#whiskey and blazers

[freshfrenchangel]

An echo from the past reverberates through my mind.

New post on my Flickr(credits).

[vermilliongrey]

Yakuza party.

行くぜ !

[kitten4sannie]

backstage bukakke with ateez ♡

a/n: is anyone in need of post coachella performance brainrot?? :33 and if any of you were wondering,, no i’m not okay 🙂‍↔️🫶🏼 without further ado, here’s a LOT more backstage debauchery (like i went insane….i should be in a padded cell rn….) except this time san brought the whole crew to help drown you in cum <333 enjoy the meal my dears bc i can never show my face in public again after this 😭😭

w.c: 2.4k

warnings: alcohol use, subby fem manager! reader, free use, domteez, gangbang, who’s the biggest menace here? that’s for you to decide 🫵🏼, this is just complete filth btw,, dirty talk, degradation/praise, pet names/name calling, so much cum….., yungi confirm the big cock allegations, hongjoong might have a captain kink idk, double penetration, anal, implied sloppy seconds/thirds/fourths kskssb, brief tit play, brief oral, cum eating, size kink, bulge kink, breeding, creampies for days, a bukakke as promised <3

Once the members sent out their last waves and finger hearts to the adoring fans and locals in the vast festival crowd, they made their way back to their temporary dressing room to catch their breath and have a celebratory drink or two. Brimming with adrenaline and energy due to their momentous performance, they erupted in enthusiastic greetings as soon as their dear manager entered the room, a few of them draping their arms around your shoulders to give you a quick hug.

“Manager-nim, did you like the show?” San spoke up, bringing his glass up to his mouth, taking a small sip of the potent liquor.

“You know you can just call me by my name, San, and I thought you guys absolutely killed it, like always,” you replied, scanning their faces, lightly adjusting the hem of your work blazer. No matter how many times you had all of their eyes and attention on you, you couldn’t seem to get used to it. It always made you feel hot under the collar, not knowing what was going through each of their minds when they looked at you the way they did. With interest. Hunger.

San couldn’t help but smirk, his dimples visible. You had taken the bait. He watched Yunho serve you a glass of whiskey. “You’re right. We’re way past titles, aren’t we? Especially considering the way I had you bent over for me right after our set last weekend.”

You choked on the liquor, your body suddenly feeling hot, especially under the heated gaze of the men standing around you. “S-San, behave yourself.”

He lightly licked at his lips, his gaze sharpening, ready to add to the growing heaviness of the atmosphere in the room. “Don’t act so coy now, sweetheart. You know better than that, don’t you?”

You bit into your bottom lip, looking up to Yunho for help, only to find that he was giving you an increasingly perverse smile, like he was reminiscing about something filthy.

Yunho reached down to wrap a lock of your hair around his jewelry adorned finger, sighing, “We could all hear the way Sannie fucked your brains out, doll, but you wanted us to hear, didn’t you? Even though you’re our manager, you’re still our good little slut, yeah?”

Something clicked into place inside your brain like it usually did when they talked to you like this. You could finally stop being so uptight and in control, instead allowing the eager members to do as they pleased with you. “Yeah, I am,” you nodded shyly, your insides on fire.

San took a step towards you, reaching out to run his fingers along your collar bone. “Can I ask you something?”

Your breath caught inside your throat. You knew what he was going to ask. You knew what they wanted. Despite the professional relationship you had with the members, you always seemed to end up in increasingly unprofessional situations with them. You couldn’t help it, not when they always made you feel so good. Wanted. Craved. “Say it, San….”

His pointer finger drifted down your chest, along the seam of your blazer, gazing down at you. “Can we make you our whore, Manager-nim?”

The members exchanged pleased glances with one another, some of them pulling at the crotch of their tailored pants.

“As long as someone locks the door, okay?” you answered underneath your breath, your eyes beginning to glaze over with lust.

San simply took a step around you, running his hands up and down your shoulders, coaxing you out of your blazer and unzipping your work dress, presenting you to his beloved members like you were a treat — one they would savor together.

-

“Don’t pass out on us now, baby,” San’s husky voice attempted to reach you through the fog you were in, his fingers gently rubbing at the fresh load that had splattered onto your flushed cheek, sliding his digits into your panting mouth for you to clean. “How many was that, hm? How many cocks have been inside you so far? Can our slutty manager remember?”

You stopped counting long ago, too fucked out to think about whose cock had already rearranged your insides and who had stuffed your ass full. You couldn’t even remember who had fucked your face either, but your sore jaw was proof that it was most likely one of the more gifted members. “I-i don’t know how many, just want more,” you whined out, looking up at San past your wet lashes.

“Yeah, you always want more from us, don’t you, baby? Want us to go to our limit? Want us to give you our all, huh? Are you going to milk us all dry like a good slut?”

You could hardly listen to his breathy, self-serving monologue, not with the way Wooyoung was gripping your hips and shoving his thick cock into you with abandon, like you were his own personal sex doll. “Uh-huh, wanna be good for you all…”

“How precious,” San sighed under his breath, all while he jerked himself off, beads of pre-cum spilling out of the twitching tip, watching the way his closest friend pumped himself in and out of your clenching hole, noticing the way his hips began to stutter. “Then, be good and take Wooyoung’s load inside that tight little cunt of yours, just like you took our Captain’s and Seonghwa’s earlier, okay? Can you do that for us, baby? Can you be our pretty little cum dump?”

You couldn’t speak, simply responding by squirting all over Wooyoung’s thrusting cock, just about ready to fall over from the overwhelming pleasure, but unable to with the way Mingi was behind you, his heaving chest pressing into your back, his ringed fingers lazily groping at your sore tits, balls-deep in your tight ass.

“Pretty baby, our pretty girl,” Mingi praised in a gravelly voice, his lips against your ear, squeezing your tits just as his groans began to crescendo, driving himself into you a few more times before he held still, previous loads leaking out of your ass and down the sides of his veined cock to the base as he filled you up again. “Can you feel that, babydoll? Feel the way I’m stuffing you full of cum? It feels so good, you want to cry, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod drunkenly, tears pricking at the corners of your hazy eyes, your trembling thighs growing more and more numb.

“Look at her, guys, she’s cumming just from being bred,” Wooyoung panted out, his hands squeezing into your sides, holding you still on his pulsing cock, not attempting to pull out until he was sure your inner walls were coated with his cum, chuckling smugly along with his fellow members at the way you desperately drew in another shaky breath and simply whined instead of forming words. “Poor slut can’t even talk. Someone should shoot their load down her throat. Maybe it’ll help ground her.”

“Way ahead of you,” Yeosang softly interjected, giving you a princely smile as he walked up to where you were positioned on the lengthy couch. He ran his slender fingers through your hair, slowly angling your head back as he did, bringing his slicked-up cockhead to your parted lips. “Say ‘ahh’, darling.”

Just as you obeyed, you watched Yeosang’s pretty flushed face contort in pleasure, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his pulsing length, milking it for all it’s worth, rope after rope of hot cum shooting into the back of your throat, a few dribbles remaining on your tongue. You were so full of cum, all of your holes were used up, and yet you needed more. “Not enough…More, please. I’m being such a good girl, aren’t I?”

San’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip, sharing glances with the other members, squeezing around the base of his cock to keep himself from busting right then and there. “Guys, I think we broke our manager.”

“Isn’t that the point? Look at her. She loves it,” Wooyoung pointed out, motioning to your blissed-out face, before he finally pulled out of you, reaching down to spread open your used hole, pleased sighs echoing inside the room. “Look, Sannie, her cunt’s all messy now. Ran through. Just the way you like it, huh, you sick fuck? You want sloppy seconds?”

San nodded his head, salivating, practically in a trance.

“Then, hurry up and shove your cock inside her before my cum leaks out,” Wooyoung tsked, climbing off of the cum-stained couch and smacking his hand against San’s ass to get him to spring into action, which he did, laying down on his back and sliding you down onto his cock inch by inch, but not before he tapped his leaking cockhead over your swollen clit a few times for good measure.

San’s dimples accompanied his shit-eating grin as he bottomed out, slowly running one of his hands up your lower abdomen to feel the outline of his stiff cock. “It’s so big inside, isn’t it, Manager-nim? Am I stretching you out nice and wide?”

All you could do was whimper pathetically, because not only were you taking San’s curved cock inside your cunt, but meanwhile Mingi had been showing Yunho the way your hole had begun to gape after the rough treatment you had taken, especially from someone with his size, knowing it was best that he prepped you for his best friend, knowing the term ‘horse cock’ didn’t even begin to describe what Yunho had to offer you. “It’s all for you, bro. Come and get it,” Mingi mused huskily, getting out of Yunho’s way so that he could replace him, one hand on your ass to keep it spread open for everyone’s viewing pleasure, as your hole slowly swallowed up Yunho’s obscene girth.

San and Yunho seemed to be in the middle of an intense competition, considering the way they both would continually thrust into you harder, and faster, grabbing at your tits and hips for leverage to fuck into you even deeper than before, if that was possible. “I-it’s not a–fuck–race, guys,” you cried out, suddenly being pressed back into Yunho’s warm chest when San sat up on the couch and folded you up, jack-hammering himself into you, using you like a cocksleeve. 

“Yes, it is, and I’m gonna knock you up first, not this loser,” San grunted out in between shaky moans, smiling with his canines at you, then at Yunho past your shoulder, who responded by bucking his hips up into you so roughly, he had to wrap his arms around your middle to keep you in place. 

“I’m fucking her ass, dumbass, I can’t even knock her up if I wanted to,” Yunho replied breathlessly, shaking his head, giving San a playful smile, before pressing his lips to your earlobe. “And I want to, tiny. Wish I could.” 

“Not with that attitude,” San huffed, blowing his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, his vision beginning to blur with the sudden onset of pleasure surging through him. “I’m going to fucking–unnnh–fill up your slutty cunt with my cum, baby. Gonna make it so messy. And you’re, fuck, you’re so tight now. That’s our good cumslut.” 

“The perfect cumslut,” Hongjoong interrupted in a low voice, suddenly towering over you, holding his cock near your mouth, nodding approvingly when you began to suck and lick at the tip. “That’s right. You love Captain’s cock the most, don’t you, pretty girl?” 

Seonghwa pushed his way past the other thirsty members who were hovering around you like vultures, slipping his fingers into your hair and gently guiding you to his own cock, cooing at you approvingly when you let it hit the back of your throat. He smiled smugly at Hongjoong, who was now side-eyeing him. “Stay mad. It’s not my fault she has taste.” 

“You better watch it, Seonghwa.”

“You can watch our slut suck my cock.” 

Hongjoong grumbled to himself, reaching down to tug your head back just firmly enough to lead you back to his cock, before you took it upon yourself to sandwich their lengths together so that you could please them both at once. They stopped bickering and instead held onto each other, biting into their lips as their highs began to take over. 

It was then that San and Yunho emitted similar sounding guttural groans, fully sheathing themselves inside you, their fingers squeezing tightly into your hips from either side. 

“Cumming,” they both exhaled, resting their heads on either side of your shoulder, beads of sweat dripping down their jaws and along their straining necks. 

Just as hot cum poured into both of your used holes, Seonghwa and Hongjoong began to shudder and grunt out obscenities, aiming their milky streams towards your lolled-out tongue.

San suddenly waved for Jongho to come closer, pulling out just enough so that obscene globs of cum began to leak out of you, making you whine. “Here, cum inside her, JJong. I want my favorite maknae to finish our cumslut off.”

Jongho gingerly positioned himself near your gushing entrance and plugged you back up with his thick, throbbing cock, his strong thighs smacking into your delicate ones as he vigorously bounced you on his lap. “Want it?” he simply asked near your lips, making you blush.

“Please!”

Just as Jongho pounded his load and the others deep into your womb, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Mingi pushed their way closer to you, vigorously jerking themselves off in order to leave their own individual mark on you for the second or third time, extremely pleased with themselves once they covered their dear manager’s face and body in their cum. 

Once you all came down, you found that you couldn’t quite operate your body properly, not when your lower half was completely numb and throbbing with residual pleasure. San and Yunho took it upon themselves to cuddle you from either side, while Jongho gently rubbed your tummy in circles, wondering whose load would knock you up first. Only time would tell.

“How was that?” San asked softly near your ear. 

“We weren’t too rough with you, were we?” Yunho murmured, biting his lip. 

“How are you feeling, Manager-nim?” Jongho added gently, patting your tummy.

You sighed gently, reaching up to pat their heads, smiling at the men around you. And to think you actually got paid for this. You couldn’t have asked for a better job. “Guys…I’m fine, and for the record, it was so good, I don’t think I can ever go back to having normal sex again. I’m a bit concerned, actually.”

The rest of the members began to laugh, and you joined along, before clearing your throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortably sticky, looking down to see what you had all done to the poor couch. “Okay, so, who’s going to clean this mess up? And, it’s not going to be me. I can’t move my legs. I…think you guys actually broke me.”

San looked over to Wooyoung, who was already rolling his eyes, pointing dramatically at him. “I told you!”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[syoddeye]

finger

kate laswell x f!reader | ~3.6k words tags: alcohol, age gap (Kate is in her late 40s, Reader is in her 30s), cunnilingus, fingering, slight mommy kink, x2 'good girls', x1 'brat', porn with a dash of plot a/n: kate isn't married in this. reader has hair long enough for kate to grab. happy pride.

Forty swipes deep into dating app hell and down to the dregs of a beer, the bartender exchanges your glass for a tumbler. Face smushed into a palm, you stare incredulously at the liquor. You definitely didn’t order whiskey. Definitely can’t afford it. Even at a dive like this, your budget demands whatever’s on special, tonight being Rainier.

You’re quick to correct the bartender. No way you’re overdrafting again. “Hey–I didn’t order this.”

A knowing smile curves his mouth, and he jerks his head over a shoulder. “No, but she did.”

It’s a surprise your neck doesn’t snap when you look and a second that your jaw doesn’t hit the counter on its way to the floor. The she in question sits at the corner with her arm draped over the back of another stool. Older than you, maybe by a decade. She looks like a suit or off-duty fed, with a dress shirt undone to the top of her sternum, a blazer draped over her seat, and sandy hair pulled into a bun. Your eyes linger on the triangle of skin below her neck, and heat rushes up your neck when they pan to her face.

Though the color is difficult to discern in the dim light, they’re half-lidded and fixed to you over the rim of her glass. She taps the top of the empty seat beside her—as if the free drink wasn't a clear enough invitation.

Not your usual type, but a drink is a drink. It’s polite to respond.

Your thumb swipes the app shut, and you pocket your phone, scooting off your stool on an invisible leash. A warm ball of excitement tugging you across the sticky floor, slowing time in your head. You ferry the whiskey like it’s some grand gift, desperately not wanting to spill a drop and make a fool of yourself in front of whoever the hell this woman is.

Her eyes drop, appraising you on the approach. You think you might be buzzing as loud as the lights. 

“Hi,” you pass behind as her arm lifts off the stool, allowing you to sidle into the gap between and hoist yourself up. You set the whiskey on a coaster and tap it with a finger. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Hope neat’s alright.” She replies, head tilting slightly, body turning angling toward you. “Bad day?”

“Bad night,” you correct sheepishly. “I, uh, had a date but they canceled at the last second.”

Her tongue clicks, setting her glass down to undo the cuff buttons of her sleeves. “That’s bad manners. Their loss, though. You’re a knockout.”

The way she says it so casually, oozing confidence you only dream of, momentarily stuns you. You’ve been called ‘cute’ and ‘pretty’, but—Your brain short circuits at the sight of her deftly rolling her sleeves. Slight tan, a dusting of freckles, and a couple of interesting scars. Your eyes flick to hers, an amused smile telling you she’s caught you ogling for the second time.

“Thanks. That’s kind of you to say.” you finally reply, taking a sip of the whiskey in a move you hope exudes poise.

She tucks the fabric to one elbow and starts the other. “It looked like you could use something stronger. Thought a finger or two would help.”

The whiskey nearly shoots out of your nose, but you swallow after an embarrassing choke.

She merely chuckles and extends a hand to pat your back gently. “Of bourbon, that is.”

“Y-Yeah, no, I know,” you sputter and pluck a cocktail napkin from a stack, wiping your mouth and praying for a spontaneous, you-sized sinkhole to open beneath your seat.

“I’m Kate.” She rubs a slow circle near the top of your spine, then flattens her hand to rest her thumb on the nape of your neck. It brushes over the skin once when you give her your name. She repeats it, lifting her glass. “I’ll take their place for the night, unless you object?”

The assertiveness is a stark contrast to your fumbling and the coy indecisiveness of women you typically attract. The question hangs off her tongue, dangling like a worm on a hook. She wants you to bite, you feel it in the heat of her gaze, and let her in. She must be a fed with a focus like that; no way she’s corporate. You’ve lived in the DMV long enough to spot them. Can’t throw a rock without hitting one, anyway. 

You smile, feeling the warmth of Kate’s palm through your shirt. “I’d like that.” 

“Yeah? Good.” She sips, shifting further until her knee skims the outside of your thigh. “Tell me about yourself, kid.”

That does something for you, and you file it away for later. You mirror Kate’s posture, turning so your knees interlace. You know how intimate this must look to the handful of other patrons, to the bartender, as if you’re already a couple. Yet it feels natural, like you’re supposed to meld into the complete stranger because she bought you a drink. A breath slips out when her hand leaves your back, the angle too far to be comfortable, and drops to your kneecap. It’s like a game of chicken, all these small touches, and you kind of want to lose.

You prattle off the basics. How you moved to D.C. two years ago for work, how the city’s grown on you, and on a tangent, that you’re actually pretty lonely. It spills out of you freely, unable to look away from the steel blues seemingly hanging off every word. It’s the most attention you’ve received outside of work in a long time. It’s that and the whiskey, must be, why the butterflies in your stomach migrate to your chest, evolving into the thrum of a bird’s wings. 

To your quiet delight, her attention isn’t the only thing she gives you—it’s her interest. She hums and affirms. She asks questions. Digs into the meat of the story you spout off about your shitty landlord. And she squeezes your knee when you share how you spent the last holiday alone in the city. You try to turn it around once or twice, though you abandon that line of questioning after she tells you she’s a ‘contractor’.

Before you know it, you’re finished with a second whiskey and incredibly warm and wanting.

Kate hits you with the Let’s get out of here and loops an arm around your waist outside the bar. In the cab, you let her slide her hand up your leg, stopping in time to eat up your pathetic whine with a languid kiss. Though she pays the fare, you leave a big tip—an apology for the makeout he couldn’t’ve missed through the rearview.

You float through the hotel lobby in a haze of alcohol and lust, barely appreciating the swankiness of the place. Whatever ‘contractor’ really means, it pays well. She practically lassoes you into the elevator with one arm, her suit jacket draped over the other. 

“You can back out anytime.” She says, punching the button for her floor. “No hurt feelings.”

The blood in your veins itches with need as you grab her waist and haul her closer. You unabashedly stare, glossy-eyed. This woman, who’s been nothing but kind and attentive and generous—you want to return the favor. Tenfold. Something about her draws it out. “I don’t want to,” You whisper, the elevator softly dinging with each passing floor. “I want more.”

She smiles, hand fitting over the nape of your neck again like it belongs there, and reels you in for another kiss. It leaves you gasping when the lift stops.

Her room is a suite, another token of her apparent success. The best place you’ve ever stayed at came with a coffee maker. There isn’t much of a chance to admire it, though, since she plants you on the wall the moment the door clicks, latching it shut with her free hand. It’s a long, heated stumble further into the room, most of your clothes coming off with each step. It doesn’t hit you until she holds you at arm’s length to sit on the edge of her bed. She smirks up at you, tugging on the waistband of your underwear. Not to take them off but as direction.

You kneel between her open legs without a second thought.

“You still want more?”

Hours earlier, when your date texted a poor excuse to cancel, you didn’t think this was where the night would go. The weight of Kate’s gaze is heavy, almost as intoxicating as the whiskey lingering on your tongue. The anticipation is electric, and the view is…Well, you could get used to sitting on your knees if it’s her holding the reins.

You lay your hands on her thighs and feel the muscles beneath her pants shift. It’s heady, knowing someone this composed and enigmatic wants you, too.

“Yes.” You finally manage, hands sliding up to unbutton her fly and curling over the band to tug them down along with her underwear. Above, Kate chuckles, lifting her hips to allow you to peel them to her ankles. God, how desperate you must look when your eyes whip from her face to the patch of hair before you. Your mouth hangs open, drool already gathering on your tongue.

“You’ll catch flies like that.” she teases. 

Her hand lands atop your head. No pull or pressure. Yet. 

“But good answer,” Her fingers flex against your scalp. “Show me how good that pretty little mouth of yours is, shall we?”

Yes ma'am.

Without hesitation, you press open-mouthed kisses to Kate’s spread thighs, relishing the sigh of relief from above. You lay another on the hair above her pussy, inhaling her scent appreciatively, then give a few exploratory licks to her labia, avoiding where she wants you to wind her up. Something about a woman in control that makes you want to pick at a frayed edge and unwind her, even just a little bit. 

The hand in your hair tightens after more teasing, a silent Get to it. You still spare a couple more wet kisses, then lick a stripe over her hole before slipping it in. Her hips jut toward your mouth, pressure finally applied to your skull. You oblige her, searching for more of the vinous taste coating your tongue. You think it might be the best night of your life when she moans, your hands joining your mouth to gently spread her open.

“That’s it, just like that…” She rasps, voice thin and shaky. “That’s a good girl.” 

Your chest bursts at the praise, heat doubling in your cheeks. It cracks your eyes open, vision glazed. The sight of her, brow furrowed and lip caught between teeth—you did that. 

You dutifully continue, responding to each jerk of your head with soft groans, each one a direct line to your cunt. Pressing your thighs together, you feel how soaked you are, the cotton sticking. By the time you drag your tongue up to her clit, her legs shake, thighs trembling and bumping against your ears. Kate’s trying to keep them still; the tension beneath your hands charged and telling. When you wrap your lips around her clit to suck, you watch her eyes roll back and square your shoulders to keep her open.

