#I know I’m SO fuckin late to the party

[crystallizedday]

So uh

I dunno just HOW much this post inspired me

But I remember reading it a while back & being like

“Damn! Bro had so much potential…”

…

& now I have this whole fuckin AU written like 2 full seasons of the og show where I hit this lil shit with the ✨protagonist✨ ray

& bro’s been living in my brain rent free ever since

& I just wanna say

I know it’s probably been like 2 fuckin years or more since ya made this post

But thank you.

The world needed to hear the truth. WKWKSKSOSMSOXKOSMX

It's really a shame they didn't extend Demongo's role in the Samurai Jack series beyond the episode he debuted in. Final season aside, he had the potential to be a great recurring villain in the original series, alongside Aku, for the following reasons:

His powers. Demongo's tactic may be repetitive - expel souls from body, watch souls beat up enemy - but the way in which it is used doesn't have to be. Demongo stated that he had acquired thousands of warrior souls. They could be used as spies, hunters, or a full blown army. But then there's also the psychological aspect - who these souls are to Jack rather than what they physically do to him. What if one of the warrior souls Demongo sent out was Jack's father? Can you imagine how that would fuck Jack up? To know that his father no longer exists in the past he left behind, to fight the man he admired and adored? Demongo could dispense with physically beating him and work to crush his spirit. Demongo is known by the moniker 'Merchant of Doom'. His power physically and mentally breaks people down until they can no longer fight. He exploits a hopeless scenario of his own creation to gain power.

His personality. Demongo is interesting because unlike any other minion of Aku, even Scaramouche to my knowledge, Demongo had private ambitions that went beyond Aku. He rates himself higher than Aku, and states as much when he tells Jack that Jack is "too powerful for my master - but not for me!" He also has an ambition that, if fulfilled, would put him equal to or even above Aku, an ambition that drives him to hunt Jack beyond 'because he told me to'. His desire for Jack's soul is personal as much as it is business, because he believes that taking it will make him "the greatest warrior". This makes Demongo a much more dynamic and flexible character, as his ambitions could cause a direct conflict with his master, and even potentially allow for Jack to make an ally of him, if only to stop Aku, because Aku would be the only other thing standing in the way of Demongo's ultimate goal. He only serves Aku as long as it benefits himself and does not subjugate himself to Aku, at least as far as thoughts go. In his mind, he is the be-all-and-end-all. He's also got a goofy side, and a sense of humour - albeit a dark and twisted one.

His potential for depth/development. This sort of ties in with the second point, but Demongo's personality and quirks lend a lot to his potential future development. He is shown as a being that has become nigh unstoppable, even challenging Jack and putting him in serious peril, because of the souls he has claimed. He defines himself by his ability to take down any foe without even uncrossing his legs. He does not care that Jack takes issue with power gained from using others, he is proud of the method he uses and he uses it how he pleases. Demongo does, however, fear that he is nothing without it. He believes it. The nervous laugh when Jack brings it up, the anguish when all his souls are stripped away, show us a creature that believes using the strength of others is the only way he can live. As a tiny, frail creature, he is helpless and vulnerable to many forces. He may have chosen to follow Aku with the promise of strength. That survival instinct led him to become powerful, but he clearly became addicted to that power over time. It was no longer enough to be enough, he had to be the best. He had to be completely untouchable. Jack saw this clearly. Perhaps his Samurai Wisdom could benefit Demongo, show him that he is wrong to think that way about himself.

tl;dr: Demongo should have been a recurring villain/anti hero and should have been more than just a pointless nostalgia cameo (still salty)

[jupiterpilgrim]

Everything's Ruined

Christmas Special 🎄

Hanni x Male Reader

word count: 10K

The room glows with the warm, soft buzz of Christmas lights tangled messily over the mantle and around the windows. Music hums in the background—a lazy mix of holiday classics and some throwback pop songs someone thought was ironic. You’re sunk deep into the couch, a heavy glass of whiskey and eggnog dangling loose in your hand. It’s late, the party is only half over, but everyone is already wasted, even though they're just chilling now; a handful of half-drunk bodies lounging, half-assedly debating the virtues of Die Hard as a Christmas movie. 

Then there’s Hanni.

She’s curled up next to you, except "curled" isn’t right. She’s draped—like she forgot personal space was a thing about three drinks ago. Her dark hair tumbles over her face as she tips her head back in a laugh that’s way too loud for whatever dumb joke someone just made. Her cheeks are flushed, probably from the wine she’s been inhaling all night, and when she looks at you, her eyes are glassy and warm, like you’re the most hilarious person alive just for existing.

Thing is, Hanni’s your best friend—the one person you're not supposed to have these feelings for, but with the alcohol in your system and the way she’s leaning into you now, all flushed cheeks and that stupid, glassy smile, it’s getting real fucking hard to remember why.

“God, you’re so fuckin' cute,” she slurs, and you blink. She doesn’t seem to notice, just scoots closer, swinging her legs over your lap like she’s staking territory. “You’re my favorite, you know that?”

You snort. “You tell me that every time you’re wasted, Hanni. Get some new material.”

She pouts, sticking out her lip in this over-the-top cartoon way that somehow makes you grin like an idiot. Her weight settles heavier against you, and yeah, you’re feeling that whiskey warmth in your veins too. Her hand wanders—innocently enough at first—over your shoulder, across your chest, then down to rest right at the edge of dangerous territory.

“I’m serious this time, though!” She pokes your chest like she’s trying to prove a point. “You’re the only person who gets me, y’know? Like…fuck, dude, if you weren’t my best friend, I’d probably marry you.”

That pulls a laugh out of you, sharp and incredulous. “Wow, what an honor. Thanks for the consolation prize.” 

Hanni leans forward, her face inches from yours now, her breath sweet with wine and whatever sugary cocktail she’s been nursing all night. “I mean it, asshole. You’re like…everything.” Her voice drops, softer now, and she smirks, but it’s the kind of smirk that’s all affection and none of the usual bite. “You’re my fucking rock.”

You feel something twist low in your gut. “Shit, Hanni, who knew wine turned you into a Hallmark card?” you say, trying to keep it light. 

She bursts into giggles, doubling over, her face pressed to your chest. Her ass shifts on your lap, and you freeze for a second because—fuck—her skirt’s hiked up just enough for you to feel the heat of her through the thin fabric. Hanni doesn’t notice, or maybe she doesn’t care, because she’s too busy tracing lazy patterns over your stomach now, her touch just shy of intimate.

“Y’know what sucks?” she mumbles, tilting her head up to look at you, her hair sticking to her damp forehead. “You’re too good for me. Like, no joke, you should be with someone hot, not stuck babysitting my drunk ass.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying not to focus on the way her thighs are pressing into yours or the flash of bare skin where her sweater’s ridden up. “Who says I’m stuck? Maybe I like babysitting your drunk ass.”

Her face softens in this way that makes your chest feel too tight. She shifts again, pressing closer, her lips brushing the shell of your ear when she whispers, “That’s why I love you.”

It’s teasing, almost playful, but there’s something heavier underneath, something that makes your pulse spike. You’re about to say something—maybe a joke, maybe something stupidly earnest—but then someone across the room yells out, “Alright, last call for shots!” 

Hanni perks up immediately, her attention snapping away from you. “Hell yeah! Let’s fucking go!” she yells, hopping up so fast you almost spill your drink.

As she stumbles off, you exhale, leaning back into the couch, trying to will away the heat simmering low in your stomach. It’s just Hanni, you remind yourself. She gets like this when she’s drunk—touchy, emotional, saying all kinds of shit she won’t even remember tomorrow. But fuck, if she isn’t beautiful, with her tiny frame and those absurdly thick thighs that make no goddamn sense on someone her size. 

You shake your head, draining the rest of your drink. 

—

What began as a quiet night spirals into that perfect mess of booze and laughter, the kind of chaos that only happens when no one’s watching the clock or counting drinks. Someone’s wearing a Santa hat and nothing else but a pair of boxers. Someone else decided the fake Christmas tree would make a great dance partner, and now half the ornaments are shattered on the floor. You and Hanni are still on the couch, her body leaning heavily against yours as you both wheeze-laugh at something dumb on the TV—a claymation Rudolph looking suspiciously baked out of his red-nosed mind.

At some point, Hanni grabs the half-empty bottle of wine from the coffee table and lifts it in a mock toast. “To you, bestie,” she slurs, words spilling out like syrup. “The only motherfucker who didn’t ditch me when I got kicked outta karaoke night last month.”

You roll your eyes, reaching to take the bottle from her before she spills it. “You got kicked out because you tried to sing ‘WAP’ like it was a gospel hymn, Hanni.”

“It was art, you heathen,” she shoots back, but her pout barely lasts before her face splits into a grin. “But seriously. You’re the real MVP.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you say, laughing as you set the bottle safely aside. “But thanks, I guess.”

Time keeps sliding, blurring at the edges. Someone takes an Uber home. Someone else starts snoring under the coffee table. By the time you look around again, the room’s mostly empty. It’s just you, Hanni, and the sound of some low-budget Christmas movie droning in the background. Hanni’s slumped sideways against you, her head resting on your shoulder. Her breath is soft, wine-sweet and warm, and when you shift slightly, she groans.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” she mumbles, voice thick with the haze of too much alcohol. Her hand tightens on your arm like a sleepy cat staking its claim.

“Nah, I’m good,” you say, but the sight of her like this—soft and unguarded—makes something in your chest clench. “You, on the other hand, can’t even sit up straight. You’re not going anywhere.”

She blinks up at you, her eyes unfocused but shining, like she’s trying to process your words. “So what? I just crash here?”

“No,” you say, patting her leg. “My place is closer, and I don’t trust you not to wander into traffic if I send you home.”

She snorts, the sound loud and ungraceful. “Aw, look at you, being all responsible and shit. You’re such a dad sometimes.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you mutter, but there’s no heat behind it. “C’mon, let’s get you sorted.”

You help her to her feet, and she wobbles, gripping your arm like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. After saying goodbye to your friends, somehow, you manage to guide her the short distance to your apartment, both of you giggling like idiots the whole way. By the time you’re inside, her sweater’s sliding off one shoulder, and her hair’s a mess, but she looks at you with this sleepy grin that makes your head swim worse than the booze.

You sit her down on the couch, and she flops back like she’s about to take a nap right then and there. “God, your couch is so comfy,” she murmurs, kicking off her shoes.

“It’s a couch, Hanni, not a five-star hotel,” you say, but you’re smiling anyway as you sit down next to her.

For a while, it’s quiet. The kind of quiet that comes when the party’s over, and the city outside is muted under the weight of night. Hanni shifts closer, curling her legs under her, her knee brushing yours. She looks at you, and there’s something in her gaze now—not just the drunken haze, but something deeper. Something you’ve been trying not to notice all night.

“I meant what I said earlier,” she says, her voice soft but steady. 

You frown. “What? That I’m cute?”

She nods, biting her lip like she’s bracing for impact. “Yeah. That. And the part about loving you.”

Your chest tightens, and you let out a short, breathless laugh, trying to break the tension. “Hanni, you’re drunk. You’re gonna forget this by tomorrow morning.”

“Fuck that,” she says, sitting up straighter now, her face inches from yours. “You think I don’t know how I feel? You’re my best friend, yeah, but also…you’re more. You’ve always been more.”

Her words hang there, heavy and undeniable. Your pulse thrums in your ears as she leans in, her lips brushing yours, tentative at first. Then it deepens, and all the air seems to vanish from the room. Her hands slide up your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair, and before you can think, you’re kissing her back, your hands gripping her waist like she’s the only thing keeping you anchored.

When you finally break apart, her lips are swollen, her breath hitching as she looks at you like you’ve just answered a question she’s been too afraid to ask.

“This is so fucking stupid,” you whisper, but you’re already leaning in again, your lips finding hers as the tension between you snaps like a live wire. She climbs onto your lap, her thighs pressing against you, and you don’t even care that you’re both still drunk. The couch groans under your combined weight, but neither of you notice, too caught up in the heat of the moment.

“We should—bed—” you manage to mumble between kisses, and she nods, her lips trailing down your jaw.

Somehow, you make it to the bedroom, the clothes leaving a haphazard trail in the hallway and inside your room. By the time you hit the mattress, both already naked, it’s not just excitement buzzing through you—it’s the quiet, electric realization that this is happening, and there’s no turning back.

The bed creaks beneath you both, the springs protesting as Hanni sprawls out on her back, looking up at you with a mix of hazy confidence and nervous vulnerability. Her cheeks are flushed, hair a wild mess against your pillow, and she’s biting her lip so hard you’re half afraid she’ll draw blood. You hover over her, your hands on either side of her, just taking her in for a moment. This is Hanni—your best friend, your partner in crime—and right now, she looks like a fucking dream, her legs parted slightly, the curve of her hips begging for attention.

“You’re staring,” she says, voice low but teasing, and she reaches up, cupping your jaw with one hand. Her fingers are warm, soft, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “I know I’m hot, but damn.”

You laugh, short and breathless, shaking your head. “Fuck off, Hanni. You’re not gonna ruin this by talking shit.”

“Oh, I’m totally gonna talk shit,” she replies, her grin sharp but faltering slightly when you dip your head, pressing your lips to hers again. The kiss is slower this time, deeper, and when you nip at her bottom lip, she gasps into your mouth, her hips shifting beneath you.

Your hand finds her side. Her skin’s soft and warm, and when your palm grazes the swell of her breast, she lets out this soft, needy sound that goes straight to your cock

“God, you’re so fucking impatient,” you murmur against her lips, but your tone’s more affectionate than mocking. Your hand slides down, over her tummy, then you pause, your fingers resting just above where you know she’s burning for you.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. Her eyes lock on yours, and for a moment, you think she’s gonna back out, but then she smirks. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

“Well, now I have to,” you say, rubbing your fingers on her mon pubis.

“Asshole,” she breathes, but her words catch in her throat when your fingers find her slick folds. She’s soaked, and the realization sends a rush of heat through you. “Oh, fuck—”

“Shit, Hanni,” you say, your voice rough with a mix of awe and lust. “You’re fucking dripping.”

Her laugh is shaky, more like a breathy moan. “Yeah, well…you’re taking your sweet ass time about it.”

“Patience is a virtue,” you reply, but your fingers are already sliding lower, brushing over her clit. The reaction is immediate—her body jerks, her hips pressing up into your hand as a strangled moan escapes her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” she chants, her words tumbling out as your fingers circle her clit, slow and deliberate. “Just like that—oh, god, yeah, like th—oh fuck!”

Her voice cuts off as you slide one finger into her, her walls clenching around you like a vice. You add another finger, curling them slightly, and the noise she makes is obscene—half a gasp, half a moan, her head tipping back against the pillow.

“You’re so fucking tight,” you say, your voice low and rough. “How the fuck are you this tight?”

“Shut up,” she groans, but there’s no real bite to her words. Her hands grip the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping her grounded as you start moving, your fingers pumping into her at a steady rhythm.

Her hips roll against your hand, desperate and needy, and when your thumb brushes her clit again, she practically cries out. “Oh my god—yes—just like that—fuck!”

“Yeah?” you ask, grinning as you lean down, your lips grazing her ear. “You like that, Hanni? You like the way I’m fucking you with my fingers?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—” she gasps, her voice breaking as her body arches off the bed. “Don’t stop—don’t you fucking dare—”

Her words dissolve into moans as you pick up the pace, your fingers fucking her harder, faster. You can feel her tightening around you, her breath hitching, her entire body trembling as she teeters on the edge.

“Come on, Hanni,” you murmur, your lips brushing her temple. “Let go for me. I wanna feel you cum all over my fingers.”

Her response is incoherent—a garbled mix of your name and curses—but then she’s coming apart, her back arching, her thighs trembling as her pussy clenches around your fingers. Her moan is long and guttural, her hands flying to your shoulders as she rides out the waves of her orgasm.

“Fuck—fuck, oh my god—” she pants, her chest heaving as she comes down, her body still shivering under your touch. You don’t stop, not yet, your fingers slowing but staying inside her, coaxing out every last aftershock.

When you finally pull your hand away, her eyes flutter open, and she looks at you with a dazed, fucked-out expression that makes your chest tighten.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, her voice shaky. “That was…”

You smirk, leaning down to kiss her, your lips brushing hers lightly. “We’re not done yet.”

Before she can respond, you slide down the bed, positioning yourself between her legs. You press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, your hands spreading her open, and she gasps, her hands flying to your hair as your tongue flicks over her sensitive clit, licking through the mess she’s left behind—sweet, sticky, and fucking intoxicating. Hanni’s trembling beneath you, her thighs twitching every time your tongue grazes her clit. Her fingers are tangled in your hair, tugging just hard enough to sting, and you can’t tell if she’s trying to push you away or keep you there forever.

“Jesus fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” she gasps, her voice breathy and half-wrecked, like she’s been screaming at a concert all night. “I’m—oh god—s-sensitive—”

You pull back slightly, grinning against her skin. “Yeah? Sensitive, huh? You’re the one who keeps pulling me closer.”

“Shut up,” she snaps, but her words falter when you press your tongue flat against her, slow and wet, dragging it from her entrance to her clit. Her body jolts, a sharp inhale cutting her off. “Oh fuck—stop talking and just—”

“What? Just this?” you interrupt, sucking her clit into your mouth, your fingers digging into her thighs to keep her in place when she tries to squirm away. Her reaction is immediate—her back arches off the mattress, her head tossing back against the pillow.

“FUCK—yes, like that—oh my god, just like that—” she chokes out, her voice rising and falling with every flick of your tongue.

You pull back just enough to murmur, “You taste so fucking good, Hanni. I could eat you all night.”

She groans, throwing an arm over her face, her voice a mix of exasperation and raw need. “You’re such a goddamn showoff.”

“And you love it,” you reply, sliding your tongue back inside her, savoring the way she clenches around it. The cream left behind from her last orgasm coats your lips, and you lap at it like a man starving, dragging out every broken moan she gives you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she stammers, her hands gripping your hair like a lifeline. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna—”

You pull back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, grinning up at her. “Gonna what? Cum again? Already?”

Her glare is half-hearted, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re dripping,” you shoot back, crawling up her body until your face is hovering over hers. You kiss her, slow and dirty, letting her taste herself on your lips. When you pull back, her eyes flicker down between your bodies, and her breath hitches.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, and you follow her gaze to where your cock is pressed against her stomach, hard and heavy. “That’s…uh…”

“What?” you ask, smirking. “Bigger than you expected?”

She bites her lip, her cheeks flushing as her eyes dart back to your face. “I mean—yeah, kinda.”

You laugh, the sound low and rough as you reach down, guiding her onto her hands and knees. “Don’t worry. You’ll take it.”

She lets out a nervous laugh, glancing over her shoulder at you as you position yourself behind her. “Confident much?”

“You’ll see,” you say, running the head of your cock along her folds, teasing her just enough to make her hips jerk back toward you. “Fuck, Hanni, you’re so wet. You’re gonna take me so good.”

Her response is a shaky moan, her hands gripping the sheets as you push inside her, slow and steady. The stretch is immediate, her body tightening around you like a vice, and you grit your teeth, fighting to keep control.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, her voice high and breathless. “Oh fuck—you’re—fuck, you’re huge—”

“Yeah?” you say, gripping her hips as you sink deeper, inch by inch. “You like it, don’t you?”

“Fuck, yes—don’t stop—” she groans, her head dropping forward as you bottom out, your hips flush against her ass. You stay still for a moment, letting her adjust, your hands smoothing over her waist, her back, the curve of her ass.

“You look so fucking good like this,” you murmur, giving her ass a firm squeeze. “All spread out for me.”

She lets out a soft laugh, glancing back at you with a dazed smirk. “You’re so full of yourself.”

You don’t bother replying, instead pulling back and snapping your hips forward, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. Her gasp turns into a cry, her body rocking forward with the force of your thrust.

“Fuck—yes, just like that—” she moans, her voice muffled as her face presses into the pillow. You pick up the pace, your grip on her hips tightening as you fuck her harder, each thrust sending shockwaves through both of you.

You raise one hand, bringing it down on her ass with a sharp slap. The sound echoes in the room, and she cries out, her walls tightening around you. “Shit—you like that?” you ask, spanking her again, harder this time.

“Fuck—yes—do it again—” she pants, her voice ragged. You oblige, your hand coming down on her ass until it’s red and warm under your palm. She’s a mess beneath you, moaning and writhing, her body arching every time you spank her.

Your grip tightens on Hanni’s hips as you feel her starting to unravel. Her moans spill out in frantic, breathy bursts, her voice trembling under the pressure of everything building inside her. She’s trying to keep her balance, her arms shaking as she holds herself up, but you’re not making it easy. Every thrust has her lurching forward, her ass bouncing back to meet you, her body completely giving in to the rhythm you’ve set.

“Shit—fuck—oh my god, I’m so close,” she stammers, her voice climbing higher, more desperate with every word. Her hands claw at the sheets, bunching the fabric into her fists as you slam into her again, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room.

“Come on, Hanni,” you growl, your breath hot against the sweat-slicked curve of her back. Your hand dips between her legs, fingers finding her clit and circling it in sync with your thrusts. “I can feel it. You’re right there, aren’t you?”

“Yes—oh god, yes,” she cries out, her voice cracking as her hips buck against your hand. “Don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—”

You don’t. You keep your pace steady, unrelenting, the wet sounds of her slick pussy growing louder, more obscene, until finally, she snaps. Her whole body locks up, her head tossing back as a scream tears out of her throat, raw and broken. 

“Oh fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck—” she chants, her thighs trembling violently as her orgasm rips through her, wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure. Her walls clench around you like a vice, trying to pull you deeper, but you hold still, grinding into her just enough to prolong her high. Her moans turn into whimpers, then gasps, her body sagging forward as she rides out the aftershocks.

When she finally collapses, her chest heaving against the mattress, you can’t help but grin. “Oh Hanni,” you murmur, sliding out of her slowly, your cock still hard and aching, slick with her arousal. “You looked so fucking good just now.”

She turns her head, her hair sticking to her flushed, sweaty face as she glares at you halfheartedly. “Shut up,” she mutters, but her voice is shaky, her body still twitching with the remnants of her orgasm.

“Nah, I mean it,” you say, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of her neck, tasting the salt of her skin. “You’re fucking perfect like this.”

Her response is a muffled groan into the pillow, and you laugh, flipping her onto her back before she can complain. Her legs fall open instinctively, and the sight of her laid out beneath you—skin flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly—makes your cock twitch.

“I’m not done with you yet,” you murmur, positioning yourself between her legs. Your hands slide up her thighs, pushing them further apart as you line yourself up with her entrance. She looks up at you, her lips parted, her eyes hazy but full of something that goes deeper than just lust.

“God, you’re so fucking cheesy,” she whispers, but there’s no bite to her words. If anything, she looks…soft. Open. Like she’s waiting for something only you can give her.

You push into her slowly, watching her face as you fill her inch by inch. Her lips fall open, a soft gasp escaping her as her body stretches to accommodate you. “Oh fuck,” she breathes, her hands coming up to clutch at your shoulders. “Oh my god, you’re—fuck, you’re so deep—”

“Yeah?” you ask, your voice rough as you bottom out, your hips flush against hers. “Feel good?”

“Fuck yes,” she moans, wrapping her legs around your waist to pull you closer. “God, you feel so fucking good—”

You start moving, your thrusts slow and deliberate, dragging your cock out almost all the way before slamming back into her. Her head tips back, her nails digging into your shoulders as she moans unabashedly, her voice filling the room. “Yes—fuck, just like that—”

You lean down, bracing yourself on your forearms so you’re hovering over her. Your lips find hers, swallowing her cries as you pick up the pace, your hips snapping against hers harder, faster. She breaks the kiss first, gasping for air, her hands sliding into your hair to tug you closer.

“I love you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of your bodies colliding. Her eyes meet yours, wide and shining, and the vulnerability in her expression makes your cock throbs. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

You freeze for a second, but the way she’s looking at you—like you’re the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth—it's enough to drive you crazy. “Hanni,” you murmur, your voice breaking as you start moving again, slower this time, each thrust deep and deliberate. “Fuck, I love you too.”

Her breath hitches, and she pulls you down into another kiss, her legs tightening around you as if she’s trying to fuse your bodies together. “Don’t stop,” she whispers against your lips. “Don’t ever stop.”

"I won't," you groan, your cock throbbing inside her tight, wet pussy as you grind deep. Her walls flutter around you with each slow, deliberate thrust, and you can feel how close she is to cumming. You press your forehead against hers, maintaining eye contact as you fuck her with long, measured strokes.

"You feel so good wrapped around my cock," you tell her, your voice rough with emotion. "So fucking perfect, Hanni. Love how wet you get for me."

She whimpers, her nails digging into your shoulders as her hips buck up to meet yours. "Only for you," she gasps. "Nobody's ever made me this wet before."

The admission makes your cock twitch, and you reward her with a particularly deep thrust that has her crying out. "Yeah? Tell me more, baby. Tell me how good I make you feel."

"So good," she moans, her pussy clenching around you. "Your cock fills me up perfectly. Feels like you were made for me."

You kiss her hard, swallowing her moans as you pick up the pace slightly. Your tongue slides against hers as you fuck her deeper, harder, but still maintaining that intimate connection. Her tits press against your chest with each thrust, her hard nipples dragging against your skin.

"Love these perfect tits," you growl, breaking the kiss to trail your lips down her neck. You suck hard enough to leave marks, wanting everyone to know she's yours. "I love how they bounce while I fuck you, how they get so hard for me."

Hanni arches her back, pressing her chest more firmly against you. "Please," she whimpers. "Touch them, suck on them, anything!"

You shift your weight to one arm so you can cup one of her tits, rolling the nipple between your fingers as you continue to thrust. "Like this, baby? Like having your tits played with while I fuck your tight little pussy?"

"Yes!" she cries out, her walls clamping down around you. "Fuck, I'm getting close!"

"That's it," you encourage her, lowering your head to take her other nipple into your mouth. You suck hard while still pinching and rolling the other one, your cock never stopping its steady rhythm inside her. "Want to feel you cum all over my cock. Want to feel how tight that pussy gets when you lose control."

Her hands slide into your hair, holding you against her breast as you continue to suck and nibble at her sensitive flesh. "Oh god, oh fuck," she pants, her thighs trembling where they're wrapped around your waist. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

You release her nipple with a wet pop, looking up to meet her eyes again. "Never stopping, baby. Gonna keep fucking this sweet pussy until you can't take it anymore." You punctuate your words with a particularly deep thrust that has her seeing stars.

"Love watching you fall apart on my cock," you continue, your voice rough with desire. "Love feeling your pussy get wetter and tighter with each thrust. You gonna cum for me, Hanni? Gonna show me how good I make you feel?"

She nods frantically, her eyes glazed with pleasure as she stares up at you. "So close," she whimpers. "Just a little more, please!"

You shift slightly, changing the angle of your thrusts so your cock drags against her g-spot with each stroke. At the same time, you slide your hand between your bodies to find her clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen bud.

"Fuck!" she screams, her back arching off the bed. "Right there, right fucking there!"

"Yeah? This what you need, baby?" You keep the pressure steady on her clit as you continue to pound into her g-spot. "Love how your pussy's gripping me right now. Can feel how close you are to cumming."

Her nails rake down your back as she writhes beneath you, chasing her orgasm. "Please," she begs. "Make me cum again, please make me cum!"

You lean down to whisper in her ear, your voice low and rough. "Cum for me, Hanni. Show me how good my cock makes you feel. Want to feel that tight little pussy squeeze me while you cream all over my dick."

That does it. With a sharp cry of your name, Hanni's orgasm crashes over her. Her pussy clamps down around you like a vice as she cums, her whole body shaking with the force of her release. You can feel her cream gushing around your cock, making everything even wetter and slicker as you continue to fuck her through it.

"That's it, baby," you groan, fighting against your own need to cum as her walls milk your cock. "Fuck, you look so beautiful when you cum. Love watching you lose control like this."

She's babbling incoherently now, a stream of "fuck" and "yes" and your name falling from her lips as her orgasm continues to roll through her. Her pussy is practically convulsing around your cock, making it incredibly difficult to hold back your own release.

But you manage, wanting to draw out her pleasure as long as possible. You stay buried inside her for what feels like forever, your bodies pressed together, sweat mingling, her legs still wrapped tightly around your waist. Hanni’s breathing slows gradually, her chest rising and falling against yours as her trembling subsides. You brush her hair out of her face, tucking the damp strands behind her ear, and she gives you this sleepy, satisfied grin that makes your chest ache.

“You’re gonna ruin me, baby,” she mutters, her voice soft and teasing, her fingers trailing lazily over your back. 

