#the m/f bait of all time

[drbtinglecannon]

oTL

HIMMEL AND FRIEREN WERE PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER BUT BEING DOOMED IS THE FUCKING POINT OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP.

IT BEING BEAUTIFUL AND IT BEING IMPOSSIBLE ARE INTRINSICALLY INTERTWINED. FUCKING. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[strang3lov3]

Spencer's

Summary: You and Joel visit Spencer's. You snag some toys, then steal some batteries from Joel for those toys. He's not pleased.

Warnings: DRAMATIC!Joel, implied age gap, Joel is jealous of certain inanimate objects, Joel is winnie-the-poohing it, overstimulation, masturbation (m/f), general filth, unprotected piv, creampie, brat-taming (if you squint), spanking, use of sex toys, joel is pro-participation trophy, joel reads Savage Love, soft!dom joel, dom!joel, mall rats!joel

A/N: thank you thank you thank you to @papipascalispunk for editing and proofreading this story. I am so thankful for her help and lucky to know her 🩷

W/C: 4.3k

It’s patrol again. You’re in that old mall with Joel. And he’s quiet today, like he has been the past couple weeks. No shitty comments or dumb jokes. Hardly any of his usual grumbling, just quiet and stoic. He’s wearing a green flannel, sleeves rolled up. Beard recently trimmed, his hair a little less unkempt than usual. And he seems nervous, antsy, bouncing his foot as you both sit on a bench, taking a short break. 

You could help him relax. 

“Victoria’s Secret is back that way. Kinda wanna try on some more lingerie,” you suggest, hoping he’ll take the bait you’re offering.  

“Pass,” Joel says, “You know I don’t like that place.”

“You could watch. We had fun last time we did that, didn’t we?” you reach for Joel’s arm and try to pull him from his seat and toward that dreaded underwear store. He doesn’t budge. 

“Joel?” you ask, confused by his reluctance.

“I don’t know about all that, hon. Thinkin’ we should go to that bookstore, find some more books for the library back home,” Joel points toward a nearby Barnes & Noble, “Yeah?”

You shrug, “Sure, after.”

“After what?”

“This,” you lean toward Joel and grip onto the collar of his flannel, pushing it back to expose more of his neck. Pressing your lips to his throat, nipping and kissing the skin as your hand trails down his torso, fumbling with his belt. 

You’re not wasting time. 

“Oh,” Joel breathes shakily, “That.”

“Yeah,” you say with a satisfied smirk, “That.”

You nudge his head to the side with your nose and try to push him back into the bench, pushing his flannel further over his clavicle to expose more of his neck, but he stays firm. He grabs the hand fumbling with his belt and pulls it away. “I don’t think so,” he says. You pull away immediately and Joel looks at you with sympathy, concern. 

“What’s wrong? What’d I do?” you ask, feeling insecure, self-conscious all of the sudden.

“You didn’t do anything,” Joel says. 

It’s been a while since you’ve been with him, he knows you’re probably antsy for more because he is too. But he’s feeling apprehensive. Each time you’ve fucked, it’s been quick and dirty. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. He’s not sure what exactly your history with other men is, but Joel fancies himself a gentleman and believes in the campsite rule. Believes that you deserve better than what he’s been giving you. Starting with, say, a bed. You’re exhausting, troublesome, and you’re like a tick the way you get under Joel’s skin, but you still deserve decency. 

Decency won’t stop him from fucking the living daylights out of you, though. He’ll just be a little more gentlemanly about it all, moving forward.  

Joel clears his throat, “You’re young, you know. And I–”.

“And you what?” your tone is snarky.

“Jesus Christ, motormouth,” Joel snaps, “Would you let me finish speaking before you start arguin’?”

You shrug but remain silent, motioning for him to continue. 

“I just think we should do things by the book from now on. Dinner, talking, that kinda stuff. You know, I just want things to be sort of…nice for you. I dunno the word exactly, just...nice, I guess.” You watch Joel blush as he struggles to spell it out.

“Do you mean romantic? Like a date?" Excitedly, you gasp, "Are you taking me to the Rainforest Cafe?”

Joel stares at you blankly before speaking. Rainforest Cafe is a no-go, you're guessing. “No. Not romantic. And not like a date. A date is for two people that actually like each other.” 

And just like that, the attitude is back. He just exudes charisma. 

You pout, “You don’t like me?”

“No, I don’t. I barely tolerate you. But, you know. I still wanna - want you - I want us to…I don’t know,” Joel groans. It’s entertaining, watching him try to spit it out. 

Awh. He barely tolerates you.

You smile, “I barely tolerate you, too.” But Joel won’t look at you, keeps his eyes focused ahead. Still nervous, he fidgets with his hands and continues bouncing his leg.

“Was thinkin’ tomorrow,” Joel mutters quietly, “Y’could come over. Could be…nice. Maybe. Probably not, ‘cause you’ll be there.”

“Yeah. Sounds nice. Maybe. Probably not. ‘Cause you’ll be there too,” you mock his low tone. 

Joel glares at you, “Seven. My place. Be on time.”

—

After your break, you explore the mall further. There’s a store called Spencer’s, which looks neat. Joel agrees, unaware of exactly the kind of store Spencer’s is, so you both go inside. There’s funny t-shirts, cool knick-knacks and tchotchkes. Joel is looking at various lava lamps as you make your way toward the back, and he follows you. 

Holy shit.

There’s all sorts of things on this back wall. Handcuffs, lingerie, lubricants, vibrators, dildos, costumes.

“Wow,” you say, “Looks like your kind of party, Joel.”

Joel rolls his eyes, annoyed, “Shut up.”

“This looks nice. Not romantic at all,” as you poke Joel with a vibrator. 

He flinches, “Get that shit offa’ me, freakazoid.”

“We could use it tomorrow. On our not-date,” you smirk.

“Don’t need it,” he huffs. 

“Wow. You seem confident about that,” you say. Joel shrugs, a look on his face you can’t quite read. “Whatever. Maybe I’ll take it for myself. You know, for alone time.”

His face falls immediately. Joel, prudish as he may seem, truly does not have an issue with masturbation. It’s natural, it’s human. But something about you doing it makes it a little… jealousy-inducing. The thought of you, one of those toys between your thighs, you making all sorts of pretty noises that he can’t hear; it’s just too much for him. “Yeah, knock yourself out,” he says sarcastically, “You’ll have a lot of fun with a battery-less vibrator.”

“You still have some, don’t you?”

Joel scoffs, “I do. But they’re mine, and I sure as shit ain’t sharin’ with you, ‘specially not for those things.” 

“Sharing is caring, you know.”

Joel rolls his eyes, “S’a bold assumption you’re making there. That I care about you.” 

Rude. 

You poke him with the vibrator again. “Quit that,” he grumbles, “Now stay here a minute. Gonna take a leak, I’ll be right back.” He drops his bag and heads for a private area nearby. You stare at his bag on the floor and wonder if he’s fucking with you, because he never goes anywhere without his bag. Better to be safe than sorry is what he always says. And you know he keeps batteries in that bag. 

Ah, fuck it. He won’t know. 

There’s a sign that says “buy two toys, get one free”, and you’re not one to pass up a good deal, even if that deal means nothing now being twenty-or-so years into a fungus apocalypse. So you stuff three toys in your bag, along with one of the lava lamps Joel was checking out. You rifle through Joel’s belongings and pull out a handful of batteries, then stuff those into your bag too. Six should do it, hopefully. After twenty years, a lot of them are duds. You’ll try the toys out tonight, then sneakily put the batteries back in Joel’s pack tomorrow night on your not-date. And Joel will be none the wiser. 

—-

Joel is livid. 

Someone called off patrol today, so he was volunteered by Tommy to fill in. He’d still be back in time for your not-date, and although the change in his plans was not ideal, it’s not what set him off today. No, that was all you. 

His radio had died toward the end of his shift. No big deal, he thought. He reached into his pack and fumbled through his belongings to find his spare batteries. Only, they weren’t in his bag. So he searched a little longer before he realized he actually knew exactly where those precious batteries would be. No doubt inside you at the moment. 

Was he in danger without a working radio? Could’ve been, but no, not really. Will he never find batteries again? Yes, he will. Joel’s crafty and good at scouting supplies like that, even when supplies are sparse. What did pissed him off, however, is the fact he knows you consciously went behind his back to steal his batteries for those toys. You’ve probably spent all last night and all day today fucking yourself silly, couldn’t have waited just one more day. He feels a little insulted, topping off the jealousy already simmering.

Joel comes back to Jackson around five in the evening. He should be showering, cooking, setting the table, and tidying his house. But instead, he makes a beeline for your place. 

He doesn’t bother knocking on your door. He knows you keep it unlocked, something he constantly advises you against. He closes your door, and hears your long and pretty moans coming from upstairs. He’s not sure what’s coming over him or why he cares so much. He prides himself on being level-headed, rational. But all of that’s out the door when he hears your moans, moans that he believes should have been all for him and him alone. 

At least he gets to catch you in the act. 

Joel tiptoes up your steps, fighting his urge to stomp angrily. Your bedroom door is wide open, lights dim. There’s a lava lamp bubbling next to you on your nightstand. You’re laid out on the bed, legs spread, one toy between your thighs and two others lay next to you. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you moan Joel’s name. It’s a nice touch. Maybe he’ll go easy on you. 

Probably not. 

He stands in your doorway and clears his throat, “Enjoyin’ yourself?” 

“Joel!” you yelp and your eyes fly open. Joel moves to stand next to your bed, his gaze dark and intense, his mouth forming an unamused frown. 

“You think you’re slick, don’t you?”

Your words are caught in your throat. Ohh, you are so busted.

“How many’d you steal from me?”

The vibrating dildo you were fucking yourself with is still humming loudly, and in the otherwise silence of your room, it’s deafening. You fumble to try to turn it off. 

“Oh, no. Don’t let me interrupt your date. That’d be awful rude of me.” 

Too shocked to make any moves, you freeze, dildo still humming away inside you. And as anxious as you feel, you’re equally excited. You’ve picked up on Joel’s jealous side, and you’d be lying if you said some part of you wasn’t trying to rile him up. 

“I just, mmmm,” you moan, “Just missed you a lot. Couldn’t wait for tonight.”

“S’that right?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You missed me so much you decided to deliberately go through my bag and steal my batteries?”, he spits, sarcasm lacing his words, “Yeah hon, sure looks like you missed me, fuckin’ yourself on that plastic cock.”

“Silicone,” you correct, though now definitely isn’t the time to bother with semantics. Joel notices you rocking your hips ever so slightly, chasing your orgasm as subtly as you can. You’re right, right fucking there. He can see it on you, you’ve got that look about you. Your breathing is shaky and your body trembles. 

“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve,” Joel hovers over you, one hand next to you on the bed and his other reaching for your toy. 

“Please,” you beg. 

“Think you’ve made yourself come enough, impatient goddamn brat,” he mumbles as he pulls the toy away from your center, tossing it aside. You groan and whine in frustration. Just three more seconds, you would have been there. 

Fucking Joel.

“I’m at a loss on what to do here, sweetheart,” Joel says as he kicks off his shoes before sitting on your bed, his back against the headboard, “Can’t fuckin’ take those batteries back on account of they’ve all been inside ya.”

“Joel, I did not fuck myself with your batteries. That’s…not how that works.”

“Shut up, wiseass.”

“Joel, I was gonna give them back, I swear. I just wanted–”.

Joel cuts you off, not caring to hear the rest of your explanation, “All half used and out of juice? How generous. Lucky me,” he muses, annoyed.

“Joel–”.

“Don’t think you fuckin’ get it,” he snaps, “Y’got no fuckin’ self control. You’re lyin’ to me, stealin’ from me, sneakin’ around. And it breaks my heart, ‘cause I was startin’ to look forward to our date.”

“Date?” you ask in confusion. Joel’s cheeks turn rosy as he refuses to acknowledge his slip up. The not-date turned actual-date. “Joel.”

“Need to get through to you somehow,” he ignores you, still too upset,  “Got a couple different ideas in mind. I guess we’ll have to see which one sticks.”

He pulls you up and over his lap, your head laying on the crumpled sheets. He presses a hand firmly on your neck, holding you in place as he gently runs his other hand over the swell of your ass. 

You know what’s coming. And it’s been a long time coming, at that. You've noticed the way Joel looks at you, his angry stare and how he chews on his inner cheek. How his hands ball into fists, like he’s fighting the urge to strangle you. Wrap his hands around your neck and just fucking squeeze. 

Crack. 

The sting of his hand striking your ass is as delicious as it is painful. He smacks you again, harder. And it’s just as incredible. That sharp bite, how it sends arousal gushing from your core. You can’t help the moan that slips from your mouth. 

Joel pulls you off his lap abruptly, onto your knees between his thighs, and faces you towards him. He wears a puzzled expression, like somehow he wasn’t aware that spanking is more of a reward than it is a punishment, at least to you. “Ya weren’t s’posed to enjoy that so much.”

“Joel–”.

“Yeah, we’re not doing that. Fuckin’ weirdo,” he interrupts, shaking his head a little. Joel thinks for a moment, staring at you as he contemplates his next move. His eyes flicker to yours, and you can practically watch the gears in his head begin to turn. “I think,” he lifts his hips to pull both his jeans and boxers down his thighs, and his cock springs free. It’s the first time you’ve really gotten to see it. Long and thick, prominent vein, blushed tip a bit wider than his shaft. Curly dark hair surrounding the base. It’s artwork. “Think we’ll try Plan B,” he says firmly as he reaches forward, wrapping one hand around himself to stroke his member, thumb swiping across the tip. 

It should be your hand. And he’s well aware of this, but he’s giving you a taste of your own medicine before moving on to the main event. You extend your arm in front of you, but Joel doesn’t allow it.  “Ah ah,” he tuts, slapping your hand away, “You can go play with one of your rubber cocks. Since you love ‘em so goddamn much.” His words are biting, acrimonious.

He’s throwing you off. Joel, who says he couldn’t give a “fiddler’s flying fuck” about you, is upset that your pleasure wasn’t brought on by his hands today. Joel, who barely tolerates you. “Joel, please, I want you. I’m sorry,” you cry, “I need you, Joel, been missing you so much. Please, Joel. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Layin’ it on pretty fuckin’ thick, sweetheart.” 

You cry in frustration, “Joel, I’m sor-”.

“Cut that shit out. You ain’t sorry. You’re sorry you got caught, ‘cause now you’re in trouble,” Joel keeps stroking himself, taunting you, “This is on you.”

Joel thinks back to when he was a teenager, when his father caught him with a lit cigarette hanging from his lips, how his father’s punishment was to make him smoke the whole pack, and how before he was even halfway through the pack the nicotine had made him sick to his stomach. 

Same idea.

Still stroking himself, Joel grabs one of the vibrators sitting next to you. It’s a wand type, light pink in color. He holds down a button and it buzzes to life, “C’mere. Between my legs. Do it now,” his voice is stern, authoritarian. You assume the position. Joel parts your legs wider, pulling your knees back before guiding your hands to hold the backs of your knees, keeping you open nice and wide for him. “You stay like this. Don’t move.” His flannel feels soft and warm on your skin. You feel his hot breath on your neck, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. Wordlessly, he brings the vibrator to your core. He drags it over your lips, through your folds, coating it with your arousal. 

Joel circles your clit with the toy now, and your hips to follow the sensation. The way you’re sighing, moaning, grinding with his movements, Joel can tell you haven’t picked up what he’s putting down yet. 

Poor thing. Fucked herself stupid on all these plastic cocks. 

“Yeah, Joel, like that. Fuck, feels good,” you breathe, “Right there. S’good.”

Joel’s silence is disconcerting. There’s no dirty talk, no snide remarks like usual. But you’re too worked up to worry about why. Within seconds, you’re coming. Sweet, breathy moans and whines falling from your lips as you ride out your high. 

Joel presses the button on the vibrator, taking it up a notch. The buzz is louder, the feeling intense, nearing on too much. Finally, he speaks, “I really do hope your thievery was worth it, sweetheart,” he whispers in a low, raspy voice behind the shell of your ear, “Now tell me, exactly how many batteries am I short?” 

It’s getting uncomfortable now. You wrap your fingers around Joel’s wrist and try to pull him away from your core but he doesn't budge, “What? Joel, let up.”

“What’d I say? Hands on your thighs. Y’don’t move,” he barks. You do as you’re told, and he hums in satisfaction, “Now answer my question.” 

“I don’t know, six? I–oh, fuck. I was gonna give them back. Please, Joel, I can’t– ”

Joel scoffs, “Six? You stole six batteries. What, were you stashing them for winter? Squirrelier than I thought.”

“No, just…you know how sometimes, they-they-they, and they’re old, so–Joel, m’serious–”, you whine, almost pleading for mercy from the overstimulation he’s causing.

Joel pulls the vibrating wand from your core, and you exhale in relief, resting your head back on his shoulder. He’s showing you mercy. Or so it seems. 

But the sound of the vibrator clicking on is back in an instant. Slightly different pitch this time. You pull your head off his shoulder and watch in shock as he guides it to your pussy, notching the longer end inside. He doesn’t bother going slow as he parts your insides with the toy. You worked yourself up plenty.

“Whatever. Damage is done. So here’s the deal,” Joel starts, “You’re gonna come for me six times, one for each of the six batteries you stole from me. You’re gonna keep count, too. Got one down, right?” but you’re a mess of whimpers and whines, which is the wrong answer, “Or are we doin’ more?”

“One, one, we’re at one. Oh, god. Joel, please. Please.”

“Y’don’t even know what you’re beggin’ for,” Joel mumbles. His hand crosses over both his and your bodies to hold your jaw firmly, keeping your sight set on the picture between your thighs. The toy sliding in and out of you, wet and sticky with your juices. The shorter end sliding over your clit. He’s hitting your g-spot with precision, each thrust sending you closer to the edge. Within seconds, you’re seeing stars as Joel fucks you through it. 

“Count,” he demands. “T-two,” you moan, but Joel doesn’t relent. A third washes over you just as quickly as the previous one. “Three, s’too much Joel, please,” you beg.

“Quit whinin’,” he mocks, “I’m goin’ easy on ya, considering the fuckin’ stunt you pulled. You wanna make it more?”

“No, please. M’so tired.”

“Quit your whinin’. S’a punishment. Ain’t supposed to feel good,” he growls, “You’re gonna give me my batteries’ worth out of these little fuck toys. Make you come until you can’t fuckin’ walk.” You’re still holding your knees back as Joel fucks you through your third orgasm. The hand that was holding your jaw is now traveling lower, groping your breasts and teasing your nipples. Hot, salty tears of overstimulation and exhaustion roll down your cheeks. You’re shaking, trembling, and he knows it’s all too much. He wonders how many times you came before he showed up. So Joel decides to show a bit of mercy, feeling that pulling three orgasms from you is sufficient enough. For now.

He pulls the toy from your pussy and tosses it on your nightstand. He gives you a moment to breathe, to let your legs down. He rubs deep and firm circles into your sore, aching hips before lifting your limp, pliant body up to straddle his lap and face him. His eyes are soft and sincere, his quiet way of telling you he’s still here. And when this is all done, he’s gonna take care of you.

He’s still gonna fuck the living daylights out of you, though.

“You’re doin’ so good,” he tells you, “Almost there.” You nod and Joel lifts your hips, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance and pulling your aching pussy down onto his cock with a soft groan, slower than he did with the toy. He knows you’re sore. 

He fucks you deep and hard, just how you like. You fall forward, resting your forehead on the thick line of muscle between his neck and shoulder. Whimpering his name into his hot skin, moaning somewhere between agony and ecstasy, “I-Joel, I'm serious. It’s t-too much, please.”

“I know it is,” he whispers as he bounces you on his cock, chasing his own release, hanging by a thread with the way you’re squeezing around him. You think Joel is feeling sympathetic maybe, as he decides to offer a compromise. “I’ll make–oh, fuck,” he gasps, “Make ya a deal.” You mumble incoherently against him, and Joel sits you upright, his cock stiff and filling deep inside you. 

“Right here. Look at me,” he breathes out, gently gripping your jaw to tilt your face up. You look at him with burning, tear stained eyes. He can see the exhaustion on your face. “Breathe, sweetheart,” he coos, “How many left you owe me?”

“Three,” you answer, breathlessly.

“Mhm,” he mumbles, rolling his hips slowly, “I know you’re tired, honey. Probably pretty sore. S’that right?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“Christ, poor thing. What a mess you got yourself into. I know you didn’t mean to, hmm?” You nod in agreement quietly as he fucks you a little more gently, offering you a slight break. “Just curious, wanted to have some fun, huh? I know how ya are,” his tone is soft and kind, but still teasing. 

You smile with a slight shrug. 

“Tell me you’re sorry for stealing, and you only have to give me one more tonight. Just gotta apologize, real nice f’me.”

“Mmm,” is all you can muster. You’re so spent, muddled and incoherent noises seem to be the only sounds your voice can make. 

“Words, c’mon now, baby. ‘I’m sorry, Joel’,” he instructs you.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you repeat, “For taking your batteries.”

“There ya go, sweetheart. That's it. Good girl,” he praises.

You sigh and collapse on his chest once more as Joel snakes a hand between your bodies. He finds your clit, his fingers warm and soft. With your face against his body, you bite down on his shoulder as his fingers begin rubbing slow, precise circles over your aching clit. No toy in the world could compare to the way his touch makes you feel. 

Just one more. 

He starts to fuck you deeper again, his free hand sliding up your up to grip around the base of your neck as he thrusts up into you, bouncing you on his cock. You’re liquid in his hands as he continues to steadily work your clit. That all too familiar pooling heat in your core is building back up for the last time, this one far more intense than the previous three orgasms he’s pulled from you. It crashes over you in waves, white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins. Joel feels your body tremble and shake, your fluttering walls choking his cock, pulling his own orgasm from him as he spills inside of you, filling you up with loads of his hot seed. 

God, how you missed that. Missed him.

It could have been minutes, maybe hours that you stayed seated on his cock like that, just breathing with Joel. He runs his fingers up and down your spine, strokes your hair.

Finally, you sit up and extricate your body from his to remove the batteries from the toys. “Here,” you hand them to him.

Joel wears kind of an affected scowl on his face as he takes them from you. “Batteries feel light.”

“Sorry,” you say.

Joel smiles softly, his eyes glimmering as he hands them back to you, “Keep ‘em. Got a stash at home anyhow. Now get dressed.” 

“Why?”

“Jesus, sweetheart. Y’got the memory of a goldfish. Cause we’re havin’ dinner, that’s why.” 

You bite your lip and smile mischievously, “Because it’s a date.”

“No. S’not a date, wiseass. You’re a lady and you deserve…hey-”, Joel stops himself, noticing the bubbling lava lamp next to you, green with blue bubbles, like the one he was eyeing back in Spencer’s, “S’a cool lava lamp. I always wanted one.”

“I know,” you smile shyly, “Picked it out for you. Just wanted to make sure it worked first.”

Please please please reblog, comment, send me asks! Talk to me! Your interaction means the world!

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[kyunzin]

𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞

character; 𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, 𝐆. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒. 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧

cw; picking up the phone while they’re fucking you (f!reader)

tags; slight voyerism/missionary position/ teasing (gojo), teasing/ doggy style/ degradation (geto), vouyerism/ degradation/ praise/ chokehold/ back shots (toji),sex tape/ voyerism/degradation/ objectification / missionary (sukuna), [yuuji makes an appearance at the end] (f!reader)

a/n; I haven’t posted in a while, if you requested it is in the making I promise, by the way if the spelling/grammar is bad it’s cause i’m writing this at 1 am my brain ain’t function properly rn

𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

✰ would tease you, pick up the phone and tell the person that picked up that you’re busy while still fucking you.

“why don’t you answer it baby, it might be important?”

he smirks down at you as he watches you glare at him even though your moaning, letting out a weak “fuck you” at his childish antics.

“c’mon, all you have time do is see what they want it can be that hard”

his pace doesn’t let up and you watch in horror as he picks up the phone to answer with a devious smirk on his face. he knows you didn’t actually expect him to pick up the phone.

“this is gojo speaking, ah nanamin it’s you. sorry shes busy but I can help you”

your quick to slap your hand over you mouth and gojo feels the way you clench around him and he watches in amusement as you try to contain your noise though he’s sure the sound of his hips slapping against yours are making it through the speaker.

“yeah, I’ll be sure to pass on the message don’t worry”

once the call ends he throws the phone to the side and continues fucking you however the smirk never leaves his face. you’re sure to call nanami back and apologise for gojo’s behaviour.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

✰ he would tease yout at first baiting you but he wouldn’t actually pick up.

“what would they think if they heard the pathetic sounds you’re making baby, you wanna find out?”

he watches as you shake your head and whine at his suggestion from below him but he feels the way your cunt tightens around him at the idea.

“you sure baby, then why did your pussy squeeze so tight when I mentioned it, clearly you want them to hear how much of a cock hungry slut you are don’t you”

it’s the first time something like this has happened so you’re not sure if he’s actually going to pick up or not, you’re oulse raising in anticipation.

“you think I don’t feel the way your sucking me in even tighter, someone would think that you actually enjoy the idea of someone hearing you, is that what you want?”

“no sug, please” you don’t know if your pleas will work as the way his hands grip onto your waist tighter say otherwise as well as the way he starts to reach for the phone ahead your pulse increasing. you believe he’s going to follow through with the suggestion until he picks yo the phone to decline the call and you sigh in relief.

“don’t worry princess, I’m the only one that gets to hear your slutty moans”

𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

✰ would pick up straight away and make you speak to the person on the phone as he fucks you.

“tell them you’re busy, make it quick”

your not ready by the time he puts the phone up to your ear and you don’t even recognise the voice speaking to you not that you have half the brain right now as toji fucked the sense out of you but you have to comply with his wishes as you dont want to be punished even though you know hes only doing it to humiliate you.

“make sure you speak properly otherwise they won’t be able to understand you baby”

it’s hard for you to speak as he has you held up by your throat so your words come out choppy in between your moans and theres no doubt that the person on the phone can tell whats going on. “ye -fuck! hello s-sorry about that. shit, can I um -oh fuck, can I c-call you back later?”

“taking to long princess, hurry up”

“fuck! m’ trying, please! no not you -fuck sorry. m’ b-busy right now so I’m gonna call you back- fuck!” toji doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence sending one particularly harsh thrust just before the call ends throwing it back to it’s place.

“such a good girl doing as i asked, but now they know what a dirty slut you are, taking calls while you’re being fucked”

𝐒. 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧

✰ puts the phone next to your pussy so that the person can hear the obscene sounds then next to your mouth to hear your moans.

“keep making ‘em pretty noises for me”

you don’t even notice when he picks up the phone but you soon realise that he is holding your phone down to where his balls slap against your ass making the wettest sound and you know that he’s recording a video as he usual does when the two of you fuck, he says he saved it for when he can’t fuck you l.

“hear that it’s the sound of quality pussy, she’s sucking me in so tightly. bet you wish you were me huh?”

you don’t even have half a mind to question what he’s doing right now as even though he’s occupied with the phone he’s still fucking you brutally shaking the bed with the force of his thrusts eliciting loud and long moans from you.