“Atta girl.” She grits between her teeth, the fingers in your hair tightening to pull you snugly against her pussy. Her other hand fists the comforter, the fabric crinkling in her white-knuckled grip. “Don’t stop,” It’s almost a whine, bitten back and forced into a grunt. You could die here, nose buried in her bush and tongue stuck to her clit, chin slipping through her wetness. Drown or suffocate. It’d be a hell of a way to go.

But she comes, eyebrows pinched and mouth wide, going stock-still and rigid until the tension snaps. Kate shakes through it, letting all of one moan loose before clamping her mouth shut, baring her teeth to hiss instead. Her hips buck, and you carefully move with her, intent on catching everything she gives, greedily lapping at her until she tugs your head back.

A wet sheen paints your upper lip to your chin, possibly your throat, and you stare, hands on her knees, up at Kate. Her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, her eyes dark and color high on her cheeks. Mild carpet burn bites your knees, but you don’t dare move. 

It’s like that for a few minutes. Her hand loosens its grip to pet your hair, her breathing gradually leveling out. Her scent permeates the air and your skin. God, even if you never see her again after this, she’s a part of you now.

“Up,” She suddenly says, standing and gesturing to the bed. “Take off the rest, then on your back.”

You scramble, wincing at the pops of your knees, but she doesn’t seem to notice. The clasp of your bra works with you, unfastening easily, and you shiver when the damp gusset of your underwear slaps wetly against your thigh on the way off. She grabs bottled water from the nightstand instead, drinking deeply, looking away at the curtains covering the windows.

Turning around, she twists the cap and sets the water aside, licking her lip free of a stray droplet. The pink tip of her tongue enough to expel a sharp breath.

Peculiarly, she leaves her shirt on but joins you, crawling onto the bed with a smile that might’ve passed for soft if her eyes weren’t so sharp. She leaves barely any breathing space, draping a warm leg over yours and pulling it toward her. Her elbow rests beneath her, propping her up with a closed fist to her temple. Her other hand drifts from the crease of your thigh, over your stomach, and between your breasts. Head tilting, her tongue darts out again in apparent study, drinking you in. Her attention to the physical is just as reverent as it is in conversation. 

You cannot bring yourself to speak, afraid you’ll break the spell. But you twitch once, when her fingers ghost over a hard nipple, and she smirks.

“Yes?”

“Please,” You whisper, not too proud to beg, and reach for her hand. “Please touch me. I am so fucking—”

Kate tuts, freezing your hand’s approach, then softens it with a hushed laugh. “Impatient. If that’s what you want, then let me work.” She pinches the bud between her fingers, slowly maneuvering to her knees. “You were so sweet at the bar. Don’t tell me I’ve brought a selfish brat home.”

A frustrated groan slips out, stuttering into a whimper as she withdraws to sit on her heels. Your teeth catch your lip to silence another when she moves between your legs, not sparing a single glance to her prize. Her hands spider up your shins and down your calves. It’s torture, and she’s incredible at it. 

Never in your life have you been called a brat past childhood, and certainly not in the bedroom. It pokes at that earlier inkling, urges it out into the open, but you stubbornly smother it. Maybe you are—but you don’t want to be for her. 

“Kate, please,” you plead again. “Please, I just–I just got worked up when I–”

“Shh. I know. I’m being awfully rude. I’ll take care of you, pretty thing.” Kate purrs, finally lowering her gaze to your dripping center, and her lip curls. It’s calculated, the glacial speed with which she approaches your cunt. Situates herself nice between your spread legs, returning the favor of littering your shaking thighs with kisses, adding teeth into the meatiest parts. 

Her nails lightly comb south through your thatch of hair, two callused fingers tracing over either side of your sex. A third finger teasing a trail through the wet, before dipping into the first knuckle. “Fuck,” she gaps, marveling at the ease. “You weren’t kidding.”

Surely you’d think of a smarter comeback other than the nonsensical babble you stammer instead.

Your stomach twists into knots as a second finger joins the first, easing deeper, thumb hovering over your clit like a trigger. Her fingers move slowly and deliberately, but within seconds you’re taking them to the webbing. They crook and drag against your inner walls, coaxing a stream of needy sounds from your lips.

“Wish you could see yourself,” Kate rasps, voice a hair lower. Brow narrowed with rapt attention. “Think you can take three?” She chuckles at the breathy little in a minute you force out. “Good girl, telling me how it is.”

Her fingers start to scissor and stretch, thumb occasionally tapping your clit to see your hips jolt. Your eyes are rolled back into oblivion when her tongue makes contact, and they snap open so fast you need to blink away black spots. Your hands hover over her head, unsure if she’s—fuck, if she’s—

She unlatches from your clit, giving it a peck before nodding at your outstretched palms. As if all business, she sinks back into your cunt mouth-first and closes her eyes with a groan. Your pussy squeezes at the sight, a needy whimper accompanying your fingers as they thread through her hair, ruining her bun. 

Kate alternates between devouring your pussy and tongue-fucking your hole, showcasing an almost animalistic side to the controlled woman who charmed you at the bar. The sounds muffled by your thighs, so hungry and urgent, it’s almost too much. You suck your lip into your mouth as the heat flooding your abdomen steadily migrates.

“K-Kate, fuck, I’m close.”

With a wet pop, she lifts her head, face flushed and mouth drenched. Though you quietly protest, your orgasm dancing out of reach, you let a curse shrivel on your tongue. Her fingers slow to allow a third to prod at your hole. It’s a stretch, even as slick as you are. The two of you groan as she feeds them into you. She drops a kiss to your thigh once they’re in, gaze flitting up to read your face on the first languid push and pull.

“Yeah?”

“Y-Yeah, oh, oh fuck.” Your answer turns stupid at the insistence behind Kate’s renewed thrusts. The lewd, squelching sound drowns whatever shreds of coherency and possibly dignity you have left.

Her mouth returns, sawing your clit back and forth, applying pressure in tandem with the plunge of her fingers. 

If she minds the number you’re doing to her scalp, she doesn’t show it. Her hair comes undone under your desperate hands, trying to fuse your cunt to her jaw. Tit for tat, though maybe she thinks as you do, finding a warm and wet pussy a suitable demise. 

With deliberate timing, her fingers bury themselves, bullying through the tight clasp of your walls, and teeth graze your clit. They sever the last thread of control, and your vision whites out. Head tipped against the pillow and heels digging into the bed, you shatter, voice unrestrained and echoing through the hotel room. A sliver of embarrassment stitches through the silence after, the neighboring suites an afterthought.

Kate cleans you in the afterglow. Your legs twitch uncontrollably as a towel dips between your legs, brain too muddled to appreciate her undoubtedly flattering words. 

She climbs into bed after that, tucking the pair of you underneath the sheets. You guess you’re staying the night when she folds around you in a spoon. She sighs, deep and satisfied, breath tickling your ear. “Good?”

“Better than good.” A tired giggle ekes out, snuggling into the bedding. Your eyelids droop, your head blissfully swimming from the faint smell of Kate on your lips. You swallow, unable to stop yourself from sleepily asking, “What’s after this?”

Her lips press to your temple in a prolonged kiss. Long enough to make you think you made a mistake. Then she whispers. “Sleep. A shower. Then room service in the morning.” She must sense your unease, though, as she adds, “We’ll talk then.”

You nod, half-lost to slumber already, savoring the figure eights she traces on your side. 

In the morning, you wake to an empty bed and a knock on the door. One foot in post-sex sleep-induced delirium, you find a robe in the ensuite and greet an amused-looking hotel employee at the door. Cart in tow, they breeze past you, lifting a cloche from a mouth-watering breakfast and a small carafe of coffee.

“Do I need to…pay for this?” You ask, head as scrambled as the eggs on the plate. 

“No, it’s being charged to the room.” The man says as he unloads the cart onto the room’s table. He delays his departure, though, and you get the message. He leaves with the last of your cash, and you spot a note tucked under Kate’s pillow.

Sorry to leave you like this. Duty calls. Take your time with the room. No one will bother you beyond delivering breakfast. You can reach me at this number if you need a finger or three, again. - Kate

You snort and shove a piece of bacon into your mouth to distract yourself from the ache between your legs.

Later, you consider adjusting your age preferences up a bracket across your dating apps before deleting them altogether. You send a text, and it’s under a minute that three dots appear. 

>> Miss me already, kid?

[artyandink]

necessary precautions

Summary: You and Dean hadn’t really gotten to this stage before. You were partners in hunting, not in that way. But when you’re trying to plant a bug and camera in a room at a gala, you realise that you have a lot more underlying chemistry than you thought possible. Even though it’s an act. Even if you both think you’re not good enough for each other.

A/N - Yet another drabble (promise I’ll get to the fics guys, I just have too much creative juice where this is concerned)

You were having a hard time keeping your head. Especially when Dean’s fingers were pressing into your waist like that.

You two stumbled through the door, you first and Dean after as his hands regretfully left you to let his blazer drop to the floor with a soft thud, the sound of your lips connecting over and over again the only sound outside of your hot breaths mingling in the small gap between your lips. And that problem was quickly resolved by them melding together again, soft and pliable to each other’s whims.

Fast, hard, but oh, so sensual with the way his hands traced your form like he was sculpting some damn fine art.

“God, baby,” Dean murmured, his tie next to go as you both struggled to keep a grip on reality. Dean found himself hooked, hooked on the feel of your plush lips on his after all this time. All this time of waking up in a sweat to the dream of your lips all over him, on his neck, chest, abs- from your position straddling him, grinding long and slow. Open-mouthed and yours.

Line and sinker when he finally registered the intoxicating flavour of morning coffee, beer, and whiskey (a woman after his own heart), and then he was hit with the dizzying aroma of your floral perfume, mixed with the smell of the bakery you got his pie from and topped off with the hit of sweet, sweet pheromones- lord help him.

You couldn’t get enough of his calloused hands on your body, feeling up every inch, over your waist, pushing and pulling your hips in a way that had you almost letting out a real moan, tangling in your hair and pulling so he could deepen the kiss, which made the moan fall past anyway and had his eyebrows raised slightly at how convincing that was.

He had you two stumbling further into the spacious room, eyes open and quickly scanning until he tugged on your hair twice, a signal that the room was clear that allowed you to pull back and try and scan the room for a good place to put the bug and camera that you had on your person. He mouthed at your neck, the hint of teeth and tongue nearly having your knees shaking and giving way under you had it not been for your (quickly wavering) focus.

Ok, so… there’s a bed, but not too central. His lips finding that spot on your neck with such precision it had you whimpering. A couple chairs strewn here and there. His hands disappearing under your blouse to map out every little freckle on your back, pulling the band of your bra and snapping it against your heated skin. A big-ass table in the centre of the room. His lips finding your pulse and teasingly sucking.

Wait- a big-ass table. In the centre… of the… room…

You found the cold surface of the table prick at the back of your thighs, finding that Dean had already got you there and had lifted you up, rucking up that pencil skirt.

God, that tight little skirt drove him up the wall. And he was climbing higher up it.

“Look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” He murmured at his position of attacking - for lack of a better word - your neck, his hand massaging at your left knee, moving steadily up, rolling the softness between his skilled fingers, inching to where you were aching for him. To where you were waiting for him.

Until his hand stopped, withdrew from its position tantalisingly close to your panties and quickly planted the bug and camera. That he got from the thigh holster strapped to you, from underneath your skirt, which he then pulled down to protect your modesty.

Even if that lace was rendering him insane.

Your breaths were both laboured, no words exchanged as your eyes stared into his own mossy ones and his back at yours, his swollen, slightly reddened lips parted and craving yours. His hand gripping your hair again, nose bumping yours and ready to taste you on his tongue-

The door burst open, snapping you out of your session, with a singular shifter walking in, one who knew you both as the FBI agents from earlier. How did you know? The building you were in belonged to a shifter mafia, who were holding a charity gala of all things this very night. You and Dean had just finished questioning and needed to put a bug and camera in their main room so Sam - who was now waiting in Baby - could keep an eye on what was being said and done.

You forgot that detail when Dean’s hand had slid over your ass to grip your thigh, strong, firm and possessive. And it was buried in the back of your head when you tasted apple pie, whiskey and burger grease on his tongue; smelt old leather, cologne and his body wash.

So now you had to improvise, putting a hand on your chest, gasping and giggling in embarrassment while Dean turned his body, sliding a firm arm around your waist, like he was stating that you were his. God, you wished you were. “Oh! Sorry, we thought this room wasn’t, y’know, occupado. Just needed to have some privacy, right, babe?” You turned to Dean expectantly, who chuckled and turned to the shifter with a lick of his lips and a grin.

“Just snuck away for a moment.” He smirked, inclining his head to you as his hand inched slowly downward. “Couldn’t keep my hands off this one. Especially when she’s wearin’ that pretty, little skirt.” He punctuated his sentence with a sharp slap to your ass, which surprised you, but you covered it up to a swat of his dress-shirt covered chest (that was way too taut on him to be legal) with a laugh.

“Stop that, you’ll get me going again.” You found acting Dean’s hormonal girlfriend was easier than expected, considering the odds of the alarm being sounded that you weren’t really there to get down and dirty. You faced the shifter with a real forced love-sick grin, biting your lip briefly.

And Dean’s eyes totally weren’t on your plump, pink bottom lip and wishing it was his teeth worrying it like that.

“Can’t keep my hands off this one. Hard to when you have a man that’s so handsome, firm and… forbidden.” As a spot of payback, you slapped Dean’s ass in return, which had him jolting slightly, eyes darting everywhere before looking to his feet and smiling to himself with a pump of his eyebrows. Was it bad to think that was hot?

What?! He liked his women possessive. Or more so he liked you possessive, but he’d never say that. He’d die again before he did.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to play it off. “Anyway, we’d appreciate if you kept this on the DL, away from our associate, Agent Pierce. Tall, with the hair.” He gestured up to his head, referencing Sammy’s gorgeous hair. “He’s a real prude.”

You faux-scoffed in agreement, internally apologising to Sam. Dean wasn’t. “Oh, yeah, that guy. He’s a real suck up to the big boys back in DC.”

“A grass to the brass.”

“Puts the tittle with the tattle.”

“Can’t keep his mouth good and shut.”

“Snitches get stitches, am I right? You know the type.” You waved the shifter off with a small, rich laugh. “And I’d like to keep my job, see this hunk lookin’ all delicious in a suit.” You gently tapped Dean’s chest, then you realised that you had to get out of there before things got overly hormonal and suspicious.

“You’re the one who’s lookin’ goddamn edible, doll.” Dean drawled, nuzzling your neck with his nose, his acting skills surprisingly good. You kept on having to remind yourself that this wasn’t real. Disappointingly.

“Anyway, well, we have to head out before Agent Pierce gets suspicious.” You hopped off the table, picking up Dean’s blazer and tie, having him hold it while you did his tie up like a good fake girlfriend. “There we go, hon.”

“Always making sure I look good, baby.” He kissed your cheek quickly, and as you strutted out in those goddamn heels with a wink back to Dean, your hair messy, cheeks flushed, hips swaying and lipstick smeared, he let his eyes roam over your ass framed in that skirt with a lick of his lips, seeing the shifter guy doing the same- wait, what?!

Now, that was downright unacceptable. Only Dean got to check out your ass. Wait, that came out wrong. You weren’t even his.

Though he wished you’d be. Then he’d get to kiss those lips like that and actually breach second base.

“Quite a girl you got there, Agent.” The shifter guy smirked, looking at Dean with an impressed nod. “Fiery.”

Dean chuckled, nodding and stepping closer. “Yeah.” He bent so his mouth was right by the monster’s ear, even though he was itching to get out his silver knife and finish the job, talking in a rough tone that made the shifter forget he was a monster. “Look at her like that again and I’ll break your face.”

I appreciate feedback so much, guys!

Taglist: @hobby27 @k-slla

[sugoi-writes]

In Every Sense - Part 2 to Scent Kink!Alastor x Reader

It's heeeeerrreeee~ Here are some warnings: we get some internal monolgues of Alastor hopelessly trying to seduce you, oral (f!receiving), light man-handling, begging, and some really just... absolutely raunchy filth. Please enjoy~ (please note, this is still overwhelmingly inspired by @hazelfoureyes so please please GO READ HAZEL'S CONTENT. IM BEGGING YOU. ITS SO JUICY)

Right. Where was he? Oh yes... this mess.

Alastor straightened himself out quickly, mess of his clothing and floor included. Your clothes, however, were discarded to his bed... probably never to be washed again.

After he freshed up, his eyes scanned and paused in his armoire mid-search. His taloned hands brushed against a silk top... not one of his preferred fabrics, but one he could certainly pull off. His fingers danced on it a moment more, before deciding it was worth changing it up.

Black, lattice-patterned top and tailored, wine red trousers... simple, but classy, right? As he tossed around the idea of a belt, he decided to skip that step. It would make the process of settling between your sweat-covered thighs take an eternity too long. That is... if he didn't devour you first.

Alastor threw his casual fit together, opting to keep his pointed, black dress a part of the ensemble. But should he try boots...? Would that be too much? Maybe it would be easier to kick off...?

He wondered over to his personal liquor cabinet, pouring himself a whiskey. He needed to get a pep in his step and to still his rambling thoughts. Though he usually preferred to take things slower, savoring the bite of liquor on his tongue... He instead took it as a shot, hardly reacting to the harsh intake. His shoulders hunched, huffing as he turned to look in the mirror. How ridiculous he must've looked...

Hair disheveled... eyes half lidded. His hands were sweating, the loose blouse serving as a juxtaposition to his too-tight pants. Maybe his shirt should be tucked? No, that'd look stupid without a belt...

How strange it was for him to fret... at least, fret over impressing another person. Moreover, trying to impress someone he pined for. He almost loathed the way you made him feel, and how his core seemed to clench everytime you walked by... but, there was no room for doubt now: he would make you answer for his obsessions tonight. Surely you would take responsibility, wouldn't you...?

Alastor's head shook, before he opted to tuck half of his shirt in. He saw this often in modern fashion, targeting the front corner of the shirt to show off or bring attention to his thigh and... well-- downstairs.

He quirked a brow, intrigued with this look. It was... messy. Not the neat-and-narrow hes accustomed to. And in a way, he quite liked it. Maybe with the disheveled top, your eyes would be distracted enough to be drawn below the belt...?

Hah, what a pun. It doesn't work anymore if you don't have a belt, right?

Alastor chuckled, absolutely tickled by the thought. Alastor pulled out a wine-colored blazer, which perfectly complimented his pants. Can't be too prepared for the hellish night, right? He paused, walking over to your discarded top again for one final sniff; one final tease before the real thing. He shuddered at the thought, already feeling a light twitch coming from below. 

With a resolute nod, he walks out from his room, heading towards the lobby. Maybe you would be retired for the night? Maybe he could catch you before your evening shower... He sought you out, his nose steering the way as his thoughts swam with visions of you. He would have you tonight, he thought, his hands summoning and twirling his microphone with a prideful flourish.

--

You hadn't known how it got to this point. You hadn't known how much liquor both you and Alastor had drunk, round for round... but, Alastor's plan managed to work. He caught up with you, just before you were retiring for the night... and now, you did manage to head to bed... just the wrong one.

You yelped as you were slammed against his bedroom door, hands flying to grip the collar of his shirt. The passion of his kiss made you weak, his own knees buckled. Your sounds mirrored the other's, hips rolling in tandem as the heat between your bodies danced and mingled with one another. Alastor was already getting carried away, hands grabbing at everything he could touch... your cheek, your ass, your waist... He needed more. He needed you to be absolutely bothered and sweating.

Alastor pulled away, licking a long, wet trail from your collar bone to your ear. You trembled as ghost-like kisses were placed along your jaw, pleased sigh his reward. Your head tilted back and to the side, allowing better access to the longing demon.

"Ahh-- Alastor!"

His name fell from your lips, bruised and hanging agape as your breath came out in labored puffs. Alastor groaned, eyelids fluttering as he inhaled once more. A shaky sigh soon followed, making your thighs clench together. He licked at the sweat that ran down your neck, swirling his tongue before kissing there again.

More... he needed more of this.

No words were exchanged as his lips wandered lower, your clothing coming down and off with his lecherous journey. You could only cradle and grab at his hair, trying to slow or stop his descent when he would kiss a particularly gratifying area... but your eyes widened as his kisses lingered on your lower abdomen. Your eyes met his candy apple reds, swirling with lust and intrigue.

"Mon cher, I simply cannot bear to wait... I must have you." He couldn't contain his raspy sigh as he took your pants off, sliding them down your trembling legs. You'd be lucky to have these clothes back after this night...

Once you were bare before him, he kissed at your mound, the smell of your hormones and sweat making his brow furrow with desire. His eyes nearly rolled back into his skull as you moaned, nodding feverishly," I-I... I don't-- fuck, Al... Don't stop..."

Al looked firmly at you, mouth hanging open, but not coming closer. You huffed, trembling as your cheeks flush.

"... Pl-please... keep going... I want this."

Alastor smiled up at you, toothy grin absolutely drunk with adoration as he lowered his head. He spread your legs apart, arms moving to lift you. You were pushed up until you sat upon his shoulders, suspended a few inches off the ground. You were shaking at the realization of how powerful he was; how easily he was able to sustain you with just his shoulders. It was a strength that made your abdominals clench in anticipation.

The moment his tongue ran up your slit, you saw the light, eyes widening from the feeling of his warm muscle. Alastor grunted as he started to gently lap at your core. Finally: something that distracted him from how divinely you smelt...

Now he had a new muse (and problem) to keep him up at night... the taste of your arousal.

Like a man starved, he began to lavish you earnestly, hands trapping your thighs around his head. He showed you no mercy as his tongue alternated between stimulating your clit and delving into your relaxed hole. You convulsed with his minstrations, one hand stabilizing you against the door while the other gripped an antler for deer dear life. You soon found your hips rolling into his face, his nose brushing your clit with every thrust. Your head collided with the door as your moans transformed into animalistic whines and huffs, unable to control the ravenous sounds he tore from you. Alastor wasnt any more refined, hungry like a tramp in heat.

