hip was a perfect place to rest his head too, especially because it was strategically placed for head scratches.

But of course it wasn't all innocent. Your hips were an anchoring point for him, fingers squeezing so tightly they bruised as you sat on top of him, thighs against his. You'd ride until your legs were shaking and your hips stuttering so badly you had no rhythm left. He'd just grin evilly from below you and tighten his hold, taking over to drag you by your hips back and forth. How could he not be obsessed when his hands fit perfectly, when you were perfectly designed just for him? It wasn't his fault he got righteous about it. Inevitably, you'd beg him for relief, and he'd growl and flip you over, never once letting go of your hips. Now he used his grip to press you into the bed as he drilled into you until collapsing, both of you in a panting heap on the bed.

No matter how mean he'd gotten, he'd always get up to go get a towel for you and leave a little kiss right at your hip bone.

gojo | throat

Call him gross, call him weird, but Gojo still stood by thinking you were particularly alluring when you were sick. Listen, he'd say. Let me explain, he'd say. He didn't have to say that, because he kept it to himself. But if he were going to, he'd say it was because you were sick when you first met. He'd stopped by your apartment to pick up his friend and your roommate to head out to dinner and then hit the bar, and first run into you in the kitchen hunched over a mug of warm tea. Your hair was a bit of a mess, you were wearing pajamas from years ago, and the dark circles under your eyes were quite impressive. And yet, he'd still been struck by your beauty, and then your cute little rasp of surprise. You'd apologized, told him you hadn't realized he'd come in. Instantly, he'd waved you off, and promised himself to bring you some soup from the restaurant. When he dropped your roommate back off later, he'd sent them in with the soup. Later that night, he was still thinking about you and your adorably hoarse voice.

His attraction to your voice never faded, even after being with you for almost a year now. In fact, it had even extended now to your throat in general. He liked to kiss the base of it, feel the vibrations of your hum while he was there. He watched when you were deep in thought, how sometimes you laid your hand gently across it, almost as if stroking an imaginary beard. He watched the silhouette of your body in the shower, see the graceful curve of your neck, your throat as you tilted your head back under the warm water. At night, when you struggled to fall asleep, he'd run his fingers gently along your face from your cheeks to your chin, your jaw, and linger on your neck.

He also liked to squeeze it. He liked to feel your throat constrict under his palm as he pressed you against the mattress, and liked the way you whimpered and gasped even more as he filled you. He never did it hard enough to actually hurt you; the thought of seeing you in real pain was horrid. But he'd found the sweet spot. Your cheeks would turn pink, your eyelids flutter. Your lips parted, but no sound escaped. He'd then let go quickly and relish the deep gasp, the way you turned your face to the ceiling as if to find fresher air. And he'd praise you all along when he was done, nipping and sucking on the blotchy skin as you both came down together from your highs.

The best part about the aftermath of nights like those? Your voice was deliciously hoarse.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x gn!reader #geto x reader #geto x gn!reader #yuji x reader #yuji x gn!reader #gojo x reader #gojo x gn!reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut #geto smut #yuji smut #gojo smut

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bearhugsandshrugs · 2 months

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The Gorsimp Chronicles - Chapter 15 Final chapter for part 1 of the series!

Gortash x Tav | Explicit

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter | Link to series page

Fic is written in turns by @bloodlessbhaalbabe and me! Dividers indicate POV changes.

Enver woke up feeling refreshed, clean, and awake, not having felt all of those things at the same time in quite a while.. He rubbed away the eye crusts in the corners of his eyes and moved to sit up against the headboard much to Tav’s disappointment as she muttered something under her breath as she blinked at the too bright room around her. Enver took in his surroundings, running his fingers through Tav’s hair and sucked in a deep breath. She nuzzled her face into his lower stomach and thigh, closing her eyes once more with a contented hum.

The world around them seemed so quiet with only the gentle sounds of the magic barrier and ocean currents below them. Enver’s stomach growled with hunger and he huffed an annoyed breath at his body tearing him away from this moment. He shimmied down the headboard just a bit and kissed the top of Tav’s head.

He could get used to this. Waking up with Tav wrapped around him, the ocean just below, and a full staff. He thought about what prevented him from instantly going back to his old ways, living in the lap of luxury as soon as his brother was put to rest and realized it was because there’s nothing lonelier than living a life so grand and having no one to share it with. Waking up and only having the people you pay surrounding you was depressing. With Tav, he had an equal.

“You know,” he said, making Tav stir and open up her eyes. “I don’t think… I’ve lived in an actual home before.”

Tav eyed him curiously, but didn’t say anything hoping he would elaborate.

“I mean I lived in a studio with my parents with Horatio as a child. I was sold to Raphael, but it really wasn’t much of a home. I bounced around living with groups of people once we escaped, but then I lived in Wyrm’s Crossing and that was, again, a studio I built next to my office,” Enver paused and licked his lip in thought before pulling Tav tighter against him and pressing his lips to her temple with a smile. “I must admit I’m quite excited for today. To start over… with you.”

“I’m so sorry you never had a place to call home”, Tav said gently and hugged him tight. “We’ll make a home, together.” She giggled with excitement envisioning their new life. “Actually… I thought we could go out and have breakfast near the harbor. Watch the ships…? I saw a cozy little place when I was out shopping. I’d love to go there with you, like… a couple.” She cleared her throat, still unused to the term. “And just sit there with you and order breakfast and have coffee and then go and visit all those houses you’ve selected. What do you think?”

“Of course”, Enver cupped her face and gave her another kiss before rising to get dressed. “I’m curious to see what little café has you so excited.”

Tav chuckled but didn’t comment on it. He was so silly sometimes. Oblivious. As if any place could have her this giddy, if she didn’t go there with him.

When she saw him beeline for his bag she jumped up and hurried over, trying to block his way. “I bought you some things”, she insisted, nodding towards the variety of shopping bags still sitting by the door. “You are wearing something new. Why don’t you… pick my outfit and I’ll pick yours?”

There was a slight eye roll mixed with a wide grin and he went over to look through the clothes she had bought without complaint. Tav pulled out his outfit, hoping it would actually fit: new underwear, a pair of dark brown leather pants not too dissimilar from what he usually wore, a shirt that, according to the boutique owner, was supposed to be worn half open with the laces only loosely fastened, black shoes that looked harmless and neutral on a first glance and incredibly expensive on the second, and a coat that looked not too differently from his favorite one that he used to wear back in Baldur’s Gate, with intricate golden embroidery but overall more subdued and befitting a quiet, assertive ruler.

“Here”, she beamed, laying out the outfit on the bed. “I’ll only let you change if any of that doesn’t fit.”

Enver walked up behind Tav and looked over the outfit, nodding his head in approval before wrapping his arms around her and kissing her neck.

“Once again, I am impressed by your impeccable taste and style, my love,” he said in his husky morning voice. He planted one more kiss on her cheek and went back to the bags and began pulling everything out to make sure he got a good look at the items. Every so often he’d raise his eyebrows and show Tav her own item and go “I like this one” or “Good choice”.

Tav waited patiently on the bench that sat before the bed with her knees brought up to her chest while Enver took his time with his selection. He instantly went toward the boots Tav left on the floor and put them off to the side. He glanced over at his outfit again and made a small “hmm” sound. He took this extra seriously because he wasn’t going to have Tav walking around in an outfit that didn’t suit her and have it be all his fault.

It’s a bit of a chillier day, he noted, so he grabbed that blue coat she tried on last night as well.

“Are you just putting me in the outfit I had on last night?” Tav chirped and Enver chuckled.

“No, you don’t have another long coat and I really loved those boots and the way they pushed against your thighs,” He replied honestly, and somewhat distracted. Tav watched the way he picked up each piece and admired it, slowly deciding what would be best for her. It would be a lot more endearing if he didn’t go as slow as he was at making a decision, but finally he placed the thigh high boots, her dark blue coat, a pair of tight black leather pants, a blouse that was tight around the waist, but loose in the chest with puffy sleeves, and a black strappy bra next to her on the seat.

“Enver, there’s no underwear,” she said with a slight huff.

“I didn’t forget,” he said before pulling on the outfit she laid out for him without another word.

Tav rolled her eyes and stifled a laugh, trying to appear more offended than she actually was. Feeling a little spiteful she just took off all of her clothes on the spot, making sure to drop down and bend over naked so Enver got a good look, but as soon as he would inch closer or reach for him she’d chuckle and insist on getting dressed.

The clothes she’d selected for him fit, luckily, and they looked like they could have been in his wardrobe the entire time, which comforted her. He was still Enver – just with something new, something he otherwise wouldn’t have bought himself, as she’d realized.

The pants and boots were ridiculously hot, and when she eyed herself in the mirror she saw that even the smallest shapes of her ass were in perfect view due to how tight the pants were, and the fact that she didn’t wear underwear. At least she had a coat to put over everything. Enver hummed with approval, happy with his choices for her.

