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janitorhutcherson · 1 year ago

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Marked Only for Me (Olderbf!Mike Schmidt NSFW)

hii!! okay, i have never written smut before, so i am begging you all to plz be patient with me! this is very long, so my apologies.this is a part of my olderbf!mike series, so hope u guys likeee. also, for this let's make the assumption mike went to college and all of that before his security jobs. he just had burn out and was there, hence why he's working for a major company with what would be little experience. anyways, lmk what u think!

summary: mike comes home and needs to blow off some steam

warnings: nudity, sex, name calling, hair pulling, choking, marking, possessiveness, an implied free use situation, fluff at the end!!

word count: 2,925

nsfw after the cut!!

You were sitting at the kitchen table doing homework in the home you shared with your boyfriend, Mike. You're 20, a couple of years into college, drudging through math problems that make your head feel like it's sitting inside a frying pan. You had to admit this wasn't your ideal way to relax after a 10-hour shift at the bookstore you helped run. Things had been hectic with Black Friday, your store doing a special sale where everything was 50% off, and bookworms were coming out of random corners to fill their already overflowing shelves for cheap. Of course, being younger, you were the one who had to do the grunt work, carrying piles of books to and from inventory, dealing with the more demanding customers as your older coworkers would tell you that they "just couldn't handle kids these days" and that it'd certainly be better for the younger one to do it. Luckily, though, Abby was at a friend's house, meaning you didn't have distractions. You were as focused as could be with a cup of coffee beside you, the sunlight that was once beaming through the cracks of the blinds now completely gone. You were focused, your brain functioning as much as it would with the problems. Things were quiet.

...That is until Mike stormed in. He was frustrated, angry, an invisible red-hot aura beaming off him. His hair was messier than it typically was. The softness in his eyes was instead replaced with a cold look. His eyebrows were furrowed together on his forehead, his jaw sharp and defined as he gritted his teeth. Although this wasn't common, it wasn't necessarily rare either. Mike worked for a publishing company as a marketing manager. He'd gotten the job after a few months of hard work to make up for the slack on his resume after working at the mall and the pizzeria. He moved up the ladder quickly, his company admiring his friendly attitude and his somewhat shy but personable behavior. He loved his job much more than his past ones. He felt happier, got more time off, was less stressed, and was definitely safer. Even with that being said, sometimes shit just pissed him off.

Today's big issue was a meeting with his marketing team, which also involved the big guy over his head. He felt like he was criticized, demeaned, dragged through the mud, and all in front of the team he was supposed to be respected by, listened to. On a typical day, this might not have pissed him off so much. He might've mentally plotted the demise of his boss, but he wouldn't have caused the outburst he did at work, and today had been particularly awful. He'd been late, burned his breakfast, knicked himself while shaving, and even gotten into what he considered to be a little fight with you the night before. Even though you'd both settled the argument, made up, and kissed before bed, he had been thinking about it all day. He'd then spilled coffee on his brand new tie, leaving a stain, and then... that happened. Mike snapped. He yelled at his boss, showing his ass in front of everyone, causing a meeting in his boss's office to end with an inevitable write-up.

Now, he was home, trudging in all his bad energy, disrupting your study time. You couldn't even be frustrated with him, his demeanor proving he'd obviously had a bad day. You went to stand up to greet him with a hug, a kiss or two, but before you could, Mike stormed over to you, grabbing your arm harshly. You gasped, slightly thrown off by his sudden actions. He pulled you closer to him, his eyes locked on yours and his breath heavy against your neck.

"What the fuck, Mike?" you said, your eyebrows furrowed as you stared into his cold brown-green orbs.

"Listen to me," he grunted, his voice low and gravely. "I have had a very, very bad day, and I need you to be a good girl for me, okay? I don't want no shit, no back talk, you'll listen to what I say.. do you understand?"

His hand still gripped your arm, his fingernails digging into your skin. You could feel yourself starting to drip, your panties feeling damp against your skin as your body buzzed with excitement. All you could do was nod your head, your eyes locked on his as they clouded over with lust. Mike snapped his fingers in your face, looking at you from underneath his eyebrows.

"Use your words," he demanded.

"Yes sir, I understand," you stuttered out, your cheeks flushing red. Mike's face was now pleased, his entire demeanor softening a little. His hand stayed wrapped around your arm as he tugged you into the living room, pushing you roughly onto the couch. You huffed from the impact, your eyes widening as Mike dropped to his knees before you. He slid your sweatpants off, prying your knees open to reveal your see-through pink panties soaked beyond belief. His eyes were hungry, his mouth open, almost drooling as he looked directly into your eyes.

"All for me, babydoll?" he teased, his hand sliding in between your legs as he drew small circles around your clothed clit. You nodded your head as a whimper escaped your lips, the aching in between your legs only growing worse.

"What did I tell you?" he said, his words sharp as he smacked the inside of your thigh.

"Yes sir," you corrected, your words wavering after the impact from his hand. Mike nodded, satisfied with your answer, as he slowly slid your panties down your thighs, wasting no time. You gasped once again as the cold air hit your wet cunt. Mike exhaled sharply, taking a moment to admire you in front of him. His eyes trailed up to your pathetic look, your already-glazed-over eyes, down to your barely clothed chest, only a sports bra covering your breasts he loved so much, then down to in between your legs, where you were so wet, and all just for him. His lips trailed up to your tummy, sucking on the skin in different areas, from above your abdomen all the way up to right below where your sports bra stayed, purple marks forming.

He then dove in without hesitation, his large hands gripping your sides as he leaned in, moving one hand to take his index and middle finger to spread your pussy lips. His mouth instantly attached to your clit. You yelped as you bucked your hips forward, his lips meeting the sensitive area. Mike pinched your thigh, a sign to quiet down until he said to do otherwise, two of his fingers reaching out to be shoved into your mouth.

“Suck,” he demanded, his fingers going as far back down your throat as they could. You did what you were told, sucking on his fingers and drawing your own circles with your tongue. His tongue drew tiny and slow circles against the set of nerves, your hands reaching down to tangle in his hair from desperation. God, he loved eating you out. The way you yelped, quivered, shook underneath him, your hands tangled in his hair to keep yourself from going over the edge. He fucking loved it, you were the perfect cure to his anger, calming, something he could take it out on in a productive way that made everyone feel good. Your whines were suppressed as you bit your lip, your teeth digging into the softer skin. Mike pulled away for a moment, his eyes locking with yours once again as he admired your face, your now swollen lips.

“You know what, baby? Be as loud as you want for me now, princess,” he mumbled, going back to attacking your wet cunt. Slurping sounds filled the living room mixed with your moans and whimpers as his tongue slid up and down your slit, his lips wrapping around your clit to suck as hard as possible when his tongue wasn’t fucking inside of you. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. His cock was rock hard inside of his work pants, his own face flustered as he rocked back and forth against himself. His tongue continued to lap at your clit as he slid two of his large fingers in and out of you, your walls clenching around them. You could feel yourself drawing close and Mike could tell. Your thighs attempted to clench around his head, but before they could his calloused hands pried them open, holding them apart. Just as your eyes began to clamp shut, your thighs shaking as the knot in your stomach started to untie, Mike pulled away. You gasped as he slipped his fingers out, furrowing your eyebrows as you stared at him with an angry glare. He chuckled as he stood up, raising his eyebrows up and down as he leaned down, his hand lifting your chin up.

“Poor baby, was all ready to finish for me, hm? You were gonna be ‘Mikey’s little slut,’ weren’t you? That’s what you tell me you are, right? My little slut?” he teased, no remorse behind his eyes. You huffed, punching his arm before crossing your arm, too out of it to say anything from the knot that remained in your stomach but too angry to take initiative.

“Awh, don’t be mad, princess,” he snickered, shaking his head as he leaned further down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “You really think I’m done with you?”

With that being said, Mike pushing you back on the couch. His right hand held you down as his lift struggled to unbutton his pants. He pulled his pants down, letting them fall around his ankles as he yanked his boxers off, his cock springing out. He stepped out of them, letting you go for a moment to unbutton his shirt before tossing it off as well. Mike then looked over to you, leaning forward, ripping your thin sports bra off of your chest, your breasts now exposed to him. He licked his lips, excitement overflowing his body. He crawled on top of you, attempting to make the two of you fit on the couch. His mouth attacked your nipples, biting and gnawing at your skin. His mouth moved up to your neck, sucking and prodding and biting until purple marks were left all around, ones you were all too aware would be impossible to hide later on. He moved down to your chest once again, marks all across your collarbone, your tits. Mike’s hands gripped onto your neck as he sat up, looking into your glossed over eyes. He pressed his lips to your ear, a soft kiss against your earlobe.

“’M about to fuck you so hard you see stars,” he said, his voice causing prickles to cover your skin. Then, without hesitation Mike slammed into you, his pace staggered. Your moans were as loud as could be, the sound of skin hitting against each other and the echoes of both of your voices filling the living room. His thrusts were sloppy as he felt himself starting to get close to the edge, his hands pushing your hips down and into the couch. Your entire body sunk into the cushions as he used everything in him, his cock abusing your poor cunt. You swore you saw stars until you felt his hand gently smack against your cheek, your eyes averting back to his gaze.

“You’re gonna look at me when I fuck you, princess,” he growled, his hand sliding up to your hair as he tugged. You grew close, clenching around his length, your thighs starting to shake. Your core was threatening to come undone.

“Fuck, Mikey, baby, I’m gonna fucking cum,” you whimpered out, closing your eyes as your head leaned back against the side of the couch.

“Cum for me, baby,” Mike stated. You did as he demanded, finishing around his cock as your liquids gushed against him. His thrusts grew sloppier before he pulled out, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that baby? You did so good for me, listening to what I said, letting me use your pretty cunt,” he stated, his thumb caressing your cheek. He then resituated, pulling you off the couch, pushing you onto the ground. You were now in the same position he was in earlier, completely fucked out. Your lips were dull from exhaustion, your cheeks red and your hair knotted in certain areas. Mike’s cock was directly in front of you, his hand guiding for you to suck on him. Your lips wrapped around his tip, the tip of your tongue licking his slit. You worked your mouth down his length, licking the sides. Mike’s moans became frantic, desperate as your mouth worked its magic. His hand tangled in your hair as he pushed your head up and down, thrusting up into your mouth.

“That’s it, baby, feels so good,” he grunted. With no warning, Mike pulled out, spilling his load all over your face. He twitched, his moans loud and low, your tongue stuck out to catch his cum. His body laid against the couch, feeling heavy as his head leaned against the back of his couch. A tired grin was on his lips as you also smiled up at him, licking yourself clean. Mike looked down at you, a chuckle releasing his lips. It was obvious all of the tension and anger was gone, as his once cold eyes were once again the soft loving brown they used to be. He looked at you with adoration, always amused by how gorgeous you were even after rigorous activity and getting your face painted.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, picking you up bridal style as he leaned down to kiss you, not caring about his own load that was now on his face. He sat you down on the bathroom counter, grabbing a washcloth out of the cabinet, running it under warm water. He started to wipe away all of the liquids covering your face, pressing kisses to your skin here and there, looking your body up and down as he admired all of the marks he left.

“You always know how to make me feel good and how to take care of me after,” you croaked out, your voice laced with exhaustion as you smiled. Mike smiled back at you, his hand tenderly touching your cheek before pushing your hair behind your ear.

“I love you, of course I want to make sure ‘m taking care of you,” he said softly. His lips once again pressed against yours. “Thank you for letting me… you know.. blow off some steam,” he said, wiggling his brows.

“Of course, honey. I was worried, though. Is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, leaning forward as you slid off of the counter, grabbing a new washcloth and beginning to wipe his face with it as well. Mike sighed, shaking his head as he looked at her with sad eyes.

“I just- I got into it pretty badly with my boss at work and got criticized, I felt like a wounded animal, like I had to fight. I’m so used to having to fight that I don’t know how to shut up and listen,” he mumbled. “It was so bad, Y/N, and I got written up after that awful day I had this morning… I just.. I don’t know. I do know I feel better now, and would feel even better if we cuddled for a bit and then went out for food?” he suggested, spilling his thoughts to you. You giggled, nodding your head as you reached up to press a kiss to him. You dragged him into your shared bedroom, the two of you cuddling up together under the blankets. You turned to your side, your eyes locked with his.

“I love you, Mike, so much. And I’m so, so unbelievably proud of you. Thank you, for always making me feel good too, for taking care of me, for being such a good brother to Abby, just… thank you,” you said softly. Mike looked back at you lovingly, his appreciation for you apparent.

“I love you, princess, you don’t even know how much,” he mumbled. His eyes were heavy. He leaned over and set an alarm for an hour from now, the two of you planning on a night of dinner out and grocery shopping. He curled his arm around you lazily, your body limp and exhausted against his as you yawned.

“Oh, and baby?” he asked. You hummed, lifting your head to meet his eyes. “Wear a crop top when we go out, I want everyone to see you all marked up.” You giggled as you laid your head down, drifting off to sleep.

When you two went out, you did just that, wearing a cropped scoop neck shirt with a low-rise flowy skirt. He showed off any marks you’d left, too, your possessive boyfriend holding you close anytime someone’s eyes linger too long. Mike was strange, possessive, and sometimes a little of what most would say was unsettling, but to you, he was the love of your life, the man who made you feel good, the one who fucked you until you couldn’t think. You loved him, and you always would, blessing you with a lifelong supply of angry sex and aftercare cuddles.

#josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine #mike schmidt smut #olderbf!mike

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writersdrug · 3 months ago

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Training for Two

Chapter 6: Pup Cup

Masterlist

Summary: Simon unexpectedly runs into you... and your friends... and Tyler.

Warnings: dissociation, jealousy

It was finally Saturday - a Saturday where you had cleared your schedule, and so had Leslie and Nina. AND Tyler. Which was maybe once every two months. So, you had made plans to get brunch with the girls, the three of you deciding to dress up a bit and get mimosas. Tyler had promised to swing by around one to take you around the city, then to spend a cozy day at his apartment.

Right now, it was girl time. The three of you had your mimosa pitcher and a shared basket of fries, delving into each other's personal drama.

"And then Marcie asked me to pick up this Saturday - today, mind you - because she forgot the two interns were finished this Thursday. Of course, I told her no, in the most professional way I could - and she had the audacity to say I needed to pick up more slack. Me!!"

Nina scoffed. Your jaw dropped open. "You've been there the longest!"

Leslie nodded. "Longer than her, too! God, I could've let her have it, right then and there-" she sighed, leaning back in her seat. "Of course, I didn't. But I made sure she knew I would not be coming in on my day off, that I had planned for weeks."

You snapped your fingers in applause, making Leslie chuckle. "Bravo to you - we love seeing women fighting women in the workplace."

"Oh, stuff it." She laughed, swatting your hands away. "Feels like an episode of 'The Office,' if you ask me. Just too bloody insane to be real."

You hummed thoughtfully, taking a sip of your mimosa. Your eyes wandered down to your purse, hanging from the side of your chair, your phone tucked away within. I wonder what Simon's up to... what does he do on his days off?

"Speaking of women in the workplace..." Leslie turns to Nina, who was scowling at her phone. "Who's got you so irate on a Saturday?"

"Idiots, that's who." She grumbled, furiously punching away at the keyboard on her screen. "It's as if the minute I take a personal vacation, everyone and their grandmother suddenly need a wedding planner." She sighed and tucked her phone back into her purse. "I'm sorry..."

You and Leslie shook your head, reassuring her that it was alright. God forbid she starts falling into the "I work so hard and get nothing in return" schpeel - which would be believable and understandable, if it wasn't for the fact that she played that card every time the three of you were together.

"Did you hear she started dog-sitting?" Leslie said, nodding in your direction.

That snapped Nina out of her own head. "You did? What does that have to do with your design work?"

You huffed. "Well, it doesn't - but, and I told you this, Leslie" - she laughed at your glare - "that I was just looking for a house-sitting gig, like what I did before I left that stupid company. Just until I got a few clients to myself, and could start my own business."

"Busy bee..." Leslie commented, and Nina nodded in agreement.

"Not nearly as you two - remember how hard it was for me and Tyler to have a weekend together? Now I'm the one waiting for him. He's even started coming with me when I take Riley for walks - just to spend more time together."

"How sweet..." Leslie cooed.

"Riley?" Nina asked.

"The dog." You answered. "She's a wonderful dog, really. Used to be military, before her... injury..."

You trailed off, staring at something between Leslie's and Nina's heads. They stared at you in confusion for a moment, until you beamed widely and started waving your hand. They turned to stare at whomever had caught your attention.

Simon wasn't one for "get-togethers," as he heard them called. He was perfectly fine spending his leave at home, only leaving to walk Riley or get his groceries and smokes. He'd occasionally text the team and see what they were up to, but other than that - he had no problem living like a hermit.

Soap was the one to suggest the idea of the team getting lunch together, since they were all nearby for work. Of course, Gaz was never one to turn down a group outing; once he was in, Price had decided they all might as well go. ("Should be a team off the field too, right?")

So that's how Simon had been forced to come out of his cave. And no, it might not seem like he was forced... but it would be rude of him not to go, so therefore, societal standards were forcing him. That, and Soap would bitch about him being a "bawbag" for weeks if he didn't tag along.

He decided to bring Riley with him, since it had been a few weeks since she had seen everyone. She looked around as she panted, walking besides Simon through the mildly-crowded sidewalk. It was a decent Saturday afternoon, with a mix of cloud and sun hanging in the sky. Simon wore his usual jeans and a sweatshirt, along with a black surgical mask.

He needed a head start for the day. Not that he didn't enjoy spending time with his team outside of work... but people were exhausting, especially when he was forced into proximity with them. He needed a few hours to himself, in public, just to wake up his social battery. The best way to achieve that? Tea, Riley, and people-watching.

So that's how he found himself, next in line at the coffee counter of a restaraunt he’d been to a few times before. He had his hands shoved in his pockets as he held Riley's leash; her head was on a swivel, sniffing the aromas that wafted through the air, and the occasional hand of each person who passed her. Simon was thankful people were wary of his presence - it kept everyone from trying to lean down and pet Riley without his permission.

The customer in front of him moved away from the counter, and Simon stepped forward. The girl behind the cash register smiled at him, wiping her hands on her apron.

"What can I get for you, sir?"

"Jus' a tea. Medium, no sugar, no cream."

"Would you like the passionfruit tea or the mint berry mixer? Or our jasmine goddess?"

"... d'you have black tea?"

She chuckled. "Yeah, I'll get your black tea."

Simon huffed as he put his cash on the counter. Don' get why tha's funny...

He watched as she moved - rather sluggishly, he thought. Despite that her makeup did a fantastic job of hiding how tired she must have been, he could see it in her eyes and actions. The way she stood there, shoulders slightly slumped as she watched the hot water pour into Simon's cup, her arms resting heavily against the counter. He looked behind him briefly, noticing how long the line was for the cafe. Not to mention she had dine-in orders to fulfill, too... and she's alone at the coffee bar. He turned back, watching as she fought to make sure the lid was properly secured on his cup. It made him a bit nervous, how she supported nearly all of her weight onto the top. What if it crumples? What if she gets burnt? Is there a burn kit behind the shelf? Probably not-

Riley whined, snapping Simon’s attention away from the barista and down towards her. She licked her lips and stared up at him curiously.

She always knows.

He sighed, patting her flank. "Thanks, girl."