You chuckle, nipping at her jawline. “Pretty sure I already did that.”

“Shut up,” she murmurs, but there’s no heat to it. She shifts slightly, wincing when your cock twitches inside her, still rock hard. “Jesus, are you still ready to go?”

“Can’t help it,” you reply, smirking as you grind against her, making her gasp. “You’re fucking addictive, Hanni.”

She groans, covering her face with one hand, but when she peeks up at you through her fingers, her eyes are gleaming. “Okay, fine. My turn.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Your turn for what?”

“To make you cum, dumbass.” She pushes at your chest until you roll onto your back, letting her straddle you. Her thighs press against your hips as she sits back, your cock still buried deep inside her. She bites her lip, her hands sliding over your chest. “God, you’re fucking huge. I can feel you all the way in my stomach.”

“Yeah?” you say, your voice rough, your hands finding her waist. “You’re taking me so fucking well, Hanni. You're absolutely perfect.”

“Damn right I am,” she says, smirking as she starts to move, slow and deliberate, rocking her hips in a way that makes your breath catch. “Fuck, you’re so deep…”

She sets a rhythm, her hands braced on your chest, her body rolling against yours with a lazy, drunk confidence. The sight of her above you—hair a mess, lips swollen, her tits bouncing with every move—has you gripping her hips like she’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Shit, Hanni,” you groan, your head tipping back against the pillow. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

Her laugh is breathy, almost mocking. “Good,” she says, picking up the pace, her thighs slapping against yours with every bounce. “You deserve it.”

Her movements get sloppier, needier, her breath hitching every time your cock hits that spot inside her. And then, out of nowhere, she starts talking—dirty, raw, and absolutely unhinged.

“God, I can feel you so fucking deep,” she moans. “You’re gonna ruin me, you know that? You’re gonna fuck me so full I won’t even be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Fuck,” you hiss, her words going straight to your cock, making you buck up into her. “Keep talking, baby. Fucking say it.”

With your request, Hanni rides you with a desperation that feels almost animalistic, her hips slamming down onto yours like she’s trying to bury you even deeper inside her. Every bounce makes her tits jiggle, her nails scraping against your chest, leaving angry red trails that sting just enough to keep you tethered to reality. But just barely. You’re so drunk, so fucking drunk, that every sensation feels magnified, her heat, her tightness, the wet sounds of her cunt taking you over and over—it’s all you can focus on.

“Fuck—oh fuck—you’re so fucking deep,” she continues, her voice raw and slurred, her head tipping back as she grinds against you, her clit brushing against the base of your cock. “I really can feel you in my fucking stomach—god, you’re ruining me—”

You groan, your hands glued to her waist, guiding her movements as she slams down onto you again and again. “You’re so fucking tight, Hanni. I can barely move—you’re gripping me so fucking hard.”

Her moans grow louder, more frantic, and when she leans forward, her lips grazing your ear, her voice drops to a sultry whisper that shoots straight through you like lightning. “You’re gonna cum inside me, aren’t you?” 

Your breath catches, your hands tightening on her hips. “What?”

“You’re gonna fucking fill me up,” she says, her teeth nipping at your earlobe. “I can feel you, baby—you’re so fucking close. I want it. God, I need it.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Hanni—” Your head falls back against the pillow, your grip on her hips almost bruising now as she speeds up, her thighs slapping against yours with every bounce. You can barely form a coherent thought, let alone a reply, because all you can hear, all you can feel, is her.

“I want you to breed me,” she breathes, her words spilling out like she doesn’t even care how insane they sound. “I want you to fill me so fucking full I can feel you leaking out of me for days.”

You choke on a groan, your hips bucking up into her so hard it makes her gasp, her nails dragging down your chest. “Fuck, Hanni—you’re out of your goddamn mind.”

“And it's all your fault,” she shoots back, her voice dripping with lust as she smirks down at you. “You know you drive me crazy and still insist on teasing me. Tell me the truth: you’ve been dying to cum inside me all night, haven’t you?”

“Shit—” Your voice cracks as she grinds her hips in slow, teasing circles, her walls fluttering around you like she knows exactly what she’s doing. “You’re fucking insane.”

She leans down, her hands braced on either side of your head, her breath hot against your face. “Maybe,” she whispers, her voice trembling but full of wicked intent. “But you’re gonna give me what I want, aren’t you?”

Her lips crash against yours before you can answer, swallowing your groan as she slams down onto you again, her movements frantic and unrelenting. The angle shifts just enough to make your cock hit that perfect spot inside her, and she breaks the kiss with a scream, her body convulsing as she clings to you.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck yes—just like that,” she babbles, her words spilling out in a breathless rush. “You’re so deep, so fucking deep—I want it, baby, I want you to cum inside me. Please—fuck—please, I need it.”

Her pleading sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel your control unraveling, your body tensing as the pressure builds, white-hot and unbearable. “Shit, Hanni—I’m gonna—fuck, I’m so close—”

"Yes, yes, fucking breed me!" she begs, voice breaking as she slams herself down harder. "Fill this tight pussy up with your hot fucking cum. I need you to knock me up so bad. Pump that thick cum deep in my womb!"

Her dirty talk drives you wild. Your hands grip her waist, helping lift and drop her onto your throbbing shaft. Her pussy is absolutely drenched, making obscene wet sounds each time she takes you to the hilt. The way her walls grip and massage your cock has your eyes rolling back.

"Gonna cum," you grunt, feeling your balls tighten. "Gonna flood that tight pussy."

"Do it! Fucking do it!" She starts grinding and circling her hips, stimulating every sensitive spot. "Give me every last drop. Want your cum dripping out of me for days!"

Your orgasm hits like a tsunami. Your cock pulses violently as you start shooting thick ropes of hot cum deep inside her. But she doesn't stop - if anything she fucks you harder, determined to milk out every single drop.

"Oh fuuuuck!" you moan as she keeps bouncing through your orgasm. The stimulation is almost too much on your sensitive cock but she won't let up. Her pussy walls contract rhythmically, literally sucking the cum out of you.

"I can feel it," she pants, eyes glazed with lust. "So much hot cum filling me up. Keep cumming for me, baby. Give me more!"

The continued stimulation has you seeing stars. Your cock is so sensitive it almost hurts but the pleasure is mind-blowing. She grinds down hard, working her hips in circles as she milks out another surge of cum.

"Such a good boy," she purrs. "Giving me all that potent cum. Gonna put a baby in me with all this hot fucking seed."

Your whole body trembles as she continues riding. More cum spurts out with each bounce, making wet squelching sounds as it mixes with her juices. She's absolutely relentless, using your cock like her personal cum extraction tool.

"Please," you gasp, overwhelmed by the intense stimulation. "Fuck, Hanni!"

"Just a little more," she moans, her movements getting erratic. "Want every last drop inside me. Need all your cum breeding my tight little pussy!"

Your eyes roll back as another orgasm crashes through you, smaller but just as intense. She cries out in triumph as she feels the fresh surge of cum, her own orgasm making her pussy convulse around your oversensitive cock.

"Fuck yes! Breed me, breed me, breed meeee!" She collapses onto your chest, still grinding slowly. "So much cum... You give me so much cum, baby… can feel it so deep..."

Your cock gives a few final weak pulses, completely drained. She finally stills but keeps you trapped inside her, her pussy occasionally squeezing as if trying to coax out any remaining drops.

"Mmm, your cum is so hot, baby," she sighs contentedly. "Filled me up so perfectly. Gonna keep all this hot cum inside me until it takes."

You can only lie there panting as she nuzzles your neck, your thoroughly milked cock still twitching inside her cum-flooded pussy.

You wrap your arms around her, holding her close, and for a long moment, neither of you says anything. The room is silent except for the faint hum of the city outside and the sound of your uneven breathing. Everything feels still, heavy, like the world just stopped to let you exist like this.

Then Hanni snorts.

It starts quiet, just a soft huff against your chest, but it builds quickly, bubbling up until she’s full-on giggling like a kid who just got caught doing something stupid. It’s contagious. You’re laughing too, your head tipping back into the pillow, your chest shaking beneath her.

“What the fuck are we even laughing at?” you wheeze, running a hand through her damp hair as her giggles turn into full-blown cackles.

“I don’t know!” she gasps, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. “I think—I think it’s just—holy shit, we actually did that.”

You grin, wiping at her face with the pad of your thumb. “Yeah, we fucking did. And now I can’t feel my legs, so thanks for that.”

“Don’t even,” she shoots back, propping her chin on your chest and glaring at you playfully. “You’re the one who fucked me so hard I saw stars.”

“Yeah? You’re welcome, then.” You wink at her, and she groans, burying her face in your chest again, her laughter muffled against your skin. 

When she finally calms down, she tilts her head up to look at you, her expression softening. “Hey,” she says quietly, her fingers brushing over your jawline. “I wasn’t kidding earlier, you know. I love you.”

Her words hit you like a sucker punch, but not in a bad way. It’s more like someone just flipped a switch inside you, lighting up every dark, unspoken corner of your heart. “Fuck,” you murmur. “I love you too, Hanni.”

She beams, her smile so wide and genuine it almost makes you forget how fucking trashed you both are. “That was—shit, that was the best sex of my life,” she says, shaking her head in disbelief. “Like, no contest. Hall of Fame level.”

You snort. “Same. And that’s saying something, because I once hooked up with this girl who—”

“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence,” she interrupts, smacking your chest lightly. “Don’t ruin the moment!”

“Fine, fine,” you say, grinning as you squeeze her waist. “Moment un-ruined. But seriously, you were fucking amazing.”

She smirks, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of your neck. “Duh. I know that already.”

“God, you’re impossible,” you mutter, but your smile doesn’t falter. 

She yawns suddenly, the sound soft and innocent, and you raise an eyebrow. “You good? Wanna hop in the shower or something before we crash?”

Her nose wrinkles immediately, and she shakes her head. “Fuck that. I’m not moving an inch. We can sleep like this—sweaty, sticky, whatever. I don’t give a shit.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you pull her closer, tucking her against your side. “You’re such a goddamn gremlin.”

“Aaand-youuu-loveee-it,” she mumbles, already half-asleep, her voice muffled against your chest. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, your hand running up and down her back. “I fucking do.”

Then, finally, the alcohol and exhaustion hit you both like a fucking truck, pulling you under faster than you expect. You drift off together, her body warm and soft against yours, her breath slow and steady in your ear. It’s messy and stupid and probably the worst decision you’ve ever made, but for now, it feels like the best thing in the world. You fall asleep like two reckless, drunk kids who don’t know any better, and for a little while, everything feels perfect. 

—

It's like the first morning in purgatory. 

You stir first, the throbbing in your skull dragging you out of unconsciousness. Your mouth is dry, your limbs heavy, and every movement feels like wading through molasses. You blink against the pale light leaking through the blinds, your vision blurry, the pounding in your head relentless. Beside you, Hanni lets out a soft groan, still half-buried in the covers, her hair a wild mess against the pillow.

“Fuck…” you croak, your voice rough as sandpaper. “What the hell happened?”

Hanni stirs, her face scrunching up in discomfort. “Why does my brain feel like it’s on fire?” she mutters, her words muffled against the pillow. She shifts slightly, the sheet slipping down to reveal bare shoulders. “Wait—”

She freezes.

Your eyes snap fully open, the fog in your head clearing just enough to process what you’re seeing. Hanni’s eyes go wide, darting between your face and the sheet draped haphazardly over your waist. “Why the fuck are we naked?” she asks, her voice pitching higher, panic seeping into her tone.

You wince, the sound drilling into your already aching skull. “I—uh—” You glance down, seeing your bare chest, then feel the cool air against your equally bare ass under the sheets. “Shit.”

Her hands fly to her own chest, clutching the blanket against herself as if that’ll undo whatever the fuck happened. “Did we…? Oh my god, did we fuck?” 

You sit up slowly, your head spinning. “I don’t know! I mean…” Your brow furrows as fragmented memories start piecing themselves together. Her riding you, her breathless moans, the way she begged—fuck, fuck, fuck. “Okay, maybe. Yeah, probably.”

“Probably?” she snaps, sitting up too quickly and clutching her head. “Fuck, my brain feels like it’s gonna split in half. Okay, but like—wait.” Her voice falters, her panic mounting as her eyes search your face. “Did you—did you, uh, cum inside me?”

You freeze, the question hitting you like a brick to the face. “What?” you ask, stalling for time as your headache roars back to life. “I don’t…fuck, I don’t remember. I was so wasted—”

“Oh my god,” she interrupts, her voice trembling as she throws off the covers and sits back on her heels, her hands flying between her legs. She winces, her fingers brushing something sticky, and when she pulls them back, her face goes pale. “Oh my fucking god. I can feel it. It’s—it’s dry—holy shit, you really came inside me!”

Your stomach twists violently as the memories come flooding back—the heat of her body, the way she clung to you, the way you spilled into her so deeply it felt like you’d never come back up for air. “Shit,” you mutter, dragging a hand down your face. “Okay. Fuck. Yeah, that…definitely happened.”

“On Christmas?” she nearly shrieks, clutching the sheet around herself like it’s some kind of moral shield. “You knocked me up on fucking Christmas? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Whoa, whoa, hold up!” you say, raising your hands defensively. “First of all, technically it was on Christmas Eve. Hmm, although there is a big chance it could have happened after midnight, I think we got here pretty late…” Hanni looks at you as if contemplating the idea of committing murder. “Oh, second and most importantly, nobody’s knocked up yet. It doesn’t happen that fast!”

“Yeah, but you fucking came inside me!” she shoots back, her voice a wild mix of fury and panic. “What the hell were we thinking? Why the fuck didn’t we use a condom?!” 

“I don’t know, Hanni! We were drunk off our asses! I barely even remember half of last night!” You gesture vaguely at the room, at the scattered clothes and the bed completely messed up. “I mean, look at this shit. Does this look like the scene of responsible decision-making?”

She glares at you, her hands still clutching the sheet tightly. “Okay, well, what the fuck do we do now? The pharmacies are probably closed. It’s Christmas! Do you think there’s some magical 24/7 Plan B hotline we can call? Hey, Santa, got any emergency contraceptives in that bag of yours?”

Her sarcasm slices through the tension, and despite the mounting panic, you can’t help but laugh—a short, bitter sound. “Yeah, let’s just write to the fucking North Pole. ‘Dear Santa, I was very naughty last night. Please send condoms and a time machine.’”

She doesn’t laugh. She’s too busy pacing now, muttering under her breath as she tries to piece together a plan. “Okay, okay, maybe there’s a convenience store open somewhere. Or—fuck, do I know someone who could have contraceptives? No, that’s stupid—god, I’m so fucking stupid—”

Hanni moves like a whirlwind, her body tense and her face set as she grabs her scattered clothes off your bedroom and hallway floor. She doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even glance in your direction as she yanks her sweater over her head and hops into her underwear with sharp, jerky movements. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, the sheet pooling around your waist, watching her with growing agony.

“Hanni, will you just fucking stop for a second?” you say, your voice low but urgent. “We need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” she snaps, still not looking at you as she grabs her jeans. “About how we were too drunk and stupid to use protection? About how I might have a goddamn Christmas baby on the way? Yeah, sounds like a super fun conversation.”

You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face. “Come on, don’t do this. We can figure it out together—”

“There’s nothing to figure out!” she interrupts, finally turning to face you, her expression a volatile mix of anger and panic. “I’m going home. I need—I just need to think. Alone.”

“Alone?” you repeat, standing up, the sheet slipping off your waist. “You’re seriously just gonna leave? What if you—”

“I’ll find a pharmacy,” she says quickly, cutting you off again. “I’ll take care of it. I just… I can’t fucking deal with this right now, okay?”

“Hanni, please,” you say, stepping closer, reaching out to grab her arm. “Don’t shut me out. I—fuck, I care about you. We’ll get through this together.”

She pulls her arm out of your grip, her jaw tight. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who could end up pregnant. You’re not the one who has to wonder how the fuck you got here with your best friend.”

This unsettles you for a moment, but before you can reply, she’s already slipping on her jacket, her hand on the doorknob. “Hanni,” you say again, softer this time, your voice almost pleading. “Stay. Please.”

She pauses, just for a second, her shoulders slumping. But then she shakes her head, her voice nothing but a whisper. “I can’t.” 

And with that, she’s gone, leaving you standing in the doorway, naked, hungover, and completely fucking lost.

—

The next few weeks are a blur of radio silence and vague, clipped texts that feel more like placeholders than actual communication. Hanni texts you the morning after to say she found a pharmacy that was miraculously open on Christmas and took the pill, but that’s it. No follow-ups, no calls, just short, impersonal messages that feel like they’re written by a stranger.

You spend every day alternating between guilt, panic, and a weird, gnawing ache you can’t quite name. Every time your phone buzzes, your heart races, hoping it’s her. Half the time it’s not, and the other half it’s just more of the same: I’m fine. Just busy. Talk later.

When “later” finally comes, it’s weeks down the line. You’re sitting on your couch, staring blankly at some shitty Netflix movie you’re not even watching, when your phone rings. The sight of Hanni’s name on the screen jolts you upright, your heart pounding as you fumble to answer.

“Hanni,” you say, your voice cracking slightly. “Hey. What’s—what’s up?”

There’s a pause, and then her voice comes through, soft and hesitant. “I got my period.”

Relief floods through you so fast it almost knocks you over. “Oh, thank fuck,” you mutter, leaning back into the couch, your head tipping back against the cushions. “That’s—that’s fucking great news.”

“Yeah,” she says, but there’s no relief in her tone. Just exhaustion. “It is.”

You sit in silence for a moment, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you like a storm cloud. Finally, you clear your throat. “Can I see you? Maybe we could grab coffee or something, just talk. I miss you, Hanni.”

She sighs, long and heavy. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What…? Why not?”

“Because,” she says, her voice breaking slightly. “Because I’ve spent the last few weeks losing my mind, thinking about what might have happened, what did happen. I’ve been trying to figure out how the fuck we ended up here, and I still don’t have an answer.”

“We ended up here because we were drunk and stupid,” you say quickly, your words spilling out like a defense mechanism. “But that doesn’t mean—”

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t a mistake?” she interrupts, her tone sharper now. “Because that’s what I keep asking myself. Was this a mistake? Did we ruin everything for one fucking night of drunken stupidity?”

“Hanni,” you say, your voice low and steady. “It wasn’t just one night. Don’t pretend like you don’t feel something—”

“Of course I feel something!” she snaps, cutting you off. “That’s the fucking problem! I can’t stop thinking about it—about you. About your hands, your body, your mouth, your fucking cock. And that’s why I can’t see you right now, because if I do…” She trails off, her breath hitching.

“Because if you do, what?” you press, your chest tight.

“Because if I do, it’s gonna happen again,” she says, her voice trembling. “And I don’t know if that’s a good thing or if it’s just gonna destroy everything we had.”

“We’ve already fucked up everything we had, Hanni,” you say quietly. “The question is whether we’re gonna fix it or just throw it all away.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, bitter and broken. “I don’t know if it can be fixed. I don’t even know what it is anymore.”

“So what?” you say, your voice rising slightly. “You’re just gonna ghost me? Walk away from everything we’ve built?”

“I’m not walking away,” she says softly. “I just… I need time. To figure out what I want, what we are, what we could be. I need to get over this before I see you again. Because if I don’t…”

“I thought you loved me... I mean, you said that to me that night.” 

“I wasn't ready, you understand? Not really. This wasn't how I wanted it to happen… our first time, the confession of my feelings… I just…”

She doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t need to. The weight of her words hangs heavy in the silence, suffocating you.

“When will I see you?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” she replies, her voice cracking. “I really don’t.”

“Hann—”

The line cuts out, and you’re left holding the phone, staring at her name disappearing from the screen. The movie’s still playing, but it might as well not be.

You drop the phone, lean back, and close your eyes. Outside, the world moves on, but inside, it’s just silence—heavy, empty, and endless.

[jolalibrary]

don't move, honey

joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel doesn't want you to move or touch until he comes back to bed.

wordcount: 1.9k warnings: smut. smut. smut. no outbreak. there's a vibrator and then joel's cock. established relationship. he's happy, and you're very happy. an: dedicated to the one, the only @thetriumphantpanda who i have spent all day with, and promise to always dedicate joel too.

He’s already been called for once.

A high-pitched squeal of Dad coming from behind his door, a reminder that you said you’d drop me off following. Yet, as you giggle at Sarah's stomp off, Joel’s face remains buried in your neck, covering your ear with his palm as he bellows that he’ll be a minute.

It’s a white lie. One you know well from the way he’s been sliding his hand across your hip that he hopes for more than a minute, or even five. A thing he’d have if he took her to her party that turns into a sleepover.

“You know, if you—”

“I know, I know.”

Gruffly painting it against your neck in heavy, annoyed exhales as you smile, as your hand comes around to play with the hair atop his head.

“She’ll burst through the door in a moment.”

Grunting, vibrating it across your skin, he drags his palm along your lower stomach. Thick finger, by thick finger falling from your skin till he pings the t-shirt you’ve chosen to sleep with back into place.

Another knock sounds, and you smile against his lips, saying “told you” at the same time as the voice on the other side calls “Dad?”

He snorts, the side of his body flush to yours as he takes one more kiss, fingers either side of your jaw as he presses another, and then another, before shouting “I’m comin’” to the door.

“Don’t move, honey. Please.”

He whispers it. It leaves the back of his throat all gravelly, almost desperately. His hips flush with yours as he leaves messy kisses along your lips, down your neck, and along your collarbone, before dragging himself up. It’s begrudging, the way he pulls on jeans over his thighs, pinning you with a stare.

“Jus’ stay right there—I’ll be thirty, forty minutes. Drop her off and then we can…”

Smirking, stretching in his sheets, your movements force the tee you’ve slept in to stretch out over your breasts, making his eyes drop to your hardened peaks. And you watch him shake his head, cursing under his breath—all Jesus fuckin’ Christ—before it’s punctured with the sound of his zip and then a button.

“Don’t touch either while I’m gone.”

Smiling, falling onto your side, knee bent as he throws on a somewhat clean t-shirt.

“I won’t. I’ll be good.”

He snorts at that, hand running through his hair to mess it up—hand wiping his chin as he takes another look at you. “Y’don’t know how to be good—it’s how I end up late.”

“Think that’s shit out of luck planning, Miller.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, hand wrapped around the door handle. “Don’t touch.”

But you want to.

It’s all you can think about when you hear the door slam behind the two of them and his truck roar to life.

The neediness rises, knowing there’s a patch already forming on your underwear, likely having already ruined the gusset of your panties as thirty stretches to forty to fifty.

And your resolve almost snaps. Pleasure threatens to ripple when you brush your thighs together, close to snaking your fingers under the cotton band, wishing to stroke circles against your clit and be cascaded in a wave of your own making.

You give him another minute, consider two.

Toying with the idea, tempted to see if you can place his pillow between your thighs. See if it’ll give you enough friction, enough of a release. Fingers flirting with the end of it when it echoes through the house—

The front door opening and then slamming.

You bite back a giggle, a laugh. Thrill blooming through you, excitement, all-electric, finding him wrestling with his top as he bursts back through his bedroom door.

He must know you’ve been good, that you’ve done as he’s asked because he kisses you so hungrily once he’s kneeling on either side of your frame. His mouth is desperate in its attempts to take your breath away as the scent of him smothers you, becoming all you can smell.

“Missed you.”

He hums as your fingers clutch at his cheeks, hips trying to roll against him as the presence of him only makes you wetter. A thing which worsens when you hear the sound of his bedside table drawer opening, it rolling on its rails as you whimper, letting it find purpose against his lips.

Fingers tugging on his curls, you swallow his groan as you snake your fingers into his hair and scrape your nails against his scalp. Feeling nothing but confident, cocky—all set to ask him when he’s gonna fill you up, but a gasp is forced from you instead.

It smothers his mouth. Leaves your throat and finds a home in his. Aware of him smirking as you arch into him in surprise—barely recognising it before it’s intensely pressing on you.

He’s begun on low, the vibration. But he’s pressed against your cloth-covered mound with skill. Vibrations ripple out, teasing, as his fingers roll the head of it over your swollen nerves and drenched folds—no aim in sight, just teasing, taunting.

“Was thinkin’ of you the entire ride,” he murmurs, and you can only moan, vision spotting already. “Imagined I’d come back and find you fuckin’ yourself with this.”

Shaking your head, your mouth hangs open. Chest heaving. Little shallow breaths escaping as he drags the head of the toy up and down—

“Thought you’d be writhing, soaking it—gushin’ around it. Making noises that fill the house. Fuckin’ love it when you’re messy. Y’know that?”

And somehow, with a thick tongue and a shaky mind, you tell him that you’ve been good—good for him, all for him. Tongue lazily licking the words into his mouth. Feeling him peeling your panties from your slick-covered pussy, before gliding the silicone through your pleasure, coating it—dragging it up and down.

It’s then there’s a click, the vibrations intensifying.

A depraved, knotty moan escaping from your throat, so low, so loud, it forces a laugh to rumble through his chest at the way you grasp for him—the way you draw-out his name. Arching, head falling back as your neck unveils to him, as he shifts closer to smother you, continuing his assault as he moves the toy between your spread thighs—

Pressing it, rolling it in circles against your swollen clit.

And you’re burning. A mere passenger. Nothing but heaving and desperately pleading, before feeling two of his thick fingers slide into you, curl, press against that spot that makes your thighs tremble. That makes heat turn into fire and lick through your insides as you rock. As you leverage both your feet for balance and thrust into his touch.

Close, close, close—

And it’s not a command or even an ask, Joel just asks if he can have it. You, your pleasure, this. So you give it to him, willingly. Crying out as the pressure builds, becoming overwhelming as you shake and dangle, before it cracks. Eyes clenching shut, sinful noises falling from your tongue as you come hard around his fingers, shaking, trembling.

Aware, distantly, of the vibration still pressing against you, of his voice cooing you back, before you the familiarity of his knee against yours, as he keeps you spread. Your eyes open in time to see him throw the toy down the bed and kneeling to undo his jeans—

“Y’so good for me, did so good.”

You’re aware you’re nodding. Dumbly, numbly. All tingly from head to fucking toe as you feel him slide your underwear down your legs. Lifting on shaky elbows to admire him with his hard, leaking cock in hand as he stares at the mess he’s made of you. The one between your legs before dragging his eyes up to your face before he smiles, smirks, gleams.

“Wanna make you say my name like that again.”

And it is sheepish, shy, lazy, the way you smile, sliding your legs over his upper thighs as he nears, as he shuffles closer until your lower body is elevated and you can feel the movements of his hand up and down his cock before he’s brushing the head through your folds.

Up, down; up, down—

“Joel—”

“I know, honey. I know.”

Swallowing, you place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, tapping, before snaking it to his shoulder. Knowing, digging your nails in as he inches himself in, bottoming out as you stretch, his name shuddering from your throat as he takes a sharp breath in.

“Fuck—”

Fluttering around him, sensitive and yet shameless in your want for him.

He who is all hard, thick, long—mouth sealing to yours as your open mouth turns into kiss, clutching him, all bare, warm and yours as he fucks into you, deep, palm and fingers gripping your side, your hip.

“—Feel so perfect ‘round me…”,

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

He repeats it like a mantra; like it’s a thing he wishes to remind you of as he builds to a brutal pace. Little hisses escaping through gritted teeth, the sound of his hips snapping to yours—and the wetness between your thighs messily coating the coarse hair at the base of him, making him sticky, messy—

And you’re so full. Already ready to crash again, broken sobs writing a poem in the air as it builds and builds. Because the head of his cock is hitting that spot all over again, making your thighs tremble. Only finding yourself able to whine, moan, tangling fingers in his sheets as you feel his palms under your back, lifting, bringing you closer before it latches to your jaw, teeth grazing down your neck.

Somehow, from this angle, he’s deeper. His mouth trailing unspoken words to your skin as you stare down at the place the two of you meet; seeing how he glistens before he vanishes back into you. Tightening around him at the sight, clenching—

Fuck, fuck, Joel, fuck—

And your breath hitches before you’re convulsing—everything blurring.

White noise ringing out, vision blackened as you swear you leave your body. Hovering somewhere above it before you become aware of the air being tinged with the sounds of you both crying out—how it’s stained in sweat, in pleasure. How he hisses before he grunts, cock twitching inside of you as his hips lose their rhythm.

He pants, before he collapses on you, your legs nothing but limp as his forearms cage you in.

Three words burn on your tongue as you press your mouth to one bicep, writing it there, leaving it against his skin before your lips are dragged to his. Wet, hot kisses that you give and take willingly as he rocks gently, fucking his come deeper into you as you feel him slowly soften.