“You look great”, she whispered when they made their way through the portal, “Thank you for letting me do this. And… not that I didn’t like how you looked before. But. It’s nice to see you get spoiled a little, too. Even if I had to do it with your own gold.” Tav blushed a little, still unsettled by the concept, but he didn’t argue with her which was enough for her to go on.

The café she’d spotted the day before belonged to an elderly halfling, and it had a breakfast spread that could easily match the quality and variety of the one at Moonstone. They’d been given a nice, secluded spot at a window, overlooking the ocean, and Tav stared out with a dreamy expression on her face.

“So”, she started after drowning a waffle in some sort of syrup, cream, and fruits, “Which house do you want to check out first?”

Enver pulled the papers out from his satchel and flipped through them with a crease between his brow as he read over them, trying to find the first selection. Tav reached over and pressed her thumb between his brows and he looked up at her with wide eyes and then a smile.

“I was thinking, why save the best for last when we can go to that one first and if it’s perfect, then we can spend the rest of the day purchasing furniture, staff, and getting our things shipped over?” Enver offered as a suggestion and handed Tav the piece of paper with the address and home details. She read over it like any of it was useful information to her and handed it back to him.

“And if I don’t like it?” Tav asked with a playful tone, “or any of them?”

“Well, then we’ll go sit down with a carpenter and I’ll build you a home fit to your liking down to every wall sconce and embellishment, my love,” he said matter-of-factly. Today, Enver couldn’t be bothered to be bothered. Tav would get exactly what she wanted. He took a sip of his coffee and slid his hand into hers over the table. Tav looked down at their hands and felt a blush creep up her face. This is what she wanted.

To be with him, have casual conversation, acting like a normal couple, where barely anyone would know who either one of them were. He placed down his coffee cup and called over the halfling for a refill while shoving a whole sausage into his mouth and chewing it with a pleased look on his face. He was behaving like this whole thing was so natural to him and maybe it was. Maybe a little piece of normalcy, or the best he could get at normal was something Enver also craved. It was easy to be at ease with Tav, at least now that she had to squeeze it out of him.

They finished the rest of their meal in comfortable silence and Enver pulled out his money bag, hesitating slightly. A lady doesn’t pay for her meals though. He glanced up at Tav who laughed and waved him off to pay and he slapped down way too many gold pieces for the food and drinks.

As they walked out of the cafe, hand-in-hand, Tav turned her head to Enver.

“You significantly overpaid, why?” she asked.

“There’s a few things that you always pay for in excess. Food service because they’ll remember you and be less likely to poison you later on. The staff in your home, so they’re less likely to sell your secrets and also poison you. And finally, your tailor, because they create you items that really set you apart from everyone else,” Enver said and Tav snorted.

“I do appreciate you being more diligent about not getting murdered a second time,” she replied and Enver gave her a half smile before pulling her along to the first house.

The house was tucked up onto the side of the bay with a perfect view of the ocean. It was far away from the docks to not cause any issues with the ships that came into port, but close enough that should Enver get back into the trading business that it would be a quick jaunt down to oversee any deliveries. The home featured a large courtyard and private garden with an extravagant greenhouse surrounded by flowerbeds. The entire basement was dedicated to the staff and they had their own private entrance that was separately gated and locked. The staff area featured all of the laundry rooms, the kitchen, their bedrooms, and the bathrooms, but it was in pristine condition and had enough rooms to house two sets of staff should they need to expand.

The upper three floors had plenty of space with the first floor having a dining room, a ballroom that could be expanded out into the courtyard for large parties, a sitting room, two bathrooms and a large library. Every room had high vaulted ceilings that allowed plenty of room to breathe. The second floor featured the main 5 main bedrooms each with an ensuite bathroom. The master bedroom had a set of two large doors that opened up to a covered veranda facing the ocean. One of the two offices in the house sat across the hall from the master bedroom that also featured an attached veranda facing the ocean. On the final floor, there was a large workspace also with a matching veranda facing the ocean, and two smaller rooms likely for storage, but could easily be converted into more rooms, as well as a large bathroom.

The only thing they would have to build would be Tav’s chicken coop, but that would only take a few weeks at most.

Enver and Tav walked up to the large double doors covered in intricate carvings and opened them to a stunning entry with dual spiral staircases leading up to the second floor.

Tav’s eyes lit up as she took everything in. The whole house was staged with furniture that, should they like any of the options, were allowed to purchase for an extra cost.

Tav couldn’t believe her eyes. This was the house Enver wanted to buy for them? This was where he wanted to live? With her?!

It seemed absurd, and when they first walked in, she pictured some random wealthy family living here – not her. It was nearly impossible to imagine herself in a place like this. But then she saw Enver’s face, and the way he watched her take everything in, and that grounded her enough to let reality sink in.

Tav shook her head in disbelief and started giggling. “Oh man”, she gasped, skipping steps as they walked through the large room that featured the staircases and would serve as the place where guests would be welcomed. “Oh man!”

Completely giddy, Tav made a little jump and hurried over to where the staircases began, pointing at the empty space between them.

“We should put a decommissioned Steel Watcher here”, she said with wide eyes, already picturing the metal construction watching over them. “Show off your genius and let everyone know who’s boss.” Tav giggled. “I mean. Me. I’m boss. But they don’t have to know that”, she said with a conspiratorially low voice.

Enver chuckled and shook his head, but she already pulled him into the next room.

“Here”, she pointed at a spot, “the band. And here”, she hurried across the room, unable to contain her excitement, “the dancing.” She pulled Enver over to the designated dancing spot and let him spin her a few times, both of them laughing lightly.

“Oh, Enver! Can we host a masquerade ball? I’ve always wanted to go to one!”

“We will host whatever you want, my love”, Enver smiled, watching her softly.

Tav giggled, giving him a peck on the cheek before taking his hand, pulling him up the stairs. When they got to the master bedroom, Tav gasped. The view was unbelievable.

“Gods”, she breathed out, “Can you imagine? Waking up to a view like that?”

Enver shook his head, grinning, “I can’t wait”, he said quietly, absolutely not referring to the picturesque view of the ocean.

Tav rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re adorable”, she whispered, pulling him in for a kiss. “I love you.”

She didn’t give him a chance to reply as she already jumped and ran to the next room. Everything they looked at drew out soft gasps or joyful giggles, and she made him stand in different spots while she described how she would move the furniture, or what color she would paint a wall, or what kind of activities she envisioned in each space.

Tav absolutely adored the garden. She recited a long list of flowers that she loved, but when she saw Enver stand behind her in silence, not having spoken in quite some time, she suddenly felt very silly.

“I… I’m sorry”, she said, shifting awkwardly on her feet. “I love it. But I didn’t even let you get a word in. I feel horrible.” Tav scratched the back of her head. “What about you? Do you like it? If not, we'll find another house.”

Enver smiled and held out his hand. Tav placed her hand in his and he laced their fingers together and brought up the back of her hand for a kiss. Of course he loved the house. As soon as he saw the mock ups at the bank he knew this was the one for them, but he had to be sure it was perfect for Tav.

“There's just a few other rooms I'd like for you to see and make sure they have your approval before I make an offer. They had said that this was just put up for sale and they're giving me an exclusive opportunity to buy this outside of the market,” Enver explained as they circled the courtyard, “so, if you want this home, it's ours. I just need to sign the papers. We could move in today. But before you make your decision let's look over the whole thing.”

Tav nodded excitedly and hugged Enver’s arm as they walked. He navigated them over to the side with the protected servants entrance. Enver had said before you always treat your staff well because they're the ones that could quite literally show off your dirty laundry. The magic barrier was not activated currently, but once activated only the people selected would be able to pass through it unharmed.

Once they get through the gate there are marble steps that take them down to the basement. They followed the steps and walked through the halls of the rooms, decently sized studio apartments in each room, a massive table in the center of the basement that nearly expanded wall to wall that could be used for eating, preparing food, folding laundry, or hosting their own community meals with the staff and their family if they chose to live together. The kitchen was grand with two stoves, a fire pit in the middle, a prep station, a large pantry with rows of drying racks, access to fresh well water, and a magical cooling refrigeration system. It truly was a kitchen built for royalty.

“This is probably the most luxurious set up I have seen for servants,” he said, a little impressed himself with the living conditions.

“Well, good, I'd rather not have our meals poisoned anytime soon,” Tav said, bringing up Enver’s list of people you overpay to keep on your good side.

“Exactly!” He agreed, planting a kiss on her temple. He then led her up two flights of stairs to the workshop on the third floor. It featured a large desk centered in the room toward the back so that the ocean view was on display. There were deep shelves in the wall for various pieces of equipment and tools and flat top wooden workshop tables against every wall with tons of drawer space. He walked up to the desk and slid his fingers against the fine wood before turning to Tav.