“my pretty little whore can take my dick so well, she even makes the prettiest noises for me wanna hear?”

you’re not sure how long he records the sounds your pussy makes but the next thing you know is that the phone is placed next to your ear for it to hear the profanities leave your mouth one after the other a proud smirk on his face as you do “ryo please- oh fuck, feels s-so fuckin good”

“my cunt takes cock so well, pretty sure it’s all she’s good for. just to be used as my fleshlight”

you soon later come to learn that it was yuuji the video was for yuuji after hearing your moans he may or may have not fisted his cock all night in jealousy wishing it were him fucking you instead.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍

@tyunixia @riowmie

[ivymarquis]

I would go nuts if you do something for Ghost! Make it filthy ? based on your f list , how about a combo of : chubby with size difference, breath play, breeding, light bondage, orgasm control and heavy aftercare? Or make it light , how about a combo of : chubby with size difference, oral , begging, slow burn, multiple orgasms and ofc heavy aftercare?

I really hope I didn’t go too far with this lmao

Hit all the notes except the slow burn, dealer’s choice on if this is a “no pregnancy, only breed” situation for kink purposes, or if Simon fully intends on following through with getting the reader pregnant 😇

Spoiled

Pairing| Ghost x F!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 3.5k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Breeding kink, orgasm control, breath play, squirting, overstimulation, acknowledgement of (but no use of) safewords, size difference, bondage, oral (f!receiving) possessive/simp!Simon, plus size!Reader, multiple orgasms, Simon is a touch mean at times but it’s all above board, and aftercare (or at least the plans of what the aftercare will be lol). I think that covers everything!

You’re wearing his favorite dress and Ghost is ready to climb out of his own skin.

Any other situation would have him pinning you on your back, the skirt of your dress pulled up while he pounds you into the nearest surface he can lay you out across.

However you work underneath Laswell which means he gets to watch the hem of your skirt dance across the skin of your thighs during a meeting he is rapidly losing all interest in.

He’s also not the only one looking which raises his hackles. The rest of the 141 are minding their business, eyes on Laswell up front. They know who you belong to, and have the self control to not slobber all over themselves like rabid dogs at the sight of a pretty girl.

It’s the other men in the room.

He can’t blame them; You’re bright eyed and sweet, pretty face with a plush body that Ghost loves tying up in whatever position he can think to put you in. And the fucking dress doesn’t help.

It is work appropriate. There’s a part of him that is willing to acknowledge that. It just flatters you perfectly. And the hem bounces enough to give a mouth watering peek at the insides of your thighs when you’re walking away from him.

Whether you’re oblivious to the eyes on you or you simply don’t care enough to acknowledge them, every time Ghost’s gaze settles on you your attention is fixated on him when not pointed at Laswell.

He’s suddenly seized by the thought that the ring on your finger clearly isn’t enough of a deterrent for unwanted gazes. You’re baiting him, heedless of the others drawn to you.

Sure she’s married but is she satisfied? He knows damn good and well some of the men- some of the specific ones in this room- are dogs. He can hear the question as they pace and look for a weak spot to dig under the proverbial fence.

He needs to make sure everyone knows you’re his. Clearly it’s not enough to show you’re taken.

His mind wanders, thoughts of filling you with him until you’re swollen with child. The evidence readily apparent to everyone that you’re kept satisfied by your husband.

The only thing that keeps his mind from spiraling completely is a well timed prompt from Price, forcing Ghost out of his head and back to the meeting he wants over and done with already.

Once home, Simon is able to drop the mantle of Ghost- at least for the time being- and turn his attention to you.

It really is his favorite dress on you, but it looks substantially better on the floor.

He’s got you laid across your bed, hands cuffed short to the headboard.

You always were handsy in bed. Wanting to pet and stroke and touch- it’s cute how you squirm for him once he deprives you.

“Si- Simon!” His name is a plea as his tongue goes to work between your legs.

He should be used to the sight and sounds that accompany having you bare before him. God knows the two of you have been together long enough for that- and yet every time he gets you to drop your panties his blood sings in his veins like the first time.

He’s fucking enthralled with you. Your smile, your laugh, how quick you are with a witty retort- always the smart ass until he reminds you there’s a better use for that pretty mouth. How easy it was to manhandle you in bed (how you fucking love it).

He adores how soft you are. Lush thighs spread over either shoulder as he goes down on you like a man who’s been stranded in the desert. One hand digging into the flesh of your hip, the other banded across your belly to keep you still as you buck in his hold.

He’s being a mean bastard, he knows. The pair of you have your little arrangement.

“Simon- please!” Your body strains against the cuffs uselessly. If your hands were free you’d be scrambling for purchase where you could find it- burying in his hair, fisting the sheets beneath you. Flicking his gaze up to your bound hands, he grins seeing how your fingers open and close in fists- needing to hold and touch and not being able to.

“Gotta wait for me, love,” he reminds you.

Simon controls your orgasms. Where you cum, when you cum, how you cum and most importantly if you cum.

Usually he’s magnanimous about it. Arguably he still is. If he really wanted to be an asshole about it, he’d be stuffing you with two of his fingers- the width of three of your own- and stroking that spot that had your body burning, eyes rolling into the back of your head while you cried and made a mess for him. Forcing you to fight yourself, to show a little impulse control, reveling in how you squeal and buck against him in protest.

Those soft thighs are trembling like leaves atop either one of his shoulders, splayed open enticingly.

“Pleasepleaseplease.”

He struggles to pull himself away, reveling in how tightly you’re wound. Simon could easily spend hours between your legs.

When initially cuffing you to the bed, his plan was to not let you finish until after he’d cum in you. Wanted to be mean about it, could hear you crying for him to finish you off. No point in getting you off, love, until I’ve filled that pretty little cunt to the brim. Whole lot of effort for nothing if I do it before, isn’t that right?

Simon spoils you rotten though and only has himself to blame for it at this point. Any time he manages to get you laid out before him it is a guarantee he’ll finish you off at least twice.

Hell it’s practically a necessity, the only thing stopping him from proceeding with his initial plan. Your body would choke down on him, usually needing to be fucked open with his mouth and fingers before being able to take the length of him without protest.

You’re squirming again. The break from his tongue lashing against your clit allows you to regain some composure but still twitching in anticipation.

Not that your respite lasts for long. Simon trails one of his fingers across the seam of your lower lips, watching how your legs jerk on impulse as his touch ghosts across your swollen clit.

“So sensitive,” he teases as you let out a plaintive whine at the contact.

His middle finger slips past your folds, sliding easily all the way to the 3rd knuckle. Giving a few slow thrusts, his ring finger soon joins.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your breaths and how absolutely wet you are. It’s filthy how his fingers squelch inside your cunt. Your moans pick up as he deliberately drags the pads of his fingers across that spongy spot inside of you.

Your brain seems to only be able to remember two words- “Simon” and “please”, chanting them as he works you closer to the edge.

“Be a good girl for me,” he answers cryptically, biting back a laugh at the tortured look on your face. Be a good girl and cum? Or be a good girl and don’t cum?

The hand not buried in your cunt trails up your body- amusement flickering across his face as you jolt from ticklish spots, his hand roaming up your belly, between your breasts and taking its place wrapped around your throat.

Your brain remembers three more words, the alternating chants broken by your accusatory “You’re being mean,”

He is. He’s done worse to you for sure, but he knows the accusation is also another plea. I don’t know how much longer I can hold back please let me cum and call me a good girl- I want to be good.

“You ever consider you’re a spoiled little princess?” He muses to you, lips hovering over your own as he awaits the smart assed retort he just knows-

“It’s your fault I’m like this,” there it is. He grins, giving a chaste peck that is wildly juxtaposed to the sinful things he’s doing to you.

The hand wrapped around your throat tightens. Not enough to damage your delicate wind pipe but enough to put the pressure on the blood vessels in your neck. He adjusts his other hand ever so slightly so his thumb can press against your clit, circling in firm movements in time as his ring and middle fingers work that one spot inside of you.

He gets the desired result- you clenching on his fingers, bucking and squirming uselessly.

“Sorry, what was that?” He asks with a falsely sweet tone, grinning as you hiss.

All the pressure from his hand is placed on the sides of your neck, your pleas and protests turning into mindless babbling.

Simon isn’t entirely without mercy, he just enjoys pushing you as close to the brink as he can.

“Come on then, love- cum for me.” He finally allows, watching with rapt attention as your eyes damn near cross.

His wrist and forearm are wet as you gush around his hand, grinning as your mess is timed with each thrust of his fingers. He doesn’t withdraw until he’s certain he’s wrung every last drop from you, although you’re not left unattended for long.

His grip on your neck lets up, doubly to let you recover from your orgasm as you gasp like a stranded fish as much as it is to have both hands free to position you how he wants.

Mindful that there’s not much slack to pull you down with, Simon holds you steady while he moves to place himself between your legs.

Your flesh is hot, swollen and needy as he lines himself up, one hand on your hip and the other grasping his length. Pliant as you are from your orgasm, it still takes a few thrusts to work you open enough to take the full length of him.

Simon is more than willing to feed you inch by inch of his cock, relishing in the wet suction of your body as you cling and clench around him.

“That feel good, pretty?” He poses the question to you as his hips clap against yours once you’re warmed up and taking him all the way to the base.

“Yes! Simon- yes!”

And what a fucking sight you make. Laid on your back, arms stretching over your head towards the headboard. Those pretty, plush thighs spread wide to accommodate him, giving Simon quite the show- watching as he buries himself in you to the hilt over and over and over again.

He damn near wants to drool watching how your body bounces from the recoil of each snap of his hips. Makes his mouth water- makes him want to turn you into a fucking chew toy, the need to bury his teeth in your soft flesh. His eyes will flick from one part of you to the next, reveling in the soft bounce of your thighs, your belly, your breasts- he couldn’t pry his gaze away, enraptured with the doe eyed, fucked-dumb look on your face when his eyes drift up high enough.

“Whose cunt is this?”

The answer to the question is obvious, and one you know well. It’s not even really the actual question he has- more the lead up than anything else.

“Yours!” He shifts himself slightly, the change in angle working for you based on how you bark out “Oh! Right there!”

Simon grinned, knowing full well what he's doing as he moves to his original position. “You gonna prove it, love?”

Your head must be swimming from the delayed response- frustrated at him for deliberately ignoring your plea and changing the rhythm on purpose.

“Prove it?” Those glassy eyes focus on him, the words sounded out slowly by your cock drunk brain.

“Prove this cunt’s mine,” a sharp thrust elicits a yelp that’s just shy of, but nearing the border of too much. “Oughta fuck a baby into you. Show everyone you belong to me.”

The way you clench down on him draws a grunt deep from his chest, telling him just what you think of that idea.

“Everyone’ll know what a good fucking girl you are,” he’s working himself up, winding tighter and tighter as his mind runs away from him entirely. “Lifting your” he staggers as your clench is timed perfectly with his thrust “-fucking skirt for me,” a few more quick thrusts, “spreading those gorgeous thighs,” his hands are gripping your waist like a lifeline- “letting me have my way with you and not- wasting- a- fucking- drop.” his last words punctuated with strong snaps of his hips.

He’s babbling now, face buried in the crook of your neck as each thrust draws staccato cries from you. “Gonna look so fucking pretty- not gonna be able to take my damn hands off of you,” which was saying something given the current rate he was either bending you over or tying you up.

You clenching around him like a vice wasn’t helping matters either. “Simon please- I want it. Baby I want it. Please cum in me-“ and how was he ever going to ignore a request like that? With you asking so nicely while your cunt works its magic on his cock.

His body dwarfs yours, all broad shoulders and delicious muscling from years of training and physical work that comes with the job. You’re caged under him as he raises his head from your neck and his mouth crashes into yours.

“Mine,” he groans out between kisses. There’s going to be bruises across your body as his grip tightens on you- one hand still fisting the flesh of your hip, the other hooking underneath one of your knees and spreading that leg out to the side, fingers digging into the skin of your thigh as you both grunt at the change in angle.

The noises the two of you are making are absolutely obscene; the slap of his heavy balls against your ass, the wet sound of your cunt taking every last inch of him. Simon’s damn near on the verge of hyperventilating, keyed up as he is between you being as receptive as you’ve been to his dirty talk, reciprocating by pleading him to cum in you. How your thighs are trembling, muscles wound tight as you strain against your binds.

He prides himself on not being a selfish lover. Even as worked up as he is, the forefront thought in his mind chasing his own pleasure so he can be a good husband and fill you up like you’re pleading for so so prettily- there’s still that one part that keys into your reactions. Making sure you’re loving every stroke he gives as he chases his own high, that those yelps don’t take a turn for too much instead of please god don’t stop don’t stop don-

His vision whites out for a second as his orgasm hits him like a bus. The coil that had been twisting tighter and tighter springs free as he buries himself in you one last time with a groan befitting a wounded animal.

The urge to collapse settles on him, but Ghost pushes it aside. You’re tied to the bed, entirely unable to take the brunt of his weight like that and wouldn’t be able to wiggle out from under him with your hands bound.

He grounds himself as he comes down by peppering you in kisses, hands roaming your body. Your face, your neck- anywhere he can reach until he feels his legs are steady enough to comply with what he asks of them.

You’re still keyed up, having been worked close to a second orgasm but not quite getting to cross the threshold before Simon. He can hear you distantly, mewling and pleading for him to finish you off and has every intention of following through.

Moving back down between your legs, a shiver runs up his spine as his over sensitive cock drags across the sheets. Settling with his face between your legs he takes a moment to observe his handwork.

Your cunt’s pretty and swollen- sensitive to, from how you jerk when his breath fans against you. Making soothing motions on your hip with one hand as he shushes you, his eyes focus on the thin line of his spend dribbling out of you.

Well that simply won’t do.

He uses one finger to trace back up your folds, pushing his cum back exactly where it belongs before sliding two fingers into you once again.

It doesn’t escape his notice how much easier it is this time, your fucked open body still soft and pliant for him. He debates teasing you about it for a second but the look on your face has it clear you’re close to crying- tension and anticipation having tears welling up in your eyes.

Spoiled the thought flashes across his head. Course it doesn’t help that he’s utterly whipped. He’ll give you anything you ask for just because you want it.

His head drops, eyes on you while his tongue lashes as your clit and his fingers fuck his cum back into you.

You cry and strain and buck against his hold. Simon knows he won’t have to wait long to feel you clenching around his fingers- it never does when he uses his mouth and fingers at the same time.

But he does wonder how quick he can wring a third out of you once he pushes you over the second time.

He’ll find out shortly- you’re already babbling, knowing the routine and half afraid he’ll make you hold it please let me cum please-

“Go on, pet.” He doesn’t so much pry his face away as he just mouths into your flesh, but got the same result either way.

Your back arches as you clamp tight on his fingers- Simon doesn’t let that get in the way of his ministrations, continuing to mouth at your clit and stroke that spot in you until your cries of pleasure turn into okay okay okay oka-

He doesn’t stop. You try crawling away from him but he puts a stop to that by quickly banding his forearm across your abdomen.

You have a safeword- kettle- if it actually was too much, and unless he hears you say it he’s going to keep a hold of you like a dog being threatened with having his favorite toy taken from him.

You’re being fucking loud, no way the neighbors can’t hear you unless they’re simply not home, and Simon doesn’t give a singular shit as he works you from your second orgasm clear into your third.

His efforts are rewarded with another rush of your cum, soaking his face and dripping down his chin.

Good. He’s still fixated on the idea of you being fat with his child, and the way he sees it the more he gets you to cum the better his chances are of it taking.

Your efforts to squirm out of his grip only increase, futile as they are.

“One more,” he lifts his head to offer you. “Be a good girl and give me one more.”

Those tears that had welled earlier are falling now, and Simon thinks you look absolutely divine with tear tracks down your face, make up smeared to hell.

“Okay,” you nod with a shaky breath- hips still trembling but no longer trying to squirm away from him.

He descends on you once again, intending to make the most of your compliance. What a good little wife he has.

He’s got your fourth orgasm rushing over you in record time, relishing in the way you tense and relax as your body tries to fight the overstimulation before your mind would quiet it. His hand strokes your hip and thigh soothingly, mumbling praises into your skin the entire time.

True to his word, he pulls away once you’ve come down.

You’re watching him with glassy eyes, limbs trembling as you finally catch a reprieve from his mouth.

“I’ll untie you now, okay love?” He’s checking where you are mentally, if he pushed too far-

You nod to him, eyes following as he steps away from the bed to grab the keys off the nightstand.

Your wrists are released from the cuffs only to be encircled by Simon’s hands- so much bigger than your own- as he gently rubs them and checks for any marks. “You alright, love?”

The soft smile you flash him has him ready to melt. “I’m good,” he watches you stretch, the slight wince. “Shoulder’s a bit tight.”

“I’ll run us a bath and we’ll see what I can do about that hm? How about you think about what you want for take out?”

He starts to turn, tethered in place as you reach out for him.

“Don’t go yet.”

He lets you lead him back into bed with a light pull on his hand.

Absolutely spoiled rotten, and yet Simon will gladly give or do anything for you if only you ask for it.

[for-a-longlongtime]

Guilty Pleasure (4/7) - dbf!Joel Miller x reader

Somehow you end up in the car with Joel for five hours. With all that heat outside, you just can't be held responsible for what happens next.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 42), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 3.6K A/N: I thought "Hmmm, maybe I should add this one thing" - and not surprisingly, it got very much out of hand. @magpiepills this one is extra dirty for you!

< part 3 | series masterlist | main masterlist

“Wait!” You sprint over to the truck as you hear Joel rev the engine and turn out of the driveway - surely he wouldn’t just drive off over being two minutes late? “Damnit Joel, hold on!”

He stops, giving you an amused look as you’ve almost dropped your purse and tripped over your own two feet. “Told you. 10 a.m. sharp,” he said matter of factly, giving you just enough time to open the passenger door and hop on the bench seat before he takes off again, not even giving you the chance to close the door properly.

“JOEL! The door!”

He sighs, once more stopping the car, and he leans over to turn on the radio and fiddle with the dial - giving you just enough time to close the door and put on your seat belt.

“Such a dick,” you mutter under your breath, and you can tell he hears it but just decides to not respond directly through it. “Are you the time police?”, you ask, now clearly audible as you lean back over the console to toss your purse on the backseat. “Jeez, didn’t know you’d get your panties in a bunch over being just a minute late.”

“Two minutes.” He changes the radio station a few more times until he finds a song he likes, humming along with it as he takes a right turn, headed to the main road. “ ‘s nothing but proper manners to be on time if someone gives you a ride.”

You roll your eyes as you settle in, straightening out your sundress. “Okay, Daddy,” you sigh, glancing to see if maybe that gets a response out of him, but he just keeps his eyes on the road. “Your shirt is inside out, by the way.”

“Agai-...?” He seems exasperated as he looks down at his shirt, which then hardens into a frown as he recognizes you are just messing around with him. “Shut it,” he mutters, but you can’t help but grin in satisfaction. 1 - 1, back to being even now.

“What is that awful music? Nirvana?”, you ask him, determined to not let him have the silence he asks for - and if he’s anything like your dad, you know that he’ll get extra annoyed at you trashing Kurt Cobain.

He gives you a look in disbelief that makes you think that you made the right choice there to poke at him. “Are you kidding me? No, that’s not — this is Local H,” he gives a nod at the radio. “Bound For The Floor.”

“Sounds dirty. Are they also from the eighties?” Just to make matters worse and see how far you can go, you prop your legs up on the dash - only for Joel’s large hand to reach over and sweep them right back off again as he gives you a murderous look.

“1996, you little shit. One more move like that and you can walk all the way to the DMV.”

“How am I supposed to know that? I wasn’t even born back then,” you say with a pout, your skin feeling pleasantly like it’s on fire where he touched you. “You’re being mean.”

“No shit.” He shakes his head, refusing to look back at you, but you’re pretty sure he has an excellent view of your bare legs with the way you’re currently sitting. “You’re being a brat.”

“Mmm. You into that, Joel?

There it is; one of those long suffering sighs you’ve heard repeatedly from him before. He refuses to answer your question though, also not taking any of the other bait you try to throw at him during the ride. When you finally get there, he pulls up at the front of the DMV office.

“I’ll be back in thirty to pick you up. Don’t be late again, okay?” His eyes soften slightly for just a moment before he adds, “Please. Got a lot to do today.”

“What if it takes longer? Maybe you should just give me your number so I can text you if I run late,” you suggest innocently, and you see just the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. Fuck, if only he’d give you his number, you could send him some of the spicy pictures you took last night… 

“Thirty minutes,” he repeats without missing a beat. “I’ll wait for five, else you can get an Uber back home.”

“Fine. Thanks, Joel.” You lean back over the console, trying to grab your purse - which not surprisingly is right out of your reach, just as planned. “Sorry, I need to just… give me a second.” You fully turn around in your seat, leaning all the way over to the back as you can reach your purse now, knowing damn well that this position gives him a clear view of your hot pink lacy panties under your dress. As if you needed further confirmation, the way you hear him practically choke is a dead giveaway that he indeed got an eyeful of you. 

You look over your shoulder at him, seeing that he’s intently staring straight ahead as his hands are gripping the steering wheel tight. It’s impossible to not laugh at the strained expression on his face, and you decide to take advantage of being so close to him. “Dirty old man, don’t think I didn’t notice,” you tease, planting a quick kiss on his cheek as you then hop out of the truck, not waiting to hear a response. “See you in thirty!”

When he picks you up thirty minutes later, you’re ready to greet him with a snarky comment. All of that goes away the moment you get back into the truck and find your senses overwhelmed by the rich, sweet smell of coffee and caramel. Which is more than just a bit confusing, because all you’ve ever seen Joel drink is black coffee.

Joel, seeing your surprised face, nods at the cupholder as he takes a sip of his own coffee. “Hope I got your order right,” he offers, then pushes a slightly greasy Starbucks bag over to you. “Didn’t know what you’d want to eat though. If you want something else…”

You open the bag curiously, then gasp as you pull the flaky treat out of it. “Fuck, croissants are always great,” you blurt out, unable to stop a groan when you taste the ham and cheese filling. “This is so good. Thank you,” you manage after swallowing the first bite. When you lift your coffee cup to your lips, you realize he actually got your signature drink - an oat milk latte with extra caramel syrup. “How do you even know this is my drink?”

He shrugs as he takes a turn to the highway, following the signs towards the Home Depot location on the way back home. “It’s how you always make them at the house, right? Oat milk and that caramel stuff. Kitchen always smells like it,” he says as he tries to shrug it off, but you can tell he seems pleased that he got it right.

It’s not just the coffee that warms your chest as you drink it; you’re genuinely lost in your own thoughts for a while as you’re trying to process not just the kind gesture, but how much attention he must be paying to you in order to notice things like that. Your ex never did, nor did the boys before him. Even though they weren’t inconsiderate per se - it just wasn’t something that would register on their radar, it seems.

Boys. That probably was the problem to begin with. Why waste your time with boys when a gorgeous DILF like Joel was so much more attractive, thoughtful and capable?

Following Joel throughout Home Depot makes you realize that it isn’t just about him being capable - it went beyond that. He was a man on a mission, clearly knew what he wanted to get, and gathered everything with ease, including the heavy lumber. You would have happily lend him a hand, but he immediately shot that down, refusing to let you carry anything heavy 

“ ‘s not a problem, darling. I do this day in and out,” he assures you when he eventually loads everything in the back of his truck; the lumber, hardware, some new blades for saws, and other things of which you’re not even sure what they are.

“I can easily pick up things like that,” you protest mildly as you sip from your coffee, and when he bends over to pick up something from the ground, his shirt rides up his back, exposing his narrow waist. Fuck. How is this man so hot? And how does he not seem to be involved with anyone?

“Never said you can’t,” he agrees easily with you, grunting as he puts the final things in the trunk bed. “Just said you don’t have to. You need to stop anywhere on our way home?”

‘On our way home’ – the intimacy of those words suddenly makes you blush. You can’t help but wonder how exactly that would be, a home with him. You’ve never seen his place, as far as you know. Maybe you should ask him, just come up with a reason for him to take you there, affording you a kind of privacy you wouldn’t have at your parents house.

“No, I’m good,” you say truthfully, and he gives you a nod and a smile as he unlocks the cab of his truck. 

“Alright then. Let’s go.”

Somehow it’s already past 3 pm by the time you get home. Five hours alone with Joel. While it had turned out very different than expected, and you enjoyed it, you were also wound up beyond belief. 

Sitting so close to him in the truck, smelling him, getting to see his little frowns, smirks, pouts and sighs in a different setting than at the house. Not to mention how watching him stride through the store and deal with things had developed a competency kink for you on the spot. It felt like somehow he had dripped over every part of you, saturating you with his presence to the point that you felt both overstimulated and woefully unsatisfied.

“Thanks again for the ride. I had a good time, really.” You smiled as you bit your lip, watching the little lines around his eyes crinkle as he smiled too.

“Not a problem. Just don’t be late next time.” 

Your heart jumped as you tried not to respond to that - next time? So he wanted to spend more time with you later? Today sure turned out to have been a success. 

The house was quiet as you went upstairs, your clothing sticking to your skin, and all you can think about is getting clean and calming down a little as you head into the bathroom. You turn on the shower, letting the water heat up a little as you stare at your reflection in one of the mirrors above the sink. 

Being back in Austin, catching up on sleep, not needing to think much about things like meals or rushing somewhere for classes - it has been nice. A breath of fresh air even, not to mention how much more time you’re spending outdoors these days. You look nothing like the person who cried for several weeks while wrestling through your finals, when the knowledge of your ex cheating on you hung around like some kind of persistent ghost, unwilling to leave even now you finally had acknowledged what happened. You weren’t looking forward to needing to return to that place once the semester started, but at least you still had half of the summer here.

You hear Joel’s footsteps in the kitchen downstairs, and you pause as you wonder if he’s going to come upstairs. He too had been sweaty from the hot weather, especially with loading and unloading the truck, so it was likely that he was due for a shower too. So… maybe you should make the most of it. Especially since you two were the only people at the house.

It’s not like you’re trying to trick Joel, you tell yourself as you strip out of your clothes - your underwear soaking wet as expected from having been so close to him. Things happen. Sometimes people forget to close a door. And if that happens to be the case while you’re about to shower, and Joel just happens to walk by… well. How bad can that be, really?

You unlock the door and fully open it, glancing across the hallway at Joel’s room that’s almost right across the bathroom. Yeap, once he comes upstairs and heads to his room, you should be right in the line of sight.

Your heart is thumping loudly as you leave the bathroom door open and head over to the shower, you try to calm your nerves by assuring yourself it’s fine. Don’t overthink it, just take a shower like you usually do. You wash your hair, putting in conditioner for a few minutes while you use the bubbling strawberry body wash to clean yourself. But as you run your hands over arms, breasts and belly, your mind automatically wanders off to thoughts of Joel again. Not just the time you spent together today, but also so many other moments this past week.

Yesterday he came home late, well past ten pm, reeking of sweat, hard labor and wood shavings. He seemed like he had planned to make a beeline for the shower, but your mom had insisted he’d sit down first and have something to drink and eat a sandwich, before he’d go upstairs to wash and crash into his bed. 

“You men are just the same; if I don’t make you eat, you’ll both starve because you’re so busy,” she had scolded him. So he sat down on a barstool, looking slightly begrudged. That all disappeared the moment there was food in front of him though; he wolfed down everything on the plate like he hadn’t seen food in days. 

You had been reading a book, picking at a bowl of cherries as you tried to not pay too much attention to him. Yet something about him all dirty and worn out after a long day of work had accelerated your pulse. Perhaps most of all it was his scent, still, that got your attention. Not overwhelming, but still clearly present - typically ‘Joel after his work day’, and you had to press your nails into your thighs to not inhale it deeply. 

