#I was fun and decently attractive

[icantalk710]

Tell me, what's...

Tell me, what's your favorite colour~

[gurugirl]

DILF | older!harry

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Y/n meets an older man at a bar and she's not taking no for an answer. Harry likes her persistence.

A/N: This was requested + this! Also, please think before you judge Y/n. She is very bold and confident in this. Maybe even a little pushy but Harry likes it (even if at first he doesn't give that impression). Also he's single so this isn't cheatrry!

Word Count: 6,580

Warning: age gap, smut, alcohol consumption (light)

. .

"That one. Total dilf. He looks grumpy. Bet you can't crack him."

Y/n laughed at her friend and looked down at her red-painted nails before narrowing her gaze on the attractive older man who was seated at the corner of the bar alone. He was nursing a whisky and he did look rather sullen. Unapproachable even.

"Why him?"

"Because he's hot. And I'm curious to see if you can get him to smile at least," Warren raised her brows, "I dare you."

Y/n tilted her head and assessed him. He was nice and big, taking up a decent amount of space at the bar, broad shoulders and back hunched as he leaned his muscular forearms on the wood of the bar top. Meaty hands placed on either side of his lowball glass. Thick brown waves on top of his head with a bit of silver coming in at the temples. But the handsome features on his face really set him apart. His granite jawline gave way to stubble that stretched over his skin and shaded in the spaces around his pink lips.

If she could "crack" him she wasn't sure she'd want just a smile. He looked yummy enough to eat.

Drinking down the last of her martini she pointed at Warren and then Tara, "Fine. Give me twenty minutes and I'll have him eating from the palm of my hand."

Tara laughed, "If you say so…"

She placed her heeled feet down on the floor and brushed her hands over her dress, "Oh, I do say so. Just watch and learn, ladies."

Y/n wasn't quite that confident, but she wasn't about to say no to dare. And she could hold her own when it came to flirting. She liked getting a little attention and if she could garner this one's interest it might be fun.

She sauntered up to the bar behind the man and noticed the way his t-shirt stretched over his lats and tapered loosely down at his waist. The guy was fit. And lucky her, there was an open stool next to him.

Sliding onto the seat she waved at the bartender to order another drink. She'd need all the courage she could get, in whatever form she could get it.

Tapping her long nails on the lacquered wood she felt nerves thrumming through veins before turning toward the man finally. He hadn't seemed to take note of her yet, which honestly was unusual in most cases. Maybe she thought too highly of herself but men tended to notice her right away. She appreciated the challenge, though.

Reaching her hand into his space to greet him, she pushed down her nerves to sound steady as she spoke, "I'm Y/n."

She watched his brow furrow as he turned to look at her hand and then up at her eyes, his expression, which she expected would soften once he looked at her, was unamused. A single light overhead lit the tops of their heads as a shadow cast over the side of his face and he didn't make a move to shake her hand, "And I'm old enough to be your dad."

A surprised scoff fell from her lips as she moved her hand away from him. She wiggled in her seat and crossed her leg over her thigh toward him, gulping down the initial rejection with as much grace as she could muster, "I think you're jumping to conclusions about my intentions. But so what if you're older than me? I don't mind. We're both adults, right?"

An unimpressed grunt rumbled from his throat before he took another sip of his whisky and he looked away from her toward the TV that hung not far away from where they sat.

The bartender placed her olive martini down on the bar in front of her, "It'll be on Y/n Y/l/n. I already have an open tab."

A sip of the salty drink felt warm down her throat. So he was going to be a bit tough to crack. She turned to look at her friends who were grinning in her direction.

Straightening her back to feel more confident she tried again, "So you're not gonna tell me your name even?"

Without looking at her, he licked his lips and ticked his jaw, "Y/n, I think it's past your bedtime."

She smiled at that. He'd said her name, which meant he'd been listening, "My bedtime is whenever I say it is, not when some grouchy stranger says."

He puffed out an amused laugh through his nose, "I am a stranger. Which means you should be cautious, little girl. Your dad didn't teach you about things like that?" He turned to look down at her again, and that time she saw the soft green color of his eyes as the light hit his face just right.

But now she was really determined. She smiled brightly at him and let her eyes coast over his tattooed arm and then back up to his face, "Are you telling me you're dangerous?"

He still didn't smile as he shook his head like he was surprised by her gall, "Do your parents know what you're up to tonight?"

"I'm 24. Graduated from college, live on my own, pay my bills, have a full-time job. You seem to be awfully worried about my parents. I can take care of myself just fine."

Just then another person sat down next to the man Y/n was trying to whittle away at. He poked his elbow at him, "Who's this?"

"Don't know. Someone who's about to go back to her table with her little girlfriends."

Biting her lip she traced the rim of her martini glass with her fingertip, keeping her eyes set on the handsome tattooed one, "Not even a smile. Just one? Please?"

"Like I already said, I'm way too old for you."

The other man leaned over and reached to tap Y/n's shoulder, "Hey. Forget about Harry, here. You can bring me home with you if you're looking for a daddy tonight."

She frowned and looked him up and down to asses. He was late 40s perhaps, wearing a local band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and a backward cap to make himself appear a little more youthful. "No thanks. You'd know if I was interested in you."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling at her retort. She was definitely too young but he liked her spunk.

"Now, Harry…" she said his name slowly as she leaned a little closer, "I've got your name thanks to your friend. Can I have a smile?"

"Why?" He stared down at her, the caress of his gaze felt infinite and she found her skin convecting in its wake. He might be hard to crack but this one would be worth it, she determined.

She sighed and slid her finger dangerously close to his wrist as he looked down at her nail and watched her trail it near his arm, "I just hoped to see you smile is all. Too handsome to have such a sour scowl on your face."

"And you're hardly old enough to be so confident to walk up to a strange man at a bar."

She laughed and tilted her head, "You planning on doing something bad to me, Harry?"

And that. That pulled a reaction out of him that spread over his features slowly as he shook his head in disbelief, "Darlin', you wouldn't be able to handle me."

Her eyes widened slightly. Now she was definitely not giving up. Y/n wasn't one to fail and Harry might be making her work hard for it but she couldn't imagine it wouldn't be worth it in the end.

"Is that a challenge or something?" She softly scraped her nail over his tattooed wrist and Harry watched her red nail work over his skin.

His resolve was fading fast. She could tell he wasn't going to keep denying her. And why should he? If he was single, which he appeared to be, what was the harm in having a little fun with someone younger? Y/n didn't mind. And he certainly shouldn't either.

"If it were a challenge you'd know it. Lots of other guys here, Y/n. Go enjoy your night with someone closer to your own age."

She sighed in annoyance. But he hadn't moved his arm away from her and she was going to take that as a sign.

Dragging the toe of her shoe into his shin she grinned, "I don't want to enjoy my night with someone my own age. Not tonight anyway. I think you've convinced me that I need to test out this theory of yours. That you think I can't handle you. Cause I bet I can."

With his eyes piercing into hers, he took another sip of his drink. She thought she might have just convinced him to give her a smile at the very least because it looked like he was weighing his options. And if she could get him to smile she might have luck with the rest.

He tilted his chin upward for a moment, eyes aimed at the ceiling like he was calling on a higher power for strength, "Go back to your friends, Y/n. Any other man here would love to have your company."