The barista returned with his tea, as well as a small cup of whipped cream with a dog biscuit poking out of it. “For your friend.” She said with a too-tight smile.

Simon stared blankly at the whipped cream cup. "I didn't order tha’.” He said bluntly.

“It’s on the house! Pup cups are free.” She said, nudging the two items towards Simon. “Don’t worry, there’s no added sugars in the whipped cream, and the treat is allergen-free.”

Why does everyone assume dogs have allergies? Simon thought to himself. He glanced at Riley for a brief moment – she looked back at him, certainly not expecting a treat, not yet. She’d hounded him enough for those goddamn biscuits all morning, the ones you’d been spoiling her with, and he had no choice but to follow the routine and gave her one. This created a cycle that sent him to the doggie-daycare once a week to pick up more, since the old woman who made them only sold them there. Without even intending to, most likely, you were taking more from his wallet than he had hired you for. Not that he minded… it was all for Riley, however, he was almost certain he’d buy a fucking parrot if you were the one convincing him.

Riley let out a garbled sound, making Simon realize he was still staring at her. And holding up the line. Shit, socializing was more taxing than he thought…

“Thanks…” he mumbled, grabbing his drink and the cup of whipped cream. He carefully directed himself and Riley through the crowd and over to the condiment shelf, setting both items down and adjusting his grip on Riley’s leash. He still had a few hours to kill; it’s a bit cramped in here, he thought as he grabbed a handful of napkins, eyeing the throng of coffee addicts and beatniks in the cafe, there’s always the bench by the fountain on Muller and 4th street, that might-

The sight of your familiar, perfect, sparkling eyes sucked the air and the thoughts from his body in a matter of a single second. That bright personality speared him like a harpoon as you waved from across the café, beckoning him over with a waggle of your fingers. His mind was trying to catch up after being knocked off of its feet, and he finally inhaled.

You looked equally surprised to see him - but he wasn't paying attention to that. He noticed your eyeliner and lipstick, how it made your features even brighter than they typically were. You'd worn your hair down, which was the first time he'd seen it like this since he hired you. Your nails were painted a soft pink, which accentuated the mimosa glass like an orange sunset across a blush sky... and your dress. Of course, it was bright and floral, just like your personality. But it was soft, too. The way it fitted so nicely around you - not too tight, perfectly settled around your shoulders and hips, making you look delicate. Simon was sure if he was to reach out and touch your arm, it would feel like he'd touched the skin of an angel.

He was too stunned to wave back, still frozen in the one spot by the counter as people flowed around him like river water around a stone. It wasn't until Riley had noticed you too and began whining that Simon finally gathered his bearings and nodded his head at you, stuffing the napkins in his pocket.

Two other heads swiveled around from your table and eyed him curiously, and for a moment, he groaned internally; you were with friends. Not horrible, but... not ideal. He didn't care to talk to anyone other than you at the moment – really, ever. Still, you were here, and that trumped all other factors. His anxieties moved to the sidelines when you were on the other end of the path. He clicked his tongue at Riley and grabbed his tea, carefully weaving through patrons and tables to get to you.

"Simon!" You chirped when he approached; you stood up and on your toes, reaching your arms to give him a side hug. He awkwardly stood there, attempting to hug you back by letting his arm curve around your upper back, careful not to spill his tea. Before he could stop himself, he took a deep, quiet breath in, nearly sighing at the smell of your perfume.

So floral and... sweet. Like the bookstore/plant nursery hybrid that he passes when he walks through town on his way for groceries.

You pulled away, and he straightened up. He was suddenly aware of the other two women staring at him.

"So sorry!" You said, turning to your friends. "Simon- this is Leslie, and Nina."

"��Ello." He said quietly, uninterested, and they each responded with their own "hi's". Leslie looked at him with a scrutinous stare, and he could feel her trying to peel him apart layer by layer. She looked like a corporate junkie, with her tight bun and high heels. Nina... she was... odd. She looked at him with her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes half-lidded... it made him uncomfortable. Both with the way she shamelessly ogled, and with how her eyes seemed to be a few unfortunate centimeters too far apart.

"And this is Riley!" You said, bending down and ruffling the dog’s fur. "How ya been, girl?"

She blinked at you as you pet her, sniffing the air between your face and hers. Her tongue hung out of her mouth as she panted, nearly smiling up at you if she could have.

"Ya gone and spoiled her." Simon commented, feeling something warm at the sight of you and Riley. "She wants me to tuck 'er in every day, now. And she's got me runnin' to the dog daycare every week for those bloody biscuits."

Leslie pursed her lips, thinking Simon was being rather rude. You laughed, sitting back down in your seat. "She wasn't spoiled enough, in my opinion. Did she drag you to Poeheko Park yet?"

"She did. Thought I's about to be mugged."

You laughed again. Simon wished he could bottle the sound and keep it in his pocket, so he could pull it out and listen to it over and over whenever he wanted.

"I don't think anyone could mug you, Simon." You said, absentmindedly stroking Riley's fur as she sat next to you.

So you thought he was strong? Invincible? Oh, that did something to him.

"What do you do, Simon?" Leslie asked, sipping her mimosa. "For work?"

Definitely corporate... he thought, from the way her question sounded slightly interrogatory.

"Military." He said bluntly.

Nina's lips curled into a smile; he chose to ignore it.

"Her too?" Leslie pointed at Riley, who sniffed her extended hand.

"She was..." Simon looked down at her, a bit pleased that Riley huffed in distaste at the 'stranger'. "Retired. And a rotten princess now, thanks to you." He turned back to you, his expression lighting up the tiniest bit.

You could sense something - what it was exactly, you couldn't put your finger on it. Simon seemed... tense. Uncomfortable. Maybe he didn't like being thrown into social settings with people he didn't know. You understood it.

"Well-" you said, trying to ignore the way Nina stared at him. "I don't want to interrupt your morning."

"You weren't." He said, still looking at you.

You sent him a glance, and laughed nervously. He continued watching you - God bless anyone who was ever in a staring contest with this man - as Riley sat next to him obediently. Fuck, she was staring at you too...

Leslie looked back and forth between the two of you for a moment, with you blushing furiously, and Simon watching you like you were prey - fortunately, she found an opportunity to come for your rescue.

"Oh, Tyler's here, luv." She said, tilting her head towards the space behind you.

You turned in your seat and smiled, just as a man came up and whisked you out of your chair. You threw your arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek, and he smiled as his arms wrapped around your waist.

"Thought you were coming by around one?" You said, pulling back to look at his face.

"I was able to pick up the kit from work earlier than I expected, so I thought I'd come by now." He briefly waved at Leslie and Nina, tucking you into his side. "Sorry girls - lookin' lovely, by the way - but I'm stealin' her a bit early today."

Nina waved her hand dismissively. "We had something planned for tomorrow too; go right ahead." Leslie nodded in agreement.

Tyler smiled. "Perfect. Glad it's not too much of a- woah..."

He turned to look – to really take in the sight of the hulking, brooding man beside you, and he was very visibly taken aback. Simon's soft stare had turned into a cold, unforgiving glare. His eyes were hardened with - something. Maybe anger, maybe authority. He stood rigid and tall, with his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, as he bore holes into Tyler's frame.

Simon took him in: soft, brown hair, a slight tan, rough hands, yet soft features. Slight wrinkles around the eyes from smiling too much. A white shirt and jeans, with a plaid – it made sense, now where your stash had come from.

He liked the way that Tyler was a bit intimidated, as evident by the look in his eyes. What he didn't like, was... Tyler. How he held you close. How you let him hold you. And how he himself felt the urge to snatch you from Tyler's grasp and march you out of the cafe.

"Oh, sorry-" your voice brought them both out of their trance. "Tyler, this is Simon. My client."

"Ah!" Tyler smiled, relaxing a bit as he held his hand out. "Nice to meet you!"

Simon grabbed it firmly, making Tyler wince the tiniest bit as he shook his hand. "Likewise." Not in the slightest.

When he released his hand, Tyler bent down to Riley and offered his hand for a sniff. "I know we've met before, girl."

Simon felt something stir in his gut as Riley sniffed Tyler's hand. "Y' have?" He asked, his voice a bit harsh.

"He's never been in your house." You said quickly, trying to diffuse the tension in the air. "He just tags along for the walks sometimes. Keeps us company.”

Riley IS the company. Y’ don’t need an extra, luv.

"Mm." Simon said gruffly, looking down at Riley. She was sniffing Tyler's closed fist, then leaning back to stare up at Simon. She huffed in distaste.

He fought the urge to smirk. Good girl.

"What do you do, Simon?" Tyler asked, trying to be friendly.

Nina cleared her throat. He's milita-"

"Special Armed Services." Simon interrupted. "Ten years."

Tyler looked impressed. "Shit- that's tough, mate. Makes sense with how you- y'know..." he gestured to Simon's frame, then dropped his hands and cleared his throat. "Eh, nevermind."

"I's fine." Simon replied, standing a bit taller. "What d'you do?"

"Ah- heh, nothin' that impressive. Electrician."

Simon nodded, though it wasn't the answer he was hoping for. It was hard to completely emasculate a man when he did blue-collar work. And even harder when Tyler seemed to respect Simon. It was one thing to be an asshole to an asshole, but it was another to be an asshole to a decent man.

He had to reign himself in. Tyler was your boyfriend. Why was he trying to show the poor lad up after knowing him all for a minute and a half?

"Well, erm..." Leslie cut in. "Looks like you two need to get going, and we're nearly finished here." She smiled at Simon. "It was lovely meeting you!"

"Yeah mate!" Tyler said. "Nice to finally meet you!"

Simon paused for a moment. Normally, he would love to be ripped out of a conversation like this - but now, he'd suffer through the company of a few, annoying strangers if it meant he got to talk to you. But, he obliged, sensing that Leslie wanted him gone for a reason.

"Yeah, likewise." He said, giving Riley a pat, then he looked at you. "Might need you t' watch 'er soon, but I'll email you."

"I'll keep an eye out for it." You said with a flashy smile. "See you later, Simon!"

He grunted and nodded his head, then left them all at the table. Riley stayed dutifully by his side as they made their way through the crowd of cafe patrons.

Simon tried to smell your perfume for as long as it would cling to his shirt. Soon, the scents of coffee, sugar, and teas washed it out, and the lingering warmth your scent brought him had also vanished. The bitterness came right back into his throat, coating his tongue and making him grimace under his mask and his fists clench in his pockets.

Tyler seemed like a good man, and you were happy. He had no business feeling so possessive over something that wasn't his - something that belonged to someone else. He felt like he was missing a screw - his emotions were completely out of control, and he acted compulsively when it came to you. He told himself, as he walked out of the cafe and into the busy sidewalk, that the disappointment of discovering that you were Tyler's would be a good opportunity to work on himself.

He sighed, continuing down the path to the pub. Riley huffed as she trotted next to him, and he suddenly remembered the cup of whipped cream and the dog treat – most likely still abandoned on the condiment counter of the restaurant. “Don’ worry, girl, you can have some’f Johnny’s chips.”

Next ->

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley #cod fanfiction #cod mw3 #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod #cod x reader

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miupow · 4 months ago

Note

Ok so I saw you answer the Soobin’s housewife ask and now I need headcannons about being all members of TXT’s housewife.

ʚ・ ceo!txt + their housewives ! ꒰ sfw +nsfw headcanons꒱

cw // nsfw content , mdni ! housewife!fem!reader , dom!txt , kind of sub!soobin, (kind of) sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics, oral (f. rec) mention, spanking, oral (m.rec), semi-public sex, traditional gender roles, creampies, sex toys mention

♡ ⸝⸝ SOOBIN .ᐟ

-> first off, this man is beyond whipped for his wife. a complete simp. he lets her walk all over him and he likes it. he’s always liked a woman that’s a little more in charge <3

-> he gets her whatever she wants whenever she wants it, can never say no to her puppy eyes, so he always has to think hard on what to do for holidays… lavish overseas trips for her birthday, custom designer for their anniversary. only the best for his queen !!

-> he can’t even fathom how he got so lucky !! coming home from work to dinner and a kiss, getting to hold you close and wind down from all of the stress <3 dessert is your wet pussy sat on his face, you played with yourself all day so you’d be ready and eager for him by the time he came home !!

-> will talk anyones ear off about his wife if he gets the opportunity to lol, has your wedding photos on his desk and your boobs in his wallet <3

-> his wifey is a little bratty but he loves you like that !! thinks it’s so cute when you squirm in his lap and beg for whatever it is you saw online that day, loves when you get pouty and bitchy because he told you no! he wants you to convince him to say yes!!

-> riding his cock so good he starts crying out his credit card information lol

-> follows you around holding your bags while you shop, puppy love look on his face hehe >< always so enamored by you and your beauty, he just can’t believe you’re his !!

-> which makes him extremely possessive over you… he’ll get nasty over the smallest things, like a waiter being a little too friendly, one of his colleagues making glances at you he doesn’t like… will ruin you over it in a heartbeat, let them listen to you cry in pleasure as he fingerfucks you in the bathroom hehe

-> is definitely the most submissive to his wife but that’s just how he likes it!! maybe even submissive to the point he likes calling her mommy but you didn’t hear that from me being led by the tie wherever you want to take him, let’s you manhandle him however you want even tho he’s so much bigger than you.. he’s just so soft

♡ ⸝⸝ YEONJUN .ᐟ

-> second biggest simp for his wife. he can hide it a little bit better tho lol .. but still not well , he’s bullied for being a total lapdog

-> like you keep his credit card in your purse you’re so spoiled. you don’t even have to ask!!

-> unlike soobin tho he does not like his wifey bratty. you better behave yourself, especially around his colleagues!!! don’t make him punish you, now.

-> always has you sitting on his lap any chance he gets!! he just loves the intimacy of it so much esp when he’s working in his office!!

-> loves coming with you clothes shopping!! getting to watch you try on all these pretty expensive clothes and put on a show for him!! he hypes u up so much!!! and maybe fucks you nasty in the dressing room

-> always taking pictures of you on all of the vacations and dates he takes you on!! your personal paparazzi <3 a picture of the two of you on your honeymoon is his phone lockscreen <3

-> you didn’t hear this from me okay but ceo yeonjun who’s a big exhibitionist… make u get on ur knees and deepthroat him in front of all of his business partners!!

♡ ⸝⸝ BEOMGYU .ᐟ

-> his wife is a little shit and so is he lmao !! both of them always scheming .. you both love to tease eachother so much until neither of you can take it anymore!!

-> plays with ur pussy under the table during a company dinner… he does not gaf !! and equally you palming his cock thru his slacks when he’s trying to focus on work!! takes u on a date with a vibrator in ur panties !! ride his dick when he’s on the phone with someone important!! constant back and forth hehe

-> total switch vibes from him tbh him and his wifey always fighting for dominance over eachother!!! aughhshsh!!!

-> if you forget to give him a kiss before he leaves for work in the morning his day will be completely ruined actually. standing in the doorway like “you forgot something >:(“ and refusing to leave until you kiss him ><

-> letting you do his hair for a meeting,,, sitting on the edge of the bed adjusting his suit while you brush and style his shaggy mullet <3

-> the most thoughtful presents ever!! always coming home with something in a little box, taking you on day trips that are picture perfect and he’s planned to a tee (and maybe stressed out over a little bit) !! making you happy makes him happy :(

-> he’s always keeping your marriage fun and exciting, nothing will ever get boring with him <3 even after years and years together you still get butterflies <33

-> rich husband gyu who was a chaebol baby and grew up rich lol.. he doesn’t really grasp the depth of his privilege but you grew up poor and he’s dedicated his life to giving you anything you could ever want and spoiling you completely rotten <3

♡ ⸝⸝ TAEHYUN .ᐟ

-> tyun loves a good, traditional household.. and as the man of the house, his wife needs to listen to his rules. and unless you want to be put over his lap and spanked, you better follow them <3

-> always be respectful to your husband and his colleagues. keep everything nice and clean. no begging or whining, only good wives get rewards. no touching yourself without his permission. always ask if you can cum. it may be a little too traditional for some women… but you love it <3 tyunnie treats you so good <3

-> calls you a brat all of the time but he’ll turn around and buy you whatever you want lol, he just enables ur behavior . tries to be strong but he can’t help but give in to everything you ask! giving him pretty puppy eyes and asking him to stay home sometimes works a little too well ><

-> he’s the best at hiding how absolutely down horrendous he is lmao. but his hand always on your waist or thigh gives him away!!! he always ALWAYS needs to be touching you or he’ll die actually

-> loves going to the gym with his wifey so he can flex his strength to her hehe, also loves it when all of the other guys at the gym stare at you in your cute tiny workout wear!! he knows u look so sexy and he loves how the other men can look but can’t touch <3 and if he grabs on ur ass a little bit in the weight room he’ll swear he didn’t mean to.

-> hubby tyun putting you in a headlock in doggy!!!! your knees on the carpet between tyuns legs sucking his dick with him sitting back in his home office chair !! making him his favorite for dinner cos you know he’s been stressed at work and him rewarding you by bending you over the kitchen counter!!!

-> he goes away on work trips often and it makes u so lonely :( but he always leaves you sweet gifts and stays in touch over the phone… texting you when he knows ur needy to remember to be a good girl and not touch yourself until your husband gets home <3

♡ ⸝⸝ HUENING KAI .ᐟ

-> golden retriever boyfriend upgrades to golden retriever husband !! he literally worships the ground you walk on

-> you’re insane if you think kai is ever “punishing” or “putting you in your place.” you can do absolutely whatever you want and kai will just watch with big puppy dog eyes !!! you can be as needy and whiny and bratty as you want, kai loves it!! go ahead and whine about how much you want that new pair of shoes, he’ll get them for you asap!!

-> only the softest, sweetest, gentlest sex !! lots of manhandling but that’s cos he’s just so strong he can’t help it !! loves taking care of his tiny little wifey fucking her and filling her pussy up <3 covered entirely by his broad frame

-> often asks his older business partners (the other boys) for help picking out gifts and planning dates for his love <3 he just needs to make sure he’s giving you the absolute best!! he wants you to feel like a princess, a queen <3

-> kai who wifed up his secretary or assistant lmaoo !! he was told getting work and pleasure mixed up would be a bad idea but he just couldn’t help himself!!! and he def made u quit after you got married so you can just stay home and he can spoil you <3

-> he takes out all of his stress from work on ur cunt !! the angrier he is the more rounds he goes until your dripping his cum and too exhausted to stop him from going again and again and again—

-> kisses you awake every morning <3 rubbing ur noses together in a sickingly cute display of affection in front of all of his colleagues.. y’all make them sick lmao !! he’s always giving you hugs and cuddles and kisses, calling you honey, sweetie, baby, dear <3 hes just so in love :(

#txt x reader #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt soft thoughts #txt soft hours #[ 💌 ] — requests !#[ 💌 ] — anon!

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emmyrosee · 10 months ago

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this is for the non curse bf!sukuna

when you first start going out he wouldn’t know what flowers to get you. he could ask you but- who tf asks their gf ‘hey what flowers do you like?’ he thinks that’s lame. so guy brings 5-6 diff flowers just for you.

can you imagine, him all tattooed and brooding buying you flowers in a pretty flower shop😭😭i’m crying :((((((

OKAY BUT IF HE DOES IT TO LIKE, ASK YOU TO BE HIS GF???