“And this would be my workshop so that I could work from home,” Enver said, dropping the silent ‘so I can be closer to you’ off the end but with the way he looked at her, it was heavily implied. “So, now… after seeing everything. Is this our house?”

“It’s perfect”, Tav smiled and walked up to him, pinning him in between her and the desk. She leaned up to kiss him, but just before Enver could run his hands over her back and start to deepen the kiss, she pulled away.

“Although…”, she said with a hesitant tone. Tav furrowed her brows in a perfect impression of looking skeptically across the room. “I think there’s something crucial missing here.”

Enver’s heart sank a little, his smile dropping, and Tav knew she couldn’t wind him up for much longer. “Where will we put my pole?!”

She grinned widely, dissolving the tension with a chuckle, hoping he would find it as silly as she did.

Enver exhaled and let out a small cackle. “And here I thought I was the only one with a tenacity for dramatic tendencies,” he said, pulling her back up against him, his leg swiftly sliding between her legs as his hands slid under her lapels and slid her jacket off her shoulders, placing it to his side on the desk. He grabbed her face with both of his hands and looked at her seriously.

“Your pole does not belong anywhere in this house,” he said sternly, making Tav’s face fall, but she squinted her eyes at him and that pulled out a smirk from Enver. “Unless it’s in our bedroom with a small stage attached, room for seating and tables surrounding it. All on top of a nice plush carpet. For my viewing pleasure, of course.”

Tav rolled her eyes as she ran her hands down Enver’s chest, pulling away at the strings that weren’t really doing much to begin with, and she ground her hips against Enver’s thigh.

“I think it’s only fair that we get started on christening our new home. We have a lot of rooms to get to,” Enver said, grabbing two handfuls of Tav’s ass cheeks and squeezing. Tav let out a small yelp and laughed before leaning up on her toes to kiss Enver, but before their lips could connect, Enver maneuvered them around and spun Tav until the front of her thighs were up against the desk and he was behind her. He gently pressed onto her back until her chest was flush against the newly lacquered desk.

“We’ve been walking around this house for hours and I’ve been thinking about doing this since the moment you showed me these boots,” he nearly growled as he pulled down her tight leather pants until the fabric was wrapped around her thighs, locking her legs into place with her thigh high boots preventing the fabric from being removed.

Tav huffed out a laugh. “I can see now why you didn’t make me wear underwear.”

Enver didn’t reply, he brought a strong hand down against her ass cheek with a loud smack , leaving a slightly red handprint. He softly trailed his fingers over the raised mark. Tav sucked in a shaky breath and turned to look back at him as he undid the laces of his pants and pulled out his hardened cock. He gave himself a few pumps before sliding his head up against Tav’s wet folds.

Enver chuckled at how wet she was, something he likely would never get over. Someone always prepared to take him because of just how excited she got by him.

“Perfect,” he muttered with an alluring tone.

He slowly pushed himself against her entrance.He took his time, working her open, sliding in an inch and pulling out until he was flush against her ass. Enver groaned and gripped onto her hips.

“You’re so fucking tight, Tav,” he gasped as he pulled back and thrust deep inside of her, pulling back her hips to meet him half way. Tav grabbed onto the other side of the desk to hold herself in place. “Walking around our house wearing the tightest fucking pants. Getting all excited about our future together… fuck. The things you do to me, Tav. You’re going to destroy me in the best way for the rest of our lives.”

He pounded his cock into Tav as a slew of praises fell out of his mouth. He was lost in her and how adorable she was with her plans and ideas about the house. How gorgeous she looked in the new clothes she bought. How she wanted to put a pole inside the house. He’d let her do anything. Buy anything.

He brought down his hand against her other asscheek causing Tav to hiss in pain and grip onto the desk tighter as Enver continued to fuck her hard and fast. He leaned over and slid his hand in between the tight line in between her legs until he found her clit, only able to squeeze in two fingers to circle the bundle of nerves as he pulled Tav back onto his cock. It was messy and uncontrolled. Enver was hazy with desire and lust.

Tav was holding onto the desk, her body being moved back and forth by Enver’s force. Her breasts were rubbing against the fabric of her shirt, squished in, but the slight discomfort only added to how turned on she was. Enver making use of her, praising her, letting himself go was all she ever wanted from him and the way he’d started to trust her with this side of him was still new and exciting to her.

She dug her nails into the hard edge of the desk, uselessly trying to get a better grip. She felt a nail break off, but it didn’t matter. “Fuck”, she moaned out when Enver started to circle her clit with his fingers, his forearm pressing into her flesh, “feels like you’re going to destroy me first.”

Enver briefly slowed down, but Tav shook her head. “Don’t fucking stop”, she groaned out, and that was all he needed to hear. He picked his pace back up immediately, cursing out something she didn’t quite catch.

His fingers’ movements turned sloppy and jerky, with him clearly trying his best but being almost too lost in her to be able to actually coordinate the way he rubbed over her sensitive spots. It was incredibly hot. Tav wanted to tell him how good he was being to her, that he could use her like this any time he wanted, bend her over, fill her up, any time of day, but she couldn’t get the words out – not quite there yet anymore either.

Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to drown in the sensations. Enver was panting, and grunting, and she felt a drop of sweat land on her ass; and when he dug his nails into her hips so deeply that it hurt it sent her over the edge.

Tav came with more groan than moan, her body bucking into Enver and away from the desk, with her legs still locked in place by her boots and draped down pants. Her sweaty palms slipped off the edge of the desk and her body was pushed much farther onto the desk than before, leading to Enver tightening his grip on her even more, pulling her down so forcefully her overstimulated core clenched around him with desperation.

Behind her, Enver began to shudder as he was nearing release.

Enver only had three more thrusts in him until he slammed himself all the way in and hit his release. He let out a groan with Tav’s name on his lips as he filled Tav, spilling thick ropes of come into her. His vision blurred for a moment as he rocked himself slowly through his orgasm, a small squelch pushed out his mess from her with his movements. Enver panted heavily and as he softened within her, he pulled out slowly, wincing at the overstimulation. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and gently cleaned up some of the residue dripping out of Tav before pulling up her leather pants and softly patting her on her butt once she was all put back together again. Tav pushed herself off of the desk and stood up, trying to get her bearings.

Despite Enver doing his best to clean up, she could still feel the way she dripped into her leather trousers. Enver tucked himself back into his own pants and huffed out another breath.

“So, should we go buy this house now?” He laughed and wrapped his arms around Tav before giving her a big kiss and picking her up just for a moment to give her a quick spin around. Gods, he was in love with her. “We should also hold off on getting staff for at least one night while we go through the servants quarters.”

Tav shook her head and laughed with him before she was set back down on the floor.

“Alright, let’s get a move on. I’m going to need a change of pants soon anyway,” she said. She couldn’t tell if his cheeks were still red from their activities or from her comment, but regardless, she grinned up at him, took his hands in hers and led them down the stairs and out the door to get the paperwork all taken care of.

On their walk to the bank, they discussed the various items that they would be keeping such as that very sturdy desk in Enver’s office, the long banquet table in the main dining room as well as the servant’s quarters, all of the intricately designed beds, and the benches and chairs that went with the tables. Everything else would be taken away and replaced. Much to Tav’s annoyance, she had to convince herself that because Enver was buying the house, that also meant everything inside of the house as well was included in that cost. She allowed herself to use his funds and blew through a large chunk of money furnishing and decorating every single room.

She put great care into the servants quarters as well making sure they were provided all of the supplies needed to live a more than bare minimum comfortable lifestyle, but feel as though their home was just as lavish as theirs even if they only lived in a studio apartment in a basement of a mansion. She commissioned a carpenter to dig up the sides of the mansion in a few spots to put in windows so they had natural light coming in and also made sure the running water didn’t just go to the upper bedrooms. Once the servants quarters were finished in about a week, they ran through the interviews to see who would be the best fit for the maids, the chef and kitchen staff, the stablehand, the landscapers, Tav’s lady-in-waiting, and Gortash’s equerry.

Tav also commissioned a carpenter to build her a large chicken coop and a fenced area near her garden as well as a custom pole right in the center of their bedroom as Enver insisted. The only things he added to the order was to change out the wooden tubs with something more concrete and large enough to comfortably fit three to four people and to slightly change the layout of his office and workshop to add more tables compared to the shelves.

In most cases, all of these requests would have taken months to accomplish, but with Enver’s seemingly endless savings, they were able to hire over 50 men to finish this within just a month. Enver meticulously oversaw the entire operation and often found himself joining in and doing some things himself when they were not up to his standard. Tav, more than once, had to pull away a sweaty, sleeves rolled up Enver Gortash on his knees with dirt on his new clothes, taking over the job he’s specifically paid other professionals to perform. It was sweet how much he cared though, she had to admit.