"But you wouldn't love to have my company?"

"I mean… I'm still here," the other man raised his hand and leaned into Harry, "Honey we could have so much fun. Any man who'd turn you down is either battin' for the other team or more likely," he chuckled and pushed his shoulder into Harry's teasingly, "He can't get it up anymore."

Y/n's mouth dropped open at that and Harry turned to look at the man. She wished she could see the look on his face, "Sit the fuck back down, John. She already told you she's not interested in you."

"Yeah, and you're not interested in her so what's it matter to you? Look at her, Harry. Practically begging you. Young and bubbly… Tight—"

Harry's hand covered John's throat as he pushed him away, nearly making his stool topple over, "Get the fuck outta here. You had too much whisky tonight."

"Aww… come on Harry… I was just jokin'!"

She watched as he stood from his stool and looked down at John, "And you thought that was funny? You like making jokes about women like that?"

The man put his hands up in surrender, "I'm out. Here…" he threw a wad of cash on the bar top before he moved past Harry and then looked at Y/n, "My apologies if I offended you."

They watched as John left the bar quickly and then Harry sat back down before he waved at the bartender and signaled for the check, "Just the one whisky neat."

"You're leaving already? Night's still young, Harry."

He sucked at his teeth as he scraped his gaze over her face and down to her cleavage. She smiled when she watched the path his eyes had taken.

The bartender handed him the bill and Harry leaned over to pull his wallet from his back pocket.

She scooted closer to him, "You headed home?"

He nodded, but not necessarily in answer to her question, it was more of an appraisal kind of nod. He was still silent as he pulled cash out of his wallet.

"Thanks for that, by the way. I'm sure John's a nice guy and all but he's not really my type. And I'm sure he was wrong about you."

That got his attention. Harry flicked his gaze back to hers, "Wrong about me?"

She smiled, "The part where he said you couldn't get it up. You're not that old. I'm sure you still can. Right?"

He clenched his jaw and breathed out of his nostrils like he couldn't believe she'd asked him such a thing. He handed the bartender his cash with a nod before he stood up from his stool.

"Huh. Since you're so quiet about it maybe he was right," she goaded, pressing her lips together to flatten her smile as she looked up at him through her lashes.

Harry placed a palm down on the bar top next to her hand and leaned over her, "You're out of your depth here, Y/n."

"Now, you don't really know that do you? Just because I'm younger than you doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing."

"You're awfully pushy. Not used to hearing no, are you?"

Y/n watched as the edge of his mouth lifted in amusement and she widened her eyes and pointed, "You're almost smiling."

He shook his head and looked around the bar before pinning his gaze back to hers, "I hope you enjoy the rest of your night. But your luck has run out with me, princess."

Harry stood to his full height and Y/n decided to try one last time, "So it's true then. What he said."

He stopped and turned to look back at her, a slow burning heat behind his gaze, "Couldn't be further from the truth."

She smiled and slid off her stool to stand in front of him. His height was impressive, "Prove it."

The line of his jaw hardened, turning his cheekbones into slashes of tension. His eyes simmered as he weighed his options. Finally, a hint of a smile stretched over his mouth. A small one, but still.

"I don't need to prove anything to silly little girls."

"Good thing I'm not a silly little girl. I'm a grown woman, Harry."

Y/n knew she was pushing it. She'd never needed to throw herself at any man before. But because of that, she wasn't used to rejection either. Maybe it was a good lesson for her ego. She knew her big fault was how entitled she could act sometimes. But that was partly thanks to how she was raised. It's better to act like a man to get what you want in life, her dad told her. And so far, that had been true. Some women balked at her confidence and her bold attitude. She wasn't demure or sweet enough. And men would often refer to her as a bitch or say that she was trying too hard.

She'd work on her ego another time. But right now? She was focused on winning this battle.

"What do you want with someone like me anyway? Hm? I'm old, Y/n. What's in it for you?"

Blinking her eyes she shook her head, "You're not old, first of all. Secondly, you're really attractive. It doesn't need to go much deeper than that, does it? I just think you're handsome. And I do kind of like a challenge."

"I can see that you like a challenge. It's the only reason I haven't walked out that door yet. Kind of relentless."

She smiled, "So it's working?"

Another half-smile worked its way up his mouth as he laughed in disbelief, "Are you surprised that it is?"

His pupils coasted over her figure and then back up to her face. The warmth of his gaze singed her skin like an open flame.

"I guess I just didn't know how difficult it'd be with you."

He licked his lips, "Difficult. You have no idea. But looks like you're about to find out. Go tell your friends what's going on. Meet me out front."

Y/n watched him turn and walk away. She was shocked. For a minute she thought he wasn't going to go for it at all.

Shaking off the sudden surprise of having gotten to him she settled up with the bartender and then stopped at the table with her friends. They were just about to give her condolences for having oversold her ability but she interrupted. "He's waiting for me outside. Location is on. Don't wait up!"

Harry was leaning against a black car in the parking lot when she stepped out of the doors. The moment he saw her he pushed himself off the car and opened the passenger door for her.

It was going to be tricky to maintain the kind of confidence she'd been feigning with him up until then but there was no part of her that didn't want to find out what he could show her.

She watched as Harry sat down in the driver's seat and started up his car. He took up too much space in the seat. His big hand wrapped around the leather steering wheel while his other encased the shift stick. Even the way he drove was turning her on.

She was pleased that she'd wormed her way under his skin and that he'd given in. She'd try her best to make it worth his while. Reaching across the console she put her hand on his thigh and he glanced down quickly before setting his gaze back on the road.

Now, Harry had slept with younger women a couple of times. He generally preferred someone closer to his age because he liked the confidence and experience that came with age. Women in their 20s were often in a different stage of life and that was fine –normal even, but it just usually wasn't a match for him. Not sexually and not mentally.

But Y/n was unusually confident for being so young. Persistent. He liked it, he couldn't lie. Whether or not she really had much else going for her beyond confidence, he guessed he'd find out. Well, she was very cute too. She did have that in her favor.

And Y/n at least seemed like she knew what she wanted. It was flattering as well. Being approached by such a pretty young thing. He figured the moment he told her to go back to her friends she'd give up but she was just fiery enough that she wasn't deterred.

When she ran her nail over his wrist he knew he was screwed. She was just close enough that he could smell her perfume and then she nudged her shoe into his shin and all he could think about was that she really wanted to be shown a good time and if anyone could it was him.

Harry knew his way around a woman's body. They were all different and he liked finding all the buttons and things that made them purr. In his experience, though, the younger the woman, the less she knew her own body. He didn't know if Y/n was just talking a big game but he was about to find out.

He stayed quiet as she ran her hand down his thigh and he shifted as the car accelerated past the green light. He'd see if she'd do anything with her hand but maybe she'd just pet at him like a novelty toy. He didn't expect—

"This is okay?" She asked him, her tone sultry as she palmed at his crotch.

He licked his lips, "Have at it."

His cock fattened up nicely with not much effort on her part. Proof that he definitely could get it up. Plucking at his button she looked from his face to her fingers as she leaned further over the console to reach her hand into his open pants to help him with the awkward angle of his dick. He seemed to appreciate that as he shifted under her palm.

