#I had some heated wine ignore me

[menagerofmischief]

the first photo, the thighs! they're staring at me, so thick and biteable ‼️

The duality... idk if I want to call him daddy or lil meow meow

[simpjaes]

SWEET LITTLE MONEY MAKER. ― S.JY

When your best friend quite literally gifts you an entire man, you realize that you’re in no place to pretend that you don’t love it.  or the one where you’re very much an “i don’t need a man” type of person, and Jake shows you that you do, in fact, need a man….him, you specifically need him. Only because he needs you. 

MDNI! reblogs help writers, so please show your support through a reblog! PAIRING ― stripper!sim jaeyun x rich!afab reader

WORDCOUNT― 13.6k

CONTENT―  he’s a switch and desperately wants to be ur sugar baby, you’re a boring rich bitch who has no interest at first, masturbation, reader is kind of power-hungry, jake chokes her NOTE ― if you’ve read this before, specifically for jeno, hi. that was written by me back in 2022 except now it’s way better and not an absolute trash-fire. enjoy! not proof read kind of.

nsfw tags under cut::

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

NSFW TAGS― jake is a stripper so obv dancing and stripping, HE’S VERY SWITCH BUT MOSTLY SUBBY HERE, hand job, masturbation, choking without permission, finger fucking, making out, protected sex omg GASP, slight nipple play, riding, lil bit of stomach bulge, sensitive cock continues to get fucked lmfao

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It was a gift, or rather, he was the gift.

A downpayment of six hundred dollars told you enough about the man. It’s obvious he offers his services to lonely, sad, rich women who have no one else to spend their money on. A parasite, a leech, is what he is. Yet, still, your best friend has been taunting you with the idea for months in an attempt to have you give the guy a try.

She had apparently heard of the infamous Jake through various means. All rich women, all lonely and unsatisfied women. Which, to you only seems like a fucking insult to be taunted with the very idea of hiring this man. What is she implying? That you’re lonely and unsatisfied? Please.

Some best friend. Then again, she has since experienced Jake herself, and now her taunting feels more like…promises. 

“He’s so clean, toned, and oh god–” She had paused with a flush across her cheeks as she thought back to the heated night. “The way he moves, shit, he teases so much. I could have died right then and there if he were to–” 

The expression of disinterest on your face did not halt her doting, nor did the blatant grimace you eventually shot at her. Genuinely, you cannot take her seriously. Already you know too much about her, which is nice and all, but you could do without the details of her little stripper friend and how “wet” he left her. 

“I even heard that sometimes he even gives special treatments with his services…” She had rolled her eyes after she said that, almost looking offended. “Not that I'd know or anything, he took my cash and left when our session was up.” 

You recall knowing exactly what that “treatment” probably entailed, and the reason your best friend didn’t get it was likely due to the fact that she’s, well, not that rich. You’d assume such an expensive man wouldn’t give special treatments to women who wouldn’t end up being repeat customers anyway. Or, maybe, he just wasn’t trying to drain her dry. 

And even with all of the information being dangled in front of your face, practically force fed to you, the image should be more delicious than the century-old wine you have every night at dinner– for the entire duration of her doting compliments of Jake, you are simply not fucking interested. There’s other things to do in life, more to worry about than getting your body excited for someone who will never finish the job. 

Last week was when your bestie told you all about her single night with him. In fact, her entire visit was just her speaking of him, of how great he is, of how alluring he is. Arguably, you see that she’s a bit obsessed. Does it make you curious? Maybe a little bit, but not enough to actually give him a go yourself. And so, after that visit, you watched her leave with a menacing, evil little glint in her eye. You ignored it, as per usual considering she’s always up to something, unaware that the visit she lends to you today is not a complimentary marketing campaign of a male stripper, no, it’s a fucking ambush. 

When she appeared at your doorstep, she said nothing. She didn’t even look you in the eye, actually. Weird.  She did, however, have an envelope in her hand and you were almost offended at how she threw it at you and trotted away without a single greeting or goodbye. No afternoon lunch over champagne, no gossip, no advertising. Just an envelope. 

Suspicious.

Upon opening said envelope, you find that your bitch of a best friend dropped that six hundred dollar down payment, likely in an attempt to force you out of being the stick in the mud that you always are. There’s a note. Your name in bold letters, a date, a time, and a signature of none other than “Jake Sim” with a fucking website on the back. 

Shortly after huffing and rolling your eyes, about two seconds from tossing her six hundred dollars in the trash, you feel your phone ping to show your best friend texting you. 

Best Friend: I paid for it, you just have to tip him. a lot. tip him a lot. You: why the fuck would you buy a stripper for me?

Best Friend: you need it, trust me. 

So, now here you are waiting for that knock on your door and wondering why you even tried to look nice for some dude that’s about to swing his meat in your face. Appearance, reputation, whatever. Fucking unbelievable, you think, that there’s a stripper out there that only does private parties and your own best friend thinks you need it? You could have any dick you want, why the fuck should you have to pay just to look? 

He’s going to be expecting more than just you here, alone in your house. Surely, he won’t be expecting to waltz into someone’s home all oiled up only to find one very disinterested woman. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

To your dismay, Jake has apparently already been warned of you. Your best friend probably told him that you’re a nightmare, too difficult to fluster or gain an interest from. The first words out of his mouth when you opened your door was “She said you’d give me that look.”

Still, even so, your best friend wasn’t lying to him. You played the part of yourself all too well as you watched him saunter into your home as if he owned the place. You’re impressed actually, with the way he doesn’t seem to feel out of place in such a lavish room. He looks…comfortable here as he scopes out his stage for the night, like he belongs. 

“Big place, looked smaller on the outside.” He says casually, filling the silence in the room since you make no attempt yourself to greet him. 

You watch as he tosses his bag beside your living room couch and eyes the spacious area just in front of the large fireplace. His eyes flick to the windows, to the walls, counting the outlets and looking for shelves with space. 

“The smaller the better, sometimes it feels too big in here for just me.” You finally speak, admitting a small weakness of yours almost immediately. You are lonely, despite never wanting to admit it. And you watch as he shrugs, now crouching to grab wires from his bag. 

“Oh yeah?” He glances at you. “Must get lonely. What a good friend to purchase me to help you with that.”

You bite the inside of your cheek at that, noting his calm and cool tone as he talks his business. The little smirk at the corner of his lips is charming, but it’s all for show. He’s just a pretty man, that’s all he’s got going for him and you guess you can respect the hustle. 

“This was not my doing.” You cross your arms, pretending to be unimpressed. 

“Yeah, yeah–” He waves you off as he begins to set up, making space for small lights to set the mood, looking to see if you have a sound system he can use. “I already know that you’re new to this.” He’s still calm, still collected.

“Lucky for you, first-timers are my favorite to entertain.” He smirks again, now looking directly at you as he, now, fluffs some of your couch pillows. 

Your curiosity spikes again only for a moment. You really did think that the initial meeting would be different, less casual. You half expected him to waltz in cock swinging. Wasn’t he, like, supposed to pretend to be a cop or something? You know, show up and press play on a magical stereo that didn’t exist beforehand and start vibrating on you? 

Instead, he’s just setting up…fully clothed in a ratty sweater with jeans that hug his thighs. He doesn’t appear at all to be a man that gets paid to take his clothes off. It makes you wonder. Makes you want to ask questions. Then again, you still have no interest in learning about him considering you already know exactly what he will be doing soon enough. 

“You’re good with the mood lighting, yeah? Or do you prefer the morgue lighting?” His eyes shoot up to the bright white lights on your ceiling as he goes for his laptop now, presumably to connect it to your very obvious sound system.

You only take slight offense to his comment on your living room lighting, considering you have a control panel that can make them way less blinding, but– he’s right. And now you’re a little insecure that you prefer such a drab color in your home. You make your way to the wall, clicking the buttons on the panel just to prove you have warm lighting too, and that you can adjust the brightness. 

“Ah, perfect.” Jake hums from across the room, eyes focused on his laptop screen before glancing to you and your extravagant light switch. “A little lower.” He guides you, knowing exactly which lighting accentuates his toned body the best when paired with his own little LED colored lights. 

You turn the knob slightly, wondering just how good he must be at dancing in houses like this one. 

“Little more.” He smiles

You dim the lighting more, looking at him and his relaxed posture. 

“Right there.” He finishes in a more gentle tone, eyes focusing back on his laptop as he prepares not only the playlist but the mood lighting from his end too. Red. Lots of red.

And you just watch, his voice ringing in your ears as you try to pretend that your best friend wasn’t right. Even with just this casual set up…he’s…goddamn, he’s alluring. In that ratty old sweater, with his messy hair and pretty smile. 

Stunning. 

This motherfucker is stunning. 

“Go and sit–” Jake says now, nodding to your couch as he places his laptop down, presumably done with the set up. “Just tell me where I can get myself ready and I’ll be back out shortly.” 

You point towards the guest bathroom as you take your seat on the couch, unsure as to why your hands feel so clammy. And by the time he rounds the corner and you can hear the bathroom door shut, you attempt to make yourself comfortable. 

And goddammit, no matter how many times you’ve napped here on this plush and soft surface, you can’t find the comfort here right now. The curiosity of why you’re okay with this burns in your gut despite knowing exactly why. Despite the fact that your best friend can always see straight through you and know exactly what you are. 

At the end of the day though, why the curiosity exists isn’t what matters. It’s the curiosity itself. You want to know how much money Jake makes doing this, if he likes doing it, how he got started, what he does to advertise himself in a way to only find women like you, and many other things. Countless things. He’s hot as hell, actually, and how he’s come to do this kind of work is either one of two things. One being that he’s using what the Gods gave him to the fullest. Two, being that he had no other choice. 

If he’s going to be paid to give you attention, the least you can hope is that he does it because he enjoys it, not because he has to do it. And if it does end up being because he has to do it, then perhaps his tip would be even larger than what you’d give for the ladder. 

You’re uncomfortable. 

The fact looming that you genuinely could go out and find a man at any given moment, yet here you are with a man forced upon you because you simply won’t do it. The implications of this man being here, why he’s here, how he ended up in this situation. 

You’ve never been one to care, so why start now? 

“You overthink too much.” Your best friend had said to you once, twice, hundreds of times during your friendship.  Maybe she’s right, maybe you should just enjoy the show without feeling entitled to a slutty man’s life story.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake remains in the bathroom for a good thirty or so minutes, each of them passing like a nightmare in your head. Back and forth your brain goes, from not wanting to be in this situation to fighting yourself for being such a fucking bore. A very, very attractive man is primping himself for you to look at, he’s going to come out and do his best to turn you on, the least you can do is let yourself enjoy something for once. Enjoy him. Gawk and fawn over him. After all, at least you know there’s no promise to be had after he leaves. 

No missed calls, no blocked numbers. This is business. 

Fucking thankfully, the moment he comes out of your bathroom your mind has adjusted itself into the correct state of mind for this. A torturous adventure of thoughts, but you made it nonetheless. You actually can’t even look away from him now that he’s revealed himself, even when you tried. He isn’t dressed in anything that looks tacky or cheap. Hell, he doesn’t even look sexual. He just looks…

Expensive. 

Jake genuinely looks like this is a place where he belongs. He smells like he belongs here, walks and murmurs like it too. 

You feel yourself physically react to him in his blazer and dress pants. Business is what got you to where you are today, but never have you found the attire sexy in any way until now. The suit looks much like what your team would wear day to day in the office. Always all those shy men coming into your office, stuttering through their questions and need for approvals. Jake isn’t stuttering in his suit though, he’s standing confidently at his laptop as if he hasn’t even noticed you staring yet. 

One look from him though is all he needed. Choosing this attire for someone like you is sure to mix both business and pleasure. It was a gamble of course, to bring your work home for you, but he does have the slight hope that you’ll never look at a man in a suit the same way again after this. 

And goddamn the way his abs were glistening in the dim lighting before he had turned away from you. His blazer was partially open revealing nothing but skin when he walked into the room, and you honestly wonder if he even needed to do that. He could be fully clothed at this point and you think the room would still feel hotter than usual given your mind-state. 

The way his belt held his pants on his hips was enough to have you thinking, looking as if it’s begging to be unbuckled just so the sound of it could fill your ears. The way the blazer widens his shoulders much more than the sweater from before. He looks bigger right now, both physically and in aura. 

The scent of him wafted off of him in an even prettier way when paired with his image. He smells like a sweet type of musk, something you’d be interested in drinking alongside your dinner on special occasions. And under the assumption that the scent is why his abs are fucking glistening– fucking body oil. He uses body oil for this.

His hair rustles about when he turns to face you again, this time with the bass of whatever song he’s playing accentuating each step towards you. So…the talking is done then? Your cheeks heat up at how quickly he starts his session with you, even without a single roll of his body. Already, you could eat him alive, the smirk on his face leading your eyes straight to him. 

Trailing down, down down. To his neck, that small glimpse of exposed chest, to the even more exposed lower abdomen section. His belt.

“Good?” He asks, leaning over you and placing his hands on either side of your head as he grips the couch.

You can’t look up at him, eyes training on his chest that you can now fully see through his single buttoned blazer. That same sweet musk assaulting your lungs. 

Watching you from up here, Jake can tell you’re going to be fun to play with. A woman with such a harsh exterior now melting at the mere image of him when he’s got the right lights on him. To be fair, he really was warned and prepared by your friend, which didn’t seem the type to afford him on more than one occasion.

He thought it was nice that she paid for another session, shocking him to learn that it wasn’t for herself at all. What a wonderful friend, and what a bitch you’d be to have turned him away. 

Finally, you nod to him, still eyeing his body in a shameful show of how much you genuinely did need this. What’s so bad about paying to look? Especially when the man is Jake, and he’s presenting himself like this.

“Rule number one.” Jake smiles, swaying in front of you as his grip tightens against the couch, wanting you to feel trapped and hopefully mesmerized by him, “I only accept bills of twenty, fifty, and one hundred. If you toss a fucking dollar, I’m leaving.” 

That’s clearly not an issue you could fathom having, despite your internal protests. You only carry bigger bills anyway so you nod to him, quickly forgetting he even shared that ridiculous rule that would never apply to you by means of watching his hips swirl rather than sway. You see the heaviness in his pants, and you wonder if he gets himself hard for these little shows. 

You fear looking up at his face now too, because you know he’s staring down at you, watching your every breath, every move. 

“Rule number two,” He lends down now, lowering his voice and blowing against your ear in a short breath. “Don’t touch me without being invited, or without asking.”

Now, that’s a rule that applies to you only because you immediately want to defy it. There’s a knee jerk reaction almost that makes you want to reach out, to grip his flexing body and pull it closer. You wanted to feel how slick his skin is with that wonderfully scented oil. You wanted the scent on your fingers for later, you wanted to feel how warm he must be. 

He doesn’t wait for your nod this time though, already noticing a familiar look on your face that he gets from most, if not all, of his clients. This is why he’s so in demand, after all. If he plays hard to get, sometimes he gets more out of his sessions. Sometimes he even gets a repeat client. 

“And rule number three–” He continues, this time pulling back and positioning his face in front of yours. This rule appears to be an important one, the rule where you need to look at his face rather than his body. As if it needs to be heard. “I won’t touch you unless you ask– or beg.” 

What you’re not realizing at this moment is that rule number three isn’t something he often speaks of. Sometimes, very rarely, Jake is in a mood when he goes out on a job. Condoms are always with him, just in case, but he never intends to use them or utter rule number three until meeting said client. They pay to look at him, not to touch him, however…if they pique his interest he surely offers the third rule. 

And if a client never hears of it, they know that even if they ask to touch, he would never. Even if they want him to touch, he wouldn’t touch anywhere too pleasurable. 

Meaning, you were right to assume what he was doing in your bathroom for so long. His hand felt better than usual against his length for the split second he had of tucking it into the most attractive position. He knew instantly that tonight was one of those nights, and you were to be a point of his own desire too. He played with himself for a bit, allowing himself to get half hard before coming out of the bathroom.

The way you looked at him finished the job, allowing his cock to grow to full attention at the mere sight of you fawning over him in silent discomfort. So– yeah, the third rule being for you was a given. 

And when you swallow around a lump in your throat and look dead into his eyes, he thinks you know exactly what he means too. You’re lucky his cock is acting up, hell, he’s lucky it’s acting up. Look at you, fuck. Those tired eyes look ignited, and what luck the two of you have to have ever known your best friend. 

“Deal?” He finally says, tilting his head cutely and waiting for you to nod. And you do nod, just as he suspected you would. Slowly, before glancing down at his body again. 

He knows now that it’s time to start moving. Really moving.

“Is the song okay?” He asks, now pulling back and bracing himself against the back of your couch with all of his strength. “It was picked specifically for you.”

You’re not entirely what he means by that, but you assume your friend must have told him what she thinks you’d like. 

“It’s fine.” You say, glancing away from his direct eye contact and suddenly feeling like a love-struck puppy in the way you feel so incredibly fucking shy because of him.

Jake notes that you didn’t ask what he meant by the song, but he doesn’t push. He’s better at talking with his body anyway. So, he begins to focus. Opting to start slowly and work his way up, specifically to work you up. 

He steps back and away from the couch, centering himself in your living room as he closes his eyes and stretches his arms up to loosen his body a little more. Most of his clients love to see the way his muscles move as he stretches, and he suspects you’re of the same mind. 

This entire playlist is chosen for clients like you. The ones he intends to let see all of him if they so wish to. The music is slow, the bass is strong, and each beat runs through the body in a way that makes him shiver. He can move as if he’s fucking you even from across the room without so much as a touch, and he knows you’ll realize it.

He’s at his best too, when this sort of thing happens to him. The eye contact is more intense, his hips are more pointed for a reason other than payment, and arguably he feels he’s most attractive like this too. Considering the countless times he’s been paid to dance and expose himself to women he’d never even look at twice, it always hits differently when a client is just his type. 

And when he looks at you through the start of his dance, you appear to be painfully stiff against that soft couch. He smirks, a small chuckle rumbling from his chest. If only you knew how lucky you are, knowing his clients would be on their knees for a chance to experience him like this. 

The fact that it’s your first time doing this…he’d be smart to not pull this shit on you. He’s never tried this with a new client, after all but–fuck, just look at you.

Jake’s hips move on their own for the most part, he doesn’t have to think much when he’s getting into it. He easily dances along to the music for you, as if it’s second nature to him despite not yet removing any clothing. It’s the build-up for him now, and he thinks it may be that for you too. Of course, if he leaves your house tonight with a large tip in his pocket and a hard, untouched cock, that’s fine too, though not preferable. 

You watch him the same way he watches you, after all, the electricity for this to play out is there. It’s rare that he can feel goosebumps raise on his skin by a mere look from a woman that looks far too powerful despite sitting there helpless. He’s making you helpless, the dim lighting of this room accentuating his body is making you helpless. 

And truly, you find yourself understanding with each shadow on his stomach as to why he’s so favored in the groups of lonely women. Arguably, you’re shocked your best friend decided to share him.

As the song begins to fade, Jake readjusts himself. He watches you during the brief silence, a sort of fondness in his eyes making you wonder if he’s looking at you or if he does this for everyone. It feels intimate with the way his eyes slowly scan your body in the quiet room. As if the silence doesn’t need to be filled with anything other than eye contact.

For him though, a woman has never met his eye between songs. Typically, their eyes are glued to his chest, cock, hands, and neck– never his eyes. They’re muttering, moaning, or shouting for him to hurry up, that the clock is ticking and they want to see more. But not you. Even as the next song plays, your eyes stay focused on his until he looks away and starts closing the distance. He skews his body now, allowing you to see him in profile. 

In some ways, you have him feeling a bit flustered in the way you keep meeting his eye despite his body making a show for you. He’s never had to act with his face more than he has with you, even as he drops to his knees during a particular part in the song, thrusting his hips forward in an attempt to make you imagine yourself bent over on the floor in front of him. 

He glances to his side, and still you’re searching his face.

He, now, looks back down for a moment, finding himself trying to guide yours somewhere else. He knows his job is to be looked at, to be seen, but this is far too seen for his liking. Thankfully, your eyes do follow his, and you gasp at the way he moves. 

Your mouth falls open, gripping the hem of your dress as you imagine exactly what he intended.

The fact that this is your first time, Jake realizes this is new ground for him too. Typically, he speaks with his body and it appears now, he needs to portray some form of sexuality to you with his eyes. Like the roles are switched, he has to do to you what you’re supposed to be doing to him.

This is new, but warranted. Easy, even, for him to do it because he does want you.

You watch him intently, not fully realizing that you’re barely watching him fuck the air in front of him. Yeah, you see that too, but your eyes always go back to his and now, his own gaze is meeting yours. His gaze is searching your body, watching you move in reaction. From the way your fingers grip at the clothes he’d like to see on the floor later, to the way you slightly rub your legs together in a way that is almost too easy to miss. This alone is enough for him as his eyes burn their gaze into you. Much like you’re supposed to be doing to him.

He’s supposed to be able to look at you and know exactly what you’re thinking. So be it, the least he can do is let you know what he’s thinking. 

Jake’s dance is more intentional now when he leans back on his arms, throwing his head back but keeping his head turned towards you. He tries to show you specifically what he would do to you. That bulge in his pants is large and blatant as he thrusts forward and back to the music. You glance to it, offering the same jittery reactions of arousal. 

And this is when he allows his blazer to slide off of his shoulders, reaching to unbutton that single clasp for it to go sliding to the floor. He continues his movements through it, watching your eyes move to his arms and the strength used to hold himself up, his skin more and more visible to you. You do try to keep eye contact but…well, the way his abs flex when he presses forward, going concave with each inhale of those sensual lips that constantly smirk at you. 

It’s a shame, really, to know that the bulge in his pants will remain there, unseen. 

With his blazer now pooled at his wrists, he regains his focus. He wants you so badly by this point that it’s driving him crazy how hard he’s having to work for it. You’re supposed to be feeling this way, not him. Even if he can see that his routine is causing a reaction from you, he’s practically masturbating himself against the inseam of his pants just to get you to say something to him. 

Meaning, he needs to work harder. The current song is soon to be replaced with another, his favorite to dance to, his favorite to fuck to. And to be fair, by the time this playlist gets to this song on this specific playlist, usually his clients are already shaking under him. Not you though, you’re holding yourself back and he can fucking see it.

He ignores the fact that it’s technically not time for him to move on to his next set of dancing, mostly because he almost never has to get to this part, he leaves his blazer on your floor as he positions himself back on his knees, turning towards you this time and looking you straight in the eyes. The fact that he’s hard and horny is enough to amplify the way he’s looking at you, confidence so high that he’s fine with being seen in any way you want.

He’s slow when he does it, crawling a few steps closer to you. You watch the way his shoulders move in the light, his eyes rounded and cheeky, his hair falling in front of them with a charming movement. It’s not intentional when you rub your legs together at the image yet again, very much wanting to spread them the closer he gets to you. 

You can’t help but think he looks smaller on his hands and knees, eyes looking up at you as if he could eat you whole. You do wonder if your face reads the same for him, with the nervousness hitting you off and on. 

“You’re hot when you look down at me like that.” Jake mutters out of nowhere under the veil of his music, stopping in place in front of you, planting himself right at your feet. “I’d like to touch you, is that okay?”

Nevermind the fact that Jake has never actually had to ask to touch a client before, he really can’t help it at this point. His cock is aching in his pants and he isn’t quite ready to wait an entire playlist worth of songs just to put his clothes back on and leave the door with pain between his legs. He very much wants to fuck something right now, preferably someone.

You.

On the other hand, he’s pleased to see how fucking fast you accept his request. Yes, he can touch you. Fuck, you want him to touch you.

And the whole idea that this is just him doing his job is so far in the back of your mind right now that you almost forget that he probably does this to most of the women he’s paid to entertain. Quite frankly, you don’t give a fuck. You can pretend that he only does this for you, you can live in a fantasy just for a night. 

Jake lends you a smile as the current song finally fades out, the silence back except this time, you’re not looking into his eyes when you nod. 

He’s slow when he places his hand on your knees, rubbing up, up, up until he’s able to lift himself and hover over you. He intentionally pushes your dress up your thighs, solely because he wanted to see you rub them together in full, shameless view for him. He wants to know what his body does for you. What it does to you. 

And he stands, hovering over you for a moment with his hands glued to your thighs before he stares down at them. You just do as he expected, you rub your legs together, you look anywhere but at his eyes now, your hands grip the couch beneath you.

“I’m going to get on top of you,” Jake says now, dipping his head into your line of sight and forcing eye contact again, now gripping the back of the couch rather than your thighs, Just as he did when all of this started. “Would you like that?”

“Do you do this for all of your clients?” You suddenly ask with a smaller voice than you gave him upon opening your door. You breathe in sharply when he moves instead of answering your question immediately. 

He spreads his legs, propping himself right on your lap, facing towards you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest radiating near your face. 

“What kind of answer are you looking for?” He laughs fondly, grabbing your hands and placing them on his chest. “You should touch me, by the way.” He foregoes his own rule with that one, not wanting to wait any longer for you to maybe ask him yourself. “Just pull away if you don’t want to.” He adds, guiding your hands over his chest and down his abdomen.

“You didn’t answer my question–” You interrupt him, feeling the warmth pool and drip into your panties. “It’s a yes or no question.”

He chuckles sweetly, stopping your hands at his abs and holding them there. 

“No,” he admits, moving his focus to the music now that he’s got your hands on him. “I don’t do this for all  of my clients.” 

Jake isn’t sure why he does it, but now he can’t bring himself to look at you. The eye contact feels more intimate than it should with you asking him such a question and demanding an answer. Even as he swirls his hips, feeling his clothed cock rub up and against you every few seconds, it feels almost too intimate. 

“Oh, yeah?” You nervously chuckle back, feeling his muscles move beneath your hand as he thrusts his hips forward. 

“You know,” He mutters, guiding your hands a bit lower despite his own confusion at how much he’s enjoying this moment with you. You feel the cold metal of his belt buckle against your palm and you think he’s going to stop there, like maybe this is just something he does to amp up the show or something, but no. He drags your hand down further until you feel the warmth of his cock under his pants..  

Your pulse quickens as your ears start to ring. Your eyes avoid where your hand is right now, taking in a deep breath and looking up at him with question. He’s not looking back though, instead, his head is dropped and he’s staring at his pathetic bulge against your hand. He’s dancing into it, against it.

“I’ve never gotten this hard over a client that doesn’t want me.” He admits shamefully in a pathetic little laugh, bucking against your palm again to the beat of the song. “I can’t tell if I’m doing my job well enough.”

You feel shocked at that. A client that doesn’t want him? Is he fucking insane?! Then again, you need to be honest with yourself sometimes. You’ve tried to appear as uninterested as possible until he started crawling to you. There is clear attraction, obvious needs swirling in the air right now. You force yourself now to look at your hand with the hefty bulge rubbing desperately against it. The sheer size of him is something entirely different from what you were expecting out of him. This feels forbidden.

Wrong, even, But goddamn. The man is masquerading his dance solely so he can fuck against your right now. Maybe you should show some interest. 

“You’re doing well, Jake,” You finally mutter to him, the first compliment you’ve given since he got here. 

“Yeah?’ He sighs out, relieved as his hips press harder into your palm. Arguably, he’s not even dancing at this point, just trying to get off. “How well?”

Yeah, he’s a little desperate at this point for you to do something on your own. It’s so out of character for him to do all of this just to…well, get off.

“Show me,” He raises his brows, now removing his hands from yours and running them up his chest. His hips continue to move on you, and he watches you as you hold your hand in place. “Come on, the buckle is right there–” he nearly pleads. “You don’t have to be shy.”

Like a book, the two of you read the other at this moment. You’re not a woman of many words and he seems to understand that now, taking your single compliment and running with it. You do as he says, unbuckling his belt and now, sliding your hands up his body to meet his. 

“There you go,” He stresses through another relieved sigh. Leaving your hands where they are against his chest and sliding the belt from his loops on his own. He tosses the belt behind him, relishing in that lost look in your eye.

You clearly have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you seem to like it. And god, does he fucking love it. Especially when he motions his head back down, forcing your hands back to where they belong and helping you unbutton his pants. 