Right now, just the thought of that - along with having smelled him so close to you in the truck - has you dripping wet, sensitive to the point that you almost jump when you slip a hand between your thighs. The shower isn’t exactly the most comfortable place to get yourself off, but the combination of your thoughts and the warm water proved to be impossible to resist. You pinch your nipple as you try to be not too loud, imagining Joel’s mouth on your breasts, biting you until you whimper for him. He would turn you around, make you face the wall while spreading your legs, and…

You hold your breath when you hear someone move in the hallway, then quickly close your eyes tight as you circle your clit with your fingers, ignoring the nervous feeling bubbling in your chest. “Joel,” a soft whine escapes from you after all, begging him to come into the bathroom, get in the shower with you and take whatever he wants from you. “Please…”

For a moment all you hear is the sound of the shower running, then unexpectedly the door slams shut - not by coincidence, but clearly done so deliberately. Your eyes fly open as you’re hopeful for a second that he’s standing there, stripping for you - but all you see is the closed bathroom door. There is, however, the sound of footsteps moving away from the door, going down the hallway. You curse as your building orgasm disappears almost immediately. Great. Blue balls as well as being rejected. 

You try desperately to coax yourself back to the edge, using your fingers, the strong stream of water from the shower, and even change positions a few times. Even when you press your front against the tile, fucking yourself with two fingers while you imagine Joel pounding into you from behind, you can’t quite get back to the same level of excitement - the moment ruined by the rejection of that door being slammed shut.

Eventually you just give up, finish your shower and wrap yourself up in a big towel to go back to your room. But just as you’re about to open your bedroom door, you hear a low groan that you immediately recognize as being Joel.

“Fuuuckkk. Oh, god, baby… please, yes, please…”

You gasp as you turn around, staring at Joel’s bedroom door that’s firmly closed. ‘Go over to him’, you urge yourself. But as much as you want to, and it arouses you beyond belief to think of him jerking off after having seen you in the shower, the risk of being turned down again is too offputting. His moans are something else though, and your nipples are immediately hard as your pussy starts leaking, greedy for the release you didn’t manage to get in the shower. 

So you slip into your room, turn on some music and shove a pillow between your legs to ride it, thinking about being on top of Joel. How he would stare up at you reverently, hands on your hips as you ride him, and he’d be unable to stop whimpering your name. The way he would gasp, beg for you to let him come - apologize for making you wait so long until he gave in. “I’m sorry, baby.”

You close your eyes as your hips work faster, and you slip your hand between your wet cunt and the cotton of the pillow, shuddering as you push two fingers inside of yourself. “That’s it, pretty girl. Oh, fuck, look at you…”, Joel coos, wrapping his arms around you as his hips buck up against you, again and again. “Squeezing me so goddamn tight. You want me to come inside of you?”

You nod breathlessly, the pleading words spilling from your lips, and he just laughs as he lets his hands slide down to your hips - you’re still riding him, but he’s clearly in control, guiding you just the way you need.

“Filthy girl,” he breathes in your ear, letting one hand slide from your hips to your ass. “You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?” Whimpering, you nod again in agreement, but that only gets you a smack against your ass, so firmly that it takes your breath away. “I asked you a question. Use your words for me,” he demands, fucking up even harder into you. “Tell me what you’d let me do to you.”

“Anything, Joel!” you cry out, burying your face into the pillow as you’re shaking with desire, feeling the tension build up so it could soon release. “Anything. Come inside me, please, give me… I want it, let me feel you…”

“You want me dripping out of you? Filling you up so much that you spill over?”

You cry out as you come hard, the words you imagine him saying to you echoing loudly in your mind, your body easing at the long awaited release, but still it’s not enough. Blindly you reach for the silk bag on your nightstand, pulling out the first thing you get your hands on - a bullet vibrator -, and you turn it on while you keep the fingers of your other hand still buried inside of you.

“So greedy. You're a dirty little thing.” Joel’s laugh fills up your head, taunting you, telling you exactly all the things you want to hear, all the things he would do to you, and soon your body convulses for a second time. By the third time, your hand has gone numb and you feel lightheaded, as if you’re going to pass out. The words echoing in your head are no longer the imagined whispers from Joel, just the moans you heard earlier in the hallway, coming directly from him. “Fuuuckkk. Oh, god, baby… please, yes, please…”

Trembling, you click off the vibrator and wipe yourself clean with a shirt that’s within reach while you desperately try to control your breathing. You’re just gonna take five minutes to recover - that’s all. Just close your eyes for a moment. And next time… next time you hear him moaning, you won't hesitate. You'll just go straight into his room.

Next time.

next: part 5 >

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[newfallstrangeleaves]

Yandere with a unknown identity

Exchanging information

M!Yandere X F!Reader Warning: Dub-con (leaning towards consensual), dry humping but one is naked (?), NSFW. I don't know, just tell me if I need to add anything. Summary: You play along one of his game to get more information as to who your intruder could be. Author's note: If you are wondering who Robert is, I don't know either.

"Well, since he doesn't seem to be any danger to you, perhaps you could talk to him.” Robert says. He had invited you to a walk in the newly opened park. Since your last conversation the two of you had kept in contact. He has been eager to find a solution to your problem at any cost. This time the price seemed a bit high to your liking. 

“That has to be one of your worst ideas yet.” You tell him. 

“I'm just curious and I'm sure you would want to hear what he has to say too right?”

“Not if I'm used as bait!” 

“Just give it a try, as of now we don't have any information to go off. It could give us a lead.” 

“Fine, but you owe me.” You say as the both of you head out of the park. 

“I'll gladly make it up to you!” He says practically bouncing up and down as the two of you part ways. 

Your second encounter with your unknown intruder didn't take long. Two days after your conversation with Robert you had just fallen asleep in front of some show when you woke up to someone sitting down with a sigh at the other end of the couch. 

"Eh, Hello…” You say, uncertain of how to act now when the time has come. 

"Hi, darling." He does his little eye squinting that tells you he is smiling under his mask. 

“I have questions…” You start. 

“Oh, really? Well, ask away, we’ll see if I'll answer.” He leans back putting his gloved hands behind his head. “Go on.” 

You think for a moment. Every question you had seems to have disappeared and your head is blank. 

“What's your name?” 

"Can't tell.”

“Do you live around here?” He only chuckles at your question and frustration grows inside your chest. 

“So, you won't answer any questions?”

“I can, but it's not cheap.” 

“Okay, I ask you a question and then you can ask me one.”

“No, not too interested in that.”

“What do you want then?”

“I dunno, what can you give me?” He smiles again. “I know, let's play a game.” 

“A game? What game?” 

“Lets say, with every question you ask, you take off one piece of clothing and I'll answer any question your heart desires.” The room falls quiet and he eyes you up and down for a reaction. 

You think for a moment, biting your lip. You don't have too much on. Your socks would give you two questions. Your shirt might cover you up if you take off your pants. But that would give you only three questions until you will have to get bold… 

“Okay, but no lying.” You state, he nods frantically eager for what's coming next. You take one of your socks off and he chuckles. 

“You're really taking this seriously are you.” He teases. 

“Shut up, I want you to answer my first question. What's your name?” 

“Well, a name will be expensive. You can call me Bo, But if you want more than I think more will have to come off.” 

“That's not what we agreed on.” 

“Well, I suppose that wasn't specifically stated. I haven't lied to you and I answered your question. What more could you ask?” 

“Fine, let's move on.” 

“Do you want me to answer where I live next?” 

“If it's free, sure.”

“Alright, I'll give you that as compensation for the last question. I live here in town.” You sigh, of course this wasn't going to be easy. 

“Is that all I'm gonna get?” You ask as you cross your arms.  

“If that's your next question then another sock will have to come off.” He says and points to your other foot. 

“No no, It's not! Just let me think for a moment.” You look down fin your lap and try to think about something he can't slither out of. You take off your other sock as you ask. 

“Where did you and I first meet?” 

“I don't know, such things are impossible to tell, we could have run into each other on the streets or at the store…”

“No, you know what I mean. When did you first acknowledge me?” 

"Yeah, fine. It was at this bar, personally one of my favorites. You had gone out with a few friends and I think one of them got in trouble and the police came." 

“No, I remember that. Megan's ex came and started yelling at everyone.”

“Yeah… you looked really pretty that night.” he mumbles and you pretend not to hear him. 

“Okay, then my next question is…” You stand up and start to take off your pants, your shirt is just long enough to cover your lower parts. “...,besides that time you and I met here, you know. Have we ever spoken to each other?” He looks down at his lap, fidgets with his gloves for a moment before he answers. It almost seems like he wants to tell you more. Maybe you can get him to slip up? 

“Well, we did speak that night at the bar. I just checked in on you, making sure you were okay.” He looks back up at you. You nod eagerly. If you only can get him to talk some more. You take a deep breath then you stand back up and take your panties off. They slid down onto the pile on the floor and you sat back down. You make it a point to cover yourself with the shirt, but his eyes still linger, trying to get a glimpse. 

“After that, when was the next time we spoke?” 

“At the Christmas market, I was working that day.” He says, his eyes blown with lust. 

“What do you work with?”

“I can't tell you that.” He shakes his head, eyes scanning you up and down. Knowing you will have him if you can get him to tell you, you start to amp up your antics. You pull your shirt over your head leaving you only with your bra on. He takes a deep breath and shifts in his seat. 

“What do you work with?” You ask again. 

“I told you I can't tell you that.” You unbutton your bra and throw it on the floor. Then you crawl to his side of the sofa and straddle his lap. His breath hitches at your actions. 

“I have paid well enough for an answer to that question.” 

“I'm sorry, darling. No can do.” He simply says and shakes his head. 

“Well, I still have two questions left.” You can feel him growing hard where you sit, but you stay unmoving. 

“Alright, shoot.” 

“Have you been stalking me for long?” 

“No, I'm not stalking you. I was just checking in, making sure that you were okay.”

“Yeah, you never know when someone might break in.” You say sarcastically. 

“I can see the irony in it. But I was never here to harm you, that time was an accident, I didn't mean for you to catch me. But I'm glad that you did.” He says and puts his arms around you, pulling you closer. You feel the friction on your lower half as he moves you. You despise the fact that it's starting to turn you on. 

“Okay, next question. Have we… met these last two days.” 

“Yes.” 

“We have?” You say shocked. “Where?” 

“No more clothes, no more questions.” he simply says. You sigh frustrated. Then you get an idea. And with your dignity already out the window you go for it. You roll your hips against his crotch, once, then twice. He looks at you with hooded eyes as the friction seems to egg him one. As you grind against him he grabs your hips to move quicker. 

“You never fail to surprise me.” He asks breathy. You can feel the friction making yourself wet too as well as his member growing harder. 

“Oh no, for every question one of these has to come off, Preferably this.” You say and tugs at his shirt. 

“Oh fuck.” He pulls you closer and hides his face in the crock of your neck as he grinds his hips in unison with you. He growls in your ear. Feeling the arousal grow inside you decide to put the questions on hold, seeking your own pleasure for the moment. It's when a low moan leaves your lips as a fold in his pants hits your clit just right that he stops. 

“I won't let you cum if you don't tell me something. I know you want to, tell me you'll do what I say and I'll let you cum.” You nod but it's not enough. “Words, let me hear your pretty voice, love.” 

“Yes, I will.” You tell him, trying to grind your hips but his hands hold you in place. 

“Oh, you're so eager.” He says and looks into your eyes. “Tell me you want me.” 

“I want you.” You say, closing your eyes. 

“Use my name, darling.” 

“I want you, Bo ah-” He starts to grind your hips even more forcefully this time. Little gasps leave your lips and it only spurs him on. 

"What do you want me to do, Darling?" 

The combination of his small humps and the grinding back and forth bring you closer and closer to the edge. You focus on the only piece of him that is exposed and his eyes never leave you. Not for a second. It darts between your gaze to your bouncing boobs and back to your expressions. 

All you can read of him is his eyes half closed and his brows furrowed. 

"Tell me what do you want me to do?" He asks you again. You scramble yourself enough to give him a smirk before you lean closer and whisper. 

"I want you inside of me." The way he moans at your statement you'd think he came right there.

"I want you and I want to be inside you too. Just not now, not today. Oh fuck."

Your legs are trembling as you fall over the edge. Your orgasm makes you throw your head back and moan loudly. Bo moves your hips to help you ride it out. 

As you come back down from your high you take a jagged breath and Bo's movements settle. 

"Fun playing with you." He says and he lifts you off him. Like last time he gets up and goes into the kitchen, he stops by your room before he returns. He has a glass of juice and a towel with him. 

"I'd help you, but I'm kind of in a rush, sweetie." He moves a stray hair from your face before he heads out.

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING LECHEROUS !!! GEORGE R. X FEM!READER X TOTO W.

summary: this was the only time when someone lucked out with toto's wife. after the austrian grand prix, maybe george should consider winning more.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), dubcon, pwp, no beta reading, austrian gp 2024 spoilers (ish), threesome (mfm), m!masturbation, cuckolding(ish), oral sex (f receiving), sub!needy!nameless wife (only referred to as 'mrs. wolff), voyeurism, praise kink

note: i have a little hangover but man did that race eat, i just had to write on it. enjoy xx

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mrs. wolff was the most sought-after woman in the paddock despite the ‘wolff’ name being attached to her soul and public image.

everyone knew who she was, having been the mercedes boss’ wife, but it didn’t deter them from ogling whenever she passed by with grace and entrancing presence. 

toto knew that. he knew all too well about the ogling, the staring, the subtle glances. and because of that, he would often shadow his wife whenever she came by.

there was an unspoken rule applied by toto: don’t talk to mrs. wolff unless you’re standing feet away from her, don’t ever touch her, don’t ever dream of being with her.

it wasn’t even that he didn’t trust his wife around other people, no. instead, he didn’t trust other people around his wife. 

george russell was one of those people. as bad as it sounded, george always found himself unintentionally ogling and staring at mrs. wolff whenever she came by in the brackley factory or in the race tracks. who wouldn’t find her beautiful? she had poise and charm that george couldn’t explain. 

hell, george couldn’t blame toto for falling for her grace. or rather, he couldn’t blame his team principal for falling for whatever the fuck she had on. 

but there was something about the austrian air that night that led george to saunter towards the woman. was it his victorious ending at the race? george wasn’t certain. 

but this was a rare occasion; mrs. wolff never joined the celebratory occasions before, and seeing her here with a nice slit dress and ever ravishing smile drove everyone insane. seeing her here while toto was on the other side of the bar, though…

george could get fired for even trying anything with her, he could admit, but ego was something that every f1 driver had and right now the briton couldn’t refuse the inflation of his. he had to try, especially when she was dressed like she wanted to get it off already.

so that’s what george did: chatted with her and talked with alcohol in their hands. there were a lot of things that george learned to say and not say. 

mrs. wolff had the nicest laugh, george could admit, but her lips looking so kissable was just another can of worms that he couldn’t open. especially when toto was somewhere to take the bait and potentially lead his wife to saunter away from the race winner. 

george couldn’t lose her now, so he opted to chat with her instead. behind his blue eyes was something forbidden. lust.

he could understand why people ogled mrs. wolff now — she was a walking aphrodisiac, like her pheromones were through the roof and george could sense all of it. they were enough for his trousers to tighten a little.

fuck, he couldn’t have that now. not when…

not when toto’s hand snaked around his wife’s waist and squeezed her hip. not when the atmosphere inside the bar turned hotter when toto came by. not when toto’s head dipped down to feed onto his and her desire and show everyone whose wife mrs. wolff was. 

george shifted in his seat, not even looking away from toto’s surprising public display of affection. toto was always professional, but then again he was off-track. 

george did the one thing that people rarely got to do: watch toto’s younger wife become needy for the team principal. it was… hot. fuck it really was hot. but he needed more.

and it seemed like toto sensed it too, his hand running through his wife’s hair before grabbing a handful to tilt her head towards george’s direction. 

george could tell she was a putty in toto’s hands, her eyes glazed in neediness and desire. toto smirked at the tension that he felt amongst the three of them, nipping on her earlobe as he asked her, “do you think you can do it, mein liebe?”

“yes,” she bit her lip, her hooded eyes trailing at george. the brit could see a lot of lust in her eyes, as if she wasn’t just laughing at some shitty joke he made five minutes ago. 

she was an entirely different person, and toto turned her on with a snap of his fingers. seeing her so aroused because of toto made george want her more and the team principal could see it.

toto chuckled softly, nipping her craned neck before telling george, “we’re heading up.”

george could only nod, frozen in his position. what did that even mean?

it seemed as though george’s confusion was all over his face because toto seemed to answer his unspoken question with, “do you want to come along? i know you want to fuck my wife like most people.” 

what?

toto smirked, “c’mon, george. lewis would’ve jumped at the chance if he could.”

george wasn’t any better either. this was something that most people wouldn’t ever expect from toto wolff. the man was possessive and wouldn’t let anyone touch his wife. 

god must have been playing favourites. but george couldn’t care less. he had the austrian grand prix win and now he got the win that most people would’ve wanted: a night spent with her. 

so that was how george found himself stomach flat against the mattress, the woman’s legs spread out while the brit’s tongue lapped at her drenched pussy. her knicker was pulled aside, reverberations in her cunt making her body squirm and her mouth water. 

she sought for her husband’s cock, but toto was busy watching them from the armchair he set by the bed. each time she pleaded for toto, all toto said were ‘patience’ or ‘behave yourself.’ 

george’s being left to pleasure her on his own while toto watched was something that made the brit’s cock twitch in his trousers. 

“god, you taste so fucking good,” george murmured between his tongue lapping. she uttered out a moan, making george grind his hips against the mattress for friction. 

“toto, please,” she mewled quietly, looking at her sitting husband while toto stroked his thick cock. “lemme taste-“

“i want to hear you whine and moan, schatzi,” toto crooned, pressing a kiss on her forehead, “i want george to hear you moan for him.” 

“mmfh-“ she whimpered, her mouth eager to taste her husband. but she couldn’t say much when she felt herself nearing the edge with george’s mouth and fingers. “fuck- george. you- oh fuck george- fuck!” 

“yeah, cum on my fingers, darling,” george tutted softly, lapping on her and sucking on her clit while his fingers curled up against her sensitive spot. “give it to me-“

“fuck- yes! oh, fuck,” her body arched and her hips grinned against george’s face, and the british man could’ve cum right there. 

george’s cock was agonizingly straining inside his trousers, precum leaking when his lips and chin glistened while she rode out her orgasm and coated his mouth and fingers. 

“oh, you sweet little thing,” george cooed at her as he moved up to capture her lips with his. his fingers never left her, only sliding out of her cunt when he unzipped his trousers. 

“taste so good, doesn’t she?” toto smirked and chuckled darkly, his eyes darkening at the sight of his wife being ravished by his driver. 

“abso-fucking-lutely,” george laughed too, finally taking off his trousers and taking the foil packet that toto tossed his way.

“she loves that,” toto hummed, his eyes never leaving his lust-ridden wife as he licked his lips. but he didn’t dare touch her, enjoying the sight of her. “my wife- ever the sweetest thing who loves getting off with my mouth and my fingers… how about you let her cum in your cock this time, hm?” 

“on all fours, doll,” george murmured, helping her into the position as he moved behind. “facing your husband, sweets.” 

she was gone. she was certainly gone when she looked at her husband, watching toto stroke the one thing that she wanted in her mouth. heat was rising in her cheeks, her body warming up to 40 degrees as george hooked her arms behind her and slid his cock in slowly. 

both her and george let out guttural moans, george’s face turning red in enjoyment as his pace turned moderate. 

she looked at toto with half-lidded eyes, biting her lip at the sight of him stroking his cock. it was all too damn good. 

“you look so fucked out, liebling,” toto said lowly. she seemed out of it, only nodding to his words. “you’re so gone, aren’t you? so fucked out?”

“yeah… yes,” she stammered hazily, “so good, toto.”

“yeah?” 

“yes,” she cried out when george angled to hit her spot repeatedly. “fuck- toto, he’s so good-“

“good girl,” george crooned from behind her, “good fucking girl with a tight cunt- god, you’re so fucking good.” 

“fuck her, george,” toto instructed with a smirk, prompting george to smirk too and follow as he was told. “look at that face of hers- she could cum right now and she could cum again and again.”

“oh fuck- yes,” she whined softly, her face scrunching in pleasure as her mouth gaped open. she was overwhelmed with pleasure, unable to keep track of who was talking. “you’re- oh god, george!” 

“you’re gonna be the death of me, schatzi,” toto commented, his stroking hand matching george’s thrusting pace. toto groaned out, “fuck her hard. she loves that, george.”

george wasn’t able to contest toto’s command, not when he was there only once. this was a rare occasion, and if it meant that he had to follow her husband’s words then fuck it. 

george might as well do the things that people were unable to do with mrs. wolff. if people only knew— he was a lucky bastard to even be able to see her like this while she lusted over toto and him. 

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[viperdove-if]

They will sing songs of our legacy, weave tales of the blood we spilled and the hearts we stole. We have carved our names in history, my dove, using the lives of the guilty. And once you are appointed, you too will be marked in legend.

DEMO TBA | CHARACTER POSTS

Genre: dark, crime, romance, gangs

Setting: fictional world of Hera, ancient times

You are the Dove, the heir to one of the most powerful crime families in your country. The grip your family--your father--has on their side of the land is tight, and now that you've reached adulthood it's time for you to be fully absorbed into the machinations of gang warfare. That means opium, mercenaries, assassinations. In this ancient world, blood moves people just as much as money does.

But your family is not the only family with a steel-like grip on Hera. The Dimas family have been your rivals for centuries, a blood feud fueling the anger on both sides. You both fight for territories, for money, terrorize innocent civilians and throw them in a fight they never asked to be part of. Eventually it must end...and eventually it will come down to you and the Viper, the rival heir.

But when murders and kidnappings crop up on both sides of families, the blood feud grows larger. Because there is an even bigger threat coming, and a blood war may be the only way to get out of it.

Viper & Dove is a dark romantic interactive fiction that follows two crime families in a blood feud taking place in ancient times. It is rated 18+ for violence, explicit themes, possible sexual content, and gore.

Customize your heir from name, appearance, gender identity, pronouns, demeanor and more. Customize their approach to their position and how they feel about their family and their responsibilities.

Choose a weapon of choice like a sword, throwing knives, and more.

Choose what kind of heir you want to be, and how far you're willing to go to protect your title from your endless siblings...who are various shades of bloodthirsty.

Indulge in romances that go from a doomed Romeo & Juliet narrative to a bully arranged-marriage romance to a bodyguard romance.

more features to come.

Talon/Thea 'The Viper' Dimas (m/f) : the eldest and heir to your rival family, neither of you can live while the other one breathes. Everyone is waiting with baited breath for the day you two come face to face for a fight to the death to finally bring an end to a century long rivalry...in blood. The day seems to be inching closer, and you wonder if you're prepared.

You are forbidden to see them. Forbidden to speak to them. Romancing them grants a punishment in blood.

Romance: enemies to lovers, forbidden lovers, heirs to rival families, Romeo & Juliet-esque

Alastair (m): your father's advisor, his second-hand man. He is serious, distant, and treats you with neutrality, mostly because of who you are. He oversees everything your father does and your father trusts him with his life. Romancing you would mean certain death for him.

Romance: forbidden romance

Shadow (real name unknown) (m/f): the family's head assassin and lapdog for your father, indebted to him like a prisoner. They have killed many, and their deaths pile up in a way that keeps them quiet and isolated. They do not speak, least of all to you, and you rarely see them underneath their assassins garb.

Romance: forbidden romance

Kalis Dimas (f): the twin of your rival. Even though she is a Dimas, you feel she has no interest in the blood feud. She is too kind, too pure. If anyone were to find you speaking to her--especially her very protective twin--the results could be detrimental to you both.

Romance: forbidden romance

Oren/Odessa (m/f): your betrothed. They are mean, rude, and a bully, and yet you are expected to wed them. After all these years of them bullying you, tormenting you, how could it possibly change?

Romance: bully romance, arranged marriage

Kai/ Kara: (m/f): your childhood best friend. Your guard. The one meant to protect you. They were once an orphan, then found and employed by your father to keep you safe. They take their duty seriously, lest they get thrown out again.

Romance: bodyguard romance, forbidden

Raven/Rome: (m/f) your personal maid/butler, hailing from the servant family that has served yours for generations. They don't look you in the eye and don't dare speak. Some might find their overt politeness endearing.

This is my first interactive-fiction story and I hope you like it. Reblogs are always appreciated, thank you! :)

[pxrxcxa]

Untouchable

✶ One shot

Pairing | Eddie x his best friends little sister

Post summary | You’ve been in love with Eddie since you can remember. When he refuses to see you as anything except for his best friends, untouchable, innocent, little sister, you work out a way to get him to look at you differently.

What to expect | Established friendship, mutual pining, jealous Eddie, lots of tension - no use of y/n

Post Warnings | Drug use, shotgunning, M oral, F masturbation, voyeurism, facial, public sex, rough sex

Word count | 5.3 K

Authors Note | I’d really like to do a part 2 | but let me know what y’all think about this one first ;)

Pt 2 | Pt 3 |

As always, any & all comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Love, P. x 🌿

I’d always seen Eddie. Considering he’d been joined at the hip with Trevor since middle school when he’d made fun of Eddie’s buzz cut. The two were inseparable, always up to no good. If you seen one you knew the other wasn’t far. Since Trevor and I shared DNA, Eddie was around just as much as I was, taking up a segment of our life and blending in seamlessly like he belonged there.

Ten years I’d catch the bus home with Eddie and my older brother, avoiding their teasing while they spread across the entire lounge room floor as they devoured the pantry of snacks and planned out their DnD campaigns. Ten years I’d been the butt of their cruel jokes. Ten years I’d been silently in love with Eddie.

And for ten years, Eddie had ignored me like I was invisible. Eddie had never seen me.

I glanced up from my book as a piece of popcorn bounced off my chest and landed on the open page, covering the rest of the line I was currently reading.

“Do you mind?” I snapped through gritted teeth, brushing my shirt as I glared up through my lashes.

“Not at all. Get us another drink.” My brother rolled over on his back as he grinned at me, holding a crumpled piece of paper above his face that contained a list of his new ideas for DnD characters.

Eddie’s singular laugh burst onto the scene, and I reluctantly glanced up at him, dropping my stare almost instantly as a deep blush filled my cheeks. He smirked at me as he popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth, watching me as I slammed the book shut and stood up from the couch.

“Get it your damn self.” I snapped, purposely treading on my brothers arm as I stepped over him.

Eddie’s stare, hard to ignore, followed me as I made my way to the kitchen. The water churned angrily inside of the glass as I flicked the sink tap on angrily and filled it to the brim. As I spun around the drink almost slipped through my fingers, Eddie was leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed tightly across his chest as his dark eyes appraised me.

“You good kid?” My heart sunk into my ass at his words.

Kid

“I’m fine.” My misplaced frustration seeped through my tone, Eddie’s brows raised slightly at my rudeness before Trevor burst through through door, shoving him out of the way and breaking our eye contact.

“Ignore her man, she’s been in a mood ever since she started dating that freshman.” My fingers tightened around the slippery glass as my eyes shot to Eddie’s face, my own colouring in embarrassment as his features turned guarded, hiding his reaction as he picked at his cuticles.

I snatched the bag of chips off the counter that my brother reached for, glaring daggers at him, interrupting Eddie as we spoke at the same time.

“Oh yeah?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

I cleared my throat as they both shared a look followed by loud, teasing bouts of laughter.