His expression shook and strained with pure bliss as he took you in whole: touch, sight, sounds, scent, and taste. This truly was the thing that he needed most; to seek you in your entirety. He knew now that he needed to own your body by ways of physical desire and passion... something he only became keenly aware of recently.

Now, even if your soul would so pretty under his grasp... this seemed to outweigh that desire. This was the ultimate way to both have you, and for you to tie a metaphorical leash around his neck. He hadn't fully realized it, but he was completely and utterly yours, and after this display, you'd surely have him the same way...

His dignity be damned. You were too sweet to resist.

You held his fringe out of his face as Alastor groaned with every flick of his tongue, vibrations sending your nerves into overdrive. His movements, his reactions, and his blatant obsession with your scent had you seeing stars. You ground your face harder into Alastor's obedient tongue, forcing his inhales to be rapid and short. Had he breathed any harder, one would speculate he was panicking. But ahh, what a way to die again, but by your thighs and eager cunt...

"Sh-Shit-- Alastor I'm-- fuck, y-you're too-- Hah!"

Alastor's cock twitched and strained, unable to be freed as your noises grew in tempo and pitch: you were nearing your climax.

Yes.

Yes, cum on him; cum on his face.

He wanted to see your mouth hang open in a silent wail, riddled with ecstacy. He wanted to feel your legs snap his neck from the force of your grip. He wanted to taste the arousal on his tongue as it multiplied. And most importantly... he wanted to be fully engulfed in your scent as your cunt rode his tongue... At this rate, he would be making another mess tonight.

He would never wash his shirt again, aware of the cum dripping down onto the collar of his dress shirt... a notion that nearly made him squirm. Maybe he could convince you to let him keep your outfit, as a token of tonight's debauchery?

He had no more time to think as your orgasm overcame you. Both hands held his antlers as your frantically ground into his mouth, practically suffocating him as you sprayed his jaw with your release. Alastor could only take it, choking and sputtering but absolutely living in the moment. His eyes were fully rolled back, schelaras devoured by a deep, pitch color.

When oversensitivity started to make you quiver, you pulled away, utterly satisfied. Your hands went to smooth out Alastor's scrunched-up hair as he panted. You gave it a playful ruffle, apologetic for your behavior. You smile breathlessly down to the overwhelmed demon, about to thank him... Then, a shrill scream is ripped from your throat. Alastor's seering, hot tongue is on your clit again, hands digging in to the plush of your thighs.

"Mmph... more-- Please, let me have more, cher... need it-- need you!"

You whined as Alastor's pleas fell unto eager ears, head lolling. Alastor's tongue began to awaken a new vigor in you. You were more than happy to please the starved man below you... Maybe next time, you'd tie him up in your clothes, leaving him unable to do anything but take your passion, in every sense of the word...

[chosos-mascara]

wedding night

𝙩𝙤𝙟𝙞 𝙛𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙤 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - after an arranged marriage to unite your clans, you're left alone in a hotel room with your new husband.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - arranged marriage (reader + toji), cunnilingus, pet names (sweetheart, baby), possessiveness from toji ("you're mine"), toji's described as big, reader submissive, creampie 1.4k words

Toji threw himself down, mattress moving with the buoyancy of his body, pushing him upward only slightly before bowing with his weight. He'd unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt - blazer and waistcoat discarded long before the end of the night. You stood awkwardly, thumb caressing over the back of one hand for comfort. In this moment, you'd been thankful for the less interesting choice in bridal gown, an ivory slip dress for a more casual occasion - it had suited Toji's lax manner abundantly well. It must have been a characteristic your mother had predicted, or perhaps learned from the husband she had picked out for you. 

"Y're lookin' like a lost little puppy." Perhaps the first sentence your new husband had said to you. Most of the evening had consisted of interacting with families, the uniting of clans more important than the binding of two people. The Zen'in's had only agreed to allow your clan to ally with them if you would marry whom they'd viewed as their weakest - born with no cursed energy. Though as your eyes wondered over the rugged man before you, you'd been left to witness an aura like no other. From one glance at Toji, you'd felt he'd held more ability than any Zen'in you'd met that evening. 

"Sorry." You'd mumbled, gaze met with narrow green eyes. He'd made himself comfortable, laying back on the bed with his head supported by the thickness of pillows, black hair splaying onto the white sheets surrounding him.  "Jus' go get changed n take your face off - or whatever ladies do at night." Toji's eyes closed, an arm draping across his forehead. Glancing toward the bathroom, you'd did as he'd suggested, a white nightie packed neatly within the bag you'd dropped off earlier in the day. 

Even after washing up and changing, you hadn't wanted to return to the room in which Toji had laid. The realization that the man on the other side of these walls had now been bound to you by law, and by your families standards had some ownership over you had dawned deeply over your mind. The excitement of escaping your family had lifted, replaced by the dread of a man you'd never met before your wedding day. 

Toji had been closed off for the entire event, speaking only to those close to him, ordering the same glass of whiskey over the course of the evening. He hadn't appeared rude toward you, yet he'd not seemed too interested either. Hunched against the tiles, you were left with the question of what he'd expected of you this evening - the first night as a married couple. Sighing, you lifted a hand to the lock, deciding to push yourself into the unknown. With enough luck, the alcohol he'd drank would've lulled him into a peaceful slumber, in which you'd be able to mirror within the hour. 

"Thought you'd ran away." His voice had almost startled you when you'd opened the door. Toji now sat upright with phone in hand, eyes glued to your figure. It had been obvious where his gaze had landed, right over the peak of fabric that covered your breasts, small bumps over the perked nipples due to change in air. You hadn't expected him to look over you so nonchalantly, yet his attention had caused a twist within your stomach you'd appreciated. 

"And, why would that be?" The tone from your voice had been more seductive than you'd intended, though with his scan of your curves and clear interest in the nightgown you'd worn, part of you'd hoped he'd reflect the sultry aura.  "Took a long time is all." Toji shifted, finally locking his phone and placing it on the bedside table. When his hand had been left empty, it had immediately drifted down to his belt, resting over the top of his fly. The movements had drawn your attention to the area, noticing a larger bulge beneath the fabric. 

"Was getting ready for you." Lips curving upward, you placed one foot in front of the other, finally guiding your nervous body toward the bed he'd lounged within.  "Oh, really?" His voice had sounded distant as his focus remained only on your physical being, pushing himself away from the headboard when your body had finally met with the mattress beside him.  "Do you like it?" There was a slight need for validation even if you'd been aware of his answer, wanting to hear praise fall from his mouth. The scar over his lip contorted when you'd asked, a smirk forming when he'd finally lifted his eyes from your chest, meeting your own.  "I'm a man, after all." 

Lips connecting, you'd been left to taste the Zen'in you'd now called your husband. The first kiss shared with one another - a heated and passionate affair after a much too stressful day. In fact, it had been a build up over the past month that had driven both you and him insane - one that you'd finally overcome. Toji's difference from his family had given you faith that perhaps he'd been a good man - the opposite to most Zen'ins within his clan. 

Large hands were quick to glide over the silk as his weight shifted above you, legs spreading to accommodate his wide structure. He hadn't taken his time with the outfit, moving the skirt upward with aggression until you'd been left bare from chest down, exposed to the male above you.  "Couldn't like it that much if you're taking it off so quickly." There had been confidence behind your voice that Toji had admired, a fire ignited within him when remembering you were his to fuck all he'd pleased. A bratty woman had some appeal behind it, a challenge to guide you into submission.   "Prefer you bare." His words were spoken against your stomach as his tongue met with your skin, licking and nipping over flesh and allowing goosebumps to trail behind his touch. Toji's breath was hot against you, tickling you as he'd made his way over your core. Unlike the haste with uncovering you, he took his time in lowering himself to reach between your thighs, leaving your heart to race in anticipation.

Finally, his face had halted, tongue pressing to you entrance and gliding a stripe upward, a low hum from your lips as he'd began to taste you. Toji had been eager once relishing in your flavor, swirls of his tongue as you'd been left to appreciate the work of his mouth. Leisurely, he placed middle finger alongside his tongue, moving the pad over you to move alongside his tongue, before finally drifting down and dipping into your already dripping core. Your hips had innately bucked upward, a languid grind against his face and whimper from lips as he'd drawn his finger in and out, another irrepressible moan when he'd added a second. 

The build up had began when he'd picked a pace, fluid movements of his wrist and mouth, soft sucks over the sweet bud that had him humming against your cunt in adoration. Your fingers had found their way to lace within his hair, a gentle tug to signify your pleasure pulling another sound from his chest.  "Close." The word uttered under your breath as your eyes had squeezed closed, a high pitched squeak from your body as you'd felt your high crash over you. Toji had chuckled against you, vibrations adding to intensity. 

Only when you'd fell limp to the bed, whines dying on your tongue, had Toji pulled back, a languid wipe over his face before unbuttoning his trousers. He hadn't given you a chance to look before lining himself with your wetness, a jolt from your body when feeling the head of him run along your folds, a hiss flowing between his teeth when finally stretching you over him.  "Gonna take it all, sweet thing?" His whisper had caused tingles to prick over your spine, a slight burn when he'd pushed deeper into you. When adjusting to size you'd thought it better you hadn't caught a glimpse of his length before he'd entered you. 

Slowly, he rocked his hips, mouth latching over your neck and sucking to leave a mark. One large hand grasped over your chest, fingers wrapping around as he'd squeezed harshly over a breast. "Such'a good girl." The deep tone had ricocheted from the base of your neck as his face had nestled between shoulder and throat, another roll into you. The initial pain had subsided and you'd felt yourself relaxing beneath him, each rock causing his lower abdomen to glide over your cunt, kissing the surface of your clit. You'd ran teeth over your bottom lip, a shudder over skin when contact had been made.  "My fucking good girl." Toji's possessiveness had been apparent, yet it hadn't scared you. When he'd groped and squeezed over your body, marking you and claiming you as his, you'd been left in enjoyment rather than fear. 

"'m all yours, Toji." The approval from your lips had him groaning against you, an excited bite over your skin as he'd pulled his face back, allowing himself to admire the woman beneath him. When your eyes had fluttered open, you'd been met with the same green orbs you'd caught only glimpses of throughout the day, pupils now blown out, skin prickled with heat.  "Say that again, baby."  "I'm yours, Toji." Hearing his name, he jolted forward, stomach sucking inward when feeling you wrap around his base and take him at full length. The movement had caused your mouth to drop wider in awe, eyes rolling upward.  "Fuck-" He drew back before pounding himself forward again, though this time his body had stuttered with the movement, a staggered breath from lips. "Take it-" Toji's instruction had been cut short by a guttural groan, head tilting back as he'd fucked his seed into you. 

tags - @suget

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crash and Burn 6

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Tony Stark

Summary: a powerful man comes crashing into your life. Literally.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You land on your back. The constant wind tunnel has left you dizzy and buzzing. Your body feels hollow as you lay vibrating on the ground—floor? 

The helmet retracts from your head and the rest of the suit collapses. You’re left panting at the ceiling as Tony casually strolls around you. He chuckles as he stands above your head and bends to look down at you. 

“You good, sweetheart?” He taunts. 

You growl and sit up furiously. You’re nearly bowled over as the effort swims in your head but you resist the spin of the walls. You stand and grip your skull, blinking as you try to clear away the vertigo.  

The large window panel slowly slides itself back into place. On the other side, a view of the dimming city skyline twinkles back at you. You keep space between you and Tony as you take in the strange place. Leather, acrylic, dark wood. It’s a tapestry of luxury that puts your own existence to shame, even before he blew it shrapnel. 

“Why did you bring me here?” You hiss. 

“Long flight, huh? Bit of turbulence,” he shrugs off his jacket and struts across the room. “I could use a drink. How about you?” 

“I want to go home--” 

“Sweetheart, we went over this. Your mom lost her home and I replaced that. You weren’t part of the conversation.” He steps around the bar and folds his blazer over the end. He sidles along and grabs a full-bellied decanter of liquor from beneath. “I didn’t think it was very motherly of her but I guess you didn’t contribute much.” 

“I paid her rent. Half—it doesn’t matter. That’s not your business.” You storm across the room, larger on its own than the breadth of the trailer he destroyed. “It’s for me and my mother to sort out. Take me home.” 

“Again,” he grimaces, but it’s almost sarcastic, and he clinks down two empty tumblers. “What home?” 

You scoff then snarl, then step back and frown. You drop your head as you grip your hips. You need to call your mom—but you don’t have your phone. You have nothing. Everything you ever had was in the trailer and the only thing you saved was left behind. No wallet, no phone, nothing to get yourself out of here. 

“You can’t do this? Is this what you do? You just want something and take it? Demand it? I’m a person. You can’t just steal me--” 

“I didn’t steal you,” he pours the whiskey. “I made a fair deal.” He nudges a glass towards you and smirks. “Have a drink, it’ll help. I get it, backwoods girl in the city, it’s scary. You gotta adjust--” 

You take the glass and hurl the whiskey in his face. The liquid splashes down his shirt and tie and soaks his hair. You slam the tumbler down and sneer. “Why are you doing this to me?” 

He’s silent as he turns and grabs a fabric napkin. He unfolds it, calmly, and wipes his face. He dabs the fabric of his shirt and looks at you. His nose flares. 

“Post has been removed. Reported for misinformation, so, I don’t need you to go in and hit that magic button. Oh, but I do have my team cleaning up your social media. Just in case you have something nasty buried in that bodunk past.” He says. 

“What? I don’t-- why? Over a post? The truth? So why waste your energy? On me? What—if the post is down--” 

“Sweetheart, I can’t lie. The post led me to you but it didn’t keep me around. That was you. You’re... fun? Interesting?” He narrows his eyes as his cheek dimples, “hard to say but you do get my motor running so I went with the mood. Or how is it you younger folk say, the vibe.” 

It takes all your restraint not to roll your eyes. You cross your arms and glare back at him defiantly. 

“Bullshit. You’re Tony Stark. Everyone, even some smalltown rat like me, knows who you are. You got them lined down the block so I’d rather not join the queue--” You sniff. 

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. The playboy thing plays well among the male demographic, twenty to forty-five. The young ones want to make it big and get the pussy, the old ones are married and wished they’d done it all different. Their dicks stop working with all that stress and their wives are too busy to even try to wake it up so--” 

“Ew. You’re disgusting.” 

“Hey, I do well with your demographic too. I mean, the ladies don’t line up for nothing,” he snickers. “And what do you know, you got a VIP pass.” 

He raises his glass and drinks. The slurping sound further agitates you. You clamp your lips shut and turn to look around. You take it all in. You feel out of place. Not just knowing you’re as far from home as you’ve ever been, but the decor alone. You slept on a dining table that converted to a bed for the best of the decade. You’re not exactly from the high-life. 

You retreat back to the window and gaze out at the New York silhouette. Your stomach boils and your vision blurs. You hate that he can just do this. That you have no way to stop him.  

Worse than everything else, your mom did this. You don’t what he told her, if he prettied up his intent, but it doesn’t matter. Your mom had always been so eager to get rid of you. She dated a guy once and when they split, he tried to ask you out. She actually encouraged him. You should’ve seen this coming. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Tony steps up next to you, the smell of alcohol roiling off of him. “It’ll make me tolerable. That and the sex.” He slaps your ass and you squeak, instinctively shoving him away. “I’m telling you, have some whiskey, it’ll loosen you up.” He offers a new glass of the dark liquor. “Nurse it, don’t down it all at once. I want you to think. Have I asked for permission so far? Am I going to start?” 

You stare at him. Your breath is trapped in your chest. His meaning is clear. You couldn’t stop him before and you won’t stop him now. You take the liquor and turn back to the window. It might at least dull your emotions. You don’t want to feel any of this. 

[nevernonline]

✧.* what’s your number?; kmg

synposis: after finding an online article about the number of sexual partners a woman should have, your day with your neighbor turns into him being lucky number eighteen.

paring/s: model! mingyu x afab! reader, ft. little brother! chan.

genre/s: humor (sort of lmao), neighbors2lvrs vibes, fuckboy&girl reader and gyu.

warning/s: alcohol consumption, sexual content (minors - dni), talks of broken bones, oc has female genitalia

word count: 3.8k

content: seggsy times, idiots being besties, reader loses her job, all the vibes.

note/s: loosely based on one of my fav movies, what's your number with anna ferris. lmao enjoy. also def unedited so srry. xo.

“Miss. Y/L/N. I’m very sorry but we have decided to let you go.” 

Your boss put down a brown cardboard box that once held wine from a staff party about a week ago. You stood in silence, why were you being fired? You’re one of the only executives who does their job. All of the other employees sit around and drink whiskey and flirt with the other women on your floor on company time, go home to their wives, and make six figures. 

“Sir, can I ask why?” 

“Budget cuts, sorry honey.” 

Honey of course. Not only is he himulating you, he’s also being condescending. 

“Why not fire Ted? He does nothing but use his company card for ‘business expenses’ like taking his different fucks to exotic vacations and restaurants.” 

“Our female clients like Theodore. Sorry it has to be this way. Here’s a check to keep your rent underway and for any troubles. Good luck.” 

You picked up the brown cardboard he handed it to you and dumped the white envelope into your bag as you stormed out of his glass chamber. 

Perfect timing, your brothers getting married and you’re getting fired. Your mother will surely love to hear about this. 

After gathering the contents of your desk you found your way back to your white and gray covered apartment, sinking down into the perfect couch you bought yourself as a reward for your first month in the job. 

Pulling your laptop from the pocket of your work bag, you scrolled through the news on your side widget . Coming across an article written in some stupid lifestyle magazine about ‘the appropriate number of sexual partners for women.’ 

“Okay, so society is regressing.” 

Curious enough you scrolled through to a small section with a quiz, childish, but probably suitable for women over 50 or under 21. 

Following your finger down the various categories that pertained to you until it came to the bottom of the page pointing out your result. 

“15 and over, women with this number often have difficulty finding a spouse and are unlikely to ever settle down. Are they fucking serious? Men can fuck 50 women and still are fine.” 

A vibration came from your phone, a text from your neighbor. 

[3:44pm]. 

Mingyu: Mind helping me out? New girl won’t take the bait about my “emergency” 

Y/N: what’s the issue with her this time? 

Mingyu: nothing, just too clingy. I’m expecting you in five, say our dad fell in the shower. Thank you, owe you. 

Y/n: got it see you in five. 

Mingyu and you met often when you were ushering out hook ups or crazy exes show up to your door. You didn’t know much about his life, other than he’s a model, and obviously has bad luck with women. 

Pulling yourself up off your couch and throwing a blazer back over your shoulders you strode off down to the other end of the hallway. 

“Mingyu? Mingyu seriously answer your phone? Hello!” 

The door opened revealing a semi-naked girl, she was pretty sure, blonde, tall, nice eyes, but boring. 

“Who the fuck are you?” 

“Mingyu’s sister, who the fuck are you?” 

“Oh my god! So sorry, hi so nice to meet you, I’m Ailee his gir-“ 

“My friend, y/n. What’s wrong?” 

Letting yourself passes the bra sporting blonde you looked Mingyu straight in the face and pulled out your best crying face, it was easy today being that you’re pissed about work and that stupid fucking quiz. 

“It’s dad, he fell. I don’t think it’s good, we have to go.” 

“Oh. Okay, let me change.” 

Mingyu pulled in his jeans and a white t-shirt, grabbed his fancy leather wallet from the counter and pulled you through the front door of his condo. 

“Ailee, let yourself out okay?” 

“Call me?”

“Uh, maybe it sounds like this is bad, maybe we should stop seeing each other? I’ll call you.” 

The truth is Mingyu was never going to call her, he said that to all the others. Yet, you never saw them again. 

Silently you open the door to your place and shut it behind you. 

“She seems nice.” 

“Yeah trust me, she’s not.” 

“Noted. But, better than that crazy red headed girl, Cass was it?” 

“We don’t have to talk about her.” 

“Missing that jacket still?”

“Yes.” 

Mingyu took his place on your leather armchair and sipped the coffee you had initially made for yourself. 

“What is this? What’s your number?”

“Oh my god. Stop looking at my shit.” 

You whipped the lid of your laptop close and stole it out of his hands

“Do you really think anyone cares how many people you sleep with? Isn’t that kind of fucked up?” 

“You can only say that because well, one your a man and two you’ve fucked basically half the women in this city.” 

“Not true, we haven’t fucked.” 

“Right and we will not.” 

“Sure, sure keep telling yourself that. So what is it? 12?” 

“Do you really need that answer?” 

“Yes. And I will bother you until you tell me.” 

“17.” 

Mingyu laughed, not because he felt bad for you or that you were going to hell for fucking 17 people, but because he didn’t see the big deal. 

“Oh come on, that is not that bad.” 

“What’s yours?” 

“Maybe 20?” 

“We are way too close in number for me to not feel weird about it now.” 

“Because it doesn’t matter, why do you think you couldn’t get a husband or boyfriend or whatever the fuck you want because of that?” 

“I don’t know, I didn’t until today I guess.” 

“Bad day?” 

The dark haired man’s head nodded towards the unpacked cardboard box sitting on your dining table. 

“Weird day. And now I have to go see my family at an overly fancy party and sit around clutching cocktails and lie that I didn’t lose my job, just until their precious boy is married off.” 

“Ah, the black sheep of a rich family huh?” 

“Shut up, no. They’re just judgmental is all. Well, my mom is anyway.” 

“I see. What are you wearing?” 

“I don’t know? What’s wrong with what I have on now?” 

Mingyu looked you over in your semi unbuttoned dress shirt and oversized trousers, sexy and sophisticated, but a little boring for a party. 

“Actually you look good. But, it’s not exactly giving a cocktail party for the sister of the groom. Especially if your mom is as judgmental as you say.” 