“Take it out, go on.” He says in a rush, “I’m asking you to do it.”

To be fair, you’re going to do it despite the nervousness in your gut. It’s been so long since you’ve touched a man, and even longer since you wanted to. You could half argue that you feel like you’re about to lose your virginity right now despite all those hook-ups in college. Still, you don’t even nod at him when you do it. Carefully tugging his pants down and watching the weight of his cock do the rest of the work for you. 

His legs spread wider as he points it up at you, a lewd scene, one that feels both disgustingly sexy and very, very, straight forward. You’ve never been like this with any other person. Or rather, no one has ever blatantly shown themselves like this to you. 

And still, Jake just looks at you. So much eye contact becoming more and more comfortable as he learns what you seem to like. He can feel the air in your apartment against the head of his cock, the cool air rushing past his shaft and causing him to shiver with a very quiet moan. He still only looks at you during this moment, wondering why you’ve let your hands fall to his thighs. Then he sees a new look in your eyes.

Are you…waiting to be told what to do? 

For some reason, he keeps forgetting that you’ve never had a stripper in your home before, let alone been seduced by one. Honestly though, he assumed you’d catch on by the point his cock was out. This isn’t for show anymore, he wants you. 

“Touch me?” He asks gently, reaching back down to your hands and urging you to grab his cock. “You don’t even have to move, I can do the rest–” He chokes out a groan mid-sentence as he feels you grasp him in your fist.

Such a silent woman beneath him. He can only read you in specific moments, this one not at all being one of them. You’re hesitant but willing, perhaps? You leave him questioning himself and his own motives, still wondering if that compliment you gave him was genuine or just part of your own little show. 

Yet still, you’re gripping him tightly and allow him to focus his hopes. Dancing beautifully into that little circle your hand creates for him. The best part is that when or if he ever actually dances to this song, it’s when he’s blatantly fucking someone. So the movements come naturally, just as they would if your legs were buckling and your pussy was spread open on him. So, basically, this dance is nothing short of fucking your fist, pretending to keep up an act that he so wishes you’d see through. 

He keeps his face intense, moving his shoulders and arms as if it’s easy for him to turn the tables and position you to where your legs are on his shoulders and he’s rubbing his cock against your, hopefully, soaked panties.  

It’s a struggle though, to not moan out in desperation when you tighten your grip on him. He watches your pupils blow out, and can see the way you’d now probably ask him to do just that. To put it on you, to shove it in you. And so, he slows his hips a bit and catches his breath, staring down at you in wait. 

“You’re really expecting me to get off all on my own?” He finally says in an exasperated breath to your stillness and silence. He really is, trying to act as though he can’t see the look in your eyes and how it’s changed since he started dancing. “Baby, don’t you want it?” He adds, now waiting to see if you’ll move your hand away from him.

You don’t though, to his surprise, you actually start moving your hand on him. You’re jerking him off, staring up at him like you want it, squeezing the head of his cock before dragging those pretty fingers back down. 

Instantly his eyes roll back. “Fuck, that’s good,” He compliments your hand, shaking a bit and shivering at the fact that you really just did that. “Can I stop pretending that I’m still dancing for you now?”  

You find it in yourself to chuckle now, nodding with a confident sort of smile. It hit you fairly quickly, actually, as you watched him chase his pleasure all by himself. He’s so hard, and so incredibly thick in your hand, you’d be stupid to say it didn’t turn you on. It’s that fact that you’ve barely said anything to him and he’s begging you to look at him, to watch him, to touch him. All of your nervousness slowly disappeared because it was being replaced with power. 

Now, that, you’re used to. You know what power feels like in all aspects of the working world, but never at home. Never when sex is involved. You’re always expected to play the part of a desperate woman in need of love, and that’s just not you. No, you’re a powerful woman with nerves that could kill you. And the way Jake parallels your working world, it’s almost too perfect. You’re used to men being beneath you, begging for your money, giving you all of their attention, apologizing for normal human errors. 

Jake isn’t exactly begging you for money, but he’s still begging for your hands. 

“No.” You finally say, relishing in the shock on Jake’s face. “Keep dancing, it’s what you’re being paid to do.”

His eyes fall a bit now as he nods his head. You almost feel his cock falter at the same time at your response, but you move your hand a bit faster. You grip a bit tighter, urging him to do whatever it is that’s on his mind. You want to see if he will actually do as he’s told now, considering you’re the one with the money to bring him back here. 

It’s endearing how he does his best, and honestly, his best probably far surpasses some of the most notable dancers on the market if you had any idea of how they were. It’s just a bit hard to continue this act for him when you’re gripping his cock in such a beautiful way. 

“You’re–” He pauses to hold in a moan, feeling the way you drag your hand in time with his dance. “You’re not going to ask me to touch you?” He finally adds, meeker than before, far less confidence. 

In fact, he’s hiding his face.

You smile in response, looking up at him with dark and wide pupils as you swallow each movement his body makes for you. Your ears are still ringing, unable to comprehend the music blasting in your sound system. Your focus is solely on him, your hands are on him, your confidence is because of him. 

The answer to that question should be a given, after all, shouldn’t he be well aware considering this little stunt he pulled that actions truly speak louder than words?

“No wonder she liked you so much.” You start, now loosening your grip on him just to see the way his hips frantically chase the warmth of your palm.

“Wait–” He asks slightly out of breath, cheeks flushed and bashful. “You really thought, I let her get me off like this?” 

It almost pisses him off that you’d say that to him, then again, it’s not like you knew that this specific instance is rare and reserved for very few clients. 

“You couldn’t even look at me properly thirty minutes ago, now you think you can make assumptions?” He argues, pushing away from you.

Your response is skewing an eyebrow at him, watching him fight for control as he pulls his hips back and shuffles off of you and onto his feet. You glance down at his cock and the way it stands painfully erect, twitching at the sudden lack of friction. 

“Is it wrong to assume when you very clearly want me to make you cum?” 

He stills himself, a blank expression turning to that of a devilish smile, eyes narrowing at you as he leans over you. 

“Are you suggesting that you’ll get me off?”

You smile, spreading your legs a bit and feeling the stickiness drip through your panties now. 

“She did tell me that some clients have gotten special treatment from you,” You mock him slightly, watching his eyes glue themselves to your thighs. You make a show to spread your legs a bit for him. “I also know that she was no such client.”

A small moment of silence as he devours you with his eyes, seemingly interested in the attitude you have towards him now.

“I also didn’t imagine your clients would be the ones getting you off.” 

Honestly, it’s like he hit the fucking jackpot with you. Challenging him, mocking him with his cock out in front of you. If you so much as wiggled your cunt in front of him, he would instantly be back on his knees, letting you soak his face in whatever way you please. 

“Normally they’d be jumping at the chance, you though–” Jake very nearly growls at you with a deepened voice. “You look like you’re the one who needs to get off, if anything to get that snarky grin off your face.”

“Go on then, dance.”

It’s almost like a game now, he feels. You know he’s trying to seduce you and it seems you’re enjoying the fact that you haven’t let him yet. He knows that you intend to let him, so yeah, fuck yeah, he’s going to play along. 

He raises a brow at you as he steps back once more, trying to ignore the fact that his cock is aching to be touched again. You still want your show? Good. He’ll fucking give you a show.

Jake does as he’s told, finally kicking his pants off in full and keeping his eyes on you the entire time. He watches the way your legs spread when he rubs his hands down his naked chest, straight down to his cock where he only briefly tugs at himself. He can almost see under your dress as you continue to spread your legs more and more, but the lighting is far too dim to see what his act is doing to you just yet.

When he saunters behind you, dipping his head by your neck and whispering the dirtiest part of the song into your ear, he can see your sharp intake of air, and he watches the way your breasts move with each breath he forces out of you, and the way your nipples perk through the fabric.

So, he stays here behind you with his hips pressed to the back of your couch, ghosting his hands over your neck, moving down your arms, and then to your chest. He doesn’t touch, because you still haven't asked yet, but he knows hovering alone is enough. It’s like he can feel the electricity beneath his fingers somehow reaching your skin. 

  And he continues to sing against your ear, leaning further forward to plant his hands on your thighs again, mostly because he’s already been given permission to touch you there. 

“More,” He gently demands between lyrics. “Spread them all the way.”

Jake watches for a moment from behind you, pressing his cock against the back of the couch the moment he sees your legs stretch open, your dress hiking up past your waist, enough now that he can at least see a glimpse of the skin closest to your pussy. 

“Ask me to touch you.” He pleads against your ear, trailing his fingers up your thighs enough to where he would need you to tell him to stop otherwise. “Just tell me you want it.” 

It’s silent save for the music playing, and his cock is aching so badly by this point that each time he rubs against the couch he’s almost breaking down to fucking beg you to let him touch you. That alone could make him cum, but god, you’re so good at playing hard to get even if it’s blatantly obvious that he’s already got you. 

You’re fucking playing with him, and he can’t decide if he loves it or hates it. 

Your silence is so damning to his dripping cock, and his skin feels so hot right now that he’s almost forgotten that he was paid to be doing anything that’s not this. 

“No.” You playfully respond, dangling yourself just out of reach. You breathe in deep though, knowing you can’t keep denying him for much longer with the way his hands are rubbing at you. “I like it better when you’re the one asking for it.” You lean your head back and rest it against the cushions of the couch, and he instantly moves from your neck to look down at you. 

Oh. 

“Cute.” He says, having no issue at all to be the one to ask, beg, plead, or cry. Whatever it takes to get a feel of you at this point. It’s just…new to him.

Another long moment of eye contact has him trailing his hands higher than before, almost to the point that there’s no skin on your thighs to touch that doesn’t involve your panty line. 

“May I?” He asks, leaning down a bit closer so that his face is mere inches from yours. “Will you take my fingers?” 

You could mistake this distance as something that should not be crossed between the two of you. Barely hearing his question at this moment, the only thing you want to do is to kiss him, and it hit you so fucking fast that you almost forgot he’s doing anything you ask of him. 

“Come again?” You smile, blinking up at him. 

He breathes in, seemingly frustrated.

“My fingers. Take them.” He says rather than asking this time, already moving his hands to trace up your panties and feeling the wetness seep through onto his fingertips. “You’re already dripping–baby,” He stops to moan at it, amazed by how fucking soaked you are. “I can imagine they’d slide right in.” 

Typically, you wouldn’t allow anyone to call you that. “Baby.” but coming from his mouth, it sounds fitting. It sounds seductive, sexy. It has your stomach in knots, actually, your hips bouncing up just slightly at his words with the pet name attached. Finally, you let him. Finally, you grind yourself against his fingers. 

“I’ll make you feel so good–” He groans at your movements, loving how desperate you suddenly appear despite pretending you weren’t going to work for your own pleasure. He continues to trace his fingers up and down just to feel the mess of you, the one that he created, and the one that he intends to make messier. 

“Moving your hips isn’t the answer though, baby.”

You swear he can read your mind, there’s no fucking way he would say it like that without knowing how you just internally admitted to liking it. 

“Yes,” You let out shortly, darting your eyes away from him. “I’ll take them.”

That breathy laugh he releases sounds sweet, almost dripping like syrup when he lays his head beside your neck. His soft singing picks back up as he listens to you now more than the music, his fingers continuously ghosting where he promised to put them, not yet moving your panties. 

Paired with it, his abdomen stays tense as he humps against your couch, his muscles locking up at the pleasure running through him in this position. Your hips lightly chase his fingers, up when his fingers move down, and he can’t help the shy smile that spreads across his lips. It’s one you don’t see, but the constant shift in your personality is something that keeps him on edge. Keeps him wanting more, to know more, to see and feel more of you. 

And when he finally reaches around you with his other hand, pulling your panties to the side and exposing your pussy, he watches you take over for him and push them down instead, offering far more than he anticipated. He watches as you kick them off your ankles almost elegantly, as if you could do this job of dancing better than he can.

“Eager?” He teases, knowing you won’t respond to that. And you don’t. It pleases him to know that at least by now, he can kind of read you. Yet, still, there’s nothing more at this moment that would please him more than getting to see you in full. To wander back around this couch and get a real good, close up look at what he’s doing to you. 

“You’re so wet right now.” He groans, knowing that you were soaked before and only hoping you’re dripping more and more for him now. His cock is weeping as much as he’d like for you to be, chasing any amount of friction he could have. And he can see his fingers slip and slide through your slick into places he wasn’t even attempting to touch just yet solely because of how wet you are. 

“You held out for so long,” He coos now with a soft breath against your neck, feeling your cheek nuzzle against his flexing arm. “Look at that,” Two of his fingers tease at your hole before– “they slipped right in.”

Your breathing is labored by this point, feeling him play with you as if he has all the time in the world to fuck with your head. Which is…nice. No rushing despite the time limit on his session, proving time and time again that you’re getting more than others get from him. Lucky you, that you can moan out without shame for him. 

And you do, grabbing his hand and practically fucking yourself with his fingers. That takes him by surprise as the warmth and sheer tightness envelopes his digits. You are excruciatingly sexy to him, he doesn’t even attempt to stop you.

In fact, he doesn’t even hold back now, meeting each chase of your hips with the force of his fingers plunging into you deeply, with full intention. He scissors them open, feeling your hole stretch around them beautifully enough to fit in a third. And god, you’re so fucking wet. He can hear the slapping of his soaked fingers inside of you pushing more and more of that arousal out. 

He moans blatantly against your ear now, easing you into talking back to you. 

“Bet you could take cock so well–” He murmurs, feeling you shiver against his grasp. “How long has it been? Hm?”

He’s talking to you, yes, but hyping himself up at the same time. The scent of your hair forcing a slight obsession with you in his mind. The way you feel, look, smell, move when you’re just inches from him like this. He knows you won’t respond to a goddamn thing he says too, but it doesn’t matter too much to him at this point. Because now, you’re whimpering.

Such a confident, well respected woman…fucking whimpering.

“What was that?” He asks playfully, running his other hand up your body until he gets to your neck. “Has it been that long?”

And for the first time, you were going to answer. For the first time, he doesn’t leave room for you to answer. Instead, you feel his palm resting flush against your neck, now pressing in and practically holding you down by the neck as he fucks his fingers into you faster. 

Painfully faster.

“Cry for me again,” He encourages you, wincing as his own hips frantically chase the back of your couch. “You’re allowed, come on, do it again.”

And because he’s working for it, because he’s doing so fucking well, you let out another choked moan. His hand straining your neck so tightly that any sound coming out sounds strained and desperate, even the sound of yourself right now ignites a fire inside of you. You can feel that grasp tighten each time his fingers fuck into you with a painful jab, his palm placed so perfectly that you can feel your clit being rubbed each time he pulls his hand back.

It’s…overwhelming.

“Yes, fuck- again.” He groans, bucking his hips forward and frantically lifting his head from your shoulder, all so he can look down at you. He’s heard you, now he wants to fucking see how desperate you are when you cry out. 

When you open your eyes again, wincing every few seconds at both the pleasure and pain of his desperate hands, all you can see is his face. All you can feel are those same long fingers threatening more and more cries from your chest. He’s hitting spots inside of you that haven't been touched in a long time. Feeling it now almost burns, even with the cold metal of that single ring on his finger against your neck. 

And when he tightens that hand on your neck once more, not only do you cry out, but he matches you with his own stuttered gasp. You strain to keep your eyes on him through this moment, watching the way his teeth appear to scrape at his bottom lip when the sound of you envelopes his ears. So, you do it again, and again, and again. 

His fingers only continue their aggressive assault inside of you, his palms still hitting your clit, and that other hand around your throat…honestly? You could fucking sing songs to him at this moment if he so wished it. 

“You’re shaking.” He comments, eyes flicking to your body. “Can you even breathe right now?”

His smile looks so fucking mean, knowing full well that you can’t breathe and only tightening his hand harder against your throat. Nevermind the fact that you never discussed this type of thing with him, fucking wasn’t even in the agenda. But now? Fuck it. You do like it. Maybe you even love it. The way you’re moaning for him is all either of you need to know. 

This time though, when you moan out and it’s sounding particularly raspy, he releases his hand from your throat and instantly leans down to your lips. He’s a bit shocked that you immediately strain your neck to kiss him. What he was going to do was degrade you. Now though, he’s just tasting the way you’re so desperate to kiss him. As if you’re wanting this to be real, to be intimate. 

Arguably, your idea was better than his own because now he can’t bring himself to degrade you. In fact, he was stupid to even consider such a fucking thing. Despite never kissing his clients, things with you have already lasted far longer than he’d normally allow. Things have already surpassed the intimacy level he allows too, even with the very few lucky women who get to touch him. He’s never asked for it, and he’s never gotten this much of his own pleasure out of finger fucking them. Not once has he ever fucked himself against a couch to hold himself back for a woman either. 

Maybe just this once, he can want it to be real too. Even if he leaves with a pocket full of cash, the fantasy right now is enough for him to accept it as is. If you want him to kiss you, he will fucking kiss you.

His pupils grow as his eyes close, slowing his fingers unintentionally as he focuses on your lips and tongue. Even his body against your couch relaxes and his hips slow to that of a sensual thrust forward, one that offers a long and painful drag against his already raw and reddened cock. You kiss him back better than he’s even been kissed before, and falling into it was terrifyingly easy. 

His brain nearly short circuits at the softness of it, allowing his hands to move on their own accord, cupping your jaw with one hand and emptying your pussy to rub your clit with the other. He’s intentionally deepening the kiss far past his own comfort level.

But he is comfortable, and that’s precisely what’s uncomfortable about it. 

“You can take it–” Jake mutters between kisses, more focused on your lips than the words he spilling to you. “You want more, right?” He continues, only now pulling back in a breath and waiting for you to adjust your eyes on his. 

Immediately, when you open your eyes they widen at him. Goddamn, was he this sexy before? Did he even look this into you when he was on your lap fucking your fist? Out of all of his begging, this…this right here. Are you really about to fuck a stripper? The man you were so against meeting just this morning? The man who has $600 in his bank account from your lovely, fucking adored and beautiful best friend? 

The man that you’re probably going to give the entirety of the contents in your purse to the moment he packs up and moves on as if this never happened?

Yes.

“I want more–” You say to him, blinking at his pretty eyes and intentionally rubbing your clit against his fingers, mostly because it appears as if he’s stopped functioning all together.

And before you can even blink, his fingers are pulled away and his presence is gone. You lift your head to watch him, cock still erect and heavy against his thigh as he goes directly to his bag. As if he knew it was going to happen, as if this was his plan before he even met you, he pulls out a condom and slips it on without so much as a sigh of relief.

After all, he does have to take precautions to be fucking an absolute stranger like this.

“Oh.” You huff in disappointment, not entirely meaning for him to hear it. 

He raises his eyes to you as he pulls at the end of the condom, offering plenty of space for whatever release he intends to have soon, but his eyes don’t seem concerned nor bothered. 

“What? You want it raw?” He asks playfully, wiggling his eyebrows briefly before making his way back to you. “That’ll require a bit more discussion, you know.”

Discussion that neither of you are willing to have solely because your pussy is throbbing and his cock appears to be more pathetic than it already was being strangled in that thin layer of latex. And without another word, allowing both of you to put that to rest for now, he’s right back over you, lifting your dress up and off of you. 

“Fuck.” He breathes out as your tits falls from their perfect place within the dress. The sopping wet couch beneath you only soaking up more of your slick as his words force more out of you. God, you feel so wanted. 

You keep your arms lifted to help him ease the dress entirely off of you, leaving you bare beneath him as he instantly goes to grab both tits, pressing them together before flicking both nipples with the tips of his fingers. 

Your body jolts at the sensation, feeling it run through you and swell your clit more than it already was. The ache is worse, your hole is pulsing, yearning, wanting to be filled. Still though, he takes his precious expensive time, leaning down and sucking one erect nub into his mouth and flicking it all the same with his tongue. 

“Right here?” He mouths from around your tit, eyes closed and tongue still focused elsewhere. “You want to be fucked here?” He mumbles again, realizing that his question will likely go unanswered. It’s very likely that he is going to fuck you right here, on your living room couch. Asking you such a thing was stupid, borderline cringe-worthy. 

To his surprise though, you lend him a small “no.” as you lace your fingers in his hair, pushing his lips to your other nipple just to feel the warmth of his tongue.

“No?” He questions, blinking up at you from your chest before biting gently around the sensitive bud against his mouth. “Where then?” 

To his dismay, your smile is still beautiful but the way you close your legs and sit yourself up from the slouched, relaxed position you were in disappoints him. Mostly because he’s now forced to stand up too, and even more so because he has to keep his head dipped in order to keep his mouth on that perfect nipple of yours. 

His disappointment fades as you hold his head there, feeling your legs almost buckle against him when he moans around it, sending vibrations through your chest. You remain gentle though, wobbling on your legs and shuffling forward, allowing him to continue his antics. Slowly but surely, you turn him around and back him up against the couch.

Only now, when you push him back and his teeth graze your sensitive nub do you realize that he’s so, so much needier than you expected. Even with his begging, his little disappointed sound didn’t go unnoticed. His brows are still furrowed now, not even paying attention to the fact that you’ve just shoved him down so that you can be the one straddling him. It’s cute, actually. Noticing how he was so intimidating when he came into your house, walking with confidence, dancing with intention, finger fucking you and choking you as if he had a right to do it…only to now look at him and the way he’s melting.

The way he’s needy, borderline puppy-like to be near you.

His eyebrows shoot up from that little face of disappointment though, when you pull yourself from his mouth and instead plant yourself right on his lap, letting your pussy lips envelope the underside of his cock as you grind up immediately.

It’s the first slippery touch his cock has felt all night and honestly? He’s been on edge this entire time. You grind so fucking beautifully, and it’s a first for him to realize that he’s entirely speechless.

You’ve rendered him incapable of speaking. 

“You’re cute, I don’t think you realize that.” You comment, gliding against his cock and watching his hands reach out to grip your waist, “Really cute.”

He doesn’t falter at your compliments, instead he just melts into it even more. His cheeks are permanently blushed as he leans forward to try and get your tits in his face again, and all you can do is grip his hair and let him. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the head of a cock bumping your clit, and you’d never forgive yourself for not letting yourself have this kind of fun more often. 

And Jake just gets whinier. His cock pulses and twitches to be inside of you all the while despite the discomfort of that latex layer likely needing to be replaced already. Still, his hands keep moving your waist, pushing and pulling you faster against him until– ah.

You angle yourself perfectly when he slides your upwards again. All you had to do was perk your ass out and wait for him to push you back down. Finally, he slides in without fully realizing that’s what was going to happen, and goddamn the sound he makes, fuck.

“Mmfuck,” He winces, digging his nails into your hips at the speed of which he bottomed out. The breath is knocked out of him and all you can do is stare down. Look at him now, so docile and sweet like he wasn’t fucking your livingroom floor prior to this. 

And the grip of you on him, so strong. The slide was so easy, so fast, that he genuinely is seeing stars at how good you feel wrapped around him. The velvet walls inside of you pulsing, pushing and squeezing his cock all over. He can’t help the sounds he makes, grunting and feeling that grip you have in his hair intensify his pleasure. 

Both of you now let out a long winded breathy groan at the sensation of your body adjusting to his, in all fairness, you had to grip onto something and his hair just so happened to be the best thing at the moment. He seems to love it though, so when you finally regain your senses of being absolutely fucking full, you pull at it again, tilting his head back so that you can see the expanse of his neck and the way it moves when he swallows. 

“Bounce.” He croaks out at you, eyes glistening with pure fucking hope that you will. 

And, well…when you feel his length pulse in place inside of you, you do exactly as he asked. You bounce, taking his full, thick cock each and every time. Not allowing a single inch of it to be neglected. All he can do in response is squint, trying to keep his eyes open through each breathy groan of praise and encouragement. He does lose himself entirely to the feeling of euphoria and the pain of how harshly you keep his head tilted back. 

He really didn’t think you could get any sexier, honestly, and as far as he’s concerned…if he moves right now he’s going to cum. So, he doesn’t. Instead, he just lazily smiles at you and lets his eyes finally close so that he can fall right back into the state of seeing nothing but stars.

Frustrated, yet incredibly turned on by the way you’ve just completely lost him, you bounce harder, then you sit flush against him, twisting and swirling your hips. Grinding forward back, counting how he moans each time you do something that feels particularly sensitive for him. And you hang onto that, repeating those actions, lifting your ass and sliding back down. Again and again, until your legs shake and your fingers threaten to pull his hair too hard.

“Look at you now,” You half-chuckle out of breath, hearing the wet slaps of skin on skin paired with his blatant and sensual moans drowning out the playlist that has been long forgotten. “You can’t even move.”

All he does is nod his head, that same lazy and cocky smile appears as if to insinuate that you’re damn fucking right he can’t. Like he’s proud of it. And you’re not going to ignore the fact that his hands are still on your waist either, gripping onto you so tightly that you fear he could draw blood if you move the wrong way.

“Keep going, baby–” He somehow manages to say to you. “Don’t stop.”

There it is. This entire time he’s been begging to fuck you, and now he’s finally begging you to fuck him. His voice still sounds like honey, with that impressively hard cock inside of you pulsing so constantly that you could probably feel him in your stomach if you were to press against it. 

“Mhm,” You answer him, promising that you won’t stop through just a half-moan and a long winded intake of air. Honestly? At this very moment, you feel like you’re sitting on a throne. Jake, obviously, being said throne but whatever. The fucking power he’s making you feel is nothing short of alluring. 

And now, as that power goes to your head, you opt to grind rather than bounce for him now. Your hips aren’t as erratic, yet still he tenses up for you, forcing his cock to somehow feel even harder as you fuck it into yourself through lazy drags of your clit against his pelvis. 

If you keep going like this, you could cum in an instant. But before you can even finish that thought, you look down at him on instinct due to his sudden silence. 

His eyes are squeezed shut tightly, and his mouth is open in a silent moan. You can see that he’s not breathing, seemingly holding his breath even after you release his hair. His head lolls back with that same expression, and that’s when you feel his fingernails dig.

“Oh,” You moan, now resuming your grinding much harder now, making a point to bump your clit repeatedly against him. “Fuck, are you cumming right now?”

Still he doesn’t respond, you can only feel his hips stutter under you despite trying to remain entirely still and stiff for you. You know that now is when you need to be chasing, because you’ll be damned if you’re not going to cum with him inside of you. 

You want to be full like this, you want to squeeze him, to play with his sensitive cock even if it starts to soften. He’s too pretty, too fucking pretty when he whimpers. And so, you continue grinding, up until you’re on the brink of your orgasm but not quite there yet. To the point his cock is only half in you with the way you’re angling your clit against him, chasing your own high so aggressively that you barely feel his fingers tightening on you again. 

Jake shoots his head back up, eyes opening as the sensitivity hits him quicker than he would have liked, but you don’t relent. The pain is intense from how hard you’re riding him, but he can see how close you are, the image alone compliments that sensitivity he’s feeling right now. 

He seethes out painful praises to you as your desperate cunt finally reaches orgasm, squeezing against his softening length so tightly that he can’t help but whimper with you. Still, he studies your face through his own winces, shuddering at the way you close your legs around him despite them being forced to stay open in this position. You try to curl into the pleasure, as if you wish you could disappear completely alongside it. 

And god, the way you grip at his arms for leverage as you shake through it. Dare he say…he’s fond of you. It still hurts, but it kind of hurts more when he knows it’s over. Mostly because it feels like he’s been in this room with you for days, knowing that’s not true. Surely he’s stayed longer than your allotted time with him, but you seemed to have given him something worth staying for at least.

When you slump over him, he almost wants to cry from how fucking sensitive he is right now. Thankfully, you seem sensitive too as you wince before he does, remaining as gentle as you can when you reach down to the base of his cock and hold the condom, allowing him to slide out of you at his own pace. 

And then, the playlist comes to an abrupt end at just the wrong moment, because it forces Jake to realize that he hadn’t stayed at all over his paid time frame. Now, all he can hear is the way his breath is entirely too uneven compared to any of his sessions with prior clients like this. He’s breathing much too fondly for you, or rather, not breathing well because of you. He can’t just…go home can he?