“He’s not, he’s just my partner on one of our assignments. And-“ I spoke louder as Trevor wagged his brows suggestively at me and Eddie covered his smirk with his hand.

“He’s actually pretty cool, I think you’d like him, he’s into DnD.” I let my bait hang in the air as I dumped the rest of the contents of my glass down the sink, letting it clack against the sides loudly.

I turned back slowly to watch Trevor let a low, appreciative whistle through his teeth, his mind ticking over my words as I watched Eddie closely. He was far too focused on a hangnail as his jaw clenched, sucking against his teeth.

“What d’ya think bro?” Trevor’s voice was pathetically whiny, pining for Eddie’s approval without shame.

Although his slightly annoyed face betrayed his words, Eddie shrugged, dropping his arms to cross his chest as he stared me down, running his gaze slowly over me as I shuddered, chancing a quick glance at my brother to see if he noticed.

“If she says the kids alright, we can give him a go. She has incredible taste after all.”

Eddie’s lips drew out the S in the third last word, making my thighs twitch behind my loose mini skirt as he smirked at my brother, who was blissfully unaware of my dangerous thoughts as he sneakily snatched the bag of snacks from my trembling fingers.

“If he’s anything like her, he’s super fucking innocent. And I know how you love to corrupt your innocent freshman with DnD.” My brothers half hearted wink didn’t even begin to convey the truth behind his words, their possible different meaning to Eddie had my head swimming dangerously, the sea of blackness lapping at my concentration.

“I don’t agree on a lot of things with you bro, but when it comes to that type of innocence… I can’t resist absolute corruption.” Eddie’s dark eyes fixated on me as his wide smile crinkled his eyes. I was greatful for the loud crunching as Trevor tipped the bag of food back against his mouth, tilting his head back as he shook the bag, because I was sure that actual steam was blowing out of my ears and a slight dripping was falling from between my thighs.

“Come on, let’s head out.” Trevor’s spat through an open mouth full of food as he tossed the packet into the bin and walked between us, cutting off my eyeline of Eddie as he smacked his chest and swiped up his car keys. I swallowed my disgust over my brothers general lack of hygiene as he disappeared around the corner, rolling my eyes as I turned my back on both of their vulgar insults over who was driving.

The warning tingle that shot up my spine, made me spin back around as I bumped back against the sink, watching Eddie lean away from the door frame to cross the tiled kitchen floor between us in three long strides.

His eyes flickered to the darkened hallway like he was making sure that my brother was still out of sight as he stood toe to toe with me, our embarrassing height difference towered over me as his face broke into a cocky half grin.

My breathing faltered as his hand raised towards me, gently brushing against my thin sweater in the space between my breast and my collar bone. My heart squeezed painfully as his grin faded off into a small, knowing smile as I began to tremble.

“Popcorn.” His scoff contained a light airy laugh as he glanced above my head and brushed away the few crumbs that clung the static fabric of my shirt.

My chest throbbed in a painful release as Eddie stalked away, shrugging on his leather jacket as my knees struggled to keep me upright.

Asshole

I ran my tongue across my lips as I tried to keep my thoughts in check, squishing down the vain fantasy of hope that reared it’s ugly head, focusing on the ticking hands of the clock above the kitchen cabinets.

Eddie’s small touches meant nothing, his lingering stares only felt heavy and intrusive because I was imagining it. Eddie was only ever going to be an elderly brother figure to me and I needed to learn to accept that. Giving myself a reality check to save myself from further heart break.

I swallowed the rock that sat at the back of my throat as my vision came into focus again.

“Hey! Where are you going? Moms gonna be here with dinner soon.” I chased after the boys as they hesitated at the front door, staring back at me with frustration as I hindered their nightly pursuits.

“The hideout.” Trevor shook his head at me like I was stupid for even asking, widening his eyes sarcastically as he pulled the door wider.

Eddie stared at me with a blank expression, either trying very hard to control his reaction or just genuinely not having one as he rolled a loose ring across the tops of his knuckles.

“Ed’s here has a blonde hottie waiting for him.” My brother smacked his chest with his fist lightly, following up his hurtful statement with a string of obscene noises and hip movements.

I tried and failed to keep my face straight as my heart smashed into my stomach, twisting and splintering like broken glass as Eddie didn’t spare me another glance, following Trevor down the scarcely lit driveway.

His car tore off into the empty street as they sped away to whatever pleasures awaited them at the dingy bar, leaving me alone and heartbroken as I let the front door swing closed slowly.

“I think it’s a good idea.” I let the stream of smoke billow through my nose as I flicked the ash away from the tip of my joint, leaning back against the red brick of the gym, hidden by other nosy students and prying teachers alike.

Sean, the infamous genius freshman that was taking senior classes, liked playing DnD and was my alleged boyfriend, watched me from his place beside me, his beady eyes following my every movement as he tried to mimic my stance.

I held out the joint in an offering, raising my eye brows as he hesitated and then shook his head, glancing up at me from the few inch height difference between us.

“I’ve got a test, probably be better if I was sober.” His dorky face screwed up and I turned away to hide my laughter, watching the sophomore gym class run their tenth, hellish lap around the field.

I nodded without looking as he muttered a goodbye, taking a deep drag as my eyes squinted shut. The air rushed through my teeth as a heavy ‘umph’ resounded through the air as his sharp cry echoed around us.

Sean was scrawled across the concrete, fresh tears springing to his eyes from the raw scrape marks across his palms and knees. Eddie stepped from around the corner and roughly hauled him to his feet, practically beating him into the ground as he wiped grey clouds of dirt from his shoulders.

“Better be more careful there kid.” Eddie clicked his teeth as my arm dropped, nerves fluttering in my stomach as I hid the joint against my side.

It was no use, the smell had probably drawn him out in the first place.

My eyes flickered between the vastly different boys, Eddie’s dark and hulking form, with a mean smirk plastered across his face, towered over Seans’ quivering one. A shock ran through me as I watched the unmistakable signs of fear flash across the younger man’s face, he nodded and tried not to let Eddie’s strength make his knees buckle as he continued to swipe at Sean’s arms, angrily brushing away dirt that was no longer there.

He shot me a frightened look as I couldn’t help the slight amusement spread across my face, my inhibitions locked away from the spike of weed I’d inhaled, I successfully bit back my laugh as I realised he was afraid of Eddie. Sometimes it was hard to remember what the rest of the world saw him as, because Eddie had my knees shaking and my face blushing for entirely different reasons.

Sensing no help from me, Sean tried to side step around Eddie as his eyes fell to his Hellfire shirt under his leather jacket, trembling like a mouse as Eddie blocked him.

“Not so fast, kid. Who are you?” Eddie’s menacing smile slowly dropped from his face as he cocked his head, loosing patience as Sean stuttered over his own name.

I scoffed and pushed off from the wall, turning to face him with my own smug smirk as I shook my head at Eddie’s antics.

“This is the one I told you and Trevor about. This is Sean.” His eyes squeezed shut like he was upset about me naming him, like he’d hoped he could remain unnoticed as long as he stayed silent.

Eddie had ignored me thus far, but his dark stare slid past Sean’s to meet mine over his head, something flashing in his eyes as they softened and his jaw hardened.

“Right.” He stood to the side and clapped his shoulder, making him half bow over as his face screwed up in pain. “Well, maybe I’ll see you at our club sometime, I’ll take good care of ya.” Eddie winked and slapped him on the back again, half propelling him down the footpath and almost out of my sight.

The brittle tension disappeared along with Sean as Eddie turned back to me, pulling a cigarette from his jacket pocket, placing it between his teeth as he flicked his lighter and shook his head at me over the billowing smoke.

I grinned freely as I purposely took a long hit of my dwindling joint, staring back at him boldly as I blew the cloud of haze in his direction.

We puffed in a silence for a moment before I took too deep of a hit and coughed hard, my chest spluttering as my eyes watered.

He clicked tongue as he pursed his lips, barking a sharp snap of laughter as I waved the smoke away that burst through my lungs.

“Exactly why you shouldn’t smoke.” He grinned through his hypocrisy.

“Oh please, don’t act like you’re not the one who taught me this.” I held it out between us accusingly, relishing in the easy smiles shared between us. My heart clenched unexpectedly as I wished for it to always be this easy, that our friendship didn’t have to be blackened by my unrequited feelings, obsession was probably a better word.

His own face turned serious as we both lost our grins, exhaling through his teeth as a deep sigh rushed from his chest. His eyes, practically black in the shadows, had me cowering against the wall as he glared at me.

“You should stay away from him.” His words were a fire hot, ice pick through my skin as I tried to read their meaning in his face. He kept his usual half snarky half empty mask in place, I took a distracted drag for something to do other than get lost in my thoughts of looking at him.

“Sean? He’s harmless.” I peered back at Eddie questioningly, blushing as he scoffed and sent me a derivative scowl.

“He’s a guy.”

“And?”

“And I know what guys want.” He flicked the butt of his smoke away as he spun around to face me, burying his hands in his pockets as he waited for me to catch onto his meaning.

I wasn’t sure what made me say it, or how I possibly got the words out without caving like the embarrassed coward I was.

“What do you want?”

Eddie’s face flashed with something new, he only hesitated for a minute as his eyes dropped to something beside me and he stalked across the space between us. I backed off quickly, bumping against the rough brick as he pinned me against it.

I trembled as Eddie hand snaked around my throat, his thumb pressing into my jaw so that my head was tilted back and I couldn’t avoid his dark eyes that trapped mine. I couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past my lips, Eddie’s eyes dropped to them, intrigued by the sound. My throat stuck as my thoughts ran wild, wanting to cry from the confusion and pleasure of feeling Eddie’s hand finally somehow wrapped around me.

My hands clenched around empty air as Eddie stole the joint from between my fingers, he brought it between us, turning his head to the side, but keeping his eyes on mine as he took a deep inhale. The paper burned all the way down to the roach in a blaze, ash dropping dangerously as he flicked it away and tensed his fingers around the nape of my neck.

His strong hand bowed me against him as his thumb moved up against my chin, pulling it down roughly as he forced my lips apart.

I shook like a leaf as Eddie moved his face towards mine, with slow movements like a predator. He angled his jaw to line up with me, leaving barely any space between our open mouths as he blew the smoke into mine. My eyes rolled back into my head as I caved, I could practically taste him, almost feel the softness of his lips as my knees buckled, Eddie’s tight grip became the only thing holding me up. His forehead leant forward to touch mine as he breathed the last swirl of the smoke into me, snapping his eyes shut as his jaw flexed.

“You’re Trevor’s sister.” It was a fact he grunted through clenched teeth.

“I am.” My hands traced up carefully to hold onto the arm he still had wrapped around my neck.

“Untouchable.” I didn’t agree.

“So fucking innocent.” Eddie’s practically spat the words as his eyes wrenched open in anger and he dropped his hold on me, slamming his fist down against the raw brick beside me as he spurned away, the outline of the Dio patch on his jacket growing smaller as he left me alone gasping against the side of the building.

Tears sprung to my eyes over his insult of being innocent, wanting to follow him and prove in every single way how wrong he was, hating him for even thinking it. But I was paralysed, sliding down the wall into a crouch, wondering what the fuck that was and if it actually just happened.

Stupid

That’s what this was, pure idiocy. I fumed with anger towards Eddie’s juvenile opinion of me, and hated Trevor even more for probably being the reason behind it.

I wanted to punish them both, get back at them in a way that would at least match, if not top, the anguish and hurt I was feeling.

Trashing their beloved Hellfire room was the best thing I could think off, though that might have been taking things too far and definitely wasn’t going to help my immature image. My false confidence spurred on by misplaced frustration, faltered as I stood beside the wooden table top in the drama room, tracing my fingers along the edge as I made my way to the throne at the end of it.

I clasped the backing of it, pretending that it was his shoulders I was holding as I pictured myself standing by his side while he was in his element. Imagining how good I would look perched on his lap while he mounted his throne. He could shotgun me again, have his way with me and do whatever he wanted to me on this table.

I twisted my fingers in anger, wishing to high heaven that Eddie could see me for what I actually was, torturing myself as I fantasised about Trevor being okay with the idea of the two of us, and that he wouldn’t stand in our way.

I snorted mockingly at myself as I let my hand drop, shaking my head because all of that didn’t matter unless Eddie liked me back, and he definitely didn’t.

Whatever happened between us this afternoon didn’t wipe away the past ten years of him treating me like an extension of Trevor, just an extra sibling to pick on when he wasn’t rising to Eddie’s teasing.

I pulled my bag tighter against my shoulders as I headed for the door, but I froze as loud bangs and shouts of boyish laughter echoed down the hallway.

Shit.

They were early, and even though I’d left the room exactly as I’d found it, Trevor would dip it if he found me in here. ‘Ruining his safe space and invading his territory’ as he’d called it.

I backed off, my head swinging wildly as I glanced around for some form of escape. It was too late, their heavy footsteps thundered towards the door as I dived under the table, my skirt brushing my sneakers as I huddled on my knees to the middle off it, praying that I was hidden.  

My stomach shrunk as my name fell from my brothers lips, shaking as I waited for him to expose my position and embarrass me in front of their entire club. But it was followed by a laugh and the sound of flesh smacking flesh. A familiar pair of glasses tumbled to the floor and I had to bite back a whimper as Sean’s arm shot down to grab them, mere feet from where I was crouched.

“Yeah she’s my sister, she told us about you and I figured we needed some new players.” I could practically hear his chest puffing out as he tried to impress that he was important. Six chairs scraped against the floor as they pulled back and the knees of Eddie’s club scooted in closer to me, pressing in on all sides as I stopped breathing.

Laughter filled the small room and the the table top shivered as someone slammed their hands down on it, sending specks of dirt and dust to flutter onto my hair. Sweat built up between my thighs pressed against my calves as the panic set in, the boys were reaching into their bags, pulling out game equipment as they set up for one of their campaigns.

I was going to be here for hours.

The main door swung open again, and I watched the beaten, once white, Reebok sneakers make their way towards the end of the table where I sat. The largest chair that Eddie deemed as his “throne”, scraped back louder than the others as he folded himself into it. My face blazed hot as he man spread, widening his knees until his crotch, level with my face, was agonisingly obvious like it had its own beacon.

I wanted to slap myself for the perverted thoughts that filled my mind, that made my panties dampen between my thighs and my arms shake.

Fucking Jesus

Eddie rolled his hips towards me as he readjusted himself, his ring clad hand resting lighting on his knee as his finger traced slight circles along the fabric. My brother voice shot out on my left, reminding me where I was as I learned away from someone’s outstretched leg.

“Where were you?”

“Just seshing.” If I hadn’t of known him so well, I would have missed the slight grin in his tone, like he knew a secret the rest of them didn’t. My eyes travelled over his shaking knee as his hand flexed, wondering if he was talking about me. I’d come straight here after he’d left me outside of the gym, surely he had aswell?

“Anyone hot?” Gross

“Smoking. But not your type.” Eddie’s hand splayed against his thigh, running up the length of it as my middle clenched at the sight and his words sent my mind blank.

“Looks like everyone’s loved up Eds. Even little Sean here has a thing for my sister.” I wanted to punch Trevor, maybe kick him hard under the table under the pretence of someone else, except then someone might look under the table and I couldn’t imagine a worse situation to be caught in.

Eddie’s knuckles turned white as his hand clenched into a first, he voice was loaded with so much threat I was surprised that Sean didn’t run from the room.

“We already discussed this.” He tsked, his shirt riding up his stomach a little as he leant forward over the table.

“She’s too innocent to have a boyfriend.” His voice was low and thick, and the loud bout of laughter it earned from the table made my dig my nails into my palm, hating him more than ever in that moment.

Trevors laughed lasted the longest, brushing off Eddie’s threat as over bearing brotherly love as he pulled out the set up for their game and began.

Enough was enough.

Time to show Eddie how innocent I actually was.

As the entire table erupted in a vicarious debate over their campaign, and Eddie’s voice rang out louder than any of them, I crawled across the floor, leaning forward on my hands and shuffling on my knees as I avoided the mass of sneakers and made my way between Eddie’s legs.

He was still hunched over, blocking the light from shining down on me as I flattened myself on my thighs, my middle pressing against the cold floor as I straddled nothing.

I waited for another loud stream of laughter and raucous banging on the table to press my hands against Eddie’s knees.

He jolted and shot back in his chair from my touch, his little breath of Fuck was drowned out by someone yelling out over being attacked in the game.

His eyes met mine in disbelief as his brows knotted and he gave his head a little shake, I traced my nails across his jeans, moving up his thighs as he ran his tongue across his lips, his dark eyes becoming heavily lidded as they glanced around the table.

A burning within me trickled out across my skin as I explored more of Eddie, running my hands across his lap as I watched his bulge start to strain against his tight jeans, dancing under the hem of his shirt until my fingers brushed his cool belt buckle.

“Eddie!” His eyes tore away from mine as I pulled at his belt, pulling it through the metal clasp, marvelling that he wasn’t stopping me. He was powerless under my touch now, I was going to make him pay for what he’d said, and if he snitched on me now he would be as incriminated as I was. I grinned as I slipped the leather free of his pants.

“Huh? Oh, you’re faced with a fork in the trail, to your left is a darkened path, scarcely lit with a green glow at the end. To your right lays a steep climb with a golden slight blazing at the top. Which do you choose?”

Eddie’s hands shot down to slap mine out of the way, quickly ripping his zipper down to allow me faster access, his free hand moved to twist into my hair as he glanced down with a smirk on his face, gently guiding me towards his crotch as his club cried out in misery that they’d chosen the wrong path.

His tight hold against my head sent a thrill of warm honey down my spine, tingling deep in my pussy as I leant forward, running my tongue along my lips with a smile as I pulled him free from his jeans.

His pretty cock fell over the dark fabric, filling the space between us as I reached for it eagerly. Finally, after years of obsession and fantasies, I finally had thick length red and hard in my hand, twitching as it waited for me. My mouth salivated at the thought as Eddie’s hand pushed harder against the back of my head, begging for me.

It was all the prompting I needed as I leant forward on my knees, my round eyes staring up at his jaw line though my thick lashes, his flaring stare met mine as he chanced a quick look down, his cheeks reddening as he watched me wrap my hand around his base.

He shuddered a little beneath my touch, a drop of liquid trickled from the tip of his dick, and I caught it with my finger to bring to my lips curiously, I let it drop onto the tip of my tongue, the salty taste surprising me. I smirked and looked up to find Eddies eyes trained on my face, watching me warily. A sudden urge came over me, I leant further on my knees, needing to touch more of him, my head brushed hard against the underneath of tabletop, cringing as someone banged on it again. Eddie leant forward to hide me from view as I pressed soft kisses to his v-line, next to his dick, nibbling lightly at the skin as he gasped and jolted in my grip. Looking up at him I let the wetness from my mouth dribble onto his crotch, the liquid flowing down my arm as I stroked him back and forth, never leaving his gaze I slowly brought my lips to his tip. Listening to his uneven breath I let it slide back and forth across my bottom lip before I slid his entire length down my throat.

Eddie’s first clenched above the table as he raised his voice, trying to down out the stifled gags and wet squelches his cock was fucking into my throat.

“I- uh… you’re all down to fourteen hit points, what do you do?” His voice was thick with resistance as I wrapped my lips around his base and slowly dragged up, digging my nails into his knees.

His stare sent a blazing heat through me, the half fucked out look on his face as he glanced down like he couldn’t believe it, it filled me with the surety that I could do this. Splaying my free hand across his abdomen, trailing my sharp fingers across his skin softly, I began stroking him at a constant pace, quickly wrapping my lips around his dick once more and matching the strokes, gagging every once in a while when there was a yell or laugh loud enough to cover it. I shoved my head down until I reached the base where a light brown tuft of pubic hair tickled my forehead, with each bob of my head I swirled my tongue around him, feeling the ridges of the pulsing veins of his cock. His hands knotted themselves in my hair, sending throbs of pleasure throughout my frame, a pooling wetness gathering in my panties. My free hand moved under my skirt, slipping under my thin lacy material to rub fast and rough circles over my clit, picturing it was Eddie’s ring clad fingers as I stared up at his neck, his head thrown back as I listened to the dice roll across the table top and the entire group break into winning cheers. We both took advantage over the thundering, deafening cheers of success as Eddie fucked my face and my own fingers spurned my towards my hot release, as I felt him falter and curl over the table again, I pulled him free from my mouth, replacing it with my hand as I jerked him in long, hard strokes and hung my head back, my tongue pressing against my chin as I waited.

His muted gasps and moans were overpowered by the others congratulations at each other for their defeat, he untangled his hand from my hair as he wrapped his long fingers around my throat, tilting my head back as I took the tip of him into my warm mouth, his salty cum washed over my tongue as more than I thought was possible, shot across my face, streaks of it painted my cheeks and warmed my skin as it dropped across my chin.

Heat flowed between us as his chest heaved and he wiped the corner of my mouth, pressing his thumb into it until my eyes rolled back and the taste of him was dripping down the back of my throat, he brought his hand to his face and sucked on his thumb infront of everyone above us, licking the mixture of his cum and my spit clean from it as he watched me under the table.

“You know what Sean, if you want to date Trevor’s sister, be our guest. Maybe she isn’t as innocent as I thought.”

 Eddie glanced down at me through heavy lashes as his face flushed in a fucked out expression, staring at me like he was finally seeing me for the very first time. 

Part Two

Also readers - if anyone’s looking for a slow burn Eddie x enemies to lovers, check out my Opposite Ends series (almost completed)

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[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 5

Previous Chapter, Masterlist

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. And if you end up murdering your English Professor for forcing you to be paired up with him, WHO COULD BLAME YOU???

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Mention of SA/SH, BDSM (sex dream), M/M/F sex dream, Felix is a pig, Reader claws Oliver's face, Michael loves Reader so much y'all, Farleigh is on Team Michael, Oliver is delusional and awful, alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic.

Author's Note: Finals are a BITCH, but I'm finally done...except I have to do my summer classes soon. But I really wanted to put this chapter out since it's been a while. Thank you all who've been reading this fic and sharing wonderful comments! They really help push me to become a better writer!

Michael’s head was about to explode in the next thirty seconds if fucking Farleigh Start didn’t stop digging his paws through his closet and drawers. No amount of clinking and clacking from tapping on his keyboard would be enough to dull out his shirts shuffled in his chest and hangers shrill screeching against the metal bar in his wardrobe.

“Dear God,” the Yankee, stick-figured giant groaned. “How many math pun shirts do you have? Don’t you have any normal ones? Oh my god, are all the pants you own khakis or Oxfam jeans? Do you seriously not own a single pair of corduroy slacks?”

He slammed his laptop shut. God-fucking-dammit, he was going to kill this asshole if he didn’t shut the fuck up.

“Maybe,” Michael gritted out, “if you just focused on the presentation we’re supposed to be working on, it’ll not bother you.”

Farleigh Start clicked his tongue. “Now, now – it’s not nice to be so testy. Most would consider themselves very lucky that I’m providing my services for free.”

The blonde-blind nerd balked when the word ‘services’ entered his ears. Immediately his mind thought of all the rumors that latched to Felix Catton’s mysterious American cousin – who apparently sucked off every teacher in England. Not that he was homophobic or anything – kiss, fuck, marry whoever you wanted, but he wasn’t interested in that sort of thing.

“Services – are you trying to suck my cock so I’ll do your work for you?!”

“…First off, ew,” Farleigh began. “Second, if I left you to do my side of the work, I’m about…86% confident that you’ll end up tanking my grade.” He strolled to Michael’s closet, pulled out a blue gingham-checkered shirt, and grimaced. “Thirdly, I am referring to how I am going to turn–” he nodded towards Michael in disgust “–this, into an actual suitor for our dear (Y/N). Or are you two still doing this little dance of being nauseatingly following each other around like sad puppies and giving each other bedroom eyes without actually fucking?”

Don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait, don’t take the–

Michael slammed his laptop shut and tiredly rubbed his eyes. With a loud and audible groan that he dragged out, he rubbed his eyelids until he could see the kaleidoscope of stars and squiggles in the dark.

Fucking damn it.

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you?” he damn-near shouted. “It’s not like that between us!”

Farleigh quirked a brow. “The bedroom eyes or the not-actually-fucking? Because if it’s the former…yes, it is, but if it’s the second,” he brought his hands together in a slow clap, “then well done, Gavey!”

Michael shot up from where he was sitting and ripped the shirt in Start’s hands before throwing it back in his silky oak wardrobe and slamming it shut. Was it so necessary for him to be so fucking insufferable? Was he born this intolerable, or did his fucking cousin, Felix fucking Catton, infect him because being a coked-up narcissist was contagious via proximity or blood?

He heard a few clicks behind him, and the scent of Marlboro Gold cigarettes filled his room.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Michael turned around and stared at his completely useless study partner for this stupid project for his Classics course that he needs to fulfill his fucking “General Education” requirements. Farleigh Start was leaning against his dresser and staring at him with the most judgingly empty gaze ever worn – all while holding a cigarette between his two fingers and getting ash on the floor.

Great – like it wasn’t a bloody fire hazard to cover his carpeted dorm in hot ash.

He shrugged. “What’re you on about?”

Farleigh took a long drag on his lung cancer joystick before exhaling deeply. His disappointed look made Michael’s eyes twitch in irritation.

“About a certain mutual friend we share and adore,” he drawled. “Whom just so happens to be in my dear cousin’s room right now…at night…on a weekend…alone.” He paused to take in Michael’s reaction and smiled. “Ohhhhh, so you do care.”

Michael shook his head. “Nothing’s gonna happen between ‘em. (Y/N)’s too smart for that.”

“Yes, you see – I know that…and you know that. But my cousin?” Farleigh scrunched up his face and made a wish-washy motion with his hand. “Ehhhhh…he’s more the type to think a giant, glaring red-neon sign with blinking lights saying ‘STOP’ is another giant, glaring purple-neon sign with blinking lights saying ‘Come Hither’ in porno studio 69 font.”

Michael Gavey rolled his eyes and reopened his laptop. “Whatever, I’m not worried.”

“You’re telling me that it doesn’t bother you that our friend is currently in the lion’s den with Oxford’s king?”

“Of course it bothers me,” thought Michael, “but I trust her more than I trust you.”

But Michael wasn’t going to let his forced-upon acquaintance know his thoughts, so all he said was…

“She’s not in the fuckin’ lion’s den, alright? They’re in the Bodleian. I’m going to pick her up from there in like thirty minutes.”

Farleigh cocked his head to the side. “Don’t trust our girl to make smart choices?”

“I trust (Y/N) just fine,” Michael bitterly retorted. “It’s your fucking cousin I don’t trust.”

Because he does – he trusts you so much. He knows how sweet and kind you were to everybody you thought deserved the benefit of the doubt. ‘Deserved’ being the very fine keyword in the detailing because there was no fucking way in hell you were dumb enough to think Sir Felix Catton of fucking ‘SalTbURn MaNor’ deserved your kindness.

Mary, Jesus, and Joseph – he wanted to strangle the old kook when he announced the assigned pairs.

It was Classics English taught by Professor Radcliff Michael Charles Douglas. He droned on about what materials would be on the end-of-term examinations. Everyone in the classroom, save for you and a few others, was either passing notes by throwing them across the room or staring aimlessly at the air with red-rimmed eyes.

“Ya’ ready, partn’r?”

You pursed your lips as a groan fought to escape. You would regret introducing John Sturge’s 1960 American Western masterpiece, “The Magnificent Seven,” to Michael Gavey if he kept up with that god-awful Texas accent.