Rubbing over his heather grey briefs she peeled down the elastic band the slightest to get a peek. The dark shade of pink on his tip matched the muted raspberry of his lips. She slid the pad of her middle finger over the slit and he softly inhaled through his teeth.

She wouldn't be able to give him roadhead like she wanted. It was impossible with the stick shift in the way. But she could wrap her fingers around his shaft and feel him under her palm until they got wherever they were going.

"Mmm… It's so big, Harry. Knew you would be. Might be the biggest I've seen in person. Can't tell yet, though. Have to wait to see when we've got these off."

Harry pushed a laughed breath through his nose. She was a bold thing. Her assertiveness was a turn-on. He didn't like meek and shy. Not when it came to sex.

When she spit into her palm and smeared it down his length, the best she could, he parted his lips and stepped on the gas. She was already exceeding any expectations he had for her. Maybe she'd prove him wrong.

Her nail scraped the underside of him and she moaned, "Really want it in my mouth."

He gulped harshly and ticked his jaw, "Just be patient. I'll let you put it in your mouth soon enough."

"And where are we going? Your place?"

He nodded, "Just a few minutes away."

She squeezed around him and pulled upward slowly. She knew already, he was well above average and she was going to have to work to give him a proper blowy.

His house was a one story, the driveway at the front with a garage attached. He lifted his hand and pushed on a device that was clinging to his sun visor and the garage door began to open. There was a covered motorcycle along the back wall and then the garage door closed after he shut off the engine.

She moved her hand away and unbuckled herself as he got out. When she reached down to pick up her little purse she realized her panties were already wet. She grinned as she stepped out, adjusting her dress before closing the door, and then followed behind him as he led her into a dark hallway.

When he turned on the lights she took it all in. Hardwood floors led into a dining area and then a kitchen. Hung on the walls were photos of himself with two children and then more framed photos with just the kids.

"Do you have kids?"

"I do. Boy and a girl. 7 and 10."

"You're not married are you?"

He laughed, "If I were you'd have known. Wouldn't have been out in the first place if I had a wife waiting for me at home."

She nodded as he turned on the kitchen light and pulled out two glasses before filling them with water.

"Divorced?"

Handing her a glass he squinted, "Yes."

She took a sip. He was a man of few words she'd gathered. She looked around the kitchen. Wood cabinets, an outdated laminate countertop, stainless steel appliances. The space could use some updating but it was large and he had a big pantry.

Sitting the glass down on the counter she watched him closely. His pants were still unbuttoned. She eyed the space at his crotch as he placed his own glass down next to hers.

"It's not gonna suck itself."

She laughed and looked up at him. He had a genuine smile on his face that time. The first real smile she'd seen from him all night. A healthy row of clean teeth, a dimple…

"Hmm… I think you're right. Let's see what we've got…"

She moved in front of him and placed her hands on his pants to push them away but before she could inch them down he wrapped his meaty hand around the back of her neck and drew her into his chest. His mouth was warm and soft. His tongue tasted like the whisky he'd been drinking.

Letting go of his pants she held onto his biceps as he used his free hand to push her hips against his. Still nice and hard. He ran his tongue over her lips and she moaned into his mouth. He worked his warm lips down to her jaw and then he licked upward on her neck, the wet patch was cool on her skin from the air in the kitchen. He did it again and her knees almost gave out. She hadn't been licked like that before.

He kissed over her clavicle and then drew his tongue over her flesh. Her heart was thrumming quickly and she squeezed his strong arms when he rutted against her.

"You good at sucking cock, Y/n?" He pushed his nose against her jawline and the hot breath from his words scattered over the skin on her neck.

"I want to be," she spoke breathlessly, eyes fluttering closed as he mawed at her throat.

He parted from her neck and looked down at her, half-lidded gaze and spit-slicked lips, "Go on."

Instantly she dropped to her knees as her fingers worked deftly at pulling his pants down and then his underwear. She'd sucked a handful of dicks so she knew a couple of moves.

Getting her hand around his thick shaft proved to be a small challenge. To say he was thick… understatement. Long too. His tip was smooth, mushroomed with ridges along the length that she hoped she'd get to feel later on. His was the kind of cock that women dreamed of.

Looking up at him she licked her palm and used her spit to pump him slowly. Another glob over his tip for good measure. Then she pressed a kiss to the base of him, just over his sac, and screwed her eyes upward to watch his expression as she licked his balls, one side at a time. She wound her tongue all around to wet him before sucking at one side, pulling it into her mouth and he let out a ragged breath, his dark pupils spreading inky until the soft green had almost vanished.

He liked it.

She worked around the other side, sucking him in again and swirling her tongue softly underneath the tender bits. He gripped the counter behind himself.

Pulling off she straightened her back and licked upward, feeling every delicious thick ridge along his shaft until her tongue met his smooth crown. Laving every crevice of his tip, she dipped her tongue into his slit and then ran it under the frenulum before she wetted every inch of his glans.

Her mouth was watering when she parted her lips around him and flitted her gaze upward. He was watching her with a slack jaw as she took him a little deeper. He cradled the back of her head and moaned.

"Just suck the tip…."

She blinked up at him and pulled her lips just over the lip, swirling and suckling around him like he wanted.

"Fuck. Just like that." His hand at the back of her head was easy. He didn't push or pull. It was more like a pleased gesture as his fingertips flexed around her skull gently.

Y/n would have liked to have gone deeper. Wanted to show him her best work. But he seemed rather happy with what she was doing.

She bobbed a couple of times, only to slide her lips back to his tip. Her pace was slow when she began to stroke his length with a little twisting motion.

He was big. She knew she could take more but in a way, she was grateful that that was all he was asking for.

A groan fell from his chest and he bucked forward, his cock slipping down her tongue and she sucked, drawing more of him in as she moved her hands away.

"Goddamnit, you're good."

She took that as permission to go deeper. Relaxing her jaw she closed her eyes and held her breath, pushing down to her limit. She filled her throat with his cock the best she could and gurgled around his tip.

He coughed out a moan and then thumbed at her cheek, "Alright, that's good."

She pulled off of him. His heavy cock aimed right at her face when she sat back on her knees and looked up at him, "I can do better than that."

He laughed and put his hand out for her to take, helping her stand up, "I bet you can. Come on."

Harry kept her hand in his as he led her to his bedroom. It was just past the dark living space and he turned on a floor lamp on the opposite side of the room from the bed. When he turned back toward her he cupped her face and kissed her again.

She pressed her hand into his warm, hard chest and he reached around the back of her dress to pull the zipper downward, his fingers dragging down her skin as he went. His touch sent a tremor down her spine as continued kissing her wetly.

He stepped back, helping her out of her dress until it fell to the floor. His eyes raked over her body and he smoothed his hands over her hips and up to her bra-covered breasts. He stepped in closer, walking her backward toward his bed. He put his hands back on her hips and nudged her to sit before he reached down to lift her leg up by her calf, removing her heels, one at a time.

Y/n's thong was drenched. She stared at him while he placed her shoes side by side at the foot of the bed and then he placed his big palms on her thighs, pushing her legs open, "Lie back."