“You okay?” You ask to the slight panicked look on his face, seeing how he stares straight up at the ceiling, not blinking, no readable expression. “Jake?”

He shakes himself out of it, eyes slowly moving and blinking to look at you.

“That–” He tries to talk, genuinely, he does. “Um…”

The change in atmosphere almost freaks you out. Isn’t this what he wanted? You saw the way he lost himself there briefly though, you can admit. None of this was even that rough or kinky, so you’re a bit confused as to why he’s acting like this.

Maybe you even feel a bit guilty. Like you’re the problem. So, you silence yourself and lift onto weak legs to stumble and find your dress. You throw it on quickly, hiding your shame that he so wanted to see just fifteen minutes ago. Then, you head for your purse and grab every single bill you have folded neatly inside. 

Just like that, you place the money in his shaking hand and can’t bare to look at him.

“Wha-” He starts, licking his dried lips and sitting up a bit too quickly. “Why are you giving me so much?”

“It’s your tip.” You try to say casually as you clear your throat. “You can shower too, if you’d like.” 

Jake holds his breath, hoping you don’t genuinely think he did all of that for the money. He was already paid to be here, the whole…you know, fucking thing, was his doing. What happened was because he wanted it, and…he still does. Are you truly just strictly back to business like this? You literally just handed him his rent for the month and then some, it kind of amazes him. The audacity. As if he’s never been handed handsome sums of cash from drunken lonely women. You aren’t a woman who needs him, and yet you pay like you did. 

“Shower with me?” He forces himself to ask, because he knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t. After all, this tip feels like a rejection of what just happened. Hush money, even. 

He doesn’t know what just crept into this room through the fucking silence, but he doesn’t like it. And it seems you don’t either, because you instantly comfort him with a smile and a step forward. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He didn’t intend to spend the night, free of charge no less, but he did. All of that including some embarrassing talk involving the seriousness of how this is not normal for him. 

Surprisingly, you believe him. 

After the shower, the mood had shifted into something that felt natural and less rehearsed. He wasn’t just some stripper you could call over with a downpayment of $600, he was Jake, a man trying to make ends meet in a city far too expensive even for you if you’re being honest. 

Jake, a man wanted by several women. You, on the other hand, feel the need to mend your lonely and stone-cold heart with him, however much that may cost. Not to fall in love, or to fill any type of voice. If anything, you want to be taken care of in specific ways, and you’d like to take care of him in turn. 

So, when he grimaced at your joke, saying that he would practically be your sugar baby and that you’d run off all of his other business out of need to continuously be fucked by him and him alone, you almost stopped pressing the matter.

Because you would run off all his clients solely for keeping him too busy with you to go to them. You would be paying him every time, making damn sure he’s well taken care of and financially stable. 

Jake did notice how you looked disappointed, quickly backtracking his grimace.

“Wait, you’re serious?” 

You nod shyly, blinking at him.

“It’s not like we have to sleep together every time, you won’t even have to dance for me anymore.” You argue, knowing that’s at least a half-lie. “All I ask is that you don’t fuck your other clients if you’re still seeing me, and intending to..you know–”

Jake nods happily, without question even.

“So, what happens if I’m horny and you’re not available then?”

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“Jerk off like a normal person?”

Fair enough.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

man, i forgot how lame this fic is but yknow what? good for me. jake is so fuckin’ fine fr I DON’T EVEN CAREEEEEEEEEEE. pls reblog and leave feedback on my work :D

[fushiguro-megloomy]

Strawberry Wine

Pt 2. After the Distance

[part 1] pairing: modern au!viktor x artist!reader Tags: porn with plot, viktor is a tease (ツ), lots of buildup, smut, no use of y/n, afab!reader wc: 3.8k  notes: It’s here :’) i went over this like 25 times and got a friend to read it to make sure it was good enough so don't let it flop yall asjhashg art from pinterest, dividers from chachachannah, cafekitsune & nicodefresas

The next couple of months were… interesting. While you thought you knew Viktor—at least as well as someone could after a few months—you were quickly discovering that beneath his easy charm and quick wit lay a patient, calculated man, with a streak of something far less innocent. Slick, greedy even. And that side of him was making it increasingly difficult to keep things under wraps.

You’d laid it down early on that this thing between you—whatever it was—would stay between the two of you. Not that you thought Jayce would care, necessarily. If anything, your reasons for secrecy stemmed entirely from your own reservations. You were both workaholics, after all. Your galleries were finally gaining more traction, and Viktor had his research and the lab. Not to mention you’d promised yourself long ago that your career would come first. No distractions, no derailments—especially not for a man.

And yet, your resolve was starting to crack.

Again, you were learning Viktor to be a slick man, one with nimble fingers, skilled not just in tinkering with tech but in unraveling you entirely. Fingers that found their way under the table at dinner, brushing lightly over your thigh and leaving you fumbling for words mid-response to one of Jayce’s questions. Fingers that pinched your ass when no one was looking, the sudden assault making you glare at him—only to catch the smug tilt of his mouth.

But it wasn’t all teasing. Those same fingers smoothed your hair back from your face in the aftermath, his cool, calloused thumb tracing over your kiss-swollen lips with a tenderness that left your heart beating recklessly. His touch was addictive, and you were a hopeless addict.

Of course, like any addict, withdrawals were inevitable.

The boys had been called away—a business deal overseas that was only supposed to last a weekend instead turning into a nine day ordeal. You’d kept yourself busy with work, trying to throw yourself into painting and coordinating for another upcoming gallery showing. But your thoughts had a nasty habit of drifting, especially every time Jayce would video call with a trip update. You smiled, nodding along as he happily recounted the details of their successful presentations and the eventual closing of the deal.

It wasn’t Jayce’s enthusiasm that distracted you—it was the figure in the background. Viktor, half out of frame, often hunched over a small workspace or absently flipping through pages of a notebook. His focus, sharp as ever, made your pulse quicken despite yourself.

Once, during one of these calls, Viktor looked up. His eyes flicked toward the camera, meeting yours for just a fraction of a second. It was nothing, really—just a glance. But it felt like a spark, sending heat crawling up your neck and pooling low in your stomach.

You tried to ignore it.

“...And then Viktor had the most insane suggestion about combining thermochemical—oh, speak of the devil!” Jayce’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

Viktor leaned into frame, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “I’m sure it wasn’t that insane,” he said smoothly, his voice making your chest tighten.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Jayce replied, rolling his eyes before glancing back at you. “Anyway, the good news is we’re wrapping up here. We should be flying back the day after tomorrow. You’ll finally get some peace and quiet without me bombarding you with updates!”

“Peace and quiet? Jayce, I’d hardly call your calls a disturbance,” you replied lightly, ignoring the sudden spike of anticipation at his words.

Viktor spoke up again, his voice smoother this time. “I’m sure it’ll be good to get back. Familiar surroundings and all that.” His eyes flicked to you briefly, and something in that gaze made your breath hitch. Jayce was oblivious, grinning and nodding along, but Viktor’s yellow gold eyes lingered just long enough to make your stomach twist.

“Yeah, definitely,” you said, forcing yourself to keep your tone even. “Safe travels when the time comes.”

“Thanks! Anyway, I’ll let you go. We’re calling it an early night over here,” Jayce said, stifling a yawn.

The call ended shortly after, leaving you staring at the blank screen. You sighed, leaning back in your chair, fingernails tapping anxiously against the edge of the desk.

-

The gallery buzzed with energy, the hum of conversation weaving through the air as you moved from piece to piece, guiding potential buyers with practiced ease. Your smile was poised, your tone professional as you answered their questions and described your work, but the sting of your bitten cuticles betrayed the nerves you kept buried under layers of polished charm.

Despite your best efforts, your thoughts occasionally wandered. Viktor and Jayce were due back tonight—late, you’d told yourself more than once. You’d have time to finish the showing, decompress, and slip into something casual. It was fine. You were fine.

Still, your mind conjured flashes of Viktor's teasing smirk, the low timbre of his voice in your ear, and—

“You’ve created such movement here,” a man’s voice broke into your thoughts, gesturing at a vibrant abstract piece nearby. “It feels alive.”

You shifted, regrounding yourself. “Thank you,” you said warmly, stepping closer. “That was the intention—a sense of fluidity and life, as if it’s always in motion.”

His smile was appreciative and you slid into explanation, gesturing with your hands to emphasize the piece’s details as you settled back into your element.

The man nodded thoughtfully, offering a few more comments before excusing himself to examine another painting. You exhaled quietly, straightening your shoulders as you turned your attention back to the gallery space. 

The evening had gone smoothly so far, but then your gaze swept toward the entrance and the world seemed to narrow to a single point.

Viktor.

His posture was composed and confident as ever. The low, warm light caught the angled lines of his face, and his eyes were already fixed on you. Your pulse quickened as he began making his way across the room. He moved with deliberate grace, the tap of his cane almost rhythmic against the polished floor.

You swallowed, willing yourself to remain composed as he closed the distance between you. He looked every bit as devastating as you remembered—perhaps even more so after days of his absence.

When he reached you, he didn’t greet you with words right away. His eyes swept over you, lingering as though taking in every detail.

“You’re not supposed to be here yet,” you said, your voice carefully steady despite the racing of your pulse.

“Plans changed,” he replied smoothly. “We caught an earlier flight.”

“And Jayce?”

“Jetlag,” Viktor said with a shrug. “He went home. I thought I’d make better use of my time.”

His tone was calm, his words innocent enough, but the way his gaze dipped to your lips and then back to your eyes betrayed the true intent behind his presence.

“You didn’t have to come.”

His brow arched, and he tilted his head slightly. “And miss seeing you command a room like this? Never.”

Your cheeks warmed under his scrutiny, but you quickly diverted the conversation, gesturing toward the artwork nearby. “Here for the paintings, then?”

“Here for you,” he corrected, his tone sending a shiver across your skin.

Before you could respond, a passing guest offered a polite nod, drawing your attention away just long enough for Viktor to step closer, wrapping an arm around you in what seemed like a polite, casual embrace. 

To anyone watching, it was nothing out of the ordinary—a perfectly respectful greeting. But as his arm pressed against your back, his fingers slid lower, tracing a line down your spine. The movement was slow, deliberate, and his fingertips dipped just beneath the waistband of your skirt. You held your breath.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” he said, his voice carrying that infuriating mix of control and amusement. 

But before he fully stepped back, his lips brushed near your ear, his breath balmy against your skin. “I missed you,” he murmured. “Malá hvězda…”

Little Star—he’d first called you that in passing, after Jayce had teased you about becoming a celebrity in your field. It had been a lighthearted comment, a playful quip that Viktor had picked up on. But over time, it stuck and became something far more intimate. 

As the evening wore on, you felt the weight of his gaze wherever you moved. Whether you were explaining a piece to a potential buyer or exchanging pleasantries with a collector, you were keenly aware of him in your peripherals. He never lingered too close, always giving you space to work, but his presence was impossible to ignore.

By the time the gallery emptied, you felt wrung out—by the crowd, by the evening, but mostly by him. The cab ride was quiet, the only sound was the hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of the driver’s radio. You sat beside Viktor, close but not touching, though the air between you felt suffocatingly warm. Every bump in the road jostled you, and every brush of his leg against yours set your nerves fraying.

You glanced at him, trying to gauge his mood, but his expression was maddeningly calm, almost unreadable. He leaned back against the seat, one hand resting on the door, the other draped casually over his knee. But his eyes—his eyes betrayed him.

Dark and glinting, they flicked to you, and the corner of his mouth twitched, the barest hint of amusement at your visible tension.

The driver spoke up, asking Viktor something about the best route, and he replied smoothly in that light, accented voice that had been driving you mad all night. You caught his profile in the dim light—sharp lines and soft lips—and you had to look away, your nails digging into the edge of your seat.

“Are you always this restless?” he murmured suddenly, his tone pitched low enough for only you to hear.

You swallowed, the flush creeping up your neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His smirk was a flash of teeth, quick and dangerous. He shifted, his leg pressing more deliberately against yours, the subtle movement enough to make your pulse skip.

“I think you do,” he said, his voice almost teasing. He let his hand drop to the seat between you, his knuckles brushing your thigh. It sent a jolt through you.

You shot him a look, your jaw tightening as you leaned slightly closer, your voice a low hiss. “Do you ever get tired of your games?”

His gaze flicked to your lips before dragging slowly back to your eyes. “Not when I’m winning.”

Before you could reply, the cab took a sharp turn, throwing you slightly off balance. His hand caught your leg to steady you, firm and sure. He didn’t let go.

Instead, in the shadows of the backseat, his fingers slid upwards, the warmth of his palm scorching through the fabric of your stockings. You sucked in a breath, barely audible over the noise of the engine, but your heart raced.

His pinky finger grazed the edge of your underwear, teasing the barest edge of lace. The movement was deliberate, slow, and utterly torturous. He kept his eyes forward, his expression calm, as if nothing were happening.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, and you pressed your knees together instinctively, but his hand didn’t budge. His thumb stroked a slow, lazy line against your inner thigh, just shy of the place you needed him most, and it was all you could do not to squirm.

When the cab slowed at a red light, he leaned in, his breath brushing hot against your ear. “Careful, malá hvězda,” he whispered, his voice a dark, velvet tease. “We wouldn’t want the driver to notice, would we?”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip to stifle the sound that threatened to escape. He finally withdrew his hand, the loss both a relief and an ache.

The cab rolled to a stop in front of your apartment building, and you practically bolted out, desperate for the cool night air to calm your overheated skin. Viktor was right behind you, but you didn’t dare look back at him.

The elevator ride up felt like an eternity. Each passing floor seemed to stretch on longer than the last, the tension between you thickening with every second. Viktor didn’t help. He stood next to you, but the air around him seemed to thrum with barely contained desire. His once teasing touches were growing bolder, and his breath seemed to waver every time he ebbed closer, his body pressing into yours ever so slightly. The subtle shift in his posture was enough to let you know just how much he was also losing control, how much he wanted you.

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and your apartment was only a few steps away. You barely made it to the door before he was there, crowding you against the frame. His fingers slipped from your arm to your waist, tugging you closer, pulling you in with an urgency that sent a shiver through your entire body.

The key turned in the lock, and you barely had time to step inside before Viktor followed, the door closing behind him with an almost predatory click. In one swift movement, he had you pressed against the wall, cane clacking to the floor and his lips on yours. There was no hesitation now—no games, no teasing.

His mouth was hot, claiming, and you couldn’t help but respond in tandem, body arching into his. 

“Its been too long," he practically purred against your clavicle, the vibrations of his voice going straight to your core.

"Too long," you agreed, though the words came out hoarse, breaking into a soft whimper as his teeth nipped at your skin.

The sharp edge of his bite was quickly soothed by his tongue, a slow sweep that had your knees threatening to give way. His hands slid under your shirt, fingers skimming over your bare skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He groaned softly, his breath warm against your neck when his hips pressed into yours, a deliberate grind that stole the air from your lungs. Your hands weren't idle, either, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. 

Your fingertips dragged over the expanse of his chest, and the subtle hitch in his breath sent a rush of satisfaction through you. His lips never left your skin, trailing fiery kisses along the column of your throat as his fingers tugged your shirt up and over your head, discarding it without a second thought.

He took a moment to drink you in, his amber eyes dark with desire, before his hands were on you again, possessive and unyielding. With a sudden shift, his grip tightened around your waist, and before you could react, he spun you around. The cool press of the wall against your chest was sudden as he caged you in.

His fingers traced the curve of your back, then moved to the clasp of your bra, sliding it from your shoulders.

"Viktor," you breathed, your voice shaky with anticipation as his hands roamed over your now-bare skin, pinching your nipples and mapping every inch of you like he couldn't get enough.

Your hips moved instinctively, grinding back into the rigid buldge of his slacks seeking out friction. His low, guttural groan in response sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your core, surely staining your panties. His touch, ever restless, slid down your sides and found its way to your thighs, the rough glide of his palms pulling your skirt up around your waist.

The cool air of the apartment prickled your skin as he moved and his fingers curled around the delicate fabric of your stockings. A sharp, audible tear filled the room as his impatience got the better of him, the fragile material giving way beneath his touch. The sound was quickly accompanied by a gasp from you, although it was too late to protest as his hand slid over the bare skin of your ass, his touch unapologetic.

“I'll buy you a new pair.”

His tone was sharp, yet quickly drowned out by the metallic clinking of his belt buckle. It was a wonder you'd made it this long, your head practically swimming, knees trembling as his slacks hit the floor. You wanted to see him, craning your neck in a pathetic attempt to catch a glimpse of the body you'd been craving for a week and a half, but he was quicker. 

His grip found the nape of your neck, pushing your cheek back against the drywall while his other hand snaked its way between your legs. A mewl escaped you as those same slender fingers pulled the now sticky lace to the side, wasting no time proding your entrance before pushing two digits inside. Your eyes squeezed shut and you heard him exhale, clearly satisfied with the way your greedy walls practically sucked him in. His fingers flexed, curling a few times in a weak attempt to stretch you out and earning a few muffled whimpers from your shaky form. 

“Please-” it was all you could manage, squirming under his hold, feeble hands reaching blindly for him. 

He was certainly in no place to deny you, especially not as his cock grew angrier by the second, flushed and leaking with precum. When he retracted his fingers it was audible, a squelch that made his mouth water, but there was no time. His hand left your nape, moving to the base of your spine to coax you into a deeper arch and you eagerly obliged while he lined himself up. 

That first languid roll of his hips was pure bliss, the slight burn as his cock stretched you out left you slack-jawed and all the time apart was suddenly forgotten, instantly fucked out of your brain. Viktor was no more immune, a whiney moan tumbling from his mouth as you clenched around him. It was clear neither of you would last very long when the energy quickly became feverish, all semblance of control lost with hips desperately rutting together as pleasure seared its way through every nerve in your body. 

This time when you craned your neck towards him, he relented. His body pushed impossibly closer, chest flush against your back while a possessive hand caught your jaw, reeling you in for an open mouthed kiss. It was messy and unrestrained, his hips never slowing. 

“I missed you-” It fell past your lips into his mouth before you could stop it. 

There was a tiny stutter in his rhythm, almost unnoticeable as his brows pulled together in surprise. It was out of character for you to say such things, raw and unguarded, but tonight felt different— like the time apart had stripped away your defences. 

His grip on your jaw tightened, firm but not cruel, just enough to remind you who was in control. A tiny smirk of satisfaction crept onto his mouth as he pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. “I missed you.”

The sincerity of the moment cut through the heat just for a second before his lips were on yours again. This kiss felt deeper, more deliberate as his free hand skidded down your stomach before landing between your legs. You broke from the kiss with a shaky moan, head falling forward against the wall as he began smooth circles over your neglected clit. His lips trailed the crux of your jaw, down the back of your neck as his movements became rougher. He ignored the pain threatening his leg, breath heavy and uneven as he bit on the curve of your shoulder, his own wanton moans vibrating off your skin.

You could feel your orgasm creeping in, white hot and consuming in the pit of your stomach. The dual sensation of his hips grinding against yours and the quick motions of his wrist between your thighs had your vision blurring at the edges. As if he sensed it, he adjusted his angle, moving deeper and more intentional. His focus was now singular, chasing every reaction you gave him, determined to push you to your limits.

Your body contorted into his, a ragged cry escaping you as the tension coil in you tightened. He grunted lowly against your shoulder, his own voice taking on a wobble as his own orgasm loomed not far behind. 

“Let go for me”

It was all you needed to tip over the edge, toes curling and your body going rigid in his grasp as pleasure rolled over you in unrelenting waves. The sounds spilling from your lips were downright shameless, and you were certain your neighbors would despise you for it.

Viktor wasn't far behind, his rhythm faltering as he chased his release. His hips stuttered against yours, a broken groan tearing from his throat as he came, your body greedily pulling him deeper and milking him for every last bit. His body slumped against yours, both of you trembling, a tangle of shaky limbs held upright only by the support of the wall.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of labored breathing before Viktor straightened up, gently slipping out of you. The absence of his touch left a lingering ache, but as you turned to face him, the sight of his disheveled hair, the sheen of sweat on his skin, and the smirk tugging at his lips had you smiling—soft, dazed, completely spent.

You laughed softly, a breathless sound, leaning against the wall for support. He chuckled in return, winded but fond, before stepping closer to cup your face. His thumb brushed over your cheek, his gaze softening as he drew you into another kiss.

This one was different. Slower. Softer. As always. That was the first time you let him stay the night.

The next morning, you woke to a tangle of sheets and the soreness of a night well-spent. Viktor was still sleeping soundly beside you, his face half-buried in your comforter, dark lashes fanning against his cheek. He looked so peaceful that it made your chest ache. A sharp knock at the door pulled you from your leering. Groaning softly, you slipped out of bed, throwing on a robe and tying it hastily. The moment you swung the door open your heart nearly stopped.

“Morning,” Jayce greeted brightly, a fast-food bag in hand. Before you could say a word, he stepped inside as if he owned the place. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by. Thought I’d bring you breakfast.”

Your stomach flipped in panic as you quickly moved to block his path, though he was already surveying the room with his usual casual ease.

“Jayce, uh, now’s not really—”

He stopped mid-step, his brow furrowing as his gaze landed on the floor. His lips parted slightly, confusion flickering over his features.

“Is that… Viktor’s cane?”

©lilsworks 2024

Taglist: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @thatlittlered @itsjustbell @sseleniaa @theepitomeofswag @jupiteress @rattini @milwaukeeslush @catedunlapgodu @worldseer

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Art of Surrender | LN4

❀˖°𓍼♡ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N, dealing with back pain, reluctantly lets Lando, give her a massage. As his hands work through her tension, an undeniable chemistry builds between them. The massage becomes a turning point, revealing unspoken emotions and desires.

❀˖°𓍼♡ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❀˖°𓍼♡ word count ━━━━━━━ 3.1k

❀˖°𓍼♡ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The evening air was warm as Y/n sat on her couch, wincing every time she shifted. Her back still ached—four days later, and the damn furniture delivery was still haunting her. She’d tried everything: hot showers, over-the-counter painkillers, even a heating pad. Nothing worked. The thought of calling for help crossed her mind, but who would she call? Her friends were busy, and her family… well, they were miles away. She sighed, leaning back into the cushions just as her doorbell rang.

She frowned. Who could that be? Groaning, she pushed herself up and shuffled to the door, peeking through the peephole. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him standing there, his signature lopsided grin and those piercing blue/ green eyes. Lando.

“Hey, Y/n,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing as always. “Miss me?”

She opened the door, trying to keep her expression neutral. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, holding up a bottle of wine in one hand and a bag of snacks in the other. “Thought you might need some company. And, let’s be honest, I missed seeing your face.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. She stepped aside to let him in, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered. Stop it, she told herself. He’s just being nice. Lando had been nothing but persistent since they met a few months ago, always finding ways to show up in her life, always making sure she knew how much he liked her. But she couldn’t let herself believe it. Not really. Someone like him? It didn’t make sense.

“You look tense,” Lando said, setting the wine and snacks down on her coffee table. “Everything okay?”

“Just my back,” she muttered, sitting back down on the couch. “I had to move some furniture the other day, and now I’m paying for it.”

Lando’s brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you call someone for help?”

She shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Didn’t think of it.”

He shook his head, chuckling softly. “You’re too stubborn, you know that?” He moved closer, sitting next to her. “Here, let me help. I can give you a massage.”

Her eyes widened. “What? No, that’s—”

“Come on,” he interrupted, his tone playful but insistent. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Besides, I’ll go get some massage oil or cream. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Before she could protest further, he was already heading for the door, leaving her gaping after him. “Wait, Lando—!”

“Be right back!” he called over his shoulder, disappearing into the hallway.

Y/n groaned, flopping back onto the couch. This is ridiculous. But deep down, a small part of her was relieved. She trusted Lando—maybe more than she wanted to admit. When he returned, she hesitated again, but the determination in his eyes made it impossible to refuse.

“Fine,” she mumbled, leading him to her bedroom. “But just the back.”

He laughed softly. “Sure, just the back.”

Y/n disappeared into the room, shutting the door behind her. She stood there for a moment, her heart pounding. What am I doing? Slowly, she undressed, leaving only a pair of short shorts on. She glanced at herself in the mirror, biting her lip. This felt… intimate. Too intimate. But she climbed onto the bed anyway, lying on her stomach and burying her face in her arms.

“Ready?” Lando’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly.

The door creaked open, and she heard him step inside, the soft rustle of the bag he carried. Moments later, she felt the bed dip as he kneeled beside her. His hands, warm and gentle, pressed against her back, spreading the cool massage oil over her skin. She shivered, not just from the temperature, but from the way his touch seemed to ignite something deep inside her.

His fingers worked expertly, kneading the tension out of her muscles. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation. It felt incredible—too incredible. Gradually, his hands began to wander lower, skimming the sides of her waist, brushing dangerously close to her breasts. Her breath hitched, and she felt a warmth pooling between her legs.

“Relax,” Lando murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Let me take care of you.”

She nodded weakly, unable to form words. His hands continued to roam, moving toward her hips, then down her thighs. Each touch was slow, deliberate, sending jolts of electricity through her body. Her shorts felt damp, sticking to her skin, and she prayed he wouldn’t notice.

But of course, he did.

Lando’s fingers paused near the hem of her shorts, his gaze fixed on the thin fabric clinging to her. He swallowed hard, feeling his own arousal building. Fuck. He hadn’t expected this, but now that he was here, all he could think about was how badly he wanted her.

“Turn over,” he said suddenly, his voice husky.

Y/n blinked, lifting her head to look at him. “What?”

“Your front,” he explained, his eyes dark with desire. “If you want, I can massage that too.”

She hesitated, her heart racing. This was crossing a line—a line she wasn’t sure she was ready to cross. But the way he was looking at her, the heat in his gaze… it was impossible to resist.

Slowly, she turned onto her back, her cheeks burning. Lando’s eyes scanned her body, lingering on her chest before meeting her gaze. Without a word, he applied more oil to his hands and began massaging her stomach, his touch feather-light yet electrifying. Every brush of his fingers sent shivers down her spine.

Then, without warning, his hands drifted higher, cupping her breasts. Y/n gasped, her back arching instinctively. Lando’s thumbs circled her nipples, teasing them until they hardened beneath his touch. She bit her lip, trying to stifle the moan threatening to escape.

“Look at you,” Lando whispered, his voice thick with desire. “So beautiful.”

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. For the first time, she allowed herself to truly see him—the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered, the way his body reacted to hers. Her eyes flickered downward, noticing the obvious bulge in his jeans.

Lando followed her gaze and smirked. “Like what you see?”

She blushed, but there was no hiding the truth anymore. “Yes,” she admitted softly, surprising even herself.

His smirk softened into a genuine smile, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Good. Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Y/n’s breath hitched as Lando’s fingers traced the hem of her shorts, his touch feather-light yet deliberate. “Should I stop?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his lips still close to her ear. His warm breath sent shivers down her spine, and she could feel the heat pooling between her legs.

She shook her head, barely able to form words. “No.”

His smirk returned, and his fingers slipped under the fabric, grazing the sensitive skin of her thighs. Her body tensed momentarily, but then relaxed as his hands moved higher, massaging the curve of her hips. “You’re so tense,” he whispered, his voice laced with concern. “Let me help you relax.”

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into the sensation of his touch. His fingers worked their magic, kneading the muscles in her lower back before trailing down to the small of her back. She could feel the wetness between her thighs growing, a testament to how much he was affecting her.

Lando’s hands paused, and she heard him draw in a sharp breath. “Y/n...” he said, his voice husky. “You’re soaking.”

Her face flushed, but she didn’t open her eyes. “I know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He gently tugged at her shorts, and she lifted her hips slightly, allowing him to slide them off. The cool air brushed against her exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from his gaze. She felt vulnerable, yet completely safe in his presence.

His fingers grazed her inner thighs, and she trembled. He continued his exploration, moving closer to her core, his movements slow and deliberate. When his fingers finally reached her wetness, she gasped, her hips instinctively arching towards his touch.

“So wet for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He circled her entrance with his fingers, teasing her without giving her what she truly wanted.