You turned to your left and shot a blank glare at Michael. “Listen, Billy the Kid, we don’t know if we’re going to be assigned together,” you said.

“Come on, Professor Douglas always pairs the people sitting together as partners so far in the entire term. If it’s not broke, why fix it?”

“Melanie Brown…paired with Bryce Landon…Kemi Brown…paired with Amelia Sanders…”

You leaned on your elbow to whisper in Michael’s ear to drown out your professor’s blasé voice.

“Can we do our project on Hercules?”

He leaned back. “Why him?”

“I want to present on the glorification of toxic masculinity in mythology, and he’s the prime example.”

Michael chuckled. “You just want to piss off old Douglas up there.”

“Katie Caldwell…paired with Oliver Quick…”

“Is that so wrong?” you asked with a smirk. “You can either be one jump scare away from seeing Jesus or a product of institutionalized glorification of misogyny – but you cannot be both.”

Michael stifled a laugh. “You realize that takes away pretty much half of the English, Math, Science, and every fucking department on campus, right?”

You innocently tilt your head to the side. “Does it?”

“You’re terrible,” Michael snickered. “Completely evil.”

“Oh, please,” you swatted his arm. “You love me anyway.”

“Michael Gavey…paired with Farleigh Start…”

You and Michael turned to the front with disbelief. Wait…if Michael was paired with Farleigh…then that meant…oh, no.

“(Y/N) (L/N)…paired with Felix Catton. That will be all – no changes.”

Michael watched with wide eyes as your head slowly turned to the back of the lecture hall. He watched your face pale in disgust and horror when your eyes stopped at Felix Catton. Michael’s blue eyes narrowed at the lecherous grin Felix shot to you before he puckered his lips to blow a little kiss with a wink.

Your body involuntarily shuddered at the predatory implications. Michael watched as his best friend buried her face in her hands. He heard her say the exact same thought he was having.

These are going to be the worst few weeks of my life.

To say it bothered Michael that Felix Catton was making the moves on you, so to lure you to his sex dungeon of a dorm was an understatement. It was killing him to know that you were essentially forced into a vulnerable position, but when he brought it up to your professor, the old cunt-rag didn’t give two flying fucks.

“Professor Douglas, please,” Michael pleaded. “I really think it’d be in everyone’s best interest if you could make this exception this one time. I promise it has less to do with me and more for (Y/N)’s sake–”

But the ancient windbag wasn’t interested. “Whatever accusations you and Miss (L/N) intend to throw at Mister Catton, I am uninterested. Honestly, Mister Gavey, I expected this kind of nonsensical drivel from your friend, but to see you being caught in her schemes disappoints me greatly.”

Michael bit his tongue to choke down the tongue lashing he wanted to give. He wanted to tell this wrinkled ballsack about how the ‘fine Mister Catton’ basically assaulted you. He wanted to scream how worried he was when he didn’t see you for the rest of the day. He wanted to shout how when he knocked on your dorm and entered, he froze and paled at the sight of you crying your eyes out until they were red and puffy. He wanted to roar out the fury he felt when you revealed to him the incident with Felix Catton that morning in the empty lecture hall. The very same one where Professor Douglas taught.

*TRIGGER WARNING: THE FOLLOWING SCENE FEATURES PAST SEXUAL HARASSMENT AND A DISCUSSION OF THE TOPIC, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THAT, PLEASE SKIP OVER*

“I couldn’t do anything,” you whimpered. “I felt like…like such an idiot! I just froze and stared and did nothing!' You started to cry all over again, and Michael wiped your tears with his thumb before holding you close to his chest. “Hey, hey, hey – it’s okay. Freezing and doing nothing are two different things. You were stunned by what happened, and your body reacted the same way – anyone who tells you differently is a liar.” You shook your head. “I couldn’t even speak…it was like my body – it ju-just shut off on its own. My brain kept screaming, ‘Let go,’ ‘Get off,’ or ‘Stay away from me!’ But I…the words and my voice just failed me when I needed them the most.” Michael blurted out the first thought: “(Y/N), you need to report this.” Your eyes shot open in fear. “Michael, no–” “Look, I know you’re scared, but this is assault. He touched your inner thigh, and you clearly didn’t consent – that’s sexual assault, or at the very least sexual harassment! If you report it, at least the campus police know about this and keep an eye out for you.” But you weren’t listening. “Nononononono—Mikey... that’s not how it’ll go down. Even if I report it, they won’t believe me.” “You don’t know that!” “But I do!” you cried. You shot up and started pacing across the room. “I do know because I’ve seen it happen! Almost every girl I knew growing up—it happened to them! At school, on the trains, some at their own homes! Whether they knew every detail of their assaulter or just saw just a patch of skin – it didn’t matter!” You weeped. “And if I tell the cops, they’ll just throw away the report because they’ll think that ‘all he did’ was touch my thigh. Consensual or not, I’ll be labeled as some fucking crazy man-hater who’s grasping at straws to ruin a fine young man’s life and reputation.” You collapsed back on your bed. “I just…I can’t deal that kind of shit right now. Not with…” you took a deep breath, “Not with everything that’s happening right now.” “…What can I do to help?” Michael hated how his voice cracked. He hated how completely useless he felt at that moment. More than anything, he wanted to march to the campus police and report it. But he knew that by doing so…he took even more control away from you by going behind your back. And then he would be a no better monster than Felix Catton. The idea of him going beyond the point of no return made him clench his fists until his knuckles turned white. But when you touched his hand, all the tension flowed out of him like a creek. “You already did the best thing anyone could do for me right now,” you reassured him. “You listened to me. You cared enough to look for me when you felt something was off. You reached out to me and stayed and listened. And most of all…you believed me.” Michael felt his throat go dry. You looked at him with so much trust, as if he were the safest place in your world. He wanted you to look at him that way forever. “I’ll believe you,” he swore. “I’ll be there for you – no matter what. I promise. Whenever you need me, I will be there.” No words can describe the relief you felt from hearing Michael’s promise. When you entered Oxford's campus, you never expected to meet someone as endlessly loyal and trustworthy as him. You were prepared to keep your head low and remain friendless for the next four years. You were ready to spend the next 1460 days crying your heart out from homesickness and imposter syndrome. But somehow, near the beginning of your first term here, you met Michael. And you were so grateful for him. You leaned in and lightly kissed his cheek. “I know. I know you will.” And you believed that with all your heart.

*TRIGGER SCENE END*

Michael promised you – gave his word – that he wouldn’t say anything to anyone. But, fuck, this asshole was making it hard to keep that promise.

“Mister Catton is a fine young man…”

No, he’s not.

“…one whom I have full faith will end up as remarkable as his father and grandfather before him.”

They probably pulled that same shit, too.

“A man with a future as bright as his does not need some upstart with delusions of grandeur to dismantle an institution as fine as Oxford blatantly spewing out trash about him.”

It’s not trash.

“Unless it was something with proof and worth my time?”

Michael looked at his Classics professor with empty but enraged eyes. “…No, professor. It’s just a personal matter between me and Felix – (Y/N) has nothing to do with it. She’s just…protective, I guess.”

This surprised the sagging skin suit. “Hmm, well, that sense of loyalty from such a strange girl is surprising, to say the least – especially when you take account of her…troubling background as an American from that horrible city. But perhaps there is a chance of decency in her, after all.”

Michael’s right eye twitched slightly. “And what do you mean by her…background?”

“Oh, come now, Mister Gavey. She’s a New Yorker. That city is full of…of…gang-bangers and drug addicts.”

“Her dad’s a professor at NYU, and her mum works for the buildings that host Broadway shows.”

Douglas scoffed. “HA! New York University – what a joke. A campus that’s filled with hippies and no class. And Broadway? Of course, Miss (L/N) is connected to the theatre community. Now, if that’s all, Mister Gavey, I have an important meeting to get to with the chairman of my department. I trust that this matter is settled?”

No, not even close.

But all Michael could do was clench his fist over his backpack’s strap. He forced an unconvincing smile and tersely nodded.

“Yep, won’t get any more problems.”

When old man Douglas replied with his patronizing smile, Michael wanted nothing more than to knock out the rest of the tenured professor’s teeth with a fire hydrant.

So…no, Michael Gavey was not at all okay with the fact that you were with Felix Catton. He was not OK with the idea that you were within ten feet of that depraved vampire.

All he could do was be reassured you were in a very safe and very public space with lots and lots of people who could serve as potential testimonial eyewitnesses if Catton tried anything.

…Provided that Catton Sr. wouldn’t be able to pay off everyone, their third cousin, and their dog.

You wanted to die. You wanted to literally sink into the ground. You wanted there to be a sinkhole to open under you, swallow you whole, close up, and you would never see the light of day again.

…Actually, you wanted all those things to happen to your useless fuck of a project partner.

“Y’know, if you’re bored here, there’s a party going on at one of my mates’ flats not far from here.”

Felix moved to the seat right next to you and limply swung his arm over your chair. “So why don’t we–”

You shot up and moved one seat over. “Considering how we’ve been working on the research for almost two hours, and you haven’t gotten any work done,” you bit out. “Getting wasted and losing more brain cells isn’t the right call.”

Taking your open hostility as a challenge, Felix continued to move closer to you. “Exactly! We’ve been at this for two hours, and nothing got done!” His face was inches from yours, and you could smell the rank stench of craft beers and rancid cigarettes on his breath. “So, what’s the harm in having a bit of fun?”

Oh my – this is getting fucking ridiculous.

You started to pack your bags and gather all the borrowed books. “Parties aren’t my idea of ‘fun.’ And I already told my friend to meet me–”

“So bring him too! The more the merrier!”

You took a deep breath and mentally counted to ten. “Our presentation is due in a week, Felix. One week to hand the paper in and present our topic to the class.” 

You swung your backpack over your shoulder. “I take my coursework very seriously, and to say it’s frustrating to have a partner who doesn’t take it as seriously as me would be a supreme understatement.”

“I think from now on–” a swift *RIP* echoed between them as you took a page out of your college-bound notebook. You quickly jotted down instructions for topics so simplified a child could figure it out, “– it’d be best if we work separately.”

Felix shot up from his seat with a panicked look. “Wait, now hold on – let’s not get hasty.”

“I already have a basic outline for the paper - I’ll type up the paper,” you continued while not looking at him. “All you have to do is find the books I’ve so nicely labeled on that sheet of paper I’ve given you.”

“Wha-what happens after I find them?” Felix stammered; his heart broke from how his time with you was so cruelly cut short.

But your tone and body language remained as rigid as it was apathetic. “You have my email, you have a laptop – figure it out, genius. We’ll meet up at a specified time and place; you hand me the books, and we move on with our very separate lives.”

You walked out of the crowded library and toward the nearby bench where you and Michael agreed to meet when he picked you up. You barely had time to sit down before you were bombarded with the presence of a much worse pest stuck to your shoe.

“You get off on bein’ a downright bitch?”

God, was every asshole trying to piss you off tonight?

You turned around with a prominent scowl that further deepened as your eyes took in the insufferable bastard who was clearly trying to pick a fight with you. You don’t know why you bothered to look for confirmation. You immediately knew who it was just by the sheer arrogance oozing from his tone.

As an artist, you had a special relationship with the color blue. In the summer, there was a point in the early mornings when it felt like the world was bathed in it. There was even a period when you were downright obsessed with it. You loved anything and everything blue: the sky, the ocean, hydrangeas, the Obrina Olivewing butterfly – but eyes, you loved painting blue eyes.

You thought of them as these warm, magical rarities that belonged to the stuff of fairies and Disney princesses. Of course, you also knew the popularity of the usage of blue with winter and death, but you never felt that duality…until now.

Because as much of a slimy bastard Oliver Quick was, you had to hand it to the guy…he was one of two people with some of the bluest eyes you’d ever seen.

Which gave you all the more reason to hate him. He made blue eyes look so cold.

 You clenched your backpack strap. “I’m not in the mood, Quick.”

Oliver scoffed. “I’d disagree – you’re always in a mood.”

“So stop talking to me,” you snarled, turning around. “And go away, Michael’s meeting me here soon.” You started to walk away when you heard Oliver speak again.

“I’m surprised he hadn’t dropped you left,” he maliciously quipped. “With you and Felix and all that.”

Your nails dug deeper into your backpack strap. “There is nothing between me and Felix – nothing at all.”

“Yeah, for now,” Oliver shook his head. “But you’ll be crawling to him with your hands and knees on the ground, worshippin’ him like he’s Hercules or Apollo.”

He leaned in closer from behind you. “And you’ll compare Gavey to Felix and look back and wonder ‘how the hell could I have missed being with Felix Catton over some pathetic’–”

Stop it. *clench*

“–unimportant–”

Shut. Up. *dig*

“– know-it-all –”

I hate you. I hate you. *pierce*

“– nobody.”

You turned around and dug your nails into his face as you poured every bit of rage and disdain for the single most insignificant person you’ve ever met in each word that came out of your mouth.

“Enough,” you roughly whispered. It was taking everything inside you to stop lashing out even further. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

“What? Plan to –” Oliver winced as you cinched onto his skin.

“Of all the mind-bogglingly,” *clench* “douche-like” *dig* “and despicable” *pierce* “crap you’ve spewed out,” you rasped. “Implying that I would ever choose as dull as Felix Catton over someone as rare and wonderful as Mikey has got to be one of the worst.”

“Do not push me any further, Quick,” You felt him tremble as you slowly released him from your grasp. “I’ve tolerated too much from you and the object of your obsession for far too long as is.”

You stepped back and gave the boy before you a good, hard stare. You never felt rage so deep, so demanding.

It was exhausting.

But you heard your name being called out from your left as you turned your head to see Michael waving to you with his arm high in the air. Had it been anyone else calling out your name, you wouldn’t have felt so quickly eased. You were about to move ahead to meet him halfway in the distance before Oliver’s voice stopped you.

“…What could possibly make him so special?” Oliver pathetically whimpered. “Why would you ever choose him when someone as bright as Felix is begging for you? Do you know what being with him means for you? What it gives you?”

…Was that it? Was that his best shot to get under your skin?

Looking at Michael, you answered him without meaning to.

“There’s no point in explaining it to you,” you calmly stated. “And I think you’ve wasted enough of my time.”

You picked up your stuff and left him alone with his thoughts. As you walked away to join your friend, you could feel his icy sapphire eyes digging into your back. Michael could feel how tense you were and asked if there was anything he could help with – but you waved away his concerns, stating that you had already wasted too much of your time with Felix and Oliver and didn’t want to waste anymore. Slipping your arm over his, you snuggled closer to his side and let the familiar scent of old math textbooks and coffee comfort you.

Oliver would make you pay for what you did – you’d be naïve to assume otherwise. He won’t do it directly, but it will happen. He’s the type to drink poison and expect you to die…only to learn too late that it worked as you lay on the ground bleeding and screaming your throat raw for help.

But right now, you were with your best friend; you two were going back to his dorm for a best friend sleepover, and it’d be enough.

…Yeah, it’ll be enough.

Oliver needed to make a plan – and fast.

Getting into your good graces was no longer a viable option for him; you made it annoyingly clear of that by the way you attempted to maul his face off. He gingerly touched the claw marks you imprinted on his cheeks as you tried to dig for his blood and bone with your nails. A corner of his mouth went up as he remembered your viciousness. He could practically taste the blood that nearly trickled down his cheek after you pierced his skin.

He hadn’t expected such a blatant display of violence from you, of all people, let alone on the campus’ hallowed grounds so near an establishment as ancient and crowded as the Bodleian.

For you, sweet, innocent (Y/N), to show such open hostility…to know he urged that beautiful, dormant impulsiveness to emerge…it thrilled him like nothing else. At that moment, he so clearly saw it. A darkness that was hidden deep inside you – bursting open from your carefully stitched seams. A deep desire for more in the dull, dull life God cruelly set upon you. Why else would a sweet, little all-American girl such as yourself travel all across the Atlantic to one of the most prestigious universities?

No, you were like him – exactly like him. Your reaction to his goading only proved that to him.

You weren’t used to it – that much was obvious…but that meant little to him. If nothing else, Oliver was resourceful. He’d learn more and more about what makes you tick before plucking you piece by piece into what he needed you to be for him. He’ll watch you explode before making you fizzle.

The idea of you at your fiercest – only for him to break it down bit by bit until all that was left was a more…subdued version of the hardheaded American girl from the Big Apple who loved to aggravate him during her first-year days at Oxford.

The thought alone made him salivate.

He could only dream how you’d be in bed. Your tight, hot little body would be squirming and writhing from the pleasure he and Felix bestow upon you. You, helplessly lying on your back while being fucked dumb by the two of them.

God, he felt himself getting hard at just the image alone – to make it a reality…that sort of victory, along with having Felix, would be nothing short of heaven for him. He unbuttoned his jeans as he took out his hardening cock into his hand. Not wanting to bother himself by starting slow, he immediately stroked himself with a rough and unforgiving pace. He wanted the pleasure from the fantasy to overwhelm him.

You looked perfect—replete, ethereal, and effervescent. Your entire body twitched as your eyes were blown wide, and drool dribbled down your chin. You put up quite the fight; the scratch marks on his and Felix’s chests proved that. But seeing you on your back on red silk sheets with your wrists and ankles tied to the bed posts made the struggle worth it. The red and pink bite marks that begin from the column of your slender neck down to your plush and tender inner thighs made for a prettier picture you could ever paint. “Oliver,” you pitifully rasped. “P-please, m’sorry – AH!” Your body jolted, and your back arched as he slapped your swollen clit. He struck his hand down one, two, three more times and watched as you thrashed and cried before another peak was forcefully ripped within you and came gushing out. God, how many times was it at that point? Three, four? It must have been quite a high number, judging by how tightly your cunt clenched onto his fingers when he thrust them inside you. “Look at her,” Felix cooed from behind Oliver. The Saltburn heir’s hulking frame towered over his lover as they watched their pet beg for mercy. “You almost feel sorry for her.” His hot breath panted into his ear as Oliver shivered in delight. The Quick boy gasped when he felt Felix’s large digits begin to enter his tight, puckering hole. “Take your fingers out,” he ordered. “And stick your cock inside her. You’ve been so good to me that I’ll let you fuck her sloppy cunt while I finger-fuck your arse.” Oh god, yes. Oliver took out his fingers and immediately positioned his hard cock at your leaking pussy as he spread your legs apart and forced your knees to press against your chest. “Wait,” you slowly blinked. “Wha…what’re you do–” Your back arched as Oliver pushed into you before thrusting into your cunt at a brutal pace. Tears were streaming down your reddened, flushed face as ecstasy-laden sobs filled the room. “Good boy, Olly,” Felix praised as he continued to push his fingers inside Oliver while the nails of his other hand dug into his hips. He let out a ragged gasp from how Felix deliciously stretched him out. He started out slow before moving his fingers at a faster and steadier pace. “That’s it, Olly. You’re so good – so good to me.” God, the contrast between the firm grips and harsh thrusts with gentle whispers of sweet nothings was like nothing he had ever experienced. And it only made the pleasure of Oliver plowing into your weeping pussy while you cried like a bitch in heat feel too good to be true. “Oh, you’re getting so tight,” Felix groaned. “You wanna come, don’t you? You wanna spill your cum into our pet’s little cumdump hole, right?” “Yes,” Oliver rashly answered before snarling to you. “You hear that, you dumb slut? I’m going to cum in you, and you’re going to take it.” “N…not i-inside,” you begged despite your walls clenching tighter around his cock. “P-please not inside!” Oliver just laughed. “You want it – oh, yes, you do.” He released one of your legs to grip your jaw and forced you to stare at him. “Don’t bother denying it. Your body knows how a whore like you is just desperate for me.” He chuckled as he thrusts into you even harder than before. “Well?” “Yes!” you cried out. “Yes, Oliver! Let me be your cumdump! I want your cum so badly!” Before Oliver and Felix permitted you to do so, you spilled onto Oliver’s cock, and the tightening of your walls, mixed with how deep Felix pushed his fingers inside him, made Oliver’s mind go blank – and soon, all he could hear was white noise.

Oliver slumped into his chair as a coat of sweat covered his entire body. Thick, white ropes of cum were still spurting out of his softening cock despite it coating his right hand. He ran his left hand through his dark curls as reality settled back in. Cold, bitter loneliness engulfed his body as he realized that you and Felix were not with him, and he remained as alone as before. A newfound determination to make his fantasy a reality soon took place.

His vision will be a reality. Felix will love him. And you will be their pet whose sole purpose in life is to take load after load of their pleasure.

But such things were too early to think about with how you were now. No…no, no, no…you were far too raw in your current state…too volatile…too stubborn…too American. He supposes it shouldn’t be too surprising that you latch onto fitfulness and inconsistency.

You were an artist, after all, and such was the fate of your kind to be destined to forever claw their way from the bottom as a means of survival.

But, however charming your unpredictability may have been in your concrete-paved, urban paradise that you call ‘home’ – that simply won’t do for him. He was more than confident that he could make you see things his way, but there were…problems needed to be resolved.

Namely, one in particular that came in ill-fitting apparel and bulky-framed eyewear – Michael Gavey.

Only an utterly blind idiot would miss how you pathetically secure your entire emotional well-being onto him. Oliver watched in total desolation and disappointment at how your glorious rage dissipated at the sight of him. But a part of him was equally as impressed at the mask you so expertly paraded, going so far as forcing your body language to adapt to the circumstances.

But…it wasn’t a mask, was it?

You looked at Michael Gavey the way he looked at Felix – complete and total worship. Michael Gavey, for whatever reason, was your sun, moon, and stars. The way you protected and so ardently adored him made the conclusion all the easier to reach.

Suddenly, it all became clear.

Of course…how did he not see it? The answer was so obvious. What better way to force you to his and Felix’s side…than to separate and condition you?

Isolation was a cruel and sadistic thing to thrust upon anyone – let alone who had so few friends in a foreign country like yourself. But he knew how much of an effective tool it could serve for him. Oh, it would be arduous initially – yes, it will. But it would all be worth it in the end. After all, in a way, this was your fault. If only you had complied with him when he was being nice, he wouldn’t have had to resort to such drastic but necessary measures.

Oliver darkly chuckled to himself.

Yes…everything would turn out in his favor. He’d make sure of it.

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindno, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes, @paradisepoisons, @pansexualpamandabear, @erikasurfer, @lissamans, @cookielovesbook-akie, @thesmutconnoisseur, @izzyisstuff, @lariisouz, @ma1dita, @jeondeluxe111, @itszzmoon, @wolfeginny, @mioshasworld, @bre99

Let me know in the comments your thoughts and if you want to be tagged when I update!

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go pray to my ancestors and beg for their forgiveness for writing Oliver's POV 🥲

[wildbluesorbit]

London || JTK

18+MDNI

Paring: asshole!Jakexreader(f)

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE! I can’t even tell y’all how nervous I am; this is my first fic AND the first smut I’ve ever written. I’m a Third Eye Blind freak and just generally think this song is one of the sexiest songs in existence so naturally I knew I wanted to write this fic. Big big love and thank you’s for my editor @tommie-gvf. I loved writing this so much and didn’t think it could get any better until I saw everyone’s reactions.❤️‍🩹

I ask for your patience as I’m a beginner and am very open to criticism. Pretty please tell me what you think!

Summary || Jake has a lover that lives in London. He visits her every time he’s in town, but recently the simmering situationship has taken a toxic turn.

Content Warnings || swearing, alcohol consumption, party setting, toxic relationship, jealousy, over possession, verbal aggression, slight physical aggression, big angst, graphic sexual depictions

Kink Content || dom(m) and sub(f) shift, [semi] public sex, dirty talk; praise & [public] degradation, sadism, zelophilia, katoptronophilia, daddy kink, slight impact play, nipple play, dry humping, hand job, ejaculation(f), oral sex(f receiving), penetrational sex

Word Count || 8.3k+

*disclaimer - I have no idea how to write any European, reader’s origin is up for interpretation*

You continue to refresh your phone screen in hopes that it will load a new message or maybe even reveal a glitch.

“You know,” your best friend, Claire, aspires to tempt you back to reality, “that guy hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since we got here, right?”

A hum in acknowledgment of her bait is the only thing your split attention will allow as you proceed in refreshing your messages. Even going as far to restart your phone.

“He's kind of cute,” you return another hum as she sings further, “like really cute.”

“Go on then, have a go,” you try to push her self-assigned matchmaking duties back on her.

You have no choice but to be shoved back into the rumbustious surroundings of the overpopulated flat party as your phone is suddenly ripped from your hands. Claire raises it above her head not even bothering to investigate what might be holding you hostage. She is well aware of your antics.

“Please don’t tell me you're texting him again,” she lifts the device higher as you futilely lunge for it.

“He said he was coming,” you begin to gather a defense, “but I haven’t gotten a response since I sent the address… maybe hold my phone a bit higher?”

Claire lets out a monstrous groan of frustration and rolls her eyes, “You really are helpless!”

“I know,” you repine and give her your best pleading puppy dog eyes and hold two starving hands out in front of you.

Begrudgingly she gives in, slamming your phone against your awaiting palms. As soon as your phone is back in your possession you return to refreshing your messages, all in vain of course.

Whenever Jake was in London he always visited you, sometimes even flying you out to whatever part of Europe his show was in or just because he wanted to see you. A trail of one night stands that became ritual.

The nights always started out modest, the two of you innocently traipsing about parties and bars accompanied by his brothers. You would all share drinks and stories for hours, belly laughing until you were ceased by sore ribs, as if you had all been friends for decades.

Nevertheless without fail, as the drinks poured further so did Jake’s appetite for you. He'd always shadow you with some kind of seemingly harmless touch; a hand on the small of your back progressed into squeezing your knee and then thigh, to tugging you into him by the waist when he was made uncomfortable or wanted to share a secret amongst chaotic surroundings.

One by one, his brothers would slowly fade out; Sam first, then Danny, and Josh was always the last to let the party die, taking it with him when he went. From that point, the evenings between you and Jake would morph into a primitive and sensual burn. Teasing and tearing at each other until the two of you eventually spent the rest of your night curled around the other. Once again, darting back to your guarded bubble of shy soft intimacy; neither of you willing to accept it was different from anything else anyone made you feel. Time spent together was something the both of you always rushed through days for, memories neatly placed in a treasure chest of beloved keepsakes when it was over.

But lately, it was different. Something brittle and bitter had blossomed. Jake had gotten only bigger and busier. Sometimes, he’d pule about missing you so naturally you’d beg to see him. He’d send beautiful trinkets and fine clothing from whatever part of the world he was in that next week to ineffectively make up for his absence no token would ever emulate.

Though you are elated for him, you are also acutely aware of your need to move on in order to outrun the pining tidal wave that threatens to swallow you whole. You’d tried before, but no man was Jake. And seeing you with other men only spelled him into a envious fit. A sight that tormented you both, the other too afraid to cry out as nothing was ever set in stone.

So instead you’d go to war over some irrelative thing and he’d ultimately swear on his beloved he didn’t give a shit about you and when or if he’d see you again; only to gift you some pretty peace offering in amends to offset the vigorous cycle once again.

Like a vinyl record against the needle, the two of you are going round and round the same circle; different songs, same sonic. You know if the pattern continues, you are slowly headed towards the dead wax. You hope tonight will mend the broken pieces between you as he vowed he’d come to spoil you a few weeks ago.

“You need to cut him off,” Claire has stated her stance on the situationship brazenly before, “all he does is treat you like shit. He entertains you from a distance and keeps you waiting until he wants to get his dick wet.”

Having been through this debate with her many times, you only frown and exhale, “It's not like that and you know it.”