Like originally he was just going to take you out on a few dates, enjoy the company and yuuji and his Ma off his back, but that plan crumbled when he started to be the one to text you first. When he started to initiate dates. When he started to feel butterflies in his chest when you laughed.

Yuuji so graciously told him he had feelings and should cuff you before you get tired of him, and the idea swirls for a bit in Sukuna’s head before one night at four am, he storms into yuuji’s room and in a pure panic asks “how do I ask her out?”

Yuuji grumbles and throws a pillow at his brother, “flowers and candy, go back to bed.”

But Ryomen does anything but. Because there’s so many flowers and so many candies, how will he know which is your favorite? And as much as he’d love to ask you, it would ruin the surprise of being so excited at being his girlfriend that you’d have to say yes- a little manipulative, perhaps, but he’s not perfect despite what he says.

So he kinda goes… crazy.

He buys you all sorts of candy, everything from sour to chocolate, to even some cotton candy grapes and gummy bear watermelon and more candy flavored candy, all to put in a small bag that dangles from his thick wrist.

Next is the flower shop, and that’s even more stressful because how is he supposed to pick between roses and peonies and assorted and god knows what other breeds of flowers there are- one time, as a kid, he saw yuuji give a little boy a fistful of yellow dandelions, can’t he just do that?

According to the swipe of his credit card after picking out seven bouquets…. No. Apparently not.

He lugs everything out to his car with grunts of efforts, texting you telling you to be home because the smell of flowers is making him nauseous and the candy is probably melting in the warmth of the sun.

SENT please tell me you’re home?

Schnookums (god he needs to change that, why’d you ever put yourself as something so feral in his phone?) why, you coming over??

SENT no I’m making conversation

Of course that question means I’m coming over

Schnookums yayyyy okay 🥺💙

He scoffs before making a floor to your house, nerves making him speed a little too fast and almost run a few too many red lights, and he’s grateful that the cops he passed have mercy on him and let him get to your house without a ticket or handcuffs.

He gathers his bundle back in his arms and blindly makes his way up your driveway, using the sheer grace of the gods watching over him to not trip and crush everything under him. He sneezes god knows how many times, and once he’s finally at your door, he doesn’t know how long it takes him to knock successfully, but after 5 tries, he finally nails it.

And after a few short seconds, you open the door with a gasp of excitement. “What did you do!”

“I wasn’t- fuck!” The flowers start to slip as he tries to peer over them to look at you. You’re quick to make a move to help him catch them. “Fuck. God damn it. Ugh.” He clears his throat, “I wasn’t sure what flowers to get, so… I bought them all.”

“Whats in the bag?”

“An absolutely feral amount of sweets.”

You’re beaming at him, so excited between the gesture and seeing him that you immediately toss your arms around him, the crinkling of the bouquets being what snaps you back to life.

“Ah shit.”

“Sorry! Sorry!! I just… this is so sweet,” you say, smiling.

“Well, I uhh…. I wanted… you and I’ve been kinda… going out for a while….”

“Yeah?” You ask, and with the way your eyes widen and jaw slacks slightly, you know what he’s going to ask.

And he knows you’re going to make him do it.

“And I really… really have enjoyed it.” He takes a deep breath, “not sure why, but-“

“Shut up,” you snicker.

“But I kinda… want to do it. More. And… not let you do it with other people.”

“Okay,” you giggle.

“And I’m told the only way to do that is to make you my girlfr-“

“YES!” You scream, wrapping your arms around him again, and when he makes a noise of protest, you grab the flowers to put them on the ground, hugging him again tightly.

Tightly enough his organs hurt and his breath can’t get into his body, but this feels so right, so good and so comforting that he’d let you do it forever. He kisses your head and cradles it, letting the bag rest against your back.

“I can’t believe you went through all this trouble for me,” you murmur against him.

He chuckles, “don’t thank me too much yet. We still need to find vases for all of these because I’ll be damned if I let my kind gesture die within twelve hours.”

“I don’t even know if I own a vase.”

He stiffens, and you snicker in his grip.

“Well then I hope your don’t like your kitchen sink too much.”

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undreaming-fanfiction · 9 months ago

Text

Established Steddie, they have been living together for over a decade, did their best to heal their wounds from the Upside Down and learn to enjoy life again. It's not easy but they do it.

When the Lord of the Rings movies come out, it's actually Steve who suggests watching them to Eddie. He really tries engaging with Eddie's passions, but his focus is not the greatest when it comes to books. That doesn't mean he doesn't listen to Eddie ramble about them though - he knows all about hobbits, second breakfasts, the culture of smoking in the Shire...Eddie admires a lot of characters from the books, but ever since experiencing the Upside Down fuckery, he actually admits that the hobbits had a point. Good food, even better company and good tobacco? What else does one need? It also inspires Steve a few years later to prepare a full day of hobbit-inspired meals for their trilogy marathon when the extended editions come out. But this is about their first time watching the movies.

They both go to the movie theater excited. Steve is familiar with most of the characters, including Eddie's self-admitted crush on Aragorn. And Steve can see why, he can see so much good in all the members of the fellowship. After the first movie, he's wiping his eyes because Boromir deserved better. Eddie has a lot to say about what was lost in adaptation, but Steve knows Eddie loves those movies and would cut off his only remaining nipple before missing the next ones.

The Two Towers have Steve rooting for the ents and he feels strangely touched about how everyone underestimates Pippin, yet it's him who gets the ents to march. He really can't pick a favorite character. He can't wait for the third movie.

They go to the premiere of the Return of the King with Eddie. They secretly hold hands in the last row, and Steve watches the ride of the Rohirrim with bated breath. He clenches his hand in Eddie's when Theoden gets gravely injured, but then Éowyn is there and...oh.

He is staring slack-jawed at the scene. Éowyn's large, terrified eyes, the towering frame of the Witch King. Her posture was fearful, crouched, but still she faced him. And something surfaces in his head, something he's long forgotten.

He's unusually queit when they come back home, he still loves the rest of the movie, almost cries at "my friends, you bow to no one,", then definitely cries at Frodo leaving the Middle Earth. But there is still that something and Eddie can sense it. When they're falling asleep together, Eddie finally asks him. And Steve's had enough time to process what he felt.

"When Éowyn faced the Witch King...it reminded me of what it felt like. I mean, for the first time. I know it's stupid because saw so much unnatural shit, but...it's the first time that I have hard time forgetting," he admits quietly. "She reminded me of me in 1983 so much. I had no clue what I was getting myself into. I thought I'd do the right thing, but then I had a gun pointed at me, they both had blood on their hands...and then it appeared."

Eddie doesn't speak, he only holds Steve closer.

"It was so tall. I remember that petal-like mouth, those teeth, but mostly...I remember the crippling fear. I felt absolutely terrified. I couldn't move. There was even a moment when I thought of running away, but...I couldn't leave them there. Seeing someone go through something similar and being praised for being a hero...it makes me think. I used to be so ashamed for freezing in that moment. For even considering running away. But Éowyn...she was like me." There's awe in his voice and warmth, relief. "She had no idea what she was getting into. She froze. She didn't do everything perfectly and gracefully like Legolas or something, but when it mattered...she did what she had to."

He holds Eddie tighter and asks, almost shyly: "Will it offend you that I think she's my favorite character? Not Aragorn or Sam?"

Eddie just shakes his head and drops a kiss to Steve's hair. "Nah. She suits you well. And you're both amazing."

And if it becomes a silly endearment in their household, that Steve is sometimes called the Shieldmaiden of Hawkins? ("I'm not a maiden, Eddie!" "I'm not calling you a shieldboy or shieldbachelor, Steve!") Then Steve feels a hint of something that he thought he'd renounced, but now, for the first time he feels it's deserved - pride.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #lord of the rings steddie #not proofread I'm sleep deprived af

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guess-my-next-obsession · 2 months ago

Text

the alchemy | v. the confession

pairing: no outbreak!dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel find peace after a hard day, but it doesn’t stay that way for long.

chapter rating: E (18+ only, MINORS DNI, dbf/secret relationship, age gap (joel is 34, reader is 24), unprotected piv, joel has a filthy mouth, appearance of this man’s obvious breeding kink, angst to end it all--may contain some typos but i can’t be bothered to check)

wc: 4.4k

series masterlist | previous chapter

The waiting room of the doctor’s office you were interviewing at for a temp job as an administrative assistant while you awaited replies from more long-term positions was bleak and empty. The cold space was bright with overhead fluorescent lighting, the soft hum of a court TV show pairing horribly with the soft clacks of the receptionist’s keyboard. It was the perfect recipe for a headache, if your earlier conversation with your father hadn’t already given you one.

He’d been on your ass about keeping up with your chores, and though you admittedly had fallen behind on your end of the bargain, it wasn’t like you could tell him why you’d been too busy to chip in lately.

I’ve been busy falling in love with your good friend, dad didn’t seem like a good way to get yourself back into his good graces.

So, instead of prepping for your interview, you passive-aggressively tended to the sink full of dishes, only for him to switch gears and gripe that he didn’t mean you had to do them then and there.

Just another reason why you needed to start earning some money of your own so that you could find a small place and put some much needed distance between you and your father.

When the doctor and owner of the small practice finally called you back—twenty minutes past your agreed upon time—your head was pounding. If you hadn’t been so desperate to land a job, you might’ve slipped out at the five minute mark, but as it stood, you needed to see this shitty interview through.

For your sanity.

For some privacy.

For the potential to not have to sneak out every night just to see Joel.

JOEL

It had been a long fucking day.

Between the incessant ache in his lower back from yesterday’s job putting up drywall and the shipment of tile for his latest contract—a suburban couple’s renovation of their first home together—arriving cracked, he was desperate to get home and doze away on the couch with a cold beer.

Sarah was off at her friend’s house for the night, which meant he had the night to himself—unless you were able to sneak over and offer him some much welcomed company for the night.

But he wasn’t counting on that fact, not when your dad had been there to watch Sarah pack her overnight bag into Mrs. Jacobs’ silver minivan earlier that morning.

It didn’t stop him from hoping, nonetheless.

As he pulled his pickup into his driveway, Joel was surprised to find the exact person he’d been hoping to see sitting on the front step of his place. He hopped out of the truck with a newfound purpose and tried to tame the boyish grin creeping onto his face as he took you in. You looked more corporate than you usually did, a pair of slacks and a button-down blouse taking the place of your usual t-shirt and jeans, but you looked no less beautiful than you always did. A natural, effortless thing that had every nerve in his body alight with the need to get his hands on you.

“Hey,” you greeted him, a small smile lifting one corner of that mouth he loved so much.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked, scanning the cul de sac as he stepped up onto his porch. “Dressed to impress, I see.”

You huffed out a small laugh and rolled your eyes as you stood, keeping a bit of distance between the two of you in case anyone happened to be watching. A fact that he loathed with every bone in his body.

“My key broke off in the front door,” you sighed, leaning against the wooden beam beside you. “My dad’s not going to be home until late tonight, and I didn’t feel like breaking in. Decided I’d slum it here until you got home.”

He stepped closer to you, his hand twitching with the urge to stroke his thumb over your cheek in hopes of turning your frown into one of those smiles he loved so much. “Need me to break in for ya?”

“You could,” you said, biting at your lip as you stared down at your nails. “Or we could go inside and you can help me forget about the shitty interview I just had.”

It was Joel’s turn to frown, despite the twitch he felt downstairs at the implication in your tone. “Didn’t get the job?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” you scoffed. “I don’t want it, though. The doctor was a total dick. Made some joke about finally having someone pretty behind the desk to greet him in the morning. I’d rather be broke and unemployed than have to work with that bullshit.”

“Want me to kick his ass?” Joel asked, reveling in the laugh his words earned.

“No.” You smiled, lifting your eyes to meet his as the tip of your tongue slid out to wet your bottom lip. “I have better stuff in mind for you.”

Joel’s brown arched, a smirk lighting up his face. “Oh, yeah? And what might that be, darlin’?”

“Let me in and I’ll show you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

As soon as Joel shut and locked the door behind him, you were pressing him against the wall.

Your lips found his ungracefully, but he didn’t seem to mind as he kissed you back with just as much unbridled need. It had been too long—three days now—since you’d gotten the chance to be truly alone with him. With Sarah at the house, the two of you had to be discreet and silent, and while it never hindered the pleasure you brought each other, it certainly dampened a bit of this passion you’d been yearning to feel.

Joel groaned as he slipped his hands over your hips to squeeze your ass through your trousers, pressing you tighter to his body. You bit at his lower lip and let your own hands travel, one to the nape of his neck and one down to palm at the bulge imprisoned by his jeans.

“Missed you all day, baby,” he said, his voice thick with desire as he guided you backwards towards the couch. “Couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

“Tell me what you were thinking about,” you panted, straddling his lap as he sat down and pulled you with him.

“Thought about the way you looked when you were ridin’ me a couple nights ago,” he said, nipping at your jawline. “How you had to cover your mouth to keep quiet. Fuck, I got hard just thinkin’ about the sounds you make. Been too goddamn long since I heard ‘em. You gonna let me hear ‘em today, baby?”

“Fuck, yeah,” you moaned, grinding yourself against him as he started to unbutton your blouse, kissing each bit of skin he exposed along the way.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praised, lathing his tongue over the swell of your breast as it sat pushed up by your bra. He peeled your shirt off your body and tossed it across the room before settling his big, warm hands on your waist, smoothing his rough palms across your smooth skin. “Wanna hear every fuckin’ thing.”

Your back arched as he lowered his mouth to your breast, kissing and nipping at you through the thin lace of your bra. With a skilled flick of his fingers behind your back, he had the bra unclasped and discarded on the floor along with your shirt, the cool air around you stiffening your nipples into sensitive peaks. He groaned as he palmed one of your breasts in his hand, his thumb stroking over the sensitive bud as he slowly lifted his eyes back to yours to watch your face crumple a bit with pleasure.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect, baby,” he whispered, shaking his head at you in reverence as he lowered his mouth to your nipple, kissing it softly. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

“Fuck, Joel,” you moaned, holding his head against your breast as he swirled and sucked at the bud before kissing his way over to the other. ”I need you inside me.”

Joel’s hands gripped you harder, pulling you closer. “Take me out and sit on it, then, honey. I ain’t stoppin’ what I’m doin’.”

Your limbs felt heavy and clumsy as you dropped your hands to his lap, as if you were drunk off Joel’s voice alone. You fumbled with his belt and the button of his jeans, undoing both with little grace as you scrambled to access the hard thickness straining beneath its rigid denim confines. Joel, meanwhile, hadn’t stopped lavishing your sensitive nipples with attention, alternating from sucking to nibbling to flicking at them with the tip of his tongue, all while his big hands restlessly stroked up and down the planes of your back.

“Stand up so I can take these off,” he ordered, tugging at the belt loops of your trousers. You obeyed immediately, letting him undo the button and slip your slacks and underwear off in one smooth motion before he shed himself of his own clothes, leaving him bare and beautiful in front of you. Joel was smiling as he tapped his lap with one hand and held your hip with the other. “Sit.”

You let out a soft keening sound at the rough, inviting tone of his voice, obeying once again. Joel watched your face as you straddled his lap, his eyes round with reverence and lips parting at the feeling of your soft palm wrapping around his pulsing girth.

“Fuck,” he hissed, biting his lip as his eyes fell to watch your hand pump him. “You got any idea what you do t’me, baby? Any fuckin’ clue how good y’feel?”

You replied with a hiss of your own as you flicked the tip of him along your seam, paying special attention to your swollen bundle of nerves. “Do you?”

Joel smiled for a half-second before his face crumpled into something dark and needy and absolutely sinful as you lined him up at your entrance, sinking down just enough to have his fat head inside you. He groaned at the tightness there, and you sighed at the delicious stretch of him making himself at home in the most precious of places.

“Always so tight,” he whispered, lifting his hands to your face as he pulled you down to him for a searing kiss. “So fuckin’ wet. Best fuckin’ pussy in the world.”

You smiled into the kiss and sank down further, relishing in the choked moan you tore from his chest. “And it belongs to you, Joel.”

“Shit,” he groaned, tossing his head back against the couch, giving you the perfect chance to press your lips against his pulse. Joel’s hands splayed across your hips, keeping you flush with his body for a moment while he gained his composure. “Tell me again.”

You grinded yourself against him, your clit rubbing against the patch of hair at his base and sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. “My pussy’s all yours, Joel.”

He growled, lifting your hips just to drive his own forward, drilling in deep. “Again.”

You let out a cry, fingers leaving crescent moons in the meat of his shoulders as his head found that spot deep inside you with every rough thrust upwards. “You own me, Joel.”

“Own what?,” he growled, using your body as a toy as he plunged deep over and over and over. Your face was buried in the nook of his neck as you held onto his broad frame, breathing in the scent of sawdust and warm cologne and sweat—so masculine, so distinctly Joel.

“You own my pussy,” you cried, meeting his thrusts in harsh bounces, the room filling with the lewd slap of your ass meeting his thighs. “You own every fucking part of me, baby.”

Joel’s hand came down onto your ass with a sharp sting, the pain blending with pleasure and driving you closer to that delicious edge. “Good fuckin’ girl. This pussy’s all mine. You’re all fuckin’ mine, ain’t ya?”

“Fuck, yes!” You rode him without care of how you looked while doing it. It was animalistic and primal the way you needed him, the way your body reacted to even the slightest of touches. Joel shared that same inhibition, hands gripping and roaming and mouth spewing with filth.

“Wanna carve my name into this fuckin’ pussy and make it mine forever. Put a fuckin’ baby in you,” he groaned, his lips pressing against the shell of your ear as the two of you worked in tandem to achieve pure bliss. His words had you clenching, even when you hadn’t expected to want or like them as much as you did. “That what you want, baby? Want me to fuck my cum nice and deep ‘til it takes?”

“Fuck, yes!” you cried, your walls squeezing him like a vice grip. “Wanna have your baby, Joel!”

He growled, using one hand at the base of your neck to pull your face from his shoulder so that he could look into your eyes. “So fuckin’ beautiful, honey. You’d look so goddamn pretty with my baby inside you.”

“Fuck, Joel, I’m so close,” you moaned, face wrecked with pleasure as you leaned back on his lap, your hands perched on his thighs for leverage. Joel growled at the change in position, at the sight of your body sprawled out on top of him, at the bounce of your breasts in his eyeline.

“I’m gonna cum nice and deep,” he said, biting his bottom lip as he lowered his thumb to your clit, working it in perfect circles. “Gonna make you a mess and then clean it up with my tongue. S’that what you want?”

“Please,” you cried, too fucked out to say anything better.

“Gonna taste us together ‘til you beg me to stop,” he said, his own voice now shaky and rough as he approached his release. “Fuck, baby. I need you t’cum for me. I’m too fuckin’ close.”

You didn’t need any more motivation, your body seizing up and crumbling on top of him with the weight of your climax. Joel gathered you in his arms and held you close to his chest, pressing kisses against your temple as he buried himself deep and let you have every last drop of his release.

“Take it,” he murmured, fucking his cum deep into your pussy. “Take what’s yours, darlin’.”

“Jesus,” you sighed, circling your hips against his as your climax faded to a warm, tingling thing. ”You’re too fucking good at this.”

Joel laughed, soft and breathy, as he smoothed a hand up and down your back before letting it settle on your ass with a gentle squeeze. “Fuck, I love the shit out of you, you know that?”