She whimpered, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. “Lando... please...”

He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the effect he had on her. “Please what?”

“Touch me,” she pleaded, her voice trembling with need.

He obliged, sliding a finger inside her slowly, watching her reaction intently. She moaned, her walls clenching around him as he began to move his finger in and out. Her breaths came in short, uneven gasps, and she could feel herself spiraling closer to the edge.

But just as she was about to reach her climax, he pulled his hand away, leaving her yearning for more. She opened her eyes, glaring at him. “Why did you stop?”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers. “Because I want to taste you first,” he whispered before capturing her lips in a searing kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, mimicking the way he wanted to explore her body.

When he finally broke the kiss, he trailed his lips down her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses along her collarbone. He paused at her chest, taking one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing until she was squirming beneath him.

But he didn’t linger there for long. His lips continued their journey downward, kissing a path across her stomach before reaching her inner thighs. He gripped her hips firmly, holding her in place as he positioned himself between her legs.

She could feel his breath on her most sensitive area, and she shivered in anticipation. “Lando...” she breathed, her hands tangling in his hair.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark with lust. “Relax,” he said, his voice soothing yet commanding. “Let me take care of you.”

And then his tongue was on her, licking a slow, torturous path up her slit. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as pleasure coursed through her veins. He lapped at her hungrily, savoring every drop of her essence, his hands gripping her thighs to keep her from squirming away.

His tongue flicked over her clit, and she saw stars, her entire body trembling with the intensity of the sensations. He alternated between swirling his tongue around her sensitive bundle of nerves and thrusting it inside her, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

She couldn’t hold back anymore. With a final cry, she came undone, her orgasm washing over her in waves of ecstasy. He didn’t stop until she had ridden out every last tremor, his tongue continuing to tease her even as she collapsed back onto the bed, spent and breathless.

He crawled up her body, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. “You taste amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

She smiled weakly, still recovering from the mind-blowing experience. “You’re incredible,” she replied, her voice hoarse.

He grinned mischievously, his hand trailing down her body once more. “And we’re just getting started.”

Y/n lay on the bed, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Lando hovered above her, his eyes dark with desire, a small smirk playing on his lips. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension between them so thick it was almost tangible.

“You’re beautiful,” Lando murmured, his voice low and husky. His fingers traced a slow path down her arm, sending shivers rippling through her. “I’ve wanted this—wanted you—for so long.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, but she still hesitated, her walls firmly in place despite the intimacy they had just shared. “Lando…” she started, unsure of how to respond.

He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers in a tender kiss that made her head spin. When he pulled away, his eyes locked onto hers. “Don’t overthink it, Y/n. I know you feel it too. This.” He gestured between them, his hand trembling slightly. “It’s real. And I’m not going anywhere.”

She swallowed hard, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his sincerity. “I… I do feel it,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it scares me. You scare me.”

His expression softened, and he cupped her face in his hands. “Why?” he asked gently, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Tell me.”

Y/n took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “Because you’re you. You’re this amazing, successful, larger-than-life person. And I’m just… me. I don’t want to get hurt if this doesn’t work out.”

Lando’s eyes searched hers, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he sighed, resting his forehead against hers. “Y/n, you’re everything to me. Don’t you see that? It doesn’t matter who I am or what I do. When I’m with you, I’m just a guy who’s completely and utterly in love with this incredible woman.”

Her breath hitched at his confession, and she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You mean that?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Every single word,” he replied without hesitation. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

For the first time, she let herself truly believe him. Let herself trust him. Her hands moved to his shoulders, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed together. “I’m in love with you too,” she whispered, the words feeling like a release after holding them in for so long.

A wide grin spread across Lando’s face, and he kissed her deeply, pouring all of his emotions into it. When they finally broke apart, he chuckled softly. “Took you long enough,” he teased, his tone playful.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help laughing. “Shut up,” she said, smacking his shoulder lightly.

He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips to place a kiss on her knuckles. “Make me,” he challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Her cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze, a spark of mischief lighting up her eyes. Slowly, she shifted beneath him, her hands sliding down to his waist. She could feel the hardness pressing against his jeans, and it only fueled her courage. “Maybe I will,” she murmured, her voice sultry.

Lando’s breath caught as her fingers grazed the bulge in his pants. “Fuck, Y/n,” he groaned, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily.

She smirked, enjoying the effect she had on him. With deliberate slowness, she undid the button of his jeans, then the zipper, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his boxers. He hissed through his teeth, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as she slid her hand inside.

Her fingers wrapped around his length, and she savored the way he shuddered at her touch. “You’re so hard,” she whispered, stroking him slowly.

“Only for you,” he managed to choke out, his eyes blazing with need.

She pushed him off of her with a playful smirk, watching as he landed on the bed with a soft bounce. Sliding between his legs, she locked her gaze with his, the intensity in her eyes making his breath hitch. She smiled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of his cock before taking him into her mouth. Lando let out a strangled groan, his hand tangling in her hair as she began to move. Her tongue swirled around him, teasing and tasting, driving him wild.

“God, you’re perfect,” he panted, his hips bucking slightly. “So fucking perfect.”

Y/n moaned around him, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through his body. Her hands roamed over his thighs, her nails digging lightly into his skin. She could feel him twitch in her mouth, hear the way his breathing became ragged.

“Y/n…” he warned, his voice strained. “If you keep going like that, I’m not going to last.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “And what if I don’t want you to?” she asked, her tongue darting out to lick a stripe along his length.

Lando cursed under his breath, his grip tightening in her hair. “You’re killing me,” he groaned, but he didn’t stop her when she took him back into her mouth.

Her movements became more fervent, her lips sucking and her tongue caressing him in ways that left him utterly undone. He could feel the pressure building, his entire body tensing as he teetered on the edge.

“I’m close,” he gasped, trying to warn her again.

But Y/n didn’t stop. Instead, she looked up at him, her eyes filled with devotion, and in that moment, Lando felt his control shatter. With a guttural moan, he came, her name on his lips as she swallowed every drop.

When he finally regained some semblance of composure, he pulled her up to him, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. “You’re incredible,” he murmured against her mouth, his hands roaming over her body. Lando’s chest heaved as he pulled her up, his hands trembling against her skin. His voice was rough, still catching on the edges of desire. “I want to fuck you so bad, Y/n. But I need a minute to get hard again.”

Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile as she shifted her weight, her thighs pressing against his hips. She leaned down, her breath warm against his ear. “I can wait. It doesn’t matter how long—whether it’s seconds or minutes—as long as in the end, I get to feel you inside me.”

His eyes darkened, a low groan escaping his throat as her words sent a fresh wave of heat through him. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer.

She laughed softly, the sound vibrating against his chest. “Good. Then we’ll go out together.” Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, her touch feather-light but electric. “Take your time, Lando. I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhaled sharply, his body already responding to her nearness, her words, her touch. “Fuck, Y/n,” he whispered, his voice thick with need. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Her gaze locked with his, unwavering, filled with a quiet intensity that made his heart pound. “Show me,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his. “When you’re ready, show me exactly what I do to you.”

Lando’s hands tightened on her waist, his breathing uneven as he felt himself hardening beneath her. “I won’t make you wait long,” he promised, his voice rough with urgency. “Not when all I want is to be inside you.”

She smiled, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed herself against him. “Then take me, Lando. When you’re ready, take me and don’t hold back.”

[psychoticfemmm]

Bathroom Banter

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: While waiting for JJ to get done showering you make yourself comfortable in the bathroom.

The faint sound of running water echoed through the small bathroom, accompanied by the occasional off-key hum of JJ Maybank belting out some old country tune. You leaned against the bathroom sink, tapping your nails against the side of your smoothie cup. Ten minutes had passed, then fifteen, and now it was creeping into twenty, and JJ still wasn’t done.

You sighed dramatically before making the executive decision to enter the bathroom. The Pogues had crashed at John B’s for the weekend, and with six of you sharing one bathroom, time was precious.

“I’m coming in, JJ,” you called through the door, smoothie in hand.

“Go for it,” his muffled voice replied casually.

You opened the door and found the bathroom hazy with steam, the glass shower door fogged up. JJ was somewhere behind it, the outline of his form visible. Without hesitation, you plopped down on the closed toilet lid, phone in one hand and smoothie in the other.

A laugh came from behind the glass. “What the hell are you doing?” JJ asked, his voice amused but not surprised.

“Waiting for you. You’ve been in here forever,” you replied nonchalantly, scrolling through your phone. “Thought I might as well get comfy. And hydrated.” You took a sip of your smoothie.

JJ chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “This is normal to you? Just camping out while I’m showering?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” you quipped. “Besides, I needed an audience for my smoothie.” You waved the cup in the air even though he couldn’t see it.

“Okay, smoothie critic,” he teased. “What flavor is it?”

“Pineapple and mango with a hint of coconut,” you said proudly.

“That’s a lot of tropical going on. Let me try it,” he said.

“You’re literally in the shower.”

“So? Hand it over,” JJ insisted, sliding open the shower door just enough to stick his hand out. His wet arm dripped water onto the tile.

“You’re so dramatic,” you muttered, standing up and placing the smoothie into his hand. “Don’t you dare get soap in it!”

JJ took a sip, smacked his lips together like a wine connoisseur, and hummed. “Not bad, but it’s missing something.”

“Yeah? What?”

He grinned, sliding the door open wider so you could see his wet hair plastered to his head and the mischievous glint in his eye. “Kiss.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned forward anyway, brushing your lips against his in a quick, sweet kiss. His hand came up to cup your cheek, and you let the kiss linger for a moment before pulling back.

“There. Now it’s perfect,” you said with a smirk, grabbing your smoothie back.

“Careful, you’ll get hooked on me,” JJ joked, leaning back into the shower as he closed the door.

“More like hooked on smoothies,” you shot back, resuming your seat on the toilet and your scrolling.

The banter didn’t end there. JJ spent the next few minutes dramatically describing his plans to open a smoothie shop, insisting that he’d name a drink after you. “Something fiery and unpredictable,” he said.

“I’m flattered, really,” you replied dryly, stifling a laugh.

When JJ finally finished his shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and struck a mock heroic pose in front of you. “Your savior has arrived,” he declared.

“Finally,” you said, standing up and tossing your empty smoothie cup at him. “I hope you didn’t use all the hot water.”

As you both left the bathroom, the rest of the Pogues were lounging in the living room. John B raised an eyebrow. “What took you so long in there?”

“She was supervising me,” JJ answered with a grin, ruffling his damp hair.

“Supervising or flirting?” Kie teased, smirking knowingly.

“Both,” you shot back, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Classic,” Pope muttered, shaking his head as JJ threw an arm around your shoulder.

“Come on, I’ll make us another smoothie,” JJ said, leading you toward the kitchen.

As the others laughed and teased behind you, JJ leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Next time, bring snacks to our bathroom hangouts. I’m thinking chips.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. Life with JJ Maybank was never boring.

₊⋆·˚🪷.‧₊˚ 🦢༉‧₊˚.

Sorry Ive been MIA ive been going through a lot ill try to be more active, hope you liked the story⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

[buttercandy16]

Mistress

PAIRING(s): Vampire!Agatha Harkness x Maid!Reader

SUMMARY: Your mistress becomes obsessed with you, leading to a dark, twisted relationship where love, power, and obsession collide.

WARNING(s): Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive, Blood, and SMUT.

A/N: Been a while since I've written some smut. Enjoy!

The halls of the Harkness estate were vast and cold, like a labyrinth of secrets etched into its ancient stone walls. Candlelight flickered across shadowy corridors as you carried a silver tray of wine toward the parlor, your heels clicking softly against the marble floors. You tried to focus on balancing the tray, but you couldn't ignore the eerie stillness of the estate or the way the other servants whispered nervously about their mistress.

Agatha Harkness.

Even among her wealthy contemporaries, her name was uttered with equal parts reverence and dread. She was a woman of unparalleled elegance and power, known for her biting wit and an aura of danger that clung to her like a second skin. Rumors swirled about her cruelty, her temper, and her insatiable appetites—not just for luxury but for something darker.

You’d taken the job as her maid out of desperation, knowing little of her reputation. Now, after only a few weeks, you wondered if the warnings had been an understatement.

And yet, you found yourself drawn to her in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

The moment you entered the parlor, you felt her eyes on you.

Agatha lounged in a grand velvet armchair, her long fingers elegantly wrapped around the stem of a wine glass. Her gaze slid over you like a caress, sharp and assessing, making your skin prickle under the weight of her attention.

“Finally,” she purred, her voice smooth as silk. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost.”

“My apologies, mistress,” you said quickly, setting the tray down on the table before her.

“Hmm.” She didn’t look away, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

“Yes, mistress,” you said, fighting to keep your hands steady under her piercing stare.

She stood slowly, her towering frame somehow both graceful and intimidating as she circled you. The scent of her perfume—a dark, heady mix of amber and spice—wrapped around you, making it hard to think clearly.

“I noticed you the moment you arrived,” she murmured, her voice dangerously low. “There’s something… unique about you. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.”

Her fingers brushed your shoulder lightly as she moved behind you, and your breath caught.

“Tell me,” she said, her breath warm against your ear, “do you enjoy working for me?”

The air felt heavy, and the words got caught in your throat. “Y-yes, mistress,” you managed, though your pulse quickened for reasons you couldn’t fully name.

Her low chuckle sent a shiver down your spine. “Good. I have high expectations, and I’d hate to be disappointed.”

Over the following days, her interest in you only grew more intense.

She began finding reasons to summon you alone—fetching her wine, helping her dress, accompanying her on her nightly walks through the moonlit gardens. Always, she kept close, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of you.

At first, you thought it was simply her eccentric nature, but soon it became clear there was more to her obsession.

“I can hear your heart racing,” she said one evening as you stood in her chambers, tidying the delicate lace cuffs of one of her gowns. Her tone was amused, but her eyes burned with something primal.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you replied, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

“Oh, but I think you do,” she said, taking your wrist in her hand. Her grip was gentle but unyielding as she pulled you closer. “You’re quite… intoxicating.”

One night, you found yourself summoned to her private chambers. The room was dimly lit, the scent of wax and roses thick in the air. She stood by the fireplace, her long dark gown catching the light like a pool of ink.

“Come here,” she said, her voice low and commanding.

You hesitated but obeyed, stepping closer until you were standing just inches from her.

Her hand reached out, her fingers trailing over your cheek. “You’re shaking,” she whispered. “Are you afraid of me?”

“N-no, mistress,” you lied, your voice barely audible.

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You should be.”

Before you could respond, her grip tightened on your arm, and she pulled you against her. Her other hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze. Her eyes glowed faintly in the firelight, hungry and unrelenting.

“You don’t understand yet, do you?” she murmured, her voice dripping with dark amusement. “The hold you have over me. Your scent, your warmth, the taste of your fear…”

Her lips brushed against your neck, soft and deliberate, and your breath hitched. You wanted to pull away, but her presence was overwhelming, suffocating, and somehow… thrilling.

“I could devour you,” she whispered, her voice tinged with both lust and menace. “Body and soul. And I don’t know if I could stop myself.”

You felt her teeth graze your skin, a soft scrape that sent electricity coursing through you. But instead of biting, she pulled back, her expression carefully controlled.

“Not yet,” she said, more to herself than to you. “Not yet.”

Her fingers lingered on your wrist as she let you go, her touch burning long after she released you.

“Leave me,” she said abruptly, turning away.

You didn’t wait for her to change her mind.

The next day, she was colder, more distant, as though trying to suppress whatever had taken hold of her. But the heat in her gaze never dimmed when she looked at you, and you knew the storm wasn’t over—it was only just beginning.

Every interaction with her left you more confused, more tangled in her web of obsession. The line between fear and something far more dangerous blurred, and you found yourself standing at the edge of a precipice, unsure whether to flee or to fall.

And as her lips curled into a knowing smirk, you realized that decision might not be yours to make.

The air in the Harkness estate grew heavier each day, as though the house itself was responding to the tension between you and its mistress. Agatha’s presence loomed everywhere—her perfume lingering in the hallways, her voice echoing in the back of your mind, her piercing eyes locked on you at every stolen glance.

You told yourself it was just her nature, an eccentricity fueled by wealth and boredom. Yet deep down, you knew it was more. Agatha wasn’t merely interested; she was consumed. And despite the gnawing fear in your chest, part of you couldn’t help but lean into it, daring the flame to burn brighter.

One evening, you were summoned to her private chambers yet again. The summons itself wasn’t unusual by now, but the tone of her note was: “Tonight, you’re mine.”

You smoothed your trembling hands down the front of your uniform as you knocked on the grand wooden door. Her voice drifted through, low and sensual.

“Come in.”

Pushing the door open, you stepped inside, only to be greeted by a sight that made your breath hitch.

Agatha stood in front of a gilded mirror, her silhouette framed by the glow of the roaring fireplace. She was in a deep plum silk robe, tied loosely at her waist. The fabric clung to her curves, revealing far more than it hid. Her hair tumbled down in dark waves, and her gaze met yours through the reflection.

“You kept me waiting,” she said, her tone soft but full of unspoken weight.

“My apologies, Mistress Harkness,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Agatha,” she corrected, turning to face you fully. “When we’re alone, you’ll call me Agatha.”

Her smile was slow and predatory as she crossed the room, her bare feet silent on the thick rug. She stopped just in front of you, her presence commanding every ounce of your attention.

“You’ve been working so hard lately,” she said, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face. “Have the other servants been treating you well?”

“Yes,” you replied, though the closeness of her fingers to your skin made the word come out shakier than intended.

“And yet,” she continued, tilting her head, “I can see the exhaustion in your eyes. Do they know how much you give?” Her fingers lingered on your cheek, her touch as delicate as a whisper.

“I—”

“Shh,” she interrupted, pressing a single finger to your lips. “No need to speak. You’ve already given me enough with just your presence.”

The air between you crackled with an intensity that was impossible to ignore. Her eyes roamed over you, her gaze so unashamed and hungry that you felt exposed even in your modest uniform.

“Have you thought about me?” she asked, her voice a low, dangerous hum.

Your throat tightened. “I… I don’t know what you mean.”

Her smile deepened, a sly curve of her lips that seemed to peel away every pretense. “Don’t lie to me. I see it every time your hands tremble when I’m near. The way you avoid my gaze, yet I catch you staring when you think I’m not looking.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, your heart thundering in your chest. “Mistress, I—”

“Agatha,” she corrected again, more firmly this time. Her voice softened as she leaned closer, the scent of her perfume intoxicating. “Do you feel it too? This… pull between us? Don’t deny it.”

Her hand trailed down your arm, her fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your wrist. The touch was light, yet it left a trail of fire in its wake.

You stepped back instinctively, trying to create distance, but she followed. Her movements were slow and deliberate, like a predator savoring its prey.

“You’re nervous,” she said, her voice almost teasing. “Good. I like the way your pulse quickens when I’m near. Like it’s calling to me.”

Her fingers brushed the delicate skin of your neck, lingering for a moment as her gaze followed the motion.

“Do you know how hard it’s been to restrain myself?” she whispered, her voice dripping with hunger. “You’ve awakened something in me—something dark, something primal. I can hardly stand it when you’re near.”

Her lips ghosted over your ear, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “Every time I see you, every time I smell you, I wonder… how would you taste?”

Your knees threatened to buckle beneath you, but her hand moved to your waist, steadying you. It wasn’t just her words—it was her voice, her touch, her presence. It was overwhelming.

“You should go,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Her laughter was soft and rich, like the purr of a satisfied predator. “Go? You’re the one in my chambers, darling.”

Agatha’s other hand slid around your back, pulling you impossibly close. The silk of her robe brushed against you, her warmth seeping into your skin.

“Tell me to stop,” she said, her lips hovering dangerously close to yours. “One word, and I’ll let you walk out of here. But if you stay… you’ll belong to me.”

Your breath caught as her fingers tilted your chin upward, her dark eyes blazing with intent. It felt like the world had stopped, like the only thing that mattered was her—her lips, her touch, her dominance.

This was no longer just your job, your duty. This was something much deeper, darker, and inescapable. And as her lips brushed against yours, soft and commanding all at once, you knew there was no going back.

The kiss started soft—tentative even—but there was no denying the fire that ignited the moment her lips claimed yours. Agatha wasn’t the kind of woman to ask twice, and now, her dominance poured over you like molten honey. Her hand tangled in your hair, holding you in place as her lips parted yours, the taste of her intoxicating.

“Do you feel it now?” she murmured against your lips, her voice like a low growl. “How you’ve bewitched me?”

Your body trembled under her touch, your breath hitching as her sharp nails dragged lightly down the curve of your neck. The trail they left tingled, a shiver that rippled through you like electricity. She stepped back, just slightly, her hungry eyes roaming over you as though she was calculating her next move.

Then her expression shifted—intense and dark, her pupils dilating as she fixated on your neck.

Before you could speak, she moved, gripping your waist and pressing you against the cold stone wall of her chambers. Her lips brushed your collarbone, soft and deliberate, as she inhaled deeply.

“Your scent…” Her voice broke, heavy with need. “It’s… maddening.”

Her mouth trailed along the line of your throat, kisses becoming hungrier, rougher. Then you felt it—the sharp press of her teeth.

"Agatha—" you gasped, half-panicked and half-lost in the thrill coursing through you.

“Shh,” she cooed, pinning your wrists above your head with surprising strength. “You’ve already given me your lips… your trust… What’s one more thing?”

Her teeth broke the delicate skin of your neck with a swift bite, pain mingling with the heat of her lips. Your cry was stifled as she pressed her mouth fully against you, drinking deeply. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt—the sharp sting giving way to a strange, dangerous pleasure as her body molded against yours.

The world blurred at the edges, your heart hammering as she drank, the wet, visceral sound filling the chamber. Your pulse slowed, your knees weak, but Agatha didn’t falter. When she finally pulled back, her lips and chin were smeared with your blood, crimson standing out stark against her pale skin.

“Look at you,” she whispered, her voice husky, her eyes glowing faintly with an otherworldly hunger. “So fragile, so perfect. Do you understand now what you do to me?”

Her hands slipped to your waist, her grip firm yet somehow tender, steadying you as you sagged against her. “You taste like heaven,” she murmured, licking the remnants of your blood from her lips as though savoring a fine wine.

“You—” You tried to speak, but the words didn’t come, your breath hitching as her thumb traced over the fresh wound on your neck.

“Shh, don’t speak,” she said, her voice softening, almost tender now. “You’ve given me so much already. Let me take care of you, darling.”

She lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the massive bed draped in deep violet and gold linens. You felt the world sway as she set you down, her robe falling open just enough to reveal the smooth curve of her shoulder. Her predatory grin had returned, but now it was laced with something gentler—a strange, possessive affection that made your stomach twist.

“I told you, didn’t I?” she murmured, brushing your hair away from your face. “You belong to me now. Completely.”

She leaned over you, her bloodstained lips brushing yours in a kiss that was gentler this time. It was possessive yet worshipful, as though she was memorizing every inch of you.

The blood loss left you lightheaded, the line between fear and desire blurring until it vanished entirely. Agatha’s hands roamed over your body with reverence, her touch burning like fire.

“Such strength,” she purred, her lips hovering over yours. “Yet so vulnerable.”

She pressed another kiss to your neck, careful to avoid the wound this time. Her tongue flicked over the edges of the bite, soothing the sting, even as her hands trailed down your sides, setting every nerve ablaze.

The fire in the hearth crackled, casting flickering shadows across the room as Agatha’s lips left your neck, her tongue lapping at the wound she’d made. Her hands were everywhere—tracing your collarbone, gripping your hips, sliding up your thighs with a possessiveness that left you breathless. She pulled back slightly, her eyes dark and glinting with something primal, something that made your stomach twist in a way that was equal parts fear and desire.

“You’re trembling,” she murmured, her voice low and rough, like the growl of a predator savoring its prey. “Do you want me to stop?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your body was betraying you, your pulse racing as her fingers slipped under the hem of your uniform, brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Her touch was electric, sending shivers up your spine, and you bit your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape.

“No?” she teased, her lips curling into a wicked smile. “Good. Because I don’t think I could stop even if you begged me to.”

Her hands moved with purpose, yanking the fabric of your uniform up and over your head in one swift motion. The cool air hit your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of her gaze as she took you in—every curve, every inch of exposed flesh. Her eyes burned with hunger, and you felt utterly exposed, utterly at her mercy.

“Beautiful,” she whispered, her voice dripping with reverence. “Every part of you.”

Her hands were on you again, rough and demanding, as she pushed you back onto the bed. The satin sheets were cool against your back, but her body was a furnace as she climbed over you, her robe falling open to reveal the smooth, pale skin beneath. Her breasts brushed against yours, and you gasped at the contact, your nipples hardening instantly under her touch.

“You’re mine,” she growled, her lips trailing down your neck, your collarbone, your chest. “Every inch of you belongs to me.”

Her mouth closed over your nipple, her tongue flicking against the sensitive bud, and you arched into her, a moan escaping your lips before you could stop it. She chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin, and her teeth grazed you lightly, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through your body.

“That’s it,” she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. “Let me hear you.”

Her hand slid down your stomach, her fingers dipping between your thighs, and you gasped as she found your wetness. She groaned, low and guttural, as she felt how ready you were for her.

“So eager,” she purred, her fingers teasing your entrance. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

You couldn’t answer, couldn’t think, as her fingers pushed inside you, curling just right to hit that spot that made your vision blur. She moved with a practiced precision, her thumb circling your clit as her fingers worked you, and you writhed beneath her, your hands gripping the sheets for dear life.

“Look at you,” she said, her voice dripping with dark amusement. “So desperate for me. So perfect.”

Her pace quickened, her fingers thrusting deeper, harder, and you felt the coil in your stomach tighten, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “Come for me, darling. Let me feel you fall apart.”

As the firelight flickered in the darkened chamber, her mouth found yours again, her kiss consuming you entirely. She poured everything into it—her obsession, her hunger, and her unspoken claim over you.

When you woke, you were wrapped in satin sheets the color of freshly spilled wine. The dull ache in your neck reminded you that last night hadn’t been a fever dream. You touched the spot cautiously, your fingers finding tender flesh but no wound. Agatha had tended to it somehow; you could still feel the faint sting of her tongue against your skin.

As you turned, you realized you weren’t alone. Agatha sat on the edge of the bed, her robe draped loosely over her, revealing more than it hid. She held a glass of dark red wine in one hand, her other hand lazily tracing patterns on your thigh.

“You’re awake,” she said without looking at you. Her voice was calm, almost casual, but there was a sharp edge to it—possessive, in control.

You tried to sit up, but the room spun, and Agatha’s hand was on your shoulder in an instant, pressing you gently back down.

“Easy, darling,” she murmured, her fingers cool against your flushed skin. “You’ve given me so much already. You need to recover.”

Her words were kind, but her tone betrayed her satisfaction—like a predator who’d gorged herself on her prey and was now savoring the aftermath.

“Why?” you managed to whisper, your voice hoarse.

Agatha smiled, setting her glass aside. She leaned down until her face was inches from yours, her dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that stole your breath.

“Because I couldn’t resist,” she said simply. “You’re… exquisite. Every look, every breath, every drop of blood.” She cupped your face in her hand, her thumb grazing your cheekbone. “You have no idea the effect you’ve had on me.”

You flinched as her lips brushed over your forehead, but you didn’t pull away. There was a strange tenderness to her touch that made it impossible to move, even as your heart thundered in your chest.

“I should have left you alone,” she murmured, almost to herself. “But I’m not that strong. Not when it comes to you.”

The days that followed blurred together.

Agatha no longer kept her distance. She was everywhere—in the gardens during your morning chores, in the kitchen as you prepared meals, in your dreams every time you closed your eyes.

And always, her hands were on you—brushing against your arm as she passed, grazing your neck when she adjusted your collar, lingering on your waist as though she couldn’t stand to let you go.

“I’ve been patient,” she said one evening, pinning you against the cool stone of the hallway. Her voice was low, dangerous. “Do you think I’m a patient woman, darling?”

You shook your head, your words stolen by the heat of her body pressing into yours.