And then you smile, lazier than before. Your chest slows in its rise and fall as you feel his heartbeat hammer against yours, hearing him whisper perfect as you grin against his mouth.

an: it's getting hot in here, so....

[moralesluvr]

can you please write a crazy fanfic where billie is like a fuckboy and she meets reader at a house party in LA and wants her so bad but reader plays hard to get and they end up having sex at hers and billies friend is in the room but billie doesnt gaf ? <3

FOR TONIGHT | b. eilish.

ꨄ︎ this is probably the filthiest thing i’ve ever written. read at your own risk!

house parties were usually never your thing until you met charli.

you had bumped into the pop star in your coffee shop once while running late to work, and somehow the both of you sparked up a conversation when you muttered something (mostly derogatory) about your manager under your breath, earning a laugh from the girl, and ultimately leading to your undying friendship.

ever since the two of you became friends, charli had pulled your buried, most innermost extroverted parts out, dragging you along to house parties and clubs with various famous people— from actors to DJs, you had your fair share of once in a lifetime interactions.

tonight, you currently sat on the floor of your best friend’s room, finishing off the wing of eyeliner that boldly lifted your cat eyed look. you were clad in a lacy spaghetti string top and a pair of short brown leather shorts, a pair of boots that you borrowed from charli waiting for you by her vanity— which she was currently sitting at, finishing off her makeup.

“you ready for this party tonight?” she asked you, turning around in her rolley chair to offer you a wiggle of her eyebrows, excitement glossing over her eyes, “i’m so excited, we haven’t been out in ages.”

“i don’t know,” you shrugged honestly, standing up and lazily dragging yourself to a spot on her king-sized bed, careful not to get any of your makeup on her pure white sheets. “i feel like it’s just another party we’re going to, nothing too special.”

charli turned her attention back to the mirror and applied her blush in gentle but swift movements, a pinky tint beginning to blossom against her cheeks as she called out to her alexa to shuffle her getting ready playlist. when it turned on some of her notorious house music, she bopped from side to side, speaking loudly over the beat, “you’ll have fun tonight, though— it’ll probably be more chill than usual!”

you rolled your eyes, because charli’s chill and your chill were on opposite sides of a spectrum. but you couldn’t even protest because you swore up and down you’d stop being so damn antisocial, and actually try going out again for once, though it made you cringe at the thought of stepping out of your comfort zone.

it didn’t take long for your best friend to finish getting ready, and when the both of you had your bags in hand and empty shot glasses discarded in the sink from your pregame, you strutted out the door and made your way to the uber that waited outside her door. you yanked the car door open and greeted the driver, who was a young-looking man with fierce blue eyeshadow and curly blonde hair. he was sweet and genuine when he said hello back, pulling off into the road and typing the address into the GPS.

anxiety began to bubble in your chest, but not because you were scared— it was mainly because charli wouldn’t let you be a debbie downer and not drink or dance with her tonight. it wasn’t that you weren’t in the mood, but it had been so long that you just felt like you were out of your element.

“i’m fuckin’ pumped!” she hooted from the seat next to you, reaching into her bag and pulling out a small glass of pink liquid, and you furrowed your eyebrows at her when you realized that the liquid was actually pink whitney.

“charli,” you mumbled, mostly out of second hand embarrassment for the poor driver, “did we not just pregame?”

she shook her head as you arrived at the party, insinuating that the shot you both took together wasn’t enough for her. your eyes widened as the car came to a stop— this house was huge.

you didn’t even really know who was throwing the party, just that you were invited, but whoever it was clearly had enough money to spend it on this huge, all black penthouse. cars were lined up and down the driveway and road, ranging from bentleys to ferraris and porches, and your stomach twisted when you saw a couple familiar faces walking in and standing in the lawn with red solo cups in their hands.

charli picked up on your anxiety and rubbed your back as you both thanked the driver and exited the vehicle, “relax a bit, love, we’ve done this before.”

“that isn’t as comforting as you think.” honesty is laced in your voice as charli shrugs at you, hand on the small of your exposed back, leading you inside. the lights were completely off except for a few LEDs here and there. people were all over the place, from corners in the living room to people gambling in the living room, and the secular atmosphere made you tense up a little bit. it had been so long since you had been to one of these functions, and at first, you weren’t sure you were going to survive.

however, about an hour into the night, you had thanked charli a million times over for getting a little liquor in your system. you weren’t drunk, but you were tipsy enough to where every nervous atom in your body told you that being timid was just a suggestion, not a command. you were pretty much all over the place now— cutting up on the dance floor with charli, carrying on with some of your friends— it made every tense moment soften up.

you were dancing and singing loudly to whatever was playing on aux when the beat suddenly switched to more of a synthy sound, and you immediately recognized charli’s voice that was amplified from the speakers above.

“hey billie, you there?”

you thought it was slightly ironic that they were playing her own music at the party, but you just shrugged as you weaved yourself through the thick crowd, making your way over to the drink station.

you were waiting patiently for your drink when you heard a familiar voice behind you, and then someone’s warm skin connecting with your own on your exposed legs. you turned around and met eyes with none other than billie eilish, who was offering you a small grin as she held her red solo cup next to you, swishing the liquid in it around a few times, “didn’t expect to see you here, angel.”

you spun around on your heel, your face just inches away from her own as she took a sip of her drink, still holding eye contact with you over the rim of her cup. the way she looked at you— lowly and dark with her blue eyes sparkling in the sparse light, it made a unfamiliar heat crawl up your neck as you sucked in a breath, “eilish. nice to see you.”

“definitely nice to see you,” billie giggled, irises scanning you intensively as she leaned up against the marble counter next to her, “you look really fucking good.”

“for someone you’ve only met a couple times before this, you’re awfully bold.” you swallowed with a laugh, downing another shot as the alcohol burned your throat, making you let out a quiet cough. you smacked the shot glass against the counter and smirked at billie, “and for the record, i’m not really into the bold type.”

billie titled her head as you started to walk away, though you fully expected her to follow you— and you were right. her footsteps were close behind yours as you muttered apologized throughout the large crowd, finally settling on escaping through a pair of big glass doors, stepping out into the warm california air, perching against the balcony.

the teal eyed girl eventually leaned closer to you, her smirk widening as she took another sip out of her cup, “well, good thing i’m not all that bold, just persistent.”

you roll your eyes, “can’t you just go torture some other girl?”

“only if you admit that you like the attention first.”

although she was annoying, billie lived up to her word that she was extremely persistent with her wits. you ignored her attempt to flirt and reached into your leather handbag, fishing out a cigarette and a lighter. as you grab one and take a thick drag, billie pouts at you, but you shrug off her half-irritated expression. the faint orange glow from the end of your cigarette illuminates against your face, and you turn your head and exhale your smoke when you hear billie speak.

y’know that’s gonna kill you, right?”

a shrug is all you offer to her, letting it be known that her opinion was absolute last on your list of things to consider.

“hope it does,” you speak coolly, “so i can get away from you,” you seethe with obvious annoyance laced within your tone, but it doesn’t make billie stop her advances. she just watches as you smoke, admiring the waning sunset and the chatter of people’s voices muffled over the sound of music playing from inside the house. the silence is comforting until of course, billie breaks it, “okay damn, do you always have an attitude like this?”

“only when people think they can tell me what to do.” your reply backs up the action of you bringing your cig up to your lips to take another puff, almost to prove a clear point to billie, who’s watching you with intense eyes. she shoves her hands into her pockets nonchalantly, “m’kay, miss hard to get— what do i have to do to make you not hate me?”

“probably die.”

“ouch. but you’re not as scary as you think, angel.”

her words piss you off, but mainly because there isn’t much of a false statement within them. you weren’t scary at all, but you were mainly just annoyed and too almost-drunk and cigarette buzzed to give a damn about whatever she was saying. everytime you saw her at a party, it was this— her trying to hit on you, you refusing but in a flirtatious way, and then you went about your business. but there was something enigmatic about her advances now that made your skin tingle, especially when she looked at you with those fucking icy blue eyes.

you finished off your cigarette and threw it on the wooden floor below you, smushing the butt of it with your booted heels, a sigh passing through your swollen lips. billie spoke again, a little more softer this time, but her voice still intense as always.

“why do you play so damn hard to get, y/n?”

the question makes words of honesty roll of your tongue, the feeling of intoxication rolling over you like a small wave as you spoke lowly, “honestly, it’s just fun watching you try this hard.”

billie laughed at that, the sound smooth and sultry, and stepped closer, her body nearly brushing against your own, making your breath hitch slightly in your throat.

“be careful, baby,” she warned, her voice soft, but still weaved with her usual tone of challenge and determination, “i’m not sure you really understand what you’re getting into.”

your eyes locked with hers as she spoke, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how serious she was, yet how stupid she sounded. “wow, billie, i’ll hand it to you— you talk a lot of shit for someone who hasn’t made a single move yet.”

billie’s smile faltered a bit, swooping all her hair to one side of her shoulders as she moved so close to you that you could hear her breathing. she gave you a quick scan with an unclear motive behind her eyes, whispering, “don’t worry, babygirl. i’ll do plenty.”

you scoff, though the lack of distance between you and billie made you anxious now. her skin was touching yours now, and the contact sent ribbons of electricity up and down your spine as you looked up at her. you didn’t even realize that you weren’t breathing until she told you to do so, and embarrassment crawled onto your face when you caught your lost breath.

she had grabbed your waist without a word, her face already so close to yours that it was like you were asking for her to kiss you— so that’s exactly what she did.

she hungrily pressed her lips onto yours, fingers digging so hard into your sides that you were sure she left marks. the kiss was hungry and lustful, your body succumbing to her touch as your hips rocked against her own involuntarily, which made you feel even more embarrassed.

she pulled away with a laugh, “somebody’s a little worked up now, hm?”

before you could respond to her teasing, a loud crash echoed from deeper inside the house, the sound sharp enough to cut through the thick tension in the air. instinctively, you glanced over your shoulder, but billie didn’t loosen her grip on you, her hands still firm on your waist.

“don’t even think about it,” she murmured, her voice low, a warning laced with something a little darker.

“what if someone needs help?” you teased, trying to play it cool despite the heat swirling between you. you were trying to play off the fact that the effect she had on you was now to her knowledge, but your attempts were failed.

billie leaned in closer, her lips brushing your ear as she whispered next to you, her breath tickling your skin. “oh don’t worry— they’ll be fine. but you? you’re mine for the night.”

you sucked in a breath, her words pulling a spark of something unexpected in your chest as you spoke, “you’re awfully possessive for someone who just met me,” you shot back, though you couldn’t quite ignore the way your heart raced at the thought of going home with her tonight. it didn’t seem like such a bad idea now— it was nothing serious, just a loose hookup with some hot girl from a friend’s party, what ever could go wrong?

billie grinned at your statement, her thumb now tracing small circles on your side, sending shivers down your spine. “maybe, but i’m sure you like it,” she said, her lips brushing against yours lightly, teasingly, as though she was waiting for you to make the next move.

you whined at that. your little ‘hard’ act was over now, and all you wanted was for the little issue that had soaked your underwear to be fixed, and fixed immediately. but you couldn’t let billie know that just yet, so you tilted your head and leaned in, speaking seductively, “and what if i don’t, hm?”

“then i guess I’ll just have to convince you,” billie replied, the smirk on her lips growing nothing but wicked as her hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you in closer.

the words made a sharp feeling of arousal poke inside of you, and before you could process them fully, she kissed you again—fiercer this time, like this was her only shot at you. you didn’t want it to end, really— but she cut it off to whisper in your ear, her nails digging into your soft flesh.

“let’s go, now.”

there was nothing more that you could do to protest. you were hopeless at this point, so you latched your hand onto billie’s as she guided you back inside and through the crowd, pushing past people just to make it known that you were coming with her.

cocky bitch.

you eventually pushed past so many different people that a strong mix of cologne, liquor, and perfume filled your nose. you had made eye contact with charli, who did nothing but give you a wiggle of her eyebrows and a wink when she saw who you were leaving with, which made you even more scared.

as you made your way outside, a fresh wind of air flew against your face, and you felt like anxiety was the only thing pumping through your veins as billie led you to her black porsche, opening the door for you.

“my lady,” she joked as you climbed inside, though really, in this moment, it felt like her saying “my whore,” was more appropriate. here you were— playing hard to get at first, now cooped up in some girl’s car that you barely know after a party, and on the way to her place.

the car ride felt way longer than it actually was, because your mind couldn’t stop racing against your will about what was about to happen to you. you sat in the driveway now, and billie wasn’t speaking, which only made your nerves more amplified as she opened the door for you again, eventually leading you inside.

as soon as she closed the door behind you, she was on you like white on rice. her lips immediately smashed into yours— and it wasn’t sweet, either— it was hard and fast and so very impure. you were moaning into her mouth when she swept you right off of your feet, your legs wrapped around her hips as her back settled against the wall. one of billie’s ringed hands supported your ass as her tongue timidly crossed paths with your own, and soon enough, the only sounds that could be heard without her house were the sounds of heavy breathing and lips smacking.

billie pulled away and your legs detached from her hips because you felt like if you didn’t stand, you were gonna pass out. a whine left you as billie shot you a look of such passion that it almost scared you.

“look at you,” she talked louder now that you two were in private, her tattooed hand coming up to wrap itself around your neck, but lacking a squeeze, “just an hour ago you were so persistent that i leave you alone, but now the only thought in your head is of me fuckin’ you, huh?”

you can’t even respond because you know she’s speaking nothing but the truth. billie doesn’t give you the opportunity to speak, either, she just presses you further against the wall and swipes her lips against your own, backing up and leading you to her bedroom without breaking the kiss, your only guidance being her hand that was firmly pressed against your throat.

billie eventually had you laying back-down on her bed as she sat on top of you, hands roaming all around your exposed skin. you let out helpless moans— you were such a horny mess when you were drunk, but you didn’t care now— all you cared about was making sure billie understand how eager you were for her, how bad you needed her.

she broke the kiss and began to use her right hand to undo the zipper on your shorts, but when it jammed, she let out a thick sigh of annoyance.

“just fuckin’ get rid of it, it’s pissing me off.”

you adhere to her request with quick obedience, taking off your shorts quickly and discarding them by throwing them somewhere around the room. billie offers your neck light kisses before sucking at the bare skin, a moan passing through your lips as she left dark love bites on you.

“b-billie…” you moaned, “please, just…touch me already.”

“oh, i thought you couldn’t stand me.” she teased you, taking off your lacy top, revealing your bare boobs due to you not wearing a bra.

your nipples laid victim to billie’s touch as she sucked on your left one, her thumb and index finger rubbing against your right one, and it took everything in you not to cum right then and there.

the alcohol in your body made every single part of you so sensitive, and you didn’t know how much more you could take when billie left a huge hickey on the skin in between your breasts. she was relentless with her movements, her head now plastered right between your thighs, the tip of her nose meeting with the very tip top of your clit.

billie’s eyes drop to your pretty blue panties that you’re wearing, a noticeable wet spot forming in the crotch of them, making your cheeks feel hot to the touch.

“already so wet for me and i’ve barely even touched you. what a dirty little girl— you wanna be fucked all better by me, hm? someone who you hardly know?”

you don’t let anything out but noise, and billie yanks your underwear down with a swift movement, her head so deeply buried in between your thighs that you can feel her warmth against your sex. billie lets out a cocky gasp when her eyes lay on your pussy, “gosh, you’re dripping, baby.”

“eilish, just t-touch me already,” you stutter out pathetically, and billie can’t hold back anymore, so she listens to your request and fulfills it, fully. her tongue quickly maneuvers itself into your leaking cunt, collecting all your juices like trophies as her thumb comes up to rub your clit. the pleasure makes your skin feel hot and tingly as you arch your back, little moans passing through your lips.

just as things start to get more intense, you hear someone walking around in the living room and call out billie’s name. your eyes widen and you freeze up like a deer in headlights, but billie looks up at you and shrugs, “it’s just zoe.”

“just zoe?” you whisper-yell, “i don’t wanna be caught having sex with you when your friend is here!”

“then don’t get us caught.”

billie says it like it’s simple, and she returns to the task at hand, eating you out like it’s the last meal she’ll ever have. your hands found themselves in her hair, grabbing a handful of it so hard that it was the only thing steadying your body weight.

“you taste s’good, my god.” billie mewls against your sex, “made me work so hard for this pussy, feels like such a reward.”

billie switches out her tongue for two of her fingers now, and she doesn’t care that they’ve still got her rings on them. you both watch as your cunt swallows her digits that pump into you harshly, her silver jewelry now coated with your arousal. she curls her fingertips upwards, hitting a sweet and spongy spot deep within you that makes your hips buck wildly.

you feel your eyes start to shut, but billie gives you a slap to the thigh, forcing you to accept her offer of eye contact that she gives you, “look at me, slut. you wanted this— so you’re gonna watch me fuck you, and if you even make a single noise, i’m not letting you cum. understand that, princess? nod if you do.”

you nod fervently, your lips flattening out as you made sure not to make a single noise. footsteps sounded from outside and a knock was harbored against billie’s bedroom door, “bils? you in there?”

“a little busy right now, zo.” billie called out, still fucking into your pussy harshly with her thick fingers. you felt your orgasm bubble deep within you and you wanted to make a sound so show for it so badly, but it seems like billie picked up on the memo by the way she used her other hand to toy at your swollen clit.

“oh, okay! just wanted to let you know that there’s leftovers in the fridge, and that i’m gonna go ahead and hit the hay. goodnight, love you!” zoe called as her footsteps faded out, and billie yelled back something about how she loved her too and how she’d probably eat the food later.

she then turned her attention back to you, watching as you fell apart because of her hard, quick movements.

“bil…bil…billie, please,” you whined and whimpered and begged for the blue eyed girl, your hips crushing down onto her fingers in a desperate effort to get yourself off, “i’m so close…i’m gonna…gonna cum—“

“hm, i don’t know, should i even let you cum?” billie spoke through a teasing, soft voice, making you whimper at the fact that you may or may not be able to cum, and whatever the answer was it was completely up to her to decide.

you couldn’t take the teasing anymore— you were so damn close, and would pretty much do anything to finish yourself off. you looked down at billie and when you made eye contact with her, you immediately screwed your eyes shut. it was just too much.

but you wanted to reach that sweet point of pleasure so bad, so you whispered in pleasure, “p-please billie, i’ll do anything just…i wanna cum, i wanna cum so bad…”

“only if you ask nicely.”

clearly billie was fucking with you. you had obviously asked pretty nicely the first time, but it wasn’t adequate enough for her, needless to say. she had slowed down her thrusts, making that tight feeling in your tummy subside, and you let out a long whine of complaint at that.

just ask nicely, you thought— and if maybe you did it the right way, even though it chipped at your pride, you’d finally get to cum, the feeling you’d been waiting for for what seemed like hours.

“please, please, please let me cum.”

billie tilted her head to the side cockily, and you already knew there was gonna be something else she was going to force you to do until you could be granted that feeling of release.

“please, who?”

usually you couldn’t be paid to call someone anything other than terms of endearment or their legal name, but in this moment, it felt so effortless as the nickname slipped between your teeth, a small moan pressed behind it.

“p-please, mommy— please just…l-let me…fuck…!”

billie cooed underneath you as she fucked into you relentlessly, that familiar feeling reappearing in your stomach as your cunt fluttered around the girl’s fingers, her other hand busy with rubbing your puffy clit in big, sloppy circles, fueling your orgasm.

“that’s right, make a mess on me, it’s okay.” billie praised, watching you as you came undone on her fingers, a bunch of ‘thank you’s and moans leaving your lips as she fucked you through your orgasm slowly.

you can’t even speak it was so good, and billie gives your clit a couple lazy kisses before gathering your juices up onto her fingertips, placing them in her mouth and looking up at you with hungry eyes.

“taste fucking marvelous, babygirl.” billie giggled, coming up to your level to plant a kiss on your own lips before she stood up off the bed, venturing over to her dresser where she pulled out a thick, purple strap. she slipped her own clothing off and started to slip the strap on, making you gulp nervously when the length was put into perspective.

“y’know,” billie starts as she makes her way back over to her bed, where you were a quivering mess, laying on her plain sheets that were now decorated by your small wet spot beneath you.

“didn’t think you’d be so submissive in bed.”

“i’m not!” you protest, but you start to regret your words when billie slammed into you, the tip of her cock kissing your cervix, making a feeling of pain mixed with pleasure wash over you. it was a mistake to say that in short, billie wasn’t the only one capable of being the boss— and you wish that the statement had never left your mouth.

billie ruts her hips into your own, and her demeanor is nothing but mean. one hand is tugging at your hair, and the other slapping your ass every once and a while— unless her thumb is too busy rolling against your clit that was so sensitive to touch, it borderline hurt.

“talk to me, slut,” billie spoke naughtily, “how’s this feel, hm? my dick slamming into you, your pretty little pussy clenching around me? that feel good?”

“s-s’good, yes, bils!” you yell, completely disregarding the fact that zoe was just a door or two down from billie’s, but you didn’t care anymore. you couldn’t. the way billie was fucking you made it nearly impossible not to scream.

it seemed like her whole demeanor changed because she slowed down a little and placed sloppy kiss all over your cheeks and forehead as she thrusted deeply into you, the imitative cock filling your tight pussy up to the brim. billie lovingly held you now, “i know you wanna cum, princess— it’s okay, cum for me, wanna see your pretty face while you do it, too.”

it’s like she knew before you did, because as soon as the words left her mouth, you felt your second orgasm incoming, making you gasp. it felt much more powerful than the first, and you bucked your hips irregularly as you chanted billie’s name like a broken record, “i’m cumming, bil— mmph! i…i’m…”

“shh, it’s okay, i know it baby…i know how good it feels. tell mommy how good it feels.” billie whispers at you, and you offer her nothing but little whimpers as you came down from your high, still riding her cock slowly to fully finish you off.

when you finally settle down, billie pulls out of you, putting the strap away and returning with a washcloth and water for you. she makes you lay down even though you assure her that you can take care of yourself, wiping away at your pussy and inner thighs. she gives you a kiss and then continues her task, and when she’s finished, she lays beside you and cuddles up to you, skin to skin.

“you did so good, pretty girl. don’t worry, you’re always gonna be my good little girl.”

[moonlightrafe]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ 18+ MDNI

The sun had began to set and the temperature had finally dropped below the 70’s on Kildare Island. The weather change had everyone feeling festive— kooks and pogues alike. Enjoying the slight change of weather, you had your window open as you were getting ready for the evening.

Your boyfriend, being the wonderful decision maker he was, decided the best time for you to meet his family would be at their annual Christmas party.

You were dreading it, of course. You hadn’t heard anything particularly good about The Cameron’s, especially Ward.

Desperate for their approval, you spent all afternoon trying to figure out an appropriate outfit. Red felt too predictable, anything with fur felt like you were trying too hard, sequins were too much.

You ended up choosing a black mini dress with a white trim on top, paired with black stockings and matching pumps. The dress accentuated your curves wonderfully, but was still modest.

If the Cameron’s had any doubt that you had class before meeting you, you hoped that at least your choice in outfit would help to change their minds.

Once you heard the engine of Rafe’s truck in your driveway, you gave yourself one final look in the mirror before heading out to him. This was it, no turning back now.

The strong scent of cigarette smoke and Rafe’s Dior cologne hit your senses as you opened up the door. He looked and smelled delicious.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted you, offering a shy smile.

“Hi, you look great.”

“You too, babe. Wow.”

You found yourself unable to stop your nerves, anxiously bouncing your leg until Rafe suddenly slammed his palm down on it, gripping at the flesh of your thigh.

“Baby, you gotta chill, aight? It will be fine.”

“You don’t know that!” You snapped at him, your nerves getting the best of you.

Without another word, he just pulled off the main road into a random lot, quickly putting his truck in park.

“What are you doing? We’ll be late to the party.”

“Relax, can I not admire how gorgeous my girl looks? Fuckin’ stunning,” he all but snarled at you before running his palm along the upper part of your thigh— his touch more gentle than the minutes before. You let out a sigh at his words, your cheeks flushed at his compliments.

His large hand made it’s way up, skimming your ribcage over your right breast. You let out a small moan as he squeezed it harshly, kneading at the sensitive flesh. Anticipation pooled in your belly.

You let out a gasp as he forced your thighs apart.

After he hitched your dress over your waist and pulled your stockings and panties down in one swoop, he left you no time to protest; Rafe worked not one, but two fingers inside of you. Quickly finding your most sensitive spots. Your body trembled as familiar heat started to bloom within you. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. The thrill of possibly getting caught added an exciting edge to it all, heightening your senses and making every touch more intense.

With each thrust of his fingers, fire burned within you. As his slender fingers worked their magic, pleasure radiated through your body, causing your breath to hitch and your toes to curl. Your mind went blank as you surrendered to the intense sensation, reveling in the pleasure.

You moaned loudly as your orgasm ripped through you. Rafe watched intently, his own jaw slack as your cunt clamped down around his fingers, soaking them in your release as you did so.

“Feeling better?” he asked, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“Yes,” you giggled shyly as he pulled his fingers from your core, “thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he replied, as he brought his digits to his lips, sucking your release off of them.

“Now, would you relax? I promise they’re going to love you,” he said before pausing for a moment, “not as much as I do, of course.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. He had never told you he loved you before.

“Rafe Cameron, did you just say you love me?”

“Something like that.”

You playfully hit his arm before leaning in to kiss him.

“Well… I love you, too,” you mumbled between kisses.

“Yeah?”

“Something like that.”

[ellecdc]

Okay after many many thoughts I think I've got it!

Barty showing up to the gryffindor quidditch after party (cause James and Sirius are great players and know what they're doing) bloody and bruised cause he overheard some butthurt slytherins talking shit about James and their girl. And he wasn't gonna let that slide.

I'm not sure if it's clear, but this is in regards to the darksun x reader were talking about yesterday 😅

oooooooof ok.......*throws this at you all and runs* NEW SHIP ALERT: I'm new to this, be nice to me hahahahaha

poly!darksun x fem!reader at a bloody Gryffindor afterparty

CW: Barty shows up bloody and bruised but he's chuffed about it, reader won't stop slapping Peter [it's not that serious], Sirius is not that serious -> pairing = james potter x reader x barty crouch jr

It had been perhaps only 25 minutes since the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw game ended and the afterparty in Gryffindor tower was already in full swing.

And what Remus meant by full swing was that Sirius was literally swinging from the chandelier, Marlene and Lily were challenging one another to a game of ‘who could spin the most times without getting sick’ (which Remus felt was a game that everyone was going to lose), and you and Peter were halfway through a very intense muggle card game called slap which did indeed involve slapping and, apparently, swearing and trash talk. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” Peter muttered as he rubbed the back of his hands dejectedly.

“Gonna have to be faster than that, Wormy.” You taunted as you collected his pile of cards.

“Oi, if she has so much as one welt on the back of her hand, Pete; there will be hell to pay.” James called as he came up behind you.

You turned to look at James then, and Remus was sure your smile was nearly blinding in your excitement and energy if James’ lovesick look was anything to go by.

“Yeah, yeah Prongs; she’s sodding winning by a landslide anyways, no need to get your knickers in a twist.” Peter muttered (rather petulantly for only having lost a round of a silly card game if you asked Remus).

“I don’t think it’s Prongs you have to worry about, my dear Wormy.” Sirius called from his new home in the chandelier, nodding towards the entrance as Barty stepped through the portrait hole. 

Remus watched as both you and James seemed to melt now that your third was here. He knew that it hadn’t been easy persuading Barty to participate in such “Gryffindorian displays of pompous pride” as he had called it, but you had somehow been able to convince him to celebrate the team’s wins if not only for James’ sake. 

And, as Sirius would pretend, maybe a little bit for his sake as well. Remus didn’t have the heart (nor the patience) to tell him that was a fat chance. 

“I’m not afraid of Junior.” Pete muttered darkly as he watched you reset the game in front of them. 

“Circe’s tits…perhaps you should be, Pete.” Sirius bit out through a grimace, causing the group to all turn their attention to the Slytherin boy.

Remus wasn’t exactly sure what the Slytherin practice was when getting ready for a celebratory quidditch afterparty, but based on Barty’s current state, it seemed that ritual consisted of at least one fist fight with a particularly angry hippogriff.

“What happened?” You nearly shrieked as you abandoned your card game and you and James made for your boyfriend. 

Barty let out a breath before he broke out into a smile. “Sorry I’m late! Had to take care of something on my way here.”

Remus was sure that the way Barty was grinning at the two of you had to be horribly painful for the busted lip he was currently sporting as his teeth quickly turned a pinky/red colour. 

“And what were you taking care of? A graphorn?” James asked incredulously as you guided Barty to a stool in order to fuss over him.