Lastly, Enver wanted to follow through on making sure Tav felt truly at home in this mansion of theirs, so he did two things. At the signing, when the banker slid over the final document which would solidify the deed of their home Enver neatly wrote in Tav’s name under his own name within the owner section. He pretended he didn’t notice the slight judging look from the banker as he did so. The second thing he did was hire a party planner to show up one day while he was out at the docks to talk to Tav about her masquerade housewarming party.

He would give Tav anything she ever wanted – her dream house, her dream ball, her dream life – in any shape or form, until the day they died. This, he already knew. Compared to everything else, all of his choices, Enver knew that honoring this unspoken promise to her would be his knew occupation: one that he chose freely and daily, and that was so different from any of the work he’d done before. Smiling softly, he turned to Tav.

This was the beginning of something wonderful.

#enver gortash #gorsimp #gortash x tav #tavtash #more parts coming soon in a new fic as part of the series #so best go and bookmark that!#or subscribe to the series which would be even better

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loverontheleft · 4 months

Text

Strip Poker (revised)

Original request: ooo I have a suggestion. So what if b is hosting like a poker night or some sort of game night with his guy friends and the reader is bored watching so she pulls up a chair beside him and then starts messing with him under the table and gives him a hand job? Haha sorry if that’s stupid - O DAMN BUT WHAT IF poker turns into (totally consensual, all parties very much cool with it) strip poker which just makes b hot because he knows he’s the only one who actually gets to touch you, his friends might get to look at you, might even fantasize about you, but it’s his bed you’re in, and goddamn if he doesn’t wanna flaunt that fact occasionally

Brendon x reader.

Warnings: language, dirty talk, arguably public sex, voyeurism, sex.

Word count: 3.8k➡️8.6k

-||-

You’ve had a very long day shopping with your sister and her children at the mall, and while you love them, they’ve exhausted you. All you want now is to curl up in Brendon’s arms. He’s wonderful at taking your stress away just with his presence, plus you love his hands on your body. The way he strokes your hair, caresses your waist and holds you close, or just spoons you on your couch makes any tension melt away.

You can picture your evening now: the two of you intertwined on the couch, Sinatra playing in the background, a bottle of wine and whatever he’s made for dinner on the coffee table, and the way his kisses turn more urgent and his whispers more suggestive before he takes you to bed. You can practically feel his soft tongue working between your thighs and his hands all over you; Brendon gets you so hot and desperate for him, but he always delivers.

“Brendon, love, you home?” You enter your home from the garage, drop your purse on the kitchen island, and listen, head cocked to the side. Your gaze shifts; through the kitchen window, you can see that his car is in the circular driveway behind the house, along with several cars belonging to his friends. You can hear a low rumble of chatter from downstairs now, and you remember: Brendon’s hosting a game night in the lounge of your newly remodeled basement.

It’s a huge space; what used to be one massive unfinished area has been renovated into multiple rooms. The stairwell opens into the lounge and game room, which in turn connects to the hallway with its multiple doors: there’s the theater with a fully stocked wet bar and walk-in wine fridge, three guest suites, a soundproofed recording studio and office space, and, behind a double-locked door in the studio, is the only room that isn’t quite done yet—what Brendon playfully calls your sex dungeon.

It’s a dark, luxurious space, and while you both agree you didn’t really need a separate area designated for sex—because you regularly fuck all over the house—it’s still nice to have an ultra-private retreat that’s dedicated to each other’s pleasure. With the walk-in closet’s shelves for toys and accessories installed yesterday, you can finally start unpacking the dozens of packages strewn across the floor and actually organize the space. Brendon insisted on stocking the room with duplicates of all your favorite things, mostly because he didn’t want either of you to be searching for something, only to realize it was two floors away in your bedroom. Nothing, he’d said, would kill the mood more than pausing to walk up, and then back down, two flights of stairs.

The only thing that’s left to add is the furniture; the rope rigging is arriving in the next few days, and the bondage-friendly headboard and frame should be here within a week. Meanwhile, the California king mattress and box spring are on the floor, waiting more patiently than you. You’ve told him that he needs to be stretched and hydrated whenever the bed is officially assembled, because you will be dragging him to it and keeping him there for many orgasms. You’ve been fantasizing about being cuffed to the headboard while Brendon works you over with a paddle, and you know he’s game to act out any scenario you suggest once the bed is ready.

“B,” you call as you head down the stairs, beaming when you find your husband, Spencer, Zack, Jake, and Dallon gathered around the card table in the lounge. Brendon has a deck of cards in hand, and there’s several empty beer bottles on the table.

Brendon’s eyes light up when he sees you. “Hi, sweetness! You’re home!” He beckons you over, but quickly abandons the cards to meet you halfway as you cross the room. He scoops you up as you fling your arms around his neck; his hands curve under your thighs, and he kisses you longingly. You cling to him, wrapping your legs around his waist and squealing a little when he moves to settle back in his chair with you in his lap.

“I’ve got you, my love. Don’t worry. So happy my sweet girl’s home,” he murmurs against your lips. You love when he holds you and uses his petnames for you around others; it’s just one of the ways he makes you feel special and brings a little intimacy to everything he does.

Once he’s seated comfortably with you straddling him, he kisses you deeply, his hands framing your face and tongue teasing yours, and you both ignore the reactions of his friends. They’re used to how affectionate you two are, and you’re used to their over-the-top responses. They always tease that you two are shameless, while Brendon always retorts that you’ve got no reason to be ashamed.

When he pulls away now, he strokes a thumb over your cheek tenderly while his eyes meet yours. “Damn, you are so beautiful, sweetheart. You had a good day? It’s late—did you all get lunch out? I’ll make dinner later if you’re not too hungry now. Or we can order in. Whatever you’re feeling. How’s your sister? The kids?”

You fill him in on your day, and he leans over to kiss you again, just as intently. “Sorry to pepper you with all the questions. I missed you today, babydoll. Now that this tour has been announced, I feel like I’ve got to take advantage of every moment I’ve got with you. Love you so much.”

You murmur it back to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re all breaking in the game table.” You turn to eye the pile of chips. “Poker?”

“We just now started another game. You want me to deal you in?”

“No, that’s okay; thank you though.” You snuggle in closer. You’d wanted alone time with him, but he’s great at making you feel special even in a crowded room, and you get along well with the guys. It’s a change from your anticipated evening, but not a bad one. And after all, they’ll go home eventually, so you can use this time now to work Brendon into a horny mess—you know he won’t mind. “I’ll just watch for now. You need another beer?” You twist in his lap to glance around the table. “Anyone need one?” The guys look at Brendon, and Brendon shrugs.

“If you’re buying.” He grins and swats your ass when you hop off of his lap, making you shriek with delight as you head for the small kitchen in the corner of the lounge.

“My love, I’ll always ‘buy’ for you.” You crack open the fridge, grab five bottles and return to place them squarely in the center of the table for everyone to grab. “As long as we keep the fridge stocked. But the next round will require a trip to the full bar in the theater, because this fridge is now empty. We should really think about putting a full bar in here too.”

Brendon murmurs that he’ll get the next round and talk to the contractor tomorrow, and then he pulls you down into his lap again, one arm draped over your waist with his other hand holding the cold bottle. You settle back against him happily as he kisses your cheek, but then realize you might be blocking his view. “Will you be able to play with me on top of you? I can pull up a chair,” you offer, and Brendon reluctantly nods.

“That’s probably a good idea,” he sighs. “As much as I love having you on top of me and in my lap, playing will require my full focus. I fear having you on me will draw my attention elsewhere, making me crave a different game—one for just me and my pretty girl.” He nuzzles your neck with this comment while his fingers stroke your waist.

Zack groans under his breath at the innuendo, and you grin, standing to grab another chair and dragging it to Brendon’s side. You might not need to do too much work to get him where you want him; his mind seems to be headed there already. “Oh, we’ll play later, don’t you worry. I’ll try not to be too distracting for now though,” you promise, leaning your head on his shoulder and resting your hand on his thigh.

-||-

“Shit,” Brendon groans, and Spencer chuckles, leaning forward to drag the pile of chips towards him. “I really thought that was a good hand.”

“It was a good hand,” Spencer concedes. “Mine was just better.”

“Fair enough.”

You rub your husband’s upper thigh soothingly. Zack and Dallon both folded in the second round, while Jake and Brendon both pressed onward enthusiastically, only to fall short of Spencer’s straight flush.

“Sweet baby, that feels so good,” Brendon murmurs against your hair as he turns to kiss the top of your head. You smile, slipping your hand up higher, pinky pressing along his zipper. You know he can feel it, because he inhales sharply, coughing to cover it up.

“Just doing my wifely duty to cheer you up,” you reply softly, eyes closed as you move closer and adjust your hand to cup him fully. He knows how much you like to tease, and you know how much he likes you to tease him. “Is it working?”

“Oh baby, you know it is. Alright, Dallon,” he sighs. “Deal.”