“No,” she said, her lips curling into a wicked smile. “I’m not.”

Her hand slid up your thigh, her touch searing through the thin fabric of your uniform. “Do you understand what you’ve done to me? How you’ve consumed my thoughts, my dreams, my every waking moment?”

Her mouth found yours before you could reply, the kiss rough and commanding. You couldn’t think—only feel. The way her hands gripped your hips, the way her teeth scraped your bottom lip, the way her breath mingled with yours as though she intended to drown you in her need.

The next morning, you woke again in her bed. She was watching you, propped up on one elbow, her fingers idly playing with your hair.

“Good morning,” she purred, her voice soft and lazy, though her eyes held that same dangerous glint.

“Why… why me?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Her smile widened, and she leaned down until her lips hovered just above yours.

“Because you’re mine,” she whispered, as though it was the simplest thing in the world.

Her teeth grazed your ear, and you shivered. “And I don’t share.”

The days turned to weeks, and the line between fear and desire blurred beyond recognition. You found yourself waiting for her touch, aching for her attention, even as a small part of you screamed to run.

But there was no escaping her.

Agatha Harkness had claimed you in every way that mattered—body, blood, and soul.

And as her lips trailed down your neck, her sharp nails leaving burning paths along your skin, you knew you didn’t want her to let you go.

Because no one could consume you like she did.

No one could burn you so beautifully.

You belonged to her, entirely and inescapably.

And somehow, you didn’t care.

_-_-_

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[blue-lights-to-dreams]

Golden Light // H.S.

synopsis: you go on a blind date with Harry at your best friend's insistence and enjoy it much more than you expected.

wc: 3.9k

a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this! i haven't written fic in a hot minute, so let me know what you think! this will likely have a part 2 where the exciting stuff happens, but writing even this much took me forever so i wanted to share before the Christmas mentions became irrelevant, lol!

The streets of New York City are beautiful this time of year. Christmas lights twinkle in nearly every retail storefront, some even including a dusting of ripped-up cotton balls and other snow-like materials. Just ignore the grey sludge coating the streets.

You were never one for holiday cheer, and today was no exception. Despite thinking the same of every single day, you’ve had what you would consider the longest day of your life. Your first meeting ran late by just a few minutes, but even this was enough to push your calendar so far off that you needed to reschedule your final call with the client you’d been waiting almost a month to meet with.

There was nothing more in this world you wanted to do than curl up in bed with a bottle of wine and a silk eye mask. But, here you were, trudging down the streets of New York City in your slightly uncomfortable heels, trying to dodge puddles, slush, and other mysterious substances on the sidewalk, on your way to a blind date. Emma had set you up with a friend of her boyfriend’s, and she’d made you promise you’d give him a chance.

Your last relationship had ended with a bang after you went to his apartment to surprise him after getting out of work early one afternoon, only to find him in bed with a blonde girl you never did learn the name of. 

You could easily find a man to wake up to the next morning, but after years of running your own business, it wasn’t as simple as walking into a bar to meet Mr. Right. You’d dated enough men with little ambition; you needed someone who had drive– had success.

All you knew about your date for the night was his name was Harry, he was a record executive, and, according to Emma, he was hot.

The pit in your stomach only grew as you approached Bella Napoli. It didn’t help you’d spent the last six blocks trying to lift your dress and nearly-floor-length coat high enough to keep it out of the puddles.

The little blue location dot on your maps app glided closer to the restaurant with each step you took, nearly there - mist ghosted over your nose with each exhale, doing nothing to keep it warm in the frigid weather of the city, and you couldn’t wait to get inside.

Finally, you spotted the marquee sign affixed to the small brick building half a block up, signaling the end of your journey. The glass-front double doors opened easily under your hasty pull, eager to feel the heat of the brick building’s furnace.

“Good evening, ma���am,” the hostess greeted from behind her podium. She appeared to be in her early twenties, with long blonde hair and prominent cheekbones.

“Good evening, I have a reservation under (Y/L/N),” you brushed stray snowflakes off of your wool coat. Emma had ensured she would let Harry know the reservation would be under your name, and you hoped she hadn’t forgotten.

“Ah, yes, table for two? Right this way.” The young woman stepped from behind the podium and began heading toward the main dining area. You followed her as she snaked around the tables full of affluently dressed couples and businessmen in suits, reaching a small archway leading into a more dimly-lit section of the restaurant. 

She led you to a booth in the corner with velvet seats and matching curtains, held open by small hooks on either side - out of sight from most of the other patrons in the section, who didn’t seem to be paying any mind to you anyway. A small candle sat between two menus, adjacent to a traditional silverware layout and an empty highball glass on either side of the booth.

You slid onto the bench facing the room’s entrance as the hostess filled each glass with ice water. She nodded as you thanked her and informed her a man by the name of Harry should be arriving soon to join you. Just in case Emma had forgotten.

The menu was short but obviously well-curated. The wine list was almost twice the length of the food menu - just how you liked it. You skimmed the offerings, deciding on a merlot of the second-highest price point. Your anxiety still made itself known in the way your stomach was twisting. You checked the time. It was 5:58 pm - still two minutes early. You hoped the wine would drown the butterflies (or maybe moths) in your stomach.

Your eyes returned to the restaurant’s food offerings but were again drawn upwards as another person sauntered into the secluded section of the restaurant. His pale grey, half-unbuttoned silk shirt settled just under the gold cross necklace grazing the indent between his pecs. A blazer of a much darker grey draped his shoulders, matching the straight-legged trousers just long enough to only allow the front of his patent-leather black loafers to peek out from under them. 

The air suddenly felt heavy, like you couldn’t get a breath in. Who is the lucky lady he’s here with tonight? Your eyes darted around the section, trying to find his date, but coming up empty. 

Shit, is this Harry?

Your fears are confirmed as you realize the hostess had entered the room a bit ahead of him and was leading him to your booth. The poor girl looked entirely flustered.

“Here you are, sir. Your waitress will be over shortly to grab your drink orders,” she squeaked, turning on her heels and scurrying away as quickly as possible.

You smiled at him as you shuffled out of the booth and rose to your feet, trying to seem much more confident than you were. You reached about the height of his shoulder in your heels.

“You must be (Y/N),” he spoke with a slight smile, glancing at your attire before returning his eyes to meet yours.

“That would be me. And you must be Harry.” You smiled back at him, subconsciously smoothing out the part of the dress resting on your hips.

Harry took a step toward you with arms extended, pulling you into an easy hug, His arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders and yours around his waist. He smelled like an intoxicating mix of vanilla, patchouli, and musk. Expensive. Even just brushing your fingers across his suit jacket as he pulled away, the feel of the fibers suggested it had also not been cheap.

“You look stunning. I love the color of your dress,” he complimented, pulling back slightly with his hand hovering over your waist. “It looks great on you.”

“Thank you, it was actually a gift from my mother.” Compliment-taking was not your forte.

“Well, she has great taste. Shall we?” He motioned toward the set table, waiting for you to take your seat before sliding into the bench on the opposite side. “Have you been here before?”

“I haven’t, but I’ve heard great things. Have you?” His ring-clad fingers picked up the beverage menu in front of him as you spoke.

“I have, it’s one of my favorites.” That must have been why he suggested it.

“Is the Merlot any good? That’s what I was thinking of ordering, but I’m open to suggestions.” You played with the seam of your dress under the table absentmindedly.

“Now that, I haven’t had. I’m more of a white wine guy myself. I’m a fan of the Riesling.”

“Really? My first guess would have been whiskey, honestly.” There exists a pattern in these kinds of men - they always drank some very expensive whiskey they needed to tell you all about, as if it didn’t taste like smoke-flavored lighter fluid.

“I tend to prefer a sweeter taste,” his eyebrows twitched as he raised the glass of water to his lips. You nodded before the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, taking time to browse the food menu.

It wasn’t very extensive, with a few choices to pick from each protein category. You settled on a grilled chicken tagliatelle with a cream sauce, hoping it would pair well with the wine.

“Hi, my name is Danielle and I’ll be taking care of you this evening,” a voice burst your bubble of concentration, “have we decided on what we’d like to drink?”

You recited your wine order first, with Harry following shortly after. The waitress jotted down your selections in her notepad before exiting the room with a promise to be back to take your food orders shortly.

“So, Emma said you work in marketing?” he spoke slowly. His accent was thick, only further drawing you into the conversation.

“PR, actually,” you replied, “I have my own firm, with a few employees. I love it.”

“That’s amazing,” he sounded sincere. “How long have you been in PR?”

“Almost a decade, but I’ve had the firm for a little over 3 years. At first, it was just myself operating out of my apartment, but we’ve been able to build up some clientele and move to an actual office space. Emma said you work for Atlas Sound, right?” you shifted the conversation away from yourself, curious about what exactly came with being a record executive.

“That’s right. I’m mostly in charge of production but I help out with some of the publishing aspects as well.”

“Ah, so no talent scouting? I was hoping this could be my big break…” you mused, narrowing your eyes at him. Harry chuckled, flashing the smile you’d found yourself dead set on seeing more of. 

“No, no, unfortunately, that’s not me, but I may know some people who could help. Let me guess, rap?”

You almost choked on the water you’d just taken a sip of, but managed to swallow it before the laugh burst from your throat. It caught you off guard - Harry honestly didn’t look like he would even know what rap is. A silly notion, given his career, but true anyway.

“You have a beautiful laugh,” Harry stated sincerely, and your heart just about stopped. 

Before you got the chance to respond, a full wine glass was placed in front of each of you. You hadn’t even noticed the waitress had come back. “Here are those drinks. Did we decide on what we’d like to eat? I can make some suggestions if you’re not sure what to get…”

It appeared as if she’d forgotten you were even in the room with the way she was staring directly at Harry. You couldn’t blame the girl - you’d been staring too - but she could definitely tell the two of you were on a date, so she could have at least been a little more subtle.

Harry smiled politely (and briefly) at her before turning his attention back to you to confirm you were ready to order. You both relayed your choices to the waitress, and you appreciated that Harry did not seem like he was interested in entertaining her advances.

“Anyways, where were we…” he smiled again, and your heart lurched.

Conversation flowed smoothly between the two of you, aided by the wine in your glasses. You found yourself getting less and less nervous about him not being the right fit, but more and more nervous you were somehow making a fool of yourself. 

The story of how one of your interns accidentally jammed the copier so badly you had to buy a completely new unit made Harry laugh loudly. It was one of many stories you had from your job that were definitely funnier in retrospect than they were as they happened. You were aware you’d talked a lot so far, but you couldn’t help it. The way Harry spoke was attractive, but the way he listened was even better. He seemed genuinely interested in the stories you told, maintaining eye contact, nodding in the right spots, and asking thoughtful follow-up questions. It had been a while since you’d had a date genuinely listen to you, and it was refreshing. 

He asked more about your job, and you found yourself telling him how as much as you like being “in charge” and able to have control over your firm, sometimes it was incredibly stressful, especially in emergencies. He could see the stress that followed you home every day seep back into your expression, despite you trying your best not to let it show.

His ring-clad hand slid across the table, fingers gently entwining with yours and giving them a quick squeeze.

“You know, I think you’re brave for taking that risk. You should be proud of what you’ve built.” The eye contact he made with you as he spoke was intense, with sincerity behind his words. His hand was warm, contrasting the cool feeling of the metal rings, and you subconsciously squeezed it back in an attempt to keep it where it was. Luckily, your hands stayed intertwined for another couple of minutes as you expressed your appreciation for his kindness and shifted the conversation back to his job until your food was in front of you.

The meals were delicious, just as Harry had promised. He’d ordered a mushroom risotto that looked delicious, and your pasta tasted perfect with the wine you’d chosen. Good job, self.

Soon, you found your plate nearly empty and your body warm from the alcohol. Your thoughts felt slightly fuzzy, and you caught yourself staring a little too long at the rings on Harry’s right hand, as well as the fingers adorning them. The muscles flexed as he moved his hands while speaking, and you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away. You knew how his hand felt in yours, but how would it feel touching your cheek, against your back, gripping your - 

“Did you save room for dessert? The tiramisu is incredible.” Harry’s voice broke your train of thought, and you quickly averted your eyes back to his. What seemed like a slight smirk played on his face, but you couldn’t tell if it was because he’d noticed the staring, or if the alcohol was just affecting him as well. You prayed for the latter.

“That sounds great, but I can probably only take a few bites. Would you want to share a piece?” you suggested, much too full for an entire dessert to yourself.

“I’d love to.” Harry absentmindedly tapped his fingers against the table in a rhythm you couldn’t place, not helping your attempts not to stare. “So, tell me more about that yoga class?”

The conversation flowed again, with Harry ordering dessert when the waitress stopped by. Of course, you were just as interested in his words as he was in yours, hanging on his every accented sentence. He was a captivating storyteller and his facial expressions were no different - you loved how his eyes lit up at the good parts and narrowed at the bad in the story. The slight scruff on his face complimented the way his mouth moved as it formed words, drawing you closer. How would they feel against your own lips, you wondered? 

You could hear the words he was saying, but you weren’t fully listening as he continued telling you about the time he got a little too drunk at a friend’s birthday party and ended up volunteering to give a speech he had in no way prepared for. It was a great story, very funny, but your mind was otherwise preoccupied. Wine always made you… flirty.

Soon, the tiramisu was in front of you. This, too, looked delicious - Harry was right again.

“Would you like the first bite?” He offered, picking up one of the small forks laid out on the plate and scooping a bite of the dessert onto it.

“Well, ladies first I suppose,” you joked. You parted your mouth slightly as you leaned forward, waiting for him to place the fork on your tongue. What you weren’t expecting was for his other hand to reach out and lightly grasp your jaw, thumb on your chin to hold your mouth farther open. A choked gasp escaped your lips at the same time the sweet cake hit your tongue, but you could barely taste it, too distracted by the skin contact. Again, his eyes didn’t leave yours as he allowed your mouth to close and pulled his hand away from your face.

“Well? How is it?” he asked, with a definite smirk this time. 

You tried to compose yourself before answering, swallowing the dessert and the lump that had formed in your throat. “It’s good… really good.” Your voice came out breathier than you intended, and you blinked heavily a couple of times, trying to kickstart the part of your brain that could think of anything except what you’d like to do with the gorgeous man sitting in front of you.

Harry took his own bite next, letting his eyes flutter shut as his mouth closed around the fork. His long eyelashes rested atop his strong cheekbones, the same ones you almost had to physically stop yourself from reaching over to brush your fingertips over. His lips were a stunning, dark shade of red, still slightly wet from the wine he’d been enjoying.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the bite, slightly brushing against the collar of his shirt. Seafoam green eyes made contact with yours as he opened them again, and a small smile graced his face as he realized you’d been watching him intently.

“You’re right, it is really good.” Your heart raced under the fervency of his gaze. He was staring into you like he wanted to read the thoughts echoing in your brain. “Would you like another bite?”

“Sure, but I can feed myself this one if you like,” you attempted to lighten the intense mood that had befallen your booth so you might actually be able to catch your breath,

“That won’t be necessary, I was quite enjoying myself,” Harry mused, refusing to break eye contact until you did. He scooped another bite onto the fork, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear before resuming his grip on your jaw and returning the fork to your lips. He felt your jaw flex as you chewed and swallowed the bite, but didn’t take his hand off of your face. Instead, he brought his thumb back to your lips and brushed below them gently, careful not to smudge your lipstick. 

He brought his thumb back to his mouth and slowly closed his lips around the pad of it, a half-smile tugging at his lips at your bewildered expression. “Sorry, you had a little something there. I figured I’d get it for you.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath instead of attempting to utter a response.

He took another bite himself before offering you another, which you obliged with little hesitation.

“You know, Harry, you need to be careful feeding me like this or I’ll get used to it.” Another feeble attempt to ease the tension and stop acting like a flustered teenager.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmured, voice sincere and slow, laced with something that sent a shiver down your spine, “if it means I keep getting to see your cheeks flush.”

He’d noticed how your body was responding to him, whether or not you tried to hide it. Your face burned again, sinking further into the booth behind you in slight embarrassment.

“Well, it doesn’t help that I’m on a date with an attractive man who’s feeding me tiramisu. I think that’s every woman’s dream.”

“So it’s working?” His face glowed in the candlelight, a smirk on his face but a subtle vulnerability behind his eyes.

You knew what he was implying, but wanted to regain some of the power you’d lost by being so flustered. “Maybe.”

“That’s not good enough for me. I need a yes.” He needed confirmation that you were on the same page.

“And what exactly am I saying yes to?” A sip of wine ran down your throat as you awaited his response.

“To letting me walk you home after this,” Harry stated bluntly, scanning your face for your reaction. You couldn’t help the way your face flushed, but you held your composure, leaning back casually against the booth behind you as you pretended to mull it over. You already knew what you wanted.

“Alright, Harry,” you smirked, bringing the wine glass to your lips once more, “let’s see where the night takes us.”

- - - - - - - - - - 

“God, it’s freezing out here,” you groaned, dodging patches of ice. You were nearly home, your apartment building visible up the street.

Harry had grabbed your hand under the guise of keeping it warm a few minutes ago, something you were grateful for now as you gripped it tightly, trying to navigate the snow-covered ground in heels with little traction. He’d offered to call an Uber, but you wanted some more time with him without a driver listening in on your conversation.

As you approached the building, your imagination ran with thoughts of getting him upstairs, into your apartment, into your living room… 

Before you could get too far, you were at the front door. Your free hand patted over the pockets of your jacket to ensure that you had your keys and found them in your left pocket.

“I had a great time with you tonight, Y/N,” Harry turned to face you, not letting go of your hand. “I’d love to do this again, sometime, if you’d be interested.”

A slight flush now graced his face, glancing at the ground as he awaited your response.

“I had a lovely time. I’d love to see you again,” you confirmed quickly, not letting him worry for too long.

He was beaming now, allowing you to admire his prominent dimples. Your heart skipped a beat and you couldn’t help but smile right back at the sight.

“There’s that beautiful smile again,” he quipped. His free hand reached for your jaw, cradling it again as you both continued to grin at each other for a few moments. A silence fell upon you again, and Harry’s eyes searched yours for a second before flickering to your lips, which had slowly returned to a resting state. As he moved his gaze back up, your eyes gleamed with the reflections of Christmas lights and were swimming with the need for more contact with him. He inhaled slowly, nervously, before exhaling sharply. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded quickly, gripping his collar to pull him closer before his mouth met yours. Electricity sparked between the two of you, his luscious lips colliding with yours over and over again, like he couldn’t get enough of you. The kiss started slow, but quickly became deeper, more desperate, as he gripped your waist tightly and pulled you close to him. Your hands searched for solace, moving from his collar to his cheeks before lightly running through the hair at the back of his neck.

He tore his lips away from yours but didn’t stray far, pressing his forehead against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. You could see both of your small pants in the air as they fogged due to the cold. A small smile played on each of your lips, and you just knew your lipstick was half-gone because you could definitely see some of it on Harry.

“You know,” you pulled away, straightening your stance confidently, “I have a bottle of wine upstairs if you’d like to help me drink it.”

Harry grinned. “I would love to.”

part 2!

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel teaches Marlene’s younger sister about how a man cums.]

Smut smut smut

“What did you mean by…you didn’t pull out? Last night after we-“

“Had sex” he cleared his throat.

“I wonder if he was always this grumpy”

You raised a brow to Ellie as Joel walked off to check the perimeter.

“My guess is yes” she shrugged.

Had you known who your older sister Marlene had sent you off with, you would’ve never agreed. Had it not been for Ellie, you definitely would’ve never gone along.

Your sister knew you developed a closeness with Ellie and asked you to go along with her and Joel to eventually meet at the destination. Never had you met him before but you definitely heard of him.

“You both will be fine with him, he knows what he’s doing” was all Marlene told you privately, yet you still felt some doubt. After all, she was the only one who had met him prior.

Without explaining much Joel led you to what seemed like some kind of a trap. Standing by a gate as it opened you looked ahead curiously.

“Where are we?” Ellie asked.

“A friend’s house” was all he responded with.

Silently following him to the door, you watched as he let himself in and followed.

“Don’t touch anything” he uttered low before he stopped in his tracks to find a letter on a table by the front door. Whatever the letter said, you could see the disappointment linger in him. He swallowed uncomfortably and silently tore the letter into pieces before walking away.

“So what are we doing?” Ellie asked eagerly following behind him.

“We stay here for the night, gather some supplies, fill up the tank and take the car-“

“You’re gonna take their car?” Your question making him turn to you.

“Mhm” he responded flatly and turned away.

He wasn’t one to explain much, you either went along with what he said or you didn’t.

Marlene warned you about this but assured you whatever it was would be for your best.

Once you learned the house was filled with food and water, you each excitedly took a turn taking a shower.

Well, you and Ellie seemed the most excited.

Looking around the house wearing a bath robe you found, you almost didn’t feel like any of this was real.

Grabbing a bottle of wine that was on the table you poured yourself a glass as Ellie watched.

“Might as well” You shrugged when she suddenly raised her brows looking behind you.

“Woah look at you!” You turned to find Joel freshly showered in a button flannel with his wet hair slick back. For just a second he seemed a bit bashful until he laid eyes on you and took a quick glance at what you were wearing and at the glass of wine in your hand.

“Don’t mind me” Ellie’s playful tone making you and Joel look at her as she grabbed the bottle of wine.

“Put it down” Joel ordered.

“Gosh ok, fun killer” she rolled her eyes with a chuckle as Joel stood awkwardly looking back at you before he walked into the living room.

For just a moment you found yourself overcome with a heat you had never really felt before.

An attraction you didn’t expect.

To say Joel looked insanely hot fresh out of a shower, was an understatement.

“Helloooo” Ellie’s voice distracted you from your thoughts.

How long had she been talking?

You looked over to see Joel enter a room and close the door behind him as you turned with Ellie and walked to the opposite side of the house.

“I’m getting tired” Ellie sighed on the couch.

“So go to sleep” you yourself yawned sitting opposite from her. She was quick to fall asleep as you found yourself struggling to find a comfortable position, you refused to sleep on a chair and went off to another bedroom.

It was another long lonely night for Joel, his cock pushing against the tough material of his jeans as he lay back in bed with his hands behind his head.

Thoughts of you crossing his mind.

He tried to fight those thoughts the best he could, but the frustration of not having had a woman in what felt like years was getting harder for him to ignore.

He wasn’t close to Marlene, frankly he didn’t give a shit about her but he made a promise to protect her younger sister, not fantasize about fucking her. His lust for you becoming harder to ignore he gave in and roughly unzhipped his pants far enough where his cock was completely out. Spitting on his hand he began to slowly tug at his cock, staring at the ceiling thinking about what your body must look like beneath that heavy bath robe you wore.

Closing his eyes he let his very vivid imagination take over him when suddenly the sound of the door opening made him jump.

You had walked in and froze at the sight before you.

“The hell you doin?!” He attempted to grab a sheet to cover himself but wrapped so tightly beneath the mattress he failed at pulling it out.

You could’ve sworn Joel went to the other room, did he not?

Obviously he didn’t.

Still, you stood in shock…amazed at the sight of a grown mans erect cock.

Of course, you had seen many in pictures, you weren’t a virgin but…you did only have sex once. It was months ago and for you it didn’t count, you couldn’t even tell when it ended, the man didn’t care to pleasure you nor show you anything. All you knew was that a man would thrust into a woman’s cunt until he came, whatever that meant..

Closing the door behind you not taking your eyes off of what was before you, you walked towards him.

“What are you doin’? Get out of here-“ he pushed himself half way up struggling to cover his erection with his hand.

You could feel the sensation of flutters between your thighs, your cunt pulsating to feel something.

To feel him.

He watched your hands take hold of your robe and he knew what you were about to do.

“No-“ he faintly shook his head looking directly at you as you let the bath robe fall to the ground.

“Jesus….honey, please...” he whispered focusing on every part of your body, better than what he could imagine

Looking down at him, it was as if he couldn’t move. He seemed in a trance focused on your plump breasts before you slowly pushed him completely back onto the bed. Pressing his lips together he breathed deeply watching as your fingers swirled downward around the buttons on his shirt before stopping at his erect cock. His eyes darting between you and his cock wondering what you would do until you took hold of his thick length in your hands.

“Honey-“ he panted just as you felt him place his hand on the back of your thigh. You knew what you wanted to do next and without saying a word you took him fully into your mouth. His body instantly tensing at the feel of your warm mouth, your head bobbing in a rhythm until you felt yourself about to gag.

All you could hear was noises coming from him that you couldn’t make out.

Isn’t this what your friend said men loved?

Pushing yourself to continue, you had no idea how focused he was watching you. His jaw tense as you felt his hand creep up your back until he stopped on the back of your neck.

He was hesitant to hold your mouth on him but you felt him slightly squeeze you, a part of him somehow still trying to resist something he knew he couldn’t. Coming up for air you gagged as he said something incoherently through heavy breaths. Your jaw slightly sore as you struggled to catch your breath.

His chest falling and rising deeply, he watched as you began to unbutton his shirt one by one. His cock jerking wanting to feel your lips once more, wanting to feel you. You had no idea just how weak your touch made him, how long he had yearned for the feel of a woman.

Never had you been on top during sex but you remember your friends talking about it and even sharing pictures they had found from magazines. You remembered one photo specifically, the way the woman straddled the man and something in you pushed you to try it. Joel had no idea how inexperienced you truly were as you climbed over him and balanced yourself guiding him to your entrance. He could feel the heat of your wet cunt hovering over him and as you lowered yourself you were met by the unexpected girth of his cock.

“I don’t know how long I can go baby”

He tried to warn you but you not knowing exactly what he meant and listening to your own urges simply nodded. His hands on your hips he helped guide you taking him completely in, your lips open in shock as you balanced yourself on his chest. You noticed his jaw tense, a crease between his brows deepening feeling how you tightly wrapped around him.

Without saying a word, you did just as the magazine showed and began to ride him slowly. His fingers imprinting into your skin as he looked down watched himself disappear in you. His cock glistening from your juices building up around him, Joel had completely lost himself in the pleasure.

Was this the way sex was suppose to feel like?

A moan that even surprised you left your lips much louder than you meant to making Joel quickly look up at you.

“Tell me how it feels” he demanded watching your expressions change with each stroke.

Yet you almost couldn’t speak.

“Tell me-“ he spoke through clenched teeth. He needed to hear it.

“You feel so..good” you panted.

“Oh baby” he squeezed your hips thrusting upward until he felt an intensity he hadn’t felt in forever taking over him.

“Fuck-“ his body tensed, he almost looked as if he was in pain.

“Joel?” You whispered confused.

“Get off-“ he barely could speak clearly.

“What?” You gasped as his grip on you tightened, he threw his neck back squeezing his eyes shut letting out the loudest deepest groan you’ve ever heard a man make. Lifting both your bodies off the bed Joel in that moment felt every inch of his body over come in ecstasy; as if the world had stopped around him.

“Fuck-“ he breathed his eyes still closed. Looking down at him cluelessly, your hands on his chest, you didn’t know what to say.

“Did I..did I hurt you?” You whispered.

His eyes slowing opening, still in daze, his lips parted attempting to speak but before he could a knock startled you both.

“Joel? Are you okay?”

It was Ellie, his moan waking her up out of her deep sleep of course.

“Yes!” He choked out.

“Bad dream!” Was all he could say.

“Oh uh, okay” Ellie walked off back to the couch and closed her eyes again.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Joel looked up at you a bit confused himself. Why on earth would you think you hurt him? Here you still sat on him, feeling him throb inside you.

“You mind, honey?” He asked making you jump.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry-“ you quickly got off him taking a few steps back.

Joel knew he fucked up, he knew he shouldn’t have fucked you, let alone cum in you.

But god dammit you felt so good.

“Are you okay?” You whispered.

With a frustrated glare at your question he pushed himself up. Not saying a word he cleaned himself off and buttoned his pants back up.

“Why do you keep askin’ me that?” He stood up buttoning his shirt.

“Because….it looked like I hurt you…you were in pain” Joel furrowed his brows puzzled with your words.

“Pain? I beg your pardon”

“So I didn’t hurt you?” Each time you spoke it only left Joel more confused. It was as if you knew nothing about sex and how it worked.