“Don’t be daft, James. There’s no graphorns in Hogwarts.” Barty waved him off, eyes moving to you as you assessed his face.

“Who did you run into, Barty?” You pressed; voice taking a no-nonsense tone that had Peter and Remus sharing a nervous look. 

“Just some Ravenclaws who were a little disappointed by the end of today’s match, is all.” He offered happily; pulling you closer towards him from where you were standing between his legs by the back of your thighs, watching you adoringly as you summoned a cloth to dab at his lip. 

“That’s all, is it?” You deadpanned, clearly not buying his story.

“I hardly think you were too fussed over some comment about quidditch scores, Barty.” James chided lovingly. 

“Of course I did! I love quidditch.” Barty spat defensively. 

“Yeah, but you hate the Gryffindor team.” Sirius called from his chandelier. 

“That’s not true! I’m shagging the captain for Salazar’s sake.”

“Okay, well…maybe don’t shout that?” You muttered as you looked around in embarrassment, earning a bark of laughter from James as he rubbed your shoulders consolingly. 

“I don’t know, bubs; I don’t see you risking showing up late and bloody over discourse on match scores.” James continued, clearly finding this more amusing than you were as you angrily cast a glacius on a cup and held it to Barty’s jaw which was quickly purpling in colour. 

“Okay, perhaps they said a few other things; it’s no big deal.” Barty offered dismissively, though Remus (and likely you and James) noticed the way that his grip seemed to strengthen on your thighs at his admission.

“Yeah? Like what?” You encouraged. 

Barty let out a defeated sigh as he finally turned his gaze to you. “You know I don’t like people talking about you; either of you.” He admitted quietly. 

You shook your head in disappointment but let out a sympathetic sigh.

“Wait, what’d they say about our girl?” James said then, craning his neck around you in order to look at Barty pointedly.

“It doesn’t matter Jamie! It appears he’s already taken care of it, yeah?” You hissed as you swatted at him with the cloth that you had been tending to Barty with. 

James quickly caught the end of the cloth and used it to pull you into him, planting a smacking kiss to your face. 

“I did take care of it!” Barty repeated excitedly. “Can I have a kiss?” He asked sweetly, smiling at you expectantly as you rubbed James’ kiss off of your cheek. 

“Absolutely not.” You grumbled as you ignored his disbelieving scoff.

“Why not!?” He cried out as you stepped out from between his legs.

“Barty, I am not rewarding you for bad behaviour.” You declared as you plopped yourself down in front of Peter again, ordering him to reset your card game. 

James quickly looked between the two of you before stepping between Barty’s legs to give him his own kiss.

“You are such a simp, James Potter.” Remus taunted under his breath as to not alert you to your boyfriend currently enabling your other boyfriend.

“Yeah, yeah; laugh it up now. But I get to watch you try to wrestle Pads out of the chandelier later, so I don’t think you have a leg to stand on, Moons.” 

“He can sleep up there tonight, for all I care.” Remus muttered petulantly as he crossed his arms.

Sirius wouldn’t sleep up there tonight; Remus knew it, James knew it, Sirius knew it, likely the whole bloody school knew it. But Remus would pretend he wasn’t as big a simp as James Potter, at least a little bit longer, in order to preserve what little superiority he held for the time being.

[thevirtualvalentine]

TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS — OSAMU MIYA

content warnings: smut, mentions of voyeurism (suna is just there for the ride), possessive language and toxic behaviors, f!reader, situationships, oral (giving and receiving), mind numbing flirting & witty banter, creampie, he calls you a slut twice, you’re both kinda shitty. 🤷🏾

plot: as usual, atsumu has brought another “friends with benefits minus the friend” home. but unusually, osamu can’t stand the thought of you together, even suna agrees, right?

a/n: tv girl referenced! something evil took over me when writing this, I’m getting uninvited from so many miya birthday parties omg … T_T enjoy this 4.6k word vom.

Osamu never thought being roommates with his own twin could get any worse than when they were young boys sharing a bunk bed. Atsumu was never the type to return clothes he borrowed and certainly was the type to eat food sharpied with someone else’s name. What was Osamu’s, by extension, was Atsumu’s. He loved his brother and would yield to his selfishness because that’s just how things were.

Lately, however, Atsumu has been seeing someone, more and more frequently. Going as far as replacing his other quick fucks between practices for you. Osamu can understand why, you’re witty, unbelievably sexy, and far too sophisticated to be a fuck laid by Atsumu whenever he sends a quick “come over” text.

This matter has perplexed everyone in Atsumu Miya’s circle, questions raise on how he even managed to get your attention. “Yer all just mad it’s me she wants,” the cheeky bastard says with a toothy grin. To that, he’s not wrong.

That’s how Osamu and Suna have ended up here, with their ears to the door trying to understand what you possibly could be getting in fair exchange. “You fuckin’ love it don’t you baby,” Atsumu says to you in a tone dripping with confidence. It makes both their stomachs churn thinking of someone so beautiful with a guy like that…

“I just can’t believe this,” Suna dramatizes, he really wants to aid his friend but with each passing second of skin slapping against skin — he doesn’t know how much longer Osamu can take it. The Miyas are .. rather possessive, especially him.

“Mhm hm! Love it ‘Tsumu your dick is so good!” It’s downright pornographic how honey-sweet you sound, it just has to be fake.

“Rin, we both know Atsumu can’t fuck women that good. Tell me I still have a chance,” he’s delusional and he knows it, but the small sliver of hope keeps him desperately chasing after what’s not his.

“You’re crazy,” he snickers, almost pitying his friend for how hard he is beneath his pants. “One Miya is trouble enough, but two? She’ll be running for the hills.”

That’s all Osamu needed to set his plot into motion, he’ll just have to steal you away from him — his own brother.

It’s a quiet Sunday morning in the apartment, you roll out of Atsumu’s huge bed to make yourself coffee like you usually do when you stay over. Bless his heart but you and your newest fuck could not be any more different, he’s a late sleeper, overconfident, and to top it all off he’s not the greatest lay. You weren't sure how you ended up sleeping with a volleyball player.

But, he is undeniably handsome, which is how you found yourself in his bed. Shoving those thoughts aside, you slip into the hallway in nothing but one of his oversized shirts making your way to the kitchen. “Mornin’, coffee’s on the table.”

His voice startles you from your half-awakened stupor and you realize it’s just Atsumu. How sweet, he’s never done something like this for you before. You rub your sleepy eyes as you take a sip from the warm mug, hold on. You just left his bed, how could he be here?

Dark brown hair and cold grey eyes meet yours and instantly you know who this man is. “Oh- I’m so sorry Osamu, it didn’t register to me that you’d be here today.” You panic, trying to cover yourself up with something but he just laughs you off while drinking from his own cup.

Osamu Miya, the twin brother and (elusive) roommate of Atsumu. “You’re fine pretty, just enjoy the coffee. Let me know if you want any breakfast with it.” Once a month Osamu closes his shop in preparation for a big rice delivery from Kita, he’s just happened to catch you alone in his living room.

Involuntary heat rises to your face at his choice of words, you haven’t been formally introduced on account of the fact your relationship with his brother isn’t serious but you don’t mind his informal greeting. “So the rumors are true, you’re a chef?” you query, setting your mug down on a table closest to your seat.

God. The lilt in your voice makes him shudder and swallow hard, not to mention that the fat of your thighs peek out from under your shirt when you cross your legs. You aren’t aware of this, but that’s his shirt Atsumu has yet to return — but right now he’ll let that go — he gets to see you wear it.

“Mhm, it seems I can’t deny the allegations. Mostly onigiri though. Sorry to disappoint.” He can’t help himself but to flirt with you, his twisted infatuation morphing into a crush now that he’s immersed himself in the real thing. The soft glow of the morning light makes you appear like an angel on his couch.

“Well Mr. Chef, don’t hurt yourself trying to make bacon and eggs,” you muse. While he may be as handsome as Atsumu, he’s different; calmer, wittier, and more adept at ordinary life skills from the looks of it. This man, you reckon, is the sole reason why your sneaky link even has a proper roof over his head.

The conversation flows naturally between you as he prepares the needed ingredients. It ranges from work to his restaurant then back to you again, you find yourself laughing at his jokes and feeling much more comfortable in the apartment than before. There's a certain chemistry that seems to occur between you.

It continues like this for a while, Osamu finding reasons to be at the flat instead of his restaurant so that he may spend time with you, chatting you up over breakfast that he’s prepared. Flirtatious remarks beneath the guise of innocent conversation.

It feels wrong, coming over for one man hoping to see another the next morning, the worst of all being that they have the same face. Yet, they could not be any more contrasting. Where Atsumu forces your submission in his bedroom - Osamu rightfully earns it by tending to you. Sometimes when you look up between your lashes you wish it was dark hair you were seeing instead of platinum.

It’s another quiet Sunday morning in the Miya’s apartment. Your feet feel light as you make your way down the hallway to see him, Osamu. It’s inexplicable to you why there seems to be more cadence in your step with each strut forward, and on queue there he is. Alluring as he sits on the couch in his compression tee.

The same relaxed smile and soft tone, “Mornin’ sweetness, your coffee’s on the table.” You scoop the mug up as you plop down on the forgiving cushion next to him.

“This isn’t a sound business practice, aren’t owners supposed to open their restaurant?” You’re quick to start this morning, craving the stimulating conversation you can only find in him - like he’s some sort of haven amongst the rubble that is your situationship. The guilt does gnaw at you, making the coffee taste even more bitter than usual.

It’s what he’s been waiting for, the foundation begins to crumble and like your hero, he’ll swoop in. “Yes, but lately I’ve been hired as a private chef. The clientele is rather demanding of me if you can believe that,” he retorts while deadpanning in your direction. When he looks at you it feels like you’re bare for his eyes alone. Those cool tone grey eyes that know exactly what you are.

It leaves a lump in your throat that makes it difficult to talk. He continues between sips of his coffee, “she only requests bacon and eggs when I could give her so much more.” It makes your blood rush trying to see through his act, is it literal or innuendo? Nevertheless, you dance around each other avoiding the inevitable for a taste of limbo.

“What’s on the menu then?” You’re content to shove the ball back on his side of the court, intent on making him reveal his cards in a full flush.

The air in the room suffocates you, what seems like a quick conversation plays in slow motion. You’ve always been one to play coy, guarding your heart with quick jabs and humor. He indulges you, plays the game, the one of the cat and the mouse.

But the Miya’s are not coy, not by a long shot. “You.” It’s simple and effective, and he doesn’t miss the hitch in your breath when you realize he’s both literal and figurative.

During this long winded plot of his, Osamu has purposely avoided the topic of Atsumu all together. He doesn’t want to feed the green in his vision, doesn’t want to think of the consequences, he just wants you. Desperately.

It’s like your brain's shut down, the truth is right here in your face but it’s flustering. You’ve won, but why does it feel like you’ve lost? “I— Osamu,” you start, but you just can’t meet his gaze.

“Face it, when you’re with him you’re thinking of me.” The shame washes over you and becomes a pit of despair in your stomach. Your hands bunch the fabric of Atsumu’s shirt as you sit there and face the truth for yourself. The ugly, raring, and raw truth: that you want his hands to roam the canvas of your body, that it’s his lips you want seared into your flesh, that it’s his room you wish you were going into during the wee hours of the night. Not Atsumu’s.

He’s in front of you now, his broad shoulders casting a dubious shadow over you. “Tell me — right here n’ now — that you don’t want me and I’ll leave you alone.” But still, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. To be met with that face.

“Osamu, please.” You beg, pawing at his shirt, with tears in your eyes. “Don’t leave,” you feel pathetic, shame eating at you for acting so desperate. You’ve never behaved this way before, not genuinely at least. He drives you crazy, and you’re not willing to let it go so easily.

He thinks he’ll cum in his pants from this little display alone, your honesty and vulnerability fueling his twisted desire. He looks more like his brother than ever before, trademark wicked smirk at the feeling of victory. It’s delightful.

“Shh, pretty thing I’m not gonna quit you,” he says taking your face in his big hand. It’s hot, searing to the touch. The pad of his thumb strokes your plush cheek, “feel what you do to me.”

Osamu takes your hand in his, covering it seamlessly while dragging it up his thigh. He’s hard, incredibly so. It’s almost painful just how bricked he is beneath his pants. “See,” he helps you palm from the base all the way to the tip and you swear you’re dripping onto his couch. He groans softly feeling your delicate hands basically grope him in his shared living room, but fuck does it feel good.

He has to stop himself from grinding into your hand, frantic to finally get some reprieve to this insatiable ache for you. “So, how long,” you ask, not stopping your ministrations.

The air around you has changed, you’ve regained your composure knowing you weren’t alone in your desperation. He hisses when you cup his balls looking for a response, “how long what?”

His face is flushed a wild shade of pink and it’s only heightened by the morning light pouring in through the windows. “Now you want to play coy with me, Osamu Miya? How long have you waited to fuck me behind Atsumu’s back? Was it when he first brought me home,” your hand slides along the fabric smoothly as you rest your head against his hip.

“Maybe it was all those times you made me coffee?” You continue palming him, essentially jacking him off through his pants. “Or maybe when you were listening outside the door?” You squeeze and he lets out a choked whimper.

“Like yer any better slut, jerkin’ me off while you’re under my brothers roof.” He can’t control his tone, country accent raring to go on account of feeling cornered. You make him feel so good he doesn’t want to stop, he’s never been this hard in his life.

You hum, pleased with his response. “Such a nasty mouth for a chef. Do you speak to your customers this way?” He’s pulling himself out of his pants before you get the chance, his tip angry and red, soaked with precious pre.

It makes your mouth water, you’re eye level with his cock and all you want is to make yourself gag on it. “Nah, just the pretty ones with a bratty mouth. So show me what you can do hot stuff.”

Spitting directly on his head you drag the bulb down to his base with your tongue, watching as he shudders from your seated position. You place your hands on either side of his hips as you take him fully in your mouth, lapping the salty taste up trying to replace it with your own. “Dirty lil thing, you do this for him?”

The possession in his voice is palpable but you give him a taste of his own medicine. “Nah, only for the handsome ones who are smartasses,” releasing him from your mouth makes a pop sound. You jerk him in one hand as you belittle him, smiling with spit dribbling down your chin.

He thinks he might be in love with you, isn’t that funny. A woman who can reduce him to mere putty that���s rightfully not his, how raunchy. It makes Osamu’s balls pulse uncomfortably.

You’re a vixen, sent to entice him with your every move and fluid jerk of your wrist. He has to stop now or he’ll cum too fast, he wants this moment to last forever. The way you worship him and his cock, the way your smart mouth makes his head swim, and how warm your hands are on his bare skin.

Osamu Miya has never felt so greedy in his entire life. He hasn’t felt the need to ask anything this demanding of his brother, but what’s Atsumu’s is Osamu’s. Right? What’s a quick fuck to one is a wife to another, and with the way you’re sucking him off he might just have to put a ring on it.

Reluctantly, he pulls himself from your hot mouth before he’s able to spill down your throat. He taps the tip of his cock against your lips insultingly with a grin, “Enough, so damn desperate yer gonna choke on it.”

He’s mean but it excites you, Atsumu has never spoken to you like this only really going through the motions. You can’t help how your pussy clenches involuntarily around nothing nor can you stop the heat from rising to your face as you draw your thighs together. You sit there, staring at each other with bated breaths as the reality of what you’re doing sets in.

But if you thought that was going to deter him, you are sorely mistaken. He practically falls to his knees to get a taste of your lips against his, resting his upper body between your legs on the couch. Osamu groans tasting himself on your tongue as he invades your mouth.

You’re slobbering all over each other in a heated attempt to engulf one another. He grabs the back of your thighs while you wrap your arms around his neck. It’s like months of desperate mutual yearning have come to fruition and neither of you will let up. Not even for air.

You’re not wearing any panties and you’re sure your cunts drooling all over the place as he sucks kisses down your neck and collarbones. “Osamu—” you whine quietly, only for him to hear. His tongue licks and prods at your sensitive skin giving you goosebumps. It’s so hot and heavy you can’t make any sense of yourself just from some simple kisses.

He’s reduced you to nothing with minimal effort, wildly different from other sexual encounters you’ve had. “I need more of you Osamu, please,” and it’s the sweetest words he’s ever heard uttered. You’re absolutely perfect, just for him.

“Of course love, whatever you need.” His hands begin to spread your legs apart as another gush of slick pours out of you from the pet name alone. “I bet he doesn’t even know what to do with this, doesn’t know how to make you feel good like I can.”

If that’s a promise, you need him to fulfill it. His words are heavy in your ears as you watch him take his shirt off, they weigh in your chest threatening to drag you down with him. He spreads your puffy folds apart with his thumb, getting a good look at you and letting out coos of praise. “Yer so fuckin wet I can see it,” he dips into your warmth only slightly, marveling at the slick that coats his fingers.

He eyes them and you try to stop him before he does what you think he’s gonna do. “Don’t do that, it’s nasty,” you say trying to grab his hand.

But he swats you away, appraising the translucent liquid by spreading his fingers apart before sticking them in his mouth. “Mhm, n’ you taste as good as you look.”

He loves this look on you, the horror written all over your face as he sucks them clean. A chef never wastes a proper meal, and he’s still fuckin hungry.

Osamu yanks you down the couch to be as close as possible, he can feel the heat radiating from your cunt with just his face above it. He can tell you’ve never had someone properly eat you out by the way you’re so scared to let him even play around with you, and that lights a fire under his ass.

He dives tongue first into your folds, purposely avoiding the spot you need him the most. The moan you let out is a stark comparison to anything he’s heard from you before, but he can’t have you spoiling the fun already.

So he’ll kiss you instead, forcing you to taste yourself and groan into his maw while his fingers work magic in your cunt. Your nails find purchase in the skin of his back as he holds your leg open with one hand and slides his middle finger inside you with another. He pulls back, gauging your reaction for any discomfort as he works it in and out of your sopping heat.

“So messy for me baby, god I love it,” but he’s not looking at you, he’s looking at where his finger slips inside you; making you watch as his knuckles disappear before sliding in another.

The second digit proving to be a stretch for you as you cry into his mouth about how good it feels, “so good ‘samu, just a little faster.”

That’s when he curls them upwards, toying the rougher patch of your g-spot with the pads of his middle and ring finger. The force at which you try to close your legs and dig your nails into his skin lets him know he’s in the right place. “Gotta stay quiet sweetheart, can ya do that for me?”

You don’t know how you could be, with the way he’s listening to your body he’s managed to play its perfect tune. But you nod, covering your mouth with your hand obediently as he descends between your legs again.

Finally, he pays mind to your puffy clit. Giving it kitten licks while his fingers are still making a sloppy mess of you down below. He groans sending vibrations through you in the act of suckling your bud between his lips.

It’s muffled, but he can hear you chanting his name as he throughly wrecks you with just his mouth and hands. It causes white hot pleasure to settle in the belly of you as you writhe and try and to run away from it. He won’t let you, forcing your legs apart even wider.

You’re cumming on his fingers before you even know it. Leaving red welts on his shoulder as you go limp on the couch. “Just keep cumming for me pretty. Let go,” his low calm voice centers you when you begin to twitch against your will.

You’ve rarely ever truly came when fucking Atsumu, but Osamu has you pleading for mercy as he thumbs your clit through the aftershocks.

He lets you catch your breath, helping you remove the oversized shirt from over your head. “Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” he says while thumbing your chin, and kissing your tits tenderly. His eyes reassure you from between the valley of your breasts.

You’re appreciative of his masked concern, “then stop talking, and start doing.” The fight in you is exactly why he wanted you in the first place.

“To think this gorgeous pussys been wasted,” he tsks. “Don’tcha worry yer pretty head baby, I’ll fuck that attitude outta ya.” He stands up, removing the rest of his clothing and putting you on the couch how he wants you. Obviously, he was going to go for missionary, all so that you could see him in the act of claiming you as his own.

You know you’re in trouble with Osamu when he slips into his country accent, it’s involuntary but it’s his true nature. You’re placed onto your back by his big arms, most likely from carrying heavy bags of rice everyday at his job. You can’t help but ogle at the thin layer of sweat that coats him, and he smiles. So charming.

He begins by lining himself with your entrance, teasing the ring of muscle with the tip of his cock. It makes you whine, needy for more but he won’t just take you. No, he uses your pussy to lube himself up. “For fucks sake ‘Samu just put it in please,” you think using a nickname on him will work like it does with Atsumu.

But Osamu is in control of himself and his desires (for the most part), he’ll rut his hips into your sticky labias, running over your sensitive clit with the underside of himself. “So needy, jus’ watch” he tilts your chin downwards to make you gaze at where your bodies nearly meet.

He’s going to break you before anything else. The sight is turning you on beyond belief, his body tensing and releasing with every slow drawl of his lazy hips. “How bad d’ya want me? Tell me n’ I’ll fuck you slut.”

The way in which he carries himself warns you to not mess with him, submit. It’s all in his face, the restraint, the power, the control. You want to break down and beg him for everything so that he may see you for what you truly are in those grey eyes. “I think about you every time I come over here, every time you’ve poured me coffee or made my eggs I’ve wanted you. ‘Samu I need you s’bad please..”

You feel him physically twitch and groan lowly at your confession. He wasn’t expecting all that but it certainly does stroke his ego. Osamu pinches your nipple slightly as he grins. “Yeah baby, you wish it was me touchin’ you,” its rhetorical. He’ll reward you though, ‘fer bein so damn good’.

He feels heavenly entering you, it makes your toes curl when you hear him sigh into a slow pace. He takes his time with you, working you up to fully enjoy your experience with him. “You feel so good, fuck.. n’ your pussy’s so warm,” he says while tightening the grip on the back of your knees.

Everything is hitting you at once and it’s getting hotter by the second, your heavy breaths hitting his face as you accept him in full. It’s a snug fit and the curve of him feels just right in your walls, fuck you need him closer.

“I want you,” is all that comes out between soft whimpers. And he obliges, folding you in half and guiding your arms to hang around his shoulders. He feels so deep inside you that you can’t even see straight. His face is red with his brows drawn together in pleasure.

You try and keep quiet but the muffled sound of skin against skin keeps ringing in your ears along with the slosh of your cunt. “Lettin’ me pound you raw too, should just let me have ya. I know I’m fuckin’ you better than him.”

His words are like fire on your skin, burning you from the inside out. Your walls flutter and convulse around him as he snickers. It registers that you can feel all of him and you whine. The flood gates threaten to spill.

“I— Osamu s’good, oh my god!” He revels in the fact it almost sounds like you’re in pain from how much satisfaction you’re feeling, because of him. It’s his name you’re wailing, not Atsumu’s.

You dig your nails deeper, certain to draw blood as you're needy more of him. The band in you is threatening to snap. He’s close too, quickening the rate at which he barrels into you. Reaching deeper and deeper as he makes eye contact with you. It’s so intimate that you feel yourself succumbing.

“Where do you wan’ it baby,” his eyes are glossed over with lust and his voice thick with desire. There’s only one place you want him, inside.

It’s like music to his ears, he’s spilling his seed in hot thick ropes as he stills himself balls deep inside you. You unravel, biting your lip as you squeeze him tighter than a vice, he’s groaning and shallowly pumping into your shaking form.

You never knew missionary on a sofa could feel so fucking good, he looks at you with such care in his eyes that you melt.

Osamu helps you clean up, apologizing for the frothy ring of cum on his base and the mess that pours out of you. He’s "a sucker for a cream pie" is what he tells you.

Things between you couldn’t remain as they were, you both knew that know after you practically devoured each other right down the hall from Atsumu’s room.

He brings you to his space, letting you shower and wipe yourself down (not without groping your curves between steps). You talk about what you should say or how to even go about it over breakfast he made, but this time you're wearing his shirt.

It’s safe to say Atsumu was not pleased losing one of his favorite fucks, but in some weird way he’s not completely pissed. He’s never seen Osamu so fucking selfish n' greedy before, so he must be pretty serious about you. In time he’ll forgive him, even swing by the restaurant to see you two.

“How’s it feel havin’ my seconds,” he’ll taunt behind your back to Osamu when you’re not around. Jutting his elbow into his brothers side.

Osamu rolls his eyes, “still bitter it’s my cock she’s begging for every night I see. Get better soon.” He knows you’re happier with him, sending a hardened look at Atsumu.

They both smile as you approach the table with snacks, dropping whatever argument as you greet them. “Hello Miya and better Miya.”

Osamu snickers, kissing your left hand with his engagement ring on it. Atsumu just grumbles under his breath. “Hello Mrs. Miya,” they both say in unison.

[erwinsvow]

“rafe, i want a soda,” you tell your boyfriend from your comfortable seat, settled under your blanket waiting for the movie to start. rafe’s talking to kelce and topper about something quietly, adjusting his backwards cap and staring straight ahead—at people you recognize as the pogues he’s been terrorizing as of late. you rise from your position, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. kelce and topper stop talking, getting into their chairs when rafe turns to talk to you.

“yes, princess? what now?” 

you should be good—rafe always tell you to keep your nose out of his business stuff, especially when he’s making his rounds at a party trying to sell coke. you usually always comply anyways, not asking questions since the first time and not caring either, as long he swears he’s safe and not doing as much of the stuff as he used to—but this isn’t about his business. you can tell there’s something going on with those pogues and he’s planning something that you want to make him stop.

“movie’s starting. and i want a soda.” 

“kelce, give her your soda,” rafe says, turning back around to finish his conversation, when you interrupt. you shake your head at kelce, who holds the pepsi can in his hand, stopping right as he was about to toss it to you.

“it’s not diet, rafe,” you comment with a sweet smile, hoping you can distract him from whatever he’s trying to talk about with his boys.

“really kid? i think you’ll be fine-”

“please, rafe?” you interrupt again, pouting. he shouldn’t have given up so easily—but your pout is one of those things he can’t resist. 

“pain in my ass, kid, really.” you smile at rafe, thanking him while he grumbles. “you better sit tight and watch this stupid movie after this-”

“popcorn too! do you guys want anything?” you turn, asking kelce and topper.

“all good, thanks princess.” you crinkle your nose and turn back, not really liking it when anyone but rafe addresses you like that—it feels like a joke when they say it.

rafe comes back with your stuff, handing it to you with a roll of his eyes, but you notice he’s smiling when you thank him. you curl up next to him on the same chair, head on his chest trying to watch the movie. you notice he’ll turn to look at kelce and topper, and then the pogues sitting ahead of you. 

each time he starts looking, you try to distract him, bringing your straw or a piece of popcorn up to his mouth, and then he looks down at you instead, with a sweet smile and a kiss to the top of your head. 

you should have guessed it would only work for so long—the two pogue boys get up and the three boys with you rise instantly too. in a desperate attempt to keep him with you, you drop the soda onto the grass and call to your boyfriend before he gets too far.

“rafe, uhm, this spilled so i need a new one-”

“one minute, princess, i’ll be right back-”

“no, rafe, wait-” but he’s gone before you can say or do anything else.

you sit in the lawn chair, too distracted to focus on the movie, worried about what rafe is gonna do to them. it’s only a few minutes later that you hear screaming, and look up to see the entire projector screen aflame. you get up immediately, panicking at the horde of people trying to get away, when you take a step backwards and bump into something hard. you yelp, but familiar hands hold you hard and guide you out back to the parking lot, hands that can only belong to your boyfriend.

you don’t get a clear look at rafe until he parks at tannyhill—a pink and red lesion on his cheek that wasn’t there before. 

“rafe, your face-”

“kid, why d’you think i’m trying to take care of business with these pogues? huh?” you’re silent, not able to compose any kind of answer that would make sense. 

“i-i don’t-”

“exactly. you don’t know. these, these pogues? they’re fuckin’ crazy. they held a gun to top’s head. they set that fire, not carin’ who would get hurt.” he watches you stare at him with big eyes and parted lips, taking in everything he’s saying. he knows it’s a little manipulative, not giving you any context or telling you he caved in pope’s face with a nine-iron. you’re listening, and paying attention, finally. “let you get away with a lot of stuff, kid. don’t make me regret it.” 

like he doesn’t know why you make him go buy soda or try to distract him with a kiss at the beach or at the club. he brushes it aside because he likes to let you think you’re getting away with it.

“have you learned your lesson about interferin’?” you nod eagerly. “good girl. now c’mon.” he takes you upstairs to his bedroom and lets you apologize down on your knees.

“good fuckin’ girl-” is what comes out of rafe’s mouth when you settle infront of him, on your knees, hands unbuckling his belt. he repeats it, but it comes out as a grunt when you take him into your mouth, big, watery eyes staring up at him while you impale your throat with his thick cock. he wipes the tears away with his free hand, the other one gripping your hair while he slides your mouth up and down with his motions.