-||-

“Read it and weep, boys; read it and weep,” Brendon declares, showing his hand, and the others swear as they realize he’s got a royal flush. “You,” he declares, pulling you in for a long kiss, “are my good luck charm.”

You grin against his mouth. “So now would be a bad time to ask to be dealt in?”

He groans, and you laugh, speaking quickly to reassure him. “I’m just kidding; I’m happy to stay arm candy and your good luck charm.”

He shakes his head with a smile. “You’re so much more than just arm candy or a lucky charm. And you’re more than welcome to play. Double our odds of winning.” You nod, standing to retrieve another round of beers for the table, and you’re considering a glass of wine for yourself.

“Wait,” Brendon protests, standing after you and catching your hand. Your fingers now interlocked, he pulls you close. “I said I’d get the next round.” He seems to read your mind, because he adds, “and I’ll get you a glass of wine, doll. That case of the 2011 Malbec you like so much was delivered earlier. But feel free to walk with me; I love your company, and I’ll need help carrying everything.”

You give him a quizzical look, because you have no idea what wine he’s talking about. Instead of giving any clarification though, Brendon just wraps an arm around your waist as he walks you out of view of the table and down the hall.

In the back of the darkened theater, he grabs you by the hips, lifts you easily up onto the bar counter, presses a quick kiss to your lips, and then whirls around to grab more beer from the fridge. “Don’t move, babydoll. I’ll be right back. Let me just get them their beers first, so they don’t come looking and interrupt us.”

“Interrupt us?”

Instead of replying, Brendon winks at you and disappears back to the lounge where the guys are waiting. When he returns moments later, he moves with purpose towards you and captures your mouth in a deep, heated kiss.

“Thank god this is what you meant,” you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist and grinding against his growing erection. “Need you, B. Missed you so much today. I fucking need my man. You promise they won’t interrupt?”

His hands are in your hair, his tongue is exploring your mouth, and he groans your name when you scratch at his back longingly, begging for his fingers. “They won’t interrupt if we don’t take too long, so we don’t have much time,” Brendon murmurs, sliding a hand down the front of your leggings. “My best girl, always so damn wet for me.”

“Always,” you whimper, rubbing against his fingers desperately. “God, I’ve needed this so badly. Want to come all over your hand, fuck!”

Brendon nods and curls his fingers, smiling into the kiss when you whine. “That’s it, baby. All over my hand. Grind on your husband’s fingers; let me feel your pussy when you come for me. You gonna come on my fingers, all hot and wet? Wish I could lick and suck your clit, get you coming on my face and tongue, but—shit, you like that? Can feel how wet that made you. Yeah, you love the dirty talk, don’t you? Be my dirty girl and come on my fingers; let me lick them clean. Want to taste my girl.”

He hisses in a blend of pleasure and pain; you’ve dragged your nails down his back and are biting at his lower lip as you come. You’d apologize, but you know he loves the pain. Your thighs are tense around his hand, and you’re trembling from the way Brendon’s got his fingers still curled and flexing. When you finally go limp and are left clinging to him, Brendon slips his hand from your panties and slides two fingers into his mouth. He winks at you playfully as he shows you his tongue twisting around them, and you groan, scratching at his chest.

“That’s not fair,” you whine, making him laugh. “Don’t tease. My underwear is already soaked.”

Brendon raises one eyebrow, but chooses to say nothing as he finishes sucking his fingers clean. Instead, he helps you slide off the bar and holds you close for a long moment. You relish his warmth and the firm pressure of his body against yours; you’re already fantasizing about getting him alone after the guys leave.

He seems to share your thoughts, pressing his lips to your temple and promising you can have him soon. His hips rock forward a little, letting you feel how hard he is for you. “Soon,” he repeats. With that, he adjusts his erection in an attempt to hide it a bit better, ducks into the walk-in wine cellar, grabs a bottle to pour you a large glass of wine, and leads you back to the lounge.

-||-

You eye the pair of cards you’ve been dealt and consider, glancing at the three community cards. “Call,” you finally declare, nodding at Brendon, and he looks at you with interest as your other hand slips over the bulge in his jeans. He pushes more chips into the center for you, and Jake raises his eyebrows.

“Why are you handling all the chips, Brendon? It’s your wife’s bet.”

Brendon grins, saying nothing; his hips rock ever so slightly when you squeeze. “Y’all are probably being gross. We should do a hand check,” Jake muses and calls as well. You wonder if he has any idea of how right he is. They can all almost certainly see your arm disappearing under the table at an angle, clearly reaching toward Brendon’s lap. One thing you don’t miss about touring is the spontaneous ‘hand checks’ the band implements for you two; the ones that inevitably mean Brendon slipping his fingers from you or you releasing his cock during movie nights and any other group activities on the bus where you can get cuddled up together under a blanket. Fortunately, Jake seems to be kidding for now.

Zack calls too before standing to go to the bathroom, and you know now is your chance. Once the toilet flushes, you quickly unzip Brendon’s jeans under cover of the sound. He glances over at you, and you smile innocently, wrapping your hand around his length through his boxers. Brendon’s hips raise ever so slightly; you can tell he’s enjoying your touch.

Spencer deals the final community card, making you laugh merrily. “That’s a little scary,” Dallon comments, and you give him a wide grin. “That’s not helping. Okay; two pairs,” he states, sounding only somewhat confident.

Jake tips his cards. “Three of a kind.”

Zack laughs grimly. “Three of a kind.”

Brendon looks at you, and you look back; your fingers tighten a little, and you raise an eyebrow. He caves. “Flush.”

You smirk, stroking a hand over his cock to ease the blow. “Four of a kind, gentlemen.”

-||-

At Brendon’s nod, Zack has made a trip to the bar and returned with a large bottle of Jack Daniels and a single can of Coke. That round of strong drinks, plus your glass of wine and the men’s multiple beers, means you’re all more than a little tipsy. Brendon is leaning back in his seat; you’ve worked your hand into his boxers and are stroking a little faster. It’s probably the liquor’s influence, but you’re not worried about the rest of them seeing anything. Honestly, they’ve all been on tour with Brendon, which means, even with their hand checks, they’ve seen much dirtier behavior from you two than a handjob under a table.

Jake and Dallon once found the two of you contorted around each other in an empty storage closet, Brendon’s hand down your leggings as he loudly encouraged you to come on his fingers.

You’re positive they also witnessed The Germany Incident, in which Brendon had been laying naked on a green room couch with you, also naked, reclining against his chest in his arms and on his cock. He’d been fucking you with deep, urgent thrusts; you had your head tipped back to rest on his shoulder while he used one hand to tease your breasts and had the other stroking over your clit while he worked his cock into your wet cunt from beneath you.

You can still hear his voice, telling you to use your man, use his cock, come all over it, all over him, just let go, really soak him and the couch. He’d pinched a nipple then with wet fingers, making you squeal and cling to his arms. It only became an ‘Incident’ with a capital ‘I’ because you’d come hard and promptly lost consciousness—you later blamed the intensity of the orgasm, but also sleep deprivation from travel, plus some mild dehydration.

At the time though, Brendon had naturally freaked out when you went limp on top of him after shrieking his name, and—according to Brendon’s recollection of the Incident—Jake and Dallon had been there almost immediately to help get water, ice packs, and whatever else Brendon could think of—before he’d even had a chance to call for help.

When you’d regained consciousness, you were laid out on the couch, still naked but covered in a fleece blanket from the merch table with an ice pack wrapped in a t-shirt on your forehead. Brendon had tugged on sweatpants and was seated on the floor by your head stroking your hair, and Jake and Dallon hovered in the background. For the rest of the tour, neither could look at you without flushing deep red.

In hindsight, Brendon admitted, they’d probably been watching from the cracked doorway that had a direct line of sight to the couch. This had made you laugh; you’d kissed him hard and agreed that seeing you sprawled on top of him, legs spread wide while he fucked you desperately, noisily from underneath almost certainly had something to do with their awkward behavior.

As for Spencer, he'd walked in on Brendon eating you out in a dressing room post-show. You’d dragged your husband back there, begging for his tongue, and he’d dropped to his knees without hesitation. Leaning against the wall and hitching your dress up, you rolled your hips forward; Brendon had taken the invitation readily. The tip of his tongue on your clit with two fingers thrusting and spreading and curling in you had driven you wild.

You hadn’t seen him in six weeks at that point, and you were climbing the walls with desire. He’d been on edge too: you heard the zipper of his pants followed by the urgent sound of his hand stroking over his cock. Your eyes were closed in bliss, one hand cradling his head as he worked his tongue over you, and the other reaching down to spread yourself for him with two fingers.

Your eyes were still squeezed shut as you came with a sharp cry, your hips bucking and back arched off the wall; Brendon, his face still buried in your pussy and tongue moving frantically, let out a desperate groan that told you he’d just come all over his hand. At that exact moment, you heard the door open, followed by a low swear and the door slamming shut again. The only way you and Brendon knew it’d been Spencer was the set of drumsticks on the floor.