“If it wasn’t for the way you rode me, I would’ve thought you were a damn virgin with the way you’re talkin’” he noticed you stood silent and his expression changed.

“Shit…don’t tell me you’re a-“

“I’m not” you quickly intervened as you put on your robe.

“I mean…I only had sex once but-“

Joel took a deep breath brushing his hand over his lips. You really didn’t know what the fuck just happened.

“I don’t know…some things…” you spoke hesitantly. Joel looked down at you still out of breath, his hands on his hips not exactly sure how to go about this.

“What do you know?” You could hear the frustration in his voice.

“You’re mad-“

“I ain’t…mad” he noticed his tone and spoke calmer.

“Tell me, whaddyah know?”

“I mean, I know how sex works…I know um…-“

“How’d ya know how to get on top of me?”

He blurt out.

“Some friends I had, had shown me some magazines and-“

“Did you read what those magazines said?”

“Not really…” you whispered. Taking a deep breath he looked down realizing he somehow got stuck in explaining to you exactly what sex was, explaining to you what he had just done.

“Well…as for me being in pain-“ he cleared his throat awkwardly. Quite frankly you had taken him out of his misery.

“You just…you made me cum” you looked at him blankly still unsure what that meant.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes-no…yes” Joel himself looked flustered.

“So why did you look like I hurt you?”

“I just hadn’t felt that in a long time, it was…a lot”

“I felt you…you were throbbing when you-“

“Alright that’s enough” he turned away.

“Why are you acting like this is a bad thing?” You walked towards him as he stopped in his tracks.

“It shouldn’t have happened” he turned back to you rather serious.

“But it felt good… What’s the problem?” The more you spoke the more frustrated he became.

“What are you afraid of, my sister Marlene?-“

“I ain’t afraid of your sister” he cut you off coldly.

“So then-“

“God dammit, I came in you!” He yelled louder than he meant to as you looked up at him confused. Grabbing your arms as he looked back at the door making sure Ellie hadn’t heard, he pulled you close to him.

“I didn’t pull out” he spoke low.

“You could get pregnant-“

“Pregnant?” Joel had no idea how naive you were, the innocent fear in your eyes making him feel a wave of guilt.

“I-…I can’t get pregnant” you shook your head.

“That can’t happen, Joel. I…I can’t…my sister would kill me-“

“Your sister should’ve informed you better, didn’t you get schooled?”

“Marlene rather I had focused on training instead of school work. I mean, I knew…I knew sex could lead to pregnancy I just didn’t know how and-oh my god” he could see the panic in you rise.

“I should get out of here” you ran out the door before Joel could even stop you. Your mind running a mile a minute, everything made sense now. You heard about women around you speak about their menstrual cycle, some mentioning being late…

Women still did fall pregnant regardless of what was going on, you just didn’t think it would happen to you.

The next day you met Joel and Ellie in the living room gathering supplies. Joel took a double look at you as you entered the room, your presence easily distracting him.

“Morning” you whispered to both.

“What have you guys found?” You asked looking down at the table.

“Everything and more” Ellie grinned.

“He’s even letting me have my own gun”

You quickly looked at Joel who shook his head.

“Aw come on, could’ve pulled a prank on her with me” Joel remained serious, focused on all he was taking.

“I’m gonna go check out the car, see what stuff they have in the garage” Ellie walked off leaving you two alone for the first time since last night.

“You alright?” He asked without looking up.

“Mhm”

“Look, I’m sorry I freaked you out last night. It’s something you should’ve known, it ain’t your fault” his eyes eventually met yours making your heart skip a beat.

“I just want you to know that if…if that ends up happening…we’ll deal with it together…somehow. Alright?” You felt some kind of relief although you had no idea how any of it would even play out.

“Ok” you whispered.

“Can I ask you something?” You continued, Joel nodded.

“What did you mean by…you didn’t pull out? Last night after we-“

“Had sex” he cleared his throat.

Adjusting himself in his chair, his feet’s widely apart from each other he sighed.

“Um, usually…I mean-“ he raised his brows unsure of how to explain what you asked.

“Usually men wear a condom to prevent a pregnancy.”

“A condom?” You raised a brow.

“Mhm. Somethin’ a man puts on but I wasn’t wearing one and the next resort is to pull out before…before cummin’”

“Why didn’t you? Did you know you were gonna cum before you did?” Joel rubbed the back of his neck, droplets of sweats building up on his forehead.

“Uh…yes-“

“So why didn’t you pull out?” You whispered.

“I couldn’t.” He looked up at you biting his bottom lip.

“Why not?”

“Because I couldn’t god dammit, it felt too good and I couldn’t get you off in time and it’s my damn fault and I apologize, alright? Enough with the damn questions.” Joel left you speechless, what could you possibly say to that?

Joel went back to going through things he had found, he seemed to be in the middle of working on screwing something back on as you watched. Putting full force into twisting something he made a similar sound to the night before. A groan that caught your attention. He noticed with the corner of his eye the way you looked at him and instantly stopped what he was doing.

“What is it?”

“Uh…nothing”

Joel looked back down continuing what he was doing until he did it again. Instantly flooding your mind with thoughts from last night.

“Can you stop doing that?” Your sudden tone made him look up.

“Stop what?”

“That sound…that damn sound you make”

He furrowed his brows putting down what he had in his hand, his eyes still on you.

“I beg your pardon”

“It just….it sounds like when…”

“Like?”

“Like when…when you came” you blurt out.

Joel stood silent in that moment struggling to fight back thoughts he was having. Curiosity eating up at him as you stood innocently in front of him, he couldn’t help himself but wonder...

“A man ever make you cum?”

“What?” You responded almost embarrassed.

“Me?”

“Yes you”

You shook your head silently.

Joel looked over his shoulder making sure Ellie was no where near before he made his way to you. Cornering you against the wall you looked up at him confused.

“What are you doing?”

“You know, darlin’? You talk an awful lot sometimes” he pulled you by your belt unbuckling it.

“Joel-“ he unbuttoned your pants.

“Wait-“

“I thought you said we shouldn’t have done what we did last night” you whispered.

In his mind Joel was battling what was right, what was wrong…what he wanted and he couldn’t stop himself.

“I just think it’s fair I make you feel how you made me feel…at least once” his voice was tempting, his eyes making you melt. Slowly you nodded and allowed him to stick his hand in your pants. His foot making you part your legs, sliding one foot farther away from the other. Joel moved slowly, first allowing his fingers to feel you over the soft fabric of your underwear. Somehow just a simple touch sent shivers down your spine, his tongue sliding over his bottom lip as he felt your pussy lips agonist his fingers. He watched your eyes almost roll back, you felt yourself aroused by his touch. Slowly he pushed your underwear aside, letting his fingers pry apart your lips to instantly feel you were already wet.

“Oh honey..” he whispered as he pushed you against the wall with his body. You felt his finger begin to do something you’ve never felt, he began to move it in a circular motion right on your clit. Tingling sensations shooting up your abdomen, your breathing became harder to control. He watched as the pleasure built up inside you, your body sinking into his as you let out a soft whimper. Joel took your arm and placed it over his shoulder, allowing you to hold on to him as he moved his finger faster.

That’s when you noticed he was hard ready to burst out of his pants. Reaching to his crotch area he caught your arm before you could touch him.

“Mm mm, I’m workin’ on you right now, honey”

You could feel the pleasure begin to grow as if something would burst inside you. Your legs quivering you moaned as a pressure you had never felt increased.

“Oh my god” you dug your nails into the back of his neck making him move faster, his other arm holding you up around your waist as you struggled to stay balanced.

“Don’t fight it, baby, let it go” he demanded in a rough whisper. You couldn’t stop it if you tried, an overpowering rush of pleasure consumed you making you cry out like you never had. Joel’s eyes filled with instant fulfillment watching as the intensity took over you.

“Good girl” his hand caressed your neck, his forehead on yours, you panted as your pussy throbbed against his fingers. You couldn’t speak as he carried you onto a table against the wall.

He wasn’t done with you just yet.

He pulled your pants completely off and unzipped his as you still sat in a trance coming back from cloud nine. Placing himself between your legs, he watched your eyes widen as you slid himself in you. Holding your body up against him Joel fucked you as if he had something to make up for, as if you both were running out of time together. Grabbing onto him for dear life you moaned with each deep thrust, you never knew something could feel so good. His hands dug into your hair, pulling your neck back forcing you to look up at him. That’s when he kissed you, his tongue danced around yours as he moved his hips slowly. Muffling your moans he made sure every inch of him left you wanting more. Parting his lips from yours he didn’t take his eyes off you, his pace growing fast once more, your eyes rolling back.

“Oh god, it’s happening..again”

“Mhm” he thrusted harder, tugging at your hair with more force until he felt you tighten around him and your body jerked against his. Your moans making him reach his climax before he quickly pulled out and came on your thigh.

You panted looking down as he jerked himself off and watched his cum pour out of him. A deep breath of relief he closed his eyes before you heard the garage door close.

“Oh shit, she’s coming-“ you whispered as you both jumped to fix yourselves back to normal as fast as you could when she appeared at the door. Your back to Joel as you struggled to catch your breath, you pretended to be looking through a random book laying around as Joel continued packing.

“What’s wrong with you, Joel?” Ellie asked curiously noticing how out of breath he was.

“Huh? nothin’”

“Why are you so sweaty?”

“Cause I’m the only one putting every damn together, here-“ he threw her a small bag.

“Why don’t ya take that to the car, I’ll be right there” Ellie silently grabbed the bag, shrugged and walked out.

“Think she noticed?” Joel spoke looking over his shoulder before turning back to you realizing you didn’t respond, only to see you struggling to keep your balance by the wall.

“What’s wrong?” He quickly stood up walking towards you.

“I um-“ your voice trembled.

“My legs can’t stop shaking” you whispered. Joel couldn’t help but smirk.

“Are you gonna laugh at me? I can’t help it”

“ I ain’t laughing at cha”

“Sure seems like it”

“You have my word, I really ain’t. But now you know how you left me last night, guess we’re even.” Joel turned away with a chuckle as he grabbed another bag and walked to the car.

Tags:

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@ashleyfilm @justajoelsreader @ashleyfilm

[rachalixie]

can’t get you off my mind

all good love stories start with a drunk stranger, don’t they?

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fem!reader

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 4k

it starts at a bar. 

or really, it starts with a man at a bar. one that you’ve seen before in passing, a familiar face in a sea of more familiar faces. someone who you’ll later learn is one third of your best friend changbin’s production team, someone who you should have met years ago probably, someone who you would find is the perfect puzzle piece that fits into your jagged edges.

but right now, he is just a man at a bar with a beer in hand and a ridiculously dopey smile on his face. 

“marry me, please,” he says, absolutely serious but it’s a bit diluted from the way his words were slurred around the edges. “or i’ll have to kidnap you.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow at him, his image swimming a bit as you turn your head to fully take him in. you’re not drunk, but youre a couple glasses of wine deep and you’re not known for being fully articulate whilst sober anyways. 

“i swear i’m going to marry you,” he says, eyes wide as he looks at you. “you might be the most perfect person i’ve ever seen.”

you’re not overly fond of men you haven’t met hitting on you, but this one seems a bit harmless. if you ignored the part where he said he would kidnap you. at least he wasn’t grabbing onto you or trying to touch you - that would have sent your fist flying towards his face and probably a swift exit from the bar. it was a little weird that you didn’t find him weird, but in retrospect you must have known, even then. 

“okay, listen,” you put your hands on your hips, giving him an unimpressed look. “if you find me when you’re sober, ask me again and maybe i’ll reconsider.”

“okay,” he nods, hair moving along with his movement like a puppy’s ears. “i can do that. i’ll find you, i promise. i’m gonna marry you, did you know?”

“so i’ve heard,” you roll your eyes, already feeling a bit fond about him. you didn’t think you’d meet him again, but you were sure that you’d look at this night with a fond smile later. 

he sends you the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a person and scampers off, and you stand rooted to that one sticky spot in the bar for longer than you want to admit.

–

he’s in the back of your mind when you wake up the next morning, in a better mood than most - you never liked waking up early, it always took you a good hour and some coffee to be able to stand without grimacing. this morning though, you float around your apartment as you get dressed with a small smile on your face. 

a cute stranger who kept his boundaries and called you perfect? that wasn’t something that happened often, at least not to you. 

the floatiness followed you all the way through your morning routine until you found your feet stopping outside the coffee shop that you and changbin all but owned. you had no stock in it, but you’re sure that you supply them at least half of their revenue, you probably sit on their rickety chairs more often than your actual couch at home. this place has nursed you through every college class and job interview preparations and beyond, and if it ever closed you might lose time off of your life span. 

your movements from the door to the counter to your usual seat were robotic, muscle memory taking over while your head did somersaults through the clouds. it’s only when you take the first sip of coffee, the bitterness and heat hitting your tongue in a delightful dance, that you notice it. 

another man is sitting next to changbin. a man that looks awfully familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize why. it’s the man from the bar. 

“changbin?” you keep your eyes on the other man as you direct your question at changbin, trying hard to keep your face neutral. “explain?”

“i’m chan,” the man interjects before changbin can answer, reaching his hand across the table for you to shake. it’s warm, his grip somewhere perfectly in the middle of too hard and too soft, and he lets go after an appropriate amount of seconds. despite the neutral passivity of the gesture, you feel something ignite within you, and it threatens to sputter out when you catch no spark of recognition in his eyes. was he that drunk last night that he doesn’t remember you? do his sober eyes not find you as perfect?

“he crashed at my place last night,” changbin’s voice filters through your turmoil, and you finally break away from chan’s gaze to level him with a look. “and he needed coffee, so i brought him along. chan, this is y/n, my best friend.”

the conversation that followed flowed more freely than the coffee dripping from the machines behind the counter, and you almost hate how much you like it. chan is a little goofy, the man from the previous night shining through moments of seriousness and rapt attention. 

by the time you had to leave to go to work you felt like you knew him. you learned where he lived (close to you!), that he worked with changbin (he’s a producer!), and that he loved all animals but he adored dogs (he has one named berry!). just an hour of casual conversation had led to you needing more of him in every aspect of your life, but still in the back of your head lived the thought of him not remembering you from the night before.

changbin leaves first, citing some meeting he had to run to in the middle of a yawn, and when you were left with chan the embarrassment began to set in. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he blurts out, startling you so much you almost jump out of your seat. 

“what?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and disbelief combining into a confusing vortex within your head - was he going to go through this again? you didn’t know if your heart could take it. 

“i mean, i remember you,” he says before you could awkwardly excuse yourself and commit to getting to work early for the first time in a year just to escape being in a room alone with him for much longer. “i’m sorry, i was just embarrassed. i didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of changbin.”

“oh,” your breath leaves you all at once and you slump into your chair, understanding hitting you like a train. “that makes sense? i think?”

“i’m going to marry you,” he repeats, a mischievous glint in his eyes, the boy from last night shining through. “one day. i’m going to do it.”

“take me on a date first,” you tease back, a genuine smile stretching across your lips when he laughs, a full bodied thing that drew in eyes from the patrons across the room. for once, you didn’t seem to care that others’ eyes were on you. he made you feel comfortable. 

“what are you doing tomorrow?” his mouth turns upwards into a beautiful smile that you can’t help but return. 

“eager, are we?” you open your phone, sliding it across the table with the new contact page open on it. “i’m free.”

“you’re the most perfect person i’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, as serious and genuine as the way he had proposed to you last night as he taps his number into your phone. “sorry if i’m a bit desperate.”

“don’t apologize,” you take your phone back, making a mental note to text him later. “i like it, for some unearthly reason. you’re cute, chan.”

the sound of his delighted laugh follows your footsteps all the way to work. 

— 

he picks you up for your first date at noon, right on the dot. he wasn’t a minute late, a polite knock sounding through your apartment just as the hour turned, as if he had been waiting and watching the time outside the door. 

god, is everything about this man endearing? 

he’s wearing shorts and a light sweater, looking like something out of a posh magazine. his hair is curly and swept off his forehead and he’s wearing a smile with the most adorable dimples shining through. 

he leads you to his car and you have to hold back an impressed whistle. you knew changbin and his team did well for themselves, the name 3racha all over the credits of songs on the radio, but this car was nice. you were going to have a talk with changbin about why he still drove the same beat up sedan he’s had since college but that was a thought for later. right now all you wanted to think about was the man who held the door open for you to slide into the passenger seat and was now holding your hand over the middle console. 

“do i get to know where we’re going?” you ask, peering at the map open on his phone but it tells you nothing more than that your destination was 15 minutes away and that he had to make a right turn in one mile. 

“it’s a surprise,” he says, voice a little nervous but it was masked with excitement. wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be there if he was this happy the whole time. 

four songs on the radio later, one of which you teased him for when he revealed that he wrote it, he was pulling into a parking lot illuminated by flashing colorful lights. he had brought you to the fair. 

“i’ve never been to the fair!” you bounced a little in your seat, wriggling in excitement. “i’ve always wanted to go, how did you know?”

“lucky guess?” he shrugs, avoiding your gaze as he cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“changbin told you, didn’t he,” you smile at the thought of chan asking his friend about what you’d like. it was cute, a word that you were probably exhausting when thinking about him even after a day of knowing him. 

“yes, but,” he flushes, the tips of his ears burning red. “i asked him after i had decided to come here, just to make sure it was a good idea. i didn’t steal it from him.”

“hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours that he had yet to let go of in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. you didn’t know what brought him calmness yet, but you wanted to learn. you wanted to learn everything about him. “now, take me to the fair, bang chan. i was promised a date.”

he finally meets your eyes again and he’s grinning so happily that you feel like you had just won a prize. who needed a fair when you had your very own carnival game right here? 

it turns out, you did. by the time the sun was beginning to set, your arms were full of various plushies that chan had won for you, each one earning him a hug and a kiss to his cheek. you treasured every single one, the fluttering in your chest when he stepped up to the booths to throw and shoot various things never ceasing. 

“let’s go to the ferris wheel,” you tug at him with your free hand, thanking the skies when you see no queue there. “i bet the sunset looks beautiful from the top.”

he’s quiet when he follows you there and into the carriage, his thigh pressing against yours as he slides in next to you, but you don’t notice in your excitement. it isn’t until the wheel ticks to the top and stops that he grabs your hand again, trembling a little. 

“chan? are you okay?” you ask, concern warping your voice as you turn towards him. your movement rocks the carriage a bit and he turns pale, ducking his head into your neck to hide. 

“yeah, ‘m okay,” he murmurs, his eyelashes ticking your skin when he blinks his eyes shut. “just don’t like heights very much.”

“oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?” you cry out, jumping a bit and regretting it when you rock the carriage again. “nevermind that, what can i do? it’ll go down soon, you’ll be alright.”

“just keep holding my hand?” he squeezes your fingers lightly and your heart melts. you may have made a joke that he was just trying to trick you into holding his hand any other time, but the fear in his shaking body was real and you’d never tease him for that. 

“of course,” you press a kiss to his hair, moving your other hand slowly to wrap around your intertwined fingers. the wheel begins to turn again, swaying the carriage as it descends. you keep your grip on his hand tight the entire time, all the way until you’re on your feet again on steady ground. 

“i’m so sorry,” you begin to say, the horror of subjecting him to his fear creeping up now that the crisis has passed. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he says, cutting off your apology and lifting your hands to his mouth so he could press a kiss to the back of yours. “no one’s ever been able to keep me that calm. thank you.”

you were left speechless after that and all you could do was smile at him, the ghost of it not leaving your face for the rest of the night. 

–

your thirty first date with chan ends with you crying into changbin’s arms, utterly confused and the feeling of despair creeping up your veins. you had met him your cafe as you had done several times since the fair, but when you arrived he wasn’t there. he came late, dark storms in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw and you didn’t understand what had made him like that. the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes were missing, and when you and asked him about what was wrong he had snapped at you in a way you hadn’t been talked to in years. 

you had left after that, brushing him off when his eyes had widened and he reached for you while calling out your name. you know that you should have given him a chance to explain, but at the time you were too hurt to consider it. 

you made your way to changbin’s apartment without thinking, your feet taking you to safety before your head could catch up. changbin had taken one look at your face before wrapping you up in his arm, walking you to his couch so he could cuddle you properly while words spilled out of you like a leaky faucet. you felt like you were back in college, crying and blubbering over a boy who had rejected you at a party, and you hated it. 

you didn’t notice changbin sending an angry text to chan, but the sound of changbin’s door opening with a bang startled you out of your tears. chan bursts in like a whirlwind, his hair sticking up at weird angles and a look of panic on his face as he takes you in. he reaches the couch in a few strides and falls to his knees in front of you, holding a crumpled bag from the cafe in his hand and taking your cheek gently into his other. his thumb wipes at the tear tracks there and you could practically taste the guilt emanating off of him. 

“love, i am so sorry,” he starts, ignoring changbin when he scoffs at the apology. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you, i had no right to do that. i got some bad news this morning and i wasn’t feeling my best, and i should have been honest with you. i’ll never do anything like that again, please forgive me? i’ll do anything.”

it was more his voice than his words that did it - he sounded so desperate, like he was trying to hold

onto a ledge that was crumbling, threatening to hurl his body into eternal nothingness. you knew him, you knew he was sorry, and against your first instinct you trusted him when he said he wouldn’t do it again. 

“is that an almond croissant?” you eye the bag in his hand. 

“it’s two almond croissants,” he nods fervently, his hair swishing back and forth with the movement. you sit up, sliding out of changbin’s arms and onto the floor in front of chan. chan’s arms replace changbin’s easily when you lean into him, and it feels like coming home. 

“it’s not like i have a nice couch you could be sitting on,” changbin mutters as he leaves, shaking his head fondly at the two of you before making himself scarce. 

chan kisses you, cradling your head gently into his hands, and they’re so warm. he slides his lips against yours, slowly like he’s taking his time memorizing the planes of your mouth to commit to memory. even after kissing him dozens of times you still find new things to learn about each other. 

“i swear,” he says, pulling away to meet your eyes. “i’m going to marry you, someday.”

“keep getting me croissants as apologies and we’ll see,” you say, sniffling into his neck. 

—

your eighty seventh date was spent in your bed, your head spinning like both hands on a clock simultaneously and your body exuding more sweat than you ever have. 

chan is wringing out a cool cloth to place on your forehead and it feels so nice that you moan. 

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and chan has lost count of the amount of times you’ve said it at this point. “we had a date and i ruined it.”

“we were going to see a movie,” he says, running a hand up and down your spine. “and we will. we don’t need a movie theater when we have a screen right here, hmm?” 

“but the popcorn,” you complain, closing your eyes in bliss when he runs a hand through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. an apology for being so sweaty was at the tip of your tongue but you hold it back in favor of enjoying the feeling of his touch. 

“i’ll make you all the popcorn you want when you’re feeling better,” he promises, dropping a kiss to the side of your head. “for now, how does soup sound?” 

“popcorn soup?“ you ask, a wave of dizziness taking over your body; if you weren’t lying down already, you’re sure that too would be falling over. 

“yeah, baby,” and even in your delirium the fondness in his voice was prominent. he couldn’t hide it even if he tried. “i’ll make you some popcorn soup. get some rest okay?”

you’re asleep before he leaves the room, and you only wake up when he shakes your shoulder a bit and helps you into an upright position. he feeds you bites of what is definitely not popcorn soup after putting a movie on your laptop, the screen sitting at the foot of your bed. the both of you fall asleep before the movie finishes, but you don’t mind. 

he stays with you for days, making you soup and tea and toast and feeding you medicine and being an all-around angel as he nurses you back to health. by the time you’re better you think you’ve fallen back in love with him several times. 

as you had expected and warned him about, he catches your sickness the next week, and now it’s your turn to be his nurse. you try and do the same job he did, but his delirium seems worse. the silver lining is that his fever isn’t as bad, so you’re babysitting a babbling boyfriend more than a sick one. 

the night before his fever breaks is the worst, since he doesn’t even recognize you. you shake your head at his silliness when he asks who you are and calls you pretty. you smile when he takes your hand in his and asks you to come closer. 

you tear up when he tells you that he has a girlfriend that he loves very much and so even though you’re pretty he can’t do anything else because his girlfriend is the prettiest one in the whole world. you let a tear slip when he tells you that he can’t wait to propose to his girlfriend and that he’s going to marry her someday. 

you tell him that you have a boyfriend that you're going to marry someday, trusting that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

—

your hundredth and fifth date was not unlike your fifth, or your tenth, or your ninetieth. two and a half years later, you were just as endeared by him and he was just as obsessed with you - even more so, if it were possible. 

he takes the time to tell you how gorgeous you look when he picks you up just like he does on every date, and you hide your disgustingly fond smile for him behind his back like you do every time you see him. 

he parks and runs around the car to let you out like he does every time you habit this restaurant, a little fancier than your usual best but it was a favorite of the both of yours - across the street from the bar the two of you had met at. 

you start walking before he does, letting him jog to meet you and complain about how you left him, just like you do every time. before him. you might have thought the monotony would have gotten tiring, but he had a fantastical ability to make every moment feel like the first despite their practiced nature. 

he calls your name from behind you right on schedule and you hum in acknowledgement, turning towards him absentmindedly. the second you lay eyes on him you’re completely alert, though; he isn’t jogging after you, but rather he’s kneeling on the sidewalk, a small box in his hands as he smiles up at you. 

“i’ve told you that i’m going to marry you more times than i can count,” he starts, eyes shining like the stars twinkling in the night sky above you. “but this time i’m asking you.”

“chan,” you choke out, hands coming up to cover your mouth as it quivers. tears spring to your eyes and you silently curse yourself - you always thought you’d be level headed when you got proposed to, but nothing could have prepared you for this, not even the thousands of declarations he had made to you prior. 

“i love you. you’re the only one in the entire universe that i need more than blood or breath, you’re the song that runs through my heart and the fire that leads my path when i’m lost,” his voice is thick, like he’s trying to hold back his emotions long enough to get his words out. “i never thought that i would feel so strongly for someone, i never thought that i deserved a love like this until i met you.”

he pauses as you walk closer to him, letting you approach him before he continues. 

“my love, my eternal light,” he’s tearing up now, blinking fast to keep the salty water at bay. “will you marry me?”

“chan,” you start, kneeling down next to him and taking his wrists in your hands. “i never told you this, but ever since that first day i knew. i knew that the drunk idiot that was hitting on me would be my husband.”

he chuckles, smiling delightedly as the tears finally spring from both of your eyes in unison.

“so?” he trails off, searching your face with his eyes, waiting. 

“oh!” you tighten your grip on him in an apology. “of course i’ll marry you, gosh i love you so much.”

[quantum1mmortality]

Rubatosis;

The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat

•Captain Curly x reader

Chat bare with me I'm trying out a new aesthetic because I'm sick and tired of my blog being UGLY and CHAOTIC so I'm using dividers and sticking to a color scheme for the first time don't judge me pls

Summary; Winter storm, blackout, no heater; the worst things that could've happened on your only weekend off. Luckily, your boyfriend Curly knows how to keep you warm.

Tw/cw; Afab!reader, pre established relationships (you guys are dating), cursing, the word 'radiate" is used like 20 times don't mind that chat, no use of y/n just curly calling you various pet names, no prep like at all(slight fingering????), curly whimpers, the smut is actually really unnecessary but ignore that too, piv, pwp??, unsafe sex, cumming INSIDE!!!, praise kink, curly talks you through it (I think)

Not proofread

You curl up with as many blankets as you can, shivering and watching your breath become visible from the cold. You can feel your body go numb as all you can do is wait for your power to come back on. It's been out for the past hour, and with the awful snow storm that just rolled through your town, you can tell it isn't coming back on anyime soon.

Sounds come from outside your window, sounds that you can barely hear over the cold chattering of your teeth. A car parking in your driveway, a car door opening and closing, and heavy feet making their way to your front door, shaking the doorknob while trying to open it.

The door creeks open, followed by the sound of heavy winds. You can hear footsteps walk into your house, closing the door, and walking towards the bedroom you now reside in.