“that’s right, nothin’ to say now, huh? good girl, don’t worry, i’ll forgive you. you gonna meddle again? hm?” he pulls you off, your mouth letting go with a little pop sound. 

“no, no, never again-”

“good girl,” and he brings your mouth right back.

[misctf]

I’m a Latino twink and I just got accepted into Alpha Delta Alpha but my fraternity brothers have been acting weird around me and I’ve overheard them talking about their “lost brother” and how something is “an abomination and needs to be fixed” there’s a party tonight and they’ve lent me some clothes I don’t want to wear them in case it’s some kind of prank

“Are you all fuckin’ serious?” Garrett Thompson cursed angrily, “Bros, what the actual fuck were you thinkin’?

“Dude, we tried our best!” One of his bros replied.

“Yeah! It wasn’t fuckin’ easy, bro.”

Garrett groaned and rubbed his temples. How could this be happening? How could... He figured it must’ve started at last year’s rager. One day, he’s a party animal. Lady’s man. Campus stud. Fuck, he lived quite the life. Then suddenly he’s a ghost. Some kind of accident. Total tragedy. Trapped between this world and the next. Just wandering around campus. Unseen, unheard, and worst of all- unable to get off. Months passed and as he wandered the frat house...

“Yooo bruh...” Jamie saw him, his eyes red from smoking weed, “Garrett is that you? So good to see you man.”

After months of not being seen, Garrett couldn’t believe it. Of course the stoner bro would make first contact. And Jaime- all too willing to delve into the occult- quickly started doing his research. Telling the other frat bros about Garrett.

“Dudes, hear me out.” Jaime slurred one night, “I know how to bring Garrett back.”

Garrett watched their plan unfold. Jaime rambling about some kind of magic and finding the perfect vessel. They would need some kind of anchor for Garrett’s spirit. He watched as they rummaged through old bins in their frat house and found his old jersey and clothes. Apparently getting some poor dumbass to wear his clothes would be all he needed to rejoin the living. But then things stalled. No one wanted to join Alpha Delta Alpha after Garrett’s accident. And no one wanted to wear some dead guy’s clothes. So, Garrett started to lose hope. Until...

“No fuckin’ way.” Garrett had thought when he saw you join the frat, “Bros!” He tried to yell, “You can’t let some fairy join! Dudes!”

But it was too late. When you joined, the frat was clearly uncomfortable. You weren’t exactly their ideal applicant. Lean and gay, you were certainly a first for Alpha Delta Alpha. And if the plan failed... well they’d be stuck with you... But it wasn’t just that. Some felt uncomfortable with the true purpose of you joining. Jaime’s plan was seen as an abomination by a few of them. But you largely ignored both the weird feelings you got and strange conversations you’d overhear tidbits of. Besides, they were your brothers.

And so when they came to you with some old clothes and told you to wear them, you did just that. After some initial hesitation, you stripped and picked up a jock strap. It was dirty, and carried a stale smell of sweat and cum. You cringed as you slowly pulled it up your legs, securing it around your cock and bubble butt.

“Fuck yeah.” Garrett said, watching you from the corner of the room. He grinned as he floated over and placed a hand on your cock, his eyes widening. It was brief, but he could actually feel the cloth of the jockstrap.  

You turned to inspect the other clothes, shifting uncomfortably at the sensation from your dick. Your tan cock started to lighten in color, becoming white with a thick, pink head. And as your bubble butt lost its padding and became thick with muscle, your cock started to grow. Inch after inch, it eventually settled on 5 inches soft. But you barely noticed these initial changes as you pulled up the basketball shorts. As they traversed your legs, the melanin in your skin broke down, turning your legs white. But it wasn’t just your skin that was changing. A forest of wiry leg hairs burst forth into existence, covering your now increasingly muscular calves and thighs. And as the shorts settled on your waist, you let out a moan.

“Fuck, he’s really enjoin’ this.” Garrett mumbled, watching as your muscular ass made contact with the bed, “Of course he is. Becomin’ a real fuckin’ man.” He grinned and sat next to you. His ghostly hand on your leg, “It’s basically jerking off.” He reassured himself as he wrapped his hand around your new cock.

You let out a moan as your cock hardened and bulged in your pants. You were always a bottom, rarely caring much about your cock. But now? Fuckkkkkkk.... It felt so good. Your mouth was agape, drool pooling as pleasure overwhelmed your brain. You hadn’t felt pleasure like this since you bottomed last. And in your haze, you looked down to see a hand. A ghostly hand.

“What?” Your eyes widened when you saw Garrett, “Oh fuck!”

Garrett pulled his hand away, “Dude! Shit! You can see me?” He could see the terror in your eyes, that only seemed to grow when he noticed his legs, “Okay, bruh... just chill.”

“No, no, no!” You say, “I...I...!”

“Stop fuckin’ talking and put the shirt on, bro.” Garrett insists, “Dude...” He grinned as he floated over to you, “I know you want this.” His hand rubbed up against the bulge in your pants, “You and me bro. Together. Come on.”

You bite your lip and resist letting out another moan. What the fuck was happening to you? What were these clothes doing to you? Did you want this? It would be nice, right? Would it? What would happen if you put the shirt on? You barely notice that the skin of your torso is becoming whiter. And your muscles are starting to expand. As you consider the possibility of becoming Garrett completely, your body is already moving in that direction. Before you can think more on this, Garrett’s ghost seemingly starts to sink into your body. His eyes are wide at first, he grins as he realizes he's being anchored.

“Wait...” You watch as your arm moves against your will and grabs the jersey, “Ohhhhhhhh....” You moan as your other hand grips your cock and starts to stroke.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and gasp. You look more and more like an Americanized Latino jock. Far from the twink you had been. And you cry out as the jersey is lowered onto your upper body. And as it settles into place, you groan. Muscles expand rapidly, filling out the jersey nicely. Your pecs become shelves- far from the lean musculature that got you compliments from all those tops. Your abs pop into existence, one by one. And you watch as your arms become a beefy mass of ripped triceps and biceps. Bulging with just slight movements. The strength flowing through you is so unfamiliar. So different. So...

“Fuck yeah bruh.” The words leave your lips without any input from your brain. The voice deep and dumb, “Dude, it feels so fuckin’ good to be alive.” You feel as your calloused hands roam your muscles, squeezing your pecs, “Nighty, nighty.”

And you feel yourself fading. Your mind wrapped warmly in thoughts of beer, football, and videogames. God, you couldn't wait to see your team play again. To grind up against someone at the club. What a life you were going to have now. A simplistic life. Garrett’s life. Your life...

Garrett grins as you settle on one identity, “Fuck....” He moans, “If dying meant doing that again...” He chuckles, “Alright, let’s...”

He strokes his cock and finds his favorite porno. Feminine moans fill the room, and Garrett breaths hard. Stroking faster- desperate. Growing frustrated as his cock softens. Not deriving the same pleasure that he used to. His mind wandering to post-game locker room showers. And his teammates' muscular bodies. And slowly, Garrett stops stroking his dick. His eyes start to widen.

“SHIT!”

Now, as he stands around his frat bros, he can’t help but wonder how he could be gay. How could Garrett Thompson, back from the dead, only want a dick up his ass? Garrett shakes his head and sighs. He couldn’t be angry at them... fuck they were so sexy. His eyes roam and he takes in their exposed muscular arms, and cocky grins. He imagines what they might be packing down there. What it might feel like to wrap his lips around their dicks. And his cock starts to stir.

“You good, bruh?”

Garrett snaps back to reality, “Yeah, yeah...” He flips them off, “You’re lucky you’re all so cute, you fuckers.”

The other bros looked at one another, sly grins forming on their faces. After all, Garrett owed them for all the trouble they went through. Right?

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧 (𝐞𝐩𝐬. 𝟓-𝟖) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  dialogue  prompts  taken from episodes 5 - 8  of max's  the  penguin  (2024),  created  by  lauren  lefranc.  feel  free  to  edit  and  change  as  you  seem  fit.. )

❛ you came back. put your ass on the line for me. a hundred maseratis couldn’t replace that. ❜

❛ it’s you and me now, kid. till the end. ❜

❛ you messed with the wrong fuckin' family! my mother, my father, they won’t stand for this... ❜

❛ i want what’s mine. ❜

❛ the cops are looking for you. although i get the sense they’d rather find you dead than alive. ❜

❛ you’re not looking too good. ❜

❛ the fuck is wrong with you? you’re fucking sick. ❜

❛ what kind of person kills their own fuckin’ family? ❜

❛ you think i’m a fuckin’ idiot? the second i do what you want, you fucking kill me. so just fuckin’ do it already. ❜

❛ listen, sweetheart, i know you can’t see it right now, but all this shit goin’ down, it’s a good thing. ❜

❛ nothing’s gonna happen to you. i won’t let it. ❜

❛ all i’m asking is for you to hang tight just a little longer. that’s it. and then it’s you and me on top of the world, baby. ❜

❛ you are a desperate fucking liar. ❜

❛ i got no reason to lie anymore! ❜

❛ god, she was beautiful, your mom. she was so beautiful. she had that laugh. when you got her going, it’d knock you out. ❜

❛ i couldn’t help your mother. let me help you. ❜

❛ i’ll find a place that’s safe. and i’ll call you when i get there, alright? ❜

❛ i’d like to be a part of whatever’s next... if you’ll have me. ❜

❛ if you join me, you will have a new family. and i’ll pay you what you’re worth. more money than you’ve ever seen before. ❜

❛ we had a deal. we look out for each other. we don’t fuck each other over. ❜

❛ you know i’m yours. but right now, i’m just gonna hold you back. ❜

❛ freedom always comes at a cost, doesn’t it? ❜

❛ i’ve come here to end the war between our families. ❜

❛ i am offering you an alliance. we join our families as a show of strength. ❜

❛ bored with me already? ❜

❛ you know, fugitives really shouldn’t leave their rooms. ❜

❛ i wouldn’t have pegged you as a cook. ❜

❛ you want me on your side, right? ❜

❛ if my mind goes before my body’s ready, i need you to help me. you gotta help me die. ❜

❛ i want you to do your fucking job. that’s what i fucking want. ❜

❛ i ain’t talkin’ to you when you’re like this. ❜

❛ you don’t seem surprised to see me. ❜

❛ dressing like this... is this for you or your clients? ❜

❛ i used to lie to men like that. but you don’t have to anymore. you have the power now. ❜

❛ you are good at telling people what they wanna hear. ❜

❛ you were born into opportunity, so you can afford to think in black and white. ❜

❛ but you did come here to kill me, right? ❜

❛ you done the right thing. protected those you care about. ❜

❛ it gets easier. ❜

❛ late to my own party. it’s not a good look, i know. ❜

❛ how about we watch a movie, one of the old ones you like? ❜

❛ it’s a date then. ❜

❛ here, i made your favorite, whiskey and soda. ❜

❛ what i wouldn’t do to get out of here. live in one of them penthouses all the celebrities buy. ❜

❛ that’s just a little taste of what you got comin’. ❜

❛ so, did you bring me here to feed me toast or you gonna kill me? ❜

❛ you hear me? i beat you. i win. ❜

❛ there’s a storm coming. i’m gonna need your help. ❜

❛ is that what you think? that… i would do something… as horrible as that? ❜

❛ you getting any sleep? ❜

❛ it might do you some good to get out of the house. ❜

❛ get dressed. we’re goin’ out. ❜

❛ what do you want? tell me, and i’ll get it. ❜

❛ of course i’m gonna take care of you. i’d do anything for you. ❜

❛ i see you. in ways that other people don’t. ❜

❛ i see the way you smile when you want people to think you’re enjoying something you ain’t. ❜

❛ i see how you smoke more when you’re thinking, and you drink more when you’re sad. ❜

❛ i see how hard you work, how smart you are… and how you wish the people who matter would notice. ❜

❛ no one else believes in you like me. no one else is gonna give you what you deserve. ❜

❛ just don’t give up on me. ❜

❛ you gotta know your place, or you’re gonna catch a bullet. ❜

❛ you’re a disappointment. ❜

❛ you’re the devil. you’re the goddamn devil. ❜

❛ get your shit together and, uh… you know… be you. ❜

❛ all right, you stay put. don’t do anything that might call attention to yourself, all right? ❜

❛ if anybody sees me in here with you, i’m… ❜

❛ what do you say you and me go for a drive? ❜

❛ just like old times, huh? ❜

❛ you got no idea what it feels like, born into nothin’. ❜

❛ you don’t wanna put your gun to my back… make a big show of it? ❜

❛ you have always been a monster. ❜

❛ you’re never gonna find peace, you know that? ❜

❛ you’re going to hell… sweetheart. ❜

❛ i’ll save you a seat. ❜

❛ get some cups. snuck you in a little whiskey to celebrate. ❜

❛ you gotta tell me… just tell me you’re proud of me. ❜

❛ come on. just once. just tell me you’re proud of me. ❜

❛ tell me i did good! ❜

❛ i did it for you! i did it all for you, the whole thing! ❜

❛ you think she forgives me? ❜

❛ you know i couldn’t’ve done any of this shit without you, right? ❜

❛ thanks for taking a chance on me. ❜

❛ you’re family to me. ❜

❛ you and me… it’s all that’s left. ❜

❛ now, i don’t believe in kismet or nothing. but… it’s good that we met. ❜

❛ i can’t bring you with me this time. ❜

❛ that’s the thing about family. it’s your strength. it drives you. but fuck if it don’t make ya weak, too. and i can’t have that no more. ❜

❛ you got a good heart. ❜

❛ it wasn’t for nothin’. ❜

❛ dance with me, sweetheart. ❜

❛ tell me you love me. ❜

❛ tell me you’re proud of me. ❜

❛ i’m so proud of you. ❜

❛ nothing is standing in your way now. ❜

[starkeysprincess]

I definitely see stepbro!rafe spoiling you with all the cute girly things you could ever want, of course including clothes, but he isn’t afraid to be absolutely heartless if he’s upset with you. Let me explain. I am a visionary so there’s details.😌

Ok so he calls you into his room, right? He’s got certain pieces from each outfit you’ve worn over the past week. He explains that since you enjoy his other punishments so much, he has to be more harsh, and these are all the things you’ve worn lately that he deems slutty. He picks up your loveshackfancy skirt you walked around showing the entire country club his ass in, rips it right in half. The for love and lemons milkmaid dress you wore to happy hour that had Topper and Kelce shifting in their seats, torn right down the front, buttons flying everywhere. and he keeps going as you’re standing there crying begging him to stop, until he gets to what might as well be the the Mona Lisa to you; your vintage pink Dior denim miniskirt that as far as you knew, was the last existing one in the world that you had went to the ends of to find.

It was also what you were wearing just last night during Rafe’s party when you were drunkenly dancing on top of the counter, flashing everybody within sight your bare cunt before Rafe hurled you over his shoulder and brought you upstairs to “put you to bed.” He was so beside himself, he told you you’d both deal with it the next day too, and now here you were, about to watch him destroy your most prized possession.

Within a split second you’re trying to run out the door and screaming for Ward, and he yanks you into him by your hair as he claps his hand over your mouth. “Will you shut the fuck up?” You obviously keep fighting and squirming until he turns you around “ALRIGHT ALRIGHT…look, kid, be quiet. I’m not gonna rip it. just don’t get me in trouble and I’ll buy you all new shit. Same stuff. Right now, yeah?” When you nod and sigh in relief he takes his hand off your mouth. You make him promise but he also makes you agree to take an extra punishment “otherwise I’ll rip the shit right in half and you can cry to my dad all you want” and you’re begging and pleading telling him you’ll do whatever he wants, just spare your precious skirt.

“Okay,” He’d say. “Well then you better pray to Dior himself that you can handle an hour of this tonight while everyone’s sleeping” smirking and pulling a magic wand out of his night table. “Fight with me and it’ll be til fuckin’ morning.” All you can do is stare in dread.

nonnie, thank you for being a visionary 🙏🏽

his mean ass would pull this shit and when you’re starting to cry because those are all of your favorite pieces, his dick is twitching in his pants but as soon as you’re trying to run out the room to yell for ward, he’s yanking you back into the room, his chest pressed against your back and covering your mouth, telling you to shut the fuck up

telling him you’ll do whatever he wants is practically fucking music to his ears because that’s exactly what he was hoping you’d say and you know you’re in for it when he pulls out the magic wand, goosebumps littering your skin from the last time he used it on you

[blackelysian]

Situationship.

Duke Dennis x Black! Fem! Reader as Makena

Word Count: 1,449

Warnings: 18+ smut, fluff, toxic relationship

Summary: Tired of this situationship between you and Duke you decide its just better to end things. Duke wants to make it right.

Makena POV

A sigh escaped my lips as I aimlessly scroll through my phone. It was now 3 am and Duke still wasn’t here yet. I sent a text to his phone for the one hundredth time.

                                                                       It's late, don't even worry about coming anymore… Sent.

No reply. Once again.

I watched his story and saw that he posted something 30 minutes ago. He was out with his friends at some party or function with some bitch grabbing his face. At that point I was fed up, annoyed and kinda hurt. I throw my phone to the side and sit up. He’s been blowing me off all night after he told me he was coming over so we could spend some time together. One stop and I'm on my way, I Love you”  was the last response I got from him. Tears streamed down my face. Not only was I mad at him I was mad at myself for even allowing my feelings to get wrapped up in whatever you wanna call this. Duke and I have been messing around for almost a year now but he never officially asked me to be his girlfriend. He helps me with my bills, buys me whatever I want, fucks me good, but there was no actual commitment. He uses the excuse of he doesn’t want to hurt me, but this hurts way worse. My thoughts were interrupted by my phone dinging, indicating I had just got a text. I hover my face over my phone revealing the message from him. 

Im outside

I layed back down on the bed ignoring his text. Next thing I know I hear my front door unlocking.

I groaned annoyingly. I need to get my key back from this nigga. I can hear his feet making their way to my bedroom before he slides my door open, stumbling in. He casually makes his way over to me leaning down to peck me on the lips but he was met with the palm of my hand.

“So you just goin walk in here late as a motherfucka and act like nothing's wrong??” She raised her voice at him.

“Come on boo don’t start that, i'm here now right? That's all that should matter'' He asks nonchalantly, going back in for another attempted kiss. I quickly jumped up and moved around him.

“You know, I don’t think I wanna do this anymore Duke..”I say looking away from him.

“Do what Makena?”

“THIS” I raise my voice again, pointing between the two of us. “This is getting old and I'm tired of sitting around waiting on you to see how good of a woman I am..tired of waiting on you to respect me! I’m done.” I snapped. 

“What do you mean you're done?”

“I'm done, We are done! And you need to give me back my key!” He chuckles at me.

“You trippin’ im not going any fucking where” He simply says, slideing his shoes off.

“Why don’t you just let me go Duke?” I questioned. “Why continue to string me along huh? You don’t want to be with me at this point so what's the point of keeping this going?”

“Makena,You know I love you. I just don't want to hurt you” He states, pulling me in front of him.

“You don’t think this hurts already?” I hold my hand up. “You know what, I just want you to go, i'll give you a minute to get whatever stuff you have here and leave my fuckin key” I turn my back to him not even giving him a chance to respond, heading for the bathroom to take a long, hot shower. I needed to clear my mind and hopefully by the time I got out that asshole would be gone for good.

Omniscient POV

After about 20 minutes, Duke enters the bathroom. He sees Makena’s naked silhouette through the foggy glass shower. He looks over to see her music softly playing from her bluetooth speaker. He quickly strips out of his clothes and slides in the steaming hot shower. The breeze runs a chill down Makena’s spine as he slides the door back closed. 

She quickly turns around. “I thought I told you to go?” She asks, rolling her eyes.

“We not done talking yet” He wraps his arms around her, bringing her body close to his.

“Duke, please don’t do this to me right now. Just let me go and leave” she says, trying to unwrap his arms from around her. He holds her tight.

“What do you want? Whatever you want I’ll give it to you. Just don’t leave me baby” 

“He can’t be serious..” She thought. But with the look on his face she knew this was far from a joke. But she couldn’t give in. What would he think of her if she just took him back so easily? Why now did he want to do the right thing? 

“It's a little too late fo-”

“Be my girlfriend?” He cuts her off, looking in her eyes with adoration.

“Wow really?” She asks sarcastically. “ Now you want to ask me? It's only because I'm telling you I'm done with you that you want to act right now” She says disgustingly, rolling my eyes and pushing him away from her. 

“Baby I'm serious!” He exclaims, grabbing her again. “I can’t lose you, whatever you want me to do I'll do it. I want to make it right, I have to make it right. Give me just one more chance and I promise we won’t have to have this conversation no more”

“I don’t know what to say Duke…” She says lowly, looking down and away from him. He drops to his knees in the oversized walk in shower, grabbing onto her waist. He places gentle kisses along her stomach trailing down to her womanhood. 

“Say yes” He says softly, placing a kiss right on top of her clit. Her breath hitches in her throat. 

“Say yes baby..” He throws her left leg over his shoulder and places a few more kisses on her wet center before completely devouring her. He made sure to take his time pleasing her. He wanted to show her that he meant what he said.

“Duke..no” She trails off, throwing her head back as he lapped her up like a thirsty dog. His thumb finds her clit drawing small circles on it. 

“Be my girlfriend baby” He says again, looking up to watch her love faces. She begins to feel her orgasm build in her stomach as she grinds down on his face. “Shit i'm almost there” She gasps. He stops immediately, getting up and turning off the shower before picking her up and walking her out the shower. 

“You don’t get to cum until you say yes.” He wraps a towel around her wet body, bending her over the sink, the two making eye contact in the mirror. She could see the lust and longing in his face. He rubs his member up and down her slick womanhood before roughly sliding into her in one swift motion. 

“Fuck” she groaned out as he starting to deliver rough,delicious strokes. 

“You goin be my girlfriend baby?” He asks yet again, brushing some of her curls out her face. Her mouth falls open but nothing comes out. He delivers a smack to her ass. “Answer me baby” He groans, going deeper bottoming out. 

“Oh shitt, Yess” She moans out blissfully.

“Say it” He says, pulling out and sitting on the side of the tub, pulling her back on him and sliding in again. He starts to work her up and down his member.

“Say it Makena” He states firmly.

“Ima be your girlfriend babyy” She blurts out.

“Yea?” He says with a smile, kissing you along the side of your face and neck as he still bounces you on him. Makena starts to throw it back on him, pulling out her best moves to show him that it doesn’t get any better than this. 

“Oh fuckk mama” He grunts, grabbing the back of her neck turning her to face him. 

“Gimme kiss” They lean into each other and give each other the sloppiest kiss ever. 

“Hmmm baby im cumming” She cries out, picking up her speed.

“Cum on your dick” His words were like a catalyst for her orgasm, which rips through her like a tornado. He finishes right behind her, pulling out and releasing on the rug. She turns to kiss him once again.

“Mm we not finished yet. I still have a lot of making up to do.” He says with a lustful grin on his face.

A/N: Makena definitely DID NOT stand on business 😭😭

[bkgml]

drunk katsuki!

katsuki hates drinking.

he hates not having a filter on his thoughts. he hates the thought of someone getting injured while he was too drunk to protect them.

though, the thing he hates most right now, is the fact that you’re not beside him. you had to work late tonight and told katsuki to go out with his friends. maybe you’d come later in the night but it’s plausible that you’d be much too tired.

katsuki never let’s himself get drunk.

he’s missing you though. let’s himself have more drinks than he should’ve so he could make up for the fact that you’re not there.

it takes two hours for kiri (tonight’s designated driver) to notice katsukis drunk.

at first glance he looks like his normal self, arms crossed in front of him, frown on his face.

if you take a closer look though, his crossed arms are actually hugging himself and his frown is more of a pout.

“bakubro! what’s up!” he says, making his way over to him.

katsuki lets out a little grumble? whine?? kiri isn’t sure.

“where’s my girl?” katsuki frowns, looking around the bar.

kirishima lets out a little laugh and bakugou glares at him.

“yn’s working tonight, remember? she should be back home by now, but she’s tired, long day.”

“stupid fuckin work. i want her with me.” katsuki pouts, his voice getting softer.

“you’ll see her tomorrow! just enjoy the party tonight!” kirishima attempts to cheer up his friend.

katsuki whips his head in kirishimas direction.

“tomorrow? i won’t see her tonight??” he sounds desperate.

“uh no, bro. first thing tomorrow, promise.”

“i need her now, kiri.” katsuki pleads.

kirishima pauses. when had he ever called him kiri? or begged??

“um i mean i could call her?” kirishima offers.

“yeah! yesyesyeysyes.” he slurs.

you are so tired. you want to go to sleep so bad right now. you were supposed to go to the bar with your friends but, god, you’re so tired.

*incoming call from: kiri*

you groan. that’s probably kiri trying to get you to the bar.

“hey, yn. im sorry if i woke you” he doesn’t sound like his normal cheery self.

“hey, normally you’d be yelling in my ear to get me to party. is everything alright? where’s katsuki?” you say, concerned.

“put it on speakerrrrr.” a distant voice calls to kirishima.

“alright, alright. yn we’re on speaker now.”

you can hear the sounds of the bar in the background, mina and kami squealing at each other, the clanging of beer bottles, the tv in the back with some sports game on it.

“ynnnnnn.” katsuki says, interrupting your train of thought.

“katsuki? are you drunk??” you say, stunned.

“that’s not importanttttt. why aren’t you hereeee, you’re so warm and soft, want you here.” you can practically hear his pout. katsukis never drunk.

“kirishima? why is he drunk?”

“i don’t know, this is new to me. would you pick him up? it doesn’t look like he wants to be here-“

“HEY DONT IGNORE ME!” katsuki shouts.

“hey kiri can you pass the phone to him?”

kirishima does as he’s told.

“babyyyyyy, *hiccup* why aren’t you here with me? want your pretty face beside me all the time.”

“i know, kats, i wanna be with you all the time too. i’m going to come get you okay? you should keep quiet until i get there cause kami’s going to record you if he sees you.” you say to avoid arguments between katsuki and kaminari the following day.

“mmmkay. i’ll always listen to you, pretty. you’re so smart.” katsuki says, dazed.

“okay, bye, katsuki, bye kiri!” you say, grabbing your keys.

when you arrive at the bar you text kirishima to bring katsuki to the car.

a couple minutes go by and kirishima comes out, holding katsuki close beside him.

you get out of the car to meet them.

“yn!!” katsuki cheers.

“hi, kats, did you have too many drinks?”

“nu uh.” he defends.

“here you go.” kirishima says as he gently pushes katsuki to you.

he leans on you, arms around your waist, and face in your neck.

you rub his back.

“hi.” katsuki says shyly, rubbing his nose into your neck.

“hi.” you whisper back.

“thanks a lot, kiri.” you say, grateful for your friend.

“anytime! see you guys!” kirishima waves and turns on his heel, heading back into the bar.

“where do you want to sit katsuki? beside me? or in the back so you can lay down?” you ask.

“wanna sit beside you.” he says, pecking your cheek.

you struggle to get him in his seat, with him not wanting to stop holding you.

“okay, there you go katsuki. i’m just going to go around to my seat, kay?” trying to get him to let go of your arm.

“mmmmmfh. fine.” he huffs, letting go of your arm to cross his own, and turning his head away from you.

you close his door, walking around to your side and getting in.

“hi!” katsuki uncrosses his arms and reaches out to grab you hand.

seems he forgot he was mad.

“hi.” you say, lovingly smoothing his hair.

as you drive home katsuki leans over the console to rest his head on your shoulder.

“we’re home, kats!” you say, excited to get in bed.

“home?” he questions.

“uh huh, come on let’s go inside.” you get out of the car, heading to his door and opening it for him.

he sighs in relief.

“i thought you were going in without me.” he pouts and you laugh.

“without you? never. i need my favourite boy inside with me.” you say and grab his hand, helping him step out of the car.

as you unlock the front door katsuki presses his cheek to your back and holds your waist.

“okay katsuki, can you walk to the bedroom alone? i just want to get you some water.” you say heading to the kitchen.

you grab a glass and pour some water into it. then, you head out past the front hall on your way to the bedroom but you still see katsuki standing in the front hall.

“what’s up, kats, why aren’t you in the bedroom?” you ask.

“don’t wanna go without you.” he pouts.

you laugh.

“okay.” you grab his hand.

“let’s go together then, yeah?” you say, walking to your room hand in hand.

“mmm bed.” katsuki says as you get into your bedroom, flopping onto the bed in his clothes,

“don’t fall asleep yet, katsuki.” you say.

“fine.” he says sitting up.

you give him his glass of water to drink.

then you make him stand up and undress him to his boxers.

“why’re you trying to see me naked?” he laughs to himself.

“you like what you see?”

“get in bed, katsuki.” you laugh.

“you come too?” he asks.