You can’t even pick the filthiest moment Zack has witnessed in your relationship. He’s found you both in various and complete states of undress in bus bunks, hotel rooms, showers, dressing rooms, elevators, cars, and, on one memorable occasion, an inflated lifeboat on a friend’s yacht.

Brendon had been on top of you, his swimsuit tugged down in the front just enough to get his cock out, and he’d pulled your bikini bottoms to the side so he could fill you. You can still hear the urgent squeak of the rubber and Brendon panting over you, telling you how badly he needed to feel you come for him. His low groan in your ear after you came and he finally spilled into you is still one of your favorite sounds. You didn’t love hearing Zack swear when he came around the corner and then mutter, “you fucking perverts,” but Brendon laughing in that exhausted, post-orgasm way of his and rolling off of you to bury his face in your neck is always fantastic, no matter the circumstances.

Now though, here in your basement, they all might get a live and up-close viewing of Brendon coming all over your hand. It’s not ideal, but you have no intention of stopping, of leaving your husband throbbing and in need of release. Brendon bites his lip, and you’re not sure if he’s close or if he’s just reacting to the newest community card. His hips are twitching though, and he’s giving you a long look, as if to ask, ‘how?,’ and also, just as important, ‘where?’

These are things you hadn’t considered when you started this little tease. You really can’t make him come like this; he’s wearing a dark shirt, and the way he’s slightly sunken down in his chair means he’d definitely come all over his chest. You’re pretty sure it has to be in your mouth. Not that you mind—you love swallowing for him. It’s just the logistics of your current situation.

You briefly consider dropping your phone and crawling under the table to let him finish in your mouth, but there’s a few problems with that. It would probably take too long, Brendon probably wouldn’t be able to keep silent, he definitely wouldn’t be able to maintain a neutral face, and it would just generally arouse his friends’ suspicions. Although, and you glance around the table, you can get rid of them temporarily by appealing to their stomachs.

“Jake, I got that French onion dip you really liked,” you say, trying to control your voice. “You and Dallon should head upstairs and get it. I’m too tipsy to try the stairs.” They nod and stand, and you smile to yourself.

“Zack,” Brendon mumbles, his eyes locked on yours, “will you show Spencer the list of new tour locations? They’ve added a few since we last talked. The complete schedule is in my office.” Zack gives him a confused look but nods, and he and Spencer head down the hallway to Brendon’s office and studio.

As their footsteps fade, you slip out of your chair and under the table. Brendon shoves his jeans and boxers down his thighs, groaning and coming the moment your mouth closes over him. “Jesus fuck, that’s it; swallow for me, babydoll,” he grunts, both hands in your hair as you suck greedily; your head is bobbing as you take him deeper and swallow happily. “This is exactly what I needed; goddamn, my gorgeous wife sucking my cock—making me come, yes, that’s it, swallow, honey—fuck, you make me come so hard; that’s all for you—my cock is all for you, it’s all fucking yours. God, you’d better believe I’m gonna eat your pussy later til you’re screaming my name; I need to get your sweet cunt all over my face before I fuck you the way you deserve.”

You can feel his hips tense as he finishes—he’s fighting the urge to thrust in between your lips. Normally you’d gladly let him fuck your mouth since that’s a good way for him to get hard again, but you both know you just don’t have the time. The guys could be back any moment.

Instead, Brendon’s petting your hair and breathing hard; you’re still between his legs, tongue softly licking him clean and your hand stroking his length gently when you hear footsteps.

“Shit,” you hiss, pulling off of him. Zack and Spencer come back just as Dallon and Jake come downstairs with bowls of chips and dip. You crawl out from under the table while Brendon tries to catch his breath. His friends stare between you down on your knees and Brendon, with his head tipped back, his eyes closed, face flushed, and his lips slightly parted. In your mind, it’s pretty obvious what’s just happened, but your pride requires an attempt at a coverup. “I dropped my phone,” you offer casually, wiping at your lower lip with your thumb.

“It’s on the table,” Zack points out dryly, and you shrug.

“Whoops. I’m drunker than I thought. Could’ve sworn I dropped it.”

“Where were we?” Brendon asks the question loudly to distract the group, and they settle back in their chairs, picking up their cards. “Spencer, I think it’s your turn to act on this round.”

He folds, and Zack deals the last card. It’s your turn; you fold. Brendon and Jake eye each other. Brendon ultimately folds too, and Jake turns his attention to Zack, who tips his hand. Three of a kind. Jake sighs and shoves the pile of poker chips to Zack before downing the rest of his drink. You stand and grab the bottle of whiskey, refilling the drinks in front of each of you.

-||-

“Dammit,” You swear as Brendon flips the fourth card. “Shouldn’t have folded.”

Brendon grins and eyes you. “You know,” he drawls, “you can get back in. For a price.” You arch an eyebrow, and he laughs. “Piece of clothing…or a truth. No dares when we’re this tipsy.”

Jake leans forward, rubbing his hands. “Strip poker; excellent.”

Zack snorts, while Dallon sits back in his chair and says nothing, but his eyes are bright. Spencer nudges Jake hard and looks between you and Brendon, who shakes his head a little, clearly amused by the silent conversation happening between the guys.

“I’m not opposed,” Spencer finally says. “I just don’t want…anyone to feel uncomfortable.” He’s clearly offering this to you; Dallon and Zack agree. You shrug, telling Brendon he plays dirty while tugging your hair tie out and freeing your ponytail.

He leans over and ruffles your hair affectionately. “You love when we get dirty together, doll. The hair tie will work to get back in for this round, but just know that if you lose…you owe another piece.” He looks at the rest of the group. “Are we doing all losers or just the lowest hand?”

You scoff. “All losers.”

Zack laughs. “You’re feeling confident, aren’t you?” You nod smugly as Brendon flips the fifth card. Spencer doesn’t react, Jake calls, you call, and Dallon and Zack both check. Brendon studies his hand, your face, and the community cards before calling as well.

Dallon and Zack both have two pairs, while Spencer sits comfortably with his three of a kind. Jake reveals his flush and you grin, showing off your full house. Brendon shakes his head with a smile. “Sorry, sweetness.”

He drops his cards to show his four of a kind. “You can take the truth if you want,” he offers casually, and you glance at him.

“Do you want me to take the truth?” You’re pretty sure you know the answer, but Brendon appears to consider the question as he takes a long sip of his drink.

“If you’re comfortable stripping, then I’m comfortable with you stripping.” He looks at you meaningfully as he sets the glass down, and you nod. You knew he’d say that. What’s left unspoken is that he knows his friends won’t be able to keep their eyes off of you; you both know that the possessive part of him loves when others can’t stop staring at you.

You both also know it’s a little backward, but you love knowing that they’ll look at you, think about you, and even want you —yet, ultimately, everyone at this table understands he’s the only one you’ll take to bed; he’s the only one you’ll ever want. You pull your cardigan off, letting it hit the floor.

The other guys are more modest and each sacrifice a sock, and you roll your eyes. “You’re all lame.”

Brendon laughs, leaning back in his seat. “They’re just starting slow because they know it’s gonna get a whole lot worse for them. Like you with that hair tie.” He throws a glance at you. “But someone feels confident—going right for the cardigan, hmmm?”

You nod, accepting the two cards you’re dealt and wait patiently.

-||-

“Take it off, baby!” You giggle, helping Brendon get his shirt off before standing and wriggling out of your tank top to reveal your blue lace push-up bra. If the guys notice Brendon’s jeans are still unzipped and half-open from your interlude under the table, they don’t comment on it.

“I don’t even mind losing, because you’re getting naked with me,” you say, reaching out to stroke his bare chest while he traces a finger over your bra strap.

“Gross,” Zack deadpans, crossing his arms. He’s won this round, while Jake has lost his other sock at this point, Spencer too, and the rest of you are shirtless. Brendon is gazing at you steadily over the edge of his drink, and you wonder what he’s thinking. Fortunately, you don’t have to wait long.

He sets his drink down and turns to Zack. “You’re just jealous,” Brendon tells him with a smile, and Zack grins, shaking his head. “You don’t have to admit it; I already know. Everything my wife brings to the table and she looks like this? Fuck, just look at my girl. We don’t mind you guys looking. How could you resist? She’s fucking gorgeous.”

You stretch and preen under Brendon’s praise, and he watches you hungrily. “Yeah,” you murmur, “you can look all you want—just remember I’m all his.”

Brendon finishes your sentence. “And more importantly, I’m all hers, which makes me the luckiest guy at this table.”

He beckons you into his lap, cupping your face as you straddle him. “I can’t even say I lost this last round when you’re on me like this,” he murmurs while he draws you in for a deep kiss. You return the kiss eagerly, moaning into his mouth when his fingers start caressing your breasts. “Can’t ever lose when I’ve got my girl half-undressed and on top of me, rubbing against my—shit, guys, go get more beer. I need a minute with my wife.”