She mirrors your disapproval, “Isn’t it?”

Just as you are forming your rebuttal your phone buzzes in your hands; confiscating your ability to exist anywhere other than your screen. It might as well have looked like you were going to dial 9-9-9 the way you dementedly scramble to open your phone.

JAKE:

Hey, angel. Sorry, I got stuck at this dive with my brothers and now they don’t want to leave. I think we’re just going to spend the rest of the night here. Maybe I’ll catch you next time?

You had not been enjoying your time at this party. You had been ignoring your best friend. You had been ignoring cute flirty strangers. You had been exuberantly anticipating Jake’s company tonight for months. All to be left on read, pathetically pining for hours now; all so you could be stood up by the man.

Your chest bursts with flames of mortified resentment, fueled by his impudence. Irate does not even scratch the surface of how your heart pounds. Your blood is scalding, skin scorching.

Jake made you feel stupid yet again.

Your face must give you away before you can even get out a word of impertinence as you look up from the insolent text to see Claire smugly sipping her drink.

A knowing smirk spreads viral across her face, “He's not coming, is he?”

The last thing you want to do is tell her bitch ass she is right in your state of red. Instead, you offer her a question you know will sate her pride without feeding on your wounds.

A vengeful grin takes hold of you “Cute stranger checking me out, you mentioned?”

You have never seen her look so pleased with herself as she nods in the direction of a man at the end of the bar whose gaze you hold.

There is no way you are going to let this night go to waste. Not after Jake made such a desperate-looking fool out of you.

You decide if he is going to ignore you it's going to be his loss, not yours. You are not going to let him waste your time and you are definitely not going to let him take your fun.

You throw your most alluring eyes and innocent smile at the stranger and wave him over. He returns the greeting and calls some indiscernible phrases out to the bartender before receiving three drinks and walking over to your table.

He is tall, dark, and handsome. The complete opposite of Jake. A promise of great distraction.

He sets the three drinks down at your table pushing two glasses of what he claims to be screwdrivers towards Claire and yourself. He then proceeds to introduce himself as Hunter through an almost seemingly painful giant smile.

You can’t help but compare it to your favorite pretty and childlike grin Jake always wore, a sight you ache for.

You cordially engage in small talk with him, asking and answering the procedural “Where are you from?”, “What do you do?”, and “What do you like to do?”; fitting in the occasional desirous glances and seemingly innocent yet lingering touches when appropriate.

He is definitely funny, but not witty and satirical like Jake’s humor; undeniably intelligent, but not in the philosophical and existential sense like Jake.

You mentally berate yourself for still thinking about a guy who is obviously not thinking about you when Hunter clutches your hand, ripping you from your dissociation.

He points towards the middle of the flat where you see multiple people frolicking about, “Do you want to dance?”

Why the hell not? You throw back the rest of your drink and smirk wide in response. This seems to oddly appease Hunter but you think nothing of it as you feel yourself being towed to the make-shift dance floor.

At first, the movements are modest, just an adventurous activity between acquaintances. But after a few songs, you feel the alcohol rid you of your inhibitions, most likely against your better judgment, but at this moment you can’t seem to wrap your fingers around any care if you tried.

You grind and tangle yourself up with this man you hardly know. He seems into it and you are blissfully swept away from your afflictions, a win-win. So what is the harm?

As soon as the thought has come and gone, you feel it; an overwhelming perilous sensation of being surveilled. You turn your attention over to where you had left Claire at your table to see her deeply engaged in conversation with Josh.

Fuck. Where there is a Josh there is most certainly a Jake.

You whirl towards the flat’s bar to lock eyes with the source of the sinister stare; an infuriated Jake leaning against the countertop, arms crossed. He holds your gaping stare with a blistering nostril-flared one of his own, licking over his salient bottom lip into that bewitching pout and clenching his jaw.

A small part of you threatens to collapse under guilt as if you have been caught doing something wrong. But you find the majority of you seethes under a new tantalizing flame, devouring any clemency present.

Almost drunk off of this new power dynamic, finally, you have the upper hand and Jake is the one squirming. Of course, you want Jake over this clown any day of the week but he had made you wait almost all night, he can definitely handle a few more minutes.

You spin, now facing towards Jake’s beaming acrimony from the bar, allowing him a full access view to you commandeering one of Hunter's hands connected to the small of your back and slowly guiding him down to your ass, the other to your waist. You press your backside against his pelvis and his hips follow, grinding in the motions of your own.

You stretch upward as high behind you as you can, sinking your fingers into Hunter’s thick black curls. Just to sell it, you showmanly lean your head back against Hunter’s shoulder and whisper sweet nothings in his ear when he leans down into you.

You glance up at your petulant victim to see Jake roll his eyes and throw his head back in a deriding chuckle before he slams down the rest of his pint. Jake is most certainly under your spell.

You tell yourself that each song with Hunter is the last dance until you’re unsure how many have passed. Any concept of time you own is completely suspended in the delicious way Jake looks when he is hungry to devour what he can’t have, and in this moment it happens to be you.

Abruptly, you feel yourself being swept towards the nearest wall and your face being tilted up towards Hunter’s as he cranes his mouth down to meet yours.

It is nice. Pleasurable for sure. He is definitely a good kisser, but again all you can bring yourself to think of is Jake’s perfectly pink pouty lips pressed against yours.

There is no point in tormenting Jake if you are just as miserable.

As you are about to break away from the stale kiss, Hunter’s weight that is pinning you up against the wall unexpectedly falters, sending you fumbling to the floor. You attempt to regain your balance but the room is slightly spinning, a likely side effect from the alcohol in your bloodstream. You might have questioned it having only had a drink or two if your focus wasn’t currently employed by figuring your way back to vertical.

A hand makes its way into your line of sight, offering to help you up. You swat away the aid, recognizing it as Jake’s. He huffs and shakes his head vexed. Jake brings himself closer to the whirling stack of bones that you are on the floor and tenaciously claps his rangy hands around your waist; making a show to assign his fingers in the exact arrangement where Hunter’s had just been. He devoutly springs you to your feet as if you'd rehearsed the move. As soon as you gain your footing you step back from Jake and dust yourself off, despite landing on a clean floor.

You inspect your crumbs of clues; the boys glaring at each other and at the brink of verbal warfare. You arrive at the conclusion that a fuming Jake had let all restraint dissipate as he shoved Hunter off of you in his impulsive fit.

“Why don’t you go find some other victim to slam into a wall,” Jake snarls, “she’s had enough for tonight.”

“She didn’t seem to have a problem when she was dancing all over me,” Hunter shoots back genuinely confused, “are you supposed to be her boyfriend or something?”

You race to interject, “He is not,” addressing Hunter but then throw your finger in Jake’s face, “and you have no right-”

Hunter takes one big territorial step to cleat himself between you and your oppressor. An exasperated Jake scowls at your fictitious defender and back to you, his features melting into a sickened sight as if to ask if you are really going to allow him to be vilified as the threat.

Of course protection from Jake is the last thing you will ever need. He could say whatever he’d like but Jake will never lay a harmful finger to you.

However, the hunt makes the game. You subtly shrug at Jake and let the mens’ egos carry out your dirty work.

Hunter sets his fist on Jake’s sternum in an attempt to get him to step back, “Mate, she doesn’t seem to be into it so why don’t you give us some space.”

This is the trigger that detonates the antagonized man just in front of your human shield.

“Oh trust me, mate,” he mimics Hunter in an explosion, the shrapnel riding your blood to your cheeks, “when I say I happen to know what the little slut is into and it is definitely not-” Jake is cut off by a panicky Josh now stepping in between the two before Jake can say anything he can’t take back.

Josh seems to instruct his detesting brother through glances. You always find it hard to properly digest a situation with the appropriate amount of severity when the twins begin conversing with mere facial expressions.

It only lasts for a second or two before Jake refixes his glare towards Hunter. Mirroring Jake, Josh returns to Hunter with an antsy smile and places a friendly hand on his barely-reachable shoulder, as if he is about to deliver bad news.

“Sorry about him,” he starts to mediate, motioning towards his fuming twin he shrugs and chuckles nervously, “tequila makes him aggressive.”

You almost giggle at Josh’s flamboyant rescue. He is a detail oriented man who is verbally quick on his feet. He usually paints pictures you can not poke holes in. So you know he must be distraught or drunk as you hadn't even seen Jake drink an ounce of liquor since he arrived.

However, Hunter doesn’t seem quite as amused as he slaps Josh's hand off and grunts, “Whatever, I don’t do crazy exes anyway.”

He insincerely waves you off and facetiously blows Jake a kiss in one last satirical jab before sauntering off, dematerializing amongst the crowd.

Jake now recoils from Josh’s touch and waits for him to vanish as well. However, Josh’s sight seeks you and bears a disapproving nod, warning you to behave in a glower. For a split second, you forget he is a twin as his protective demeanor is all that of a vigilant elder sibling.

Nevertheless, Josh makes his way back to where he had been so unnecessarily interrupted and dragged away from Claire.

Your attention gravitates to Jake in daggers. Before you can form any thoughts or strategy, venom goes flying past your lips, “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!”

Jake swivels his head around, slightly panicking at all the partygoers that had stopped party going to sightsee this freak show. He never likes to be the center of attention unless he has six strings and a fretboard under his fingers.

Nimbly, he leads you by the arm into the nearby bathroom and slams the door shut.

You throw your arms out in confusion, “Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

He fires back, “No, just my patience with you!”

The room is small enough now that his scent circulates and the offensive smell of beer and bourbon attacks your senses; which explains his uncharacteristic boldness.

“Shit, Jake, you smell like a fucking brewery,” you spit out.

He seems to grasp how sloppy he let himself get. Your words siphon a hint of sobriety as he takes a deep breath and now speaks to you with a much more repealed approach.

You can tell he is still upset but is focusing on his convictions for the moment, “Are you okay? I didn’t mean for you to fall like that.” He hesitates, “And I’m sorry- I have no idea why I called you slut- I didn’t mean-”

You are nearly swept away by the sweet breeze of your angelic Jake; the one that trips over his words when he gets excited and loves to take on whimsical personas of his own invention. Jake that is present and kind, even at the end of the night. But just like a fleeting breeze, you easily withstand his charms.

He may have found his composure but you certainly did not, not that you want to, “I’m fine, Jacob! Want to explain whatever the shit that was?!”

Any remorse present in his tone abandons him, “Oh please, you wanted that! I could see it all over your face while you were messing with that prick. I don’t even know why I'm surprised. You’re like a child who throws a fucking fit. The moment I don't do or tell you exactly what you want you go throw yourself into the arms of some random no-good fuck. I knew you were with him as soon as you went radio silent.”

You narrow your eyes at him. You’re almost suspicious of the blank canvas he’s left for you to fill in with logic; he’s usually ten points ahead when debating, never speaking a vulnerable statement for someone to collapse before him. You are almost hesitant to ask the question.

Your hand finds your hip as a means to reinforce your interrogation, “That’s just it, isn’t it? You don’t own me, Jake! So what if I was dancing with Hunter?”

He rolls his eyes and growls at the mention of his name. If Jake were an ounce more theatrical you swear he would have gagged too.

You cross your arms and lean into the balls of your feet as you sharpen your questions, knowing you have him trapped, “If you knew, why did you even show up then? Why do you even care? It’s not like I’m your girlfriend or anything?”

He blurts out way too quickly to disguise any aloofness, “I don’t care!”

Jake immediately throws his head back in defeat and groans, crumbling under further rumination of your questions, as if they frustrate him as much as they do you, “I don’t know! You just- It kills me to see you- sometimes- you make me so-”

He is struggling to articulate his thoughts without making himself look like the blatant asshole, but you see right through it.

You, however, have no problem spitting the word out. In fact, it progresses the igneous tension between the two of you into a delicious sweltering burn.

You dangle the word right in front of him just to watch him squirm, “Jealous?”

The accusation furrows his brow and tightens his shoulders.

If you didn’t know any better, his sudden dark tone would have you red with shame for such an accusation, “You think I’m jealous? Trust me, kitten, you haven’t even seen jealousy. Go fuck that guy for all I care.”

You giggle and raise a slanderous eyebrow, soundlessly challenging his overtly bogus defense. Your defiance vacillates Jake back to his munition.

He charges towards you, his footsteps following the alignment of his pointer finger swinging in your direction, “What the fuck are you smiling at- You know what?! Fuck this and fuck you! You always do this. Always getting me into more trouble than I bargain for.”

Jake is growling in fragments now, growing taller with every step he takes drawing in towards you, surrendering to your gravity.

“This isn’t me! I’m not this person who gets jealous and fights with strangers at a party,” he gestures his clenched fists towards you, arms length away now, “And I don’t like being angry with you!”

Jake corners you between the wall and a stall, yet his rushing commute ceases to falter, “And what’s worse is I actually think you enjoy this! You must get off on this! I think you want to see me lose my mind!”

Jake is close enough that you are now confronted by the moles that cradle his right jaw, the charming silver starting to streak from his temples, the sculpt in the cartilage of his prominent nose, the slight uneven curl of his upper lip and the barely there freckles that line the ample lower. Details no camera could capture and no screaming fan could ever have knowledge of; intimate details one would ever amass without his admission.

If he moves any closer he would have to kiss you. He scolded you for getting worked up off his anger when he was doing the exact same thing. The worst part being you aren’t even sure if he has caught on to this rage-driven gravitation between the two of you. His face reads “Caution, stay away,” but his body is imploring you to take care of him. He is right where you want him, giving you all the power once again.

He resumes waving his finger at you and stiffly pokes your collarbone. He opens his mouth to make another point but his words never deliver themselves. You see his very thoughts dematerialize as he touches your buzzing skin.

He doesn’t even lift his finger from you, just lets it fall to the start of your breasts, making your chest heave. He subconsciously presses his body to yours; so close you catch his erratic breaths on your lips.

You hastily retort while he is distracted, “That’s pretty amusing considering you're the asshole that ruined my night, not the other way around, slut.”

He rakes the pad of his finger still connected to you, up your clavicle till it rests at the top of your outermost prominent neck muscle, delicately wrapping the rest of his digits around your throat once he runs out of room. He sinks further into your orbit so that he is now hovering just above your features.

“Look at you, just begging for someone to put you in your place,” he rasps out, ever so slightly applying a teasing pressure to reduce your air flow.

Collecting yourself enough to stream your words out in a lazy river, you dare taunt the feral man that holds your next breath between his fingers, “Look at you, Jacob, absolutely rabid with jealousy.”

“I’ve had it with your little attitude,” his hand delectably contorts further around your throat in a fit of conniption as he roars through clenched teeth, “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t fucking drag me here to make me jealous.”

“Bite me, Jake,” you roll your eyes at his arrogance.

You expect him to snap at you, to reprimand you for your insubordination. However, to your surprise he laps one long stripe from the corner of your pout to the start of your cheekbone. The action expels your nerves into shock; a shudder slithers its way up your spine.

Jake sighs against the shell of your ear, “Is that why you’re being such a little fucking brat? You just want me to bite you, sweetheart? Is that it?”

Your only response is a whimper as a crackling heat awakes between your thighs and your hips grind into Jake on their own accord; giving him the only answer he needs.

Satiated by your feedback, Jake nearly moans at regaining the upper hand, “I swear- and why should I even care, kitten?”

You urgently squeal, struggling against your constricting airway, “Because it’s your fault! I’ve never craved attention until you did this to me!”

Cocking his head to the side to purport the appearance of a disapproving analysis, he mocks your need, “How did we end up like this, beautiful? We are absolutely no good for each other.”

You don’t bother devising a clever response, knowing he’s already decided to give you what you want.

He clenches his jaw and runs his tongue along the ridges of his teeth, twisting the pink muscle into the crevices of his molars, “It’s rude to stare, kitten. Do I need to teach you how to use that pretty smart mouth of yours?”

You only bat your eyes at him, your expressionless face waiting for what you know comes next.

He raises an eyebrow at you, impatient for some response and mutters, “Say something.”

A shit-eating grin sneaks its way onto your face, “Don’t forget to lock the door, babyboy.”

Jake’s once kind eyes grow dark to an absolutely immoral shade of lust. Heedlessly, his lips crash against yours, the sensation you’ve fantasized about since the last time his mouth deserted yours. He tastes of bourbon and peaches.

He slips his hands around your ass and hauls you up to straddle his waist. You wrap your legs around him as he staggers towards the door lock as you instructed, as if he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you long enough to complete the task first.

Jake places you on the sink and protestingly pries himself back from you, as if starving for more but looking at you was a vital duty he must perform.

His eyes plot you up and down, infatuated with this strand of you, reserved only for him. You don’t have to say a word for Jake to know what happens when he’s away; the way you move for him confesses everything he is already aware of. He is the only one capable of having you completely and utterly vulnerable and unguarded and unadulterated; animalistically yourself.

For the first time tonight, Jake’s pretty pout draws back in a genuine smile for you; a giddy fool and his favorite fix.

He gracefully reaches to untie your wrap blouse and it falls to your sides, uncurtaining your heaving breasts. He hums in satisfaction of your physique.

Jake lightly places his hands on your knees and observes as his fingers featherly dance upon your thighs, only to stop and squeeze into the thick of them until he leaves white imprints. He curls into you, Jake’s perpetually exposed chest rubbing against your newly bare nipples, extracting a hiss from you.

Your core already weeps with need.

The hungry man burrows his face into your neck but stops right before his lips meet your skin, knowing you desperately need his mouth.

He teases you with a tickling whisper, “Fuck- I missed you. They don’t make girls like you in Nashville.”

The ribbing huff of his breath makes you shudder.

You press your hand against his hip, slide it down the curve of his thigh and inward till you map out his hard length through his pants, “I can see, you poor thing.”

Your movement draws a low growl from him in your ear, “Fuck- You see what you do to me, kitten? You see all the problems you cause me?”

You begin to palm him through his clothes and feign out a bratty whine, “Yes, but we always have such a good time, don’t we Jakey?”

Jake begins to eat at your neck while you continue to caress him until he moves down and out of your reach.

He plots out your clavicle, licking down your sternum through the valley of your peaking breasts; delaying his journey to lap one of your nipples into his warm salacious mouth as he gropes the other in his lanky hand. A few mumbled swears fall from you as Jake begins to venture in biting and sucking marks into the supple flesh of your breasts, soothing each spot with candied kisses afterwards.

“Shit- just when I thought these perfect tits couldn’t get any prettier. An absolutely breathtaking sight with my bitemarks,” he pants.

Jake’s mouth resumes its migration south to your goosebump ridden thighs. He sinks his fingers into the flesh of your ass, resting his elbows against the corners of the sink for balance as he lowers the rest of his body to accommodate the angle of your glistening center.

His mouth now takes purchase of where his fingertips had just deserted your thighs, kissing away the residual sting; closer and closer to your entrance till his head vanishes, canopied in between your skirt and legs. You feel the heat of his huffing through the lace of your panties. The sensation alone is enough to make you whine with need. Jake then bites into the material of your damp thong, sampling your arousal as he tugs your underwear to the side using his teeth. Jake plants his lips to yours in a row of delicate kisses, making you quiver with anticipation.

“Wider,” he growls out the demand.

You lean back to let your bare shoulder blades rest against the ice cold mirror behind you in order to grant him better access to your wetness. Jake is entranced as he gapes at how the chill glass spells you to hiss and clench around nothing.

He takes a deep inhale of you and slots the tip of his nose against your entrance. In one agonizingly slow movement he reclines his head so that his nose flits over your aching clit as he sticks out the flat of his tongue to follow the lewd trail.

You open your mouth to sing his praises but all that comes out is his name in a hiccuping squeak.

He then wraps his ample lips around your throbbing clit and nimbly sucks it into the warm plush of his mouth, swirling his velvety tongue around your bud.

The deed elicits a piteous wail to escape you and the confiscation of any remaining control over your restless limbs. Your hips involuntarily swing forward, seeking more of his mouth.

He rewards you with a swift smack against your thigh, “Easy,” he begins to plant light kisses on your entrance, “needy little thing today, aren’t you?”

Having not fully removed his mouth from you, the vibrations of his teasing words sends unexpected ripples of titillation humming through you, instigating your reeling squirms further, “Relax, kitten. I know how to take care of you. I know what you need.”

He finally unlatches his other hand from your ass. You hadn’t even registered the delicious sting of his fingers over the imperious pleasure of his mouth; a pain promising to blossom into pretty hues of purples, blues, and greens.

He delineates the curve of your thigh with his fingertips, finally fluttering over your entrance. Impatiently, he hikes your skirt up to bunch at your waist. He savagely yanks your lace underwear down and over your ankles, not even bothering to wait for you to adjust to help slip the material off. He looks to you with a seemingly innocent goofy grin as he pockets his newly pillaged treasure.

You roll your eyes and press your lips together to stifle your obvious giggle. In a feigned offense, Jake snatches your ankles in his grasp to reestablish his authority and your attention. Slowly, he lifts your legs to settle your thighs around his shoulders, careful not to throw off your balance on the porcelain counter.

You lock your ankles around him as his hands pet up your legs and wrap around your thighs to bore into your flesh. Jake reintroduces his mouth to your soaking entrance, sloppily devouring your nectar.

Though pleasing, you know he is holding out on you. Jake loves to hear you beg; for you to pray for what you know he can’t help but give you.

“Jake, more,” you demand despite knowing it will land void.

He immediately ceases his feed and arrogantly reminds you of your place, “Oh, I don’t think you’re in any position to give orders now, are you kitten?”

Mourning the loss of his mouth, you choke on a sob, “No, Jake!”

He tenderly begins to brush his digits along your skin, “That’s right, but I happen to know that pretty mouth sings a lot lovelier than she barks.”

He moves one of his thumbs to circle over your swollen clit as incentive, making his compulsion undeniable.

You desperately pant out your pleas, “Please- Shit- Please, Jake. I need- Jake- Fuck- fingers?”

“Sorry, baby, you’re not making any sense,” he terrorizes you now, stretching a free digit from your bud to tease your entrance.

You manage to piece together your needs enough to satisfy him, “Jake- please, I need your fingers- need them inside me- I need to soak them- please, baby?”

Your scandalous words draw a sweet moan from him. The vivacious grant of your request tells you he can’t stand to make you wait any longer.

He begins pumping his middle and ring finger inside you, making you mewl his name.

He once again envelopes your clit in his lips and begins to suck and lap you towards ecstasy. You feel the euphoric tension strain your abdomen as Jake curls his fingers around the spot he always seems to effortlessly discover.

“Fuck- Jake don’t stop- please- please don’t stop,” your voice reaches the high pitch only he brings it to.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, you sound too pretty with my fingers inside you to deny,” he coos against your sensitive clit.

Jake’s lustful praises send you into an orgasmic haze as your walls squeeze around his fingers and back arches away from the mirror.

As he feels you getting close, Jake begins to coach you, “Relax for me, beautiful. Can you relax that pretty pussy for me?”

You inventory only enough coherency to wantonly moan, indicating your process of his demand.

“Good girl, that's it. Just breathe and take it,” his praises coerce you into obedience.

Even though every endorphin in your body is imploring you to writhe at Jake’s touch, you do your best to relax and breathe as he ordered. You relent to Jake’s fingers, allowing him to caress into a new spot, a fresh wave of sensitivity finding you.

He knows he’s found the place as soon as you squeal his name in response. He begins to violently fuck deep into you with his hand, pumping in and out of you, his fingertips catching his new target every time, catapulting you into your orgasm. You're consumed by white heat as you soar through your ecstasy.

You’ve cleared through your orgasm yet oddly the tension in your abdomen is not alleviated but is now twice as constricting.

Jake never ceases to send his fingers in and out of you at a furious pace and the pressure that builds is of a different class, requiring your whole body to participate in your release. Where he was once babying his mark, he is now assaulting it; his digits curling into you with every pump. The sloppy sounds of Jake finger fucking you grows louder with every stroke.

His lips swallow your clit, slurping you into his mouth for safekeeping, sending you into overdrive as you approach this new release. Your pussy begins to convulse and contract around Jake but he drives into you faster still.

“That’s it, babygirl, cum for me. I’ve missed having you on my tongue,” his words barely make their way into your consciousness.

Your vision begins to black out as your eyes roll back and your slick sprays his face and coats his hands.

Yet, Jake refuses to cease his assault. Your climax builds within you so tight, it rips its way out of you. Your cunt expels a deluge of liquids and continues to pour into Jake’s hand with every dizzying clench of your cunt. Again. Again. And again. Until you are downpour, trickling past his wrist and onto the tile floor.

“Fucking shit- Jacob- don’t stop- I can’t- I’m still cumming- Ja- Baby- Jacob,” your voice melodically crashes and breaks against waves of rasping screams and swearing whimpers louder still, floating off somewhere in oblivion.

Jake thinks it's the most beautiful you’ve ever sounded. Your body finally gives, and you collapse back against the mirror behind the sink. After a few seconds you peek your eyes open to see the mess you made.

He pulls away from you to stand once again and observes his glistening hand in a gaping awe, unphased by your cum dripping down his chin.

“I love when you do that,” he mutters more to himself than you as he slurps your elixir from his own limb.

He isn’t even touching you but the pornagraphic sight reels a moan from you.

“Does my beautiful girl want a taste of her own orgasm?”

He places his fingers along your lips, waiting for your consent. You stick your tongue out and he slides his digits up along the textured muscle until you stifle a slight gag; the veins that decorate his knuckles pressing into your top lip.

He pulls your mouth closer to his with his fingers, slipping them out just before he slides his tongue between your lips; you further taste your glaze as he licks into your mouth.

He impatiently pulls away from you with a hungry groan and scatters to undo his belt. His pants fall to his ankles, his normally hidden curves now visible; a delectable sight you will never grow tired of. His physique is appetizingly curvier than most men and the very view made your dripping pussy flutter without remedy.

Jake catches your ravenous stare and arrogantly quips, “See something you like, kitten?”

Rather than respond, you greedily grab at him and slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. You tug him closer along with the material and shimmy it down to liberate his hard painfully pink penis.

“I missed you too,” you run a finger over his leaking tip, causing his head to roll back in a hiss, “and this pretty cock.”

In one swift movement, you quickly gather your remaining arousal on his face in your free hand and reach down to slather his throbbing dick. You lay messy open mouth kisses along his jaw and neck as you now lightly pump him in your hand.

“Fuck- you’re so hot,” Jake rasps out at the loss of composure; his mouth slacks agape as you continue to jerk him off.

You move your hand to flick at his head and his features further melt in bliss.

“Slow down,” he whimpers, ”I want to be dripping down your thighs, not your hand,” his statement demands your submission.

You can tell Jake is unraveling fast as he starts twitching in your fingers. He is close until he obstinately pulls you away from him by the wrist.

You pout out an apology and he relocates your hands around his shoulders, and grabs your waist as he paints your cheek with open mouth kisses. His tongue works a long stripe behind your ear and sucks your lobe into his mouth.

He speaks through teeth clenched around your cartilage, “You always misbehave like such a brat, but underneath it all my girl is just a sweet thing, aren’t you?”

His intimate words alone render you to a din of pitiful mutters and swears.

You feel him begin to press his hard cock into the thick of your thigh, involuntarily pursuing relief, “You just need someone who knows what you are, hmm? Knows what you need?”

You praise and beg as your center is reintroduced to that familiar ache, “Jake, please. You know what I need.”

The sensation of Jake grinding himself against your leg dissolves all restraint. You try to buck your hips towards him in search of what you want most, but he doesn’t let you succeed. Jake arrests your waist to push you further back onto the sink.