“Okay, go in my closet then. Work your weird model magic or whatever, Mr. Jeans and white tee.” 

“Anything for you, rich girl.” 

You walked Mingyu through your bedroom into the oversized walk in closet, filled to the brim of clothes, half of them with tags still on. Gifts from boyfriends, friends, your mother. 

“Wow, I didn’t expect this.” 

“And what did you expect?” 

“A closet turned into an office and like five pairs of the same pants, maybe matching pajama sets. But not this.” 

Sitting down on the small stool you let the man rifle his way through the various colors of fabric. 

“Okay, so this black dress. It’s tight but not overwhelmingly, it’ll show your figure and still make you appropriate. These tall black boots, sexy to show off your long legs and make you look even taller, a nice bag, maybe.. this red one? Or the green, just for a pop of color. Put it on.” 

“You finish quickly .” 

“Never had a woman say that to me before. Hurry up.” 

Smirking, you run back into your bedroom, out of sight from the man tapping his fingers on the marble countertop of your dressing room, sliding into the outfit he picked out. 

“Okay, I look-“

“Beautiful.” 

“Really? Don’t you think this is a little much? I mean, for this?” 

“Not at all, it’s actually really simple. May I?” 

He held up a silver chain necklace in his hands and waited until you nodded as he strung it around your neck. 

“Perfect. Now, leave your hair up. Maybe a nice bun and curl the front pieces? You look nice without makeup on, but do that cute winged liner look you do with a nude lip.” 

“Okay, since when did you become a stylist?” 

“I’m a model, I know what I’m talking about. Come on, chop chop.” 

“Okay, mom. Jesus.” 

“Dad. Daddy, actually.” 

“That's never happening.” 

Doing his instructions as he asked, you curled the front pieces of your hair letting it softly dangle in front of your face and placed the rest up on the crown of your head in a loosely tied knot. 

“Okay. So maybe you’re good at this.” 

“I know. If you need my help further, you know where to find me.” 

“You’re leaving?” 

“Aren’t you?” 

Holding up your phone you realized how much time has passed and grabbed your keys. 

“Right. Thank you.” 

“My pleasure. See you soon, y/n.” 

“Bye, Gyu.” 

Walking up to the front steps of your parents luxurious brown stone, you felt the cold sweat under your armpits before walking in the front door. 

“Y/N holy shit, where have you been? Mom is going to kick your ass.” 

“Sorry, Chanie. I had something going on. Where is she?” 

“In the dining room with Marnie and Seungcheol. Talking about wedding stuff, please save us.” 

Coming to your brother's rescue was part of the job of being an older sister. Seeing him settle down and get engaged to a girl like Marnie was amazing for you, she was everything he needed, and it was nice to have another girl in your family. 

Grabbing  a glass of champagne from the silver tray of a waiter, you strode up to your mother in your childhood home, still as nervous as you would have been as a little girl to be under her gaze. 

“Aw, my baby. Finally arrived. Hello.” 

“Hi, Mom. Hello, guys.” 

You mom hugged you giving a kiss on both of your blushing cheeks passing you along to greet your brother's future wife and his friend Seungcheol. 

“Y/N, you look amazing. Where did you get this beautiful dress?” 

“Thank you. My friend helped me pick this out actually, I don’t remember where it’s from.” 

“Friend? Which friend is this, darling?” 

“His name is Mingyu, he’s my neighbor.” 

“Gay? He has wonderful taste.” 

“No, not gay mom. He’s a model.” 

“Oh wow, can I see a photo? Why didn’t you bring him?” 

“Maybe next time.” 

After downing the first glass of alcohol you quickly look for another, Seungcheol already holding a glass in his hand for you with a wink. 

“Thank you.” 

“Anytime.” 

“Y/N, can you go find your father? Now that you're here we can start dinner.” 

“Yep.” 

Strolling throw the various rooms full of priceless knickknacks and photos of your youth, you stop at the open oak doors of your fathers study, looking at him for a moment, behind his desk, glasses on, reading his book. 

“Hello, Dad. May I come in?” 

“Y/N, yes of course. Just hiding out here until I can eat some dinner. How are you?” 

“I’m okay, mom sent me to get you to come eat. What are you reading?” 

“Oh, just some Orwell. Relaxes me.” 

“Shall we, sir?” 

“Yes, my girl.” 

You held your arm out for your father, he was always your best friend, someone who no matter what supported everything you wanted to do. He was stern, but even after parenting you he would end it with a hug and a piece of candy, seeing him grow older had your heart in pain. 

Searching the table for your placecard, it sat you right in between your brother and Seungcheol, his best man and best friend for longer than you could ever remember. 

“Are you coming to his bachelor mixer?” 

Seungcheol’s long eyelashes fluttered in front of your face and you noticed how much more mature he looked, he was always cute, but it’s grown on you now. 

“Are you going to embarrass me?” 

“I’m not the one who got drunk in college and broke her arm trying to dive into the fountain.” 

“Ouch. At least I haven’t shit myself drunk as an adult and embarrassed myself in front of the girl I liked.” 

“I did not shit myself. It was a fart.” 

“A fart with a little poop, a shart if you will. What did they call you? Shart Seungcheol?” 

Your mother interrupted the light flirting you two were enjoying and gave a speech about how lovely it is to see her baby marrying a second daughter and so on and so on. 

After everyone downed their salmon and fancy finger food, you got into the silly party bus along side the rest of the bridal party, moving on to the night of drinking ahead of you. 

“Guys let’s play a game on the way to the bar.” 

Your brother's fiancé spoke, turning down the music and passing around multiple bottles of tequila and glasses. 

“Everyone right down a confession on your paper. If we guess whose it is, they have to drink, but if you get it wrong you drink.” 

Looking down at the small pink sheet of paper you wrote about your day, your sex number, and you losing your job. Maybe nobody will get it, maybe nobody will care because they’ll be equally as drunk. 

The game went on as your anxiety grew and nobody had chosen your confession yet, that was until your brother pulled one of the last sheets of paper out from the bowl. 

“Today I lost my job, I let a stupid magazine article tell me how women who have sex with more than 15 men means they’re unloveable and unwanted. I can’t wait to get fucked up. Congratulations! Well that’s my sister.” 

“What? How did you guess that?” 

“I know your handwriting dumbass, drink, everyone drink.” 

Your night continued, nobody mentioned your failure as a person, they just celebrated the happy couple. 

More and more drinks in, maybe the same amount of people you’ve had sex with. You took it upon yourself to get people on the dance floor, when you felt a pair of hands coming up on your hips, turning around to curse them out, you recognized the eyes staring back at you. 

Mingyu. 

“What the hell are you doing here!?” 

“Birthday party, we always come here. What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Mixed sexes bachelor party.” 

Mingyu's hands were still resting on your hips, on top of the very dress he helped you pick out hours before. 

“Exciting. Want to get a drink with me?” 

“I have one.” 

You held up the half empty glass of your Negroni and Mingyu snatched it from your grip, downing it for you. 

“You’re paying.” 

“Yes. That was the plan.” 

His hand pulled out off the dance floor and back over to a pair black leather bar stools, waving the bartender over. 

“Two whiskey sours please.” 

“No, one whiskey sour. I’ll have a whiskey neat.” 

The bartender nodded working his magic for the two rocks glasses. 

“Here you go, tab Mingyu?” 

“Yes, thanks John.” 

“Wow first name bases?” 

“I told you we like to come here. Who’s the pale dude staring at us?” 

You turned around to look at your brother, cheering you from across the bar. 

“My brother, Chan. His wedding party.” 

“Yes, I remember. I meant the one next to him?” 

“Ah, Seungcheol. Best man.” 

“He wants to fuck you, maybe he’s lucky number eighteen.” 

“Maybe he was lucky number ten back in the day.” 

“Do you remember his number?” 

“No, but I’ve already fucked him. In college.” 

“Ah, I see. Still on the hunt?” 

“Not at all actually, I’m celabte now.” 

“No way, I bet you could find many dudes who’d want to fuck you here.” 

“It’s a matter of if I want to fuck them no?” 

“Touchè” 

“What about him?” 

Mingyu pointed to a tall blonde, long hair, and pretty lips. 

“Gorgeous. But not my style. I’m not really in the mood to get laid.” 

“And let my work go to waste?” 

You smiled, sipping your drink and feeling the warm liquid enter your body. 

“You didn’t give me my beautiful face and fat ass, you just put it in a dress. And as my dad says, leave them wanting more.” 

“You’re a very funny drunk, she shocks me even more.” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Do you ever get tired of having me save your ass from all those girls? Don’t you want to settle down and not have your neighbor coming over to rescue you all the time?” 

“Maybe the reason I do it is so you’ll save me.” 

“Shut up.” 

“No. I’m serious. I like hanging out with you, I enjoy seeing you, and you’re very entertaining. I like role play.” 

“I see, you have a kink.” 

“All jokes aside, I like seeing you.” 

You were surprised by his gentle voice and nature, you always knew him from the outside, a beautiful guy who has bad luck getting girls out of his apartment for whatever reason. 

“I like seeing you too.” 

Mingyu's hand rested on your thigh as he looked towards the same dance floor he pulled you from before, basically begging you with his eyes to come back out with him. 

You agreed, holding his hands through various sweaty bodies, some you knew and some you didn’t. Dancing along with them to the rhythm of the song, holding yourself up on Mingyu's large frame 

“Surprised to see you in something other than jeans and a tee.”

“You like?” 

“If I say yes are you going to fuck with me over it?” 

“Maybe. Are you going to let me be your lucky number eighteen?” 

“If you promise you don’t have some random girl barge in your door tomorrow to get me to leave?” 

“She’ll be tied up.” 

“Let’s go. I have to say bye to my brother first. Come on.” 

Walking towards the door you spot Chan playing darts with Marnie, who was obviously kicking his ass. 

“Hey! I’m going to head out, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Is this Mingyu?” 

“Oh shit, yes Marnie, Chan, this is Mingyu. Mingyu, this is my brother Chan and his fiancé Marnie.” 

Mingyu outstretched his hand to the couple, shaking it kindly. 

“Nice to meet you man, my sister talks about you a lot. Be good to her.” 

“Chan, shut the hell up. Love you both, mwah mwah.” 

“Mingyu if you’re free tomorrow, y/n has a plus one. We’d love to have you.” 

Smiling and whisking Mingyu out of the front door, you began to run together through the light rain falling, two blocks to your apartment. 

“Sorry, my brothers, an idiot.” 

“He seems nice, his wife to be too.” 

You felt your hands shaking in nervousness riding up the elevator to your shared floor. Stepping off and standing in the hallway between your two front doors. 

“Your place or mine?” 

“Well, I picked you up didn't I? Come to mine.” 

Mingyu led you through his familiar front door and helped you out of your wet clothes, throwing them in his washing machine. 

Now standing in his living room, just in your black lace bra and panties, feeling like all those other girls before. Almost in fear of someone knocking to kick you out of his dimmed apartment. 

“Come on.” 

You giggled as he picked up your half naked frame and carried you into his bedroom. 

“Lay down. Off the edge of the bed, trust me.” 

You didn’t say anything just followed his instructions as his fingers came and wrapped themselves around your lace underwear, blowing on your clit with his soft breath as he pulled them down your freshly shaved legs. 

“Fuck.” 

His lips came in contact between your heated center, splitting his kisses between your aching parts and your thighs. 

Your hands working their way through his hair as he used his tongue to work his way around your clit and between your folds, pushing you closer and closer into your own euphoria. 

Maybe you understood why girls didn’t want to let him go, if this was his head game, you can’t even imagine what could come next. 

“You taste so sweet, I should’ve known better to be careful, I might get addicted to you.” 

“Stop with the niceties, Gyu. Can you please fuck me?” 

“Eager are we?” 

“Yes.” 

Mingyu pulled you up by the back of your neck, forcing your head near the top of his dick, waiting for you to wrap your mouth around it and get it sopping wet so he could enter in between your legs. 

“Oh, baby, that feels so good. I love watching you on my dick, but we have to stop before you get me going too much.” 

Your head turned up at him, mascara slightly spilling under your eyes, as you opened your mouth searching for the feeling of his lips on yours, before he planted in on you he spit into your mouth, and inserted himself between the same thighs he was kissing before, slowly entering inch by inch, making you wait to feel him fully inside of you even more. 

“Comfortable, baby?” 

“Yes, faster please.” 

“So polite, but as you said before, leave them wanting more and more. I want you to get riled up.”  

“Yes, sir.” 

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.” 

His thrusting became more rapid with your soft moaning, kissing your neck in the process, riding out your high with you, you felt him begging to slow down as his teeth wrapped around your hard nipples, sucking softly at them. 

“You’re so delicious, I don’t think I can last much longer.” 

“Me either, but it’s only round one.” 

“Do you want to do this again?” 

“Eighteen has always been my lucky number, now fill me up.” 

With your final words, Mingyu rode the rest of his high before finishing inside of you, placing a soft kiss on your perfectly pink lips, and dipping his head back down to your center to clean you up with his mouth. 

“Want to stay?” 

“Is that alright?” 

“Yeah, come on. Let’s shower.” 

The tall man led you into his beautiful marble bathroom and turned the water on in his shower built for two. 

“I meant what I said at the bar, you know. I like being with you.”  

Your long arms reached up to his hair, massaging his scalp with shampoo. 

“I meant what I said too, lucky eighteen.” 

“So I’m your lucky number?” 

“Yes, don’t tell my mom tomorrow.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell her that you called me sir and the ass she gave you is indeed perfect.” 

You planted a soft kiss on his lips, before pushing him back under the warm water of the shower head. 

“I dare you.” 

[gothic-thoughts]

Keep Our Mouths Busy

Sanji Vinsmoke x Black Fem Reader Angst

DomesticAU, ModernAU, Drunk Sanji

CW: Sanji yelling and breaking a bottle, reader has oral fixation, banging on doors, anxiety/stress reliving tactics

TW: drunken anger

Word Count: 1196 (give or take)

Any French translated via DeepL

Sanji came back late at night, slamming the front door closed, startling you out of your sleep. You roll over in your shared bed and go to walk downstairs. You step off the last step into the living room to see his tie and blazer discarded on the floor near the front door and upon hearing soft cursing followed by the sound of glass hitting the marble countertop, you slowly walk to the kitchen.

"Il ne m'écoute jamais, putain(Never fucking listens to me).” He mutters, messily filling a shot glass with whiskey, “Jamais (Never does)." 

The slight sway of his body showed that this wasn’t his first drink of the night. He downs the glass in one gulp before slamming it down next to the bottle of whiskey before he picks it up, looking at the label and scoffing with a sarcastic smirk.

“Great... maintenant, je suis un putain d'ivrogne comme lui (now I’m a fucking drunk just like him)!”

He throws the bottle to the floor, making it shatter against the tile, shocking you out of your drowsiness with a loud yelp from where you stood in the doorway. Sanji turned to face you, leaning back against the counter.

“Have your lost your mind!?” You yelled, staying in the doorway to keep your bare feet from the sharp shards and alcohol littering the floor, “The hell is your problem?!”

“Qu'est ce que tu fais ici (What are you doing here?)”

“Why are you drunk, you were at work!”

He kept staring at you wordlessly, you don’t even think your words were getting through to him in this state. Sanji picked up the shot glass again, taking another sip as if it was still full before slamming it back on the counter. He clearly wasn’t in his right mind so you backed up a little, but he took a step forward, glass crunching under his dress shoes with his eyes still intensely locked on you. He clearly had no idea how scary he looked right now.

"Qu'est que tu veux(What do you want)?”

You back up again, stepping out of the kitchen, “In English, I can’t--”

"I said what do you want?" He snapped, slurring, “Why you down here so early?”

"First of all, Vin, it's 12 am," Your eyebrows raise, “Second who the fuck are you getting loud with?"

He stepped forward again, eyebrows furrowing. "Vin...? What are you talking about? My name is Sanji."

“Not when you're being a dick and breaking shit.”

He squints then struts towards you making you immediately keep your distance with tears burning your eyes, preparing to fall and your heart racing unsure of what he was going to do but he didn’t seem to care if he even noticed. He just followed you backwards, strides longer than yours as you hoped he wouldn’t have to hurt him.

“Tch, you think I’m being a dick?” 

“Yes, you are and I'm calling you your first name until you remember how to act right.”

He stops walking when he notices tears of frustration brimming your eyes, right before you jog upstairs, leaving nothing but the sound of your bedroom door slamming before locking it. He stumbles upstairs, gripping the banister tightly until he reaches the top floor then staggers and throws himself at the door, banging his fists against the door several times.

"Baby, open the door." His voice contrasts with his actions heavily, “C’mon, you can’t just lock yourself in there, open--”

“Stop banging on the fuckin' door before the neighbors call!”

"How was I being a dick, I barely said anything to you!”

"You actin' like you ain't break a whole bottle in my vicinity then walked up on me like we was bouta fight."

“I didn’t, I was just-- I just..."

"Ion even wanna hear what you think you did cuz why else would I be in here?"

"I'm... I’m not...” He stops banging, finally gaining some self awareness as he leans against the door, “I'm... merde, I'm scaring you--"

"No shit, so calm the fuck down."

"You know I’m not mad at you, cheri, right?”

"I'm not asking you what you're mad at, I'm telling you that you need to relax."

You could hear his quiet, shallow breaths almost like he was panting just to calm down. Part of you wanted to help and hold him but you thought it was best to keep your distance until you were sure he was calm. Your heart pounded in chest with each of his breaths until they became deeper and more focused. After a few seconds, he knocks softly with one knuckle like he always did, making you let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Mon chéri... I'm okay, now. You can come on, okay...? Please, I'm calm now."

“You sure?” You ask, despite already being at the door, ready to see a non-threatening expression.

"Yes baby, I promise..." He sighed. "Just come to me, please? I'm sorry."

“When I open the door, I’m finna slap you.”

"You can slap me all you want, chéri, I earned it. Just open the door for me...?"

You unlock and open the door, revealing your tear-streaked cheeks and bloodshot eyes to him as you anxiously chewed on the gold chain hanging loosely around your neck. His eyebrows rise with more worry but as soon as he opened his mouth, you slapped him across the face, turning his head and making his hair flip to the side. He slowly reached up to touch his face, feeling the spot that you had slapped while the necklace fell from your mouth when you opened your mouth.

“I....” You sniffle, “I thought you were going to hit me.”

"No, no! I would never hit you... I would never; why would you ever think that?"

“I-I don't know, you're drunk.” You fumble with the chain again, placing it back in your mouth, “And you smashed a fuckin’ bottle and you were yelling a-and banging on shit so I thought you were mad enough to--”

"To hit you, no. Never. I'm sorry, I was upset and I wasn’t thinking about my movements or tone."

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face a few times. He stepped closer, slowly reaching to cup your face in his shaking hands, looking down at you with sad, apologetic eyes.

"But I would never hit you. Never... Never, baby.”

“I didn't know, you're usually flirty when you're drunk and I just assumed the worst when walked up on me like that.”

"Yeah, I know, but tonight I drank because I was angry, I didn't become it.”

You sniffle a little, trying to get over it but your heart is still racing and he could tell by the way you were still gnawing on your strings so he steps closer and gently pulls your necklace out before replacing it with his middle and ring fingers into your mouth and watching you nibble lightly.

“Don’t like when you chew on your chain, charmant(lovely). Don’t want you breaking it.”

He pulled you into his chest, hugging you while the thumb of his free hand effortlessly caressed up and down the back of your bonnet as he held your head. He kisses your forehead, breath still reeking of whiskey.

"I’d never hurt you." He said quietly against your head, “I’d never, please forgive me, baby.”

You nod against his chest, snuggling closer. After several silent seconds of lightly grazing your teeth just about his knuckles for comfort, you grab his wrist and pull his hand away.

“What even happened?” You ask

“The old man benched me again, this time for the whole shift and we had fight in front of the restaurant. Shouldn’t have taken it out on you though."

[wayward-dreamer]

Pillow Talk

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Reader

Word count: 1,782

Summary: After a stressful meeting lead by Stan Edgar, Y/N looks forward to her other weekly meeting that is far more enjoyable.

Warnings: Swearing, implied smut: oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up people), pillow talk turned dirty talk, vaginal fingering

A/N: I started writing this after that Gen V ep, but a lot of things got in the way of me finishing it. Happy reading, hope y'all like it! :) beta'd by my love @hintsofhoney

Y/N yawned, covering her mouth with her hand as she scribbled random drawings on the paper in front of her with a black pen. She was bored out of her mind as Mr. Edgar addressed everyone in the meeting, something about the latest demographic numbers for the supes and she was meant to be taking notes about it all, but she lost track. Whoever decided it was a good idea to have a meeting at the end of the day on a Friday was an idiot. Another few minutes of this and she could leave, once the clock ticked over to 5pm and the weekend was officially upon them. She kept glancing up at the time, her heeled foot shaking in anticipation for a regular meeting of her own that she was excited to get to.

Ever since Vought’s Christmas party a few months ago, when she caught the attention of Soldier Boy and they spent the night together, she’d leave the Friday meeting, pack up her things and get her night started with him. It was never anything serious between them, just some fun between them every week, and that was exactly what she needed.

A smile came to her face as she got lost in thought about everything he had in store for her, just as Mr. Edgar dismissed everyone for the weekend. She picked up her things and walked out behind all the male employees who she couldn’t stand. She was Mr. Edgar’s assistant but there were times that she was forced to do tasks some of the other suits wanted her to do, no matter how much she protested. They were all arrogant, entitled assholes who only wanted one thing when they looked at her, and even though Soldier Boy was no different because he also was a man of his time, at least he never pretended to be anything else around her.

Y/N walked back to her desk and put everything on top, ready to collect once she decided to leave, before she made her way down the hallway towards the loft apartments where the supes resided. She stopped in front of the door marked with “Soldier Boy” in gold letters, turning the knob and letting herself in, which was what she always did considering the door was unlocked after 5pm just for her. As she strolled into the apartment, she unbuttoned and took off her gray blazer, draping it over the back of one of the armchairs, smiling at the sound of a Sinatra song coming from the record player in the corner.