You froze, not out of fear or panic, but just the sheer surprise of such a confession falling so casually from his lips. Joel seemed to realize it too, as his hand stilled in its ministrations across your heated skin.

“We can pretend I didn’t say that, if y’want,” Joel said, sounding much too shy and insecure for your taste.

You sat up enough to look at him, watching as he avoided your stare like a nervous little boy.

“Look at me, you beautiful man.” He obliged, carefully lifting his eyes to meet yours. You held his face in your hands, guiding him to your lips for three gentle, loving pecks. “I don’t want to pretend. I…love you, too. Fuck, I think I’ve always loved you, Joel.”

Joel’s smile dawned again, washing away every trace of hesitation that lingered before. He leaned in to kiss you again, this time slow and languid as if he’d be content to do this for the rest of his life. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this…happy. This settled before. Just want you t’know that.”

“Neither have I,” you murmured, your lips refusing to move too far from his.

JOEL

You stayed with him later than you probably should’ve. The afternoon light had faded into evening, but neither of you paid any mind to the passing of time. You fell asleep shortly after he fulfilled his promise of cleaning you up with his tongue, your face buried in the nook of his neck as he dozed with you on the sofa.

He woke up before you, eager to take his time in watching you sleep beside him. It had become a favorite pastime of his in the short month the two of you had spent together, waking up before you just to watch you breathe. He’d never felt this way in any of his previous relationships, so enamored and in love with a person, even in their most base state. It had always been a sort of begrudging kind of love with his exes, as if there was a large part of his biology that rejected their company for one reason or the next. He mostly just felt out of place in their company, like living with a stranger or a roommate that he fucked every now and again.

But there wasn’t a single part of him that felt that way about you. He loved every bit of you—the woman you showed him when you were awake, kind and thoughtful and determined, and the woman he held close when you were fast asleep, all soft curves and warm skin. Even Sarah seemed to accept you as a natural addition to their family, far more than she ever did with her own mother. That fact carried more weight than you knew, or perhaps you were keenly aware of the way they both felt for you and simply chose to accept it in stride. Either way, it was endearing.

He was just about to wake you up to thank you for existing here with him—with them—in the best way he knew how when a series of hurried knocks sounded on his front door. He’d saw the headlights of your father’s SUV pull into the driveway next door, and given your absence at home, he had no doubt that he would’ve strolled over, worried as all hell.

Joel gently coaxed you awake with a thumb brushing over your face, feeling a bit irritated that he had to interrupt your peace. Especially given the circumstance.

“Your dad’s at the door, baby,” he said, his voice gentle but urging. You bolted upright at the news, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes as you scanned the room. “Go upstairs and I’ll send him back home.”

You muttered a sleepy okay, grabbed your clothes from the floor, and hurried upstairs to his bedroom while Joel threw on his own clothes and tried to look half-presentable. As if he hadn’t just spent the afternoon inside you.

When things looked to be back in order, he finally marched to the door and opened it, revealing your disheveled looking father. “Hey, everything alright?”

“Have you seen my daughter?” he asked, breezing past Joel and into the half-lit living room.

“No,” Joel lied, rubbing the back of his neck as he spotted your underwear halfway beneath the couch that you must’ve missed when fumbling for your clothes in the dark. “You wanna grab a couple beers and tell me what’s got you so riled up?”

Your father headed into the kitchen with a soft grunt, allowing Joel the opportunity to stuff your panties in his back pocket before taking a seat on the sofa. When he returned, he let out a sigh and settled into the recliner, combing a hand over his face.

“She isn’t home,” he said, pausing to take a sip of his beer. “She usually sends me a text when she’s gonna be out late.”

“She probably just forgot,” Joel said, his knee bouncing with anxiety. Lying had never come easy to him, but if there was any time to learn, it was now. “You tried textin’ her?”

“Yeah, nothin’,” he said, shaking his head. “I feel like she’s hiding something from me. A boyfriend, maybe. I’ve kept quiet about it, but I’ve heard her sneakin’ out in the dead of night. Her car always stays here, though, so she must be gettin’ picked up.” He fixed his attention on Joel. “You seen anything?”

Joel was quick to shake his head. A bit too quick. “No, I’m in bed early these days.”

“Well, keep an eye out if you can,” he said, ticking his jaw. “I’d like to know what she’s been up to. Makes no sense for her to hide things from me, but then again, it’s been a long time since we’ve been under the same roof like this.”

“She’s probably just settlin’ in, figurin’ things out,” Joel said, his fingers scratching at the label on his bottle. “No need to go and get yourself worked up over nothin’.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a sigh, downing the last of his beer. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Let me know if you hear anything.”

Joel stood to walk him to the door, only to watch as your father’s eyes landed on a familiar looking phone case laid face down on the coffee table.

“That’s her phone,” he said, his eyes narrowing at the object before lifting to Joel’s. “What’s her phone doin’ here?”

Joel struggled to make up a lie, his lips parting and closing over and over. “I, uh…”

“Joel,” he said, his tone harsher than before. “What’s my daughter’s phone doing here?”

Your father stepped closer, squaring his shoulders as he sized up his newfound enemy.

“I’m gonna give you two seconds to explain yourself before I go upstairs and take a look myself,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Listen—“

“Nope.” He shook his head, scoffing in anger as he turned to move towards the staircase. Joel rushed to block his path, setting a firm hand on his chest. “I suggest you move, Miller.”

“I suggest you don’t tell me what to do in my own house,” Joel said, his protective streak outweighing his anxiety. “You can either sit there and listen, or you can get the hell out. Either way, you ain’t goin’ upstairs.”

“You gonna stop me?” Your father stepped forward, daring Joel to make a move. He had half a mind to shove him back a step, but the sound of his bedroom door opening talked some much needed sense into him.

“Dad, stop,” you pleaded, the sound breaking Joel’s heart. “I’ll be home in a second. We can talk about this in private.”

“There’s no way in hell this is happening,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he turned to pace the living room. “You’re sneakin’ around with my daughter? And lyin’ to my face about it? For what, some hookup? Some sick fantasy of yours?”

“Dad!” You pushed past Joel to stand in front of him protectively. “It’s not a hookup or anything like that. Joel and I are together. We’re serious about each other.”

“He’s a decade older than you!” he shouted back, causing Joel to take the lead.

“She’s a grown woman,” Joel said. “Goddamn near twenty-five. You don’t think she’s old enough to make her own decisions yet?”

“She wasn’t twenty-five when you met her,” he returned.

“And I didn’t act on anything all that time,” Joel said.

“How long has this been goin’ on?” Your father turned to you, and Joel fought the urge to tell him to wipe the murderous look off his face.

“A month or so,” you said, meek and timid. “We were going to tell you.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “Joel was just sitting there lying to my face about you just needing time to settle in. All the while, he’s been the one you’ve been sneaking off with.”

“We were waiting until we knew what was happening—“

“Well that went to shit, didn’t it?” he said, shaking his head. “You know what? You wanna sneak around and lie to me, you wanna play house with him, then you can stay here. I’m not having a liar sleep under my roof.”

“Dad!”

“No!” he shouted. “You didn’t care how this would hurt me before, you don’t get to cry about it now. I’m goin’ out. You’ve got an hour to get your shit and leave my house. And you—“ He turned his attention to Joel. “You’re never going to be welcomed under my roof again. You’re dead to me. I don’t want to see your face again, you hear me?”

Joel didn’t reply, simply clenching his jaw as he reached a hand out to welcome you into his side, your tears staining his t-shirt as you buried your face in his neck.

“Fuckin’ sick,” your father said, stomping his way to the door and slamming it shut behind him.

In the tense silence that followed, Joel wanted nothing more than to go over and teach your father a lesson on how not to speak to you, but he was too preoccupied with holding you as you shook with tears.

“Baby,” he cooed, hugging you tight. “I’m so sorry. So fuckin’ sorry.”

“He was so…mean,” you sobbed, hugging him tight. “He’s never spoken to me like that. Like I wasn’t his daughter.”

“I know,” he murmured, smoothing his hand over your back. “I hate him for makin’ you cry like this.”

“I can’t believe…can’t believe this is real,” you said, peering up to look at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I was so happy just a few minutes ago.”

Joel cradled your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “It’ll be alright. He’ll come around, and if he doesn’t…well, he can go fuck himself.”

You nodded, though no part of him thought you believed what he’d said. No, you’d be torn up over this for days. Weeks, even. But through it all, he’d be there.

“Come on,” he said, holding your hand. “Let’s go get your things, and then we’ll come back, have a drink, and watch one of those romance movies you love so much until it hurts a little bit less, alright?”

You managed a soft, but broken smile and nodded. “Thank you for sticking up for me and being here. It’s more than most men would’ve done in your situation.”

“I love you,” he said, squeezing your hand. “That means I’m gonna always be here to stick up for you, alright? I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller story #joel miller series #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #the alchemy

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cheollipop · 2 years ago

Text

one more rep

navi | taglist

pairing: jung wooyoung x model fem!reader x choi san

w.c.: 6.9k

tags: smut, some fluff, friends to lovers, woosan are reader's personal trainers

san got a little too excited watching you exercise in purple – his favourite colour – and wooyoung was nothing if not a tease. turning their attention back to you, they didn't expect to see you equally worked-up.

warnings: mean dom!wooyoung, soft dom!san, they're switches for each other though, wooyoung has a nipple piercing + a tramp stamp (hehe), san has finger tattoos, degradation (a little bit; reader gets called a slut/cockslut), praise (a lot), so much dirty talk, a hint of dacryphilia, nipple play (m & f), face sitting, oral sex (m & f receiving), face fucking, fingering (f), squirting, pussy slapping, overstimulation, handjob, mxm, spit kink (so much spit...), snowballing, cum eating/swallowing, unprotected sex (👎), multiple creampies, multiple orgasms, some humping, aftercare, nicknames (youngie, good boy; sannie; baby, pretty girl, good girl, sweetheart, darling), they're all idiots in love <3

A/N: so this has been brewing in my little kettle for a while and bam! my longest fic yet, and probably the filthiest... I put my heart and soul into this one, so I really hope you enjoy! ^^ (pls ignore any inaccuracies in the exercises,, I start wheezing after one flight of stairs)

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

San’s knees dug into the yoga mat under him, his hands – decorated with the black ink of his tattoos – secured around your calves, holding them in place while you finished up your last set of sit-ups. He could feel your muscles contract every time you pushed yourself up, relaxing momentarily as you laid back down on the mat. He often found his eyes wandering over the purple material hugging your figure, the way your shorts rode up your thighs each time you pushed yourself off the mat. With every powerful sit-up, he held his breath at how close your face would get to his – enough for him to breathe in the sweet scent of your perfume mixed in with the tanginess of your sweat, your soft exhale blowing over his face.

It had been years since your agency reached out to San’s company, hiring him and Wooyoung as your personal trainers. The three of you had developed an easy friendship, your sessions now packed with inside jokes and banter. Recently, however, you often found yourself looking at them differently – your heart racing whenever San’s hands brushed over your skin, skipping a beat at Wooyoung’s never-ending praise. As a model, you were required to remain fit, and despite the torturous exercises the pair put you through, you were glad you were able to see them regularly.

A gentle squeeze to San’s nape caught his attention, Wooyoung hovering over him with a coy smile on his face. One look over his shoulder and he could see the weights for the next exercise set up neatly in the corner.

“What’s got you so distracted? Can’t you see she’s barely making it halfway up?” Wooyoung’s tone was playful, but both your face and San’s flushed at his comment – you, because he’d caught you slacking off, and San, because he’d called him out for not paying attention.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, your chest heaving as the past two hours of taxing exercises caught up with you, sweat trickling down your temples.

“Cut me some slack, Youngie, I’m tiiired!” You whined, letting your head fall back, eyes shut while you caught your breath.

Wooyoung kneeled beside you, running his hand over the top of your head gently. “Yeah, yeah, take five minutes to rest then we’ll move on.” He smirked when you began complaining, pinching your cheek and pulling at the skin teasingly.

Looking back at San, Wooyoung’s smirk widened, teeth peeking out from between his lips when he caught sight of the man’s demeanour – his eyes moving between the two of you, hands still holding your legs, albeit slightly tighter than he had been earlier, his veins popping out while he shifted uncomfortably on his knees. Wooyoung’s eyes trailed further down, noticing the forming tent in San’s dark sweatpants, a scoff escaping his lips.

“What’s got our Sannie so excited?”

San’s whole body jerked at Wooyoung’s mocking tone – and the innuendo behind it – instinctively pulling his hands closer to his body and dragging your legs with them. You sucked in a breath when San’s hips pressed against you before immediately drawing them back, abruptly standing up and turning away from the two of you. You could see the bright red creeping up the back of his neck, San’s shaky hands scratching nervously at the heated skin.

“I-I-” San stuttered, roughly clearing his throat while he took quick peeks over his shoulder to attempt eye contact. “I-I’m so sorry- I don’t know why-”

Wooyoung chuckled, standing up and wrapping an arm around San’s shoulders, his eyes flitting down to his concealed bulge before he looked back up to speak. “Don’t worry about it, dude. I’m sure our (Y/n) understands, right?” They both looked back at you expectantly, and you nodded your head quickly. “See? Just take a walk and calm down. I’ll continue the session with (Y/n).”

Wooyoung let go of the flustered man, giving him a playful pat on his ass before turning around to face you again. His eyebrows shot up at the sight of you, taking in the way your thighs rubbed against each other, your eyes glazed over and fixed on San’s back. Wooyoung cleared his throat, startling you back to reality, and you instinctively relaxed your legs, giving him a full view of the darkened material at your crotch.

A wave of heat rushed to your face upon noticing Wooyoung’s gaze slipping down to your core, squeezing your thighs together again and sitting up. His head tilted to the side amusingly, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He reached back to grab San’s arm before he had the chance to leave, twisting him around to face you.

“Or… Would our precious (Y/n) like to help Sannie out instead?”

You rolled your hips over Wooyoung’s face, gasping around San’s cock when the tip of his nose brushed against your clit. It took the man under you a few seconds to notice you grinding on his nose, soft whimpers vibrating over San’s cock as you took him in deeper, swallowing around his cockhead and revelling in the groans you drew out of him.

Wooyoung’s hands slipped under your ass, his biceps bulging as he adjusted your position until your clit was directly over his nose and his tongue at your entrance. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when Wooyoung slipped his tongue inside you, curving it along your walls to press against the spongy spot that made your back arch. He could feel your thighs shaking around his face, moving it from side to side to nuzzle his nose against your clit, drinking up your arousal as it gushed into his open mouth.

He pulled away, sliding his tongue over his bottom lip before speaking. “I know you love my nose on your pussy, but don’t you dare cum before San does.”

You hummed around San, hearing him grunt above you as he slid his cock over your tongue, a shallow thrust to remind you of his presence, but you couldn’t process the action when Wooyoung’s tongue was back inside you, mercilessly pushing into your g-spot, your orgasm rapidly building up in your lower belly. So you just sat there, rutting over Wooyoung’s face with your mouth stretched open around San’s throbbing cock.

San’s hands reached into your hair, the strands draping over his tattooed fingers as he gently tugged at the roots, throwing his head back when your moans vibrated against his length. He held your face and pulled you off him, bending at the waist to look at you with desperate eyes.

“(Y/n), darling, fuck- can I fuck your mouth? Please, I’ll be gentle, please-”

Yes, you wanted to say, but all that came out were gargled moans as Wooyoung tongued at your entrance, teasing your hole with the wet muscle, slipping it in and out as he pleased. He pulled off your cunt to speak, holding you over his face.

“You’ll let Sannie fuck your throat, right?” Wooyoung smirked against your skin when he saw you nodding frantically above him, San’s hands cupping your cheeks and his cock jumping in your mouth. “Be a good girl and open up then,” he tapped your thigh, bringing you back down on his face.

Between Wooyoung’s tongue ruthlessly prodding against your g-spot, your hips moving on their own to grind against the curve of his nose, and San’s heavy cock fucking into your mouth, you were left an incoherent, moaning mess with drool streaming down your chin.

“Fuuuck, baby, you feel so good-” A throaty moan ripped out of San, his fingers tugging on your hair to push you all the way down his length, his jaw slack as he watched your eyes well up with tears while you held back from gagging. “Shit- I’m not gonna last.”

You were a breath away from tumbling over the edge, thighs burning as you rode Wooyoung’s face, his tongue sending shocks of pleasure soaring through your abdomen. Strong hands wrapped around your hips, bringing you down on his face and wrapping his lips around your clit. It took two harsh sucks for you to fall apart, your whole body shaking with the force of your orgasm. You felt Wooyoung’s teeth brushing over your clit, giving the swollen bud a small nibble before pulling away and slipping out from under you.

San was in heaven, his cock twitching on your tongue as your soft moans sent waves of ecstasy up his spine. But then Wooyoung’s hands were slapping his off you, pulling you away from him to lay you down on the mat.

“W-wait! I was so close!” San complained, reaching his hand towards you only to have it brushed away again. “Just a little more, p-please-“

“You’ll have her back later,” Wooyoung gave him a stern look, and San backed away, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock with a defeated exhale. He settled down on his knees, watching as Wooyoung turned his attention back to you, your thighs still twitching with the force of your orgasm. His cock throbbed when he saw Wooyoung’s face, drenched in your arousal, his eyes ablaze with the purest forms of lust. San’s eyes moved to Wooyoung’s hand, veins protruding from the skin as he sunk two fingers into your sopping heat, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “You just had to be a little slut didn’t you? Was my mouth on your pussy and Sannie’s cock down your throat not enough for you?”

“F-felt too good, Youngie, I couldn’t help it!” You writhed under him, his long fingers ruthlessly pounding into you and building you up to a second orgasm.

“Aw, you couldn’t help cum before Sannie? All because my tongue felt too good in your cunt?”

“Uh-huuh- s-so good!”

Your eyes rolled back when Wooyoung’s other hand reached for your clit, rolling it between two fingers while he continued his tormenting.

“But I wanted to see you choke on Sannie’s cum,” he bit down on your jaw, slipping his fingers out as soon as your walls began clamping down on them, smirking when you looked up at him in shock.

“Youngiee, ‘wanna cum!”

You were too focused on Wooyoung’s face to notice his hand coming down on your cunt, the sharp slap reverberating in the empty gym. Your hips jolted off the mat when he landed another slap on your clit, your hole clenching around air.

“I don’t think you deserve it, though,” Wooyoung jutted out his lips in a faux pout, quickly turning into a smile when he saw tears running down the sides of your face. “Aww, you wanna cum that bad?”

You nodded desperately, angling your hips towards him, only to be met with another harsh slap to your cunt, letting out a strangled cry that bled into moan when Wooyoung’s fingers sunk into you again, continuing their rough pace. You felt pressure building in your lower belly, flashes of heat rushing through your body as Wooyoung drew out desperate whimpers from your lips, leaning down to press wet kisses to your skin. He trailed his tongue over the sides of your face, licking away your tears as you finally came undone on his fingers.

Wooyoung sat back on his heels, pulling his fingers out to watch as clear liquid squirted out your fluttering hole, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you gushed all over the mat and Wooyoung’s clothed thighs. He couldn’t help himself, bringing four fingers down on your clit, delivering a sharp slap to your cunt, then again, until you were convulsing under him, pushing his hands off you as the overstimulation became too much.