“uh huh, move over.” you say patting his thigh.

he moves so you can get in.

as you shuffle into the sheets and pull the covers over the two of you, katsuki sits up on his forearms so he can lay between your legs with his head on your chest.

“hi.” he says, eyes closing.

“hi.” you whisper back, threading your fingers through his hair.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

Hiiiii! Love love LOVE your writing!!! Babe, can I request a little something with drunk Joel 🙏 He gets all lovey dovey with you and you ride him while he praises tf out of you💕

hello!! i've written you this lil thing, i hope you like it! <3

says it feels like heaven to him

pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ mdni)

word count: 1.4k

summary:

joel comes home from poker night feeling frisky.

content warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no age reference, dub con - sex while one party is intoxicated, no use of y/n, oral sex (f receiving), face sitting, that brief universal fear of actually sitting on the person's face, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, multiple orgasms, girl on top, unprotected p in v. let me know if there are any that are missing!

Joel’s not quiet when he comes home late from poker night down at the Tipsy Bison. You hear the door open and slam shut, the sound of him cursing as he struggles with the laces on his boots, followed by the muffled thump of them dropping to the floor beside the small bench just inside the front door. 

He climbs the stairs, heavy footsteps echoing in the hall outside the bedroom. You watch the door open slightly, his head of messy dark curls streaked with gray poking through. When he sees you’re awake, a bright grin spreads over his features and he throws the door open wide.

“Hey, baby,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re awake.”

“Well, if I wasn’t, you would have woken me up,” you reply, voice teasing. He steps into the room, coming up to the side of the mattress that you’re lying on. 

He plucks the book from your hands, setting it on the nightstand before throwing back the covers from your body. You make a noise of annoyance that’s cut off by his lips descending on yours, warm and slightly chapped, his mouth carrying the taste of whiskey as your tongue moves against his. He crawls up onto the bed with you, situating himself between your legs and grinding his hips against yours, making you gasp.

He breaks the kiss, lifting himself slightly to look down at you as he drags a broad palm across your thigh and slips it beneath the hem of the t-shirt you wore to bed that night. You arch into the touch, his fingers finding a tight nipple and giving it a brief pinch.

“Your tits are so fuckin’ perfect,” he groans. He sits back on his heels, grabbing at the hem of your shirt and urging you to sit up so he tug it over your head and drop it onto the floor. He’s on you even before your back hits the mattress, lips encircling one of your nipples as he groans appreciatively. The sharp sting of teeth makes you yelp and you can feel the way he smiles against your chest.

“Joel,” you whine, “be nice.”

“I think I’m bein’ real nice, sweetheart,” he replies, switching to your other breast and giving it the same attention. He sucks and licks and bites at your chest to his heart’s desire, leaving you panting and sensitive. 

Finally, he backs off, kissing down your stomach and stopping at the elastic of your underwear. He sits back again, this time curling his fingers into the elastic and tugging your last article of clothing off your body. He looks down at you, dark eyes sparkling in the dim light as he moves over to the other side of the bed, where he typically sleeps, lying on his back and looking at you expectantly.

“Sit on my face,” he says, smiling like a kid on Christmas. 

“Joel—“

“Don’t Joel me, I know what I want and I want that pretty pussy right here.” He points to his face. “Come on, gorgeous girl.”

Your face feels hot as you shuffle awkwardly to your knees, throwing one leg across his chest. His hands grip the flesh of your ass, dragging you closer, manhandling you until your pussy hovers just above his face, knees on either side of his head.

“So fuckin’ wet already,” he says, running a knuckle through your folds and making you gasp, balance faltering until you reach out to grip the headboard for stability. “Hang on, sweetheart.”

He tugs you down harshly until you’re quite literally sitting on his face, his tongue lavishing your clit with attention that makes you cry out, hips rocking into the sensation. You try to subtly lift back up, to give him more breathing room, but his arms wrap around your thighs with an iron grip and hold you steadfastly against his mouth.

Joel licks over every inch of your pussy, tongue circling your clit and dipping inside of you, the wet sounds of his actions interrupted only by his appreciative groans. You lose yourself to the heat of his between your thighs, rocking slightly over him, the tip of his strong nose catching your clit as his tongue presses inside of you. 

“Joel,” you moan, releasing one hand from the headboard and burying it into his thick curls. “Joel, I’m gonna cum.”

He hums, the vibration of it making your thighs clench against his head. He focuses all his attention on your clit, licking and sucking and rolling it between his lips until you’re shaking with your release above him, crying out his name over and over. You shuffle down his body and he looks up at you with a rapturous expression, sparse beard glistening with your wetness.

“Fuck, that was so good,” he says. His hands fumble with his belt and the fly of his jeans while you straddle his chest, catching your breath. “Now I need you to cum all over my cock, okay? Just move yourself down a little bit for me.”

You shuffle down his body until you’re spread out over his hips and he’s running the thick head of his cock through the mess he’s made, catching at your entrance for the briefest moment, not enough to satisfy you. You whine and Joel laughs, a deep rumble of self-satisfaction.

“Somethin’ you want, darlin’?” He asks, doing it again, pressing deep enough that his tip is inside of you. “Use your words, baby.”

“Want your cock,” you murmur, shifting your hips to take more of him inside of you. He moans, hips flexing and pushing himself deeper still. 

“Take it then, baby, s’all yours,” he says. You slide down his length until he’s buried deep, cock stretching you perfectly like it always does. His eyes are half lidded as he looks up at you and as you lift yourself up and drop back down, they shut tightly as a moan spills from his lips.

“Yes, yes, fuck, that’s so fuckin’ good,” he says, fingers digging into your thighs. “So tight and wet, fuck, can’t believe you’re all mine, sweetheart.”

His praise has you moving your hips faster, rocking over him desperately as each drag of his cock from your body hits a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. You sit up straight and lean back, hands on his denim covered thighs as you roll your hips, and filthy words spill from Joel’s lips as you work yourself over his cock.

“So perfect, Christ, so fuckin’ perfect…”

“Amazing, baby, keep goin’, just like that…”

“Take my cock like you were made for it, sweetheart…”

“Need more,” you whine. “Please, Joel, I’m so close.”

His thumb circles your clit with sloppy motions and you cry out, going still as your orgasm crashes over you and your cunt pulses around Joel. He waits until your muscles relax, shoulders dropping and legs no longer pressed tightly to his hips before urging you down to the mattress, lying on your side. He shoves his jeans off, kicking them gracelessly from the bed before lying down, facing you. 

He scooches close, grabbing your top leg and settling it over his hip so that he can slide himself back inside of you with a groan. He thrusts inside of your sensitive pussy, holding your ass with a tight grip and using the leverage to drag your body over his cock as well.

“Did so well for me, baby,” he says, his sharp motions making you gasp. “Feels like I died and went to heaven when you’re cummin’ on my cock like that.”

You lean your face closer to capture his lips in a kiss, his tongue still carrying the taste of you as it tangles with yours. His hips grow more frantic, losing their purposeful rhythm as he chases his release. When he’s close, he pulls out, rubbing himself over your belly until his cock pulses, warm cum splashing against your skin as he moans into your mouth.

As Joel comes down from his own high, his eyes flutter open to look at you, clearer than when he’d come into the house. He sits up, taking his shirt off and using it to clean the mess from your belly. When he’s done, he tosses it to the floor and manhandles you under the covers, pulling you close as you giggle. 

“You have a good time at poker night?” You ask.

“Mm, had a better time after,” he says, burying his face against your neck. You run your fingers through his hair and he sighs. 

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Me, too.”

Check out my Joel Miller masterlist

[jsluvtzu]

strawberry kisses (pt. 1)

park jihyo x fem!reader

summary: sweet reminders of who you belong to

cw: smut!!! men dni, cheating-ish?, jihyo’s realll jealous and realllll possessive, choking, marking

wc: 2.9k

a/n: i got this idea while listening to mina’s bridge in first time 😭 everybody say thank you jihyo for putting that pen to work!

the lively restaurant was filled with laughter and half-sober words all around you.

your girlfriend brought you along with her to a dinner with her biker friends: nayeon, momo, and sana.

jihyo had always been a motorcycle enthusiast — she and her friends would constantly go on late night rides together at times that no normal person would be awake.

but recently, things at work had been so hectic that her bike was instead left to collect dust in your garage.

hectic enough to the point where you two hadn’t fucked in three weeks.

any time you wanted to initiate anything intimate with her it was always “i’m too tired”, or, “maybe tomorrow”.

obviously, this meant you were beyond horny.

you were desperate for any form of relief — even just a simple thigh ride while jihyo typed away on her laptop would have sufficed.

but, meeting after meeting, file after file, the work was never ending for jihyo.

your girlfriend’s career had officially stolen her away from you.

until you decided to drag her up from the deep ocean of stress she was drowning in that night.

—

“come onnn, y/n! stop being so lame, ‘js take the damn shot,” nayeon slurred, hoping to encourage you to be on the same level of drunk as her.

“one more shot won’t hurt you, y/n..” sana’s sweet voice joined nayeon’s drunken one in peer pressuring you.

you sighed out dramatically and scoffed at the way you were so easily influenced around them, “alrightt, alright. i’ll do it.”

cheers erupted from the both of them who excitedly poured peach soju in your empty shot glass, spilling a quarter of the bottle in the process.

as you downed your now fourth shot of alcohol, you glanced to your right to see jihyo and momo engaged in some business talk.

momo was like jihyo’s advisor, always giving her pointers and tips about how to manage her substandard employees.

even at a dinner party she can’t seem to get her mind off of work, you thought — slightly disappointed, but also worried.

you shook your head and brought yourself back to your distractions for the night, tipsily conversing with jihyo’s drunk friends about what it would feel like to wake up as a man one day.

while nayeon and sana were debating with each other, the screeching of a scooted back chair caught your attention, your girlfriend suddenly getting up and leaving out the door.

slightly confused, your eyes followed her out into the window in front of the restaurant, only to see her on a phone call with her hand pressed to her forehead.

another fucking work call. you were somewhat angry at this point, and — who keeps rubbing on your thigh?

“you’re soooo fuckin’ pretty, y/n.. ‘wouldn’t even know what to do with all this.” nayeon snuck her way unnecessarily closer to you while you were focused on fighting your girlfriend in your head.

her hand trailed up your exposed thigh from the short black skirt you wore, rubbing at your soft flesh as she mumbled intoxicated things in your ear.

you turned your head down a bit to see nayeon resting her head on your shoulder, nibbling at your bare skin.

“nayeon.. what are you-”

“ ‘s okay, pretty, ‘s ‘js me.” nayeon interrupted as she kissed her way up to your neck.

you shifted yourself away from her touch, uncomfortable at her advances.

momo and sana scolded nayeon from across the table, “stop it before jihyo sees. and you know what she would do to you.” momo was currently the soberest one at the table, attempting to knock some sense into her friend.

“mmm don’t be ridiculous, she’s too busy with her dumb company to pay attention to us..”

nayeon inhaled the sweet vanilla perfume that jihyo loved on you, “god you smell good. ‘could eat you up right here..” she whispered the last part lowly, almost seductively.

it was hard for you to control yourself as the shots you took earlier were getting to you, and it wasn’t exactly a lie that you’d always found nayeon attractive.

but nayeon was right. jihyo was too busy to pay attention, so maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to make her pay attention for once.

sana and momo were eventually too occupied flirting with each other to see the smile forming on your face when you had your plan in mind.

from the angle the table was at, your seat was in perfect view for jihyo to see nayeon all over you.

whoever jihyo was arguing with over the phone, they had her pacing the sidewalk and getting visibly frustrated, gesturing her hands in the air to emphasize her words with venom laced behind them.

she faced you through the glass pane at the perfect moment when nayeon tucked your hair behind your ear and leaned in for a kiss.

you made direct eye contact with jihyo as you felt nayeon kiss you on the corner of your mouth, letting her messily peck at your lip gloss coated lips.

the way your girlfriend’s furrowed brows relaxed and her soft eyes turned dark only encouraged you to infuriate her even more.

and from the way it sounded, jihyo swung the door open with enough force to break it clean off the hinges.

her footsteps were heavy and intentional.

you slightly winced when jihyo grabbed your arm and forcefully yanked you out of nayeon’s grip.

“mm- the ‘fuck? heyyy.. jiii..hyo..?.. shit.” nayeon said, squinting through her drowsy eyes to make out your girlfriend’s hovering figure. she almost fell completely forward when you were pulled away as she was reliant on your body there to hold her up.

“y/n has to use the bathroom.”

“no i don-“

before you could even finish your sentence, you were already halfway on your way to the ladies’ room.

you were sure that jihyo’s grip on your bicep was strong enough to leave bruises later. not that you were complaining anyways.

she picked the furthest stall at the end of the room to cram the two of you in, pushing you in first and slamming the lock shut behind her.

immediately, you felt how cold her hands were from being outside as she wrapped her fingers around your throat in a tight enough squeeze to give you a rush.

your backside made contact with the flimsy wall, making a loud bang as she pinned you between it and her.

her leg was slotted perfectly between yours and you couldn’t resist the urge to lightly grind your clothed core against her denim covered thigh.

“thought you could get away with your little act huh? ‘tryna make me fuckin’ jealous or somethin’?” the increasingly tight grasp on your neck made your vision go blurry, “greedy slut just needs to be put in her place doesn’t she?”

you attempted to answer her, but you could only give her a lousy groan in response.

jihyo was eyeing you up and down with nothing but pure lust in her eyes.

weeks of not being able to taste you, touch you, feel you — jihyo was just as sexually frustrated as you were.

there was a moment of tension when her hands loosened and she carefully watched as you caught your breath, lips parted and eyelids half-open.

you broke the moment soon enough as you crashed your lips onto hers, moaning into the now sloppily paced make out session.

whines escaped your lips when jihyo pressed her thigh closer to your aching core, making your jaw drop even wider.

she took that opportunity to force her tongue into your mouth, claiming her territory and exploring you fully.

you stabilized yourself with your hands at her shoulders, her muscles insanely defined even through the thick leather jacket she had on.

your girlfriend broke the kiss with your bottom lip between her teeth, pulling away with a pop sound.

it wasn’t long until her lips found their way back to your skin, attacking your jaw and neck.

when you felt her sucking at your soft flesh in a pulsing rhythm, you remembered that you were still very much in public.

“w-wait- jihyo.. we still mmph- have to go out there-”

she laughed against your skin, biting at a new spot on your throat and soothing it with her tongue — the chemical taste of your expensive perfume teasing her tastebuds.

“am i supposed to care? you had no problem eating nayeon’s face in front of everybody,” her hand trailing up to unbutton your cropped cardigan, “more specifically, in front of me.” your collarbones now exposed and tempting her, “it’s only fair baby.”

jihyo left deep red hickeys on damn near every empty patch of skin on your neck — half of your chest and collarbones littered with bite marks and bruises.

she kissed over her last mark on you for now and leaned back to admire her work.

to her, it was better than any other project she had ever worked on.

“that’s good enough, love. let’s go, i’m not done with you.”

jihyo opened the stall door and walked out, running her fingers through her curled hair and leaving you to fix yourself on your own.

seeing yourself in the mirror was definitely a sight.

your hair was disheveled, clothes were out of place, lips were swollen, and the marks. god, the fucking marks she left on you should not have made you feel the way you did.

you were just relieved that nobody came in for the past 10 minutes as you hooked the last button of your baby blue sweater through its hole.

walking back out into the dining hall felt incredibly embarrassing knowing what you currently looked like — you tried sweeping your hair over your neck to cover up as best as you could.

jihyo was already getting your things together to leave when you got back to the table, ignoring the fact that nayeon’s eyes couldn’t leave your flushed face.

sana laughed in disbelief, “you guys are fucking nasty.”

you avoided prolonged eye contact with all three of them while saying your goodbyes and followed behind your still angry girlfriend.

her bike was parked alongside the curb next to the rest of theirs, but a special pink heart that she let you paint on the small windshield distinguished it from anyone else’s.

the wind kept blowing your hair from its designated spot and revealed your pretty marks to the people that passed by.

jihyo saw you hugging yourself as she set her bike up, taking off her leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

mumbling out a low thank you, you slid your arms through the sleeves and threw your leg over the seat, sitting directly and comfortably behind your girlfriend.

“helmet.” jihyo passed you a matching helmet that you two got for your anniversary last year over her shoulder.

you slid your head into its snug shell and adjusted it as jihyo revved her bike a couple times to warm it up.

wrapping your arms around her waist, you placed your feet up on the footrests and turned your head to the side, leaning down to rest it against her back.

the ride home felt like minutes thanks to jihyo’s aggressive speeding and weaving through crowded lanes.

you clung onto her for dear life when she would make sharp turns around a tight corner and gas it, a clear sign that you were in for a long night.

when you finally made it home, jihyo flipped the kickstand out with her foot and pulled her helmet off, her dark hair flowing out all at once.

you did the same, placing your helmet on the left handlebar and following her through your garage door.

jihyo headed upstairs without even looking back at you — she knew you wouldn’t be far behind.

when you reached the open door of your shared bedroom, you saw your girlfriend already shuffling through her nightstand, pulling out a pink silk tie that she only used when she intended on fucking you absolutely stupid.

“clothes off. you know what to do.” her tone sending chills down your spine as you stood frozen in place.

“no.” you said firmly — your heart beating out of your ribcage.

a deep sigh filled the room as she snapped her head in your direction, “no?”

jihyo walked towards you slowly, like a predator stalking her prey — her muscles flexing on full display with the black tank top she had on.

your breathing was sharp and uncontrolled, your fists clenched to keep yourself together.

you flinched when she raised her hand, landing it gently on your cheek and caressing your smooth skin with her thumb.

“sweet thing..” she mumbled, “but you don’t get to be a brat tonight.”

her hand suddenly left your cheek and found itself grabbing a fistful of your hair, forcing a yelp out of you as she dragged you over to your shared bed.

jihyo slammed you face first into the soft comforter, holding your head down with her hand tangled in between your messy locks.

“you’ve been pretty bold lately.” you squirmed under her and tried to get up, but your efforts proved pointless when jihyo forced you back down as she straddled your lower back.

she practically ripped her jacket off of you as she grabbed your hands together and began wrapping the silk tie around your wrists.

“first you kiss some other bitch in front of me..” your squeals unaffecting her, “now you wanna talk back?” her skilled knot tying skills leaving your wrists locked with no escape, “seems like my sweet girl forgot who she really is.”

your skirt rode up your ass during your pathetic attempt at fighting back, accidentally revealing a prominent damp spot left in your panties.

“oh, you fucking like this.” jihyo scoffed, groping your thighs and slapping your ass a couple times.

small moans left you unwillingly, your horniness completely blinding you from what your original plan was.

“please..” you whined, slightly lifting your ass up for her in hopes that she would understand your signal.

“hm? now you’re begging for me?” she laughed darkly, “you’re nothin’ but a pretty fuckin’ slut.”

jihyo hooked her fingers through your panties and slid them down your legs, throwing them off to the side.

your legs were hanging off the bed in such a perfect position for jihyo to just take you right there.

she bent down and kissed your ass roughly, practically inhaling your flesh into her mouth.

you felt her sink her teeth into your lower thigh, making you wince at the sharp pain.

the same marks she left on your upper half were now tattooed across your lower — purple bruises appearing evenly on each one of your cheeks.

“fuck, just fuck me please. ‘need you so bad-”

you had no idea when she strapped the harness across her hips — too lost in the pleasure of her mouth on your skin, but when you looked over your shoulder, she stood there — pants off, strap on.

without any warning, she slid the full length of her silicone cock inside your poor pussy, not even allowing you any time to adjust.

she held your wrists together with one hand as she mercilessly pounded your tight hole.

the way you clenched around her strap left your pussy aching as you cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain.

“ngh- wait! ji- stop.. ‘hurts too much..” you stuttered, desperately grabbing at her forearm, digging your nails into her skin.

the squelching sounds that echoed against the walls drowned out the chorus of moans that you and jihyo made.

your wrists were going numb from how tight the silk was wrapped around them, her hold on you preventing you from moving out of her grip.

“yeah? you wanna act like a slut? i’ll fuckin’ treat you like one.” jihyo groaned out in between heavy breaths, “ ‘js take it like the bitch you are.” she was using this opportunity to take out her built up stress on you.

she flipped your skirt up against your back, letting the flowy fabric wave erratically every time she thrusted into you.

in your fit of mewls and fucked out moans, you felt yourself getting close — your walls clenching around her strap, making it difficult for her to fuck you at the same speed.

“my bitch. tell me who you fucking belong to.” she growled.

your brain was beyond the point of functioning, coherent words impossible to form.

“y-you- mmph only you, fuck- ‘m all yours.”

the sound of your skin clapping against each other threw both of you over the edge, your struggled screams partially muffled as you pressed your head further into the sheets.

“only i can fuckin’ have you like this.”

jihyo fucked you through your orgasm as your back arched acrobatically, coming around her strap and soaking her lap with your juices.

you shakily cried out frantic begs and pleads as your legs went limp against the bed.

your girlfriend bucked her hips slowly a few more times to let you catch your breath, her ringtone suddenly blaring on the nightstand.

jihyo tsked at being bothered at such an inconvenient time, pulling out of you and reaching for her phone.

you whined at the emptiness, simultaneously slipping into a slightly drunken coma.

“you g’na answer that?” you asked breathlessly, expecting her to put her job first per usual as she you watched her stare at her screen, contemplating.

she shook her head and threw her phone back onto the wooden nightstand, “no. i have better things you to do.”

[gretavanmoon]

The Proposition (S17)

Spinning Now: "Birthday Sex" by Jeremih (2009)

Pairing: Danny x female reader

Word Count: 14.3k

Description: Danny's always been that friend and roommate who you never thought of as anything more, until a birthday proposition presents itself in a way that neither of you can deny.

Warnings: Drinking, Cursing, Heavy Flirting, Praise, Dirty Talk, Touching, Wax Play

Smut: Kissing, Oral M!Receiving, Oral F!Receiving, Fingering, Unprotected Sex (use protection!!)

+ This little diddly of an idea has been swimming around in my head for months now, and I've been so excited to get it going. And thanks to the reader who suggested it be a roomies trope ;) Hope ya like xoxo

Girl you know i i i...

HER POV

White or red?

There is no special occasion, simply just the bi-weekly dinner gathering of your friend group that has turned into an every-Thursday-night habit. Not that an occasion constitutes your wine choice, but still yet, the thought quickly crosses your mind. You are all meeting at your and Danny’s house tonight, along with the conjoined group of friends that has been steadily keeping each other fed for the past two and a half years, now. 

You’d been living with Danny for as long as you could remember, taking claim of his spare room sometime after everyone collectively moved out of your parents’ homes. The arrangement worked perfectly, the two of you already knowing how the other ticked after being friends for many years. Your jobs kept both of you busy, giving the other enough room that you didn’t feel like you were invading space in the small house. 

You pull your phone from your pocket as you peruse the wine selections, texting the group chat to check on tonight’s menu. 

You: What are we making tonight again? I already forgot

Jake: Salmon and quinoa and some other stuff

Jake: God your memory sucks

You: Emma, come get your man he’s being mean to me again

Emma: Quit picking on her babe 

You: Ok so I should get white wine, right? Pairs with fish?

Sam: Just get three fuckin bottles of wine, who cares

You: Ok I’m not coming if you guys are gonna continue to harass me

Sam: Too bad it’s your house and you have to be there anyway

You: I’ll lock myself in my room I don’t care

Danny: No Y/N, if they’re gonna be assholes they don’t have to come over. They can stay home and we can order pizza :)

Jake: Shut the fuck up Sam, I’m making the damned salmon and quinoa

Josh: What the fuck is quinoa

You shove your phone back in your pocket as you roll your eyes, the buzzing still consistent as you imagine they are still arguing with one another. 

It's funny how much Danny has been defending you lately. He’s still his normal self, your very good friend who sometimes lets his sweet side get the better of him, but in the past couple of months, something has switched. The more the brothers pick on you, the more he stands up for you. It used to be the opposite, with him joining in on your playful dog-piling any chance he could get. But ever since a couple of months ago… ever since his last birthday…

Almost three years ago now, you and Danny had found yourselves wrapped up in each other’s arms in his bed after a drunken night that started out like any other, dinner, socializing, cards, and way too much to drink. It was his birthday party, and after everyone else had cleared out, you stayed up to clean up the multitude of plastic cups and empty bottles that were scattered around the house. You were both fairly drunk, and you knew if you got the majority of the party cleaned up that night, you wouldn’t have to bother with it all while being inevitably hungover the next morning. 

“I’ll get out of your hair soon, Danny. I’m about to call an Uber to go stay with Emma.” You’d said as you dried the last of the dishes. He was sprawled out over on the loveseat, his shirt halfway unbuttoned and his mess of curls pulled up on top of his head. You’d always found him attractive, but you’d always been positive he was way out of your league. He’d never even given you a passing glance in that way. Except, that night, he looked exceptionally delicious… and your hazy, drunken mind undoubtedly had started to drift.

“What? Whyyyyy…? Don’t get an Uber, it’s too late,” he’d slurred as you walked over to sit on the ottoman his feet were rested on. 

“Becauseeee… it’s your birthday and I don’t want to interrupt your time with whatever guest you might have coming over.” You remember the words felt heavy in your mouth, like it was strange that you had never talked about Danny’s personal life out loud before. Or yours, for that matter. Even after all the years of being friends and roommates, the two of you had always taken things as they’d come… watching as strangers made their way in and out of your bedrooms without a second question.

“Guest?” His face contorted. “I ‘ont have a guest coming over, Y/N…”

You’d let your mouth gape open and your hand clutch your chest in a display of over-dramatics. “Really? No one to give you a happy ending on your birthday?! You must be falling off the wagon, Wagner.” 

What you do remember, though, was how hard he laughed at your half-assed attempt at a shitty joke. 

“I swear! Just me, tonight.” It was at that very second that you remember becoming enamored with the way he licked his lips, how he clicked his tongue just a little, and how his eyes had fluttered closed under his lashes. He’d reached his hand out for you to grab, so you did. 

“You gonna let me be lonely on my birthday, Y/N?” His warm fingers slowly worked their way to interlace with yours. This flirtatious tone wasn’t something you’d ever seen from him before, but for some reason, you found yourself tumbling for it. The deep rasp in his voice signaled something else, something so unexpected from him that you almost laughed it off as him kidding with you.

Your eyes had glanced around the room in confusion, and when you didn’t answer, you felt his foot kick into your leg, bringing your eyes back to look at him. His eyebrow was cocked in the air, as if he was waiting for an answer. 

“You’re drunk, Danny… you don’t…” you’d anxiously answered, nodding your head side to side in disbelief. 

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t want me to… stay…” for some reason, he was making you nervous, and you were having trouble answering him. There was no way he wanted you to stay, of all people. No way in hell.

He’d laughed, sitting up on the couch and leaning over to take you in his arms in a giant bear hug. His face was buried into your shoulder, pulling you close in the warmest embrace you’d had in a while. It was strange feeling him this closely, and you shivered a little at his touch. You’d hugged him back, and then felt his lips drift close to your ear. 

“I actually do… want you to stay here with me. In my room, in my bed, until tomorrow morning…” his voice crackled in your ear, the faint scent of spicy tequila still on his breath. It’d sent chills all over your body, and you had to admit, it was a strangely welcome feeling. Danny had never been this close to you, like this, ever before. His words had shocked your system, though, temporarily deeming you unable to respond. 

So when he finally pulled back from the hug and confidently met your eyes again, you let yourself go with it. You were still fairly intoxicated, but this drop dead gorgeous friend of yours who had hardly ever given you the time of day was now throwing himself into your lap. Why turn him down? It was his birthday, after all. 

“I never knew you were into me, Danny,” you’d cooed, watching as his fingers drifted across the back of your hand. 

He sat back and dropped his head against the cushion again, cracking his fingers above his head. “I‘ve always been into you, Y/N. You’re gorgeous and fun, make me laugh… always been so good to me.”

You’d never admitted it, but of course you had pictured yourself with him a time or two. How could you not? Talented, handsome, kind and genuine…always looking for fun and always including you in his outlandish plans. But this…him laying it out on the line like this? It had your body beginning to physically yearn for him, completely out of nowhere. 

“Stop playing, no you haven’t…” you’d argued, still in disbelief. 

He held his hands up in surrender, cocking a sideways smile. “I swear. I just… never had the guts to say anything…”

You contemplated it all for a second, giving him a questioning look that begged for his reassurance. 

“Why not, ya know? Not like we’re strangers…” you’d muttered through a sharp inhale.