She let her back hit the mattress as Harry got to his knees on the floor. An arm reached under her thigh as he spread her apart and then she felt her panties being pulled at until her her wet pusslips were right in his face. He groaned and felt a hand slide up the inside of her thigh. He pressed his mouth over her mons and looked up at her before he opened his mouth wide and drew his tongue through her crease making her gasp.

"Get your bra off."

She pushed herself up slightly and worked at the clasp of her bra between moans as Harry continued licking at her pussy. When she pulled her arm through the flimsy material he lifted his head and reached around her back, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed and he sucked a nipple into his mouth.

"Oh, fuck!"

Y/n's finger and her long nails pushed into Harry's hair and scraped at his scalp as he licked and pulled at each nipple. He buried his face between her tits and let out a low sound, like he was murmuring something to her but only her breasts were allowed to hear it.

When he sunk back down he pushed at her so she'd lie back and he started in on her clit, one hand holding her panties to the side as he devoured her glistening cunt.

She kept feeling like she was going to slide off the edge of the bed but Harry's grip on her kept her still. His tongue and his lips were magic as he drew her to her end. She yanked at his hair and babbled his name on repeat as her spine bowed off the bed when she came.

Her chest was still rising and falling heavy when she felt her body being pushed upward. She popped her eyes open and watched him roll a condom over his shaft before he kneed back up onto the bed next to her. He was stark naked. His body was insane. Thick muscle and masculine everything. Tattoos scatter over his arms and chest.

Fuck, she muttered under her breath.

"Flip over, for me," his deep voice was husky as he motioned toward her to move.

She rolled to her stomach and she felt his fingers slide between the band of her panties and her hips as he pulled them down her legs.

"Ass up a little. I want to see all of you, Y/n."

She grinned and turned to look at him over her shoulder as she lifted her hips and spread her thighs. His lips were parted as he grabbed her ass and squeezed, making her cheeks spread apart. He inhaled sharply through his teeth and then dipped in, kissing her pussy from behind before licking upward over her ass.

She squealed quietly and bit her lip, still watching him behind her as he lifted, a lopsided grin on his face. He gazed at her as he fisted the base of his cock and slid the head up and down her soaked folds before he tipped his hips to push in just the tip.

"Gorgeous. Gonna look even better wrapped around cock. You like anal?"

"Never tried it."

He licked his lips and pressed his lips together as he looked at the spot where his dick was pressed against her cunt, "Figured. S'alright. Pussy's my favorite anyway."

"We could try… if you want."

He looked back into her eyes, a cocky smile on his face, "Your little hole would need to be trained. And that takes time. So, there will be no anal tonight. Not gonna try and hurt you. But that's a cute thought."

He canted his hips inward, eyes on hers and her mouth dropped open when she felt her entrance splitting open for him. She was tight, but so slick, it only took a few slow thrusts until he was buried in with a low grunt. He pulled back and then pushed his entire length into the hilt.

"Fuck—fuck!" She cried and stuffed her face into the blankets.

"Too much?"

"No! It's so good. You're just so big…" She began to send her hips back against him and Harry slowly fucked in to match her pace. His eyes were everywhere. On her puss getting split open on his cock, the curve of her lower back, the swell of her ass.

He just knew she'd look so sweet with her ass stuffed too, but good things like that couldn't be rushed which was a shame.

Every thrust was gushy wet. Y/n bubbled out small moans every time his dick brushed deep into her guts. It was better than she imagined. The way he filled her to the brim was going to turn into an addiction. She'd never slept with any man that had her wanting seconds before they'd even finished.

"Oh my god…" she mewled into the comforter.

"Fuck, I know, baby…"

She fit him like a glove, it was perfect. He went in a little faster, balls thudding against her skin rhythmically making her bounce forward as she spread around his girth. When he ground in she arched her back deeply and let out a soft groan, her hands fisted at the blanket and Harry reached around and smeared his fingertips over her clit.

It had her panting and pushing into him feverishly. She'd needed the friction on her throbbing button and he'd found it easily, thick, rough fingerprints slicking back and forth as he rutted in and in. It sent electrical sparks over her limbs.

"Like that? Needs her clit touched? Shit baby, act like you've never been touched by a man right here before…" he plucked at her like he was playing the guitar and she began to fade, her moans getting caught in her chest.

He could feel her walls tightening around him as he drove in deep.

"Fuck, Harry— fuck!"

He grinned as he watched her shudder, "Give it up, Y/n. There you go…"

She began to pulse around him, a constant stream of nonsense falling from her lips as he stroked against her channel and pushed deep into her tummy, his fingers still working her clit with ease.

Just as her body had tipped and oxygen returned to her lungs he pulled out and she felt him taking her hips and turning her around to her back. Harry grabbed her ankles and lifted until each was settled over his shoulders and pushed back inside of her, cock drilling down to her core making her teeth chatter at the way he split her down the middle.

Harry leaned over her, cock buried deep as she watched her pretty face twist up with pleasure. Plapping into her, her tits wobbled as his balls tightened against his body. The harder he plunged in, the more her legs shook. Soon, her ankles had slipped down and her feet hit the mattress as he continued drilling into her. His face was flushed hot, lips parted, muscles tensed.

Reaching up to his neck she smoothed her fingers over his warm skin and he lowered his chest down to hers and kissed her. That filthy tongue ran over her lips and he sloppily sipped at her between sucking at her lips. Her brain had turned to jelly.

She felt his hand on her outer thigh squeezing and brushing as he fucked down into her. "Mmm… fuck, Y/n, m'gonna come…"

He trembled over her, thick thighs pressed down and flexed as he rutted in and in and in, and then… he stilled. A deep, guttural moan vibrated through his chest down into hers.

She sighed when she felt him throbbing, pumping into his condom. Her fingers caressed the muscles over his back and she gasped when he bucked in harshly, once more as he emptied the last of his come into the rubber wrapped around his cock.

He slowed his kisses until they were lazy little pecks and then he looked down at her, his chest heaving. She was already grinning up at him.

"What?"

She blinked her eyes, "That was fun."

He puffed out a breath, "I guess that's a good way to describe it."

Harry was a gentleman as he pulled out slowly and helped her off the bed and led her to his bathroom. He helped her clean up and listened to her tell him about her job —just reminding him that she was an adult after he commented on her being so young again.

When she picked her dress up off the floor and started to step into it, Harry frowned, "What are you doing?"

She stopped and raised her brows. "Getting dressed. Was gonna call an Uber. I'm sure you don't want a stranger in your house all night," she laughed.

Harry pulled at her hand, making her drop her dress, "What kind of men have you been hanging out with that let you leave in an Uber at 2 am? You'll stay here."

She opened her mouth and then closed it in surprise before tilting her head in confusion, "Really? I just assumed—"

"You'll stay the night here. There's no way in hell you're getting an Uber at this time of night. It's dangerous."

She grinned and shrugged, "Well then… can I have a shirt or something to sleep in?"

He placed his warm hands on her hips, "You can have a t-shirt if you like. I prefer to sleep naked myself."

"Oh yeah? I usually do too as a matter of fact."

He held her out in his arms and eyed her naked frame, "Looks like we're both good to go then. We'll get you sorted in the morning. I'll give you a ride home then."

"I think you just want to keep me here with you," she chuckled.