Wooyoung pulled back, watching violent tremors pass through your body, your eyes shut as you basked in the aftershocks of your orgasm. His eyes moved to San, bending at the waist beside you to press a chaste kiss to your cheek, pausing to gauge your reaction before placing another on your forehead. The scene in front of him was sweet, intimate – despite San being naked from the waist down – and Wooyoung felt the insatiable need to disturb it.

San flinched when Wooyoung pressed himself to his back – so close he could feel the metal bar piercing one of his nipples brush against his clothed spine – hooking his chin over his shoulder and wrapping his arm around his small waist to press his palm to San’s hard abdomen.

“What are you doing?” San tried to ignore the shakiness of his voice, hoping Wooyoung didn’t notice, though the grin on the other man’s face told him he did.

“You said you were close,” Wooyoung sounded, his fingers toying with the hem of San’s compression shirt before sliding down to rest over his snail trail, the barely-there touch making the hair on San’s arms stand. “I thought you might need a helping hand.”

San didn’t reply, only sucked in a breath once Wooyoung’s fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, his eyes half-shut as he revelled in the friction the other man provided. He angled his head downwards, moving his tongue around in his mouth before letting it roll out, a line of his spit steaming down to meet Wooyoung’s hand, easing the slide over his leaking cock. San’s head lolled back onto the younger man’s shoulder, soft moans slipping through his lips while Wooyoung built a steady pace, squeezing around his base every time he drew his hand back.

“A-ah, fuck, ‘gonna cum,” San’s voice was strained, his chest rapidly rising and falling as Wooyoung twisted his hand around his cockhead, collecting the absurd amount of precum leaking from the tip and coating the rest of his shaft with it. “Don’t stop, I’m so close-”

“I didn’t know you could make cute noises like this, Sannie,” Wooyoung purred, his lips pressed to the shell of his ear, smirking when he felt San’s dick twitch in his hand. “Careful, I might end up making you squirt too.”

With Wooyoung’s hand avidly pumping his length, his warm breath blowing against his ear, the raspiness of his voice echoing in his head, San’s whole body shuddered as his high washed over him, hot ropes of cum painting your chest, some of it falling on your neck and chin. His heavy grunts were like music to Wooyoung’s ears, his hand squeezing out every last drop of San’s release until the older man was an overstimulated, whimpering mess, pushing him away from his softening member.

Falling limp on his knees, it only took San a couple seconds to zero in on your tits, following the cum sliding down their slope and leaving a translucent tint on your nipples. With two fingers, he smeared his release over your perked-up buds, taking one between his pointer and thumb and tweaking it until you were whining under him. San was awestruck, his body moving on its own, scooping up some of the cum on his fingers and bringing it up to your mouth – already open and waiting. He nearly moaned at the way your tongue circled his tattooed digits, your cheeks hollowing to suck them clean, prompting him to pull out only to collect more of his release and feed it to you.

Just as you were about to gulp down the bitter liquid, Wooyoung’s voice reminded you of his presence. A simple, “Don’t swallow,” and you were frozen in place, your mouth remaining open even after San pulled his fingers out.

Wooyoung was back on his knees beside you, leaning down to press his lips to yours, his tongue slipping inside to lick up San’s release, collecting it in his mouth before sitting back up. Twisting his body to face the older man, he grabbed his jaw firmly, squeezing it until his cheeks squished together and his lips parted. It happened in slow motion – Wooyoung’s lips pursing, tongue moving around as he collected the mixture of liquids before spitting it directly into San’s mouth and leaning down to connect their lips. San couldn’t process what had happened, but Wooyoung kissing him left him breathless, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt him graze the roof of his mouth. It was only when the other man’s tongue pushed the compound of spit and cum down his throat that his eyes snapped open, instantly meeting Wooyoung’s – already agape, lidded as they watched his blissed-out face.

Wooyoung’s other hand wrapped loosely around San’s neck, keeping his eyes fixed on his face, his teeth nipping at his bottom lip. Knowing exactly what the younger man wanted, San swallowed down his cum, maintaining a neutral expression as the tangy liquid washed down his throat. Wooyoung’s lips lifted after he felt his Adam’s apple bob under his palm, pulling away from San and letting his arm fall to his side, a triumphant smirk gracing his features.

It was as if they had forgotten about your presence, emitting a small noise to draw their attention back to you. Two heads twisted to face you, eyebrows raising and eyes following your fingers as they carried San’s cum to your mouth, your tongue licking them clean. Your gaze was fixed on Wooyoung, taking in the sweat shining on his temples, his slightly parted lips – glossy from San’s spit – and finally, the tent in his sweatpants, throbbing at the sight of you. Your free hand reached for his shirt and tugged at the dark material, pulling your fingers out of your mouth to speak.

“Please, Youngie, w-want you,” you pulled at his shirt, finally breaking Wooyoung out of the trance he was in.

Throwing his shirt off, Wooyoung fitted himself between your legs, leaning down to mouth against your neck, the metal bar piercing his nipple cold where it pressed into your heated skin. “Did one little kiss make our pretty slut wet again?” He scoffed at the shy nod you gave in response, trailing his lips down to your chest and taking one of your nipples into his mouth, licking off the remnants of San’s cum. You arched your back, pushing your tits further into Wooyoung’s mouth and whimpering when he slid his leaking tip through your folds. “You’re so cute,” he brought his face back up to yours, the corners of his lips curled into an impish smile. “You want Youngie’s cock that bad?”

Just as you were about to stutter out a response, Wooyoung pushed his cock past your entrance, sheathing his whole length between your pulsating walls and groaning into your neck. “Fuuuck, you’re so tight for me, darling.”

Wooyoung gave you two seconds to adjust to the stretch before he began pounding into your sopping heat, his hands gripping your waist and his face buried into the crook of your neck.

“W-wait- hnnngh!” Your hands flew to his back, nails digging into the skin whole your body jolted upwards on the mat every time he slammed his hips into you. “S-slow down!”

“I thought you wanted me?” Wooyoung pulled away to take in your fucked-out expression, broken moans making his cock twitch inside you as he drove it directly into your g-spot.

“Y-yes, but-”

“So you’ll shut up and take me,” he held your jaw firmly, his other hand sliding down to your hip. “You’ll be my pretty little cocksleeve from now on, won’t you?” You felt a flash of heat shooting down to your core, your thighs twitching around Wooyoung, moans muffled as he squished your cheeks together, your lips parting as you stared into his eyes pleadingly. He used the hand on your face to give your head a curt shake, his chest heaving despite the stern look on his face. “I asked you a question.”

You nodded desperately, crying out a quick succession of yes and please. Wooyoung eased his grip on your jaw before pulling his hand away entirely, eying your parted lips momentarily before shoving two of his fingers into your mouth and hooking them behind your bottom teeth to open them further. You felt the hot wad of spit land on your tongue, mewling as it trickled down your throat, Wooyoung’s cock sliding against your walls deliciously, making the room around you blur so all your attention could go to the man ravishing you as though you were his last meal.

Knowing Wooyoung wouldn’t relent, you looked up at the man who would. San stared right back at you, his cock already half hard and twitching at the sight of you – thighs shaking violently around Wooyoung, sweat reflecting off your flushed skin, tears pooling in your eyes as he relentlessly fucked himself into you. San spotted the slight wobbling of your bottom lip, your tears now flowing down the sides of your face while broken moans and cries ripped through your chest, Wooyoung thrusting into you like an animal in heat, his own grunts muffled by your skin.

San slid himself behind Wooyoung and cupped his hips, hooking his chin over the other man’s shoulder to eye the drool leaking out the corner of your mouth.

“Look at her, all fucked out and sensitive,” San spoke softly, his hot breath blowing against Wooyoung’s ear, a shiver shaking the latter’s body. “Slow down a little-”

“Get off me, ‘don’t wanna slow down,” he interrupted, pressing his cockhead into your sweet spot and rolling his hips to drag his length further into you before returning to his unrelenting pace.

“But you have to, Youngie. You can’t break her yet, not before I’ve had my turn with her pretty cunt.” San’s fingers dug into the younger man’s hips, his biceps flexing as he used his strength to slow him down. Wooyoung resisted at first, but his eyes caught the way San’s hands gripped his hips – veins popping out and fingers turning white, making his tattoos look more prominent – and allowed him to guide his cock into you. “There we go,” San leaned forward to press a faint kiss to his jaw. “Good boy.”

His hands eased their hold on Wooyoung’s hips to travel up his body, feeling the muscles tense under his warm touch. San slid his cock over his perky ass, eyebrows raising and when he noticed the dainty butterfly tattooed over his tailbone, sensing himself getting harder. His fingers tweaked Wooyoung’s nipple, tugging at the metal bar until he was whimpering on top of you, biting down on his bottom lip while grinding into your clenching cunt. San brushed his thumb over the tramp stamp, smearing the precum that leaked from his tip over the black ink while rutting on Wooyoung’s ass.

The visual of San licking up the sweat off Wooyoung’s neck paired with the younger man’s heavy cock grinding into you was enough to push you over the edge again, your walls clamping down on him as black dots danced in your vision. You grabbed onto Wooyoung’s biceps, your hips frantically rolling to meet his languid thrusts while you begged him to fuck you through your high, breathing out a series of please and faster. Wooyoung’s hips picked up their pace, fucking into you as his own desperate moans escaped through his lips.

Your nails dug into Wooyoung’s skin when pleasure faded into pain from overstimulation, your toes curling and tears staining your skin, your body jerking every time he drove his cock into you.

“Just a little longer, shit, I’m so fucking close-”

San pressed himself to Wooyoung’s back, sliding his cock down his ass to brush over his perky hole, his cockhead pressing into the fluttering entrance – but not quite breaching it – while harshly tugging on his nipple. Wooyoung nearly saw stars, his eyes rolling back when he finally emptied inside you, warmth spreading through your abdomen as his hot cum filled you up, some of it leaking out while his cock was still inside you. He pulled his softening member out and flopped down on the mat beside you, his chest heaving as he recovered from his orgasm. Twisting his head to look at you, Wooyoung brushed a knuckle over your cheekbone to wipe away a stray tear, the fondness lacing his expression so gentle it sent a wave of warmth to your cheeks. Wooyoung looked like he was about to say something, but San was wrapping you up in his arms, and the words died on his tongue.

Gentle fingers smoothed down your hair and soft lips peppered feathery kisses over the tears drying on your cheeks. San’s hands slid over your arms, gentle fingers massaging the tense muscles. “You’re okay,” he muttered against your skin, “I’m here.” He brushed back the hair matted to your forehead, pressing a kiss to the slick skin before drawing back to study your face. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth at the peacefulness of your features, leaning back down to slot his lips against yours, fitting himself against your body – his shirt already off and thrown to the side – humming when your fingers ran through his hair. You parted your lips for him, allowing his tongue access to slip into your mouth, sliding over your front teeth before pushing against your own. You caged his hips in with your thighs, locking your ankles behind his knees to bring him closer, releasing breathy moans that San happily swallowed up.

“Sannie, ‘want you…” you mumbled against his lips, his own traveling down to press wet kisses over your chin and jawline.

“Are you sure, baby? You don’t need more time?”

Despite his concern, his tone was breathy, a subtle whine to his voice. Looking down between your bodies, you glanced at San’s cock – the tip red and angry, twitching when he caught you looking at it. So you shook your head, perhaps a little too eager.

“Want you now,” you insisted, sliding your hand down to grab him at the base, squeezing your fingers around him and relishing the groan it pulled out of the man on top of you.

San allowed you to guide him to your fluttering hole, dipping his cockhead into the stream of cum still leaking out of you before brushing it over your clit, your whole body shuddering under him. He angled his head down and spat on his cock, watching your ephemeral shock shift into arousal, coating his length with his saliva before dragging it back down to your hole. San’s mind fogged up when he finally pushed into you, his mouth hanging open as your searing heat enveloped him. Your sharp hiss brought him back to the present, promptly cupping your cheek and examining your face, landing one kiss after the other onto the flushed skin.

“I’m here, baby, does it hurt? Do you want to stop?” He glided his hand over your thigh, fingers digging into the plush skin before releasing it, his eyes soft as they took in your reactions.

You shook your head, using your legs – still locked at the ankles behind his knees – to push him further into you. “No, ‘feels good, Sannie,” you assured him, your nails scratching at his scalp.

“Yeah?” Aside from the cocky smirk curling the corner of his mouth, San looked absolutely fucked – lidded eyes, glazed over with lust, red spread out in splotches over his chest, heaving as he resisted the urge to thrust into you. “Am I making my pretty girl feel good?”

You nodded and rolled your hips into his, silently begging him to move. And taking one look at your teary eyes, San couldn’t help but oblige, drawing his hips back and thrusting into your heat, a harmony of moans ripping through the both of you. San felt so good, his cock brushing over your walls just right with every languid grind, fleeting touches to your skin only adding fuel to the fire burning within you. Using the hand in his hair, you pulled him down to close the gap between you, your tongues dancing in the middle before you began taking turns sucking them into each other’s mouths, slobber dripping down the sides of your face.

Firm fingers grasped your chin, startling you away from San and twisting your face to the side. Wooyoung was propped up on his elbow, looking down at you with a hooded eyes while he swiped away the spit leaking from your mouth.

“Look at our pretty cockslut taking Sannie so well… I bet he’s been waiting so long to have you, haven’t you, loverboy?” Wooyoung cooed, directing his gaze to the man on top of you and blinking innocently, a wicked smile on his lips.

It took San a few seconds to process what the man had said, the haze of pleasure clouding his brain. His hands flew to your ears when the words became coherent – an attempt to shield you from the feelings he had repressed behind locked doors, feelings he was willing to shroud so long as he was by your side, content to simply exist in your presence. His ears turned bright red, the tint spreading to his face and all the way down his chest. San’s heart slammed against his chest and into yours, its rapid pace almost alarming.

“Ya! S-shut up!”

“What? You don’t think everyone already knows about your little crush?” Wooyoung twirled a strand of San’s hair around his finger, mockingly pouting his lips at the flustered man.

Just before San could retaliate, delicate hands cradled his face and brought his gaze back to you. He nearly melted into the floor, mooning over the softness in your eyes – wide and glimmering – as they looked up at him. Mouthing “it’s okay,” you gave him quick, reassuring nod, a certain promise cloaked behind the glint in your eyes.

It was as though the weight of the world had lifted off San’s chest, his eyebrows raising as he fully took in the insinuation in your expression, eyes tearing up for a few seconds before he dropped his head down to connect your lips once again. The kiss was desperate but gentle, soft nibbling on your bottom lip, San’s hot tongue pressing against your own before pulling away to trail his lips down your face to your neck.

“You’re so perfect,” he mumbled against your pulse point, “so beautiful.” He revelled in the airy moans you breathed out while he sucked a bruise into your skin, then another, before licking a stripe up your neck to lightly sink his teeth into your jaw. “Want everyone to know we’re the only ones who can have you like this.”

We – the pluralism sent the butterflies in your stomach on a rampage. Before your attention could shift to the neglected man to your side, San drew his length out until only the tip was left inside you, your walls desperately clenching down on it while you whined at the loss. But then he was pushing back in, finally fucking himself into your weeping cunt, your arousal mixed with Wooyoung’s cum squelching every time San’s cock pumped into you.

“Let me know if it’s too much, sweetheart,” San’s tone was so gentle, and yet you couldn’t ignore the growl in his voice while he basked in the flaring heat of your walls, his attentive eyes full of want.

“More,” you pleaded, your eyes never leaving San’s while he adjusted his position.

Wooyoung’s hand suddenly gripped the underside of your thigh and pulled it towards him to spread you out for San, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your cheekbone. San dug his knees into the mat, pushing further into you and remaining still for a few seconds until you began whining again. With a breathy chuckle, he began pistoning his hips into you, praise rolling off his tongue as your walls contracted around him. The world around him faded away until only you remained – the sweet succession of his name, the pleasure painting your features, the gentle tugging against his scalp where your fingers tangled in his hair. San couldn’t focus on anything else.

Until rough fingers made their way between your bodies, sliding his arm behind your knee to reach the place where you were connected. Making a ‘v’ shape with his fingers, Wooyoung hooked them around San’s cock, nearly moaning when he felt the way it stretched you open. A rough “ah” ripped through San’s throat, thrusting inside you to feel your cunt squeezing down on him then pulling out to revel in the glide of Wooyoung’s fingers around his slick base.

When he thought he couldn’t get any harder, Wooyoung leaned in to whisper in his ear – low and sultry while his fingers dipped lower to cup his balls. “How does it feel to fuck my load into her, Sannie?”

With a flabby squeeze to his sack, Wooyoung felt it empty as San finally came, his whole body shuddering as his orgasm washed over him, emptying his load deep inside you. San cursed under his breath, slowly fucking his cum into your used cunt while it spurted out of him, his cock throbbing at the sight of you writhing with the need to come. Wooyoung’s hand slipped off San when he moved to pull out, moving to spread you out again and watching the other man’s cum mix with his own while it leaked out of your gaping hole. He eyed how you clenched around nothing for a few seconds before San’s fingers slipped back inside you, the black ink adoring them turning glossy with your arousal.

“I’ve got you, darling,” he leaned down to pepper your face with soft pecks, his fingers hammering into you and curling into your g-spot. “Will our sweet girl give us one more?”

You nodded desperately, tears streaking down your face and moans slipping through your lips without restraint. Wooyoung’s hand kneaded your thigh, his eyes fixed on your swollen clit, visibly contemplating something in his head. You were too busy relishing the tender kisses San dropped on your heated skin to notice Wooyoung’s hand dropping on your pussy, the sharp sting making your body jolt under San. The pain from Wooyoung’s slap paired with San’s fingers mercilessly hammering into your cunt made your eyes roll to the back of your head, your thighs shaking rabidly as the pressure building in your lower belly released, sending you tumbling into your orgasm. You nails dug into San’s biceps and your hips simultaneously pushed to meet his thrusts and pulled away from them, delirious after being dragged over the edge so many times.

San’s fingers slowed as you came down from your high, tapping against the spongy spot along your walls and taking in how your hips jerked at his ministrations. Just as he pulled out of you, Wooyoung’s hand landed another sharp slap to your clit, making you cry out from the overstimulation. But before San could berate him for it, it was like a dam broke within you, hot liquid squirting out of your fluttering hole.

The two men simply watched the scene unfold before them for a few moments before San's body began moving on its own. With a hand to the back of his head, San dragged Wooyoung down to your cunt, taking in how his mouth opened on its own to catch everything you had to give him. San’s fingers tugged at the younger man’s hair, pushing his head into your mound and observing how his tongue rolled out to lick over your entrance, taking the concoction of San’s cum and his own into his mouth and swallowing it down.

You watched as Wooyoung sat back up, taking San’s hands and slipping the fingers that had been fucking into you inside his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking them clean. San eyed him with lidded eyes, studying the slide of the younger man's tongue over his trimmed nails. Before he could process Wooyoung’s head moving closer, he had already sealed his lips against San’s, sliding his tongue into his mouth to give him a taste of all of you combined. An unpleased whine rumbled through San’s chest when Woooyoung pulled away, his glossy lips forming a pout when he gave the tip of San’s nose a kitten lick and shot him a playful wink.

Wooyoung’s attention was back on you before San could even blink, spreading out beside your worn-down body and gliding a gentle palm down your side. San did the same, flopping down opposite to Wooyoung and brushing the hair off your face, leaning over you to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Is a five minute break enough before we start the next rep?” Wooyoung joked, giggling when you swung a limp arm into his chest.