“Only one minute?” Dallon teases in a slightly strained voice, but Brendon is already kissing you again, one hand working its way into your bra and the other grabbing at your ass to keep you moving on top of him.

“Go away,” you moan, grinding down against Brendon urgently while flinging a hand at Dallon and the rest of them. “Go get beer or something, and then count to three hundred.”

“You heard the lady,” Brendon mumbles, rocking his hips up to press his cock into you. “My wife needs five minutes with me.”

You hear their chairs push back, and you rise up high onto your knees above Brendon’s lap once they’re gone.

“You’ve got me alone for the next five minutes. Now what?”

“Now I make my girl come.”

Brendon slides a hand down the front of your leggings. “Fuck, your panties match this bra, don’t they? Can feel the soft lace; wanna get you out of them with my teeth and then lick your clit until you come on my tongue.”

“We have like four minutes left,” you murmur, rocking back and forth on his hand urgently. “You know I want you to eat me out, but we’re running out of time.”

“Grind on my cock then, babydoll; come on your man, get off from rubbing your wet pussy all over me. God, but what I wouldn’t do to get my cock in your perfect cunt right now and feel you lose control.”

He slips his fingers from you; you’re moaning loudly into the embrace, tugging at his hair, and pressing down onto his cock throbbing under you. It feels so good, but you both know that in order to come the way you both want to come, you need to really ride him. “Need you in me,” you groan, and Brendon nods desperately, telling you to do it, take whatever you need, he’s yours. His jeans are still open from earlier; it’s easy to grasp his cock and pull him free. You consider just shoving your leggings down slightly, but you know you won’t be able to straddle him as long as you’re dressed. Instead, you slide your leggings and underwear off fully.

Finally, you spread your legs over him again and, grabbing his cock to press it against your pussy, you sink down onto him. You gasp, tossing your head back as you take him inside you, whining as you settle in his lap. You can feel every inch of his cock, and it’s creating the perfect amount of pressure. Moving urgently, desperately, you grip his shoulders. “Bren, tell me—”

“Fuck yes; you’re so damn hot. That’s it, ride my cock, you’re my best, dirtiest—”

He’s cut off by Dallon yelling from down the hall that you have two minutes left.

You’re both breathing hard. “Running out of time,” Brendon groans. “Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock.” Order given, Brendon buries his face in your cleavage, licking and suckling at the exposed skin. You know you both need more, so you abandon his shoulders to shove your bra cups down. Your nipples now exposed, you gasp happily when he closes his mouth over one and starts rolling it with his tongue.

“I’m gonna fucking come,” you whine, grinding down against the base of his cock while he thrusts up into you. “Shit I’m close; right there, give it to me just like—give me your cock, yes, Brendon yes! Fuck me, oh shit, oh fuck I’m—Bren, now!”

He sucks hard at your nipple, and you shriek, tugging his hair and riding out your climax.

“Oh fuck,” you groan, still moving on him as you come back to full awareness. “God, you’re so hard—you gonna come in me, B?”

“Could,” Brendon grunts, gripping your ass with both hands. “Just need—fuck, a little bit more t—”

“Time’s up,” Zack yells, and you both groan. Brendon rests his forehead against yours and lifts you off of his cock. You make a small sound of protest, but you know it’s no use. Brendon gives you a longing look, and you know he’s just as disappointed as you are. You love when your husband makes you come, but you’d always rather come together. “Fix your clothes, you freaks,” Zack adds. “We’re coming back.”

Exhausted, you guide your bra back into place, slide out of Brendon’s lap, and tug your underwear and leggings on. Before you can get both up over your hips, Brendon slips a hand down between your thighs and moans low in the back of his throat. He loves feeling you after you’ve come for him, loves getting you sprawled out in bed so he can explore your body and see all the different reactions he can coax from you post-orgasm. You both know Zack means it though, and you don’t have the time.

Brendon pulls his hand back, you get your clothes back on, and you curl into his side, nuzzling his bare shoulder. He drapes an arm around you, kissing the top of your head affectionately. “To be continued, sweet baby,” Brendon promises in a low voice before sucking his fingers clean.

The guys walk back in, and Brendon gives them a not-entirely-playfully dirty look. “You guys are the worst. Not even a little grace period?”

They pile back into their chairs, and Dallon shrugs. “She came, didn’t she? What else was there to do?”

You roll your eyes and lean on Brendon’s shoulder, fingers grazing over his cock slowly. You love the way he throbs at your touch. “She could’ve gotten her husband off too,” you tell Dallon, who mimes gagging. “He was close, and you all cock-blocked him. But I’ll take care of my man later. Now,” and you direct this at Spencer, “it’s your turn to deal.”

-||-

You glance at the two cards on the table and wait. You don’t really want to fold, but you don’t have a good feeling. Sure enough, you end up with one pair; you sigh, going for the waistband of your leggings. Brendon’s eyes flit between your face and the delta of your thighs, and it dawns on you.

You can feel how wet your lace panties are, which means the guys would probably see how wet you are through them. That’s a little more than you want them to get right now. You make the decision. “I think I’ll opt to answer a question. Does Spencer get to ask it because he won this round?”

Spencer glances around the table, unsure of what to ask. “I yield the floor,” he jokes, and Dallon leans forward to claim the question.

“What were you really doing under the table when we came back downstairs with the snacks? We know you didn’t drop your phone.”

You exchange looks with Brendon, who just grins and shrugs a little. You take it as permission. “Sucking my husband’s cock,” you say casually, and Jake chokes on his drink. Brendon starts laughing, and Dallon points out that Brendon didn’t actually need to come during your five-minute interlude earlier, since you’d already gotten him off.

“I knew it,” Zack says triumphantly, prompting questioning looks from both you and Brendon. “I mean, I suspected. I didn’t know for sure, obviously. Although you did crawl out from under the table, wiping your mouth with that smug smile.”

Brendon keeps laughing and pulls you closer. “I need another, stronger drink,” you tell him, and he nods decisively. “Shots. Tequila, probably,” you add, and he grins, gesturing for everyone to follow him to the bar.

Once in the theater, he situates himself behind the bar, grabbing a selection of shot glasses, a bottle of tequila, and pouring across the glasses.

“Come and get ‘em,” he announces, and everyone reaches for one. The tequila leaves a warm trail down your throat, and you each set your glass down in front of Brendon. “Another?”

When you all nod, he fills them and his own again. You reach for yours, and he shakes his head. “No ma’am,” he says with a teasing finger wag. There’s a longing look in his eyes, and you think you know where his head is at. “You have to earn your second one. Hop up.”

You know exactly what he wants, and you love it. Doing body shots off of each other reminds you of being on tour with him in the early days: sneaking around, fucking in dressing rooms, and generally partying without any care for the consequences. Just as in love, just as wild about each other, but even more uninhibited and reckless in the best ways.

You accept his hand and lay yourself flat out on the bar, smiling up at him. His eyes roam over your body. “Jesus,” he sighs, taking you in with hungry eyes. “You’re so damn pretty, doll. I’m so fucking lucky to be yours.” With that, he reaches for your waist, and you know what’s coming next. If he’s okay with it, you are too. You both like showing off.

Brendon guides your leggings down, revealing your very wet underwear. You glance around the room in amusement. It’s just like being on tour: Zack and Spencer are taking another shot and studying the ceiling, clearly trying not to notice the way your leggings hit the floor, while Jake and Dallon are both openly watching Brendon’s fingers tease your skin.

“Don’t move,” Brendon warns you now, moving the waistband of your underwear down just a little to lick the newly exposed skin between your hip bones.

“Fuck, I love your mouth,” you whisper, squirming. Brendon winks, grabs the salt shaker, and sprinkles the coarse salt onto you, nodding decisively when it sticks to the wet path he’s left with his tongue. You reach down to your side for a lime wedge, placing it between your teeth.

“Don’t shiver and make a mess.” He maintains eye contact with you as he pours the shot onto your stomach.

“Fuck,” you hiss, and his tongue scoops up the salt, his lips suck up the tequila, and his teeth snap at the lime, sucking hard to tug it out of your mouth. Lime sucked and discarded, Brendon’s lips are back on yours, and he’s kissing you desperately. The combined taste of residual tequila and Brendon’s mouth has your head spinning.

“You earned your second shot,” he murmurs, but you’re not interested in just taking the shot.

“Let me take it off you,” you beg, sliding your legs to the side and finding your footing. Brendon grins, tucking your full shot glass into the waistband of his jeans while leaning against the bar.

“Should’ve known my baby would’ve wanted to get her mouth on me.”

“Damn right.” You lick greedily at his collarbone, pour the salt, and pop the lime wedge in his mouth. “You ready?” You hope he is, because you’re ready to make a scene. The two of you perfected the upright body shot during his Vices tour, and even though it’s been a few years, you know you’ve still got it. Even Zack and Spencer are watching you closely now.