Harry shook his head and released her hips before he popped her on the bottom with his palm. She bleated out a laugh.

"Get your ass in bed before I change my mind."

"Yes, sir."

. .

→ PART 2 ←

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[flowersforbucky]

means i care

joaquín torres x reader

"You were dead, Joaquín. Your heart wasn't beating when I pulled you from that water."

He grins, taking your hand in his. He brings it to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Well, it’s beating now. Because of you. But what’s new? My heart always beats for you.”

word count: 3.3k

warnings/tags: friends to lovers, idiots in love, pining, enhanced!reader with energy manipulation powers, canon level injuries, some angst, fluff, no use of y/n, reader has she/her pronouns, pov switches

☆☆☆☆☆☆

“You know, if we don't succeed here, we'll be looking at World War III. I could use a little extra good luck. If you know what I'm sayin’.”

You shift your gaze from the Indian Ocean outside of the jet's window to the man sitting beside you. At first, you question whether or not you heard him correctly. Then, you see the sly smirk on his lips and the glimmer of mischief in his brown eyes and you realize that you had, in fact, heard him correctly.

If you had any doubt about what he meant by a little extra good luck, the look on his face makes it abundantly clear.

Your eyes flicker to his lips for a split-second before you look back out to the endless expanse of blue water surrounding you. God knows that if you stare at him for a moment too long, you might just be weak enough to give in.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve come dangerously close.

“Good luck, huh? I hope you’ve got a four-leaf clover or a rabbit’s foot stashed somewhere in that suit of yours, then.”

He laughs. The sound fills the jet and for a second, you forget where you are and what all is on the line.

“A thousand four-leaf clovers wouldn’t give me a fraction of the good luck that I’d get from a kis—”

“Landing in five!” Sam calls, effectively breaking the tension in the air. You doubt that it was intentional, but you’re thankful for the interruption nonetheless. As if the list of things on your mind isn’t already a mile long – the last thing you need to add to it right now is kissing Joaquín.

You should be used to it – the flirting and teasing. He hasn’t held back since the moment you met. First, you had assumed it’s just how he is – that he says the same things to any halfway decent looking girl in his age bracket.

Sam had insisted that’s not the case.

Still, past relationship trauma had left you unable to believe that he was being genuine –and unable to believe that any good could come from returning his flirtatious sentiments. Best case scenario, you hook up and relieve the tension that’s been brewing between you for months, things fizzle, and you have to continue to work together while attempting to ignore any awkwardness. Worst case scenario, you let yourself completely fall for him and someone inevitably gets hurt.

This line of work, this lifestyle – it doesn’t mesh well with romantic relationships. You’ve learned that lesson the hard way, a few times over.

So, despite the fact that you think he’s annoyingly attractive, you brush off the compliments and cheesy one-liners. You look for every excuse when he tries to spend time with you outside of work and missions, never letting yourself give in even when every fiber of your being is dying to do so.

Like right now. He sits beside you, his arm and thigh brushing against yours. Even through his thick, heavy gear, it sends a shiver up your spine. You resist the urge to grab his hand in yours and tell him that you and Sam have this handled if he wants to help from the sidelines.

You can hear his response as clear as day in your mind. “Keep to the sidelines? And let you and Sam have all the fun? Pshhh. You wish.”

You bite your tongue, afraid to let him know just how much you care. You might not let it show, but you’re more worried for his safety than you are your own.

There’s no chance of him staying on the base while you and Sam potentially risk your lives. But maybe you can at least give him an incentive to keep himself alive.

Joaquín starts to stand when you place a hand on his arm. He freezes, an almost hopeful expression on his face as he looks at you expectantly.

“Don’t die out there and we’ll see about that kiss. Okay?”

☆☆☆☆☆☆

“Are you listening to a word I say?”

Sam’s voice snaps you out of your trance. You blink rapidly, lubricating your eyes that had been locked on a beeping monitor for an embarrassing amount of time.

“No,” you answer honestly. You glance at him for a brief moment before your eyes are back on the sleeping body a few feet away from you. “Not really. Sorry. What did you say?”

He sighs. He’s trying his hardest to not let it show, but you know that he’s getting a little annoyed with you.

You can’t really find the energy to care. You’re a little annoyed with him, too. He won’t stop tapping his fucking foot against the linoleum floor and the whole room still smells like the Chinese take-out he’d eaten hours ago.

Your stomach growls. Maybe you’re just hangry.

“I said you need to go home,” Sam says in an even tone. “Get a few hours of sleep, take a shower. Eat something that didn’t come out of a vending machine.”

Over the last four days, you’ve spent more time in this hospital room than your own apartment. You’ve only left to go home long enough to shower every other day, and to get gas stations snacks and coffee on occasion. The longest you’d been away from Joaquín’s bedside was yesterday morning, when you went to the Target down the road to put together a get well soon basket for when he wakes up.

Most guests would be asked to leave after standard visiting hours, but you suppose working with Captain America does come with some perks. You suppose it also helps that you were the one who pulled Joaquín from the ocean, flew him to safety, and restarted his heart with your powers while you waited on the emergency medical team to get to you on Celestial Island.

Maybe the hospital staff pities or – or maybe they’re a little scared of you. Either is fine, as long as you aren’t asked to leave for an extended period of time.

You’re hungry, and you need to shower, and a few hours of sleep in an actual bed certainly wouldn’t hurt. But the thought of not being here when he wakes up…

“I’ll call you,” Sam says, as if reading your mind. “I swear. As soon as he wakes up, I’ll let you know.”

You don’t trust your voice enough to speak, so you just nod. You’ve somehow managed to refrain from crying up until this point, but you’re running on a few hours of sleep and it’s starting to get to you.

Despite the various wounds and bruising across his body, he looks peaceful in his sleep. His chest rises and falls with steady breaths, and you feel yourself relax at the visual reminder that he’s okay. He’s resting, and healing, and he’ll wake when his body is ready.

“Okay,” you whisper as you stand up from the scratchy, old recliner that you have been glued to for the majority of the last few days. “You call me as soon as he opens his eyes.”

Before leaving, you walk to the side of his bed. On the table next to him sits a vase of wildflowers that have already started to wilt, and the basket that you had brought, full of some of his favorite things – beef jerky, Takis, gummy bears – as well as a few personal care items that may be of use for the duration of his hospital stay after waking up – deodorant, a toothbrush and travel sized toothpaste, and the biggest stainless steel tumbler that you could find.

In the middle of the basket sits a small, plush falcon. You hadn’t even been looking for it when it caught your eye in the store, but you immediately knew you had to get it for him. Seeing it had felt like a sign that everything is going to be okay.

You remove the stuffed bird from the basket and tuck it between his side and his arm before leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to the center of his forehead. It’s the first time you’ve touched him since the accident, and you’re reluctant to pull away.

Your eyes sting with all of the emotions that you’ve been holding inside for days. You don’t look back at Sam or say another word as you walk out of the room, hoping with everything in you that the next time you walk into this room, he greets you with one of his obnoxiously perfect smiles and a corny pick-up line.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

The first thing Joaquín hears is the low, repetitive beeping of a monitor. When he opens his eyes, he’s momentarily blinded by violent, early morning sunlight creeping through the blind slats.