“You’re insufferable,” you laughed, noting how San’s chest vibrated against your shoulder with his own giggles.

Wooyoung pressed his lips to your cheek, holding them in place for a few seconds before drawing back, only to plant a series of kisses down your neck and to your collarbones. “Are you feeling okay? Was it too much? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Your eyes softened at the concern lacing Wooyoung’s tone and you smoothed down the furrow of his eyebrows with a gentle thumb. Shaking your head, you brushed the hair off his face and spoke. “You didn’t hurt me, Youngie. I-I really liked it... all of it,” you mumbled the last part, a faint blush warming your cheeks at the admission. You could see Wooyoung's worry dissipating, a witty comeback at the tip of his tongue.

“(Y/n),” San drew your attention back to him before Wooyoung could tease you, noticing his burning ears and the fiddling of his fingers at your waist. “Earlier, you…” he cleared his throat, and you fought the smile off your lips while watching him struggle to express himself. You saw him gather up the courage to pry open the door he’d welded shut long ago. “I want you,” he blurted out, “a-and I don’t mean only in this way,” he flailed his hands between your bodies before reaching down to lock his fingers with yours, his anxiety turning into panic and making your heart swell with fondness. “I want all of you, I want to make you happy and-” he sucked in a deep breath before continuing. “I-I guess, all I’m asking for is a chance.”

“San-”

“You’re playing dirty, you dickhead!” Wooyoung interrupted, wrapping a protective arm around your waist. “Don’t try to steal her away for yourself!”

Your eyebrows raised in shock, trying to process the situation brought on by the two men bickering on either side of you, arguing about who would get the princess when the princess herself was unsure of what she wanted. Your infatuation with San was undeniable, every fleeting touch left your skin burning for days, every smile directed towards you had the butterflies in your stomach going rabid, eating at the insides of your stomach. Everything about Choi San was warm – his eyes, his words, his expression, all were laced with scotching heat, leaving you burning from within.

Whatever it was you felt towards Wooyoung was fiery, fervent, leaving you dazed and confused – what was it about him that drew you in? Perhaps it was his playfulness, or was it the way he changed up on you? One second Wooyoung was a friend and the other he was dropping subtle hints – a flirtatious wink, or a hand on your hip that held its place for a second too long for it to be friendly. You’d simply assumed him to be a flirt by nature, though one peek at his interactions with other women and you were proven wrong: Jung Wooyoung only treated you this way – as though you painted the clouds on the blue sky with your bare hands – and you found yourself rejoicing in that fact. Perhaps you’d already made up your mind, and it was simply your denial and cowardice that had held you back this whole time.

“What if-” you began, both men ceasing their banter and turning to look at you. You swallowed nervously, your mouth dry and your heart beating wildly against your ribcage. “What if I wanted… both of you?” You looked between their shocked faces, your voice small as you uttered the next question. “Is that too much to ask?”

“No!” They replied in unison, the intensity of their voices startling you.

Relief rushed through you and you closed your eyes to revel in the moment, the two men back to speaking over each other, going on about how they would do anything make you happy – “happier than a child at Disneyland,” San specified. The squabbling persisted even while they cleaned you up and helped you into your clothes, San shouting back at Wooyoung while he guided you through your cool-down stretches, the other man cleaning up the floor and wiping down the equipment.

As boisterous as they were, you found yourself smiling adoringly at the two men fighting over who would drive you home – matters that were trivial to you, but somehow meant the world to them. In the back of your mind, you knew you had a lot to talk about and discuss to ensure everyone was content, but right now, you couldn’t help but savour the pleasant feeling in your stomach, the soft fluttering of butterflies as two men you thought the world of doted on you. Their eyes were full of adoration, fingers twitching with the urge to hand-pick the stars from the night sky to make into a necklace for you, hoping it would come close to shining as bright as you do.

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moronkombat · 1 year ago

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Oh hello! May I have a request about Bi-han , Tomas and kuai Liang reactions to love at first sight?

It was like they walked past Y/N and they just stared at her without blinking and never taking their eyes off her. Until they hit a wall or tripped on the ground or something like that.

Kuai Liang:

The sight of you is unexpected, a chance happening. You not close to him, not at all really. His eyes just so happened to catch you passing between the tables of Madame Bo's Teahouse. Your hair is pinned back but stray and feathery locks betray the ribbon in your hair. You don't see him but he sees you. The tea he about to drink sits in its cup hovering near his lips Slowly his eyes would blink to see if you are really there. You are and by some miracle your eyes connect. The beating in his chest...has it stopped? This second in time feels eternity as he holds your gaze. Your head would turn and soon you are walking to another table to serve. Brown eyes follow you until the sight of you is lost but there it lingers in his thoughts. He leans back into his chair, staring at his steaming tea. Who are you? He will ask Madame Bo for your name but not now. Not while the breath in his lungs still fail to provide

Tomas:

He's walking with Kuai Liang, rather carefree. He'd just had another meeting with Madame Bo and it went well. She had treated him and his company to tea but now it time to return home. Tomas chats up Kuai Liang about something but he stops midsentence, jaw slack and eyes wide. He sees someone, he sees you, picking up a basket that looks too heavy for you and yet you manage. Those grey eyes of his blink rapid and blurred and you and him are walking closer and closer to each other until you pass right next to him. Everything slows, nothing else moves and slowly, from the very side of your gaze, you look to him and he looks at you. Hardly even a second so why does it feel like forever? You step past him but his head follows, watching you from over his shoulder until he collides with a cart and goes toppling into it. Kuai Liang helps him up and when Tomas shakes the hay from his hair he sees you laughing a bit and he smiles. He brushes himself off, waves to you before Kuai Liang ushers him back on their path

Bi-Han:

It is during a meeting with an allied clan that he happens upon you or rather you happen upon him. He stands with arms crossed as someone goes on about the politics of such an alliance. He finds himself growing bored and displeased with the negotiations. Bi-Han's gaze would happen upon the large window and that is when he sees you. There you, bending over to pick up a flower that had fallen from its tree and his lips would part and eyes go wide. Arms go uncrossed and he watches you smile at the seemingly worthless flower before you put it in your hair right next to a shining pin. You are...pretty, he thinks and he doesn't even notice that he now stands by the window, getting a closer view of you. The room has gone quiet as other watch what he is doing but he continues to stare in your direction. There's a hand at his shoulder then, jarring him. His head goes whipped around and someone asks him if he's alright. He gives a stern and rough affirmative and when he turns back to look out the window you are gone and something inside him sinks. Shoulders go rolled back and he puffs out his chest and the meeting resumes. But you never leave his head

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hannieehaee · 8 months ago

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HIIII, i just want you to know every content of yours has always been my fav ,i always anticipate every single writing of yours .

I would like to request reader who is in a relationship with s coups , they have been dating for a very long time. in this scenario, he admires the reader being friends with all of Svt, and how she also loves them and treats them like her little brothers, the rest of Svt enthusiastically greeting her. scoups observes from a distance admiring you with the people he cherishes . he can't help but wonder how he became so lucky to have all these people in his life.

content: bf!seungcheol, established relationship, fluff, afab reader, etc.

wc: 749

a/n: thank u so much im so glad u enjoy my content :D!! hope u like what i came up with c:

masterlist

seungcheol knew he was lucky.

after putting his career on the line at a very young age by joining an unknown company and seeing himself forced to endure all types of trials to succeed, he was now showered with accolades on a daily basis.

he had his twelve brothers, a successful career, a healthy family, a daughter (in the form of kkuma), a loving fanbase, riches and wealth. he had everything a man could possibly want. and just when he thought he possessed every luxury known to man, you came along.

you were the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld. he had met you only by a chance, in a fleeting encounter when he caught sight of you during one of his schedules. he had been bewitched from that moment by not only your beauty, but also the demeanor of your person. seungcheol didnt know you then, but he knew he needed to.

one thing led to another and he somehow made you his. this, however, did not come without much effort. seungcheol fought tooth and nail against any and every obstacle that separated him from you, with the end result being your current relationship, which had been going strong for a few years now.

everything was at ease now. now seungcheol truly had everything he could ever want. not only did he have all the aforementioned luxuries, but he also had you to share them with.

you were practically another member of his family by now. his mother had easily adopted you as a daughter, and his family had welcomed you with open arms, practically treating you as his wife – something which always made seungcheol's heart soar and cheeks warm up.

not to mention kkuma, who claimed you as her mom from the moment a smitten seungcheol introduced you to her. nothing made seungcheol's heart fill up more than playing family with the two of you, merely practicing for what would come next in your relationship. providing for the both of you in ways he always hoped to do for the wife and kids he always envisioned was something that filled him with indescribable pride.

and lastly, his brothers, who had now become your own.

seungcheol never tired of seeing you with his friends, always having to fight the embarrassing grin that always invaded his face when he brought you around to play with them.

you had a special friendship with each member; each of which seungcheol was always attentive to (from a distance, as he liked to enjoy the view).

with jeonghan, you had developed a sibling rivalry, always fighting over ownership to seungcheol's heart (and wallet). the two of you would banter often, claiming that there was only space in seungcheol's heart for one of you.

"i was here first!", jeonghan would smirk

"but im the one he takes to bed," you'd counter.

"are you sure about that?", jeonghan would tease.

and the argument would go on and on as seungcheol rolled his eyes and feigned annoyance at your friendly rivalry.

sometimes you'd be occupied by chan, who would try and entice you into dealing with seungcheol's moods in order for the members to slack off and go play rather than practice.

"c'mon! he likes you, just distract him so we can go get some tteokbokki! we'll bring you some," would promise chan, thinking his friend was none the wiser.

"bring me some soju and we have a deal", you'd always join in on the scheme, knowing your boyfriend could use a break after all.

at other times you'd join him and his friends at the gym, always up for a challenge against the gym rats in the group.

"bet i can deadlift more than you," would challenge mingyu.

"well, no shit, you're like seven feet tall!", you'd counter.

"bet i can deadlift your whole weight", joshua would join in.

"no one's deadlifting my girlfriend!", now seungcheol would intervene.

seungcheol had countless instances in which he would watch from afar and enjoy the view. the fruits of his labor accompanied by all the people who made it there with him, with you being a huge contributor.

in moments like these, there was no way for seungcheol to hide the happiness he felt at having his favorite people be each other's favorites in return. seungcheol wasn't sure what he'd done in his past life to end up here, but he'd do it a thousand times over if it meant this was the outcome every single time.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen #svt #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #svt oneshot #svt imagines #svt reactions #seventeen reactions #svt fluff #seventeen fluff

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bluemerakis · 25 days ago

Text

┌── ˚*❀*̥˚ ─── ˚*̥❀*˚ ──┐

✐ᝰ bluemerakis

┗━━• ❃ ° •° ❀ °• ° ❃ •━━┛

❝ Scout’s Honour ❞

⤷ Word count: a lot

!! 18+ ONLY !!

Pls imagine he has his sexy beard in these gifs

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WARNINGS:

Billy x fem!reader, cussing, very mild angst, smut, fingering, oral f receiving, unprotected sex p in v (wrap it pls), cock-warming, lmk if I forgot any

SYNOPSIS:

Billy slips into the apartment in the early hours of a new day, after having abandoned you for a few nights in order to tend to business. You never minded a busy schedule, so as long as the time spent at your side balanced it out. However, he’s been slacking in his efforts, and you’re not one to be brushed aside whenever things got inconvenient.

He attempts to curb your anger with his god-given charm and bedroom generosity, and you’re almost tempted to forgive him—almost. But after a very generous, very convincing tongue to your cunt, and a good few of his inches stuck within you, you’re eventually compelled to give him another chance.

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The creak of the apartment door plucked your consciousness from the chasm of sleep. Your eyes split open without a breath to spare, your body still fuelled by the pent up adrenaline of the past shit-filled week. The door made a muffled click of closure before a sequence of heavy thuds pulled forth from you a more urgent sense of alertness. You lifted your head in a swift motion to spare a groggy glance over your shoulder, your agitation laid to rest by the scene of your beloved intruder traipsing across the dim, open-plan apartment—but the annoyance surrounding his prolonged absence quickly took its stead.

What was usually a temporary work setback that would only keep Billy away for a night or two had turned into a painfully drawn out week of his absence—without the courtesy of a notice, might you add. Not that you’d ever admit it to the bugger, but the atmosphere of his apartment had been unbearably dull without his effortless, colourful charisma, and his endearment for the word cunt.

You hadn’t minded that Billy was a busy man, and in any case, you’d made no official obligations to one another that would warrant your feelings. However, the bastard’s pattern of disappearances and reappearances without an explanation had started to wear you thin, and quite frankly, you’d started to feel like cheap company.

You birthed a groan at your premature departure from sleep and turned your head away from Billy’s wandering figure—you’d begrudgingly missed him, but you could hardly be arsed to entertain the questions of his whereabouts when exhaustion so perilously perched itself on your eyelids and burnt your eyes teary for as long as they remained open. This was one of very few occasions where sleep really could solve the problem, so you manoeuvred your body between the sheets and wrapped your arms around your pillow, trapping it against your cheek—a forceful plea to indulge your need for a longer rest.

Your eyes fluttered closed, not needing much prompting, especially with the added bonus of ignoring Billy’s presence entirely. But the voice you’d violently craved throughout your desolate nights traversed the room as a deep echo, plucking forward your consciousness once more.

“D’I wake ya, Love?”

You burrowed your face into the pillow and heaved a frustrated sigh. “It’s either that or you’re talking to a bloody ghost,” you pushed out groggily, your voice rough—breached by the night’s sleep—and muffled by the satin pillowcase.

You heard Billy chuckle half-heartedly from across the room. “D’ya sleep all right?” He asked—an attempt to brush off your foul mood. On a good day, which were most days, he could easily drink up and reciprocate your wit. Clearly, whatever he’d abandoned the bed—and you—for had taken its toll. You didn’t know whether he’d slept at all, when he was out doing whatever it was he so often left to do.

The initial agreement of your whole relationship—if you could call it that—with Billy, was never to ask questions about what he did, where he did them, and why he’s doing them. I don’t want nobody perched on me fuckin’ shoulder, houndin’ me around and playin’ devil’s advocate all bloody day until me head is done in. No babysittin’, no collar round me neck, no fuckin’ fuss, eh? Those were more or less the terms Billy had set forward, but your relationship had evolved since that point. The more nights your bodies had spent entangled, there came a mutual realisation that the company you both provided one another had become more like a deep-rooted, carnal need, rather than a impish way to pass time. Billy was pretty good in getting his cut of it from you, but had been failing to reciprocate the effort on his side. It felt like exploitation, and you’d just about had enough of that.

You came to it eventually, shrugging off the chain of thought that had shackled your brain. “Haven’t slept nearly enough,” you offered curtly.

There was a brief pause from Billy’s side, before he asked, “somethin’ been keepin’ yer up?” Your attention latched onto the hesitant undertone of his voice—barely noticeable, but undeniably there. He was far too good at his reserved facade, but you’d long since trained your ear to tell the truth men just like him would not. “Bet both me bollocks it’s tha’ cooing shit machine tha’ done set up base on the window outside. Annoying li’l fucker—you give me the word, Love, and I’ll evict the plumy wanker.”

His avoidant rambling triggered an involuntary clench of your jaw; you could almost envision the smug, lopsided smirk hitching up the corner of his lips. The moment of silence that had preceded his words made perfect sense—it was an acknowledgement of the truth he refused to directly admit; a rhetorical question he very much knew the answer to. He was no dumb man; he knew he’d gotten his stylish boots stuck ankle-deep in a fat pile of shit with you.

You weren’t nearly sleep-sober enough to entertain his bold query, so in an attempt to purge your exhaustion, you peeled back the comforters and finally sat yourself up to face him. Billy’s head tilted as he drank in your appearance, his expression glazed with the apartment’s dawn gloom, but you could make out the ruffled, jagged peaks of the hair crowning the top of his head—clearly ploughed through by one too many stressed hands.

“And there’s me dashin’ lady. Sincerest top o’ the mornin’ to you, Love,” he said, inching a few steps closer to your corner of the apartment. He hesitated beside the dining room table when his words didn’t enlighten your expression and hummed dramatically. “Knackered, are we?”

Around you, the warm glow of dawn began to creep its way through the crevices of the curtained windows, casting the apartment with an ethereal glow that almost made Billy’s figure appear angelic from where he stood at the other end of the modest quarters. The burly shape of his black-coated silhouette was traced with a line of liquid fire, perfectly encapsulating the true beauty of his essence when he was vulnerable enough to show it—and a beautiful soul he was, minus his impulsive need to play the absentee partner.

You leaned your back against the headboard of the bed, your knees retracting into your abdomen while your arms wrapped around them to trap them against you. “I am knackered,” you mocked matter-of-a-factly. “What was that you asked earlier—has something been keeping me up? Boy, what a question that is, Billy,” you said thinly, and Billy’s eyes narrowed in preparation as the nonchalant smirk was plucked from his lips.

“Well, for starters, these last few nights, the bed has been unbearably cold and empty. Now, I used to share it with a man to keep me all warm and toasty, but that same man? He’s one heck of a busy fucker. He’s always goddamn working—says he’s got his own little enterprise going on, but I’m not allowed to know the first thing about that—so who knows if it’s at all true? He could be out getting a full-course serving of pussy for all I know, while I’m left behind to keep his bed warm until he’s had his external fill of it and comes running back.”

Your convicted man hovered about, the usual furrow in his expression no deeper than usual, but you could tell by the faint tilt of his head that he’d been listening to your rant intently, and the squirming motion of his lower lip implied a tense biting. You squinted your eyes at one of his eyebrows that seemed to be thickened at the arch; you didn’t doubt that it was from the mean kiss of a fist, since he tended to collect enemies and wounds like medals.

“Not to mention the countless times he’s crawled into bed with unexplainable injured littered across his body, and I’m to pretend they’re not existent as I run my hands over them,” you added pointedly. “He’s a strange, mysterious man, and he’s gotten far too comfortable leaving me alone for nights on end and demanding everything his way the moment he returns.” Your brows furrowed sarcastically. “Now, what do you suppose I do about a dick like that?”

“Ya ought to give it a good ol’ wank and a tickle o’ the balls, and just before his shit hits the ceiling, yer give the tip o’ his knackers a diabolical twisty,” Billy suggested flippantly, his hands raised to mimic the theoretical scene.

“Cut the Billy-bullshit,” you snapped. “It’s bloody well been a week since I last saw you—and the shit you do is so goddamn sketchy, I had no fucking idea if you were even still alive. You couldn’t have even said goodbye, or, I don’t know, told me where the hell you were going to fuck off to?”

Billy’s hands were spread open into a scoff of a gesture. “Oi, gimme a bit ‘o credit there, will yer, Love? No Supe cunt has managed to put me in a grave for a good kip just yet.” He torqued his chin in that characteristic manner of his. “And I ain’t goin’ out without a nuclear bang; you’d have seen me face all over that shite news channel with me bloody arm stuck half way up that Homelander’s Comp V arsehole—like a good ol’ rectal exam.”

Confusion took the stead of annoyance at his mention of Comp V, but you were far more interested in the mention of Supes and the Homelander himself. This was the first time Billy had ever let on a fraction of information about who he was routinely involved with every time he disappeared—a royal fuckup, no doubt. You’d always been a determined girl with a knack for satisfying your curious itch, and that combination didn’t bode well for Billy’s need of discretion.