Brendon nods, and you run your tongue back over his collarbone before moving down his body, lips closing over the shot glass and pulling it out of his pants, knocking your head back sharply to take the shot. You drop to your knees in front of him and, finally using your hands, set the glass aside. For the last step, you grab his waistband to bring him to his knees too, so you can seize the lime from his mouth.

“Well shit,” Jake breathes, and Brendon laughs, tugging you close and kissing you deeply. He rocks back off his knees and sits, his fingers running through your hair, and you need him.

“More,” you insist, crawling into his lap, rubbing against him. His hard cock is pressing into you through his jeans, and grinding on him in just your underwear is creating amazing friction. “Get your pants off entirely, B. Let me ride you again, get you coming in my hot, wet cu—”

“Audience,” Spencer interrupts, and you groan, pulling your mouth back.

Brendon is breathing hard, eyes dark and locked on you. “I’m gonna kick our audience out so I can fuck you,” he tells you, ignoring the fact that your audience is present and listening. “Poker night is over; I’ll see you guys later,” he mumbles in their direction without breaking his gaze with you, and they head for the stairs.

“Make good choices,” Zack calls, and Brendon flips him off without looking as he kisses you again.

“Once they’re out of here, you’re mine,” he tells you, and you rock your hips against his.

“I’m always yours,” you remind him and he nods, grasping your hair and tilting your head back gently so he can kiss your neck. “Bren, your mouth feels so good, need you to bite my neck while you fill my cunt; give me all your cum,” you moan, admittedly louder than you intended, and Dallon yells back that they’re still in the house. “Whoops,” you giggle, and Brendon grabs your ass, nipping at your skin.

“Bad girl,” he teases in a low voice. “Letting our friends hear you.” Your eyes flutter closed as his lips move over your neck and down to the swell of your breasts in the push-up lace. “They were so damn turned on by you,” he whispers, running a hand up your side to pinch one of your nipples lightly. “Blowing me under the table, sending them away so you could get off on my cock, letting me lick you all over in front of them, watching you drop to your knees for me…fuck babydoll, they’ll never admit it, but they are so hot for you. Their wives and girlfriends are in for such a good fuck when they get home.”

“God, Brendon…you like your friends getting all horny from me?” You’re murmuring this in his ear as you snake a hand down the front of his boxers. He groans, and you grasp his cock, jerking him off slowly with one hand while the other shoves at his jeans. “You like that, B?”

“Yeah, fucking love it. Love letting them see how goddamn sexy you are, letting them see exactly why I’m so fucking wild about you. Letting them see how I’m wrapped around your finger, completely yours—you’re the only one who gets me, and I’m the only one who gets you.” He moves to your mouth and lets his tongue explore before pulling back. “I don’t quite remember when, except that you were in the bathroom— but Jake leaned over and asked how good of a girl you really are.”

You arch an eyebrow in question, and Brendon smirks. “I told them you let me fuck you any and every day, in any and every way I want, and you don’t just let me; you positively beg for it. You say my name so sweetly when you come and then you plead with me to come in you.” While the possessive part of him loves others getting turned on by you, the possessive part of you loves when he brags about your sex life.

His fingers slip down between your bodies, and he groans when he feels how wet you still are. “And you get so damn wet for me; you really want me to fuck you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper urgently, bucking against his fingers. “Give it to me, Brendon. Fingers, tongue, cock. Anything, just give it to me.” He brushes a hand over the side of your face.

“And you beg so nicely too,” he comments, rocking up on his knees a little bit to shove his jeans down further, arm tightening around you so you won’t slip backwards. “Slide your panties to the side, honey, and ride my cock, bounce on it like we love.” You obey, body quaking when he’s fully in you. “That’s my best girl,” he groans quietly, unsnapping your bra as you work yourself along his length. “Love watching your tits move while you take my cock.”

“Brendon, you feel so good,” you whimper, and he bites your earlobe. You love being on top, because you can control the exact pace and angle; you can make sure his cock presses right where you want and guarantee you’ll come hard. Plus, the look on his face is always incredible—you love knowing he’s feeling that good just from having you on him. However, sometimes you really want him to take charge and take you.

“Want you to fuck me, B.” He nods, understanding. He curves over you with a hand pressed to the small of your back so you’re lowered gently to the carpet and he’s above you. Your hips are still twitching against his, and he kisses you hard.

“Let me take care of you.” He grabs one of your thighs and lifts it over his hip so he can fill you at a sharper angle. His hair has fallen into his eyes and he flips it out of the way, fucking you quickly with short, rough strokes. “You feel fucking incredible,” Brendon whispers, closing his eyes for a moment, relishing the way you meet his thrusts.

You’re breathing hard, panting, and your fingers are digging into his shoulders. “Incredible,” you echo, desperate for more. “Make me come,” you tell him, eyes wide. “Rub my clit and make me come.”

“Not yet,” he groans, taking both of your hands and pushing them over your head. He’s leaning over you, forehead to forehead, and you arch to kiss him. It’s sloppy and dirty, your tongues teasing and moving together, but neither of you are complaining. “You know,” he pauses to grunt sharply when you contract around him, “fuck, your sweet cunt—you know I like to come together. But I’m so close, babydoll; give me a few more moments, and I’ll come for you.”

“Brendon, I want you to come in me.” The words are plain, and you’ve said them before because you always get the same result. He gasps, his rhythm faltering. “Come in me, just let go and come inside your wife.”

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses, thumb rubbing your clit gently until you grab his hand and apply more pressure. “Oh god, baby, I’m gonna—”

“Fuck Brendon, I—”

“Fuck, fuck, fu—gonna take it all?”

“Yes, fuck yeah, I need it, gimme that hot cum, oh my god, oh— fuck!”

“You want me to give your pussy all my cum? You want it filling your cunt, a hot, slick reminder of who fucks you best?”

“Oh fu—you fuck me best; oh shit, only ever you—god, Bren, fuck my pussy, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, yes, give it to me, B, fuck! Right th—oh—!”

“Coming,” Brendon finally gasps in your ear, and you let yourself go with a sharp cry as he comes, fast and hot. The heat spreads through you, and you moan, clutching his back and clenching around him. Your entire body is quivering, and his hips move in little spasms as your pussy milks his climax from him.

“I can’t—Jesus, Brendon. I can’t stop— you’re the only one who—makes me come like—” you kiss him, and he lashes his thumb over your clit. “Again; oh God, oh Brendon, baby, yes, yes, yes!”

“That’s my girl,” he whispers against your lips while you thrash under his touch. “I love watching you come,” he tells you and you tremble, coming down from your high. “You’re so beautiful.”

“The same to you,” you say with a grin, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath while running your hand through his hair. “Love you, Brendon. So much.”

“Love you too, babydoll. So fucking much.” He pulls out of you, groaning your name. “I’m gonna take you upstairs now, and we’re gonna take a hot bath.”

“Mmmmm,” you purr, tracing a finger down his chest. “And then what?”

“Then, tomorrow I’m going to call the contractor to have them add a whirlpool tub to our sex dungeon bathroom so we can clean up and relax there after.”

You raise an eyebrow, and he laughs, gesturing between your bodies. “Want to be able to drag my wife right to the tub after I fill her up with cum and make her soak my cock. Stairs sound miserable.”

“Agreed,” you murmur, clinging to him. “But while you’re on the phone with the—”

“Don’t worry, love,” Brendon whispers against your forehead as he presses a gentle kiss there. “I’ll also mention the full wet bar in the lounge, because that was a great, highly necessary idea. Even if it means we won’t be able to send the guys out of the room or sneak away under the pretense of getting alcohol.”

“No pretense needed. I’ll just tell them I want to ride your dick and I don’t want them to watch, so they need to go amuse themselves in the theatre for ten minutes. As we’ve learned, five isn’t enough.”

Brendon smiles down at you. “My best, dirty girl,” he teases. “So clever. But tonight, after this bath upstairs, I’m going to tease you by licking and sucking every inch of you except your pussy, until you beg for my tongue. And then, I’ll eat you out til you can’t say anything but my name. Once I’ve made you come a few times with my mouth and we’ve made out with the sweet taste of your cunt on my tongue, I’m gonna get you on your hands and knees, so I can give you my cock from behind, just like you like it.”

You whimper, clinging to him and nodding. Brendon strokes a hand over your hair, murmuring, “I know you love feeling me fill you like that, slamming my hips into your ass, working my cock deep into you, rubbing your clit with two fingers and making you lose control.” His soft voice is a contrast to the explicit words, and you love it. “What do you think of my plan, pretty girl?”

“I think you’re the smartest, sexiest, best man I could ever ask for, and I’ll come up with some very explicit ways to thank you for your hard work and generosity.”

“That’s all I ask, babydoll.” Brendon kisses you softly before nuzzling your neck and scooping you up. “Now, let’s head upstairs.”

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