“Well, well, well. How nice of you to decide to join the living today, Sleeping Beauty.”

He recognizes Sam’s voice a second before he sees him. Slumped in a chair in the corner of the room, he looks like he could use some sleep, himself.

All at once, images of the moments leading up to him plummeting into the ocean come flooding back. He remembers Sam yelling at him to back off from the last missile, the missile firing right at him, and then nose-diving into the ocean as you shriek his name.

You.

His eyes dart around the room in a panic, looking for any sign of you. His heartrate spikes on the monitor. Sam jumps up, rushing over to his side.

“What – where is she – is she okay?”

God, his throat is painfully dry. How long has he been unconscious?

“Easy, easy,” Sam soothes as he takes a seat at the foot of the hospital bed. “She is fine. She was unharmed and has hardly left your side in five days. It was like pulling teeth just to convince her to go home for the night. Made me promise to call her the second you woke up.”

At first, he assumes Sam is just messing with him. You have hardly left his side? You, the same person who has rejected every one of his advances for nearly a year?

“You’re being serious? She’s been here?” He asks in disbelief.

“Oh, yeah,” Sam exhales. “She’s been a mess, man. I don’t know how much you remember, but…” He trails off, avoiding Joaquín’s gaze.

“She’s the one who pulled you from that water. By the time she flew you somewhere safe, you weren’t breathing. She had to restart your heart with her powers until the medical team got to you.”

He can tell by Sam’s demeanor that he isn’t joking around, but he still struggles to wrap his head around it all. He had fucking died? His heart stopped, and you’re the reason that he’s alive? And you stayed with him while he’s been recovering?

Then, he remembers the last words you said to him before arriving on Celestial Island.

Don’t die out there and we’ll see about that kiss. Okay?

He isn’t sure if you really spoke those words, or if it’s some false memory that his subconscious conjured to keep him holding on while on the brink of death.

If it’s the latter, it worked. If it’s the former, and you really did say that, he supposes that offer is probably off the table since he technically did die.

Damn it.

Joaquín attempts to sit up and becomes aware of two things at once – he feels like he has been repeatedly ran over by a bus, and there's something fuzzy tickling his arm.

“What the hell…”

He picks up the small, stuffed falcon and can’t help but smile at it. “You shouldn’t have,” he chuckles, tossing the bird at Sam.

He catches it, smirking. “Oh, I didn’t.”

Sam gestures towards the table beside Joaquín. He follows his gaze, noticing the dying flowers and basket stuffed full of various snacks and self-care items. Whoever chose the contents of the basket, knows him well. He could live off of beef jerky if he had to, and gummy bears are his favorite.

“Who..?” Joaquín asks, trying not to get his hopes up that it could be from the person he most wants it to be from – the person who apparently saved his life.

“Take a guess,” Sam jabs as he tosses the stuffed animal back to Joaquín.

For a second, he thinks his heart just might stop again. He pictures you picking out the items and he has to shake his head to keep himself from grinning too big.

“Man, if I knew that all I had to do was die to get her attention, I would’ve done it a hell of a lot sooner.”

Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Just don’t go making a habit of it, okay? I don’t know if she would forgive you if you did it again.”

Sam then pulls out his cell phone, excusing himself from the room to give you a call and to get Joaquin’s nurse. Once he’s alone, Joaquín fights against all of the stiffness in his body to reach for the basket sitting on the bedside table. In addition to all of the other goodies, there’s a card tucked between a stick of Old Spice deodorant and a bag of Takis.

It isn’t in an envelope. He instantly snorts at the image on the front of the card – it’s a cartoon dog wearing a cone collar with a dejected expression. In bold print, it reads: At least you don’t have to wear a cone.

He opens the card, and immediately recognizes your handwriting.

I specifically remember asking you to not die. Guess you were right about that good luck kiss, after all. I'll remember that next time.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

The simultaneous dread and relief that you feel when you see Sam’s name pop up on your phone can’t be described in words. Dread at the mere possibility of bad news. Relief that it could be what you’ve been hoping to hear for days.

As soon as you hear him say that Joaquín is awake, you’re jumping out of bed at the ass crack of dawn. You don’t think about taking the time to eat any breakfast or even make yourself a cup of coffee – you just throw on some clean clothes, brush your teeth, and you’re out the door.

The short drive to the hospital is spent talking to yourself about what you're even going to say to him. How are things supposed to just go back to normal between the two of after something like this? After it felt like your heart stopped when his did? Do you even want things to go back to normal?

You knew you’d feel relieved to see him awake, but you don’t expect the overwhelming rush of emotions that comes over you as soon as you hear his voice murmur your name.

He's sitting up in his bed, holding the stuffed falcon that you’d given him and smiling at you like you hung the moon and stars as soon as you walk through the door.

That’s when you know the answer to your question – no, you don’t want things to go back to normal between you. With the way that you feel your heart in your throat, you don't think that’s a possibility, anyway.

“This little guy was a nice surprise to wake up to, you know. Kind of wish it had been you, but he’s cute, too.”

You no longer attempt to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill over for the last five days. You sit on the edge of his bed, directly beside his thigh and meagerly wipe the teardrops that leak down both of your cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” His demeanor completely shifts when he realizes that you’re crying. He leans in closer and pulls you to him. You sob against his chest, and he runs a large hand up and down your back. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here. It's gonna take more than a missile or two to take me out.”

You nod against his chest, but don’t pull away. He continues to massage your back as you attempt to calm down, focusing on the feeling of him against you. When you finally lean back, he wipes a lingering tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“You were dead, Joaquín. Your heart wasn’t beating when I pulled you from that water.”

He grins, taking your hand in his. He brings it to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Well, it’s beating now. Because of you. But what’s new? My heart always beats for you.”

You exhale, finally letting yourself return his cheeky grin. The teasing remark makes you feel the happiest you have in days.

“Leave it to you to find a way to flirt when we are having a conversation about your death.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, his expression suddenly turning more serious. “I do have a question, though.”

You tilt your head in curiosity.

“When you brought me back to life, was it like a mouth to mouth type thing? Or..?”

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving him back against his pillows. He cackles, his cheeks turning pink. He pulls you back to him, this time even closer than before. You can smell mint on his breath from the toothpaste you’d put in his get well soon basket.

“No. Thought I’d save that for when you’re awake.”

He places his hands on your sides, the light touches sending a thrill through you. The normally chilly hospital room suddenly feels a whole lot warmer.

“Are you sure?” He murmurs. “I don’t want you to think that you.. owe me anything, or have to kiss me just because of what happened—”

You’re shaking your head before he finishes speaking.

“Joaquín,” you interrupt him softly. “I’ve been stupid. So, so stupid and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that it took something like this for me to open my eyes to what’s been right in front of me this whole time. I knew that if I let myself want more, if I let myself give in, that’d be it for me. And that terrified me. But I don’t care anymore. I’m more terrified of never getting the chance to—”

Suddenly, his hands move from your hips to either side of your face. He pulls you the remainder of the short distance to him, and then his lips are against yours; effectively ending your rambling.

One of your hands cups the nape of his neck, your fingers intertwined in his soft curls. His tongue ghosts along your bottom lip and you eagerly part them for him. The sounds from various machines and the voices out in the hallway all fade to white noise as he moves his lips with yours.