You’d have been a slow fool to question who Homelander was. While you’d never personally taken interest in the leader of the so-called gifted band of heroes who practically governed the state, you’d heard of enough incidents to know that The Seven were far from do-gooders. So, just what the hell would a man like Billy be doing with them? He was no angel—gods, you knew that, but he was not nearly tainted enough to sit and share bread at the table of the Superheros. Comp V, however? That term didn’t place among your knowledge. You wanted to—needed to know more.

You leant away from the bed frame and tilted your head with blunt scrutiny. “What business do you have with a freaky man-Supe like Homelander?” You asked sceptically. “Have you got friends up in higher places that I don’t know about? And what the hell is Comp V?”

Billy’s expression seem to buffer over your words, his shoulders lightly tilting from side to side as his brain took to working around his apparent slip up. “Ne’ermind you that, Love,” he averted eventually, reaching up a hand to swipe a quick scratch across his bearded chin. “Nothin’ to pick yer pretty li’l brain ‘bout, eh? Now, ya fancy a nosh? Me appetite’s just ‘bout burned through me stomach wall.”

You ignored his divergence, your expression hardening with warning. “You’re going to play games with me at this very early hour of the day, William?”

The use of his full name made Billy’s head tilt back in the slightest manner, his chin lifting with a notion of denial, then acceptance. You watched him furrow his thick brows and offer a low grunt before his head dropped to shrug off the weight of your accusing stare. His gaze remained averted as he rolled his shoulders to shed his signature black coat, and with that, his hard-ass facade he so often paraded under the public’s eye. In here—around you, he was afforded to step out of that role every once in a while.

The forsaken coat made for a gracious reveal of Billy’s fine-toned pair of biceps, the very set that had pinned you against this bed on far too many occasions. But you didn’t allow yourself to entertain those lustful memories for too long, knowing the power they possessed in their ability to completely eradicate any ill-will you currently bore him.

You followed the whisk of his arms as he moved to drape the coat across the nearest chair that bordered the circumference of the circular dining table, then watched as reached across to snatch a half-drained bottle of whiskey from its surface. A low fuckin’ hell split his lips as he sank himself down into the coat-crowed chair, his figure perfectly positioned to oppose you. You heard the whiskey bottle gurgle as he titled the nozzle into his mouth and eagerly began draining the beverage.

You squinted at the nerve of his nonchalance, then pushed on more pettily. “What, nothing to say at all?” You scoffed. “Never could get you to shut up, and now when you talking would actually offer something valuable, you choose to bite your tongue?”

Billy’s adam’s apple dipped with a large gulp before he lowered the whiskey bottle and dragged a brisk thumb across his froth-kissed beard, his hand falling away to offer a lopsided smirk. “I meant what I said when we first started this sweet, little rendezvous o’ ours, Love—no hounding me on me own fuckin’ business,” he warned. “That were our deal, weren’t it?

“Yeah, well , I’m no business man,” you retorted. “But by all means, continue with your shady shit. All I’m saying is give a girl a warning or two from time to time instead of pulling a hit and run in the middle of the night like some prepubescent asshole.”

Not sparing him the luxury of a back and fourth bicker, you sank yourself back into the centre of the bed and laid your head onto the pillow—deliberately facing yourself away from him. You didn’t even care to wrap yourself back underneath the comfort of the sheets, you just needed to shrink away from this conversation.

“Just do what you do best—leave and let me get some sleep, please,” was all you murmured.

“All right, don’t get yer pretty knickers ina twist, now,” Billy soothed.

You heard the distant rustle of fabric, followed by a grunt of effort, before the thump of his boots escalated toward you and then ceased to exist entirely. The clank of the whiskey bottle settled on the bedside table at your head, and a few seconds later, you felt his knuckles graze a light trail from your exposed shoulder down to your elbow—a beckon for your attention, but when you stubbornly kept your head turned the opposite way, his hand retreated.

“Oi, would you just look at me, Love?”

“Can’t,” you said curtly, eyes forcibly screwed shut. “Sleeping. Now, shut your trap.”

You thought that the last of it, until the mattress at your back suddenly gave slight way and Billy sat himself down beside you. His arm reached across your thigh, his hand finding sanctuary at your knee, which was tucked into yourself as you laid in foetus formation. You tried hard to ignore his imposition, but all hope at fashioning that mask began to crumple as his thumb began wiping aimlessly along your skin—a rhythmic back and fourth motion that was oddly soothing to your stress-riddled, exhausted body.

“Look,” he began—it was a tone far more genuine than you’d ever thought him capable of, and it piqued your interest enough to open your eyes. “I know I been doin’ a mighty shite job at stayin’ around here—bein’ with you and all tha’. I ain’t exactly fuckin’ Romeo with a loyal pair o’ bollocks when it comes to relationships, but tell yer what—” he paused to boldly trail his knuckle down your thigh. “I’ll try and do better by yer—I mean tha’, even if I’m a ripe, stinkin’ cunt at times.”

You listened keenly to Billy’s words, but his lack of a clear apology still leered at some petty part of you. The sensational line that he began to draw down the skin of your thigh was an unexpected and very difficult arousal to suppress, your legs subtly drawing together to safeguard the root of all lustful feelings, which began to brew with the threat of bubbling over should he continue his actions. You made the conscious decision not to give into his ministrations so easily, so you pushed aside your growing arousal and decided to focus on the fat lump of unresolved anger still wedged in your throat—a hard pill to swallow.

“Is that supposed to be an apology?” You asked, your field of vision falling into obscurity as you focused on nothing in particular. You could see Billy shift in the very edge of your periphery, the hand tracing patterns on your thigh removed to welcome the cool air of the morning. That same hand didn’t forsake you for long. Within a few seconds, he had a grip on your jaw, his thumb and index finger gently, yet firmly bracketing your chin.

“Spare me a look-see,” he mocked gently, your head forcibly turned up to him. Obliged beyond choice, you allowed yourself a closeup of the man you’d so dearly missed, shifting onto your back to better your view of him.

There was a lot to appreciate about Billy’s face, but for once, it wasn’t the bedroom eyes or the devilish smirk that captured your attention off the bat. Instead, your eyes flickered about the red lines etched across his face—markings that had not been there only a few nights ago, when you’d littered kisses all along the contours of his face. These cuts were fresh, the blood in the trenches of flesh still clotting and very shy of a scab. The discovery caused annoyance to prick at your chest, but you’d long since forsaken anger. If you’d ever managed to successfully talk Billy out of a fight, you’d have cracked a billion dollar contract by now.

“I look dashin’, don’t I?” He poked at your mindless glaring, then his expression softened as he drank in yours—reserved, save the unimpressed scowl. “Me face looks like a slapped arse, I know—bet yer half wishin’ to add another spank to this shitshow, eh?” He chuckled.

“Don’t temp me,” you scoffed, jutting your chin to the side to dislodge his hold on you. “God, did the other guy stick you through a paper shredder?” You shot, then added, “you look like absolute shit, I’m almost starting to believe you get off on a good beating.”

Billy Butcher was a man infamous for modelling a face of cuts and bruises, always managing to enlist a fist to the face through one interaction or the other. He wasn’t a particularly adored man, but you’d never found fault with that—it only meant more him for you, after all. You’d have appreciated that fact more if he’d been around enough.

“Oh, come off it,” he scoffed. The hand that had been robbed of your jaw now moved to swipe an aimless scratch across his beard, his gaze averting to the other end of the apartment with a forlorn expression. You recognised the turmoil in his features as an attempt to find the right words to express his more mushy feelings—not an easy feat for the asture, balls-of-steel Butcher.

“Look, I’ve been a plus-sized arse, I know that. I warned ya, ladies like you don’t stick around men like me for too long. The shit I do? Diabolical stuff, Love. Trust me, yer better off left behind in this bed where none o’ that can pucker up to yer arsehole like a good, mean case of diarrhoea.” He paused to soften his expression. “Just tryin’ to protect ya, is all,” he added softly.

You sniffled softly as you held his earnest stare, then forced yourself to sit up, while Billy simultaneously shifted to give you space. You searched his features for a few seconds and only saw sincerity—an eerily, misplaced emotion on his brute features, so the lump in your throat began to loosen an inch, permitting you swallow with more natural ease.

“Fine,” you relented softly, allowing the tension moulding your features to soften. “All will be forgiven, Billy Butcher—only if you start making an effort to treat me like less of a stress-reliever, and more like a person who wants a genuine connection with you.”

He gave a cheeky cock of his head. “Wha’, ya don’t like the way I blow off steam? Yer cunt ain’t ever said the same thing.”

“Classy,” you scoffed. But not wrong. Billy sniggered with his all-knowing grin.

You shifted yourself onto your knees as you began to make your way across the mattress and towards him. He watched you through a calculating look, his attention making a mischievous dip toward your thighs, so perfectly displayed in your finely cut pyjama shorts. You ignored the innuendo in his wandering eyes, reaching out an arm to clasp his shoulder for support. You leaned onto his broad frame as you meandered your way onto his lap, and his hands found grip at your hips as he aided your movement to straddle his thighs, his eyes hounding your every move.

“Makin’ yerself right at home, eh?” He remarked suggestively.

Once you settled in position, his hands trailed up to your waist to deliver a light squeeze to your neglected body, his palms then settling flat against the exposed stretch of skin deserted by the length of your cropped tank. His touch was warm—almost too warm, like he had something to prove following your very dramatic claim of the cold, lonely nights you’d endured. His hands began dragging a sensual pathway along your frame before settling at the small of your back, where he held you firmly against him—you wouldn’t be shunning him again anytime too soon, as fortified by his hold on you.

You curled your one hand around the nape of Billy’s neck, the other moving to frame the side of his head. “You look worse than a bruised prune,” you said, making a point to press your thumb across the fresh cut forming a vicious, bloodied trough through the arch of his brow. It was almost nasty enough to rival the scar tracing the opposite end of his forehead.

“Oi!” Billy protested, his head momentarily tilting away from you. “Yer got a bloody thumb on ya, fuckin’ hell. Save yer fingering for the little miss cunt down there.”

“Oh trust me, I have,” you retorted, to which a meld of surprise and admiration hitched his brows. You returned your finger to the cut in his brow, more tenderly this time as you felt across the surrounding blotchy purple-yellow bruise and then flitted to caress another cut along his cheek and the opposite temple. “After all, somebody’s got to keep me satisfied when you’re not around, and be thankful it was myself, you dick.”

“All right,” he said. “Fair enough, but I ain’t been dipping me wick in another woman’s wax, Love, so how’s ‘bout we lay off the poncy pouting—make no further delay in the inevitable amalgamation o’ pleasure the both of us are ‘bout to be?” The hands at your back burrowed under the waistband of your shorts and underwear with slick ease—a far too rehearsed and perfected performance. The way his large palms spanned a considerable area of your buttocks never failed to get the groin going; he knew that.

“You’ve got a lot to atone for before you get a good milking,” you warned, hand falling away from his face. Though, Billy’s grip on your ass began to tighten persuasively, and you thought that he could potentially work a few, unfair angles in order to knock off a good amount days from that sex-deprived sentence.

You partially turned your torso to reach for the whiskey bottle he’d set on the bedside table, snatching up the beverage at the neck of the glass. You turned back to him, and his eyes lowered to the drink with a cheeky gleam.

“Fancying a swig at the peek o’ dawn?” he poked. “Been learnin’ a thing or two from me, it seems.”

“It’s for you, obviously,” you said, lifting the nozzle to the wound in his brow. “A toast to your idiocy—cheers.” You tilted the bottle to free the whiskey, and the beverage formed a bubbly waterfall as it cascaded through the reddened cleft in his brow. The amber liquid slithered down his cheek and through the wilderness of hair framing his jaw, then reappeared at the base of his neck to seep into the collar of his floral shirt.

You never did miss the glint of the chain always wrapped around Billy’s neck like a lifelong claim of ownership, adorned with a St Christopher medal—an oath of some sort—which dangled from the steel-linked wreath. And it didn’t escape your notice now as a few of the silver links gleamed with rogue beads of whiskey. It must’ve been a keepsake from a past relationship that had meant a large deal to Billy, but the mystery of its continued existence around his neck was a secret barred from your common knowledge. If it had been a gift from somebody who meant a lot to him, it was a rather odd one—he didn’t particularly strike you as a man who dabbled in religious beliefs of protective saints. Then again, how much did you really know about Billy Butcher?

Either way, Billy had never once spoken about it, despite the many times you’d openly assaulted it’s presence with curious eyes. And there were some things you just would not push, despite your tendency to get brash. So, you’d made peace with the fact that perhaps he would never grant you the key to that particular cell of memories, but you couldn’t honestly say that the implied emotional ties of it all didn’t bother you—and more so, how that influenced his regard for you.

You were plucked from your gnawing thoughts at the sound of Billy sucking air. His teeth were bared as he stifled a guttural wince, and his eye had collapsed closed under the assaulting burn of the whiskey.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell!” he barked, his hands shifting up their position on your arse to rest on the upper curves, gripping them tightly like they were a lifeline for support. “Stings like the kiss of a bloody bee’s arse.”

“Always a pleasure enlisting your colourful poetry.” You retreated with the bottle and burrowed the glass body between your thighs, your hand then returning to aid his face. You swiped your thumb across his closed eye and along his half-drenched face eradicate the film of whiskey. “The prick did a number on you,” you remarked.

Billy tilted his head away from your prying thumb, “Yeah, well, that wanker takes the win on this one,” he insisted. “His lips done looked like a fat cunt by the time I finished him.”

You hummed absentmindedly in response, then felt as one of his hands abandoned the seize on your buttocks to capture your hand at the wrist. He lifted it up into the space between your torsos, his head slightly tilted to fix you with an unwavering stare as he released your wrist and his fingertips began a soft, upward trajectory along the tender skin. Your attention lowered to the work of his fingers as they passed into the gentle rise and hollow of your palm, before each digit diverged to claim a spot between your own fingers, and there they interlocked with near-perfect harmony.

Billy often reminded you that hands were meant to exist in pairs other than your own two when he performed gestures like these. It made sense, really, considering how perfectly fingers could interlink with one another—as though intimacy had always been engraved into the DNA of their skeleton.

He made a gentle twist of his wrist to expose the backside of your hand to his exploitation, and he lowered his lips in an antagonisingly slow manner to press a kiss to your knuckles, all while drinking in the look on your face.

You savoured the warm and gentle flush of his breath against your skin while it lasted; it reinforced the truth of his return and his presence right here before you. The loneliness had gotten overwhelming—a thought that scared you. The moment you admitted that Billy’s absence had an effect on the daily flow of events in your life, you’d have to admit that you’d gotten far too attached to an inevitably temporary situation.

You’d always been vulnerable to emotional investment, forming attachments with anybody you’d been afforded the opportunity to properly flesh out your five senses with; the prolonged touch of handholding, a connecting glance, being adorned with a cologne-scented clothing item of theirs, the sound of their laugh in response to a poorly made joke, or the taste of a shared kiss. It was a gift to love somebody the way you could love, but a curse when cast upon a man like Billy Butcher.

“Oi, Love,” he beckoned to you, the remaining hand on your ass squeezing lightly. You averted your gaze from your intertwined hands to glance at him, his head was slightly tilted as if to gauge a better understanding of the thoughts holding your speech hostage. “S’a weekend, so tell tha’ busy brain o’ yers to take a bloody day off, eh?”

You lifted your chin lightly, your nostrils flaring with a breath to reset your thoughts. “There’s been a lot going on lately, all right?” You said, wriggling your hand within Billy’s in an attempt to shake his hold, but his grip on you only tightened, so you accepted defeat and allowed your hand to fall limp.

He tucked your conjoined hands into the warmth of your thighs, careful not to knock the whiskey bottle. “Got places to be?” He asked insincerely, a mischievous grin peaking through.

“Apparently not,” you answered with a beleaguered sigh.

“Atta girl—right ya are!” Billy praised, then leant his head forward in an attempt to press a kiss to your lips. Your other hand that you had comfortably nestled atop his shoulder moved to intercept the action with an index finger to his lips, which left him with a frown of disappointment.

You pressed your finger into his lips slightly harder than necessary before sliding your fingertip down into the bearded divot of his chin, adorned with the moisture of whiskey. There, you prodded him away meanly, his chin jutting into himself with the motion.

His eyes drooped with disappointment. “Clenchin’ the arsehole outta spite, are we?” He said snarkily because Billy Butcher didn’t like, nor tolerate rejection. You knew that his ego had taken the front-seat, now.

As much as you’d have loved to further emasculate him with some petty banter, you merely reached for the whiskey bottle trapped between your thighs and eagerly brought the liquor to your lips. You managed a few, generous swigs as you held Billy’s stare—a mixture of surprise and respect dancing in his hazel depths. You felt a stray line of whiskey escape your swallow at the corner of your lip, slinking down the side of your jaw. You also noted the way Billy’s attention lowered to that same escapee bead of liquor, his eyes narrowing as though entertaining some internal thoughts of his.

Once you’d decidedly had enough of the whiskey, you lowered the bottle with a hearty swallow and held it out before you to see how much of the drink still remained. There was a decent amount of it left—enough to fill a glass and a half. Satisfied, you brought it back up to hover it over Billy’s head with a sarcastic smile.

“Bottoms up,” you cheered.

“Don’t ya fuckin’—” he was silenced by the stream of whiskey being inevitably poured onto his head and he dropped his chin to avoid a direct assault on his eyes—his generous and voluminous field of hair took the brunt of the force and flattened under the foamy weight of it all. Very little strands of hair were left unmarred by wetness, and the floral patterns in shirt had darkened considerably, mostly at the base of his neck. He released his grip on your hand and ass to run a hand through his hair and across his face. “Fuckin’ son o’ cunt,” he spat, his lashes fluttering with a strained attempt to open his eyes.

You tossed the empty whiskey bottle across the bed, watching as Billy managed to lift his head and part his screwed eyes at last. He was still dripping at the brow, and upon making eye contact with you, he passed an angry swipe of his tongue across his lips with the intent to scold you—but you didn’t give him the chance to fume as you gripped either side of his jaw and forcibly pushed your lips against his.

He made a noise halfway between a grunt and a moan in response to your imposition, but shortly returned the kiss with an aggressive push of his own lips. You lapped up the amalgamation of whiskey and cigar smoke that basted his tongue like a starved street mutt while his large hands came down harshly on your ass—the reprimand that he hadn’t verbally been able to deliver, but you had a feeling that this was only the beginning, and that he’d have well made his point by the end of this heated, physical debate.

You felt the twinge of his nails even through the fabric of your shorts as he gripped you there and pressed your pelvis into him, the act so possessive you felt as though there were an unspoken presence in this room that Billy had a point to prove to. But his hold on you hadn’t come to a standstill—instead, he began to forcibly guide your lower half into a rhythmic dance akin to the waves of the ocean, to and fro, riding the shore of his ever-growing erection. His steering of your hips was godsent, the angle just right enough to provide sensory input to your own sensitive mound. Billy might’ve been self-serving in the pursuit of pleasure when it came to the bedroom, but he never neglected your own needs.

You bit your tongue to stifle the moans threatening to flee your lips. The last thing you needed was for your musical pleasure to whisper directly into Billy’s ear, cooing to his erection. Although you’d already given him exactly what he’d wanted by initiating this steaming mess, you wouldn’t make the entire process that easy for him.