He snickers at your cupidity, “What a greedy little slut. Just came a fucking mess and you already want more.”

You stroke his ego with hopes flattery will seduce him, “Yes- I’m a glutton for you, please, Jake?”

You scoot back up to the edge of the sink and grab at him; mad for his touch. Instead, your ambition is requited with a stinging smack to your cunt as he bellows the command, “Sit still! I’m not going to tell you again.”

You can’t help the fearless groan that echoes throughout the small room.

He bitterly miffs, “Yea? Should have thought about that before you were fucking around with that shit for brains?”

“Jake, I’m sorry,” you gravel, growing more impatient by the second that you can’t feel him.

Your insincere words purchase you no spoils as he taunts you further, “Good- You have no idea. I wanted to break his fucking nose wide open! What was his name again, sweet thing?”

Before you can fashion any remark, he yanks you to teeter on the end of the countertop once again. Jake, shaft in hand, drives his throbbing tip just past your lips, and flicks himself against your sensitive clit.

Your knuckles grip white against the corners of the porcelain struggling to remain in place as you whimper gibberish, “Fuck- Jake- I- MMM- fuck-”

“Look at my good sweet girl, so cock drunk she can’t even remember the pawn she was using to make me jealous a few minutes ago,” he smugly croons.

He featherly runs his fingers through the tresses of your hair. As he smooths down your mane you cave into his touch.

“I fucking hated seeing you with him,” his words drip with scorn, “It killed me. You deserve better because you’re my good girl.”

Lining himself up to press into your labia, he docks his forehead against your clavicle to look down at his toying with you. Slightly arching forward, his pink head only just glides past your entrance.

You are teetering over the line of ditzy, Jake’s tantalizing quips being the only tether before you are too far gone, “What a filthy slut? Playing dirty to get Daddy’s attention?”

Any remaining composure flees from you as the name is growled against your skin and you immediately call it back to him, “Shit- I’m- fuck- I’m sorry, Daddy. Please, fuck me?!”

One hand still residing in your hair, he tugs by the root to guide your ear to his open mouth, “Well you’ve got my attention now, my sweet little fucked out thing.”

Without warning, Jake mercilessly thrusts himself inside you to the hilt. You slap your hand over your mouth to silence the obscene wails tearing through you.

Jake promptly rips your hand away, “Don’t you fucking dare. I want everyone to hear my little cock drunk slut sing.”

Without granting you an opportunity to adjust to his girth, he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to plunge himself all the way back in, driving into that magical spot.

Just as that illustrious need grows in your stomach, Jake pulls out completely. You don’t have the opportunity to protest before he gathers you from off the countertop and twists you around towards your reflection. He gingerly presses his touch into the protruding shape of your shoulder blade, lightly ushering you to lean over the slab of the counter. You surrender to Jake’s decree, not willing to risk your orgasm.

Jake finds your fucked out gaze through the mirror and faintly adjures, “I want you to watch as I fuck you.”

You know better than to mistake his lowly tone for submission. You lean your weight on your elbows as you settle against the sink and raise your head to take in every detail as Jake begins fuck into you from behind.

His pace starts off moderate, but every stroke pierces deep. Your eyes are spellbound by the vision of his pelvic bone slamming into your ass with every harsh swing of his hips.

You do your best to keep your eyes visible as his rhythm picks up, but inevitably your head hangs limp, dizzy from your approaching high. You resign from your efforts once he begins to rock into you faster, burying himself further in your cunt.

You are compensated by a half-lidded Jake forcing your head back up by your chin, “Nah-uh. Look at me, baby.”

You manage to anchor your head where Jake repositioned it, but you are helpless to the way your eyes roll back as he swivels his hips rutting into that sweet spot. Jake grants you exoneration as your walls tighten around his twitching cock, indicating you are close.

Your every muscle trembles as you are abraded by your final orgasm. You're too far gone in your trance. You babble a gibbered language of swears and crying moans as you give into the chemical release.

“Just one more for me, babygirl, you can take it,” he hushes you.

You are strung back from your trip by the stutter of Jake’s hips and hiccuping moans. He is close. You see him tire as he curls around you, his panting grunts tickling your skin.

“Come on, baby,” you root for him despite your own overstimulation, “fuck me full. Want it so bad.”

You are captivated by the reflection of his features contorting under bliss as he fights to keep his hips in motion. You roll your hips to follow Jake’s strokes as his high suspends his stamina.

His eyes roll back as he begins to convulse, his dick jerking inside you. He releases, his lewd moan of absolute venery graces your ears as he empties himself inside you, coating your pulsing walls.

Jake goes limp, briefly taking refuge against your backside as he catches his breath and you come down from your highs together. He lazily litters your skin with kisses wherever his lips can reach.

He sighs against your spine, “Fuck- you’re magnificent. Absolutely electric.”

He wills himself to stand vertical, tugging his pants back in place over his hips before he eases you upright. Assisting you with his steady grip on your pelvis, the steamy skin of his lithe chest sticks to your backside. He wraps an arm around your waist to hold you steady as your knees buckle upon landing, pulling you into him once more. He bows his head to warrant his lips to lathe your neck, savoring the salt of your skin.

Far too consumed to break away from his sloppy kisses, he tilts his head as his eyes hunt for the reflection of yours, “But I meant what I said earlier, we’re no good for each other.”

He nibbles his way up and sucks at the muscle of your jaw, “I like you way more than I planned to but there’s no way we can continue like this, babygirl.”

You go numb; the only sensation present being pins and needles pricking your chest. His words spell you dumb, abolishing any sense to speak or move.

He delicately spins you to face him once again and tenderly kisses the tip of your nose.

Jakes slightly pulls back to skillfully tie your blouse back up for you, “Whatever this is, it's got to settle here.”

“Jake- you-,” you breathlessly chase for the tail of your thought that doesn’t seem to exist.

He squeezes your hands in his, “I mean it, kitten, don’t call me anymore. I won’t pick up for you.”

The tender manner in which his lips love on you does not mesh with his condemning words.

He draws back to see tears you aren’t aware are now rolling down your flushed cheeks.

He lets go of one of your hands to cup your jaw and kisses the salty sadness from your features, “Don’t cry, baby, you’re perfect.”

He envelopes your lips between his one last time before he brings your hand still in his grasp to place his pucker against your knuckles and whisper, “Please take care of yourself for me, babygirl.”

You are prisoner to paralyzation as those enticing amber eyes abandon you; rendering you to nothing but shattered forsaken ruins strewn across an empty bathroom, grasping and grappling to purchase any sort of rationale beyond the carnage.

You’re forced to silently choke on consternation at the sight of his chestnut waves bouncing against his shoulders as Jake weightlessly vanishes through the swinging door.

pretty please let me know what you think🫶🏼

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let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list and know y’all have already made this so rewarding❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (teaser !!)

the ring doesnt always have to be filled with violence.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

contains; boxer! seungcheol, part-time barista! reader, gamer! wonu, part-time model! mingyu, rapper! vernon, vocalist! joshua (he appears for an open mic scene), they're all in college so college! au, psychology major! wonwoo, art major! vernon, art major! mingyu, business major! reader, business major! seungcheol, hhu playing cupid and matchmaker, no second lead syndrome drama kinda shit bcs i said so, childhood friends to lovers, seungcheol and reader lost contact somewhere in their teen years, seungcheol is an absolute simp for reader, multiple types of tropes to be found, seungcheol is rich (like absolutely filthy rich), same goes to the rest of the hhu (they don't flaunt it like how you'd expect most rich kids to do, just that occasionally reader would have a moment of realisation where she goes 'right, they have the money for that'), reader and her family aren't as rich but are well off enough to have a comfortable lifestyle (working middle class) there's fluff, some occasional angst

mature themes include; sexual tension, making out, lazily making out, fingering, oral (f&m receiving), dacryphilia, cheol is filthy rich and has a filthy mouth to go along with it, corruption kink, marking kink, unprotected sex (pls wrap it before you tap it), dom! cheol, sub! reader, light bondage, lots of cussing, etc

a/n; yaho~ ik i've been gone for what, 3 years? but, i am back baby! (read in shane/ryan's voice from buzzfeed/watcher) and first fic ofc, i'm dedicating it to my beloved husband, cheol <33 this fic basically proves my permanent residence in delululand lmao 🥴

click here to join the taglist ♡

"you... want me to join your endurance stream?"

a small hum was met with your question as wonwoo took a sip from his can of black monster energy drink. "...but, why..?" you asked, completely confused.

it wasn't as if you didn't like the idea, though you were caught off guard as the only games you've ever played were... well, more catered towards your style of aesthetic. games such as animal crossing, melatonin, a little to the left.

wonwoo's taste in games on the other hand, they were what you'd expect from majority of the male demographic on earth ㅡ FNAF, first person shooter games, he has a huge obsession with chilla's art games (to which you understand why after watching his playthrough of 'the closing shift' and 'night delivery').

the usual horror, thriller and action genre is what you're getting at.

"reason number one, you're pretty. and no, i'm not trying to hit on you," he then proceeded to raise his hand as if he was taking an oath, "i swear i'm not. i meant it as in, who wouldn't want to watch a pretty girl play games? i know your preferred genre of games and mine are two different worlds but, i'm sure we can compromise."

wonwoo surveys both your surroundings, seemingly to check whether the coast was clear; before propping his arms onto the coffee table and leaning forward.

"reason number two being if you join, i'll be able to get seungcheol to join too."

"so, you're getting me to join so you can get cheol to join?" placing a hand over your chest, you faked betrayal, "i feel so hurt that you're only using me as bait, woo."

"hey, i also want you to join, okay?"

taking a sip from your milkshake, you stared at wonwoo, urging him to continue his explanation.

"___, please. i even had the whole process of the endurance stream planned out! i just need seungcheol hyung to say yes, and you're the key to getting him to say yes!"

"woo, you're friends, of course he'll agree! i don't understand how i play a role in this. i'm sure bantering with mingyu, or even trying a 'no cuss' bet with vernon would be enough to get him to say yes."

shaking his head while sighing, he muttered out a "it's not that simple..."

"woo, i seriously don't get it."

"___, i'm going to be extremely honest, okay?"

you shoot the male sitting front of you a confused look, which prompted him to take a sip of his drink.

"this isn't the first time i've done an endurance stream, i'm sure you know that too. and i'm sure you've seen seungcheol join them but, not all the time. you'll notice it's usually gyu or vernon with me and chat's pretty much made it an inside joke that hyung's a rare pokemon sighting on my streams."

you let out a small laugh at seungcheol being called a rare pokemon sighting, which makes wonwoo smile.

"and, as of late, i've noticed that whenever we hung out, seungcheol would be there too. regardless if he had a match the previous night and his entire body is sore."

"but... we're friends, no? why wouldn't he be there?"

"okay, allow me to rephrase that sentence."

"mmm?"

"seungcheol hyung will only say yes if you're there too."

you're mouth opened slightly, shocked and confused. as you tried to process wonwoo's sentence, he added on.

"and this is just my assumption based on what i've observed from the day vernon introduced you up to now."

"you sound like a psychiatrist, woo..."

"i am a psychology student, no?"

"touché. and what have you concluded from your observation, mr jeon?"

"i think seungcheol likes you."

[juyeonszn]

NECTAR

PAIRING kim sunwoo x f!reader

WORD COUNT 7.14k

GENRES smut ﹒ fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, umm age gap!! reader is like 10 or so years older than sunwoo (it’s never really specified what her exact age is), reader is also eric’s older sister, there’s a bit of spanish thrown in here lol they’re in mexico for vacation what did u expect, sun eric and hak are professional baseball players, there’s a scene where a waitress is kinda icky to reader bc she’s older, i think mentions of alcohol, sunwoo is down BAD down bad to the point of no return it’s crazy, he’s also a horny impatient little shit, soft dom!sunwoo ig idk, oral (m! & f! receiving), face fucking, handjob ish, a little bit of hair pulling, vaginal fingering, So Much Praise, UNPROTECTED SEX pls be safe!!, edging, delayed orgasm kinda, missionary position, creampie, aftercare :P, the last scene is so cute and disgusting i hate couples

SUMMARY despite being nearly a decade older than him, sunwoo’s always had his eyes on you. so when your younger brother invites you to join them on vacation, you fall right into his trap. you can’t really blame him for finally taking the bait after all these years.

MORE woah hey again 😋 this one isn’t as wild as the hyunjae fic, but it has its moments LOLL if u ever read my warnings about this when it was on my wip list, then u know that this was actually an old fic back from when i wrote for anime 😭 i changed a lot tbh but a good chunk of the original plot is still there 👍 i got inspo for the last scene from a tumblr quote my irl posted on instagram isn’t that crazy anyway….. enjoy!!

PLAYLIST nectar — wayv, tangerine love (favorite) — nct dream, delicious — the boyz, passion fruit — the boyz, horizon — jaehyun, moonlight sunrise — twice

When you agreed to go with your younger brother on a vacation in Mexico for a week with his friends, you weren’t sure what you were expecting.

You knew your brother’s friends well. They'd gone to high school together and after partly going their separate ways following graduation, decided to go on yearly trips to make up for any lost time. This year, the destinations were the gorgeous beaches of Mexico. Cozumel, Cancun, you name it. You were hitting all the spots.

Those were the luxuries of being the older sister of a professional baseball player.

From the start of your getaway, every single one of your movements felt like they were being watched. Your skin burned with the heat of mocha brown eyes staring at you. Half of you wanted to point it out to Eric, but figured you’d save yourself from the drama. Besides, you were a big girl and two could play at that game.

The first instance took place before you even left for the trip.

You lived about an hour away from Eric and since you were all taking the same flight, you thought it would be more convenient to just ride to the airport together. And because he was closer to the airport, he offered for you to stay at his and Sunwoo’s apartment. Haknyeon would be meeting you there due to prior engagements with his own team.

When you arrived at your brother’s place, you immediately regretted it. You hadn’t called before going over and Eric happened to be out, leaving you alone with Sunwoo. There was nothing wrong with him, you just hadn’t seen him in a couple years and you were afraid of it being awkward.

The younger male helped you bring your things inside, huffing when he dropped your suitcases in the guest bedroom. He wipes away imaginary sweat from his forehead, blowing out a raspberry as he turns to face you.

“Did you pack bricks in there? Why the fuck was that so heavy?”

You laugh. Sunwoo had always been quite the clown as long as you’d known him. “I’m a girl, what did you expect? We never pack lightly.”

“You can say that again,” he snorts, twisting his torso to pop his back. “Uh, are you hungry? We have some leftover takeout in the fridge ‘cause you know damn well neither of us know how to cook.”

Before you can respond, you’re distracted by the sight of him raising his arms to stretch, his t-shirt riding up to show a sliver of his abdomen. From the way his slender fingers lock above his head to the taut skin peeking behind the fabric, you’re entranced. Your brain finally comprehends the fact that Kim Sunwoo was no longer a teenage boy, but rather a grown man.

He clears his throat, breaking your trance and forcing you to stop staring. Your cheeks flush slightly as you attempt to hide the embarrassment flooding your features. His lips are pulled into a smug grin, making you aware that he caught you. He doesn’t say anything though, keeping the cocky smirk as he leaves the room. (Presumably to go to the kitchen.)

With hefty feet, you drag yourself to follow. He’s already warming up the leftovers for you as you take a seat at the island barstool, resting your chin on your palm and your elbows on the counter. Your moment from a few minutes ago is long forgotten as you become transfixed by him on the other side of the island.

It’s weird for you to think about how much Eric has matured, coming from an older sister’s point of view. But having that same realization for Sunwoo is a completely different can of worms. You watch as he extracts the container out of the microwave and opens a drawer beside him to grab a pair of chopsticks simultaneously, all without skipping a beat.

He spins on his heels to place the food in front of you, pausing when he notices that you’re staring at him again. The glint in your eyes was more wholesome than before and it made his heart stutter in his chest. He slides the container across the surface of the island, leaning closer to you.

It was almost like your gaze trapped him in a spell, taking over his actions and drawing him towards you like a magnet. He’s never wanted you as much as he did right now, seeing you in his home, sitting on the stool in his kitchen. Your eyes widen when you’ve snapped back to reality.

Before he can do anything, the sound of the front door unlocking stops him and he’s stepping away to tidy up his mess as if nothing happened. Eric comes in to greet you happily and life continues on just as it had prior to Sunwoo leaning into your personal space. He acts like it never occurred, laughing along at a stupid joke your brother made.

And for some reason, you thought he would keep pretending nothing happened. What a rude awakening you were in for.

It’s a couple days into your trip and you were sitting on a lounge chair poolside, while Eric and Haknyeon had gone to get drinks. Sunwoo placed himself in the seat next to you, his sculpted chest and torso gleaming in all their tanned glory.

He knew it was wrong of him to pine after his best friend’s sister, but how could he not? There was something about your maturity that drove him crazy. But even if you ignored that, anyone who could see would find you stunningly gorgeous. The sight of you scantily clad in a bikini was enough to make the strongest men weak.

Perhaps it was also the thrill that you were nearly a decade older than him.

At this point, you weren’t sure if the warmth engulfing your body was from the sun or the brunette’s intense gaze, but you want to push your luck, the incident at the apartment still fresh on your mind.

“Sunwoo? Do you mind putting some sunscreen on my back for me?” You ask innocently, grasping the base of the tube firmly. His tongue darts out and swipes across his lips.

She knows what she’s doing, he thinks to himself.

“Yeah, s’no problem,” he responds cooly, standing from his chair to sit behind you on yours.

You’re borderline on his lap, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck. Just to fuck with him some more, you reach behind yourself to untie your swim suit top.

You’ve been on this playing field long enough to know when a man wants you, but you’ve never been an easy target. It was like a game of cat and mouse for you. Right when they think they’ve got you, you always seem to be three steps ahead.

This little chase that you were leading Sunwoo on wasn’t any different.

His fingers dance dangerously low on your back, working the lotion into your skin wonderfully. As you’ve gotten older, your body has undoubtedly changed. The fat of your thighs was far more than it was when you were in your early twenties/late teens. Your stomach was lined with stretch marks, no two the same. But even so, you remained ever confident. You wouldn’t put up with anyone who wouldn’t agree that your so-called ‘imperfections’ were beautiful.

After a few minutes, once the trap had been set, you tied your bathing suit back. The ghost of his skilled fingers lingered as you stood from the lounge chair, spotting your brother and Haknyeon walking back.

The brunette had never been denied before. He got what he wanted without fail, and he’d be damned if this was the one outlier. He’d just have to prove to you that even though he was younger, he was more of a man than any you’d ever been with. And that was a promise.

Later that evening, the four of you had gone to your respective rooms to shower and get ready for dinner. Luckily, Eric had used his brain for something good and reserved separate hotel rooms for each of you. ‘Just in case,’ he’d said.

You did the finishing touches of your makeup and checked your phone, finding a text from your brother.

[8:07] eric: we’re all in the lobby

[8:07] eric: just waiting on u

[8:07] eric: but take ur time dear sister pls don’t rush on our account

[8:08] eric: it’s not like we have an uber waiting for us or anything

[8:08] eric: note the sarcasm btw

You roll your eyes as you grab your purse, tossing the device inside. Who was he to talk about how long it took you to get ready? You were in your thirties and you were not about to be bossed around by your little brother. Back when he was still in high school, you were the one telling him to speed up his morning process.

Your dad had gotten a job halfway across the country right before his second year and it crushed him. You remember how upset he was when they broke the news, the thought of packing up his entire life and leaving all of his friends stung. So instead, you got a well paying job and bought a two bedroom apartment for the both of you, that way he could stay and finish out the rest of high school. You made some sacrifices, sure, but you were practically done experimenting in your life. You were in your late twenties by this point, what more was there to do? You’d already graduated from university so helping out your brother was doing everyone a favor.

After living together for nearly three years, you and Eric had grown a lot closer. With such an age difference, it’d been difficult to relate to one another and bond over certain things. When he’d discovered a new phase to go through, you had moved past it years prior. You were always just out of reach from each other until then. It was like the universe itself was trying to bring you together.

Even now, both of you much older, he still calls and asks to come over to your place so he can hang out. You meant just as much to him as he did to you.

The elevator dings, opening so you can stroll towards the group of young men waiting for you. Right when they caught sight of you, you started making your way to the Uber parked under the carport outside of the hotel.

The drive to the restaurant was silent, but you could feel an intense gaze on your form. Purposefully, you’d worn your most revealing outfit. A nice tight dress to hug your matured body and some skinny heels to elongate your legs. You were thankful that your brother wasn’t the type to be overly protective, well aware that his older sister could carry her own by now. However, you think even Haknyeon had started to pick up on your actions and the unspoken tension between you and Sunwoo.

You arrived at your location for the evening, stepping out of the car gracefully. You received multiple stares from other patrons and even a few employees. You weren’t sure if it was because you were just that drop dead gorgeous, or if it was another reason entirely. Maybe they were wondering what three men who looked as young as they did, were doing with an older woman such as yourself.

You don’t have to dwell on it for too long, a host showing the four of you to a booth almost immediately. Shout out to Eric and Sunwoo for having connections.

The seating arrangement ends up with you and Sunwoo on one side, Haknyeon and Eric on the other. You had a feeling this was not a good idea. They’d dropped you right where he wanted.

When the waitress comes to take your drink order, you feel the toasty warmth of a hand on your thigh, nearly tripping you up as you point out a margarita on the rocks from the menu. After she jots everything down, she taps her pen against the tablet. She then gestures between your party.

“Are any of you dating?” she asks curiously, eyeing you with a quirk to her brow. To anyone else, it’s a normal question. Eric, Haknyeon, and Sunwoo were indeed good looking guys. (One of them was your brother, of course he was attractive— where do you think he got it from?) But you could see right through her fake act. She had to have recognized the three baseball players.

“Haha, no actually. She’s my sister.” Eric chuckles, pointing at you with his thumb. She narrows her eyes momentarily before covering it up with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Ah, tú hermana.” She tries to laugh off, but when the boys furrow their eyebrows, she realizes it fell upon deaf ears. You fight the urge to burst into laughter at how stupid they were.

“She said ‘your sister’ in Spanish. Idiots, I swear.” You explain to the still confused table. They let out a chorus of ‘ohhhh’s in response. Learning Spanish was something you’re glad you did, seeing as you sometimes needed to translate during your trip. You would definitely hold it over them when you got back.

The waitress seems to notice how close you and Sunwoo are sitting, but doesn’t call you out on it. While the other two are oblivious to her fixation, the brunette catches on quickly, squeezing the inside of your thigh as she continues her silly little version of twenty questions.

“Cuantos años tienes?” She asks you personally, realizing that you can understand her. What ever happened to girls supporting girls?

“How old are you?”

“En mis treinta.” You answer without hesitation, not exactly telling her for the sake of your own satisfaction. The press of Sunwoo’s fingers trails upward, causing you to shift uncomfortably.

“In my thirties.”

You can sense that she wants to say something snarky to you, her opposition to your age clear as glass, but she chooses not to. Whether that’s because she wants to seem like a good person in front of the boys or otherwise, you couldn’t care less. As long as you hadn’t been disrespected. And you knew if you were, Eric and the guys would jump to defend you with all their beings.

After what feels like a millennium, she finally leaves you alone, even going to the extent of switching tables with another waitress. Was that even allowed? You’re not entirely sure, but at least you didn’t have to deal with someone rude.

The majority of the dinner goes smoothly, the drinks and the food tasting unlike anything you’d ever had. Haknyeon couldn’t stop raving about the different flavors he was experiencing. At some point you think he told the waitress to send his thanks to the chef, in true Haknyeon fashion. That was the majority. The rest of the dinner was spent in absolute agony.

A certain baseball player couldn’t keep his hands to himself, eating with one and teasing you with the other. How no one paid any attention to what was happening right in front of them was beyond you. You’d even accidentally whimpered, covering it up by pretending the food was just that good.

The check couldn’t come fast enough, your body betraying you and anticipating getting back to the hotel. Your brother had different plans, claiming that the night was still young and he wanted to have drinks somewhere else. Your disappointment must’ve been obvious, because Sunwoo comes to your rescue.

“Eric, I think your sister’s ready to hit the hay.” He pats the brunette’s shoulder, one hand on his hip.

“Oh we can head back then—“ You interrupt him.

“No no, it’s fine, Eric, I'll be okay on my own. You guys have fun, don’t let me stop you.” You dismiss him. You could get rid of your problem yourself this way. No one to bother—

“I’ll go with you. Someone’s gotta make sure you get to your room safely, N/N. Besides, I'm beat. The sun’s starting to catch up to me.” Sunwoo grins, ruffling your hair. You glare at him, your irritation coming to light for the first time since you’d landed in the country. You’d done so well at acting like he wasn’t affecting you.

“Alright sick! Thanks, Sunwoo! Hak and I will see you tomorrow I guess,” Eric says. He turns to you, hugging your side. “I'll check to see if you’re still awake later.”

And that was that. You and your brother went your separate ways, ordering two Ubers for the pairs you were in.

It took all of about seconds following the ding of the elevator reaching your floor, for Sunwoo’s lips to meet yours. You jump, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, his large palms supporting you from your ass. It was so attractive that he could hold you like this— showing off the muscles he’s built from all his years of playing baseball, a far cry from that scrawny kid you knew when he was younger

He fumbles with his keycard, waving it frantically in front of the sensor. There’s a flash of green and he pushes the door open wide enough to fit the two of you through its threshold. Never once do your mouths disconnect, kissing each other so feverishly it raises the temperature of the room. He kicks the door closed behind him with his foot, pressing you up against the floor to ceiling mirror-wall beside the bathroom. The heat radiating off of your body fogs up the outline of your figure.

Sunwoo can’t seem to get enough of you, groping and grabbing any part of you that he can. You have to admit, you’ve never felt so needed— so wanted— in your life. In the messiness of teeth clashing and tongues tangling, your desperation begins to run rampant. You whine as he tugs at your bottom lip.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, N/N,” his voice is husky and breathy, his soft pants filling your ears. He pecks your bare shoulder affectionately, cupping your right breast in his hand. “How long I’ve been waiting for you to take me seriously… to let me treat you like a real man should.”

His knee nudges itself between your legs, creating some much appreciated friction momentarily, his erection prominent against your thigh.

“I know that you know what you're doing when you dress like this. All slutty and revealing, showing yourself off to everyone,” his mouth hovers over the skin of your neck, goosebumps littering the surface. “But really, you do it for me, huh? You do it on purpose ‘cause you know how crazy it makes me. You know exactly what I’ve been wanting since we got here. That’s my smart girl.”

You can’t help the small moan that erupts from the back of your throat, his words and the wet feeling of his tongue circling the area he had just been sucking on going straight to the excitement pooling in your belly. He smiles mischievously, thumb running over your clothed nipple.

You’d been so lost in pleasure that you hadn’t even realized he’d moved you to the bed, your back on the fluffy white comforter and your thighs spread apart for him. He takes a hold of the back of his collar and removes his shirt in one swift motion, pushing your dress upward afterwards to assist you in discarding it.

His eyes rake your now half-naked body, the fullness of your tits nearly spilling out from the lacy nude strapless bra you were wearing. He drags a finger along your lace covered slit, his lips curling when he watches you shudder underneath his touch.

“Sunwoo, please…”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for, just that you need it. And you need it badly.

“Please, what?” He tsks, now massaging your inner thighs, working you up just like he wants. You pout, hoping to convey the message without pleading. Embarrassment floods your body when you realize he’s not gonna make it easy for you. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

You shut your eyes, hoping to will away the sheer mortification flushing your entire being. “P-please touch me.”