"Sorry about the wait, love. I tried to leave work as soon as I heard about the power outage, but thought it would be best to stop somewhere to get some things to warm you up." It was your boyfriend, Curly, who you had no idea was coming over. Yet here you are, shaking in a cold bed as he roots through the bags he brought with him.

As he digs through the bags, seemingly looking for something specific, he throws miscellaneous items on your bed. Chocolates, a candle, a box of matches, more chocolates, and a bottle of wine. "Since we're basically trapped in here till the storm is over, I thought we could make the most of it. Have a romantic weekend or something.. I tried getting things I knew you'd like."

Just then, he finds what he was looking for; hand warmers. Ripping open the packaging, he walks to your side of the bed, handing you all that was in the box. The heat radiating from them was almost hurting you, but burning doesn't feel so bad when you're freezing.

Curly leaves the room for a moment, coming back with two wine glasses in hand; placing them on your bedside table. He takes off his work uniform, leaving him in only an undershirt and pants. You hold out your arms to him, signalling that you want him to be in bed with you. He smiles, lifting up the blankets and laying next to you.

You shiver, feeling his warm hands touch your cold body. "Poor thing.. I wish I could've been here sooner, maybe prevent you from getting to this state." He says softly, kissing your forehead as he raps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

"I'm glad you're here.." you say, dozing off. The warmth Curly radiates was more than enough to make your body become less tense. Your hands make their way to his chest, pressing gently as you bury your head in the crook of his neck.

"I know you are, love, and I'm glad to be here, too." He whispered softly, hands traveling from your waist to your hips. He lifts your shirt up slightly, moving his fingertips to your now exposed skin. "Fuck, you're freezing." You could hear the concern in his voice, switching from just his fingertips to his whole hand. "Does that feel better? Are you warmer now?"

You nod. Everything about him was warm, a stark contrast from how cold you currently are. Any part of him that was directly touching you was doing wonders for your current state. "Use your words, love." Even when you're freezing, Curly will still find a way to tease you. This world is so cruel.

You sigh, "yeah, that feels better. Thank you." He smiles, happy with your answer. He pulls your body closer to his, your chest flush against his own. His fingertips move in a circular motion, trying to keep you calm. Which, to his credit, is working.

With the warmth of your beloved boyfriend mixed with the light musk scent of the cologne he always wore, you were falling asleep quickly. He could feel your eyelashes flutter shut against his neck, followed by your soft breathing hitting his skin. He presses a small kiss on your forehead, pulling you just the slightest bit closer to himself before dozing off.

Your eyes slowly open, groaning out as you realize it's still cold in your room. You try to back away, but Curlys grip on you tightens. He shifts slightly as he begins to wake up, hands moving from your waist, to his eyes, to your waist again. "Good morning, beautiful.. lovely seeing you here." He says in a raspy tone, indicating he just woke up.

You smile, curling back into his grasp. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." You say in an almost hushed voice. He chuckles, placing a small kiss on your cheek.

"No worries, love. Just more time I get to spend with you." He chuckles, burying his head in the crook of your neck; kissing every bit of exposed skin he could in the process. You laugh, squirming in his arms, but his grip on you only tightens.

"Curly- stop-" you get out between giggles.

He lays one final kiss just below your ear, letting out a heavy sigh; now out of breath. He places one of his hands on your chest, just below your collar bone. His fingertips trace up the skin of your neck, stopping to grab your chin, lifting it up slightly.

Your eyes meet with his and he leans in for a kiss. It was soft, gentle, everything he was condensed into a simple act of affection. It was perfect. His hands fully cupping your face, pulling you in so he can deepen the kiss further.

Your hands their way to his scalp, his hair curling between your fingers as you gently pull. His mouth opens for a split second, letting out a small whimper at the new sensation. His kisses become slightly sloppy as he begins to sit up, flipping you so your back is now pressed against the bed. He places himself between your legs, breaking the kiss so he can trail small kisses and nibble down your neck.

As his hands wander down your chest, to your waist, and eventually to your hips, he sings small praises to you in-between each mark he lays on your neck. His fingers go under the seam of your panties, slipping them off of you with ease. With one hand keeping your legs open, the other traces up your inner thigh, slowly inserting one of his digits into your aching heat.

"Curly~" you gasp, your hands locking behind his neck as a way to ground yourself. Just then, he slips another in. The feeling of his cold fingers curling inside of you sent shockwaves through your body.

Curly takes his fingers out of your cunt, lifting his head from your neck to lick off the slick that remains. You whine at the empty feeling, small tears forming already. "Crying already, love?" He says with a smile. He lines his cock to your entrance, the tip prodding at your hole. He lowers his body back down to yours, "forgive me, dear. Sorry if this hurts." He whispers in your ear.

Your hands go back to his neck, going up to grab his hair again. You cry out as you can feel him stretch your insides, pulling at his hair even more in the process. Curly grips the sheets beneath him, his hand quickly moving to your waist to hold both you, and himself down.

As he can feel you reach your limit, he stops, holding still for a moment. "Are you alright? You're not too hurt, are you?" He says, raising his head to look at you.

"Y-yeah.. it just hurts a bit.." you trail off. He sighs in relief.

"I know, love. It's going to. I wish there was more I could do, but I promise it'll be worth it. Alright?" He smiles, kissing away the small tear lines on your cheeks. You smile back, coming your fingers through his hair gently before moving your hands to rest on his back instead.

He takes a deep breath, slowly moving his hips backwards before meeting with yours again. His steady thrusts help you adjust to his size better, but it only leaves you wanting more.

"I'm gonna go faster, alright?" He says, nearly out of breath. You nod. He increases his speed, going faster than you had anticipated. You cry out his name, digging your nails into the skin on his back. "I know, love, I know." He whispered.

More tears stream down your face as the pain quickly turns into pleasure. You moan with each thrust, nails still digging into his back. Curly whimpers at the feeling, "fuck- just like that, you're doing amazing, love~" he says in a soft, out of breath tone.

You can feel yourself getting closer as your legs instinctively close around his hips, inadvertently pushing him deeper inside you. You try to speak, but the words just won't come out. "Curly- I-" you stutter, not being able to think straight because of the pleasure.

His pace doesn't falter, though. His hands move to your thighs, holding onto them with force in an attempt to not go any rougher than he already is. Your cries and moans become louder, chanting his name as if it were a prayer. You feel the knot in your stomach come undone, your back arching and head thrown back. With one final moan, you can feel a wave of pleasure wash over you, followed by your slick soiling the sheets beneath you.

"Just a little longer, love. You've done so well for me this far, I'm sure you can hold out a bit more." Curly praised, continuing his pace. His hands grip your thighs tighter, leaving crescent shaped marks on your flesh. With one more deep, rough thrust, he moans out your name, releasing inside of you. He collapses on top of you, his head resting on your shoulder as you both try to catch your breath.

"Are you.. still cold?" He whispered softly.

You smile, "no. Not at all."

A/N; this would've been out two days ago but the new stardew valley update came to console and I've been GRINDING that shit. Also, the title was supposed to make an appearance in the fic. Right before the smut starts, when curly puts his hand on YOUR 🫵 chest, I was gonna add some dialogue like, "your heart is beating fast.. do I make you nervous?" But I thought that was cringe and cut it out.

[azrielwingspan]

A TACTICAL PLOY (AZRIEL X READER)

Summary : You knew Azriel had been pining after you for a very long time but you NEEDED him to make a move. So in order to give him a little push, you made use of a very tactical weapon : Jealousy.

Warnings: None

Blue eyes. Green eyes. Brown eyes. Eyes trailing you across the room, whispering across your skin , feeding your ego. Yet your eyes sought out the hazel ones.

Shades of gold, green and brown that set a trail of fire across your skin. Eyes that made you feel. Eyes that made you want. The gold pierced through your skin, peering into your heart and soul. The green trailed across your flesh, making you yearn for things that plagued your dreams. The brown spoke of a future if you only dared to take that first step.

Ah, that was the obstacle. The first step.

You had one simple rule when it came to males.

You never chase.

So as you walked through the room, your blasé attitude making you all the more enticing, your heart betrayed you ignoring the rules your mind had set. It searched for him, desperate for the hit of ecstasy he would induce.

Once it found him, the decadent hit of euphoria rushed through your veins, leaving behind a crack in your mask. It was intentional. Every emotion, every 'slip' of the tongue, every word, every glance. He was the spymaster after all.

He glanced your way and tipped his chin in greeting.

You raised your glass, taking a sip and watched his eyes trail over you.

Longing, desiring and denying.

That was all he ever did. Denied himself of you.

You would be lying if you said you understood why he did what he did. You would be lying if you said it didn't make you doubt yourself. However, you knew for a fact he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

You would've been dense to not notice the heat in his eyes, the glances filled with unfulfilled promises, the softness behind his words and the kindness in his actions. It drove you mad some days. Drove you to the brink of breaking your rule.

You never chase.

You yearned to be wanted. You yearned to be fought for. You yearned to be loved, cherished and indulged in. So you had waited... and waited...and waited. A small part of you believed you were foolish enough to keep waiting for however long it took. Yet as a female, you had your wants and needs. There was only so much patience you could exhibit and you were currently running out of it.

Therefore, you decided to give him a little...push.

Tactic I : The art of heedlessness

You shook hands, kissed cheeks, hugged bodies , all the while never looking his way. Of course, you were aware of his presence acutely. It made it all the more fun. At one point, you had walked right past him talking animatedly with one of the guests. His scent had overtaken your senses and you had to physically stop yourself from responding to it.

His eyes, trailing you, lighting your skin on fire , the tension gasoline.

Watch me. Come to me. Talk to me.

Your eyes were fixed on your companions, their words a cacophony compared to the conversations the both of you had shared. The wine was making you bolder, impatient and lulling you into thoughts you kept at bay.

Tactic II : The art of flirtation

A subtle tuck of a strand of hair behind your ear, a soft tilt of your lips, a soft huff of laughter, an inch closer. You looked away from the male in front of you to glance down at your wine. Empty.

How many more glasses would you have to guzzle down before the spymaster grew some balls?

You pulled your hair to one side, the heat starting to stick to your neck. Looking up once again, you noticed that the males gaze in front of you was transfixed to the slope of your neck. Wonderful. Time to leave.

"Well, I should go." Turning around before he could respond, you walked away in the search of more wine.

Tactic III : The art of impelling

You didn't meet his gaze as a group of you stood near the balcony overlooking the Sidra. The flow of the water reached your ears, the sound a welcome distraction. Closing your eyes momentarily, you let the memory of the coolness of the water wash over you.

"I'll be heading home now." you spoke into the night, your companions voicing out their interjections. A small smirk and shake of the head later, you walked towards the exit not bothering to say goodbye to the male with no balls.

A few kisses on the cheek, soft smiles and polite goodbyes on the way to the exit.

"I'll drop you home." the voice swept over your skin like a shadow trailing its fingers across your skin.

"I'll be alright." you said, head turned over your shoulder.

There he was, finally...

"I insist." No arguments. That was final.

"If you insist." you say, wrapping your scarf around yourself.

Silence was the third being accompanying the both of you. You let it play its part, choosing not to say anything. It was entertaining, watching him struggle to say something...anything. He was doing a good job at hiding his emotions but he could never truly hide them from you.

After watching him suffer for a few more minutes , you say "If you're done struggling, we could teach you a thing or two on how to talk to females."

His face turned red, as his shadows skittered around.

Your house had come into view, the star lit night casting soft shadows around the both of you.

"Well.." you turned to him and said watching him under the moonlight.

"Well..." he replied watching you through his shadows.

A pang of disappointment rushed through you as you took a step back from him. "Good night then."

"Good night." he said, his voice dropping.

Giving him a final nod, you turned around not wanting him to see the look of disappointment on your face. You would never be desperate...no matter who it was.

Legs feeling like lead, you forced yourself to take that first step towards your house mustering all the will power within you. Just as you had lifted your leg off of the ground, a shadow wrapped around your wrist and tugged you backwards. A yelp made its way out of you as warm hands caught you, goosebumps making their way across your skin.

For a moment only two sets of heavy breaths could be heard. Maybe he could hear your heart thudding out of your chest. You lost track of what happened in the next few seconds as the shadowsinger pulled you into a ravishing kiss, igniting your body and jumbling your thoughts.

Lips coaxed your open, tongue sliding in to give you a taste of whisky and something darker and heady. Hands travelled down your sides, stopping at your hips only to give them a gentle squeeze. Your hands were on a path of their own, travelling into his hair and giving it a gentle tug.

All your senses were attenuated to the male in front of you. You were lost in another universe, a universe of want and need.

Suddenly, he pulls back to look down at you, his eyes wild and predatory. "I couldn't put into words what I felt..."

You brushed your lips against his, eyes fluttering shut. "Then show me...."

You could feel his lips split into a devilish grin before the both of you were engulfed by shadows.

[pitchsidestories]

early twenties II Barcelona Femení x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1886

a/n: thanks for your lovely request anon, we hope you all enjoy this one. <3

You laid in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. You could pretend you’re sick. You could just say that you didn’t feel like going out tonight. Maybe fake a university assignment that you didn't have.

You heard the door to your bedroom open a crack. Without looking, you knew it was Alexia standing there.

“Do I really have to go? I’d rather stay in my room tonight.“, you only half-joked towards the ceiling.

“No, you’re coming with us. It’s a team thing.“, Alexia replied firmly.

You sat up: “But…“

“Not wanting to see your crush is no excuse. Come on, we don’t want to be late.“, she interrupted your protests quickly.

For a second you just stared at her. Then you gave in. “Okay, fine. Just let me get ready first.“

“Good.“ Your teammate nodded once, seemingly satisfied with your decision. As if you had a choice.

“See you.“ You looked at her expectantly, hoping that she would take the hint.

Luckily she understood and wordlessly closed the door behind her.

You sighed before crawling out of your bed. Since it was only a team event, you decided to keep it simple. You changed into a pair of dark pants and a thin sweater. You studied yourself in the mirror. You decided that you looked nice but not as if you were trying too hard.

You slipped on your shoes, grabbed your bag and left your room.

Alexia who stood outside and pushed a pair of sunglasses back into her hair in front of the hallway mirror, turned to you and gave you an approving smile: “You look great. Now we’re ready to go.“

She shrugged into her trench coat and took her keys.

“Okay…" you mumbled as you followed her outside.

Since the bar was down the street, you decided to walk. Lost in your own thoughts, you walked alongside Alexia for a while until she suddenly asked: “So, who is it?”

You looked up, surprised by the unexpected question and blinked at her a few times. “Who?”

You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks.

“Your crush.“, Alexia said matter-of-factly, either not noticing or deliberately ignoring your embarrassment.

“I…“, you began. The two of you were already right in front of the bar. You just had to open the door and maybe you could get away without answering.

“Ona, Luce, Mario, hey!”, you beamed at the players already sitting at a table. You could feel Alexias eyes on you, signalling you that sooner or later she would get her answer.

But for now, you took the seat next to Lucy.

“Hi, you look good today.“, she grinned at you.

You laughed: “You’re the second person who said that today. What a weird coincidence.“

“Because it’s true.“, Mariona chimed in.

“Yes, your hair looks so nice.”, Ona added. The loving attention of your teammates made your cheeks only blush harder.  You were grateful for the dimmed lightning, so no one was able to tell that your face turned red from the slight embarrassment you felt when they complimented you.

“Thanks, Oni. We’ll go home when our social battery runs out right?”, you asked the fellow introverted footballer with a half-crooked smile on your lips.

“Right.”, she returned your grin. Her reassurance let you breathe a little easier.

“But first we’ll have some fun.”, Lucy padded encouragingly your back. After a short pause the English defender posed a question smirking. “What do you guys’ think is it too early for a first round of aperitifs?”

“I thought we were here to do shots!”, Mapi protested playfully.

“Yes, but this is classier, Maria.”, the older woman countered.

Accidentally your eyes linked with Claudias who was in a deep conversation with Patri, your cheeks started to burn as you felt her looking intensely back at you.

To the two teammates who were still in a discussion on what drinks were the best to start the night you declared nervously.

“I don’t care what it’s I just need a bit of alcohol.”

“I’ll order us some wine.”, Alexia decided who was sitting opposite to you.

“Sounds good.”, you agreed, you were glad that she helped you with this decision because knowing yourself you would’ve taken forever until you decided on something to drink.

“I’ll make you drink shots with me later.”, Mapi threw in amused at the thought of it.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”, you asked her chuckling.

“No, that would be irresponsible only slightly tipsy so..”, she begun to explain.

“So I tell you more about my crush?”, you finished the sentence for her.

“That was the plan.”, the heavily tattooed Spaniard admitted sighing.

“I thought the plan was to say goodbye to a few of our favourite teammates.”, you pointed towards Mariona and Lucy who would both leave Barcelona for London. Your heart sank while you thought about their nearing departure both teammates meant a lot to you, they and Alexia were like the big sisters you never had but always wanted.

“That too.”, Alexia revealed as the waiter brought two glasses filled with wine, you clinked them solemnly together before taking a first long sip of the dark-red liquid.

“Aw, we’re your faves?”, the English defender questioned teasingly.

“No, you’re the most annoying and I’m glad you’re leaving Lucia.”, you joked rolling your eyes at her. The wine provided you the ease and confidence you needed to be more chilled around Claudia. But God, why did she had to look so good tonight, you asked yourself.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t cry too hard when we leave.”, she replied cockily seeing right through your jokes.

Mapi moved closer to you, studying your face: “I think the alcohol is working, girls. It’s Claudia, right? Your crush?”

You almost spilled your drink, a few drops landing on your sweater. You swallowed hard: “Uhm… what?”

“That’s a yes.“, Alexia confirmed with a smirk.

Ona smiled: “Without a doubt.“

You flinched subconsciously and hoped that it was dark enough in the room that the others couldn’t see you blush. Your gaze shifted towards Claudia at the other end of the table, deep in talk with Patri. “Guys, be quiet!”

Alexia deliberately ignored you and called over to her: “Clau?“

“Ale, no!”, you whispered slightly panicked.

“Let’s switch seats.“, Alexia said and got up. Of course, Claudia followed her captains instructions.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.“, you said to no one in particular and then greeted Claudia. “Clau, hello.“

“Hi.“, she beamed. Nothing about her gave you the impression that she would have preferred to stay at her seat, she seamed genuinely happy to talk to you.

You tried to cover up any awkwardness by asking: “Do you have any plans for your free days yet?”

Claudia shook her head: “No, not yet. Do you?”

“No, me neither. Apart from relaxing.“, you bit your lip, wishing you had something more interesting to tell her.

“Me too. Happy for a break after this season.“, she laughed and sighed deeply for emphasis.

“Yes, maybe I’ll go home to Menorca…“, you thought out loud.

Claudia looked at you. “Oh.“

“Maybe.“, you added, unsure about how to interpret her reaction but Claudia shook her head determinedly: “You should go. It’ll be good for you. But if you’re here at one point…“

You waited for her to finish her thought: “Yes?”

The attacking midfielder shrugged, gaze directed towards the table: “Maybe we could go out together at some point.“

“Wait, really? You frowned. “But what about Patri and you… aren’t you two a thing?”

She stared at you for a moment and said nothing but then she burst into laughter: “What? No!”

You suddenly felt hot. Could your cheeks get any redder at this point?

“Sorry, maybe I misread something…“

“You really thought we were dating the whole time? Maybe Patri and I have to reevaluate the boundaries of our friendship.“, Claudia still grinned, wiping a tear of laughter from her cheek.

“No, I didn’t. I just thought… maybe you fancied her.“, you admitted and guiltily bit down on your lower lip.

The young player suddenly turned serious again, searching for your eyes: “I do fancy someone… but it’s not her.“

“So do I…“

“Tell me who it is.“, Claudia begged. She cautiously watched you as she waited for your answer.

There it was, the perfect opportunity. It was now or never. So you took a deep breath and gathered all your courage.

“It’s y-you.“

“Me? I think we should go on a date then.”, much to your surprise the forward beamed at you.  

“Wait, I’m your crush?”, you tried to process what the girl you had feelings for a while just said.

“Yes.”, Claudia affirmed still smiling. Even in the bad lit room you could see her adorable dimple.

“This deserves another shot!”, Mapi yelled excitedly in the background.

“Mapi.”, you wanted her to stay calm and don’t make a big thing out of it, yet over the years you had been this team you got to know her very well the Spanish defender would do as she pleases.

“Too soon?”, Mapi responded sounding innocent.

“Bring the shots anyway.”, Lucy waved it off.

“You had enough, amor.”, Ona stated firmly, resting a hand on her girlfriend’s arm.

“You just didn’t have enough. It’s the last one anyway.”, the older defender reminded the younger one pressing a soft kiss to her lover’s forehead. It genuinely warmed your heart seeing them this openly affectionate around the team. Maybe the young forward and you could have something similar very soon.

Still, something else made you shudder pleasantly. It was Claudias voice near to your ear.

“Let’s go to my place after the shots.”

“Deal., you whispered, before continuing louder for everyone to hear, cheers.”

Pleased how the evening had unfolded Lucy turned around to face Mariona, wearing a satisfied smile on her lips.

“Mario, I guess that means we can safely leave. Everyone here is taken care of.”

The midfielder quickly agreed with her while Ona remembered your talk from earlier reaching out to you with her free hand. “Is your social battery low now, y/n?”

“Yes. I’ll go with Claus to her home though.”, you told her.

“Okay, have fun.”, she winked mischievously at you.

Meanwhile Lucy didn’t let you leave that easy without a big sister remark.

“Claudia if you don’t treat her right I swear..”, she warned the young forward laughing.

“Clau is a good one.”, Alexia interjected.

“She’s and if you don’t treat Clau right, y/n.”, Patri picked up on what the older Englishwoman had said with twinkling eyes.

“Patri we’re talking about sweet y/n here.”, Mariona protested.

“And Claudia isn’t an absolute angel?!”, the other Mallorquin replied promptly.

“Clau, I think it’s time to leave.”, you cleared your throat, pulling her sleeve slightly.

“Please. This is getting embarrassing.”, Claudia muttered.

“Agreed. Good night, guys.”, you waved at your teammates.

“Night girls.”, Alexia answered.

“Do everything I’d do!”, Lucy called after you two grinning. You could hear her girlfriend clicking her tongue reprovingly.

“Let’s just go.”, you pleaded.

“Please before it gets weird.”, Claudia nodded taking your hand in hers as you went into the night together. You both were in your early twenties, everything was still ahead of you and you were excited for what was to come.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

hear me out..what abt u and miguel in a hotub trying to hide that fact that you guys are literally screwing eachother in front of the others🤭🤭and he’s talking u through it..whispering in ur ear..telling u to be quiet while he’s literally roaming his hands all over u! 😋😋

this is a leeetle bit funny to me bc in real life, sex is the last thing i'd wanna do in a hot tub. But for Miguel..... 😍😍

Wandering Hands

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: Husband!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: You're on a trip away with your husband, Miguel. He gets handsy. (Hot tub sex + Husband!Miguel)

warnings: 18+ , fingering, p in v, instructional, Miguel talks you through it, teeny tiny bit of f!dom, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, very very sappy. Minors DNI

a/n: this is disgustingly sappy and cheesy at some points - I kinda have to apologise in advance. I've had a rough week lmao

very big thank you to my beta reader @tianyhi <33

wc: 2.7k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wandering hands: Miguel has wandering hands. 

It's your anniversary, and that's the thought you're left with as he kneads your thigh, eyes low at a fancy resort. A resort you practically dragged him to, mind you.  He's a workhorse; absorbed in his job and everything that comes with it. Your husband; diligent and devoted, as always; he needed a break. Somewhere hot, somewhere expensive. It’s what he deserved. And whilst he would never take the initiative to book one for himself, isn't that what a wonderful SO was there for?

To his credit, he's been 'unplugged' since the moment you got here - putting away his work laptop and ignoring all the calls he'd get from overbearing clients. His sole focus for this whole week is you; and he's made that abundantly clear. The lingering looks, gentle touches: everything about him screams love and warmth. And he's all yours - a fact that still sends you spiralling, every now and then. All yours. 

"You're not paying attention, cariño." He says under his breath, swirling the wine under his nose like the man in front of him. 

You're both at a wine tasting, like sophisticated adults (...who had made fun of the idea on the way over). Miguel's wearing pressed trousers that hang on his frame just right, and a tank top underneath an open button-up. The peek of flesh makes you hot under the collar like a Victorian housewife, and you flush when you realise you're staring. Miguel pinches your cheek with a laugh, soothing it with a simple kiss. 

Huffing, you take a sip of the expensive wine without thinking. There’s a gasp from the sommelier, and the small group turns to look at you. Your face heats up when you realise what you’ve done - shirking from the pack of eyes silent with sharp critique. A man beside you taps your shoulder with a slimy smile. 

“Miss, that’s a 1978 Monfortino. It probably costs more than your rent.” 

“...I thought this was a wine tasting. So eventually, we have to… taste. The wine.” Miguel chuckles into his drink, squeezing at your waist. You make a fair point.

The man laughs, smug. “With all due respect, it’s an experience of the senses… maybe this is your first time somewhere with this kind of price tag, but it’s quite rude to-”

Miguel clears his throat, flashing a disarming smile at the man to your side. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, with a dangerous veneer you’ve seen before. The smile he gives before closing a big deal at work, calculated and shiny – when he smells blood in the water. 

“With all due respect, watch your fucking tone.” 

His face drops just as quickly, and he downs the rest of his wine, standing up - hand outstretched to take you with him. Gladly, you follow, click-clacking in your heels and little dress; hand tight around his.

“...Pinche idiota…vete a la verga…smug little-” It’s under his breath, but his intensity makes you giggle. 

In the elevator up to your room, he stews, brow creased in little furrows. A force of habit, he pulls you closer, tucking away a stray strand of hair. With a smile, you knead his temples, smoothing the creases. He visibly softens and leans into your touch.

“You’re on vacation, Miguel. Relax, baby.” 

“S’not that simple.” He grumbles, but chases your lips with his own, regardless.

Defiant, you move at the last moment, chin up in the air.

“No, I’m being serious.” He snakes a hand to your ass, dancing over the hem of your dress. 

"I could think of a few ways to decompress, if you're up for it…" Voice low and silky, want pools at the base of your stomach. 

"Miguelito, the bedroom voice doesn't work on me, anymore." You slather on the charm, batting your eyelashes in a way that makes him laugh. He rolls his eyes. 

"Let's do something. I think…I think the spa's still open? We could get a massage-" 

"I don't want a massage unless it's you, baby."

"...or go to the sauna-"

"Didn't pack the right clothes, m'afraid."

"God, don't be mean." It's your turn to roll your eyes. And you whack at his chest, admonishing him gently. "What about the hot tubs?"

He turns his head to the side as if he's deep in thought. Pondering, weighing up the options; when really, the only thought in his head was you in a tiny bikini. 