“Right on time,” she heard his deep, rough voice enter the room as he walked from his bedroom to the bar.

She turned around, a shiver running down her back as she took in his appearance. “I’m nothing if not punctual.”

Soldier Boy smirked as he poured a generous amount of whiskey into two tumblers, moving out from behind the bar as he sauntered over to her, his suit unzipped and revealing the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath. He swiped something off the surface before he stood in front of her, handing her a glass.

“After the day I’ve had, I really need this,” she said, turning the tumbler around in her hand. “Cheers.”

He clinked his glass against hers, a grin on his face as he watched her take a few sips. He held up the small, plastic bag with a handful of pills inside, waving it in front of her eyes which had her pause drinking, their gazes locked on each other.

“Anything else you really need?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her mouth opening slightly.

They kept their eyes on each other as he took out two of the small, round tablets from the bag. She stuck her tongue out a little, making him groan at the sight as he placed one of the pills on it, watching her swallow it down and taking a sip of her whiskey. He continued to stare at her as he tossed the tablet back with a swig of his drink, frowning as he saw her put her now empty glass down as she began to unbutton her blouse.

“You know that’s my job, doll,” he husked, his eyes darkened as he looked at her. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

He wasted no more time as he threw back the rest of the amber liquid, tossing the glass behind him and hearing it shatter, unbothered by the scattered pieces across the floor. He moved towards her, pulling her roughly into his arms as he pressed his lips to hers, the kiss as searing and erotic as all their previous encounters. He grasped her shirt in his hands, ripping it down the front, a squeal escaping her as the buttons flew everywhere. By now he usually had her on the bed, on her back with her legs thrown over his shoulders, but he had other plans for her as he pushed her down on the sofa. The fingers of one hand curled into the leather as the other moved between the soft locks of his hair, his head between her thighs and making her come undone in no time at all as she screamed his name and covered his mouth in her arousal.

Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, Soldier Boy gathered her in his strong arms and carried her over to the dining table, roughly dropping her down on the surface as their hands frantically pulled off the rest of each other’s clothes. With her back meeting the cold wood of the table and her legs wrapped around his waist, she moaned wantonly as he thrusted into her, moving faster and harder with every mutter of his name from her lips. It wasn’t long before she reached the peak for a second time, a giggle of disbelief leaving her as she came down from her high.

They made it to the bed eventually. With one last release from her triggering his, they came together as he grunted, a smirk pulling at his lips when he felt the way he spilled inside her walls. He rolled off her, her nimble fingers plucking the sheet up and pulling it over them, just as he reached for the cigarettes on his nightstand. He took one out of the pack and placed it between his lips, picking up his lighter and flicking it, bringing the small flame to the tip. He took a long drag before he blew it out, closing his eyes in satisfaction as he felt Y/N take the cigarette from between his fingers. As he opened them, he turned to look at her, watching the way she held it between her own fingers, the way her lips closed around the filter.

“Well, you really know how to take my mind off things, that’s for damn sure,” she stated, laughing softly as she placed the cigarette in the ashtray that sat on the nightstand.

“It’s a fucking gift,” he grinned. “Better take a breather, ‘cause I ain't done with you yet, sugar.”

She smiled, a small sigh escaping her as she thought back on the day. “It’s a good thing we keep this little rendezvous of ours on a Friday because those meetings are slow, agonizing torture.”

“I’m guessing it was a meeting with Stan?” he asked, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her neck.

“Yeah,” she replied, a small gasp falling from her lips as he continued to nip at her skin. “He just stresses me out about everything.”

She tried to resist him as he nuzzled at her neck, trying to move further down, but she eventually gave in with a low moan. Her eyes closed as her head fell back against the pillow, feeling his lips move down her collarbone and pull the sheet down, exposing her breasts to him. Her eyebrows furrowed as he nipped and sucked at her flesh, his tongue circling over her nipple.

“Handling the supes is getting to be too much as well, thanks to him,” she muttered, biting down on her lip as she tried to move away from him.

She could feel herself getting lost to his skillful tongue and fingers, but the second round he was trying to start needed to wait. She was only human, and didn’t have the same stamina he had as a supe.

He lifted his head, releasing the stiff bud with a wet pop, staring down at her. “Even me?”

“Especially you,” she countered, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he began, his signature smirk on his face as his hand drifted down under the sheets, moving between her legs and feeling how wet she was again. Their eyes locked as he teased her folds with his fingers, causing her to gasp and a deep, rough chuckle to escape him as he didn’t take his gaze off her. “I think you’re pretty fucking capable of handling all of me.”

“Stop,” she giggled, trying and failing to push him away.

“You’re the one who can’t stay away, doll.”

“Maybe I should,” she challenged, lifting an eyebrow as she looked up at him.

Soldier Boy’s green eyes darkened with lust, and something else she had no desire to identify. A short gasp of pleasure escaped her as his thumb brushed over her clit, his intense stare never leaving her as the digit circled around the bundle of nerves. Her eyes fluttered closed as a long, drawn out moan left her mouth, his fingers sinking into her tight heat.

“See… if you did that, then you wouldn’t be right here, with my fingers fucking into your tight little pussy,” he grunted, his jaw tight as he looked down at her through hooded eyes.

Y/N didn’t recognize the sound she made as he started to thrust his fingers into her, maybe it was a moan, but it was a shrill cry, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was giving into him once more. As she always did whenever she found herself back here, every single Friday.

“You always come back to a little… pillow talk, don’t ya, sugar?”

The words were just above a whisper, the rough timbre of his voice causing a shiver to run down her back as she wrapped her arm around his neck, holding onto him as she nodded, letting him pleasure her in every way he wanted. He knew she had only been teasing him when she said she’d stay away from him. They both knew her resolve wasn’t that strong.

She wasn’t going to give up this little ritual of theirs any time soon.

[narcissisticmf]

give in | bucky barnes x fem!reader

description: during a mission, y/n and bucky must appear as though they are romantically together despite their true hateful feelings towards one another.

trigger warnings: fake dating, enemies to lovers, foul language, seductive behavior, sexual content, oral sex, unprotected sex, praise, a lot of tension, gun usage, knife usage, graphic violence, etc. please do not proceed in reading if you are under the age of 18. thank you.

word count: 2.6k

Sat in the back of the Quinjet, you were getting an outfit put together against your body; a skin tight black dress that revealed your curves perfectly. Your eyes gazed into the mirror as you looked at your reflection, applying a thin layer of red lipstick to your mouth. Your hair was pinned back and a silver chain laid around your neck.

The Quinjet rumbled against your feet, you were wearing pumps. It was difficult to stand in them for a while, your feet begun to ache, but you swallowed the pain as though it was just a thick pill.

You were to attend a private party to retrieve some stolen serums by Hydra. Bucky would be your second, to assist you in the retrieval. The two of you were to appear at the party as two guests. You and James didn't get along well, for a reason you didn't particularly understand; just that he got under your skin and you got under his.

Hidden in the skirts of your black dress was a dagger strapped to your undergarments. You smirked softly at your reflection and released a breath as the Quinjet finally landed somewhere rural, far from where the party would take place.

You slowly grasped a hold of your hand back, that contained several useful weaponry if needed. You walked past Bucky without making direct eye contact with him. He was dressed in all black, his hair was slicked back and slightly longer than you remembered and the stubble across his jawline looked freshly trimmed. He was.. he was..

Handsome. Divinely handsome.

Swallowing hard, you sensed Bucky was following you as you exited the Quinjet to walk towards the black car that was parked not far from the landing site. The backseat door opened for you by the driver. You slipped inside and sat with perfect posture and eventually Bucky climbed in after you. He sat with a fair distance as the driver shut the door.

.

Slowly stepping out of the car, you accepted the help of the driver by taking his hand and standing upon the pavement. You waited for Bucky to step out and when he did, you finally stared up to him.

He held out his metal arm — that was covered by a black blazer and his hands were concealed by gloves to disguise his true identity. He waited for you to lock it with his. You stared at his arm for a moment before slowly slipping your exposed arm into his.

"For this to work," Bucky whispered and lifted your chin to meet his eyes, "We must appear madly in love."

You exhaled softly, almost inaudible, "No problem."

The corner of Bucky's lips curved into a grin as the two of you walked towards the entrance. In order to gain entree, you and Bucky gave false names that were in the list of invitees. The whole time, your heart was pounding. Your face concealed that completely; not once showing an ounce of nervousness or anxiety.

Bucky kept close beside you. Your eyes bounced about the large ballroom. You tried to remember where the serums were kept hidden from what Tony and Steve instructed earlier in the week and the map they showed both you and Bucky.

If memory served you right, the serums were locked in a safe several floors below.

Your eyes locked with a man by the bar, sipping a glass of whiskey slowly. His dark eyes remained on you firmly. You slowly turned to face Bucky, so close that it seemed to fluster you.

"That man at the bar," You whispered, "I think he's Hydra."

Bucky kept his gaze on you, though you sensed he could see the man at the bar out of the corner of his eye. "Should we make him uncomfortable for staring?" He smirked slowly.

"What?" You parted your glossy lips and felt Bucky's breath against your mouth; you could almost taste it. Your body tensed as Bucky's arms snuck around your waist, pulling you in tightly. You felt your breath caught in your throat at the motion and how his hands felt against your sides. He squeezed softly, causing your knees to buckle. It was a good thing he held you.

"Give into it, sweetheart," Bucky whispered.

"Give into what?" You challenged, feeling your nose brush against his cheek; not purposefully.

Bucky eyes locked with yours as his lips slowly pressed against your mouth, enclosing whatever distance remained between you. Your body tensed at first, your core pulsed with adrenaline. It didn't take long before you gave into it. You found your lips entwined with Bucky's, tasting every inch of his breath; mint. Gaining some form of confidence and control, your hands found their way up to his face, cupping his jawline and cheeks.

Your eyes were closed as you fell into his chest, body growing weak. Slowly, he pulled back and found his gaze on you for a while. You breathed heavily, making a horrible attempt to keep it quiet. His eyes flicked upward, behind you, to see the man was gone.

"He's gone," Bucky spoke lowly.

You nodded slowly and pulled back just a few inches. A thought crept your mind as you smirked and tugged Bucky through the crowd of people dressed elegantly. You made your way towards the elevator. You didn't need to see Bucky's face to know he also had a coy smile on his lips.

Pressing your fingers to the button against the wall, you turned back to Bucky to press a hungry kiss to his mouth. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. Perhaps, he was expecting it. You held onto the collar of his black shirt and as soon as the elevator doors opened, the two of you stumbled inside. Without parting from his mouth, you reached back to press the correct floor where the stolen serums were hidden.

Nobody paid heed to the two of you. Who would? You were simply two individuals in need of the other.

Once the doors closed and the elevator began to descend, you parted from Bucky. He was breathless and you were too. You leaned against the wall and breathed through your nose, your red painted lips smeared only slightly. Bucky stood a foot or two from you, staring at the elevator doors.

"Think they bought that?" Bucky questioned with a slight chuckle in the back of his throat.

"I think so," You nodded.

Once the doors opened, you swiftly pulled out your dagger from under the skirt of your dress and saw several agents of Hydra surrounding the safe in which the serums were locked in.

Bucky smirked as he stood beside you and pulled out a handgun that he kept smuggled in the back of his pants. The two of you walked out of the elevator with complete ease and smoothness.

"Hey! You're not supposed to be down here!" One of the men shot you and Bucky a look of annoyance. When you and Bucky didn't cower, he knew who you both must've been. There were six men; three each for you and Bucky.

You made haste and quickly used your dagger to slice an agent in the thighs, causing him to falter to the ground in pain. One of them grabbed your arm and made a fist with his free hand. You smiled and kicked the heel of your pump into his groin. Watching him sink to the ground, you made your way for another and used the hilt of your dagger, striking the man in the chest.

Bucky wasn't going to use his weapon unless he truly needed to. He was swift and confident with his strikes. Eventually, you both had all six of them against the floor.

"Lovely," You spoke dryly and made your way to the safe. This part was all Bucky; all he needed to do was use the strength of his arm to break open the metal.

You retrieved all of the stolen serums and shoved them into your handbag before casually leaving the party.

.

In your bedroom of the compound, you used a wipe to remove the layers of cosmetics that were upon your face. You had a long shower once the makeup was off and stood before your mirror, applying lotion to the dry parts of your skin. You wore a light pink silk robe to cover your naked body beneath.

A knock was heard against your door. You slowly stopped what you were doing and led yourself to the wooden door, opening it slightly to reveal Bucky.

"May I help you?" You questioned, with slight condescension.

Bucky swallowed, his throat bobbed. Your gaze softened as he appeared.. nervous. He slowly entered the room and you allowed him, not fighting or challenging him in such a state. He latched the door shut behind him and stared at you, his gaze flickered to your lips.

"What are you doing–" You started, but were interrupted by his mouth on yours. You didn't fight it and allowed him to slip his arms around your waist, squeezing your curves perfectly. Your hair was still damp from the shower as he gripped the back of it firmly, slowly pulling your head back.

"I can't get you outta my head, doll," Bucky breathed out desperately. You stared at him, not once breaking eye contact. "That sweet scent of yours.." He lowered his head to your neck, taking in a breath of the vanilla soap you used from the shower. "And the way you taste," He raised his head and attached his lips to yours once more. Bucky groaned at the flavor of your lipbalm.

It wasn't long before he had your back against the large bed of yours. Your hands were in his hair, gently tugging at the ends of it. He slowly rocked his hips into yours as you moaned shakily against his mouth.

"Wanna get this off you.." Bucky whispered gesturing to the robe you had on, grasping a hold of the knot at the front. "May I?" He asked, looking into your eyes.

"Yes," You nodded and he made haste, swiftly untying the knot and pulling it from your body. He tossed it to the carpet floor and smiled down at you. You had absolutely nothing on underneath that robe. His large hands made contact with your skin. The cold metal of his left hand made you shiver softly, a smile against your mouth.

"Your turn," You breathed out, gesturing to his clothes.

As quickly as he removed your robe, he undid his pants, yanking them off with ease. He became completely uncladded before you. You took the opportunity to admire how truly beautiful he was. Perhaps, in the past, you hadn't taken the time to notice how perfect he was.

His lips collapsed into yours. He was hungry. You released a breath just before he found his mouth on yours. You arched your back so that your breasts were pressed up against his chest. Bucky smiled into your mouth and firmly pushed your hips down against the mattress.

"Patience," He whispered into your ear and let his teeth gently toy with your lobe.

You nodded slowly and breathed out as his lips came into contact with your neck. You exhaled and leaned your head back, trying to suppress the moans that were threatening to come out of you.

"Do you still hate me, Y/N?" Bucky mumbled against the skin of your throat.

"Yes," You shakily breathed out.

Bucky smiled and used his metal fingers to cup your breast. You whined in response and closed your eyes. His mouth pressed to your nipple, letting his tongue swirl and mouth suck on the sensitive skin. You curled your toes in response, grasping the sheets with one hand and with the other you entangled your fingers in the back of his hair.

He hummed at the feeling your hardened nipple against his tongue. You felt your core pulse and arousal begun to stick to your inner thighs.

Bucky used his metal fingers to run down your stomach, sides and hips. You shivered at the cold feeling.

"How about now, sweetheart?" Bucky raised his head to watch your face. "Do you still hate me now?" He slipped his metal hand between your legs and dragged them up and down your entrance, the wetness coated his hand.

"No," You opened your eyes and shook your head, staring at him as your chest rose and fell rapidly. He slipped a finger inside as you opened your mouth to moan softly. As quickly as your eyes opened, they closed to soak in the feeling of that cold metal pumping in and out of you. You spread your legs to allow him better access. You didn't realize it, but he started lowering himself. He took in the scent of your arousal and hummed with a soft smile.

Bucky pulled your metal fingers out and replaced them with his mouth between your legs. You whined audibly and reached down to entangle your fingers in his hair. He opened his eyes to stare up at you, watching the way your body reacted to his motions.

The way your back arched at each flick of his tongue and the way your grip in his hair tightened the deeper he pushed his face in.

You couldn't deny the reactions your body was having even if you tried. Bucky knew exactly what he was doing and took note of what felt good for you.

"I wanna be inside you, Y/N," Bucky pulled his head back slightly and kissed your inner thighs. He rose his body up to press kisses along your lower stomach, humming softly as he did so.

You pulled him up to your face and kissed his lips deeply, tasting yourself against him. You parted your legs as a way to signal that you wanted him inside you as well. He smiled into your mouth and held your thigh firmly with his metal hand.

Slowly, he guided himself inside you. You wanted to scream and rip the sheets with how tightly you gripped them. Your eyes filled with tears at how amazing he felt and fit inside you.

"You feel amazing, sweetheart," Bucky pressed his lips to your mouth. You reached your hands up to drape around his neck, gently squeezing his skin, unable to contain how good he felt.

"Oh God, Buck.." You whispered, moaning into his ear. He rocked his hips, moving in and out of you with ease. You were so comfortable with him.

"Such a good girl," He whispered darkly into your ear, "Taking me so well." You arched your back and whined at his words. You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to stay as close against him as possible.

It wasn't long before the knot in your stomach slowly came undone.

"Oh, Y/N.. I can feel that," Bucky moaned and kissed you deeply. "You gonna come around me?" You pressed your lips into his harder to muffle the screams you wanted to let out. You reached a pinnacle and slowly pulled your lips back from his.

Bucky slowly pulled from inside you and released his load against your stomach. You arched your back and moaned at the intoxicating feeling of his release against your skin. It was oddly cold.

You were breathless and tired. Bucky was also as he laid beside you. You laughed nervously and turned your head to press a longing kiss to his lips.

"Happy you finally gave into it?" Bucky smirked into your kiss.

You smiled and pulled back, "Yes, are you?"

His smile said enough.

.

a/n: im so sorry i haven't been as active on here!! i've been doing a lot of reading lately more so than writing! also how would yall feel about some acotar fics?? ehh?? maybe?? i've been really thinking about writing some azriel fics! if that's something you guys wanna read, please let me know! i love you guys mwah! — angelina.

[librababe99]

The Mutant's Serenade

cw: Young! Charles Xavier, Fem!Reader, reader has mutant abilities, themes of vulnerability, emotional struggles, kissing  word count: 3.1K  summary: Two unique souls discovering they might just be each other’s missing piece.....

A/N: We're back with another Young Charles fic! While the previous story was a standalone I kept the reader's mutant abilities the same...sooo this could be a continuation of that 'little universe.' Please feel free to comment, like and reblog! Happy Reading <3

(Healing Touch) | (Marvel Masterlist)

The warm glow of dim lights reflected off the polished bar countertop, casting long shadows in the darkened corners of the room. The air was thick with the sounds of soul music and the low hum of casual conversation. The venue was a cozy, almost clandestine spot hidden away in a forgotten part of New York City, where mutants and humans alike gathered to blend into the night, away from the world’s judging eyes. You had heard whispers of this place from other mutants, and tonight, you had finally decided to step inside and see if the rumors held any truth.

You leaned against the bar, fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of your glass as your gaze wandered around the room. The amber liquid inside your tumbler sloshed slightly as you shifted, your nerves taut. There was always an undercurrent of tension wherever mutants gathered—fear of being discovered, of being misunderstood. But this place…this place felt different. There was a sense of camaraderie here, a place where one could just be without the weight of society’s expectations.

You took a sip of your drink, the burn of whiskey spreading warmth through your chest. Your power had always been a secret you guarded fiercely, not out of shame but out of necessity. In a world that feared difference, being able to manipulate the emotions of those around you could be both a blessing and a curse. You’d seen how people reacted when they found out, how quickly trust could turn into suspicion. Tonight, though, you weren’t here to influence anyone. You were here to forget for a little while, to lose yourself in the rhythm of the night.

The door to the bar swung open with a soft creak, and despite yourself, your eyes were drawn to the newcomer. A man stepped in, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room with a quiet intensity. He wasn’t like the others. There was something about him—something commanding yet gentle, like he could see right through the crowd and into your soul. He was dressed sharply but not ostentatiously, his blazer fitted to perfection, his shirt open just enough to give him a relaxed, approachable air.

You quickly averted your gaze, heat rising to your cheeks as you realized you had been staring. Who was he? You hadn’t seen him in this part of the city before, and you prided yourself on knowing most of the regulars. Something about him screamed that he wasn’t just any ordinary man. But then again, you weren’t just any ordinary woman.

Charles Xavier felt your presence the moment he walked in. It wasn’t just that he sensed you were a mutant—he could feel the pull of your emotions, a subtle thrum in the air that hummed with the complexity of your power. He had been to this bar before, though not often. Tonight, he had come out of curiosity, drawn by the low-level buzz of mutant energy in the area. He wasn’t expecting to meet anyone special. Yet, the moment his mind brushed against yours, a ripple of something unspoken passed between you.

He made his way to the bar, his movements fluid and confident. There was no arrogance in the way he carried himself, but he radiated a sense of control, of quiet power that made those around him take notice. He slid onto the stool next to you, not too close to intrude, but close enough to start a conversation if he chose.

“Is this seat taken?” His voice was smooth, low, and unmistakably British. It sent a slight shiver down your spine.

You glanced up, your eyes meeting his. There was something in his gaze that made your heart skip a beat—an unspoken understanding. He wasn’t like anyone else in the bar, and you knew immediately that he wasn’t just human.

“No,” you said, your voice steady despite the strange flutter in your chest. “It’s all yours.”

He smiled, a small, knowing curve of his lips as if he could read the thoughts swirling through your mind. For a brief moment, you wondered if he could—was he one of those mutants? You had heard of telepaths, of people who could sift through the minds of others as easily as turning a page in a book. It made you uneasy for a moment, but his presence wasn’t invasive. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It was…comforting.

“Charles,” he introduced himself, extending a hand toward you. “Charles Xavier.”

You introduced yourself, shaking his hand. The warmth of his touch lingering longer than it should have. 