He's gentle. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s still relatively bedridden, but he touches you like he’s touching fine, breakable China. There’s an underlying urgency, like he’s scared he’s dreaming and wants to savor this as much as possible before he opens his eyes.

You pull away with a gentle tug of his bottom lip between your teeth. He doesn’t drop his hands from caressing your face, and your rest your forehead against his, basking in the afterglow of a kiss long overdue.

“Damn,” he breathes. “Please tell me we can do that again, minus all of the months of rejection and the close call with death.”

You laugh. “I can promise you no more rejection, but you have to promise me no more close calls with death.”

A gentle stroke of his thumb across your cheekbone sends goosebumps down your spine. “I promise, mi vida. I’ve been waiting too long for this. There’s no getting rid of me now.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆

mi vida: spanish for "my life"

thank you so much for reading!!! as always, comments and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

[jjjjisun]

All Because Of A Nap

Tzuyu X Male Reader | 20039 words

TW: Incest

—

It wasn't something I planned. I'd swear that to myself later, again and again. When I look back, it wasn't as if I should have anticipated it all along. It just... happened. Okay, part of it, a large part of it, was my doing but I swear she started it. My head is still all mixed up about exactly how we got here. I guess I'll just start from the beginning.

My little sister Tzuyu was cute, hot even. Sure I've occasionally gotten excited upon seeing her scantily clad about the house, but we were truly normal siblings. Tzuyu and I fought, played, loved and hated each other the way most brothers and sisters do. She had her friends; I had mine. Sometimes we saw each other out on a Friday or Saturday night, but other than to try and hit on her friends, I pretty much stayed out of the way. It wasn't one sided either, as I had to deal with friends hitting on my little sis too.

Admittedly, she was the best looking of her friends, many of which I tried and occasionally succeeded in taking home with me. So, I just sucked it up and accepted that people were going to gawk at her wherever she went, even if she was my little sister and they were my own damned buddies.

Tzuyu was eighteen - pretty young for already having her first semester under her belt in college. She was on the volleyball team, had a steady boyfriend, and seemed to be popular in her circles. She was a pretty confident and independent girl, but I still looked out for her whenever she needed it. She had a fake ID too, and that combined with her 110 lbs. or so and inexperience with alcohol established the watchful eye I kept on her.

Like I said, she was cute. She had warm brown hair that she wore in all kinds of ways; I thought it looked best in a ponytail. Her body was athletic, but she had amazing, shapely breasts that looked like a fun handful to play with. She was almost 5'-7," and toned every inch of it - most volleyball girls were. It wasn't like I'd been fixated on her young body, but the uniforms volleyball players wore, with the tight little shorts and tops... I couldn't help but notice how enticing she'd become. Her adorable smile and deep blue eyes were just the cherry on top; I admired them often growing up.

Sure, being raised under the same roof we'd caught each other changing or coming out of the shower once or twice. Tzuyu had definitely been the first girl whose pussy I'd seen. There was that one time when I'd accidentally walked into her room while she was bottomless and bending over to pull on that damned uniform. I learned quickly that not all of them were so small and hidden between puffy little lips the way hers was...though I wished they were.

I imagine mine were the first male parts Tzuyu had seen. I was admittedly proud to see her reaction and glad she caught me soon after waking up when my morning wood had just begun to fade. Hey, that she was my sister doesn't mean I minded her seeing me at decent size; I thought maybe she'd even tell one of her friends. Then again, who was I kidding, the last thing I was going to do is tell my buddies that Tzuyu's was as perfect and sexy as they all thought she would be when naked.

All of this might make it sound like I had the hots for my sister, but I swear I did everything a brother could to not to make her an object of my fantasies. Living with such a hottie I didn't always succeed, but I did my best. I simply hoped that I got a shot with a girl as attractive;- Tzuyu definitely set the bar high.

And then, in one fateful moment things just... unraveled.

------

It was a pretty standard routine for us. Every couple of weeks when Tzuyu and I got antsy, or it was a holiday like this time, we'd make the long drive home. I did most of the driving and the little princess slept when it suited her. We made good time on this trip home for the semester break but I was still beat when we got back and needed to sleep of the road's monotony.

I was minding my business, taking a nap, when I found myself lying next to my little sister in her bed. I'd simply gone in there to lie down after a long drive home, no other reason. Her bedroom was closer than mine and always colder - far better for a much needed nap. Fuck if I was going to walk twenty more steps to my door. She must have wanted the same thing and came in later after chatting with our parents downstairs.

It wasn't uncommon, but ultimately my laziness had caused a small problem. As usual whenever I wake up, I had a rock hard erection. And with a pretty, slumbering teenager asleep next to me in her bed, my mind was soon racing with thoughts of taboo and risk. I hadn't intended it, I just couldn't prohibit my mind from putting two and two together: my arousal and my hot little sister.

My eyes wandered; I needed to 'examine the situation'. The covers were pulled over her so I couldn't see what she was wearing, but she was cuddled close enough that I could feel her bare legs against mine. She must have taken her jeans off and gotten in bed with me after I'd fallen asleep. Her hair was pushed back and I could see that second piercing on top of her ear I always liked.

'Oh no,' I thought. 'Please tell me she's asleep and has no idea.' It wouldn't have worried me if Tzuyu hadn't snuggled up so close. My erection was dangerously close to my eighteen-year-old sister and I would die if I had to explain myself because she woke up. It was likely a total accident, but I didn't know what to do; any movement could stir her awake and who knew what she might think or say.

My cock betrayed me. I heard her slow breathing, I felt her warm skin, and my hardness swelled with want that hadn't even consulted my conscious brain. It nudged against her butt, poking directly into a tender cheek. I held my breath, hoping...praying that she hadn't woken up. When I thought the coast was clear I lifted my hips and slid backward as slowly as possible, doing my best not to shake the bed or call any more attention to the forbidden contact I was making with Tzuyu's ass.

I settled about half a foot backward on the bed, listening to my little sister breathe and thinking I might have avoided a very awkward situation. Just after I came to rest, I heard a loud creak from her bed. I cursed inwardly, thinking I was done for. At least I wasn't still poking into her with an erection she could easily take the wrong way.

It was then I realized I was mistaken. It was my little sister that had caused the sound as she'd rolled my direction, bringing her hand behind her to the place where I'd touched her. And she didn't take my hard cock the wrong way, she took it in her hand. Without saying a word she wrapped her fingers around it over my thin athletic shorts.

I didn't just roll her over and fuck her or something. No way, this was my little sis and it could be a total accident that she had me in her hand. She might even have been asleep.

She simply stayed still with her fingers wrapped fully around me. It seemed like she was testing me, seeing if I would be the first to pull away. I didn't move an inch, but again my hardness gave me away. It throbbed in Tzuyu's hand, telling her how good it was to feel her holding on to her brother's cock. She maneuvered her palm to my head, extending all of her fingers and then closing them down over my shaft before drawing away and stimulating my tip wonderfully.

At first I'd wanted to believe that she was sleeping. Surely my little sis had just grabbed for something in her slumber and I just happened to be in the right place. But after a moment or so, I could feel her fingers searching and stroking. She was sliding her hand up and down the length of my shaft. People don't just do that; I knew Tzuyu had to be awake and touching me purposefully.