"If you insist, cariño." 

~~~

The spa isn't too far from your hotel, a stone's throw from the beach. You walk with Miguel in the pleasant evening heat, flip-flops and cover ups light on your back. 

There at the back, open air, behind rows of beach houses and overlooking the sea. You settle into the tubs, each one sectioned by wooden slats and climbing plants - not visible from the main spa, but not completely closed off, either. You can still hear the quiet buzz of other people, although it's not too full this late in the day. 

You slip the light fabric onto the floor, and step out of the cover-up. Miguel, already in the water, watches the light ripple off of your skin. You don't catch him staring, but you feel it. His gaze is heavy as he drinks it in; you are dappled and gorgeous, and his heart is full. You slip in, shuffling up close to him in the dull thrum of the water jets. 

Eyes closed, you rest your head on his shoulder. "You're staring." 

"Yeah." It's so soft, said in the press of warm bodies, that you almost don't hear it. Playfully, he flicks your forehead - in that little triangle between your eyebrows that appears when you're resting. It's cute, he thinks. "...you got a problem with that?"

Laughing, you shake your head. "It's not too much?" 

He moves closer to you, hands on your hips and mouth pressing soft kisses into your neck. 

"The trip, I mean. It was a little last minute, and there was that thing with our passports…" You sigh, turning towards him, hand on his chest to stop him. "I just thought you needed a break. And I know this isn't usually your thing, but I want you to enjoy yourself. If you're not, let me know, and I'll book the first plane out of here, I promise." 

You're looking up at him, clearly worried, and his heart breaks. It's almost as if you've forgotten that an anniversary entails both people, together as one. The truth is, as long as he's with you, and you're having a good time… 

"Doesn't matter where we go, cariño. I'm right where I need to be if I'm with you." He says it like a statement - so matter-of-factly it makes your head spin. Because, you suppose, to him it was a ubiquitous truth: that in every universe, every iteration, the both of you belonged together. What would sound over the top or cheesy coming from someone else, is made so simple by Miguel. A fundamental truth: his home, his happiness, his heartaches and highest highs, were with you, and you alone. 

"Promise me."

"Hand on my heart, baby." He places a palm that spans the crest of his ribcage. "...I promise."

He guides you onto his lap, so your back presses to his. His kisses are so light and airy, you don't notice how his hand creeps towards your thigh and the gentle movement of his hips under yours. 

"You always take care of me," His hand snaps the band of your bikini bottoms, making you writhe on his lap. "Let me return the favour. Relax, cariño."

You nod, gently, eyes blown when you realise what exactly that means. Miguel's large palms dance over your tummy, pinching at the flesh to make you laugh; and then down to your thighs, to paw at them. He shifts, directing you over the jet by the base of the seat, and there is delicious pressure at your clit. 

He cups your pussy under the foam of the water, ripping a heady moan of which you try to subdue. You lean into it: the hand that's now migrated into your bikini, the rock of his hips, and the hickeys he sucks into skin. Coupled with the fact you were in public, he brings you to climax quicker than even he expected. You were so needy, everything about your body telling him you wanted more - needed more. He presses the pad of his finger over your clit, barely there, and you claw at his arms under the water. 

"More?" He coos, dulcet tones brushing the shell of your ear. "Pórtate bien,  okay?" 

So lost in your haze, you don't register the steady padding of a pair of people coming towards you, behind the wooden divider. A head pops over, and you still his wandering hands. 

"Oh, there y'all are!" You see the bronzed face of Jess and her husband, a couple you had met during the trip. She bounces towards you both with dizzying accuracy, donned in a bright swimsuit and sheer cover up around her waist. Her husband is quieter, opting for a nod to Miguel, behind you. 

"Can we join you? Hope we aren't interrupting anything."

Miguel meets your eyes. 

"Is it okay?" He says, a thousand words said in your exchange. We don't have to do anything, it's up to you.

"It's fine," You breathe and then louder, to Jess. "It's fine."

He kisses your forehead and squeezes you closer, shifting so you feel his growing length under his shorts. An action that would seem innocent to a passer-by but below the surface… 

He starts off slow, imperceptible movements as he strokes your clit. It makes you impatient, irritated that he had the audacity to start something he couldn't finish. Or, wouldn't, rather. You make lazy conversation with Jess and her husband; innocuous little things that barely take your mind off of Miguel behind you. 

Some time goes by, and he's somewhat conservative – hand pressed against your pussy like his fingers were made for you. You get used to the pressure, as Jess talks about her day.

"...they're having a sale, as well! We're gonna go back there tomorrow, because, God, there were these earrings that I couldn't take my eyes off of, real gold, and only-" 

"Fuck!" He slips two fingers in, without warning, sinking to the knuckle as your little hole adjusts. Jess pauses, a little confused. 

"I was just…" He scissors them ever so slightly, enjoying watching you squirm. "...t-thinking about how great that deal was. Like… fuck! Real gold!" 

Internally, you wince, hoping she buys it. Jess isn't stupid, but you don't think she knows you well enough to notice your husband fingering you in a hot tub. You hope. 

"Right." She gives you the benefit of the doubt. "Not gold-plated, real gold."

You nod, hoping the foam from the jets is hiding the way you rock into Miguels' fingers. They feel good, curling up into you at that spongy spot he knows too well. 

"There's a good food spot, by the boardwalk. I think they do…" She turns to her husband, who has an arm draped around her. 

"Pasta, baby."

"Pasta! Yes, of course. We had a gorgeous meal and they served mussels, with the dish you were on about, before."

A beat. And then another. There’s a pregnant pause, before Miguel nudges you gently. "Yeah, sorry. It was the… garlick-y… one that had, um…"

You can't concentrate, against his wide torso, his hands between your legs: your brain goes fuzzy. You catch a smile tugging at his lips; and you almost scream. It's cruel, and all he can do is laugh. 

"Miguel's more interested in that stuff, m'afraid." You give her a weak smile, and Miguel rewards you with a thumb to your clit. 

It takes you everything not to jump at the pleasure that rocks your core; and you clamp a hand to his thigh. You make eye contact and he smiles; the smug fuck; gently chattering on with Jess about your trip to a local market, the other day. He's as casual as can be, and seemingly unaffected. 

You try your hardest to nod and smile where necessary; giving simple answers that wouldn't require much thought. In the cool night air, the conversation is pleasant enough, but your husband insists on stretching out your orgasm – watching for the tell-tale signs and pulling away. It's a game of cat and mouse; and whilst you just want to get off, Miguel takes pleasure in the chase. 

"We should be heading off, I think." Jess says after a while. "Just wanted to catch up with you two."

Miguel smiles, dizzying and innocuous. "We're happy to, Jess."

They slip out with a splash, and she nods towards you. "You ok, sweetheart? You just seem a bit out of it, today."

Perhaps too hastily, you nod. "I think…I t-think it was something I ate."

"Oh." She looks a little worried, and it makes you feel guilty. "You get better then. I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jess." And with that, they make their way out. 

Once out of sight, Miguel speeds up, his other hand on your thigh to wrench your legs open. The speed makes you dizzy, melting with your head back on his shoulder and desperately humping his hand for some relief. The rock and slosh of water over tiles barely registers in your fog. 

As you moan and writhe, he whispers filth into your ear. 

"Quieter, cariño. What if someone hears?" You whine and all he does is chuckle, lowly. "What if they find you, spread on my lap, fucking yourself on my fingers?" 

"You're being mean."

"Eso no es justo, amor." He titters, shaking his head. "You told me to relax, no? This is how I want to relax." 

Tears prick at your eyes, as he uses his other hand to rub circles into your clit, the warm froth washes over you both, but all you can feel is him. 

"¿Dime que quieres, hermosa?" What do you want?

"M'close, Miguel." You bite down another moan. “I’m ready.”

"Want to feel it, baby. Cum for me."

You tilt your head to the side, and he captures your lips with his own – in awe as you clamp around his fingers. Grinding down on his crotch, you ride out your orgasm. The way he makes you feel is hot, and wet and filthy. 

When your shaking legs still, you turn around to face him. He's hard, and too much of a gentleman to take his own pleasure. You slip a hand into his shorts, hand hot against his cock. It's his turn to lean into the bliss: head back and lips slightly parted with pleasure. 

You've always liked his lips, plump and kissable, a pretty pink that just fits against yours. 

"You're teasing." He hisses softly. 

You scrape your nails along his chest, and he keens, clutching your hand close to his heart. 

"...and what exactly have you been doing all night?“ You make a tight ring with your fingers, squeezing his tip and his hips jump up. 

"Vale, vale, vaaale…." He paws at you waist, a little desperate. "Fuck- I get it."

You give him a kiss, wet and needy, before slipping the gusset of your bikini to the side and sinking down on his length. He cries out and you swallow it, pressing yourself even closer to him. With your tits against his chest like that, he can't think straight. You shift against his length, finding a steady rhythm but it's too slow – and Miguel grows impatient. With a growl, he places both hands on your hips, forcing you downwards as you writhe on his length. 

"Dámelo, dámelo…" He slams his cock into you - hard and fast and just the way you like it. "Just like that, baby, just like-" 

That growing coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you clamp around him. But he doesn't stop, just fucks you through it until he cums, hot and sticky fluids spilling into you. Panting, you capture him into a kiss. You separate, and he's got a dopey smile on his face. 

Content. Relaxed, even. 

~~~

Jess calls you the morning after, and you answer. 

"Hey, everything ok?" You yawn into the receiver, a little tired from last night's activities.

"I said I would call, didn't I?" 

You hum. "...suppose you did."

"You feeling better now Miguel's not playing with your pussy in a hot tub?" 

Shit. You almost drop the phone. "Jesus, we didn't-" 

"Save. It." She grumbles something you can't quite hear; something you suspect you're better off not hearing, anyways. 

"...Sorry. We weren't really thinking."

"Damn straight." She pauses. "I'm not mad, sweetheart. Can’t even judge you, to be honest. As I always say, it's not a real vacation until you fuck your husband somewhere you shouldn't-" 

"Gross, Jess."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did the woman who got fingered in a hot tub just say something??" 

You wince at the vulgarity of her words. 

"....Ouch." 

She laughs into the speakerphone, and you join her. Besides you, Miguel stirs, a little smile on his face. Half asleep, he thinks he’s heard an angel, voice light and airy in the space of your hotel room.

_

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @tea-earl-grey-thot

[d-z20]

After Hours (NSFW)

Pairing: Jennifer Barkley x Reader

Summary: After a long, draining day, Jen Barkley is left feeling unusually exhausted, but a quiet night at home provides the perfect opportunity for you to step in and offer some much-needed relief.

- OR -

You give her a massage as an excuse to undress her, which leads to you fucking her, which results in her fucking you.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, switch Jen, switch reader, spitting, alcohol, fingering (both recv), oral (J recv), passing mention of overstimulation

Words: 2.1k

A/N: Writing for a new character so I decided to switch up my style a bit and write in the past tense, I usually do present tense for reader insert because I like to imagine it's happening as I write but that's just me 🤷. Read the request

AO3 | Masterlist

The hum of the city’s nightlife filtered through the open windows of Jen Barkley’s lavish home, the faint glow of lights casting restless patterns on the walls. Jen was perched on the edge of her couch, legs crossed, a glass of wine dangling loosely in one hand. Her phone buzzed relentlessly on the coffee table, but for once, she ignored it, staring at the floor as though the weight of the day had finally caught up to her.

You watched her from the doorway, noting the tight line of her shoulders and the way her usually sharp eyes seemed dulled. “Tough day?” you asked softly, stepping into the room.

“Darling, if it were just tough, I’d be fine,” she quipped, but there was no spark behind her words. She glanced at you, her lips curving into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "It’s been a soul-sucker," she sighed before rolling her shoulders and giving you a grin. "But I suppose if I drink enough of that wine, I’ll forget all about it.”

“Maybe you should let me help,” you said, crossing to her and plucking the wine glass from her hand. She arched a brow but didn’t protest as you set it aside. “Come on.”

She let you pull her to her feet, following as you led her to the bedroom. The city’s glow seeped through the curtains, painting the room in a soft haze of blues and golds. Jen sank onto the edge of the bed, watching you with a mixture of curiosity and exhaustion.

“What exactly are you up to?” she asked, her voice low, tinged with amusement.

“Just relax,” you murmured, slotting in behind her. Your hands slid onto her shoulders, firm but gentle as you began to work at the knots you could feel beneath the fabric of her blouse. She tensed at first, but as your thumbs pressed into a particularly tight spot, a soft sigh escaped her lips.

“You might be onto something,” she admitted, her head falling forward slightly. “Keep going.”

You smiled, your hands moving with more confidence now, tracing the elegant line of her neck and shoulders, then down her back. Her breaths grew slower, deeper, each exhale a release of tension. When your hands slid under her blouse, she didn’t stop you, leaning into your touch instead.

“Jen,” you hummed, leaning closer, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Her laugh was low and rich, and when she tilted her head back to look at you, the spark you’d been missing was there, burning bright. “Alright, sweetheart, I’ll bite. Show me what you’ve got.”

Your response was a teasing smile as you slid her blouse off her shoulders, revealing the smooth skin beneath. Her hands caught your waist, pulling you closer as she shifted to face you fully. The air between you grew charged, her gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

Her lips met yours in a kiss that was anything but tentative. It was demanding and consuming, her fingers curling into your top as though she couldn’t pull you close enough. You matched her fervour, your hands tangling in her hair, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as the kiss deepened.

Jen’s hands moved with purpose, sliding under your top and tracing the contours of your waist and back, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. She tugged the fabric upward, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over your head before claiming your lips again. Her touch was everywhere, her movements precise yet passionate, leaving no doubt about who was in control.

But you weren’t about to let her dominate entirely. Your hands found the clasp of her bra, unhooking it with practiced ease and sliding the straps down her arms. She let out a soft hum of approval, her lips curving into a smirk against your mouth.

“Impressive,” she sighed, her voice husky. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Just waiting for the right moment,” you retort, your lips trailing down her jaw to the delicate curve of her neck. She tilted her head back, giving you access, her breath hitching as your teeth grazed her skin.

Jen’s hands guided you onto the bed, her body pressing against yours, every movement deliberate and intoxicating. With a slow, knowing smirk, she reached for the waistband of her pants, undoing them with practiced ease before sliding them down her legs and kicking them off. You barely had a second to admire the view before she turned her attention to you, her hands skating over your bare torso before dipping lower.

"You're a little overdressed, sweetheart," she mused, hooking her fingers into the waistband of your bottoms and tugging them down in one smooth motion. A pleased hum escaped her lips as she took you in, her gaze raking over every inch of newly exposed skin.

Now, with nothing between you, the heat built rapidly—each touch, each kiss, each whispered word fanning the flames. Your fingers slid along her inner thigh, testing her resolve until she let out a soft growl of frustration.

“You’re such a tease,” she muttered, her nails digging lightly into your hips.

“You love it,” you shot back, your voice breathless. When your lips moved down her body, your tongue tracing over her skin, the tension in her melted into a series of gasps and quiet moans that made you ache with need.

And then she grabbed your hair, pulling your head up so your eyes locked with hers. That spark was back, blazing now. “You’ve got fifteen minutes before I take over,” she said, her tone a challenge, her lips curling into a wicked smirk.

You hesitated only for a fraction of a second before a slow grin spread across your lips. If Jen thought she was setting the terms, she had another thing coming. You were determined to unravel her completely, to leave her too blissed-out to even think about reclaiming control. Your hand crept down between her thighs, fingertips teasing, and the damp heat you found there sent a thrill through you. She was already so worked up, her breath catching as you traced over her centre with slow, torturous precision.

Your fingers circled her clit, barely there at first, just enough to make her hips twitch. A soft, impatient whimper slipped from her lips, her grip on your hair tightening. Emboldened, you pressed more firmly, revelling in the way her body responded to you. Then, without warning, you slid down between her thighs, replacing your fingers with the hot press of your tongue, dragging slow, deliberate circles over her sensitive bundle of nerves. The sharp gasp she let out sent a pulse of satisfaction straight through you.

Her thighs trembled around your head as you worked her with practiced ease, the rhythm of your tongue relentless, coaxing her closer and closer to the edge. When you finally slipped two fingers inside her, curling just right, her head fell back against the pillows, her mouth falling open in a breathless moan. You could feel her body tightening, could hear the desperate way she gasped your name, and you knew she was getting close.

Gathering her slick arousal, you pulled back just enough to let it collect on your tongue before spitting it back down onto her pussy, the wet sound echoing through the room. The sudden sensation made Jen moan loudly, her hips jerking as you kept your fingers pumping inside her, pressing in a way that made her body clench around you.

Then you sealed your lips around her clit, sucking hard while flicking your tongue rapidly against the swollen bundle of nerves. Jen’s breath hitched, her grip tightening in your hair as her body locked up for a single, agonising second—then she shattered. A sharp cry left her lips as pleasure tore through her, her thighs squeezing around your head and shoulders as wave after wave of release crashed over her. She shivered, her chest rising sharply as her smirk widened, her fingers still tangled in your hair, holding you exactly where she wanted you.

“You’re eager. I like that,” she purred, pulling you back up for a kiss that was anything but gentle. 

You barely had time to catch your breath before she was on you again, her lips devouring yours with renewed hunger. You gasped against her mouth, shocked at how quickly she had recovered, the previous haze of pleasure doing nothing to slow her down. 

She smirked knowingly, as if reading your thoughts. "Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice dripping with amusement. “I always know what’s coming. That’s why I’m always two steps ahead.”

Her teeth caught your bottom lip, sharp but not cruel, sending a pulse of heat straight through you. Her hands moved with practiced ease, tracing down your body, guiding you with a mixture of firm control and teasing restraint. Whatever dominance you had held moments ago was completely gone—Jen had reclaimed it, and she wielded it effortlessly.

She pushed you back onto the sheets, her fingers trailing between your thighs, finding you soaked and needy. Her laugh was low, indulgent. “So worked up already just from fucking me?” she mused before running two fingers through your slick folds, gathering the evidence of your arousal. Without breaking eye contact, she pulled her hand back and let a slow string of spit drip down between your legs, mixing with the wetness there before spreading it with deliberate, torturous strokes. The sensation made your entire body jolt, a whimper escaping your lips.

“You like that?” she taunted, circling your bud with slow, lazy movements that only made the ache grow worse. “You’re lucky you put me in a good mood.” And then her pace changed—two fingers pushed into you in one fluid motion, curling expertly, her thumb pressing against your clit just right. Her movements were unrelenting and precise, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Let’s go, darling—I don’t have all night.,” she commanded, her voice velvety and firm, sending a shiver down your spine. Her lips trailed hotly along your throat before she bit down lightly at the curve of your shoulder. The sharp contrast of her teeth against your sensitive skin only heightened the pleasure, making your entire body tense beneath her, a guttural moan sounding from the back of your throat.

Her fingers never faltered, pressing deep inside you, dragging you mercilessly toward the edge. Every stroke sent another wave of pleasure rolling through you, your thighs trembling as the tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core. Your breath hitched, a desperate whimper escaping your lips as she sped up.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” She teased, her voice thick with satisfaction, like she was savouring every second. “Come on, sweetheart. Let me feel it.”

The pressure built like a tidal wave, your entire body tightening as if bracing for impact. Every touch, every flick of her wrist, every teasing whisper sent you spiralling closer. And then—

It broke.

Pleasure crashed over you, slamming through your body like a dam bursting, leaving you quivering beneath her. A strangled moan tore from your throat as your hips bucked into her touch, your fingers grasping at the sheets, at her, at anything to ground yourself. Jen didn’t stop—not yet at least. She worked you through your orgasm, drawing out every last aftershock until you were utterly spent, your body shuddering with overstimulation.

Only then did she ease up, a satisfied smirk on her lips as she watched you try to catch your breath. Her hands, once commanding and relentless, softened as she traced lazy patterns across your skin; her touch now featherlight. She pressed a slow, lingering kiss just above your navel, then another just below your ribs, her lips trailing a path up your stomach, over your collarbone, along the line of your jaw, until finally, she captured your lips in a kiss that was almost unbearably tender.

When she finally collapsed beside you, her chest rising and falling in time with yours, the tension that had gripped her earlier was gone, replaced by a languid satisfaction.

“You,” she said, her voice laced with amusement, “are a very dangerous distraction.”

“You needed it,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Jen’s lips curved into a lazy smile. “Don’t think this means you’re off the hook,” she murmured. “I’ll expect a repeat performance.”

You laughed softly. “Anytime, Jen.”

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don't worry guys I didn't forget I'm supposed to write fics and not just post about how much I find older women attractive :P

I kept forgetting this was a Jen fic and not an Agatha fic 😭😭

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taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @lostbutlovely33

[margeoww]

Under the Stars

back to my main masterlist

pairing: lewis hamilton x gf!reader

summary: after a successful race weekend, you and Lewis Hamilton share a quiet, intimate dinner away from the chaos. In each other’s company, everything feels perfect—just the two of you, the soft glow of candles, and the unspoken connection that has only grown stronger over time.

warnings: romance, suggestive content, established relationship

The night had fallen over the city, the stars glimmering above as the world seemed to settle into a peaceful silence. The weekend had been filled with the intensity of racing, but now, it was just you and him. After all the excitement, all the crowds, the media, and the chaos, this moment felt like a breath of fresh air.

You sat at the restaurant table, watching as Lewis, already dressed in a sleek, dark suit, adjusted the collar of his shirt. His signature charm was evident even in these quieter moments. His easy smile, the glint of mischief in his eyes, and that unmistakable presence that could never be ignored. But tonight, it wasn’t about the champion sitting in front of you. It was just him. Lewis. The man you had come to know and love.

He caught your gaze and grinned. —You look beautiful, as always. —he said, his voice low, warm, and filled with affection.

You smiled back, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest. You had been together for some time now, and yet, every time he looked at you like that, it still made your heart race. —Thank you. —you replied, reaching for your wine glass.

—You’ve made this weekend worth it. —he continued, his tone playful but sincere. —And after all the stress, I’m just happy to be here with you.

—You’ve had a hell of a week. You deserve a break. —you replied, your eyes softening. You had seen the weight of the weekend on his shoulders, the pressure of it all, but now, the world was quiet. It was just the two of you, alone in the calm.

Dinner arrived, and the two of you spoke about everything and nothing. Conversations flowed with ease, about past races, future plans, silly inside jokes, and dreams for the future. The atmosphere around you was intimate, just as it had been from the moment you first met. Every touch, every glance, felt natural, like no one else in the world mattered.

The night seemed to stretch on forever in the best way possible.

As the main course was cleared and dessert arrived, Lewis shifted in his seat, his eyes never leaving you. His hand found yours across the table, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. His touch was familiar, comforting, and the connection between you both seemed to spark with every soft brush of his skin against yours.

—Is it just me… —he said softly, —or has this been the perfect night?

You chuckled, looking down at your entwined hands before meeting his gaze. —It’s perfect. Because it’s with you.

Lewis leaned closer, his free hand reaching up to caress your face, his thumb lightly tracing your cheekbone. His touch was tender, as if he was savoring the moment. —I love this. —he murmured. —Just you and me, no distractions. No one else around.

Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity in his voice. You had always loved how he could shift from playful and teasing to deeply sincere in the blink of an eye. Tonight, though, you could tell he was feeling something more. Something deeper.

—You’re my home. —you whispered, your voice just above a breath. The words were simple, but they feel like everything.

He smiled softly, his lips curving up in that way you loved. —And you’re mine.

Lewis’s gaze dropped to your lips, and you felt the heat of his gaze like a physical pull. He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull back if you wanted to, but you didn’t. You never did. The moment his lips met yours, it was like the world around you ceased to exist. There was no racing, no crowds, no interviews. Just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of your connection.

The kiss was soft at first, slow and lingering, a moment of pure intimacy. But as the seconds ticked by, the intensity of it deepened. His hand slid from your face to your neck, pulling you closer, while you reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair. The taste of him, the feel of him against you, made your head spin, and you could feel his heartbeat match yours in the rhythm of the kiss.

He broke away just enough to whisper, his breath warm against your lips. —I want you to know something.

—Anything. —you breathed, your voice thick with desire, but also with a sense of calm. You were safe here.

He looked into your eyes, his own dark and full of emotion. —I need you. More than just these moments. You’re everything to me.

You couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at your lips. —I feel the same way. —you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again.

The night stretched on as you both shared more than just kisses. You shared your thoughts, your feelings, and the quiet kind of love that made you feel as though everything had aligned perfectly. It wasn’t about grand gestures or big words; it was about this, the peace and the quiet, the moments that felt as though they were just for you two, the way the world could fade away when you were together.

By the time the evening came to an end, you both were reluctant to leave. But there was no rush. You knew that this connection, this love, was something that didn’t need to be hurried. It would always be there, just like him.

As you both left the restaurant hand-in-hand, the stars above twinkling like a reflection of your hearts, you knew this was more than just a perfect night. It was a perfect life. A life with him.

[finsplurtz]

Can you do something with Bakugou and rape?

loosen up, yeah? — katsuki.bakugo

— dom ! male.reader x sub ! Katsuki.Bakugo

— contents : drunk sex , non con , you get bakugo drunk n fuck him , this is kinda iffy i’ve never written noncon before oops also rlly short gulp

warnings : R@PE!!! be currrful

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Katsuki Bakugo is insanely pretty. that’s what you first noticed about him when you met him, he had a nice face, beautiful eyes. second thing you noticed was how cold and rude he was to everyone, even his friends, and you were going to be the first person he truly respects.

you got along with all the other people, izuku and shoto, uraraka and tsu, they alll loved having you around and you all had fun when you guys hung out.

then there was bakugo who didn’t give a fuck that you were there, he basically ignored you.

to end the night everyone went out for drinks, one thing you knew about bakugo was that he wasn’t a lightweight, it definitely took a lot to get him drunk.

you sat down next to him at the table and passed him a glass with wine in it.

“drink?” you ask. he hummed before taking the glass and downing the drink. he did this for a couple times throughout the night but then he stopped.

“guys i’ll go get more to drink, you guys still going?” you ask getting out of your seat. all of them were still for drinking and you looked at bakugo who shook his head.

“mh… bakugo help me with the drinks!” you pat his back innocently hoping he would go with you, took a while before he finally gave in with an grunt of annoyance.

“you don’t wanna get wasted tonight bakugo? i mean look at everyone else, they’re already pretty drunk…” you start conversation as you both wait for the drinks to come.

“no i don’t want to wake up with hangover.”

.

.

“cmon, have some fun! drink with us~” you coo. bakugo shoos you away declining your offer. you grab one of the drinks on the counter and firmly grab his jaw, looking down at him.

“just a bit more, kay? loosen up.” you smile as you bring a glass to his mouth and slowly pour it into his mouth, he brought his hand up to stop you but drank the alcohol anyway. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked away.

“there you go, let’s try to have fun tonight!” you grab the rest of the drinks and he follows after.

the whole night you tried to get this blonde as drunk as possible, passing him more drinks, playing drinking games, pouring them down his throat yourself. by the end everyone was on the brink of passing out, bakugo could barely stand without stumbling.

you were a bit dizzy but managed. you sent everyone home safely and kept bakugo with you.

“drank quite a lot, huh bakugo.” you ask the man in your passenger seat who didn’t respond. he noticed you weren’t taking the route to his house and looked at you, you just kept your eyes on the road.

you guys got to your home and you helped him get up and out the car. bakugo was still conscious, aware of his surroundings, you needed him to down just a couple more drinks…

right as he sat on your couch you got some vodka out and placed it in front of him.

“imma throw up…” bakugo said, some hiccups leaving him.

“expensive kind. tastes good” you popped down next to him and poured him a glass anyway. you had to force feed him the drink and he wasn’t really putting up that much of a fight.

he started to blank out and he barely recalls passing out.

.

bakugo groans as he wakes up, hands feeling around at the sheets of the bed he was laying on. he opens his tired eyes and his breathing pace picks up when he sees his legs propped up on your shoulders, your dick already buried deep in his heat.

“w..what..” he has a migraine, you’re grinning devilishly, running your hands all over his thighs.

“morning pretty..” you whisper.

“wha….are…s-stop..” the blonde is about to start freaking out as realization sets in, he’s pulling his legs back and you take the opportunity to push them against him into a mating press, slamming deep into him.

“NOUH..~!” His eyes roll back as your huge length digs deep inside him. Tears begin to fall down his face as more painful moans leave him.

“you look prettier when you cry, baby~” you taunt as you set a pace and keep fucking into him. He’s trying to say something back but he’s speechless, you’re pulling moans out of his like crazy and he’s never felt this good.

his legs are trembling and he’s gasping pathetically, tears blurring his field of vision. you move his legs and start to jerk him off with one of you’re hands, groaning at the feelings of him tightening around you.

“fuh- hm..~ stop…p..lease..” he begs, barely even able to look at you. you’re just going at it faster, watching his tummy bulge at how far in your cock is hitting him.

“just…a second.. haa..” you’re thrusts get wonky and you whine when you finally fill him up with your semen, a cry leaving him.

Nothing but panting could be heard as you both calm down. just as you were pulling out, the blonde gave you a hard kick to the chest. you roll of the bed throwing a coughing fit.

you look back at him with a glare and see him filled with tears of rage. he’s covering his body up and shaking.

“so beautiful..”

a/n: wait ts so buns mb😭😭🙏🏿🙏🏿🙏🏿