He ordered a drink, something simple and classic, then turned his attention back to you. “What brings you here tonight? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the way his gaze seemed to penetrate every layer of your defenses. “Just needed a break from…everything. This place has a certain vibe, you know? It’s nice to be somewhere you don’t have to pretend.”

He nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “I understand that. It’s rare to find places where we can be ourselves without fear of judgment.”

You paused, your pulse quickening. There it was—we. He had revealed what you had suspected from the moment you saw him.

“You’re…like me,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles chuckled lightly, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass before taking a sip. “Yes, in more ways than one, I imagine.”

His admission hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken possibilities. There was something magnetic about him, something that drew you in despite the quiet caution that lingered at the edges of your mind.

“What can you do?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

Charles leaned back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I can read minds, among other things. Telepathy, telekinesis. It’s…a gift I’ve had for as long as I can remember.”

Your breath hitched. He could read minds. Of course, he could. That’s why you had felt so exposed the moment he walked in. Yet, despite that knowledge, you didn’t feel afraid. Instead, you felt drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

“And you?” Charles asked, his voice gentle, as if coaxing the truth out of you. “What is it that you can do?”

You hesitated for a moment, wondering how much you should reveal. But something in his eyes told you that you didn’t need to hide from him. Not here. Not now.

“I can…influence emotions,” you admitted. “It’s not mind control exactly, but I can push people’s feelings in certain directions. Make them feel things more intensely, or calm them down.”

Charles tilted his head, intrigued. “That’s quite the ability. And you’ve mastered it?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Mastered? Not quite. It’s tricky. Emotions are unpredictable, and I’ve learned the hard way that people don’t like the idea of someone messing with their feelings.”

Charles’s gaze softened, his understanding palpable. “It’s a delicate balance, I’m sure. But it’s also a remarkable gift. The ability to touch someone’s heart, even in subtle ways… It’s not something to be taken lightly.”

His words sent a warmth spreading through your chest, not unlike the whiskey you had been sipping. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he made you feel seen, truly seen, that left you momentarily speechless.

“You’re not like most people I’ve met,” you said after a pause, your voice barely audible over the music playing softly in the background.

Charles smiled, his eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place. “Neither are you.”

The conversation flowed easily between you after that, the initial tension giving way to a deeper connection. You talked about your experiences as mutants, the challenges you had faced, the moments of triumph and fear. With each word exchanged, you felt the invisible walls you had built around yourself slowly crumbling. There was something about Charles that made you want to open up, to share parts of yourself you had long kept hidden.

As the night wore on, the bar grew quieter, the patrons thinning out until only a few remained scattered around the room. The music had slowed to a soft, soulful melody, the kind that seemed to wrap around you like a warm embrace.

Charles leaned in closer, his voice low and intimate. “You’re holding something back,” he said gently. “I can feel it.”

Your heart raced, the air between you charged with something electric. “Maybe I am,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

His gaze locked onto yours, the intensity in his blue eyes making your breath catch. “You don’t have to, you know. Not with me.”

For a moment, you were lost in his eyes, in the weight of his words. There was a truth in them, a promise of understanding that made you feel like you could let go, like you could finally be yourself without fear.

“I’ve spent so long trying to control everything,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “My power, my emotions…everything. I don’t know how to just…let go.”

Charles reached out, his hand brushing lightly against yours. The touch was brief, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you, like a spark igniting something deep within.

“Let me help you,” he said softly. His voice was hypnotic, the kind that made you want to trust him, to surrender to the moment.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you considered his offer. It wasn’t just about your powers—it was about letting go of the fear, the control, the constant need to hide. And with Charles, it felt like you could do it.

You took a deep breath, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. But the longer you held Charles’s gaze, the more the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this quiet, intimate moment. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored your own, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe enough to lower your guard.

Slowly, almost cautiously, you reached out and placed your hand over his. The connection was electric, sending a warm shiver up your arm. His fingers curled slightly under yours, as though offering silent reassurance. There was no pressure, no urgency—just the quiet understanding that you didn’t have to carry everything alone anymore.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice soft but resolute.

Charles gave you a small, encouraging smile, the kind that made your chest tighten in the best way. He leaned in just a fraction closer, his presence steady and grounding. “What do you feel right now?” he asked, his voice gentle, as if coaxing you to explore the emotions swirling inside you.

You hesitated for a moment, trying to put it into words. “Nervous,” you admitted, glancing down at your hands. “Excited, too. But mostly…scared. Scared of what I might do if I lose control.”

Charles’s thumb traced small circles on the back of your hand, a soothing gesture that made your nerves settle just a little. “You’re stronger than you think,” he murmured. “Sometimes, letting go doesn’t mean losing control. It can mean trusting yourself—and those who care about you.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Trust wasn’t something you gave easily, not after everything you had been through. But with Charles, it felt different. There was a calmness about him, a confidence that made you believe, for just a moment, that maybe you could let go without everything falling apart.

You took another deep breath, letting your emotions rise to the surface. Slowly, you let down the walls you had so carefully built around your powers, allowing the energy within you to hum freely. It wasn’t much—just a gentle push of emotion, like the flutter of wings—but it was enough for Charles to feel it.

His breath hitched slightly, and for a moment, his expression softened even more. He didn’t need to say anything. The subtle shift in the atmosphere between you told you everything you needed to know.

“You’re doing beautifully,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. There was something intoxicating about the way he made you feel so powerful yet so vulnerable at the same time. Like you didn’t have to choose between the two—you could be both.

But as the emotions flowed freely, you felt something else stir deep inside you. The air between you grew heavier, charged with a different kind of energy. It was no longer just about control or fear. It was about the pull of something deeper, more primal. The quiet intensity in Charles’s eyes told you that he felt it too.

You swallowed hard, the space between you suddenly feeling too small, too intimate. Your heart pounded in your chest, your pulse quickening as you realized how close you were to him. The heat of his body, the soft scent of his cologne—it was all so overwhelming in the best possible way.

“Charles,” you breathed, his name slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. There was a fire there, a desire that mirrored your own. And for a brief, suspended moment, the world seemed to slow, the sounds of the bar fading into the background until all that remained was the thrum of your heartbeat and the unspoken connection between you.

Without thinking, you leaned in, your face inches from his. The tension in the air crackled, every nerve in your body alive with anticipation. You could feel his breath on your skin, warm and steady, as if he were waiting—waiting for you to make the first move.

And then, almost imperceptibly, you closed the distance.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative and sweet, as if testing the waters. But the moment your lips touched his, something ignited. The gentle brush of his mouth against yours sent a rush of heat through your veins, and before you knew it, the kiss deepened. It was as if all the emotions you had been holding back—fear, desire, longing—came flooding to the surface, overwhelming you in the best possible way.

Charles’s hand slipped to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling gently in your hair as he pulled you closer. The kiss was slow but intense, every movement deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every second. You felt his control, the way he held back just enough, letting you set the pace while guiding you with a quiet, unspoken power.

Your heart raced, your mind spinning as the world around you seemed to disappear. It was just you and him, wrapped in a bubble of heat and longing. His lips were soft, warm, and impossibly perfect against yours, and the way he kissed you—like he had all the time in the world—made you dizzy with want.

You didn’t realize how much you had needed this until that moment. The intimacy, the connection, the feeling of being truly seen by someone who understood you in ways no one else ever could.

When you finally pulled away, your breath was ragged, your skin flushed. Charles’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed, as if he were savoring the moment as much as you were. For a few heartbeats, neither of you said anything, the silence between you filled with the heavy rhythm of your breathing and the pounding of your heart.

Finally, Charles opened his eyes, his gaze locking onto yours. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice low and a little breathless.

You nodded, unable to find the words to articulate how you were feeling. Instead, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumb brushing softly against his cheek. The vulnerability in his eyes took you by surprise—it mirrored your own in a way that made your chest tighten.

“I’m more than okay,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Charles smiled, the kind of smile that made your heart flip in your chest. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back slightly to look at you again.

“There’s something between us, isn’t there?” he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw with a featherlight touch. “Something more than just…power.”

You swallowed hard, your heart skipping a beat at the truth of his words. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “There is.”

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the weight of the unspoken connection hanging in the air between you. It was more than just physical attraction—though that was undeniable. It was deeper, more profound. It was as if, in each other, you had found something you hadn’t even realized you were searching for.

“I’ve spent a long time feeling like I didn’t belong,” you admitted quietly, your gaze dropping to your hands. “Like no one could understand what it’s like…to be different.”

Charles’s fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re not alone anymore,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “I see you. I understand you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, not because of the sentiment, but because you believed him. There was a sincerity in his voice that made you feel like, for the first time in your life, you didn’t have to hide anymore.

Before you could respond, Charles leaned in again, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that was more tender than before. It wasn’t filled with the same urgency or heat—this kiss was about something deeper. It was about trust, about vulnerability, about letting go.

And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to do just that.

As the kiss deepened, your powers stirred again, this time more controlled, more purposeful. You let your emotions flow into him, feeling the way his own desires echoed back through the connection. There was something almost overwhelming about the intensity of it, but instead of pulling back, you leaned into it, letting yourself feel everything—every heartbeat, every breath, every moment of raw, unfiltered emotion.

When you finally broke the kiss, the two of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you caught your breath. The world around you felt different now—brighter, more alive.

“I think,” Charles murmured, his voice low and teasing, “that we’re going to have a very interesting future together.”

A slow smile spread across your lips, your heart racing at the promise in his words.

[sweetlummie]

Doll

Tysm to @aurorawritestoescape for this amazing moodboard!! Ilysm my sweetest heart!!! 💗💗

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

A/n: ANOTHER PEDRO CHARACTER‼️‼️🗣️🗣️ Something soft n sweet and not smutty just to dip my toe into this pond! I hope you all enjoy!! ALSO sapphires come in different colors not just blue! :) Not proofread so any and all mistake are mine!! As always feel free to leave constructive criticism. Likes, comments, and reposts are appreciated 🫶🫶🫶💗

Warnings: Whiskey being a jerk to women, mentions of deceased loved one

W/c: 1.7k+

* ・‥…━━━━━━━ *˖◛⁺♡ ━━━━━━━…‥・

Jack Daniels, better known as Agent Whiskey, wasn't one for relationships. After his high school sweetheart died, his need or want for love died along with her. Of course like any man with needs he would often fuck around. It was meaningless one night stands, just to satiate his lust. He was sure to let whoever he was fucking know that there were no strings attached and he didn’t want a relationship. He broke countless hearts and even some women from the office quit once he rejected them, he simply didn’t care.

That’s what happened to the last receptionist. He swooped in and began to woo her with his southern charm just to get her in bed and he had accomplished his feat. They slept around for a few months before she caught feelings. One night after they had sex, she confessed and he laughed. “Sorry sweetheart, don’t want ya like that. You’re only good to me in my bed when you’re moanin’. Don’t need ya for anythin’ else. Now get.” He told her harshly, essentially laughing in her face. After that she quit, no two week notice or anything. Simply never came back.

Today the new receptionist was supposed to begin. He didn’t care who you were, he wasn’t interested in getting to know you. He would simply play nice, woo you, and fuck you. The same as he’d done with other women. As he sat in his office reviewing mission files Champ knocked on his door. “Come in.” Whiskey looked up from the files. “Ah, what can I do ya for Champ?” He spoke as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “New receptionist started today. Don’t be a jerk and make this one quit, alright son?” Champ said with a smirk even though he was serious. Whiskey laughed, “No promises. Anyway reckon I outta introduce myself to the little lady.” He said as he stood up buttoning his blazer, he made his way to the elevator to go to the first floor where you were at.

Once he reached the floor and the elevators opened, he looked up and the air was taken from his lungs. His eyes widened, his jaw nearly dropped, he swore he heard a choir of angels singing as he laid eyes upon you. He clutched his chest, this feeling was foreign. He swore he could never feel what he felt ever again.. What was happening? He had never felt this way for any other women except his wi- no. He can’t feel this way, he won’t feel this way. He knows you can only fall in love once and he already was in love, this isn’t possible.. Right? He was probably having a stroke or a heart attack, yeah, that sounds about right.

You felt the sensation of someone staring at you so you looked up from your computer and saw Agent Whiskey standing in front of the elevator, looking at you while clutching his chest. You had a look of concern etched on your face. You quickly got up and made your way over to him. “Agent Whiskey? Are you okay?” You spoke softly as you walked toward him.

He looked you up and down and internally groaned. You were so curvy and your rolls were so cute to him. You were far different from the women he used to bring home. And your voice- it was like honey, like silk, like the sweetest sugar. There was no denying it he was so fucked.

He cleared his throat and straightened out, flashing a smile. “I’m alright sugar, jus’ had a lil’ heartburn. Thank ya for checkin’ up. You’re new around here ain’t ya?” When he confirmed he was alright you smiled and nodded. “Yes sir! I’m the new receptionist!” You sure were a bubbly thing, your smile contagious. Whiskey kept his smile, but this smile was genuine and he genuinely was interested in the things you said, he clung onto the words you spoke like you were giving him oxygen to breathe. “I see, got a name lil’ lady?” He placed his hands on his hips as he looked down at you. You told him your name and chuckled. “Very pretty name, I must say you’re a pretty lil’ thing.” He flirted, which shocked you. Agent Whiskey was an attractive man and you had high confidence but men rarely openly complimented or flirted with you. “Oh, thank you! You’re not too bad yourself.” You chuckled, Whiskey was about to make a risky move but he didn’t care, he had come to terms with it. He wanted you, actually wanted you. Not for a fling, not to get in your pants, he truly wanted you. “Are uh, are ya doin’ anythin’ later tonight doll?” he asked, you shook your head, “No, why?” Now was his chance. “There’s this lil’ burger joint ‘round here that’s like a vintage diner.. Maybe ya wanted to, I dunno come out with me there for dinner?” He asked as he looked into your eyes, they were so beautiful to him. Like two sapphires shining in the moonlight. You smiled and bit your bottom lip. “Sure! I’d like that Agent..” He exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and he had the biggest grin on his face. “Alright then.. I’ll come down here after hours an’ I’ll pick ya up to take ya to the diner.”

Once back in his office Whiskey couldn’t believe what happened. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that would happen. As he sat down on his chair he thought about his deceased wife. She would’ve wanted him to move on… truth be told she was probably disappointed in how he had treated women and discarded them like they were nothing. It was time for him to start anew with you. He wouldn’t mess this up, he owes it to you and his wife to at least try to make this work.

Surprisingly the time goes by fast for both you and Whiskey. You both busied yourself in your work which made time fly. Before you knew it Whiskey was already descending the elevators on his way to your desk. You logged off the computer and collected your things. “Hey doll.” His thick, rich southern voice drew. You looked over at him, “Hi Whiskey!” He grinned, “Please doll, call me Jack.” He held out his arm for you to take, ever the gentleman.

As you both left the building he held the door open for you and when you got to his vintage Ford Bronco, he held the door open for you as well. Y’all hadn’t even gotten to the diner and already this date was going super well. Once you both were inside and buckled up he pulled out of the parking lot and drove through the Kentucky streets to take you to the diner.

After y’all arrived and he parked he helped you out of the vehicle and escorted you inside. The place was so cute, it looked like it was out of a movie in the 50’s with all the vibrant colors and lights that surrounded the area. You both were seated in a booth and you looked around in awe. Whiskey couldn’t help but smile at how adorable you looked as you took in your surroundings.

“Ya like it doll?” He asked as he leaned back in the booth, draping his arm on top of the booth he was sitting in. You looked at him with the biggest smile. “Uh huh! It’s so cute! This place is amazing!” He was pleased that you liked this place. “Glad ya think so.”

When the waitress came and took their orders Whiskey got a bacon cheeseburger with a coca-cola. You got a regular cheeseburger with a strawberry milkshake. While you waited on the food you both chatted for what seemed like hours. The conversation flowed so naturally between you both, it was as if you’ve known each other for years. Whiskey himself thought about how he could listen to you yap forever and he’d never get bored or annoyed with you. He was truly a man in love.

Once your food came you both ate, the food was so yummy! You shared your burger and milkshake with him and he shared his burger with you. Whiskey watched at how cute you looked with your chubby cheeks filled with food, he could get used to this sight every day. If there was one thing Whiskey learned today was that maybe you can fall in love more than once and that was okay. He knew he wanted to be the one that you woke up next to and would fall asleep next to as well, he wants to be the one who sees you at all hours of the day. Hell he even wants you to carry his children and carry his last name. His late wife could never be replaced but he didn’t see you as a replacement, he saw you as someone who was slowly healing him and helping him move on.

When you both finished your food, he paid and drove you home, the ride was filled with a nice comfortable silence. Once he pulled up to your place, he got out and opened the door for you so you could exit his vehicle. He then walked you to your door. Before you opened the door, you turned to look at him, a small shy smile on your face. “Thank you for everything Jack.. I truly enjoyed myself.. I hope we can do this again soon.” Whiskey looked down at you with a soft smile on his lips. “Glad you enjoyed yourself.. I did too.. Of course, this ain’t a one time thing baby. I wanna keep seein’ ya.” You nodded and leaned in, placing a soft, gentle kiss on his plush lips. He held you there for a while before you both pulled away. “Kay.. Night Jack, see you tomorrow..” You said as you entered your house. As you shut the door Whiskey stood there, bringing his fingers to his lips, still feeling the phantom feeling your lips left on his. He made his way back to his Bronco, maybe his wife sent you to come to his life and make him a better man.. He grinned and began to drive back to his place. He was hopeful that you two would create something beautiful and real together.

* ・‥…━━━━━━━ *˖◛⁺♡ ━━━━━━━…‥・

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f! reader - vol. v

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | photo cred

chapter summary: You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. -- In other words, Joel takes you on your first date. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 8.6k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY (it's happening, folks!) - unprotected sex, please dm if you want specifics but I’m not trying to spoil too much. If you don't want to read the smut, it doesn't happen until about halfway through the chapter. Crying after sex. Angst. FLUFF. Mentions of anxiety & self-doubt, alcohol consumption.  a/n: Help! I can’t stop writing fit checks into this story!! This ended up being insanely horny but also shockingly sweet. I worked way way way too hard on it so please say nice things to me. Might need to take a couple days off because I'm really feeling burnt out. So please enjoy in the meantime.

-May 16, 2003-

Joel doesn’t like lying to Sarah.

Although, he’s not sure that he’s lying to her as much as he is simply….omitting information. Depending on who you ask, that could still be considered lying.

He’s fresh out of the shower when he steps into the living room, fishes through the catch-all basket located just inside the front door, and pockets his wallet and keys.

“Where are you going?” 

Sarah’s lounging on the couch, on her back, one of her hands slung behind her head. There’s a book opened on her lap, but she’s not reading. “You’re all dressed up.”

Joel looks down at his green flannel shirt, tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Truth be told, he’s a little ashamed he doesn’t have anything nicer in his closet. It’s not like he ever has any occasion to dress up, but he’s already feeling self-conscious and being (most likely) underdressed isn’t helping. Based on the very limited information he knows about your past relationships, you’re probably accustomed to crisp dress shirts, ties, blazers. He doesn’t own any of those things — he did, at one point, have the tux from his wedding, but he’d gotten rid of it after the divorce. Every time he saw it in the back of his closet, it made him sick. Regardless, tonight he’d done the best he could otherwise - showered, trimmed his beard, and even dug through his medicine cabinet for an old – probably expired – bottle of cologne. Hopefully it was enough. 

“I’ve uh….I’ve got a date.” Joel says. 

The theme song from That’s So Raven is blaring through the living room, but it immediately cuts out as Sarah presses mute and sits up entirely from her spot on the couch. “Really?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Joel says. “Your uncle is coming over, though, he’s gonna drop me off and then he said he’d take you to the movies.”

As if on cue, he hears Tommy’s truck pull into the drive. “Yes!” Sarah leaps up from the couch. “I have to change first.”

“Hurry up, babygirl, I’m already runnin’ behind,” Joel calls after her. 

Tommy knocks twice on the front door before letting himself in anyways. 

“You’re late,” Joel informs, shutting the door behind him. They should’ve left five minutes ago, and the last thing Joel wants is for you to think he’s not punctual. To be fair, he’s not, and almost never is. But you don’t need to know that….yet. 

“Hello to you, too,” Tommy trails after him into the kitchen. Joel is tempted to chug a beer, or fish the half-empty bottle of whiskey he’s got in the cabinet out to take a shot — just to take the edge off. But he refrains. It wouldn’t be a good look to show up smelling of booze.

“So…who's the lucky lady?” When Joel doesn’t answer right away, Tommy presses. “Come on, Joel, who is it?” 

He contemplates telling his brother the truth, but he doesn’t want to give him the idea that he had taken his advice. He didn’t. Well maybe he did, but he knows Tommy will become insufferable if he finds out. 

“Is it who I think it is?” Tommy asks. “It better be.”

Unfortunately, Tommy knows him too well. They’re brothers, and really, Joel’s first and oldest friend. The answer is written all over his face. 

Tommy grins. “Fucking finally. Oh my god, dude, I thought you’d never-”

“Alright, alright!” Joel interjects, eyes darting nervously up the stairs, where he hears his daughter shuffling around in her bathroom. “Keep your mouth shut, I haven’t told Sarah yet.” 

Tommy raises his hands in defense, but at least seems to understand how serious Joel is. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. Are you excited?��

“Yeah,” Joel looks down at the countertop, and is compelled to be honest with his little brother. “I’m uh….I’m a little nervous, though. Been awhile since I’ve done anything like this.” 

Tommy grows serious. “Do you want my advice?” 

“Yours?” Joel feels like whatever advice he has to offer is likely questionable, particularly with someone like you. “No thanks. I’d rather make a good impression.”

His brother ignores the subtle dig. “You sure? Because unlike you, I actually go on dates. I mean, it’s been what, like….ten years?” He crosses his arms, pretends to think. It’s probably only been a couple of months since the last time Joel took someone out, and Tommy knows it, but he loves to dramatize. “I mean at this stage, you’re basically a born-again virgin. Do you even remember how to put on a condom?” 