You stood from the ottoman and slowly began stepping one foot in front of the other toward him, standing just between his legs. Your heart rate spiked as you answered him, your face flushing with the reality of what you were about to do.  “Just a birthday hookup, huh? Just this one time?”

You let your hand brush against his thigh, your fingers lightly tickling until they reached his hip. It felt as though your hands were disconnected from your body, making their own decision to reach out and touch him as he sat reclined in front of you. Gently, his hands pulled around your waist, his thumbs digging into the flesh, strong and inviting. 

“Just this one time…and that’s it.”

That night, the two of you stayed up until the winter sun was striking through the windows onto Danny’s white down comforter, and only then did the two of you finally drift off to a short but sweet slumber, until the alarm on his phone woke you both in a panic. 

You’d fallen asleep upside-down on the bed, both of your heads at the foot of his king-size. His arm was draped across the small of your back, and his hair was still a messy bundle of curls at the back of his head. 

“Fuck,” he’d muttered, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, it’s your alarm…”

Suddenly, now, in the light of day and the brightness of the room, the both of you became very conscious of your unclothed selves. You’d felt your cheeks blush at the sight of him, skin still dewy with the after-effects of sweat and sex. You didn’t miss his passing glance of you, too, still halfway wrapped up in his sheets as he maneuvered to the top of the bed to check the time.

“‘S only seven. Shit, I’ve got a headache…” he said, running a hand over his face. 

“Me too,” you mumbled as he laid back down beside you. You pulled the covers up a bit more over your body, feeling extremely exposed in the bright sunlight. He propped himself up on his elbows, giving you a sweet and questioning look. “So, what are we supposed to do now?” you’d asked. “Cuddle?”

His laugh bounced off the walls, the glitter in his eye sending a wave of nerves through your body. 

“We cuddled plenty last night, Y/N. We didn’t end up falling asleep until like, six,” he said, his voice groggy with sleep, or lack thereof. 

“Fuck,” you breathed. “I’m sorry for keeping you up all night, I know you have things to do all day–” he cut you off with a kiss, his neck craning down to meet your lips with the sweetest surprise touch. 

After a few fleeting seconds he pulled away, meeting your eyes as he spoke again. “Don’t you dare apologize to me, Y/N. I asked you to stay in here. Asked you to keep me company on my birthday.” His hand reached up to pull the hair away from your cheek, bringing instant flashbacks of his hands on your face and shoulders last night as he pinned you down, fucking you into his mattress. “I was just completely unaware that both of us would last for that many hours…” he laughed, rolling away to cover his face. 

“God, Danny, don’t embarrass me!” you laughed along with him. 

“What is there to be embarrassed about?! Shit, I think we were great together,” he went on, holding his hand out for you to low-five.

You pursed your lips together, letting your hand clap onto his. “We were, weren’t we? Never would have thought.”

“Shit, I thought about it all the time…” he admitted. 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you played, smacking him across the chest. 

“I don’t know, you’re just a girl in my friend group, ya know? My roommate that helps me with rent…didn’t want to freak you out or something and make you hate me,” he explained.

You propped up on your elbow, shaking your head at him. “So we could have been doing this all along?”

“Oh, so you enjoyed yourself, then?” he countered, rolling you to lie on your back as he pulled himself over you again. 

As you gazed up at him above you, small curly strands falling around his face and onto yours, you felt your face get hot, the same need you felt in your stomach for him last night coming back full force. A need you never thought you would have for him. A need that came back to you over and over again the night before, and left you both too exhausted to even bother to see the morning.

“Danny, we fucked like five times, of course I enjoyed myself,” you tried to keep the confidence heavy in your voice. 

His nose scrunched up as he giggled, light and airy into the room. He laced his fingers with yours, lifting your hands together into the air and pulling them back down between you again. This time, you took the initiative and kissed him again, straining to keep things from moving as quickly as they had moved once you finally climbed into his lap on the couch last night.

When you finally separated, both of you refraining from letting it go any further, he disconnected your hands and clenched his jaw. “What do we do now?”

You didn’t want a relationship. And neither did he. That much was very known amongst your friend group, the both of you way too busy with your own lives to devote your time to another. You stood strong in that decision, and you knew for a fact that he would, too. So your mind began wandering, thinking of ways to end this entanglement you’d found yourselves in. 

“What if we just… did this sometimes?” you proposed. 

His brow furrowed. “I’m listening…”

“Our birthdays. Yours in December, and mine in June… it’s perfect. If the both of us are single on our birthday each year, we make a plan to not leave the other lonely…” The idea seemed preposterous, but at the same time, it didn't. A sure-fire way to make each of your birthdays interesting each year, and after the night you’d shared last night, you’re positive he wouldn’t turn the idea down.

His eyes dashed around the room as he considered it, taking a deep breath as he sat up in the bed. You caught a glance of his naked lower half, and your eyes rolled back on their own accord as you pictured his hips pounding into yours last night in the darkness of his bedroom. You sat up too, challenging his gaze. 

He held his hand out again, this time for you to shake. 

“Deal.”

—-

After deciding on the three bottles of wine, two white and a red, your mind begins wandering off by itself, causing you to hardly pay attention to the fact that you are singing the words to the song playing in your headphones out loud. You bite your lips, glancing around to see if anyone had seen you, or worse, heard your horribly flat singing voice. Luckily the aisle is clear, so you make a mad dash for the checkout line, ready to get out and head back home for dinner. 

The drive is short, and when you finally arrive in the driveway, you find that you’re the last one to get there. 

“Hello, hello,” you sing as you let yourself inside, kicking off your flip flops at the door. You set the bag of wine bottles on his island where Jake and Sam are busy preparing the meal. 

“Thank god, the booze is here!” you hear Josh sing through the house as he makes his way over to stand beside you, opening the drawer of the island to search for Danny’s wine opener. You set all three bottles in line on the countertop in a nice straight line. “Shiraz, Y/N? That’s surely a bold choice…” Josh says, rolling his eyes. 

“The label looked pretty, I don’t know!” you counter, shoving your shoulder into his. “It already smells really good, guys…” you say as you leave Josh to the wine, leaning over Jake’s shoulder as he stirs a pot at the stove. Suddenly Danny is leaning over his other side, sticking his finger in whatever sauce Jake is stirring.

“Aht, aht!” Jake swats his hand away just as Danny sticks his finger into the saucepan. “It’s not perfect yet…”

“Tastes good as hell to me,” Danny says, locking eyes with you as he pops his lips over his finger. You feel your insides churn.

“So Y/N, your birthday is next week, you guys planning your weird little bi-yearly birthday hookup still?” Josh nonchalantly asks as he yanks the cork from the bottle of red. Fortunately, it only took nearly two years for your friends to catch on to your and Danny’s little birthday agreement, when Jake inadvertently tried to surprise Danny with filling up his bathroom with balloons, only to find you bent over the bathroom sink. 

“Christ, Josh, you have to put it like that?” Danny intervened. “Geez…”

“What?! That’s what it is, right?” Josh says as he pulls glasses down from the cabinet. You feel your face blush, even though it’s an open topic, at this point. 

Danny pulls himself up to sit on the corner of his countertop. “No, we simply enjoy the other’s company on our birthdays because both of us suck at the dating playing field and always decide to indulge in one another’s availability, right Y/N?”

“That’s correct,” you confidently agree as you listen to the others groan.

Josh throws his head back and laughs loudly. 

“What?” Danny yelps.

“You don’t think it’s funny that neither of you have ever had a significant other on your birthdays for the past what, three years now?” Josh says, eliciting silent looks of agreement from his brothers.

“Mmm, no, I don’t think it’s funny. We both suck at dating, you heard him. This is just…our way of making sure we aren’t alone twice a year.” The attempt at explaining yourselves is transparent, at this point. You know you’re lying to yourselves. It's obvious. Each and every time you pull yourself from Danny’s bed, or he from yours, you feel your bones begging you to stay. You like him, you’ll admit it, but only to yourself. 

Twice a year isn’t enough, it was never enough. And you know for a fact that it will never be enough. On his birthday last year, you could have sworn you heard him say something close to the ‘L’ word as he came for the third time that night, his voice low and whining as you clenched around him, bringing him to his completely fucked-out state of mind. Each hookup had gotten hotter, heavier, and more serious. Each time was better than the last, and this last one was so intense, that you ended up staying in his room a second night, completely breaking your own rules. 

As you slipped out of his bedroom that second morning, his honey brown eyes were begging you to stay, his lips touching his fingertips and blowing it your way as you quietly shut his bedroom door behind you. 

That morning broke you. That morning your heart told you what it wanted. 

That morning was the last time you denied it to yourself– you were absolutely head over heels for him. The yearning you’d felt had begun overtaking your whole self. And it wasn’t just yearning, it was something else. Something more powerful, something you couldn’t grasp the notion of, because you’d never felt it before. It’s now become something that makes your days drag by with the thought of him, not only sexually but personally, too. You feel wrapped up in his life, intertwined with his decisions, and some days you barely even have the time to give each other more than a goodmorning and goodnight. Sure, you still meet up every week with your group for dinner, but the subtle touches and the intense glances that are being shared almost on the daily now have become too much. You want to tell him. You need to tell him.

“Hm. Okay, so… what’s the plan this year?” Josh asks, obviously wanting to pry into your business, just like always. 

“Josh, it’s none of your fucking business. Can you leave them alone for a second?” Sam says as he empties the box of rice into the insta-pot. 

“No, it’s fine. I have big plans…” Danny bites his cheeks in as he denies himself a cheeky smile, swinging his bare feet as he sits on the counter. His eyes are boring into yours, and you swear just a simple word from him would have you on your knees for him, anymore. 

“Big plans, huh?” you try to avoid his stare. 

“Mmmmhm…” he says, grinning to himself. “Might have you running away and never coming back, though.”

You nearly choke on the sip of wine swirling in your mouth. Throughout the years, you will admit, your hookups had gotten more and more mischievous as time went on, both of you pushing each other’s boundaries just a little more each time. Nothing had ever gotten too crazy, but after his birthday last year, it was an unwritten understanding that not much was off the table, at all. 

Sam plugs his ears with his fingers. “La la la I don’t wanna hear details!”

Jake pulls his wooden spoon from the sauce, turning to face all of you. “I do, I wanna hear it. Keep going. What’s the plan?”

“I’m not fuckin’ tellin’ you guys, it’ll ruin the surprise,” Danny argues as Josh hands him a glass of wine. 

“Okay well you can tell me after her birthday then, right?” Jake pushes. 

Emma steps in front of him, taking the now dripping spoon from his hand and running her tongue up the side to catch it from going into the floor. “Yeah Danny, maybe you should give him the rundown, maybe it’ll get his wheels turning,” she challenges, bouncing her eyebrows to Jake as she places the spoon back into the sauce. You laugh at her, feeling no embarrassment in the least. 

“Get my wheels turning?! What is that supposed to mean?!” Jake yells, grabbing her waist from behind and spinning her around the kitchen. 

You lock eyes with Danny again as he gives you a suspicious look of excitement, like he’s trying his hardest to keep his idea locked inside. 

—---

After a rambunctious and wine-drunk dinner, everyone begins to file out of the house, stumbling away to either walk down the street to their respective homes, or catching a ride out with other friends to the nearest bar. You’re left behind again, like always, helping Danny with dishes and pouring out the remaining bits of wine left behind in the glasses. 

“So, next week. The big 2-5. You still down for hanging out?” he asks as he dries the last dish, as if you would ever say no. 

“Actually, I think I’m going to spend this year alone, ya know? Keep it low key, order some take-out and curl up on the couch,” you say with a cheeky tone.

His jaw hangs slack as he nearly drops the towel in his hand. “Really?”

You scoff. “No, Danny. Are you serious? We shook on it, and I don’t break my promises,” you laugh. You slowly walk toward him, the line between friend and more than a friend getting blurrier as time goes on. You want to put your hands on his bare chest, press yourself against his warm body, crane your neck up to meet for a sweet kiss, but you don’t. Because you can’t. Because he isn’t yours. 

So instead you just simply stand before him, leaning a hand onto the countertop. 

He lets out an audible sigh of relief. “Shew, good. I was about to be pissed at you, Y/N,” he breathes as he playfully shoves your shoulder. “Standing me up on your birthday…”

You smile as you realize your feet are carrying you closer to him on their own. You try to stop them, try to tell them no, but you can’t. Now you’re standing in front of him, your chests almost touching as you let your finger trail up his arm to his neck. “I’d never stand you up, Danny. Not in a million years,” you murmur. 

You feel his body stiffen as you let your singular fingertip connect with his skin, your touch a featherlight drift. You glance down at his hand balanced on the cold marble countertop, his fingers tightening and loosening under the weight of his own want to touch you back. You hear him breathe in, fast and choppy as you begin to manipulate the line between friends and more, truly unable to keep it black and white no matter how much you try. Finally you let your eyes look into his, dark and brooding and looking a lot like they do after a few rounds of self-indulgence with you.

“Good,” he growls, “because I have a hell of a night planned for us.”

Us.

“Is that right?” you question, still trailing your fingertip across his arm and neck. You can see the chill bumps forming on his skin now, and you can tell he is physically restraining himself from succumbing to his mental constraints. You have to admit, you’re finding it very satisfying, watching his mind tell his body no. The muscles in his arms flex and tighten as you step closer, slowly tiptoeing to bring your faces close, your lips barely ghosting his. 

“That’s very right,” he whispers, opening his mouth slightly as if he’s going to kiss you, but instead pulling back a little. The proximity is enough to make you feel soaked already, your entire body buzzing with fire for him. 

“When do you want me ready?” you breathe, letting your lips graze across his, your finger now hooked behind his bicep. His hands are still gripping as he balances between the island and the countertop as he leans down to you, restraining himself still yet. 

He’s inhaling and blowing air quickly through his nose, and you know for a fact that he’s holding himself back with everything in him. His jaw clenches hard as his eyes stay trained on your lips. “Want you right now, if I’m being honest…” His words make the butterflies in your stomach explode their wings. 

You can taste the wine still heavy on his breath. “But it’s not my birthday, Danny…” you retort.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m getting to a point where I don’t care.”

You swallow it down. Maybe your thoughts are mutual… Your heart is absolutely racing, like it would do when you found out your elementary school crush liked you back. You don’t even know what to say, at this point, you want him so badly…your vision blurring with the mental snaps of the two of you wrapped up in one another again. 

“You should care, we have an agreement,” you admit through your teeth, as badly as it hurts to say it. “We set our rules.”

He scoffs hard. “I don’t remember signing my name on any dotted line, Y/N,” he spurts back, making you feel that drop in your stomach again. He wants to break the rules, too.

You bite your lips in, deciding to cut your losses. You step back from him, disconnecting your finger from behind his arm, and stepping away. The flushed look on his pink cheeks is enough to make you want to run back into his arms, and the look on his face makes it seem as though he just lost the one thing in his life he never planned on having, anyway. 

“I asked you a question, Danny. When do you want me ready?” you say strongly. 

He closes his eyes and recenters, swallowing down his thoughts. “Uh, uhm. F-Friday. Around 8.” He finally cleans up his expression and meets you with a smile again. “Be ready to celebrate.”

—--

DANNY POV

Friday rolls around more quickly than you thought it would. The group had decided to rain-check family dinner this week, planning on celebrating Y/N’s birthday the following weekend when everyone would be in town at the same time. 

Your palms had been sweaty all day just at the thought of what tonight would hold, and you realize that you hadn’t been this anxious for a night together with Y/N, yet. The nerves are positively eating you alive, but you shove them down, knowing that you shouldn’t be having them in the first place. She doesn’t feel for you the same way you feel for her, and she likely never will. 

It’s heartbreaking and wasteful, really, knowing that your sexual chemistry with her is only put to good use twice a fucking year when it should be being shared with her whenever you wanted to show her how much you really care, but. Here you find yourself. 

She’s taking up all the extra space in your mind these days. You feel like you’re floating on air each and every time the vision of her face pops into your mind, you feel like you can feel the blood in your veins rising to a hotter temperature than you’ve ever experienced, and you find yourself wanting to give her all the things she’s ever wanted, and more. Your friend, one of your best friends, you’d say, unknowingly spinning herself into your life in a way that you can’t even tell her about.

That last birthday you shared together, your twenty-fifth, wasn’t the same as the rest before it. Sure, fucking her was high on your list of excellent sexual experiences thus far, but that last time, shit. Had your head spinning for days after. Never had a woman gotten you more fucked up than she did after that night. Two nights, really. That was when you knew it was real. When you wanted to ask her to stay, don’t go… be with me here and don’t ever leave… But your pride got the best of you. So you let her walk out, taking every single last bit of hope you had to make her yours with her as she walked out your bedroom door. 

Could she not see it? Did she not notice how horribly you want her, all the time? Surely she doesn’t think you’re just being nice when you do little things for her… offer to change the oil in her car, take her lunch to work, send her every single funny meme and video you have ever come across simply because you know they’ll make her laugh…

Apparently not. But you don’t want to push too hard, too soon, either. If it’s meant to happen, it will. Hell, you hadn’t even told Sam about these feelings you’d been having. No one knows. This is a secret you’d kept bottled up for months now. 

You come back inside after a quick trip to the grocery store and gently place the items from your arms onto the island, making sure the champagne bottle doesn’t tip over and break. You stick the bottle into the fridge and remove everything else from the plastic bags before rushing into your bedroom to make sure it’s presentable. 

While she was at work, you’d spent the majority of the day cleaning up the general guy-ness of your bedroom, putting on a fresh set of sheets and giving the bathroom a good wipe-down. You’d never cared this much, for what she thinks of your surroundings…

…But you want tonight to be special. You want this birthday to be her favorite one, yet. And you’re determined to do so. You’d placed various candles around the surfaces of your bedroom, trying to make it romantic, but not so much that it will make her think you’re trying too hard.

When you decide that your room is as neat as it’s going to get, you go back into the kitchen and tear into the small cardboard box that’s been hiding away on top of your refrigerator for almost a month now. You’d seen an ad for it while scrolling instagram or something, and you knew right then that you had to get it. Your birthdays spent with her were becoming more and more experimental, and the idea for this year had fallen right into your lap. 

You rip the packing tape off the box, letting it fall to the wayside as you open the flaps, finding the perfectly wrapped 2 and 5 candles in all their glittering glory. Shiny, crimson red wax with metallic gold trimming, long wicks and a thickness that regular store-bought candles just don’t have. You smirk as you pull them from the packaging and lay them in front of her small cake- chocolate with white buttercream icing. Her favorite. A glance at the clock on the stove lets you know you have an hour until she gets home, so you scurry off to the shower to get a last-minute scrub before you inevitably hear her coming through the door. 

—--

Your stomach nearly falls to the floor when you hear the front door unlatch, and you find her a  tired and flustered mess after her long shift. You busy yourself on your laptop, trying your best to seem more involved with what you’re doing than watching her unload her things from her arms onto the table.

“Hey birthday girl,” you mutter without looking back at her. “How was your day?”

You feel her lean all her body weight across the back of the couch beside you. “Long,” she huffs, “but not bad.”

You find the confidence to turn your head to her, finding her resting her head into her palm as she eyes you. You have to reel it all back in as you feel her so closely in your presence again. 

“Good,” you reply, keeping it short. “Not too tired to skip our date?”

She hums a sweet laugh. “No. Most definitely not.”

“Are we…leaving the house? I’m trying to decide what to wear…” she asks shyly.

You have to remind yourself that she’s your friend, there’s nothing to be scared of, you do this all the time…

“No, actually. We’re staying home,” you reply.

Home. Your home, with her. 

“Eight o’clock?” she reiterates.

“Yep, on the dot,” you tease as she stands to make her way to her end of the house.

She sways down the hallway, tossing her jacket over her shoulder as she disappears into the shadows. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

—---

A few hours later, you’re leaned on the island swirling a lowball glass of tequila, waiting for her to emerge from her bedroom. You’d been standing patiently, fashionably early for your birthday date in the kitchen as you listened to the faint sounds of her music playing as she got ready. 

Your nerves are already shot, the tequila doing little to assist in qualming the nervous anxiety swirling through you. So when you finally hear her bedroom door open and her steps coming down the hall, you have to tilt the rest back in hopes that it will hit you a little more quickly. 

She’s dressed cute, but comfortable, and you can tell she did her hair that special way that you’d complimented a few weeks ago. She smells like sweet sugary flowers mixed with the woodsy smell of rain, and just her scent as she approached you was already driving you insane. 

You meet her in the middle of the kitchen, grabbing her hand to twirl her around into your embrace. “Happy birthday, gorgeous,” you mutter, your face falling into her hair for a second. 

Her arms lift around your neck, squeezing just a little as she places the sweetest kiss to your cheek. “Thank you, Danny.” You allow yourself to hold her for just a second, your right hand gripping the wrist of your left at the back of her waist. 

“You hungry?” You ask as you pull away from her. 

“Yeah, whatcha making?” she replies, taking a seat at the island. 

You grab the box of the frozen pizza you’d previously thrown in the oven, displaying it for her. 

“Oh my god, my favorite!” she squeals. “I’m so excited.”

You laugh as you fold the box up, cramming it into the trash can. “Knew you would be. It’s not a five-star birthday meal, but. Let’s be honest. I can’t cook for shit, and you love this pizza more than you love a lot of things…”

“No, you’re so right. I’ve actually been craving it for a while,” she giggles. 

“Wait, I also gotttttt….” You make your way to the fridge, pulling out the bottle of champagne. 

“Shit, pizza and champagne? You know exactly how to make a girl happy, Daniel.” She blushes a little, and you know you’re on the right track for the night. 

“You gotta open it, though. It’s bad luck if someone else opens the champagne bottle on your birthday,” you lie, scooting the bottle to her across the countertop. 

“You’re crazy. Give it,” she rolls her eyes as she takes the bottle, twisting the key seven times and removing the wire casing. She stands from her chair, gripping the bottle in both hands as she searches for somewhere to aim. 

“At the wall! Just not toward a window!” you warn, closing one eye as she begins to push on the cork. Finally it pops off, flying toward the wall as the bubbly pours from the neck of the bottle. “Get it, Y/N, get it!” 

She cups her lips over the overflowing bottle, slurping up as much as she can before it flows into the floor. The two of you laugh as you bring two glasses over, letting her pour them up. Just then the timer for the pizza goes off, and the sound of the beeps reminds you that time is ticking, making your nerves rush for the main event. 

——-

After stuffing yourselves with pizza and downing the bottle of champagne, the two of you are piled up on the couch sharing a six pack of some crazy peach flavored beer she’d bought last week. 

You’re seated on the couch as she reclines across it, her legs in your lap. You’d talked a lot tonight, like more than you maybe ever have before. Sure, you’d been friends for many years now, but majority of the time, you’re surrounded by the other guys always intervening on your conversations, or interrupting your discussions. 

But after three hours of deep exchange, you swear you could talk to her until the end of time, and never get tired of it. She looks natural with her bare, sunkissed legs draped across your lap, and your hand that’s mindlessly drifting over her thigh and knee looks like it belongs there. 

Her drunken laughter bounces off the walls and right into your chest, making your entire self beam with happiness and adoration for her. The way she takes up space in the home you share gives you an inexplicable feeling. Roommates doesn’t even begin to describe what you want to title your living situation with her.

Your faces are blotched red and tears are falling from your eyes as the two of you come down from a laughing fit, and a sweet recovery silence falls over the both of you. Her eyes are bloodshot from the alcohol, and her face is flushed from the belly laughs. 

“You’re really pretty, Danny,” she flits, making you whip your head her way. 

“What?” you ask, embarrassed. 

“You’re pretty. Well, you’re handsome, of course, but. You’re also pretty,” she explains, her words making you feel shy. 

“Oh, thank you, Y/N. Don’t think anyone’s ever told me that before…” you respond. Your hand grips into her thigh a little bit as your head falls back onto the couch cushion. You meet her eyes, the both of you staring at each other while everything else in the room disappears. You hold the gaze for a long while, each passing second making your breathing pick up. Fuck, she makes you nervous. 

Finally, she stands, pushing her hair back behind her ear as she reaches for you to take her hand. “Take me to bed, Danny…” she whispers. 

Okay. 

You slowly stand, keeping her hand in yours as she pulls you into the center of the room. Like magnets, your bodies are pulled into one another, your hands finding both of hers as you turn to walk her backwards down the hall to your room. You move in slow motion as the two of you glide across the wooden floors, taking your sweet, special time. 

You take her chin between your fingers, and push her hair back again before leaning down to press your lips to hers. It’s gentle and sweet and slow, her lips parting only just a little bit as you guide her down the long hallway. You allow yourself the indulgence of her lips, the feeling of her tongue gently swiping across yours, the flavor of everything that she is. It’s all perfect, she’s perfect. 

Her hands finally find your face and hair, entangling themselves like they always do, pulling you further into her. For this only being the sixth time you’ve done this, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to you. It doesn’t make any sense that you waste your time thinking about it, instead of giving her the loving that she deserves. 

But you plan on showing her tonight. You may not be able to tell her, but damned if you can’t try your best to show her. 

“Wait, I almost forgot,” you pause as you approach your bedroom door. “I’ll be right back. Stay here,” you command, squeezing her shoulders. “No peeking,” you whisper as you watch her eyelids close.  

You’d already strategically placed her cake on the table in your room, with two forks and no plates. But the last finishing touch is the sporadically placed candles. You grab your lighter from your nightstand and light them one by one, watching as the flickering flames cast a warm glow across your walls. Perfect. Lastly, you place the 2 and 5 candles in the center of the cake, but wait to light them. 

You slip back out into the hall, finding her still standing with her eyes closed. You grab her hands and pull her to walk toward you. “Keep them closed.”

Her smile lights up your entire world. “What are we doing, Danny? I’m scared…” 

“Don’t be scared, babe. S’just me…”

You pull her inside, instructing her to sit down on the bed as you grab the cake and lighter. You balance it in one hand and flick the lighter with the other, lighting the wicks of both the number candles. 

“Open your eyes.”

Her eyes flick open, finding the room completely illuminated with orange glow. “Ah, Danny…” she gasps, glancing around the room, and finally to the cake in your hands in front of her. 

“Hm hm hmm hm hmmm hmm…” you hum the Happy Birthday song, your voice a bit shaky and jittery with nerves. “Don’t forget to make a wish,” you say, watching as her eyes flick to yours, then back to the cake in your hands. She closes her eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, and blowing out the flames of her 25.

“You wanna know what I wished for?” she asks. 

You shake your head. “No. But I hope it comes true.”

You set the cake down on your nightstand and you sit back down beside her on your bed. You bring her in close again, letting your forehead balance on hers before you make contact. You swear to it, you could get lost in kissing her more easily than you could get lost in a foreign country. You’d kissed her a hundred times before, but lately…now…

Things move slowly, things move sweetly…normally the two of you waste no time in ripping one another’s clothes off, biting and scratching and devouring each other like you’re starved, but tonight feels like it deserves more attention than that. It deserves to be appreciated. 

Your hands drift to the bottom hem of her cream-colored eyelet lace dress, your hand drifting up her thigh. You pull the dress as you go, revealing her thong hugging her hip. Your hand slips below the waistband, and you run your fingers along it and down the front pantyline, the backs of your knuckles skimming across her heat. She whines a little at the contact, and you feel your vision growing blurry. 

You continue kissing her while slowly letting your hands explore her in a way you’ve never let them before, taking special care to pay attention to your every move. The kiss becomes more longing when you let a digit slip into her folds, feeling her wetness coating your finger for the first time in six months. Her hands grip onto your shoulders, pulling your upper body into her. You push her back to lay on the bed, never once disconnecting your mouths. 

Her left knee is bent into the air while the other one lies flat, so you push it to the side a little as your hand still hides in her panties. Her hand is yanking at the back of your hair as your featherlight touch drifts up and down, finally landing on her sweet spot. She cries quietly into your mouth when you land on it just right, using your middle finger to swirl her wetness across it. 

She sits up a little, reaching to your back to pull your cotton t-shirt over your head. You disconnect for just a second to help her, and toss it to the floor. “Mmm there you are,” she mumbles, her hands rushing across the skin of your chest and arms while you go back to work. 

You feel her legs spread, giving you the ok to move further. You let your two middle fingers dip inside of her to the hilt, her muscles already tight and twisting around you. “Fuck baby, you’re tight…” you pull away long enough to say. With your words she tightens around you on purpose, clenching herself as you begin pumping your hand in and out of her. You start to wonder if you’re the only one she’s slept with since December. Not that it’s any of your business, but, lately you’d decided that your feelings for her had gathered so heavily in your chest that that six month gap would be worth it, if it meant she could be all yours.

You watch her face in awe, suddenly feeling no ounce of shyness in the least in watching her come undone around your hand. Her bottom lip bites into her mouth as her eyelids flutter open and shut, and the sounds that escape from her lips make you realize how beyond ready for her you are. 