As you were forcibly ground against Billy’s manhood, his kisses grew more impatient and sloppy, his teeth periodically seizing your lips somewhere in the mix. Your hands trailed down his bearded neck—further smearing the whiskey—to take grip at his shoulders before running your hands over the defined muscles, flexed while he worked at kneading your hips, waist and ass in an erratic, patternless desperation. The added stimulation of your skin-on-skin contact with his shoulders seemed to spur him on, his throat reverberating with a gruff moan that you instantly plucked from your shared kiss and shamelessly drank up.

Billy’s one hand shifted from his grip on your ass up to the small of your back; you felt the way his fingertips had grown sticky with the whiskey, puckering your skin every time he made contact and then abruptly moved away. Without warning, his palm curled supportively around your waist and he effortlessly hoisted your body against his navel, the other hand curling across your bottom. He pulled away from the kiss, his thick brows furrowed with focused intent as his eyes flickered all across your features.

“Yer a bleedin’ pain in me arse, y’know tha’?” Billy said in rough, breathy syllables. He then stole one last kiss to silence the stinging retort that was sure to accompany the indignant twist in your expression, and in an effortless motion, he had you on your back in less than a second.

“You aren’t exactly all sunshine and rainbows, either,” you countered through a huff, hands wrapping supportively around the nape of his neck as you suspended yourself from his overhanging frame. Your expression turned challenging. “Besides, you seem to enjoy pain,” you say pointedly, eyes flickering to the gash in his brow. “So I’m actually quite on-brand company, don’t you think?”

He gave a relenting torque of his chin, charming smirk plastered to his lips. “S’pose yer right. Must be why I fancy ya, then, eh?” He straightened up onto the support of his knees, his hands shifting to find place at your waist before he slid them up your frame to peel back the tank top concealing his desired view. “Now, lemme see me neglected pair o’ girls,” he demanded in an impatient grunt. “Tell ‘em daddy’s home.”

You grimaced lightly at Billy. “Don’t be gross,” you told him, hands falling away from his shoulders to aid his stripping of your torso.

“Bollocks,” he replied almost instantly, “yer love it.” You did—deep down, you devoured his crass attention. He had no difficulty sliding the tank over your head and raised arms, instantly chucking the clothing to some other end of the apartment.

Your hands flew to cover your exposed breasts, your expression alight with cheek as you flashed Billy a toothy grin. He leered you over, an approving smirk on his lips before his hands made an advance towards you. You almost thought he’d make a move to pull back the curtains on your breasts, but instead, his hands cupped your waist.

“All right,” he began—an entertained air about him. “You play it tha’ way.” His hands dipped into the waistband of your shorts, his calloused fingertips teasing at the skin of your back before they found the seem of your underwear and began stripping away the last of your clothed dignity. “Shit’s always arse about face with yer—ne’er the easy way.”

“Easy’s boring,” you told him. He tugged harshly at your shorts & underwear, managing to strip it from your lower half without a struggle. You watched as he shimmied the clothing items down the expanse of your legs, pausing half way to press a greedy kiss to your thigh.

Your legs instinctively squeezed together as the arousal between them became unbearable. Your feet were lifted from the comfort of the bed as Billy stripped the last of your clothing and bundled it aside.

“There we are,” he said with an undertone of accomplishment, his hands moving to curl under your thighs and take steady grip at the skin. Without warning, he tugged you a short length down the bed toward him. You gave a small yelp at being whisked across the sheets, the friction providing a momentary warmth that soothed the skin of your bare back.

“What you say we get the ball runnin’ on this thing, eh?” Billy remarked, and you felt as he encouraged widening of one of your thighs, his other hand making a motion towards your heated mound. You burrowed the back of your head into the sheets almost instantly as his fingers rudely acquainted your folds, teasing at the area that had grown slick with his mere presence.

“Blimey,” he said—an action that made you a tad bit self-conscious. It hadn’t been too long since he’d last seen you down there, but the conditions had already started to become less kept. He’d never been the one to judge, though. He was man enough to be unbothered by trivial matters of body hair. “D’ya have a good weep down here? It done look like a bloody water slide, and I ain’t barely laid a hand on ya,” he said amazedly, fingers grabbing ahold of your clit to deliver a brash squeeze.

Your lower body tensed with the jolt of stimulation his action elicited, and you lifted your head to glare at him. “I almost forgot what an absolute ass of a tease you are,” you told him with the beginning of a frustrated frown.

Billy thumbed an almost apologetic, circular motion around your sensitive area, flashing you a thin-lipped smirk. “Ease off the stick in yer ass, Love, s’all part of the process. Now, you just lay that head o’ yers back like a prissy li’l pillow princess and let good ol’ Billy take care o’ the brunt of things goin’ on down here, all right?”

You didn’t verbally scoff, but the flick of your eyes conveyed the gesture well enough. The hands on your breasts fell away to prop up your torso as you told him, “I’m not a pillow princess. You’re just a greedy—borderline control freak bastard that wants everything his way.”

Billy’s eyes dipped to your exposed chest, and you knew your words had escaped his notice entirely. “Ah, there’s me cheerleaders—come to give me a word of encouragement, have they? Always did love a good audience.” His hand continued to work at your sensitive areas as he brought himself up to your face, other forearm planted supportively beside your head as he leaned over and pressed a firm kiss to your lips.

You kissed him back eagerly, letting yourself fall back against the mattress as you took grip at the base of his neck before blindly reaching down for the buttons of his shirt. You felt the cold pendant of his necklace tease at your neck as he leaned deeper into the abyss of your lips, grunting at your efforts to undo his shirt. You felt his fingers grow impatient between your folds, making a sheer dip into your entrance—and it invited him in without a hassle. You broke off the kiss and sucked air through your teeth at his sudden intrusion, your lower half reflexively tensing with suspense and desire all at once.

“Relax, Love, s’just me—nothin’ new,” Billy murmured breathily against your lips. “Just like we done a thousand times, eh?”

You nodded wordlessly, lips brushing against his—it was well within Billy’s talents to ease the freedom of speech right on out of you, especially with a bedroom talent as skilled as his. You tried consciously to relax your muscles, and Billy had slowed his pace only momentarily to augment your efforts. The success of your attempt was confirmed by his fingers reaching a deeper, warmer depth with each continued thrust, and it wasn’t long before he began to brutalise his pace once more. You gulped hazily, hands hesitating against the fabric of his shirt as his work within you became too much to bear.

“Tha’s a good girl—swallowing me hand whole,” he husked against your jaw. “I know tha’ greedy li’l cunt o’ yers is havin’ a rave down there, but put them hands to work and take me shirt off, will ya, Love?”

Moans of pleasure began to stew in your throat as Billy curled his fingers into you—a foul move when you were already grappling with the near-debilitating euphoria of his lesser ministrations. You tried your best to make headway at undoing the buttons of his shirt as he patiently hovered over you, his kneading of your insides beckoning forth the familiar knot within your core. Once the last button relented, you slid your hands under the middle part of the fabric, palms sliding up his ribcage and across his hairy chest, then toward his shoulders where you tugged the sleeves down his forearms.

The hand buried snugly within your entrance took an abrupt leave as Billy straightened himself and manoeuvred his arms to shed his shirt. He dived back down almost instantly, as though not wanting to lose momentum on the events playing out, both of his hands taking grip at your waist. You felt the slick and warmth of the fingers he’d burrowed within you claw hungrily at your skin, then your attention drew to the upward trail his nose drew between your cleavage, where his lips dawdled greedily.

Your head sank further into the depth of the mattress as you allowed his skilful lips to dance across your skin, his tongue playing fair as he took turns twirling with each of your nipples. Occasionally, he’d deliver a cheeky bite to the sensitive bud, coupled by a husky chuckle when you’d release a wince of pleasure. Your hands took root in his full head of hair, fingers intertwining with the luscious locs and yanking them meanly to even out the playing field of Billy’s work on your breasts. His fingers began to grip harder at your waist, thumb pressing divots into your abdomen, only adding to the pressure that had long since amassed at your core.

“Fucking hell,” you breathed out as Billy’s tongue dragged a warm snail trail down your stomach and across your navel where he settled just shy of your mound with teasing, bordering kisses.

“Fuckin’ hell, indeed,” Billy echoed busily, palms flattened as he grazed them down either side of your hips. He ghosted over your thighs before reaching for your calves and pushing them upward in a gesture to prop up your knees. Once you lifted your legs from the bed, his arms diverged between your legs and curled around them, where he found grip at your inner thighs.

You propped yourself onto your elbows to glimpse your lower half now perfectly presented to Billy, who met your gaze with that scheming smirk of his. “Brace yerself, Love, I’m ‘bout to make a lovely nosh o’ yer cunt,” he warned before his head dipped into your yearning core.

The first greeting of his mouth came as a gaping hole, swallowing your entire being whole. With each lap of his tongue, his sharp nose prodded at your clit, which caused your core to bloom with debilitating pleasure. You tossed your head back, lower lip hauled into the firm clench of your teeth as you drowned the moans attempting to escape the depths of your throat. Straddled at your sides, your fingers furled into the disrupted duvet, ferociously groping the fabric as though it were the tether keeping you from getting swept up into the whirlwind of endorphins.

You adored the way Billy’s beard chafed your folds—coarse hair grating against pliable flesh, and you sought out the stimulation with such eagerness that you began to lift your pelvis deeper into his wet warmth. But the broad hands curled around your thighs proved their strength in the way that Billy kept you pressed against the bed, fingers melding into the flesh of your inner thighs as a feat of authority—control. His jaw began to swivel erratically as his tongue picked up the pace, swirling around, above and below your mound—even making a momentary dip into your slicked entrance. That action plucked an unorthodox moan from your chest, your hand flying to take grip at Billy’s hair.

“Oh, fuck me!” You exclaimed breathlessly, toes beginning to curl against the sheets as his tongue carried you to your climax.

“Tha’s well the plan, innit, Love?” Billy murmured against you, hand patting against your thigh as a teasing gesture of reassurance.

He went on and on, as unrelenting and greedy as the beginning, and the anticipation ricocheting about your lower extremities began to draw into a closely-knitted ball of stimulation just waiting to implode on itself. Your breathing shallowed, your fingers in his hair tightened, your shy noises became more boisterous, but Billy’s tongue pulled away from you, and with it, he quelled the ball of fire he’d lit in the first place.

Your expression furrowed with a mixture of disappointment and exhaustion as you sank back defeatedly into the mattress, the hand in his hair falling onto the sheets as you took a moment to replenish the stock of your lungs. “Asshole,” you huffed—barely audible.

“Oi, shut yer gob and gape yer cunt, ‘cause I ain’t finished with you just yet,” Billy said gruffly, hand reaching for yours. His fingers wrapped around your forearm and tugged suggestively.

Too tired to resist, you curled your fingers around his arm, and you were pulled up effortlessly from the mattress and into his frame. His hands came to rest at your waist, his lips finding yours in a desperate brawl. Your hands cupped his chest, ready to settle in their position as you intended to get lost in his overwhelming presence, but the kiss was abrupt as Billy pulled away to find your neck. He gave your collar bone a little nip, then eased the sting with a kiss before the hands on your hips turned you around and pushed you stomach-first into the mattress.

You gave a light yelp, but his tough fondling of you wasn’t a foreign practice, so you succumbed to his flow. You felt the cool metal of his chain graze up your back as he leant over you, his arm popping into your view as he reached for the pillow and snatched it up. He retreated and withdrew his frame, hand curling under your lower stomach and making the motion to lift you from the bed. You obliged and lifted your hips, to which Billy slid the cushion beneath your lower stomach, and you gladly settled back down into the cushioned support.

“There we are, all prepped for a good poundin’,” he remarked, the sound of his dropped zipper coming shortly after. You cast a glance over your shoulder just in time to witness Billy discarding his jeans and boxers to reveal the buoyancy of his hard-on—a view that you gladly drank up.

“Somebody’s missed me,” you poked.

Billy flashed you a grin, his hand moving to prep his hard-on with a good few strokes. “‘Course,” he said. “Been deprived o’ all worldly pleasures for a whole, bleedin’ week.” He released his manhood and shifted closer to your sprawled frame, hands reaching for your ass. “And yer cunt’s missed me, too.”

“I guess you could say that,” you sighed dramatically, fully aware of the self-forged dam between your legs. You flashed a cheeky grin before turning your head forward, crossing your arms and laying yourself into the support. “Well, have at it, then.”

You felt Billy’s palms caress the curve of your cheeks before he hooked his fingers below your pelvis and pulled your arse into an upward position. “C’mon, up we get. Ain’t s’pose to tell yer what to do—yer a right expert by now.”

You were—it was the same damn position every single time. Billy had a knack for seeing you bent over below him, face down and arse up as you lay all bare and presented for his very generous exploitation. “I’m just making you work for it, for once,” you said.

“Ne’er minded a job,” he answered, hand dipping into your slicked cunt, where he manoeuvred his fingers through the area and gathered and distributed enough of your slick to aid an easy insertion—and it wasn’t long before you felt his length insert into you with a slow and controlled ease.

A deep, hearty grunt of appreciation spewed from Billy’s lips, a low fuckin’ hell thrown somewhere into the mix. You mouth parted with a moan as you felt his girth ascend your entrance, glad for the gracious accommodation of your walls that practically welcomed him with open arms. Your eyes fluttered closed as you bathed in the initial bliss of his penetration, and you purposely perked your arse to deepen the sensation—and to spur him on.

Billy’s hands found a sturdy grip at your ass as his pelvis began to shift against you, the length within you retreating and returning with a steady pace. He held that speed for a good few minutes, feeling out the limits of your entrance, and once he’d reached a decent depth within you, he began to accelerate his movements. A hand slithered up to burrow into the small of your back, your abdomen pushed into the cushion below.

“Fuck, Billy,” you breathed out, pressing your face into the cushion as your arms strangled the feathered mass—his thrusts becoming too much to bear. You’d already endured his fingers & lips, and now the actual prize of the evening was proving too much of a mouthful—perhaps you’d bitten off more than you could chew, but it was far too late to spit out this particular morsel.

“Lovely arch you’ve got here—a bloody gymnast’s dream, that,” Billy teased, palm pressing harder into the small of your back, stomach further buried into the pillow—placed at your navel for the support he’d very much intended you to use. “Doing so well, Love, hang on f’me just a li’l longer, yeah?”

Blissful moans marinated within your throat, the sound hitched rhythmically by the slam of his pelvis against you. The bed rocked and creaked with the commotion, your propped lower half beginning to sag with exhaustion to the point where your entire weight was supported in Billy’s grip. You gnawed at your lip as his thrusts got harsher, faster—a means to an end.

The hand on your back moved to wrap within your hair. “Go on, use yer lungs, Love,” Billy demanded in a breathless grunt, using the hair he’d seized into his hand as leverage to hoist your head from the muffled comfort of the pillow.

Your head snapped into full extension, forcing you to take in the view of the pristine white ceiling overhead, not that the flecks of white dancing across your field of view allowed for much appreciation on your end. The compliance came like a reflex, shameless noises of pleasure streaming from your gaped jaw.

“Yeah, tha’s it,” he praised gruffly, his movements growing erratic. He paused his thrusts only to fold himself over you, his chest pressed against your back and his pelvis flattening your own against the mattress. He resumed his brutish movements, plunging your bodies with a motive that felt akin to reaching the depths of hell. His lips brushed against your ear, exhaustion latched onto his voice. “What you say we fill ‘er up, eh? Ya want that?”

His hand in your hair tightened, your neck further craning with the motion. “Need it,” you muttered thinly, your eyes growing watery with the overwhelming sensations flitting all about your being. “Please.”

“‘Cause yer asked so nicely,” Billy grunted into your head, then pressed a kiss to your temple. With a last bout of rocking, he delivered one last thrust that struck your core with all the pressure it needed to implode.

Your hair was released from his grip and your head fell into the crook of your folded arms, chest heaving as you fought to cling to the little sense you still possessed. Billy’s figure loitered on top of you, and you felt the way his own chest mirrored your exhaustion—if not worse. You sometimes forgot that he was riddled with a good few years of life, but he very rarely let that on in the bedroom.

The warmth of your shared arousal trickled from your entrance and watered the sheets below, but Billy stayed burrowed within you as you both laid motionless on the mattress. You didn’t mind it, though.

“Fuuuckin’ hell,” Billy groaned hoarsely, eventually slipping from your proximity and shifting onto the mattress beside you. He wasted no time in wrapping an arm across your back, hand tugging to pull your back into his chest so that you were comfortably spooned within his broad frame.

You melded yourself into his body, his arm sliding beneath your neck to offer your head some support while his other hand curled over your waist. His lips brushed against your shoulder, where he pressed a few, tender kisses—as if to compensate for his lack of playing nice for the entirety of the morning. You offered a light noise of contentment, a soft smile spreading your lips as your eyes fluttered closed.

All your worries? Forgotten as of now. Nothing mattered for the time being—you just needed to melt away into Billy’s presence. You knew he likely felt the same—a silent ghost whose hand on your waist dragged sensual lines across the skin, his breathing slowed as his jaw rested against your head.

“An Eggs Benedict would complete this morning,” you eventually spoke up, craning your head to glance at him with a suggestive hitch of your brows.

Billy grunted, his chin jutting in defeat. “Yeah, yeah, let a man catch ‘is breath first, then I’ll tend to me lady’s needs. Deal?”

You grinned with a sense of accomplishment. “Deal,” you replied, puckering your lips for a kiss. He leant over to press his lips against yours, and you turned away with a cheeky grin. “Old man,” you murmured cheekily.

“Oi,” he warned, hand on your waist delivering a light squeeze. “This old man fucks yer better than any other cunt ever did, innit?”

You shrugged dramatically. “All right, Billy, whatever you say.”

He scoffed with amused defeat. “Like I said,” he began, “yer a bleedin’ pain in me arse.”

“And don’t you forget it.” You bit the inside of your cheek, mind wandering back to the events of the morning. You had to admit that the anger you’d been harbouring towards Billy had long since eased away—might have very well been fucked right on out of you. If he could keep up this newfound apologetic package of his, you’d happily forgive any of his future shortcomings.

“Wha’s on yer mind?” Billy asked.

“I forgive you.”

“Well,” he remarked smugly. “Ain’t ya adorable?”

“Yes,” you answered instantly. “I am—so don’t fuck it up.”

“Don’t intend to, Love,” he said, pulling you closer against him. “Ain’t got the universe on me side next time yer work up a storm about all me shit. I’ll do right by yer, like I said.”

You turned to face him, your expression earnest as you gazed up at him. “Promise?”

Billy mirrored your stare with a soft smile. “Scout’s honour,” he said. “And yer give me a bloody ear if I break it, all right?”

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Thank you for reading!

I’m literally so sick of this piece I just want it out of my drafts 😭 apologies for any typos, it’s not entirely proof read towards the end. I hope y’all enjoyed it regardless!

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Other Billy Butcher / Karl Urban works:

I M A G I N E S

Carnival for Kisses

Lover Boy Butcher

S M A U s

Pov you hardlaunch your relationship with Karl Urban

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Tags: @violent-darkness @gibson-g1rl @shirley-girly @kus-babygirl @internetitgirl17 @dwinchesterspie1967 @babyfri3dric3

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