Joel crosses his arms and glares at his brother, who begins giggling at his bad joke. “I knew I shouldn’t have fucking said anything to you,” he shakes his head.

“Oh come on Joel, you’ll be fine,” Tommy says. “Really. She’s into you. I could tell when we were all together the other night. Even when I was dancing with her, I kept catching her lookin’ your way…”

“Yeah, well….” Joel rubs the back of his neck to play off the surge of warmth he gets from this information. “Thanks.”

Sarah’s bathroom door opens, and he hears the staccato beat of her sneakers coming down the stairs. Joel points at Tommy one last time. “Not a word, understand?” 

Tommy nods just as she rounds the corner.

“Uncle Tommy!” Sarah raises her hand to give him a high-five, which they both purposely miss so they can collide palms on the downswing, grab each other’s hands and then begin a secret handshake so complex that Joel, who has seen it a thousand times, still doesn’t think he could execute correctly if he tried.

“How’s my favorite niece?” 

“I’m your only niece.” 

“Touche,” they shoot at each other with finger guns before she wraps him in a hug and Tommy presses his nose to the top of her head. Despite the fact that their little routine is costing Joel precious time, almost all the annoyance he’d been feeling with his brother dissipates at the sight.

“We all ready?” Tommy asks her, then points at him. “Don’t want to make this casanova late.”

“Yeah, of course not,” Sarah looks over at Joel with a smile that doesn’t seem entirely sincere. When she was younger and he’d gone on dates, she always had a lot more questions. Who is it? What is she like? When can I meet her? Is she pretty? Over the years, however, she became less and less interested. It was because she was smart, and had caught onto the pattern - he’d go on a date, maybe one or two more, then there’d be a long period of nothing before the cycle repeated itself every couple months. It rarely developed into anything that would concern her, and Joel always kept the details to himself.

While they’re en route to the restaurant – a little French bistro that had opened up recently — Sarah and Tommy bicker about what movie they want to see.

“I wanna see Holes. I just read the book.”

Tommy grimaces. “What about Matrix Reloaded? It just came out.”

“I already told dad I’d go to that with him.”

“So?” he looks between Sarah and Joel. “Why can’t you just see it twice?”

“No,” Sarah says emphatically. “I have to see it with dad first. It’s not fair.” 

Tommy groans, mutters under his breath. “I can’t believe you let her watch that crap,” as if he wasn’t about to do the same thing.

“She likes it,” Joel shrugs.

“All the more reason to see it tonight.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns. 

“Fine.”

“I don’t really like it, though. I just like to keep dad company so he doesn’t have to see it alone.”

“You’re too nice,” Tommy takes a beat. “Are you sure you aren’t adopted?”

“Shut up,” Joel and Sarah answer at the same time, and Joel holds his palm behind him for his daughter to slap. 

Tommy acquiesces, his truck jolting as it pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. Joel’s heart rate picks up immediately. The car rolls to a stop and Joel turns to look at both of them. “Alright, I’ll be home by midnight.”

“Sounds good,” says Sarah. 

“Have fun,” Tommy raises his eyebrows, winks, and thankfully Sarah doesn’t see it, because she’s getting out of the truck to take Joel’s spot shotgun. He makes sure she’s settled with her seatbelt on before he shuts the door.

He isn’t trying to waste time, but Joel watches them pull out of the lot and back onto the street before he goes inside the restaurant. Really, he just needs a minute to collect himself. There’s no good reason for him to be as anxious as he is, he’s already kissed you once, and you had seemed to like it — quite a lot too. For the past week the feeling of your body pressed up against him, legs around his torso, was pretty much all he thought about when his mind wandered. Mostly at night before bed, and even today, in the shower when he was getting ready - just to try and calm down. Even now, the idea leaves him flustered.

Nevertheless, this probably isn’t even technically a first date. He hasn’t had issues speaking to you in the past, so this should be easy. Right? But what if you change your mind? And what if it dawns on you that he’s not your type? Even worse, what if you realize he’s just not good enough? 

Joel forces himself inside before he talks himself out of this. When he enters, he sees you first. You’re across the room, leaning over the small bar where a few other patrons are. Greedily, he takes you in, and it’s easy to trace your figure in the tight black shift dress you’ve got on, sheer black tights underneath. It’s sleek, stylish - not that Joel knows much about that. As usual, you stand out in stark contrast to every other person in the place. He likes it. But he feels underdressed. He’ll look ridiculous standing next to you, and he briefly considers turning around, leaving, and saving himself the embarrassment.  

That’s until you move, angling yourself towards him and scanning the restaurant, an elbow resting on the bar, a hand on your knee. You’re looking for him, waiting for him, and finally, you’re rewarded when your eyes catch. Suddenly, Joel doesn’t care about what he’s wearing. He doesn't care that he’s not good enough. At the very least, he doesn’t have to guess if you’re interested in him anymore, not with how you’re gazing at him — a soft smile and narrowed eyes that betray your enthusiasm. Sure, he's not good enough, but he decides if he’s going to go down in flames, he’ll do it trying to convince you otherwise.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Maybe I should’ve eaten a proper lunch, you think to yourself. You’ve barely touched the drink in your hand, but you’re already starting to feel it. And even though you are the designated driver tonight, for now, the slight buzz is welcome, working to soothe. 

Over the years, you’d been on your fair share of first dates. Unlike most…you don’t hate them. For whatever reason, getting to know new people had always come easy, particularly if they were the right person. Being a lawyer, you had a knack for talking yourself into or out of almost anything. So it was just as easy to let someone know if they weren’t the right person. The best part of first dates, however, was that they lacked all the things you hated — promises, expectations, and conversations that went deeper than general pleasantries. 

So all things considered, you shouldn’t feel as tense as you do right now.

There’s a few factors that might have something to do with it, and your brain turns them over,  biding your time until your date arrives. 

First is the text that sits opened on your BlackBerry.

Dad’s home from the hospital. Doing better. Call when you can. - Vince

Your father has been in and out of the hospital for the last month or so, his health rapidly declining. But every update from your brother, however innocent they may be, feels like veiled threats. You should be here. You should know this. I shouldn't have to text you about it. I can’t believe I’m the only one looking after him. A part of you wants to believe that Vincent wouldn’t play that sort of game with you, but as you’ve gotten older and grown apart, you’d gotten worse at deciphering his motivations. Vaguely, you acknowledge that you could just be projecting, and you are the only one trying to make you feel bad. 

And then there’s Joel. 

He’s running late, you hope, or he’s stood you up. And you have already promised yourself that you’re only gonna wait ten more minutes before heading home with your tail tucked between your legs. The thought of that makes you regret agreeing to this in the first place. You’d already embarrassed yourself the last time you were together, practically begging him to take you on the kitchen countertop, but he’d insisted on doing this right. You should’ve pushed harder because you’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe….a zipless fuck would’ve sufficed. Oh, who were you kidding? You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. 

He knows you better than most first dates do. You’ve told him more about your family, about your fucked up childhood, about your aversion to committed relationships more than any friend you’ve made since moving to Texas. And he listened. It should make you feel better. He knows what he’s getting himself into, and he asked you here anyways. Maybe he’s having second thoughts. 

For what feels like the thousandth time, you check your emails and take a sip of your dirty martini – your preferred vehicle for alcohol consumption. Ultimately, you like the idea of a martini more than the actual taste, but you appreciate how direct they are. You scan the restaurant one last time, doing your best to look casual, like you don’t really care. Like you’re supposed to be there alone. 

But when your head turns towards the entrance, Joel is standing across from you. 

He gives you a bashful smile, one that makes your stomach flip, and makes his way over – though he doesn’t seem to be in a rush. It’s like he knows you’d sit and wait for him for as long as it takes – you would, you will, you are. 

When he finally lands in front of you, one thumb hooked in the belt loop of his dark-wash jeans, he leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek for the briefest moment, and pulls back, looking you up and down. 

“It’s good to see you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly. The term of endearment makes your ears feel hot. You're shocked at the effect he has on you, almost can’t believe it. It scares you, too, but you want to chase the feeling. “You look great.”

“So do you,” because you’re not one to lie. He does. As good as always, but he might’ve trimmed his beard for the occasion and maybe….put on cologne? It’s hard to tell, and in your brief experience being so close to him, he’s always smelled good regardless. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “Can’t count on Tommy to get me anywhere on time.”

“It’s alright,” you say casually, like you hadn’t had your whole exit strategy planned out just minutes ago. “I got to have a drink while I wait. You want something?” you gesture towards the bartender. 

“Sure,” Joel answers. “How about an old fashioned?” There’s no room for him to sit, so he leans next to you, arm on the bartop, invading your personal space while you wait for your table. Your skin buzzes like you’ve never been this close to a man before in your life. Pathetic. 

He orders his drink before he speaks to you again. “Have you been here before?” he asks. 

You shake your head no. “I was planning on coming a couple months ago but….never got around to it.”

“It’s good,” he says. “I’ve been a couple times.”

“Is this where you take all the girls you go out with?” you raise an eyebrow, grateful that your voice sounds even despite the way your blood is fizzing, your heart pumping so fast you can feel it in your ears. 

Joel shakes his head no. “That’s down the street.”

“Oh?” you nod, sip your drink. Whatever buzz you’d been feeling is gone in the wake of adrenaline. “So….why didn’t you take me there, then?”

“It’s not as nice,” Joel smirks, leaning in a little closer – if it were possible. His lips are practically touching your ear, and his voice is raspy for what comes next. “And I’m trying to impress you.” 

“Right,” you can’t help but smile, pulling back so you can lock eyes. He’s so sincere you can’t even think up a clever quip in return. “How thoughtful.” 

He gives you a cheeky grin. You want to touch him, want to hold him, want to fist the front of his shirt or tug on the hair at the back of his neck and stick your tongue down his throat like you aren’t surrounded by an entire restaurant of patrons. 

It’s going to be the longest fucking dinner of your life. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You survive. 

But at a cost. 

And you don’t learn anything new about Joel, except for the fact that your memory hasn’t exaggerated how charming he is, how charismatic, how thoughtful. All the times you’d allowed yourself to daydream about him didn’t hold a candle. Enjoying the meal is difficult, because you just want to get him alone. He can sense it – you’re pretty sure, because he orders himself a coffee after dessert, and sips on it ever-so-slowly, smirking at you over the rim of the mug.

When dinner’s over, you offer to drive Joel home, since he’d gotten a ride here. By this point, the martini is long gone from your system and you sort of want to pour yourself another when you get home. Even if you don’t drink much, the nerves have resurfaced. 

He walks a few paces behind you as you leave the restaurant, taking his time, and you step to your side of the car, making to unlock it – until something grabs your bicep – briskly – and spins you around. 

It’s Joel. He snuck up behind you, you hadn’t heard, and he’s right in front of you now, pinning you between the car and his body, surrounding you entirely. He lifts a hand, cups your cheek, and kisses you. It happens so fast you let out a whimper of surprise – directly into his mouth, but he swallows it down, and cradles you so gently, but still firm. Resolute. I’m not letting you go.

When he pulls back, you notice his cheeks are flushed, ever so slightly. It makes you wonder what you could do to see them get even redder. Your arms have found their way to rest on his shoulders, and you’re boxed in, the handle to your car door digging into your ass. Without a word, just a cheeky grin, he retreats to the passenger's side of the car and gets inside. 

You settle in the driver's seat beside him, and he looks over at you. “Hope that was okay, I couldn’t wait…” he says, almost apologetically. “But I was tryin’ all night to be good.”

“Yeah, well….not much use in that anymore,” you tilt your head. “Do you want to….hang out at my place?”

“Yeah, we can ‘hang out’ at your place,” Joel quips.

Scoffing in mock offense, you offer a retort. “What would you rather me have said? Come over for a nightcap? That’s a little cliche.”

He grimaces, as if he’s in agreement. You continue. “Or would you rather I be more direct? Joel, why don’t you come over so we can have sex?”

That makes him laugh, loudly, and it’s such a warm, comforting sound, you wish you could find a way to capture it and hear it over and over again. “Oh, is that what’s going to happen?” he asks. 

“Guess we’ll find out,” You shrug, trying to play it off, in case you overstepped. Then you focus on putting the keys in the ignition without fumbling. 

It’s not a long drive back to your place, but Joel seems determined to make sure it feels like it is. Either that, or he’s trying to get you to cause an accident. First his hand is resting on the back of your neck, brushing through the hair at the base of your skull. Then it’s on your shoulder, his thumb pressing into your taut muscles. You actually have to bite your tongue so you don’t moan. It’s not even sexual, really, but it just feels good to be touched, especially by him.

Eventually, you hit a stoplight, and while you’re waiting, his hand continues to wander…and comes to rest just above your knee. His hands are fucking huge, first of all, which maybe you’ve noticed before, and there are a few scars and scratches on the backs of his knuckles. It's the weight of it, the warmth of it, the way he’s settled it so casually like it’s nothing – like it belongs there, and he doesn’t even have to ask. Of course he doesn’t. And the confidence, the cockiness. It feels like someone’s taken an arrow to the pit of your stomach, and something thick and hot starts curling down, down, down….

You swallow hard, and he’s looking at you. He doesn’t speak right away, just stares, something dark and unfamiliar in his eyes. 

“I hope I’m doing alright,” voice raspy, low, but still smooth as ever.

Shaking your head, you’re able to surface just enough over the haze of arousal. “You want a performance review?” you tease, giving a small smile. “We should hold off on that until later…” 

That makes Joel laugh again, your stomach flips, and his thumb begins to stroke your kneecap, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh, inching forward to clasp farther inward, nearly grabbing at you, squeezing. The only thing separating his skin from your own is a thin pair of stockings that end dangerously close to where his hand is working. If he finds out that he’s just a few centimeters away from meeting bare skin, you’re afraid of what could happen.

“Joel,” you warn.

“What?” he asks, voice light and innocent.

“You’re distracting me.” 

“You want me to stop?”

No. The light turns green, and you have to hold back the impulse to break every traffic law if it means you’ll get to have him just a second sooner. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“--my room is–” Joel cuts you off with another searing kiss, and it takes a second before you can conjure the self control to pull away again to finish the thought. “--down the hall.” 

“Yeah?” 

He’s got you crowded back against the entry closet of your house, hovering over you, one of his hands bracing itself beside your head, and the other slowly dragging down your body, his lips following….moving down your neck. 

“Uh-huh,” you barely can get it out between strangled gasps for air. 

And then he’s hooking his hands behind your knees. “Are you sure you don’t want, like-” Joel lifts you, and you lock your legs around his torso. “An amaretto or something?”

“No,” he’s gripping on to you so tightly it hurts, but you don’t mind. 

“I could put on….a record-”

“No,” he repeats, and you’re being carried down the hall. 

You hadn’t expected him to pounce on you the instant that you came in through the garage door. Not that you minded. It’s just that usually you’d play it a bit more coy. You’d set the mood, light a candle, have a chat. But, you suppose you don’t need to do anything to get you in the mood. You’re already there. 

Joel’s mouth never separates from you, not until you’re in your room. He’s so sure of himself, you think he might be the type to throw you into the mattress, climb on top of you and rip at the zipper on the back of your dress. But he doesn’t. You’re laid down delicately, like you’re made of glass, and he’s being careful not to break you. 

He weaves his thumb and forefinger around both your wrists, then pulls them up so they’re pinned above your head. This way, you’re completely at his mercy. When he lowers himself between your legs, and you feel the weight of his body pressed against you, you groan, fighting against the restraint, desperate to touch him. So you do the best you can and wrap your stocking-clad feet around his waist, trying to get some leverage, to bring him closer.

“Just wanna take my time with you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly, like he can read your mind. You’re starting to think he can – how else can he be so irresistible on his own accord?

Joel makes good on his promise. With you all docile beneath him, he takes the opportunity to kiss every inch of exposed skin available – even though you’re still fully clothed. Each press of his lips has you breathing unevenly – sighing, then gasping, then sharp, short inhales. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, you can’t help but giggle and quirm. 

Joel huffs in response, releasing you from his hold, and he tilts his head to whisper in your ear. “Do you have any idea how much I like hearing that? Knowing it’s because of me?” Immediately, you lower your hands to cup his cheeks, to regard him. He can’t be serious. 

“You’re too sweet,” you mutter. 

“So are you,” he answers, and ducks his head to return to your neck. “So sweet, and so fucking pretty, too…” His hands begin wandering, one of them cupping your breast, thumb finding a peaked nipple even through the fabric of your dress and your bra. The words he’s saying are too much, you’ll do anything to make him shut up, arching your back so you can feel him – already hard – against your clothed core. 

“Joel-” 

“God, I want to see you-fuck!” he pulls back, rolls you over, and you shift your weight so he has access to the dress’ zipper at your side. He makes quick work of it, and brings you to a seated position, helping you remove it all the way before kissing you again, then abruptly stopping. He wants you so badly….but he’s trying to savor the moment. “Let me look at you for a second.”

He takes you in, the stockings you’re wearing and the matching set of black lace you’d picked out beforehand. Of course, you’d thought about this. You always did for occasions like this, but Joel had stumped you. What would he like? This….was pretty understated, but he seemed like a salt-of-the earth guy. Not what you were used to. It probably wouldn’t make a difference whether or not you were in full-on lingerie. And even if you knew he wouldn’t care, you still had wanted to impress him. All the more reason to try.

“This for me?” he asks, hooking his finger on the inside of your stockings and snapping the elastic. 

“Yeah,” you nod, honest. “I want you, Joel.” And there’s more to it, too. You’ve thought about just how badly for months. It kept you up at night, then helped you fall asleep when you couldn’t shake his image from your head. For now, you are going to keep that to yourself. But it doesn’t mean it’s not gonna slip out. Not when he’s looking at you like this. 

“Yeah?” he says, steps forward, towers over you. “I want you, too, so fuckin’ bad. So fucking pretty, baby,” Dropping back to your elbows, you feel…small. Any other time, you might sit up, try to feel some kind of control, but for whatever reason, you stay where you are.

Joel wasn’t exaggerating when he said he wanted to take his time. It’s frustrating. It’s torture. He worships you, makes sure his mouth is on nearly every part of your body before he finishes undressing you. Your ankles hook over his shoulders, his hands grazing, dragging thin nylon up and off each leg. He kisses your calves, the inside of your knees, your thighs. He uses one hand to unhook your bra and pulls it away. He spends what feels like hours with his mouth on your breasts – sucking, licking, nipping – hands cupping, grabbing, pinning you down. The whole time, he’s telling you how badly he wants you, how pretty you are, how good you’re being for him. He’s either touching you too much, or maybe not enough. It’s hard to say. Only after he’s reduced you to an incoherent, whimpering mess do you somehow find the strength to fight back. 

By this point, you’re lying in the middle of the bed, your leg hooked over his hip, the waistband of his jeans digging into bare skin. He’s still got all his fucking clothes on, which makes everything so much worse, because it’s clear whose in control here, and it’s certainly not you. 

The button of his flannel is where you start, and then you work downward. Joel doesn’t stop you at any point. You think he might, just because of how things have been going. But he’s as easy as you are, and you take him in all the same after you’ve shucked off his jeans, and he’s closer to your state of buff.

To be fair, you’ve spent enough time lingering by the windows – when he’s outside mowing the lawn shirtless, or picking up his newspaper in the morning, or doing workouts in his garage with the door open (such a tease!) – to have an idea of what to expect. He’s not ripped by any means but neither are you – and you’ve never liked that anyways. But it’s not hard to ascertain that he spends all day in the sun, lifting and hauling things around. His muscles are defined, rippling lightly under his skin with each panting breath he takes. Joel’s a spectacle – broad and tan, a line of dark hair dipping from his belly-button down into the waistband of his dark-gray briefs. You can make out the way his cock is straining against the fabric.

Once you’ve appraised him as best as you can – you can see that he’s studying you, almost like he’s anxious, like you might not like what you see. As if he doesn’t know. Ridiculous. You aren’t going to leave him guessing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Joel,” you shake your head. “You’re a fucking stud.”

Joel’s face breaks out in a grin and he yanks you back so you’re on top of him, legs on either side of his chest. And finally, finally, you can touch him like you’ve been wanting. His skin is warm – it’s kind of hot in your room, you’d forgotten to turn on the A/C, so you’re both a little sweaty. But and it’s unclear if it’s because of the heat or just how worked up you are. It doesn’t matter, because it only turns you on even more. You trace the broad plane of his chest, hand snaking down…all the way to his boxers, but he stops you. 

He’d let you undress him, allowed it, but this…it crosses a line. Joel hooks his hands behind your thighs and begins to drag you up, up, up, while he shifts lower. It takes a second to register what he’s doing, and when it does, you try to stop it.

“Joel, wait I-” 

“I have to taste you darlin’, that okay?” His dark hair is fanned out around his head, resting on your floral pillowcase. In the dim light, his pupils are so blown out you can barely see anything else except black. “I’ll give you whatever you want, but you’ve gotta let me taste you first.”

It’s not that you don’t want it, but he’s taken you off guard, and you’re already overwhelmed by how intimate all this has been, gentle and languid while he whispers honeyed words into your ear. His mind seems already made up, and you don’t really want to tell him no.

“Alright,” you manage, and you grip the top of the headboard. 

It’s embarrassing how wet you already are. It started with his hand on your knee in the car, and you have spent the last hour clenching around nothing, squeezing your legs together and searching for friction. Anything. Well, you are about to get it.

Joel’s lips press to the insides of your thighs, once more, dangerously close to where you’re weeping for him. His nose bumps your clit when he turns his head, and you whine – hips sinking to seek the contact that he’s been denying you, and then immediately pulling back in a moment of clarity.

“No, no,” Joel’s hands immediately land on your hips to hold you in place, bringing you lower. “Stay right there for me.”

You don’t dare move. 