You continue pumping your fingers in and out of her, feeling her drip down onto the bed sheets below you. “You wanna let go like this for me, baby?” you ask, having trouble keeping your breaths even. 

“No. Yes, but no…” she concedes. “Wanna… want you…”

You smirk. “Go ahead, Y/N, we’ve got all night. You know how we are...” You take the opportunity to twist your fingers inside of her, turning your arm so that your palm is now pressed against her heat instead of perpendicular with it. You lean down and lick a stripe up the side of her neck as you leave your fingers buried deep, stopping the pumping altogether and instead wiggling the tips of your fingers against the spot deep inside her. 

“Fuck Danny,” she breathes. “Keep it there keep it there…” Her eyes squeeze shut as you watch her chase her high, her hand squeezing at your pec and gripping onto it with everything she has. 

It’s impressive really, how much you’d learned her body after just being with her a handful of times over the course of three years, learning her ins and outs and what drives her crazy for you, and stowing them away at the back of your mind until the next birthday. 

You make quick and heady work of brushing your fingers across that spot, pressing your palm against her clit and adding just the right amount of circular pressure in both places. Her legs fall open even further and her head tilts back, all of her muscles tightening as she cries out, giving you her first orgasm of the night. And you had barely even removed any clothing yet. 

When she’s done, you gather up her wetness and pull it onto her stomach under her dress, letting your middle finger massage it onto her skin. “Fuck…” she breathes out, wiping the hair from her face. “That didn’t take me long,” she laughs.

“No, it didn’t,” you agree, sitting up on the bed. “Must be excited to see me.” 

She sits up and stands from the bed, pulling her flowy cream dress up over her hips and hiking one knee after the other across either side of you. You lean back away from her straddle, resting your arms back on the bed as you get a good look at her, already glowy. She reaches up and clasps her hands behind your neck. “Very excited to see you,” she admits shyly. 

“Hm, really? You see me every day,” you poke, trying to feel out her level. 

“Yeah but we can’t do this on random Tuesday afternoons, or in front of our friends, now, can we?” she presses, letting her hips fall onto your lap. You reach one finger to her chest and trail it up to under her chin, pulling her into you. Your heart begins pounding as you fall into a ravenous kiss again, this time bringing more heat than you even began to touch on a few minutes ago. Your hands fall to her waist, pulling her down onto you as she moves her knees to sit closer, pressing your chests together. Your hands travel across her thighs and to her waist, then finally around to grip her ass. 

Though your tongue is burying itself deeply into her mouth, you’re metaphorically biting it. You want to tell her that yes, you do want to move things in another direction with her, you do want to hold her hand in front of your friends, you do want them to know how crazy you actually are for her. So in an act of boldness, you try. 

“Maybe not in this regard, but they probably wouldn’t mind a little PDA…” 

She giggles as she wraps her hands in your hair. “PDA? Like flirting with each other? In front of them?”

“Yeah, just like that. They already know we sleep together sometimes, they have to know we, ya know… are allowed to let it flow into days that aren’t our birthdays…” you swallow the words down, feeling so anxious that she may take them the wrong way, or hate them altogether. 

“You think they’d make fun of us?” she asks, her mouth kissing behind your ear.

“Oh yeah, they would. But, I’d be there to slap the fuck out of them if they embarrass you,” you respond, squeezing your hands into her hips. 

Her tongue is tickling the sensitive skin around your ear as she lays tiny pecks near your hairline. “I think I’d be okay with a little flirting… sometimes it almost happens naturally, anyway,” she says, making your heart rate soar again. 

“Really?”

She nods, coming up to face you now, her cheeks tinted the palest pink. “Mmhm, sometimes I have to stop myself from touching you in front of them. You know, just innocently.”

You swallow hard, knowing the exact feeling all too well. When you’re surrounded by your friends making dinner or whatever it may be, you’ve found yourself having to stop your hand from grazing across her lower back as you walk by, from leaning down to kiss her cheek, anything, all the time. She’s right, it does feel natural to want to do that. 

“I do, too, actually,” you admit. “You… It feels normal to me. Just a reflex.” You buck your hips up into her as you speak, your body begging you for some contact. 

The whimper that leaves her chest ignites that deep carnal instinct inside you, wanting, needing to connect yourself with her again. You gather the soft fabric of her dress in your hands, signaling to her that you want to pull it off. She lifts her arms above her head, allowing you easy access to tear it all the way off of her. As her hair cascades back down over her shoulders you realize that her dress didn’t require a bra. So, you’re left staring at her left only in her thong, her breasts sitting more perfectly than you remember them. “You’re so gorgeous, Y/N, I swear…” you grit, raking over her body with your eyes. 

She hops off of your lap, motioning with one finger for you to stand. When you follow her order, she falls to her knees, working her fingers to unbutton your jeans. “Fuck, wait,” you say. Her eyes glance up at you through her eyelashes. “Pull your hair back.”

She does as you say, pulling her hair into a ponytail at her neck while you undo your jeans with one swift movement. She gets done with her hair quickly, swatting your hand away and pulling your zipper down. “Take them all the way off, Danny,” she demands, and the backs of your knees hit the mattress as you lean over, kicking them and your underwear off one leg at a time. You kick them to the side as she walks on her knees closer to you, taking your already over-hard dick in her right hand, licking her lips just a little before she swirls her tongue around the tip. Everything had just happened really fast, her urgency making your blood pump. Her tongue flattened out against you, and she pressed you all the way to the back of her throat, almost making your knees buckle under you. 

She grabs your hand, pulling it toward the back of her head. You take the signal and wrap your hand around her hair just as her lips meet your base, and you hold her there, feeling the saliva already beginning to pool in her mouth. “God damnit, baby, fuck you’re so good at this. Don’t even need my help…” You loosen your grip and allow her to drag her lips across your shaft, adding hard suction as she slowly ascends off. 

“Want your help, though. Do it…” she motions, so you do. You use her ponytail to guide her up and down you, forcefully pushing and pulling on her head just like she likes it. The first time you did this, you were a bit thrown off, as you’ve always just let whoever was pleasing you do whatever they felt. But she likes it when you tell her when and where you want her to be. 

The candles are physically heating up the air in the room, providing a heat that feels like a heavy blanket on your skin. Your mind flashes with remembering the special candles, and you feel a spark of excited electricity shoot through your body. The baby hairs around her face are beginning to stick to her forehead as her eyes glance up to look at you, doelike and pleading. 

She hums onto your dick as you squeeze her cheeks together, taking a hard hold on her jawline as your opposite hand guides her motions. Your head falls back as you feel the knot tightening in your stomach, but you can’t let go just yet. Her tongue swirls around your tip and the sounds that her mouth is making sound downright ruthless, spurring on your albeit degraded current situation. 

She moans onto you as her lips pull on and off, all by the force of your hand. You pull her hair particularly roughly, watching as the string of saliva connects her mouth to you, still. You take the second to sit down on the bed, physically unable to stand for another second without losing all will to hold yourself up. She moves in closer and digs her nails into the soft skin between your legs, sending a shake through your body. “Mother fucker baby, keep going with that…” you say, biting your bottom lip as you watch her. She scratches at your skin a few more times before you finally decide you can’t take it anymore, pulling and pushing on her head at a quicker pace. 

“Mhmm…” she moans as she nods her head ‘yes’, and you feel the deep rumble in your stomach, telling you that you’re not far. She kisses her lips down tightly on you this time, flicking her tongue in all the right places as you feel her throat tightening around you. 

“So fuckin’ deep baby, shit…” you say as your hips jut forward a few times, your dick hitting the back of her throat. Suddenly you feel your world falling apart as you let go into her, the dim orange light of the room turning into flashes of black and white as you send your streams down her throat. You wrap her hair around your hand as you hold her just where you want her, pulling her closely into you as you hiss through your release. 

When you finally take a breath and your vision unblurs, you watch as she wipes her chin with the back of her hand, standing to her feet again and joining you on the bed, a completely smug and satisfied look on her face.

“The fuck are you grinning about, huh?” you ask, pulling her in toward you again. 

“Nothin’, I just really love being the one to make you make noises like that,” she says, biting back another smile. 

“Well, you’ve got me figured out, seriously,” you compliment her, and it was the absolute truth. 

She shrugs you off. “Eh, I’m out of practice, really.” 

Oh?

“No way, you’re like… well seasoned,” you kid. 

“You dick!” she yells, stifling a laugh. “I haven’t even done that in six months.” You can tell she regretted saying it as soon as she did, suddenly avoiding your eyes and pulling one of your pillows up to cover her chest. 

“...You’re kidding,” you breathe, truly in disbelief. 

She shakes her head. “Lame, huh?”

“N-no, not lame. I–You haven’t, since…?” you stammer.

“Nope. Since your birthday. Go ahead, laugh at me all you want,” she says, motioning with her hand. 

Her words hit you right in the gut. She hadn’t been with anyone since you…

“I’m not gonna laugh at you, Y/N. I… I actually haven’t been with anyone else, either.”

Her eyes meet yours in disbelief. “Really?”

You nod. “Not this time around.”

She sits for just a second, hugging the pillow to her. “Why not?”

You shrug, the nerves bubbling in your stomach. “I dunno, no one’s really…struck my interest. Not enough to bring back home, anyway.”

She pulls one shoulder up toward her ear. “Yeah, mine neither. I’ve…tried, ya know, but.” She swallows. “My birthday is my favorite holiday for a reason.”

You can’t stop the joy that rises in your chest, your extremities tingling and your heart beating in your ears as she basically admits she doesn’t enjoy anyone but you. She hasn’t made it work with anyone else in six months. 

“Six months is a long time to wait, Y/N,” you mutter quietly. 

She pulls the pillow down, moving closer to you on the bed. “Not when what you’re waiting for is all you can ever think about.”

Fuck… it feels like your head is going to float right off of your shoulders out of a pure high at her admission. Your chest gets warm and your mouth goes dry, and you swear if you were looking in the mirror, there would be stars in your eyes. 

She feels the same. 

After a few seconds of disbelief, you find the nerve to answer her, a hardly audible whisper as you bring your face close to hers. “I think I’d wait for you for fifty years, if you wanted me to…”

Her hand cups your jawline as she grits her teeth, pulling you into her again. Your mouth wants to devour her all over again, but instead you take note of the tender moment, laying a sweet kiss to her lips that has a promise behind it. 

Her eyebrows furrow together when you pull away, a look you’re familiar with but also one that told you she’s confused. She opens her mouth to speak, probably to ask you if what you’d just said is true. But nothing comes out. She just stares at you in disbelief. 

Your hand finds her hip as you yank her body in with a little force, almost nose to nose now.

“Yeah, you heard me right. I’d wait for you, I will wait for you, if that’s what you want me to do…” you say, feeling so anxious for the outcome of this conversation you could almost be sick. It’s either going to end really really well, or so badly that you’d end up alone in bed tonight. But the risk outweighs the outcome, and you are ready and prepared to take it, whatever it might be.

She swallows hard as you watch her eyes become glazed. Her hands are balancing around your neck and across your shoulders, and you can feel the heat rising in her palms as her digits nervously fidget. It feels like a hundred years pass in the time you wait for her to respond, and you contemplate taking it all back. Making up an excuse, saying just kidding, we’re just friends… But the panic stops as soon as she finds her words. 

She shakes her head. “Wait for me… you’d, you wanna actually…?”

“Be with you more than just twice a year? Yeah, Y/N, I really would. You– you kinda have held a really special place for a long, long time now.” You swallow again, letting the words you’ve kept pent up for so long finally flow, but still feeling a little embarrassed by the admission. “I just never said anything, ya know, because of our arrangement. It worked so well for us but. I… I don’t know. It feels like more to me, lately.” 

She nods hard again, a tiny smile crossing her lips as her eyes stay trained on yours. But she stays quiet. 

“Can you say something, Y/N?” you ask through a huffed laugh. 

“It is more, Danny. It’s been more to me for a long time, too. You take up more space in my mind than I’d like to admit,” she says, now avoiding eye contact. 

Wow… finally. Finally, there it is.

“Why do we both deny it?” you whisper.

She shrugs, massaging the back of your neck. “I don’t know. But I don’t really want to anymore.”

You wrap your arm around her torso, pulling her weight from underneath her as you lay her flat on her back. 

“Then we don’t,” you say as you tower over her, the candle light flickering in her eyes and off of her skin. Her body is beautiful, there’s no denying that, but what has always gotten you is how she carries herself…how her body language is always reflective of exactly what she’s feeling in the moment. And right now, as her midsection arches up into you begging you to touch her again, you have no other thoughts than to appease her. 

Your mouth travels down her chest and across her belly, leaving long, lingering kisses across her body. As you get closer and closer to her heat, you move to kneel on the floor just as she had for you earlier, slipping your hands underneath her to pull her to the edge. Even in all your wild, drunken sexual adventures with her, for some reason, you’d never concentrated on this. You’d never gone down on her. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, as it was one of your favorite activities, but the immediate pull to one another on these nights always ended up with getting straight to the good part. Neither of you really ever left time for the embellishments. 

She perks up onto her elbows as she gazes at your face between her legs. “Danny…”

“Let me show you what I mean, baby,” you more ask than say, running your tongue down the inside of her thigh. Her body stiffens as she still gives you that look of hesitation. Your tongue drifts over her opening as you tease her, barely ghosting overtop of everywhere but her sweet spot. She shudders again. “Unless you don’t want me to…”

“No! No I want you to. Please. You’ve just…” she finally relaxes her head back down. 

“I know I haven’t. And that’s on me. But I wanna show you that I’ve been thinking about this, doing just this since the last time I had you…” you explain, finally delving your tongue deeply into her. Her reaction is immediate, her back arching up again as her hands find your hair. The sounds she makes make you strain to keep it together, and the taste of her finally on your tongue is enough to make you want to stop altogether, and get to the good part, but you savor this instead, realizing you’ve wanted her like this for so long. 

You squeeze your lips over her, inching your tongue languidly inside of her and moving it back up to circle her clit. When you finally find it, she squeals, exhaling as her hands rip into your scalp. You glance to the head of the bed, pulling down a pillow and positioning it underneath her back to get a better angle. Your hands snake under her again, squeezing her ass as you pull her in. 

“Fuck Danny, why did you hold back on this for so long?” she asks through a pant, her legs opening and closing over your ears. “Shit…” You realize that you don’t really have an answer.

She’s writhing and fighting herself, and you can tell she’s nearing the peak, until she backs off again, likely wanting to make this last. She hums and purrs as you work over her clit, using your tongue and lips to kiss every single drenched inch of her. You feel like you can’t get enough, until you remember. Her birthday gift. 

You slow things down, pulling away a bit until you see the disgruntled look on her face at the disconnect. “No, don’t stop… don’t go..” she begs. Her expression is desperate, and you want nothing more than to feel her lose herself at the mercy of your mouth. So you dive back in, this time with a purpose.

“‘M not goin’ anywhere, baby,” you manage through kneads of your tongue against her. You bring your arm up between the two of you, using your elbow and hand to press her legs apart while your free hand’s two middle digits enter her again. Your tongue never lets up, circling and swirling furiously as her muscles tense. You take that as your cue to work harder, feeling her clenching around your hand already. You pump in and out of her again, making sure your tongue is pointed exactly where she needs it.

“Fuck, Danny baby… yes…” she breathes, and the pet name sends a shockwave straight to your dick, hearing her utter your name followed by a word so personal. You cup your lips over her clit, using a quick and harsh suction motion as you flick your tongue across it.

When she finally lets go, her cries and slurs of curses echo through your room, the most beautiful sound you’re sure you’ve ever heard. Her hands stay tangled in your locks, forcing your face into her as close as you can get. You savor it all, the sight, the sound, the taste… you wonder why you ever denied yourselves this piece of the puzzle after all this time, but then again, maybe saving something this intimate for right now is exactly what was supposed to happen. 

Her body jolts and shakes as she lets the pleasure wrack through her, and you devour every last bit. You crawl up her once she opens her eyes again, her hand freeing from your hair and back down to your face, pulling across your cheeks and mouth as she wipes her wetness from you. Her voice is strained as she finally speaks. “Fuck that was…”

“Fucking delicious,” you finish, pressing your lips to hers again, making her nod into you.

“Yeah, fucking delicious,” she agrees, wrapping her legs around you and using the leverage to pull you onto her. If you weren’t rock hard before, you surely are now after witnessing her falling apart for you like that. You can tell she’s already ready to get things going again, but you stop her, pulling away like you had done before. You stand from the bed, watching that same look of disappointment come across her features. 

“Don’t look at me like that, just wanna give you your birthday gift,” you say, walking around the bed to your nightstand. You grab the cake and place it carefully into your lap, grabbing the lighter again as she comes and sits beside you. 

“I already blew out my candles, Danny,” she says, balancing her chin on your shoulder.

“You did, but I didn’t tell you that these are special candles. Not meant to be blown out,” you explain, flicking the lighter to life and igniting them both.

“Not meant to be blown out? Why–”

“Because they’re really an oil,” you say, putting the lighter down and grabbing the plastic tray under the cake again, holding it up between you. “These are candles specially made for us to let melt and drip onto each other. Not like regular wax, these don’t burn as hot. Once they start to melt a little, they turn into a body oil.”

“Like a massage oil?” she asks, and you nod. 

“Mmhm, see, you can already smell the lavender and bergamot. They had birthday cake scented, but. I thought that might be overkill,” you smirk. Her eyes drift down to the candles with intrigue, and she bites her bottom lip in. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to. But, I’ve heard good things…”

She picks up one of the candles from the cake, carefully licking the icing off the bottom. She holds her opposite hand out palm down, and lets the melty wax oil drip down onto the back of her hand, a few droplets of dark red liquid dripping down between her fingers. 

“Doesn’t burn at all,” she says, reaching to grab the cake from you to set on the table again. She then takes your hand, letting the wax drip down onto your hand, too. 

The sensation is more of an extremely warm electrical pulse than the burn you’d expect, and it quickly dulls as the oil cools. It doesn’t harden like normal wax, instead it just turns into a thick oil. You take your other finger and rub it across your skin, feeling the softness of the lotion-like liquid sink into your skin. “Wow, no, it feels good,” you agree. 

“Lay back,” you suggest, and she does, handing the candle off to you. 

You question the situation, not knowing exactly where to drip the oil to make her feel the best. You assume maybe her chest and stomach, maybe even down her legs, if she feels up to it. You hold the candle directly above her sternum, raising your eyebrows in final question before you let it drip. 

“Yeah, go ahead,” she says, her hand landing on your knee. 

The red liquid finally falls through the air, a singular drop that lands and splatters across her chest. Her mouth opens just a little, but then her surprise quickly turns into a devious smirk. “Feel good?” you ask. 

“Aha, yeah, actually. It burns pretty bad for a split second but it goes away…shit, do more,” she pleads. 

You go along with her request, drizzling tiny drops between her breasts and down her stomach, nearly completely coating her in the oily liquid. 

“You sure you like it?” you ask as you watch her face repeatedly turn from a surprised grimace into a devilish look of satisfaction. Thankfully, that second look, you’re more than familiar with. 

“Yessss…” she hisses as another drop falls onto her skin. “I feel so…” her mouth lies open as you continue letting the oil drip and pool, the floral scent filling your nostrils.

“So what?” you ask.

Her eyes bore into yours as she bites her lips between her teeth, her hand still gripping hard into your leg muscle. “I like the pain. It’s like… I don’t know how to explain it…” she breathes. “Like a sensation I don’t want to ever end.”

You take your free hand and gently massage it in, taking time to work over her nipples and stomach. “God, that feels so good…” she whispers, her hand now digging into the muscle of your thigh. You place the candle back on the cake, turning to pay special attention to rubbing your hands over her muscles. 

The heady scent of the oils mixed with the residual alcohol still flowing through your system brings a whole new dizziness to the atmosphere, and you feel as though the whole situation is only becoming heavier. You reach over to your phone sitting on the night stand, and flip your music to some psychedelic playlist. The distorted guitar and scratchy bass sounds bring you both to a new plane, and you take the moment to recognize the woman you have your hands on, and how she feels underneath them. 

Her eyes flutter open and closed as your hands drift, massaging the soft oils across the mountains and valleys of her body. “You want me to do you?” she asks, eyes flicking back to the candle. 

You shake your head. “No, shh. It’s your birthday, just relax.”

She smiles a little as she gets comfortable again, moving her body a little closer to yours on the bed. Your hands travel up her shoulders and neck, slowly kneading the tense muscles. Then you move on to her hips and waist, squeezing at the thickness of her. You feel yourself getting turned on all over again just by touching her this way. You watch as her hands drift across the tops of her legs, gripping at her own thighs. The visual is almost too much, watching as her fingertips pull at her skin. You reach to grab the still-lit candle, adjusting your body to sit beside her legs. 

“‘M gonna try your legs, that okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, go ahead…” she mumbles, her eyes still rolling around behind her eyelids. You move between her legs and let the wax drip onto her inner thighs, not really caring if any lands on your comforter. “Ffff…” she hisses, biting onto her bottom lip. Her face contorts from pain to pleasure as the oil cools, and you replace the candle, making your way back to massaging her. 

Your hands nearly cover the entirety of her upper thighs, your fingertips digging into the skin just as hers had done a second ago. You push the oil all around, paying special attention to start at her knees, and slowly work your way up. You have half a mind to lick into her again, seeing it now from this view, but you stop yourself. Your thumbs rub into the creases where her legs meet her heat, and she practically moans out at your touch. 

“You’re being such a fuckin’ tease, Daniel,” she says, her hands cupping her breasts.

“Mmm, I don’t think you understand how hard it is to stop myself right now…” you huff. 

She bites her lips again and shakes her head side to side, obviously feeling the same emotions as you. This doesn’t feel like it normally does, and you feel more anxiety than ever to satisfy her. You watch as she reaches her hands for you, signaling for you to get things going. 

“Don’t stop yourself then,” she stutters, her voice almost shuddering. Her hand grips into your hair again and pulls you up, your hands crawling up either side of her as her nails claw and pull at your back. 

Suddenly your mind finds itself again as you remember to grab protection. You balance your forehead on her sternum, both of you already panting and sweaty as you pull yourself away to reach for your bedside drawer. 

“No, just—it’s fine,” she says, grabbing onto your arm. 

You meet her with a puzzled look, not quite understanding that she’s changing her mind on a whim. This is one part of your agreement that you both have always stuck to. 

“What? I’m—“

“Just…it’s fine. Don’t get it,” she says, giving you a look that could kill. “It’s been six months…right…”

You think it over, rolling the thought over and over in your mind. “You sure?” 

She nods, “Yeah, yeah I’m sure. I’m…we’re good. I promise.”

You feel your heart growing in your chest, feeling a new wave of anxiousness and…something else bubbling up. It’s almost blinding you to even think about what’s about to take place, this already feels so different than before. 

The slick of the oil across your chests make your bodies slide against one another as you line yourself up, both hands on either side of her head. Her hands gently drift across your hips, a devilish smirk sneaking across her lips. 

“Gonna feel you for real for the first time…” she says gently, looking more excited than you’d seen her in ages. 

“Yeah, no pressure,” you answer, pressing yourself through her folds. The sensation alone is making you quake, feeling her against you without a barrier. 

“What, you nervous or something?” She asks, digging her nails into your scalp. 

You clench your jaw, feeling the tip enter her just a little bit. “Kinda.”

“Daniel…shut up. No you’re not.”

“I swear,” you reply, pressing in just a little more. “Different now, like this.” You feel your heart beating from your ribcage. 

Her hands grip behind you, pulling you in towards her, but you hold back. “S’okay, just me… please…” Her legs lift and her ankles cross at your lower back. 

You push forward, telling yourself it’s okay to fill her all the way to the hilt. It’s now or never, and you’ve waited so long for this, wanted her for real for so long. You make sure to watch her face as you bottom out, taking in every single detail that you can. 

HER POV

It’s almost dreamlike…

The dim and comforting glow of the room, the sweet scented oil that’s relaxed your muscles, the dying feeling of excitement from the gift Danny had gotten you…

But mostly, the feeling of his body towering over you and buried as deeply as he can get, finally without the use of protection. 

You’d been wanting Danny for real for longer than you’d like to admit, now, and now that it’s finally happening, it’s almost as if you couldn’t have dreamt it up any better. Of course he feels nervous…you do too. Something in the air has shifted, and it’s not just because you both had finally admitted to wanting more than your predisposed agreement. 

“Fuck, Danny…” you can’t help but yelp in a pitiful high-pitched squeal. Feels just like you always thought, but somehow better. 

Much, much better. 

He begins to pick up a pace after you lock your ankles against him harder, forcing his hips to find a rhythm. “You good?” he asks, almost shyly. 

“Yeah, better than good, shit…”

His left hand grips your jaw with a little force before he brings his lips to yours in a heated mess. His thrusts are working in perfect time, hitting you in just the right spot to tighten the knot deep inside you already. 

“You feel so perfect baby…god, never thought I’d have you like this…” his lips are hot against your skin as he speaks, his teeth nipping at your sensitive spots every few seconds. 

“Leave a mark, baby… gimmie a reminder…” you breathe into his ear, making the light nips on your chest switch into slightly painful lovebites that you’re positive you’ll be able to see turn into bright red marks tomorrow. He growls into your skin as his teeth sink in just enough to make you squirm beneath him.

Though the room is flickering with a tangerine glow, the multicolored vibrance of the light flashing behind your eyes brings a whole new depth to what you’re experiencing, an overwhelming feeling of unwarranted pleasure that is undoubtedly ripping you apart at the seams. He’s all you’ve ever wanted, better than anything you’ve ever felt, and he’s been living under the same roof as your best friend for way too long.

You can tell he’s getting closer by the tumbling of his thrusts, but you swear you never want it to end. The euphoria taking over your mind is making you dizzy. 

Suddenly he slows down a little bit, rolling himself to the bed but keeping himself inside as he plucks you to straddle his lap. Your hands find his pecs as you begin swirling your hips, feeling him at a completely different angle, now. His curls are laid out behind him on the white blankets, and his chest is gleaming from the oils. 

You begin bouncing on him, his hands gripping into the thick muscle of your thighs as you grind on him. His head leans back, his jaw moving between hanging open and clenching tightly. “Y/N, shit…I’m not gonna be…”

You can feel the twist in your stomach, the deep tightening letting you know that you are close, too. You lean down and press a slow and needing kiss to his lips, showing him all the emotion that’s currently coursing through your body in the act. “Me too baby, just do it. Want to feel you…” you stammer through the ravaging feeling of your impending orgasm. You squeeze him hard, sending you both over the edge, tumbling down together in a flustered mess of echoed praises for one another. 

He stays buried inside you for just a few seconds as you both come down, neither of you wanting to be the first to speak when you finally catch your breath. After a minute of silence, you let yourself come out of the cloudy bliss, sliding yourself up and off of him. 

As soon as your body hits the bed beside him, he’s craning over you again, gathering you up into his arms into the most loving embrace you’d felt from him yet. 

“Every six months isn’t gonna work for me anymore, Y/N…” he admits, fully submitting himself with an honest look in his eye. “I just…”

“Me neither, Danny. It’s not enough. Won’t ever be enough,” you admit, taking his face in your hands. And it was true, after experiencing him tonight in the way that you did, there was no way you’d ever be able to wait for him again. There’s too much emotion involved that you’ve both been hiding for too long. Too much still yet to explore. 

“Stay, please? And not just for tonight,” he whispers, his thumb gliding across your cheek. 

You nod. You know there’s nothing on this earth you want more than to wake up every day next to him…the friend who has always been just a little bit more. 

“Okay,” you concede, sliding your body into his. 

“Okay? Yeah?” He asks with an excited lilt. 

“Yes. I’m not going anywhere,” you respond. “Couldn’t leave you if I wanted to...”

The low chuckle that rumbles through his chest and onto your cheek pressed against it feels so longingly familiar that you wonder why you ever thought it wouldn’t work out to begin with. “What took you so long?” he asks, wrapping and squeezing you hard. 

“Could ask you the same…” you laugh into his chest. 

You fall asleep with him that night a different woman than the one you were when you walked into his room, and not just because you’re a year older, now. You’d finally gotten everything you’d ever wanted. 

Danny nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, sleep already lacing his voice. A soft feeling of comfort washes over you as you realize how safe and protected you feel in his arms, and how you aren’t too shy to admit that this feels more right than you could have ever anticipated.

Now you won’t have to wait six months to share your love with him again. You’ll be able to share it with him tomorrow, over coffee in the kitchen.

He presses a sweet kiss to your temple as you let the heaviness of sleep overtake you, already falling into a dazed place of complete contentment.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

.

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