This fuels his ego even further. As if it could get any bigger.

“Open your pretty eyes, baby,” he coos, leaning forward to kiss you. When you obey his request, he hooks his long fingers into the waistband of your panties. “There we go. See, good girls get what they ask for.”

He slides them off, parting your legs immediately. The cool air makes you flinch. The one article of clothing that kept you unexposed was gone now, along with the confident woman from earlier in the day.

He repeats his actions from minutes ago, his pointer finger collecting your slick as it slides through your folds with ease. The squelching sound it makes is horrifying, your shame settling back into place. He kisses the plane of your stomach gently, murmuring into the skin.

“Do you hear that, sweetheart? Do you hear how excited you are for me? There’s no point in trying to hide it anymore.”

Your eyes widen at his words, opening your mouth to say something in retaliation but he takes this opportunity to bury two fingers inside of you. A gasp leaves your throat consequently, your back arching on instinct. It had been a while since a man had set aside time for foreplay. He truly was making good on his word, treating you like a real man should.

He lowers himself, positioning his face in front of your pussy and darts his tongue across his lips before flattening it against your clit. The sensation makes you shiver, though that reaction is nothing compared to what happens next. He curls his fingers inside of you, brushing that certain spongy spot that drives you insane, then begins alternating between kitten licking and sucking on the engorged skin of your clit.

You cry out, hands flying down to tug at his hair and dig your nails into his scalp. He doesn’t appear to mind at all, more like he enjoys it, reveling in the way you’re losing yourself to him slowly but surely. It's a dream come true for him. He's finally getting the opportunity to completely ruin you after waiting for-what-felt-like-ever. Horny, teenage Sunwoo would be jumping for joy over this.

He remembers the first time he met you. Eric had invited him, Haknyeon, and other members of the team over to your shared apartment for a team bonding during their second year. The only thought in his mind upon seeing you was ‘damn, I love older women.’ You were just so sure of yourself, he couldn’t help the tightness in his pants and the thumping in his chest.

And those feelings never seemed to fade.

In fact, it appeared that they grew with time. He’d dated other girls since then, especially because he was so popular in high school and in university. Yet for some reason he could never quite pinpoint, things never worked out. They just didn’t feel like the one for him, so he’d end the relationship before anyone got hurt more than they had to. Then the yearly trip would happen and Eric would update him on your life and his crush on you would come rushing back to him.

Even when you’d gotten engaged a few years ago, nothing could stop the way his heart beat only for you and you alone. He didn’t really like the dude all that much, but expressed support for you anyway because he wanted you to be happy. After Eric told him that he broke off the engagement to pursue someone else, Sunwoo just about lost it. He wanted to hunt the guy down himself. He couldn’t fathom how one could just throw away the once in a lifetime opportunity of calling you his. You deserved the world and so much more.

Everything resurfaces and it’s evident in the way his fingers dive even deeper inside of you, his appendage lapping mercilessly at your aching clit. You don’t question him even if you wanted to, your entire body feeling like it’s on cloud 9. He takes a break from licking and sucks at the sweet spot harshly, ripping out a prolonged moan from your lips.

Your release is in your field of vision now, so close that you can nearly taste it. You attempt to buck your hips up into his mouth to chase what you’re yearning for. He senses exactly what’s happening, so he slows his assault, much to your aggravation. You can’t even help the pleas that tumble from the back of your throat.

“No no no no, please,” you sit up, your hands still intertwined with his messy brown locks. “Sun, please… why’d you stop?”

His smile is almost conniving, you swear you can see his canines peeking through. He hovers above you, caging you between his torso and the bed. “You've been having all the fun, so now I think it’s time I have some, too.”

You’re about to ask what he means, when he steps back to undo his belt and zipper, pushing down his pants in record speed. Even through the black material of his (expensive looking) briefs, you can tell he’s well endowed. You rub your legs together, still sensitive from being deprived of your orgasm, and your hunger for all of him increases immensely.

“Eager, are we?” He chuckles, switching places with you. He sits at the edge of the bed, his legs open enough for you to fit between them. You bite your bottom lip, gripping each of his muscular thighs. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing to get crushed by them. It sure would be a hell of a way to die.

He leans back onto his palms, bunching up the sheets in his fists. You move forward to press your mouths in a searing kiss, cupping his clothed erection in your hand. He groans as his teeth nearly gnash with yours. You seize the chance to discard his underwear and massage his cock. The warmth and length of it makes your mouth water, almost whimpering at how flushed it is. You can tell that he’s painfully hard in the way he’s extremely responsive to all of your touches. You swipe your thumb over his slit, collecting the pre cum that’s formed there.

After deciding that enough is enough, he parts from you in favor of ordering you to get on your knees. You maintain eye contact as you wrap your lips around him, the nerves you’d been feeling all night finally washing off. Your tongue swirls around the tip a few times before it licks a broad line from the base back up along the underside. You take him down your throat this time, massaging his balls as you do so. Your cheeks hollow out as you bob your head, your hands jerking what you can’t fit.

An erratic knock at the door startles both of you and you’re about to remove yourself from him, but he keeps you there with a large hand, urging you to continue. You listen reluctantly, assuming the person would just go away if you ignored them.

However, the knock comes again moments later. Sunwoo looks down at you. His eyes tell you all you need to know, so you don’t stop.

“Sunwoo! Hey, have you seen my sister? She’s not in her room.”

You practically choke on him at the sound of your brother’s voice, but he still doesn’t let you pause. His attention doesn’t leave you as he replies.

“Uh yeah, she’s borrowing my shower. Hers wasn’t working.” He lies. His eyes bore into yours intensely, the knowledge that he had Eric’s hot older sister right here in front of him on her knees shrouding his mind.

The brunette outside seems to find that answer sufficient enough and doesn’t interrogate further. “Okay, cool. Just tell her to text me when she gets back to her room.”

“You got it.”

His footsteps can be heard padding against the carpet of the hallway as he walks away.

Your nose brushes against the hair at the base of his cock before he cups your cheeks and lifts your mouth off of him. You take in a deep breath, keeping your hands on his dick firmly. As you regain your breathing, you leave kisses all over, starting at the tip and ending down the shaft. You feel him shudder beneath you, a satisfaction coming from knowing that you’re the one who has him so weak.

You had Kim Sunwoo wrapped around your pretty little finger.

Unbeknownst to you, that’d always been the case. Since day one. But it didn’t matter at the moment. All that either of you cared about right now was wrecking each other.

He slides his cock down your throat again, loving the sight of you getting face fucked by him. You moan around him, the vibrations causing him to grasp at your hair tightly, though you don’t mind the sting either.

“You look so gorgeous like this, sweetheart. Your lips look so pretty wrapped around me. Can’t wait until I’m inside you,” he hisses when your tongue runs over his slit. “You want me to fuck you into the mattress? Until you can’t even remember your own name?”

You release him from your lips once more, nodding frantically. It’s almost pathetic how needy you are for him, your brother’s best friend, someone nearly ten years younger than yourself. “Yes, please, Sunwoo. I want you so bad. I want you to fuck me so hard, I can’t walk properly.”

His smirk from your pleads is ungodly. He swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, pinching it between his fingers before he pulls you up to kiss you roughly. Even though he has this big dominant act up on display, you know he wants you just as much. And he conveys it in the desperate way he moves his mouth against yours with such fervor.

After a few minutes, both of you get sick of wasting time and he flips you around so you’re on your back. He nips at your neck, whispering dirtily as he pumps himself in his hands.

“The only thing I want on your mind is me, you got that?” He lines his dick up with your hole, nibbling on your earlobe while he does so. “The name Kim Sunwoo is gonna be engraved in your fucking brain after tonight.”

Without any semblance of a warning, he pushes himself in, giving you no time for adjustment. His cock fills you up nicely, better than you’ve ever been before, and the feeling alone rips a particularly loud moan out of you. “Oh my god, Sun. Y-you're so big and your cock f-feels so g-good. So s-so good.”

“You’re so tight, your pussy is squeezing me. You gonna cream on my dick?”

He gives you another one of those sly grins, where it’s almost like he’s baring his canines to you, and you swear you’ve never wanted to be ruined as much as you do now.

His pace is unrelenting, nothing but sheer power going into every thrust of his hips. His cock hits places deep inside that you didn’t know existed. It amazes you how much stamina he has and it doesn’t appear like he’s letting up any time soon.

“Sunwoo, just like that— f-fuck yes— right there,”

“Look at you, Y/N, so fucking messy and all because of me.”

He hooks one of your knees on his shoulder, plunging even further into your pussy. The mewl you release is voluminous, enough to wake up anyone in the rooms surrounding his. One of his hands holds your leg in place while the other travels south, gripping your side and using his thumb to vigorously circle your clit.

The added stimulation is just what you need to nudge you closer to your tipping point, what you were deprived of earlier. He, of course, notices that and stops his attack with his finger. You whine in protest, not wanting to deal with his teasing again right now.

You open your mouth to express your distaste at the same moment he rolls his hips experimentally. So instead of complaining about his edging, you let out a choked groan.

“Sunwoo, please, let me cum. Please, I'm begging. I need to.” You hate that you’re in this position, but you can’t hold out much longer. Fatigue is catching up to you and if you don’t cum soon, you might pass out.

“You wanna cum, baby? You want me to let you cum?” He all but growls in your ear. You moan wantonly in response, quickly becoming a babbling mess. “I think you can wait a bit longer. Take it like a big girl, yeah?”

Your other leg wraps around his waist, allowing his already buried cock to kiss at your cervix. The new angle is unhinged, short circuiting your brain. Discarding any thought behind your actions, moving on autopilot, you pull him down to press your mouths together.

The combination of passion and pure lust drives both of you wild, fueling your desires. His lips part from yours and he moans breathily as you clench down on him, the exhale fanning over the lower part of your face. The sound is unlike anything you’ve heard before and you’d do just about anything to hear it again. The brunette was completely unaware of the effects he had on you, something as simple as a noise kicking you into high gear.

But it seems even he’s reaching his limits, not able to hold himself back anymore. In an attempt to finish you both off quickly, he brutalizes each piston of his pelvis. Your nails sink into his shoulders.

“F-fuck— S-Sunwoo I’m gonna— I’m gonna cum— so fucking—“

His thumb finds its way back to your clit and resumes its previous attack, the other circling around a peaked nipple, cutting you off. You arch into him, trying to bring the two of you impossibly closer. His cock rams in and out of you almost inhumanely at the rate he was going. With one particularly harsh thrust, he commands,

“Cum for me, sweetheart.”

The words send you overboard and you release around him, simultaneously gripping him like a vice and moaning so pornographically, you kind of feel bad for everyone else staying on this floor. Your whole body spasms with your orgasm, hushed moans falling from your swollen lips. Seconds later the twitch of his dick alerts you as he follows, filling you up with the warmth of his own cum. Had he not still been inside you, you were certain it’d flow right out, something akin to Niagara Falls. But you’re both too busy trying to catch your breaths to really pay attention to any of that extra stuff.

The ache was settling in your bones instantaneously, and you half-regretted encouraging him to ‘fuck you so hard you couldn’t walk properly’.

After what feels like an eternity, he slowly pulls out his softening cock, your pussy clenching at nothing and feeling empty as he presses a soft peck on the tip of your nose, his dominant personality dissipating along with it.

The moment feels strangely domestic, his coos of praise and the worry that he was too rough with you not flying over your head. Things like ‘you did so well, sweetheart’, ‘I’m so proud of you, baby’, and ‘your pussy was made for my cock’ floated around the air. He caressed your belly with one hand and your hair with the other before pulling himself away from you fully.

“Let me go get you a towel,” he smiles warmly, disappearing into the bathroom he told your brother you were borrowing. When he comes back, he has a fresh pair of briefs on and a damp washcloth on his forearm. “You know, I‘ve had the biggest crush on you since high school. The moment Eric introduced us, I practically fell in love.”

He carefully cleans up your cum covered thighs, weary of how sensitive you are. It dawns on him that you’re fighting back your sleep, but he also realizes that you can’t stay in his room, running the risk of being compromised and Eric finding out. He helps you into a sitting position and leads you to the bath.

He washes your hair and body for you, increasing the overwhelming amount of domesticity that you already started to feel. Even with his admission, you didn’t want to assume that this was something he really wanted. You’d made that mistake before, with your asshole of an ex fiancé, and you couldn’t stomach the thought of that happening with him. He was a young, hot professional baseball player. Why would he want to be tied down to you?

With a towel wrapped tightly around your body and your clothes draped over a shoulder, he aids you in your sneaky trip to your own hotel room. You fumble a bit with the key card, nervous under his gaze for some reason. When you finally get it open, you hurriedly enter, desperate to get away from him to avoid small talk. You were a grown ass woman and here you were, acting like a petulant child.

He reaches for your wrist and stops you prior to getting too far past the door frame. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter? Why won't you look at me? Did— did I do something wrong?”

“N-no! You didn’t. I just— I don't wanna misinterpret the situation...” You betray yourself and look him in the eyes, nearly melting at the soft chocolate color staring right back. He leans forward to kiss you on the lips. It isn’t rushed or forceful like any of the others from earlier in the night. It’s more like the loving one he placed on your nose. It conveys exactly what he wants to say, but can’t put into words, and rids of your doubts all at once. You instinctively shut your eyes, a smile working its way across your face.

“I’ll see you in the morning, sweetheart. Goodnight,” is what he leaves you with, scampering off to his room.

You bring your fingers up to your lips, the stupid grin not disappearing. He wasn’t kidding when he said the name Kim Sunwoo would be engraved in your brain tonight.

The next day, the four of you visit one of the beaches. You chuckle to yourself as you observe Eric and Haknyeon attempting to skimboard, but failing miserably. Your brother flies forward when his board skids to a stop and he stumbles a bit before regaining his bearings. The older laughs at him, hunching over and clutching his stomach as he does so.

Your eyes stay on them for a bit, but your head turns at the sound of footsteps approaching you and the beach towel you were sitting on. You finally glance over when a grunt fills your ears over the crashing waves. Sunwoo leans back onto his palms, sunglasses perched on top of his head. The goods you wanted were set between you, a bag nearly full to the brim with mandarin oranges.

On your way to the beach, you passed a vendor on the street selling different fruits. Among said fruits were the mandarins that caught your attention. You pouted when you realized you left your purse at the hotel, only having your I.D. on you. Being absolutely smitten with you and having no self control, Sunwoo made a promise to himself to come back when you were least expecting to buy you as many as he physically could. (Gift giving was one of his love languages.)

He smiles as your eyes light up like a Christmas tree in August, instinctively reaching for one of the oranges. You bring it up to your nose to smell the faint citrusy scent of the rind, humming contentedly afterwards. With the summer breeze blowing through your hair, the humidity painting your cheeks rosy and the sun behind you giving you a halo-like glow, you look like a scene ripped straight from a movie. Sunwoo feels like the most fortunate guy in the world knowing that he’s the only person who gets to see you like this, committing the visual to memory so he can look back on it whenever he pleases.

He decides that he could die right here right now, and he’d be satisfied with his life. He can already see it, his headstone; Rest in Peace Kim Sunwoo, 2000-2023.

You slowly start to peel the mandarin, each corner of your lips curled upwards. You pop a piece into your mouth, closing your eyes and savoring the taste of its nectar. Without pausing to think about it, you scoot closer to Sunwoo, feeding him some of the orange. A small giggle escapes the back of your throat when he smiles again, this time at how much more comfortable you are with him. (And also how yummy the mandarin is.)

“It almost tastes as sweet as you.”

He meant for it to be an innocent insinuation, but completely forgot about the fact that it could be misconceived as an innuendo. You slap his shoulder with a gasp because that’s exactly how you took it, and he raises his hands in surrender.

“Woah, I was trying to be cute. You’re the one with the dirty mind.”

You roll your eyes, shoving a few more pieces of mandarin into his mouth to shut him up. “Kim Sunwoo, you’re lucky I like you.”

His cheeks are puffed up with the fruit and he tries to smile at you, his pouty lips making him look a little silly. You press a quick kiss to them, forgetting that you were very much in public. He turns to you with eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

“What if Eric sees?” He swallows thickly.

You shake your head. “Let him. I’m happy. That’s all he really cares about.”

It befuddles you that just a week ago, you never would’ve thought this could happen. A week ago, Sunwoo was still that high school boy who stuttered whenever he spoke to you and came over to yours and Eric’s apartment every day after school. A week ago, you were still apprehensive about putting yourself out there, out of fear that you’d just get hurt again. But somehow, Sunwoo managed to change your entire perspective. And sitting here on this beach towel, feeding him mandarins and giggling at his jokes solidifies that for you.

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[redundantharpoons]

Browsing the Hacks tags and seeing people accusing Hacks of being or maybe being queer baiting blows my mind; and on the one hand people just be sayin all kinds of things, but at the same time it really does speak to how far queer rep in media has come (not that it’s perfect!)

Queerbaiting in 2024 is a show with canon on screen M/M romance, F/F romance, legit discussion of bi erasure, lesbian cruises, drag shows, Pride celebrations, etc???

Meanwhile my ancient 36 year old ass was s c r e a m i n g when gabs and xena did the water transfer

[thatone-brightstar]

Amy's kinktober alphabet blurbs w/ special guest Carmy Berzatto! (6/6)

a/n: first of all, happy international chef's day! second, i got my internet conection back and that's worth celebrating with the last part of this hot as hell seriessss. you can totally tell i love carmy in uniform lmao

Don't forget to like and repost or comment with the one you like the most bc we will be getting a full length one shot of the winner! PS. lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Warnings: Minors DNI, p in v unprotected sex, creampie, choking, semi public, oral sex (both f and m receiving), knifeplay, spit kink, knife play, fingering,

V is for: Visuals.

‘-the time difference is kicking my ass.’ He heard your tired whisper through the speaker and sighed along with you while taking a drag from his cig. ‘I really miss you…’ You confessed even more softly, pulling a smile over his own tired face.

‘I really miss you too.’ He mumbled back and despite being completely alone, his face still flared up at the confession.

You hummed along with his response, then after a few silent seconds you asked: ‘what do you miss about me?’

Carmy chuckled nervously and ran his hand down his face, falling back against the kitchen counter..

‘I miss… your pretty face’ He began and closed his eyes to picture you on the other side of the phone; probably in your pajamas, biting on your bottom lip and trying to avoid the goofy smile his response caused. ‘I miss kissing you…’

‘Hmm… what else?’ You breathed out that made him swallow hard and stir his hips.

He couldn’t think of what else to say, he was shit at normal conversation and now the idea of phone sex had erased the words from his brain.

You were quiet on the other line for a while and he was almost sure you had fallen asleep, until he heard movement and a heavy sigh. 

Then his phone vibrated near his cheek and your voice whispered sweetly. ‘Does that help?’

His heart stopped at the sight of your full breasts on display and the rest of your body barely covered by the hotel robe, then his blood traveled south to the forming tent in his pants. 

‘What else do you miss, Carmy?’ 

W is for: Whites.

‘Ready to go?’ You called, walking in from the back door and immediately stopping in your tracks.

Carmen stood leaning tiredly against the marble bar, hair disheveled and chef white sleeves rolled up to his forearms, letting the designs on his skin peek from under. Despite the fatigue evident on his face, he still offered a loving smile towards you.

‘’M just checkin’ produce for tomorrow. Ten more minutes?’ He asked and reached a strong hand in your direction.

All you could do was nod and swallow the sudden dryness that invaded your mouth at the sight of him. He gave you a quick kiss and moved back to the scribbled pages.

You hopped on the empty space beside him and took a quick look around the empty room, then bit your lip and stared back at him through doe eyes. You’d seen him many times before in his chef whites, but something about the concentration in his eyes and the flexing of muscle under the material had you completely soaked, and the thin material of your skirt wasn’t helping.

He felt your intense gaze and flickered his eyes around your face, landing on your lips. ‘What?’ He asked.

You bit your lip and watched him swallow hard, taking the bait. ‘You look really fuckin’ hot right now…’

Carmy chuckled softly and shook his head. ‘What’s doin’ it for ya? The smell of onions or the Hollandaise stains?’

Your fingers wrapped around the edge of the still pristine uniform and pulled timidly, eyes heavy on his.

‘...really?’ He asked again in disbelief and planted a hand near your naked thigh, leaning towards you.

You shrugged and parted your thighs where his hips fit perfectly, then threaded your fingers through his hair and watched him close his eyes, slightly groaning. ‘I like a man in uniform…’

X is for: ‘X marks the spot’

With your hands resting under your cheek and your chest flat on the bed, you could feel the line of goosebumps follow the soft graze of Carmen’s lips. They had started at your shoulder blades- pulling soft breathy giggles from your flushing chest- then down your spine, where they met his strong hands holding your waist.

‘Is it there?’ He asked for the fifth time, though you wondered if he was enjoying the search more than actually trying to find your sweet spot.

A soft whine came out when one hand curved past your hip, in between the valley of your ass and to the spot he knew would certainly bring you bliss.

‘No cheating…’ You mumbled back between a moan and the disheveled sheets, making him chuckle again.

You felt his hand move back to your hip bone and his body hover over yours before the warmth of his chest pressed against your back. Dexterous fingers ran through your scalp and the sultry kiss he placed at the base of your neck was enough for your nerves to spark alight and your hips to push back against him.

‘Found it…’ He joked, warm breath caressed your ear and another kiss had your eyes rolling back.

Y is for: ‘Yes, Chef’

‘Say it again-’ He instructed through a heavy breath and a jerk of his hips that had the words turning into a scrambled groan. 

You clawed against the cold counter hoping to find something to hold on to because fuck, he was making you feel so good you thought you might float away. Carmy raked his nails through your messy hair and pulled you up with a firm but gentle grip. 

‘C’mon pretty girl- you were so fuckin’ bold hours ago, what happened?’ You could hear the satisfaction in his words.

He stopped his thrusts long enough to give your lungs a needed breath, only to pull your knee up on the counter and bury into you at a deeper angle. The new sensation pulled a squeal from your throat and your head fell back against his strong shoulders.

‘You still gonna talk back in front of everybody?’ He sneered again and wrapped another hand over your swollen cunt. 

All you could do was shake your head.

‘You gonna be good from now on?’ Carmen asked while his fingers began circular motions.

‘Yes…’ You moaned a little too loud and his fingers sped up.

‘Yes what?’ He asked again and softly pressed the sides of your neck until your eyes rolled back and your breasts raised with your struggling pants. 

Z is for: Zesty.

With Carmy, it was always like the first time. There was never a moment where he was too tired, or too busy, or too in his head that having you bouncing on his cock couldn’t fix. The simple idea that you were his filled him with a new fervor, a fresh wave of energy that had his hands groping at your ass and pulling you up as he stood from the old chair. 

You squealed in surprise and circled your thighs tightly around his hips, then heard the sound of everything on the desk falling heavily on the ground before the cold wood touched your skin. His lips latched onto yours as he continued his frantic movements, on hand on your head to avoid you bumping against the top shelf while the other rested on your cheek.

When he pulled away, his eyes were wild and glossy, even in the dim light you could spot the silhouette of your flushed face.

‘Tell me you’re mine.’ He muttered between peppered kisses that made you heave and smile.  

‘I’m a-all yours baby-’ Carmy’s smile grew at your immediate answer, thrusting even deeper into the spot that caused lightning bolts to course through your spine.

‘All mine…’ He muttered as he settled your back over the desk and pushed your legs up to your chest. ‘All mine.’

____________

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne , @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha , @yum-yahgurt , @pussy-f41ry , @kirakombat , @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 , @feyhunter78

[ivymarquis]

An Honest Woman

Pairing| Gaz x F!Reader, Soap x F!Reader, Ghost x F!Reader, Price x F!Reader, All x Reader Rating| M Word Count| ~700 Kinks/Content/Warnings| The author wants to write a gangbang fic but suffers from “I have to explain why they’re fucking”-itis. Each guy will get his own chapter and then an epilogue with the gangbang. This is the prequel/set up to the premise. (Just the 141 guys Alejandro is not involved this is just the only gif I could find with all 4 of the 141 guys lmao) This is some toxic shenanigans on the reader’s part BUT no cheating on reader’s end ayo

“What would you do if you found out I cheated on you?” Her (unbeknownst to either of them) soon-to-be ex boyfriend asks.

She blinks, already deciding she doesn’t particularly like this question.

“I dunno. Probably fuck your chain of command.” If he is stupid enough to try and get his lick in, she’ll get hers back.

But he isn’t a stupid man, and she is content that this is just a random question in the same vein as her asking him if he’d love her if she was a worm.

It’s a smartass answer to what she foolishly assumes is a tongue-in-cheek question. Who the fuck asks something like that and is serious about it?

Much like she doesn’t like the question, he does not like the answer.

Rather than rolling with it like she did, his reaction is immediate. “Is that really fucking necessary? Glad to know I’m with a class act.” The question snaps harshly at her.

Hm. Well, things have been too peaceful for too long lately, haven’t they? She supposes they’re overdue for a blow up.

There’s a part of her that realizes it’s not good that she’s so ambivalent about this. She should care, in some direction, that her boyfriend is blowing up at her. She should either be pissed beyond all belief that he’s mad about a situation he fabricated, or be sad that he’s mad at her. Something.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” is all she says before standing up. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed,” I’m not dealing with your shit tonight is the part she doesn’t say out loud.

“Fuck you, I don’t have to deal with this.” He snaps at her, jerking to his feet and hurrying out the door.

Why the fuck does she put up with him, again?

He’s been doing this shit a lot lately. Picking a fight, and blowing up; whether she rises to the bait or not. It’s like he’s desperate for any reason to justify walking out on her in the middle of the night.

The most telling part about their dynamic is that she doesn’t really even care.

She’s got her suspicions about what all he is up to when he storms out; once or twice, she believes him when he says he went drinking with his buddies. But when it becomes a several-times-a-week occurrence?

She sees the writing on the wall.

“It’s like you don’t even fucking care anymore!”

She doesn’t. Not really.

Her total ambivalence to anything he does is testimate enough to the fact that she’s done with the relationship.

She just needs to get her shit sorted so she can move out and state the obvious; tell him that she’s over it.

Maybe she’s being cold hearted, but she didn’t just wake up one day and decide she doesn’t love him anymore. It’s every little miscommunication and dissonance that neither of them took the time to mend. Eventually that shit piles up and one day she looks at him and doesn’t feel the affection that she used to. There’s no flutter in her stomach or heat in her groin. He’s just there.

Really she shouldn’t be surprised when a few days later she finds an open condom wrapper mixed in with the laundry. Which, considering she hasn’t slept with him in over a week, pretty much solidifies that he’s a cheating prick.

Okay. Fine. He can’t say she didn’t warn him.

It’s pride and ego and spite that makes her act out. She doesn’t have any attachment to him at this point but it’s the principle of the matter. He doesn’t get to act like this and expect to be free of repercussions.

And- well; if she’s being perfectly honest he’s a lackluster lay at best.

When she was in love and being wooed and he was coming home to her and sweet talking in her ear it didn’t particularly matter that he treated her like a living fleshlight. Relationships can take compromise and he’d been checking enough boxes she has been willing to acquise on the good sex one.

Now? There’s no affection to keep her warm at night and she is simmering with pent up energy.

A very simple I’m fucking done. We’re over text, paired with a picture of the wrapper, is frankly more than he deserves at this point, but even she’s got a line she won’t cross and cheating is firmly on the other side of it.

And she knows exactly who she’s going to start with to knock the rust off.