Finally, his mouth finds you. You think he might tease for a little bit, go slow, because he’s been doing that all night, and it’s become infuriating. But he doesn’t. He eats you out, laves at you. A hot, velvet tongue that works up a steady rhythm. It’s interrupted only by the vibration of his moans every so often, which only add to the pleasure. For a moment, you miss how he’d been talking to you before, but you’re so sensitive, so eager, that you think you’ll sacrifice anything if it means he’s not going to stop. Joel keeps you still with a bruising grip on your hips. All you can do is let him have his way and whimper his name over and over, listen to him groan in response. 

Being consistent is key for you. And Joel is nothing but. Practiced, but feral….like he’s been holding back all night. It’s been a long time, or maybe he’s just that excited, it’s hard to tell. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Can’t bring yourself to care about much more than him, the man below you working you over with just his mouth. 

“I’m…Joel, I’m-” you try to pull off again, it’s too much, but he doesn’t allow it. Even if the position he’s in is compromising, he’s managed to find a way to assert himself. The coil inside you has wound so tightly that almost every muscle in your body is tense. Now, can’t even move, not even if you wanted to, and he keeps going, your words have only made him more determined.

The coil snaps. You cry out, using the headboard to stifle your noises – not worried that it will probably leave a mark. If you get nothing else from Joel, then at least it will serve as a reminder that he was here, beneath you, lapping up everything you have to give him. The orgasm leaves you weak, trembling, but he holds you up, works you through it until the waves begin to cease, and then you’re so overstimulated, so sensitive that you start to feel lightheaded. “Fuck, Joel, I can’t-” You tug on his hair, hope he’ll get the hint and release you, but he doesn’t. If anything, it only spurs him on.

His mouth is white hot on you, his tongue damp, firm as it circles your clit and drags downward. He gives you nowhere to go, no opportunity to come down from the high, so within minutes, or seconds – at this point, you’ve lost track of time – he’s worked you up to the precipice of release, and you’re coming again, crying out to him.

At last, he eases off, lets you relax. You do, carefully, and so does he, gradually removing his mouth from you while your hand untangles from his dark curls. Joel holds you steady as he sits back against the headboard, keeping you splayed across his lap. You don’t waste your time saying something stupid like “you didn’t have to do that,” because you’re not gonna pretend you didn’t love every second, but mostly because you’re not sure you’re capable of speaking just yet. His hand catches your jaw, and he looks at you – innocently, like he hadn’t just done what he had done, like his fucking beard, and chin, and lips weren’t still wet with you. But the ornery glint in his eyes gives him away. “You liked that?” he has the audacity to ask. 

A shaky hand comes to pinch your eyebrows as you let out a weak laugh, nodding. “Yeah, Joel….yeah.”

“Good,” he answers. 

“I was right about you,” you manage. 

“Yeah?” He murmurs, and his hand skates up your arm, the other settling on your waist. It’s grounding, reassuring as your heart attempts to steady its beating. 

“You’re trouble.” 

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, and he leans in close. “Only for you, pretty girl.” 

Your hips jolt back at the term of endearment, so much so that you feel the length of his cock, hard against your ass. It’s your turn to take care of him, but it shouldn’t be difficult, because your arousal is already building again. It’ll be much, much, easier to come again, specifically around him. Plus, right now, you are willing to do just about anything for him. You kiss him, and it’s sloppy, lick the taste of yourself out of his mouth. Heat curls again in the pit of your stomach, and you grind yourself down on him through his underwear.

Joel’s head falls back, bonks the headboard, and the thud of impact is overshadowed by his agonized moan. You reach down between your bodies, let your touch land over his clothed cock. He pants out your name. So many things you could do – with only your hand, or your mouth, but before you can decide, he speaks again.

“Wanna be inside you,” he grits out. “So fucking bad.” 

“You don’t want me to-”

“No,” he cuts you off. “No, no. I need you.”

“You can have me,” you nod, leaning forward to kiss his neck, pushing down the elastic of his underwear. Joel lets you, his hips stuttering, until he freezes. “Shit.” He reaches out to halt your movements.

You look up, his eyes are wide. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry, I uh, I left my wallet in the car,” Joel’s voice is pinched, palms leaving your body to press against his eyes, frustrated. “I brought condoms, but they’re - I’ll have to go get them.”

“I have some,” you pipe up, nodding towards your bedside table. Joel reaches for it, but it's your turn to stop him. “But I mean, I’m clean,” you say. “...And I have an IUD, so…” 

Joel pauses, stares at you under thick lashes. “You sure that…” So tentative. “....That’s okay with you?” 

You feel yourself smirk a little as you look at him. It’s not something you’d allow anyone to do. But you’re feeling a little lost in the moment. The part of your brain that usually tells you to run for the hills whenever things get too real has turned off. It’s not the first time he’s caused that, and you sort of enjoy the delusion. There’s no question. It’s Joel.  “Oh, yeah.”

The words ignite something in him that you weren’t entirely prepared for, and he’s pulling you hard against his mouth with one hand, while the other pushes his briefs down the rest of the way. You don’t get the chance to see him, to feel him, before he’s lining himself up with your slick cunt. 

It’s a soft glide of sensitive skin across sensitive skin, and you shake with anticipation. You don’t even know you have your eyes closed, focusing on the sensation, until you hear Joel’s voice. 

“Open your eyes,” he commands. “Please just-” he swallows hard. “I wanna watch you. So fucking pretty.” 

You obey, and he guides your hand to replace your own. It’s not until your hand wraps around him that you’re aware of just how thick his cock is, throbbing and leaking, and it makes you all the more eager. Slowly, you start to sink down, but it’s too challenging to take him all at once. So first, just the tip, you roll back to ease the sting, then gradually sink lower and low. 

Joel moves closer to you, holding his breath, guiding you along, propped back against the pillows. “That’s it, so fucking good, baby…”

You understand why he was moving so languidly earlier. This is meant to be enjoyed. After some time, and lots of praise, your hips settle flush with his own, and he’s seated fully inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that your body isn’t fully ready to accommodate, but it has your toes curling and mouth hanging open, bearing down on him involuntarily. Under Joel’s watchful gaze you feel terribly, terribly exposed. 

“Keep going,” Joel encourages. So you move. It’s experimental at first, small ruts against him, getting used to the way it feels. It doesn’t take you long to find the spot that makes you abandon eye contact, throw your head back, and –

“Oh, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and he sounds strained, pinched – he’s holding back, but still enjoying every second. “That feel good?”

You nod furiously. He lets you find a rhythm that works for you, lets you take your time, and once you do, he starts to match your pace. His hands don’t stay in one place for very long. First, they’re resting gently on your ass. Then they’re cupping your tits, watching them bounce as they sway with your movements. He brings his knees up behind you, pressing his feet into the bed, and uses the leverage to fuck himself deeper each time you lower yourself onto him. 

At this point, you’re unaware of what types of noises you must be making, and you’re thankful that you’re alone so you can be as loud as you want. His cock is hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed, and rolling across the same spot over and over and over. 

“You feel so perfect for me,” Joel says, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling. “So, so good, baby, so fucking pretty.” 

“Mm-hmm,” is all you can answer, nodding furiously and feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with every thrust. 

You’re too easy for him. And you were too worked up to begin with. “Joel, I can’t-”

He slams his hips up into yours so hard you cut yourself off with a choked gasp. Then he does it again. “You gonna come for me?” he asks. “I can feel you, baby, I know it’s close.” 

“Y-yeah,” he’s got you stammering on your words. You’re clamping down onto him so tightly it hurts. But you’re so desperate to come, to feel what it’ll do to him, that you don’t stop.

“Come here,” he murmurs, hands around your waist, pulling you down so your lips are nearly touching. “Stay close to me.”

“Oh, fuck, oh-” The warmth of his body so close to yours, your hands bracing themselves on his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, all coupled with one vicious rut of his hips has you right there. Joel tilts your head back just enough so you’re forced to look directly at him – and then you come undone. 

You want to close your eyes, turn your head, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and he’s right in front of you. Joel’s touch slides up your back, draws you even closer, and you ride out your third orgasm of the night while pressed entirely against his chest, forced to be vulnerable in a way you’ve never been with anyone before. “So good, baby, so good. Such a good fuckin’ girl for me,” he praises you through it, works you through it, until you’re all but melted in his arms, and he still hasn’t pulled his eyes away.

Utterly spent, you know, distantly, somewhere, that he has to come. However, Joel takes over, flips you both so you’re underneath him, and presses himself deep into the cradle of your pelvis. He’s heavy on top of you, but the weight is somehow soothing.

“I thought about you,” you murmur, hoping it’ll help. His jaw is set, solely focused on his own release. “How good you’d feel.”

“Fuck, really?” he grunts. “I-I- did too.”

“Yeah?” you ask, feeling flush at the admission. “I thought about….letting y-you use me.”

Joel groans your name, curses loudly, ruts into you even harder. You can feel him throbbing, so fucking close, and you arch yourself up to meet him, pleasure already building again, even though you thought it wasn’t possible. 

“It’s so much better, Joel, you’re so much better–” 

Than I imagined. But you don’t have to finish the thought. The idea of you, thinking of him, seems to be enough as it is, and you feel him pulsing, warmth blooming and spreading out as he groans, throws his head back and spills himself impossibly deep inside you. If you weren’t utterly spent, the feeling of him coming – and nothing between you, probably would have set you off again. For now, it’s enough.

His whole body goes limp as he relaxes his arms from where they’re braced on either side of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You hear him take a few, haggard breaths once it’s over, and then a deep chuckle vibrates in your ear. “Fuck, baby.”

You rub his shoulder lightly to soothe him, and his lips find the underside of your jaw, kissing lightly his beard scratching your cheeks. For an undetermined amount of time, he remains there. Normally, you’d probably check his watch, but you’ve noticed that the one he always wears is broken, and really….you feel content.

Finally, Joel pulls away, cursing under his breath and withdrawing from you. He runs his hand through his hair, and flops on his back by your side, and you feel horribly empty. After he’s cupped your cheek, turning you gently to look at him – he gives you a tender, affectionate smile. 

It hits you like a freight train. 

He was not the type of man you dated. The men you dated liked to slap, choke, withhold. That had always been what you’d gotten off to. The more frenzied, the more impersonal – the better. That wasn’t to say Joel hadn’t been passionate. But you’d never experienced anything like this before.

You tear away from his gaze, focus on the ceiling. Heart pounding, threatening to break through your ribs, you feel your mouth dry up, your eyes burn and fuck – you’re about to cry. Try to turn yourself away from him, but he sees it. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just uh-” your voice catches on the lump forming in the back of your throat and cracks audibly, raw. 

“Hey– ” you hear the mattress shift, he’s moving closer, and you start to scramble. You’ve gotta leave. Get to the bathroom, compose yourself. “Where are you goin?”

“Joel, I just need to-” but his hand circles your wrist, and you don’t have the power to resist him. The bones of his hand press firmly in your cheek, turning your head so you have to look at him. There are tears in your eyes.  

“What’s wrong, baby? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Up close you can see that his eyes aren’t brown – they’re hazel. Mesmerizing, long lashes – gold and green rimming his irises. How had you not noticed that before? 

“No, no not at all it was just…” you’re talking so fast, not even sure where you’re going with the sentence. “I’m sorry, I liked it I just-I don’t know,” you stutter. Shaking your head, you cover your face. You don’t want to feel this way with him here. “I’m not used to-” 

Joel, who has never seen you at a loss for words, frowns, draws you against him. “Come here.”

“It’s okay,” he lets you press your face just below his jaw. He’s being so soft, it makes everything that much worse. Tears slip down your cheeks, landing on his skin. He strokes your hair, holds you so tightly, firmly, "It was intense, huh?” 

You want to resent the way he’s speaking to you – like you’re a child who fell off her bike and skinned her knee, and not a grown ass woman realizing how disconnected she’s felt with every other partner until now. But unfortunately, it’s kind of working. You murmur an affirmation in response. ”I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he promises. 

He holds you until the tide of emotion swells, settles, lips against your temple, his fingertips tracing up and down your spine, and gives you the time to compose yourself.

“That was really nice, I promise,” you say, eventually. And then, because he’s been so gracious, you’re honest. “It’s just been…a long time…” Forever, really. “Since I felt…”

“I know,” Joel nods. “Me too. It’s alright.” 

“Yeah,” you bob your head. He holds your face reverently, and pulls you in for a chaste kiss before tucking you back against his chest. You close your eyes, nestle against him. He strokes your hair while you listen to the steady beat of his heart.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next thing you know, you’re being gently shaken awake. Somehow, you’d fallen asleep. 

“Hey, baby,” Joel murmurs softly. 

“Mmm?” you groan in response, exhaustion clinging to your limbs. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta get going.” 

You scoff into his neck and make a noise of protest, still not entirely roused, he’d woken you too delicately. When he speaks, his lips brush against your forehead, hands still tracing up and down the lines of your body and making you shiver. “I told Sarah and Tommy I’d be home by midnight.”

“Right,” you mutter, finding the strength to push yourself off of him and stretch. Joel sits up, very tentatively releasing you from his grip. 

“I’m sorry I had to wake you, I can see myself out.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “No, please. Do you need anything?”

“Can I use your bathroom?” 

“Of course,” you point towards the ensuite. 

Joel collects his discarded clothes off the bed, then the floor, and disappears. You hear the sink running, watch the shuffling shadows he casts in the crack below the door. While he’s doing that, you slip into your robe and run your fingers through your hair, taking in the disheveled state of your bed, before deciding to clean up in the extra bathroom down the hall.

On your way back, you run into Joel, who looks better than ever, tanned skin glowing, a soft smile on his face. “Hey,” he says. 

“Hey.” 

“This was nice. I had a really good time.” 

“Me too.”

“Will you…” he trails off, rubs his jaw. “Will you be okay? I don’t want to-”

“I’m fine,” you say, dismissively. “I just had a moment.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.” Joel studies you carefully, and you’re prompted to continue. “I promise. Joel. This was nice.”

“It was,” he grins. “I’d like to see you again.” 

“Me too,” you don’t even think before you answer, despite everything. It surprises you, how willing you suddenly are.

“Good.” He kisses you, slow and lingering. “I’ll give you a call.” 

“Okay.”

-

part vi

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[persephone411]

The Cellist (Jw x reader)

My second one shot, this time also with actual smut (although I am not sure if it’s good.I’ve never written smut before). Yes, I play cello so I had to write this.

Summary: An attractive stranger approaches you after a concert.

Masterlist

After you played the last note and lowered your bow, the room erupted in applause. You smiled and then stood up from your chair and bowed down with the rest of your string quartet.

“what a lovely performance” Winston, the head of the hotel where you just performed stepped on the stage. It was your first gig at the prestigious continental Hotel and you couldn’t help but curiously look around the audience. Most people wore suits and stood with drinks in the room.

“Thank you for playing. It’s always nice to have these little concerts” the hotel manager explained and you and your fellow musicians smiled politely.

“Now, for the rest of the evening, feel free to Check out our bar or Lounge area. We will then discuss details for further performances.” Another round of applause, then Winston left the stage and the crowd started to dissolve. Quicky you packed your cello in its suitcase, then you went back to your room to store it. In the hotel room bathroom you quicky refreshed your make up, then you went back downstairs to the bar and lounge area, feeling confident in your elegant black dress and heels. At the bar you sat down and ordered a martini. As you looked around the room you could see Josh, one of the violists talk to Winston, probably about further performances and Lissy, who played the viola in your quartet flirt with a blonde short haired woman. You smiled and took a sip of your drink.

“Shostakovich wasn’t it?”

A voice said suddenly. You turned around and found yourself next to an attractive Dark haired stranger. Longish dark hair, a perfectly trimmed beard and. Black turtleneck under a black blazer.

Completely taken aback by his attractiveness you blinked.

“Excuse me?”

The man chuckled, it was a deep, soft noice which sent shivers down your spine.

“The last piece you played. It was Shostakovich wasn’t it?”

Now you smiled

,,yes, very good, someone knows their composers” you smiled up at the stranger who was now sipping on a glass of Whiskey.

“I listened often to him when I was younger, brings back memories, John wick is my name by the way”

“(Y/N), Nice to meet you Mr. wick”

Your gazes met and you imediatly knew how this night would end, or at least how you wanted it to end. In his or your hotel room, with him buried deep inside you. Only the thought of it made you squirm and sent shivers down your spine. You took a sip of your drink to calm yourself down.

As you returned your gaze to John, he was staring down at you, even though he was standing while you were sitting on a bar stool.

“If you were want to I could show you my cello” you whispered to break the tension.

“Yes” he murmured hoarsely. The he cleared his throat and finished his drink. You followed suit and only shortly after you were on the way to your room. On the way you explained a bit about your musical background and your instrument but as soon as you entered the hotel room everything music related was forgotten. The moment the door behind you closed his lips were on yours and his strong arms were wrapped around your waist. You answered his kiss fiercely and John groaned while his hands wandered over your back .Quicky he got rid of his blazer and your Shoes and tights followed quickly.

“Get on the bed” he ordered hoarsely. Completely breathless you could only nod and bit your lip as he stripped out of his turtleneck and slacks. He then got onto the bed and started kissing you feverishly, his lips wandered over your jaw and neck, causing you to shiver out of pleasure. Lightly he bit down and a gasp escaped you. Automatically you started to grind against him, feeling his erection through his briefs against your lower stomach. While his lips teased your sensitive neck, his hands started to tug impatiently on your dress, nearly ripping it off.

“Wait” you panted breathlessly and tried to find the zipper. John growled impatiently and then ripped the dress off unceremoniously. You sucked in a suprised breath and goodbumps formed on your body which was now only covered with your bra and panties. Your chest rose and fell quickly and you were practically shaking out of desire.

“I need you” your voice was breathless and John chuckled deeply. Gently but determined he pushed you further into the sheets and imediatly his body was on top of yours. You closed your eyes as his large hands roamed over your body and opened your bra. Quicky you shrug it off and a loud moan escapes you as Johns mouth found your sensitive nipple, sucking and biting gently.

“John” you whimper and arch your back. He looks up at your face and a smirk lays across his lips. As he continues, his hands wander lower on your body, lightly touching your ribs and stomach. After what feels like

an eternity, he hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties.

“Lift your hips for me” he orders quietly. You obey immediately, your heart beating like crazy. He quicky pulled your panties off and then you felt his fingers at your entrance.

“So wet for me already” he groaned and started to part your folds with his index. You gasped and wrapped your arms around his neck

“John please” you whined . He chuckled and started to apply light pressure on your clit, which caused you to squirm and move against him. Quickly his touch became more urgent and in mere seconds he had you moaning loudly as he curled his fingers against your G-spot.

“That’s a good girl”

He growled and you arched your back.

“I’m close” your voice wasn’t more than a whimper.

“Then cum for me”

That was all it took for you to loose control. With a loud unfiltered moan you came, wrapping your arms tightly around John as the waves of your orgasm hit you. He continued to finger you lightly, but then pulled back. Visibly exhausted you tried to catch your breath. Your whole body felt heavy and you were ready to fall asleep.

“I’m not done with you little one” John warned. Then he slowly thrusted inside you. You immediately noticed his size, which was pretty much perfect. Big enough to fill you completely, but not big enough to make it painful. You hummed in pleasure and after a bit John started to thrust slowly.

“Just to make it clear, I will not be gentle. This is only the beginning ”

He whispered in your ear and lightly bit your earlobe.

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less” you murmured back and teasingly clenched your walls around him, which caused him to groan. Without a warning he grabbed your wrists and pinned them over your head. His dark eyes met yours and a nearly cruel smile laid on his lips. As he started to move his hips again, his trusts were more forceful, driving the headboard against the wall and hitting your G-spot eveytime

“More, I need more” you begged weakly.

“As you wish” he then pulled out and just as you wanted to complain, he flipped you around and pulled you on all fours. Then he thrusted into you from behind in one swift motion. A suprised scream left your throat. This time John didn’t hold back anything. Roughly he grabbed your hips and took you in the most primal way. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the hotel room and you grabbed the sheets underneath you for support.

“Yes! John” your voice was high pitched and shortly you thought about how probably every other person on the floor could hear you.

“That’s it, good girl. Scream for me” Johns hand found its way around your throat and gently grabbed it, not hurting you but instead showing you that he was in control. His body was draped over yours and you could feel his breath on your neck. His thrusts got more impatient and rougher, which you didn’t even knew was possible. The hand which was wrapped around your throat wanders lower, pinching your nipples and then finding your sensitive clit.

“John” you moaned as he started to circle it.

He only continued and the combination of this cock hitting all the right spots and his finger rubbing your clit finally send you over the edge.

With a loud moan you come, gripping the sheets and whimpering. You heard John chuckle in your ear, he wasn’t slowing down his thrusts and you were close to overstimulation.

“Please…” you whimpered as he continued to fuck your body. He held your hips up and you couldn’t really do much expect take it, your head buried in the pillows and moaning weakly.

“Take it” he growled and continued. You clenched weakly around his cock. This thrusts got quicker and he was panting, then he came too. A deep groan left his throat and you felt him rest his forehead against your back while he was twitching inside of you. After his orgasm was over he took a deep breath and slowly pulled out. As soon as he wasn’t holding your hips anymore you collapsed on the bed. Your whole body felt heavy and you knew that you would be sore tomorrow. As you felt Johns hand on your thigh you wanted to protest, you couldn’t take anymore.

“It’s ok.let me clean you” he whispered and you nodded and slowly opened your legs and allowed him to wipe the rests of his cum away with a wet towel. After tat you lazily rolled onto your other side, facing John.

“Hey” you said awkwardly

“Hey” he repeated your words and then opened his arms invitingly, allowing you to cuddle against his muscular chest.

“You did well” he praised you quietly.

A quiet giggle escaped you.

“I’m honestly pretty sure that everyone in this hotel heard us, I’m not sure if Winston wants me to play here again”

“Well that would be a shame, I loved hearing you play”

Johns voice was laced with amusement.

,,I could give you a private concert”

,,Hmmm. How about my place after dinner?”

,,Sounds good”