Even through my shorts I couldn't help but growl in approval. I didn't know what had gotten into her, but Tzuyu's hand felt so good I couldn't fathom stopping her. Did she suddenly decide she wanted to fool around with me? Was it a problem with her boyfriend? What could make her act this way with seemingly no warning? All those thoughts crowded my mind, still planted firmly in her hand.

And she didn't stop there either. I laid there anxiously as Tzuyu put her hand on my abdomen, both of us knowing what she intended to do.

Her fingers halted. The pause was long enough to make we wonder if the naughty eighteen-year-old had changed her mind or realized what she was doing. I was nervous and yet craving my sister's touch again.

I had been looking at the back of her head, with hair behind her delicate ear, and I watched as she slowly turned toward me. She looked directly into my eyes. I knew there hadn't been a mistake; she knew exactly what she was doing. I knew it better when she slid her fingers under my waistband and once again brought them to my now bare member. Her eyes were locked into mine the whole time.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't fathom what I had done to deserve my beautiful little sister's daring hand stroking me as she began to move it up and down. I tried so hard to hold her gaze but once or twice my eyes rolled in response to a strong grasp of my sister's soft palm.

Maybe I should have questioned her. Maybe I should have asked if something was wrong and she was acting out. The doubts crossed my mind for one last second when I watched my little sister do something entirely new.

Still staring into my eyes, she brought her hand out of my pants and quickly pulled my waistband down and over my bulging cock. Then, with a kind of mischievous confidence, she brought her hand to her mouth and licked a path up her palm before sinking two fingers at a time past her wet lips.

I was speechless - as I had been the entire time. I was seeing the hottest girl I knew do the sexiest thing I'd ever witnessed, awestruck as she lowered her hand back to my painfully hard staff.

Her hand slid easily over my shaft before she paid incredible attention to my sensitive tip. My hips thrust involuntarily toward her, and I finally saw Tzuyu crack a grin in pride. She rewarded me with a quickened pace, slipping her hand over my head and all the way down my shaft over and over again. Too soon I felt I was going to cum.

I reached out for her body. I simply had to feel her, to get my hands on her soft breasts or that toned midsection I'd seen too many times before. Now was my chance, the way I was spooning her gave me plenty of access to her perfect little body.

With her hand back the way it was, her chest was poised proudly for my admiration. I started with my hand on her thigh before guiding it up over the gentle curve of her hip. I was careful not to go under her shirt as I neared her ribcage, not wanting to push my luck. It was a thin cotton top, with a small spaghetti strap I could see just above the covers on her smooth, tanned shoulder.

Tzuyu purred quietly when I grasped her tit in my hand. They'd always looked so soft and squeezable and now I had proof as I cupped it carefully. Where before I hadn't even allowed the thought of feeling up my little sister beyond a quiet daydream, now that I had her, I couldn't get enough. I wanted to run my hands over every inch of her, and soon I worked my fingers under the hem of her shirt.

She didn't protest as I daringly climbed higher, feeling the bottom of her ribcage again, this time without the shirt atop it. She inhaled deeply when my fingers finally reached her breast, and I took her nipple quickly in between my thumb and forefinger. Pinching it, I heard my little sister moan. Grasping her, I felt her hips writhe beneath the covers. I pushed her shirt up swiftly and threw the covers off of us in one motion, I wanted to see her.

All this while, we hadn't said a word, and she kept stroking me below. Her head was still turned in my direction and her eyes held mine,, though occasionally we broke when pleasure got the better of us. With the blankets thrown off, I gazed down at my sister's beautiful frame. Her shirt was bunched above her breasts where I'd shoved it, and our hips had drawn closer. Now and again I could feel my tip brush against her bottoms, sending a shiver up my spine.

I continued massaging her breasts and midsection, and the look in her eyes told me she loved it. Tzuyu licked her hand a second time to wet it and once again placed it on my cock. Watching her hand descend my eyes stopped on her underwear - a wide pink band of lace wrapped around her cute hips and butt with a strip of white between her legs connecting and covering what I knew would be a tight little pussy.

The thought inspired me, I wanted to know what it would feel like if I got my fingers to Tzuyu's mound. Was she enjoying this as much as me? Would she be warm and wet like I imagined? I motioned toward my sister's panty line with the hand that had been playing with her tits, hearing her sigh regrettably that I'd left them alone.

As soon as my fingers brushed the band of pink lace around her hips, Tzuyu reached for the bottoms and pushed them down around her pert butt. As she shimmied to remove them, my head contacted dangerously close to her most forbidden place which I had yet to touch. Her willingness to take off her panties both excited and confused me, almost as much as the gentle prod to the gap between her thighs.

I was eager, I couldn't help it. I grasped her hips and thrust forward. I don't know what I was thinking. The haste at which we'd stepped into this exciting and yet frightening bout of incest had me doing before considering any kind of consequences.

Tzuyu flinched when she felt my cock between her legs. I was spooning her perfectly so if I played my cards right I could soon be fucking my little sister. Minutes ago the thought would have made me chastise myself back to reality, but now that I had the chance I wanted nothing more than to take it. I shoved my hips against Tzuyu's backside. She reached back quickly and held me off.

"Nuhh uhhh," she huffed, freezing me in place.

I wanted to so badly, my little sister was right there for the taking. Seeing her body laid out on the bed, her full tits holding in place and her abs flexing as she ground her hips against me - I wanted to simply pin her against the bed and push into her quim where my member lingered so frighteningly close.

But it was those hips and her beautifully soft butt gyrating against me that caused me to reconsider. She was trying hard to make it pleasurable for me despite being unwilling to go further.; Tzuyu was a good girl and would not tease her brother without reward, apparently.

I was close now, and though disappointed I would not be able to take Tzuyu's inner temperature with my own pulsing hot shaft, when I felt her hips rolling impressively around my cock, my regret subsided. I leaned toward my hot little teen sibling, and she back toward me.

At first I let Tzuyu continue to rotate her hips around so my cock slid beneath her lips without my moving a muscle. I had my answer to my baby sister's arousal, she was so wet I could hear the slick sound of our act below. Eventually I began to return her efforts with thrusts of my own. I was holding on to her hip and forcing my pulsing staff between her legs.

It was obvious I was doing right by Tzuyu as well, because within a moment or two her breaths were labored and quiet moans escaped her mouth between them. Each time I pushed against her, I sensed my cock rubbing her clit. She was completely bare and smooth. Her skin was soft and silky the way an eighteen-year-old's should be.

I reached my hand down between her legs from the front, wanting to bring her to an orgasm as I was so desperately near mine. I quickly found her clit, pressuring it while continuing to thrust between her legs. I think it was too much for her, like the building sensation and taboo were more than she was prepared to handle because her hand shot to mine after only a few pushes against her button.

She stopped my hand, but she was unable to stop my hips. I couldn't help grunting with each thrust between my teenage sister's gap, and Tzuyu was beyond trying to conceal her enjoyment so she was moaning and gasping louder now. I worried our parents would hear; they were probably in the kitchen getting dinner ready and not far enough to be so careless. But none of that was enough to stop chasing our climaxes.

I hadn't had a chance to think about what we were doing. One thing had simply led to another and I knew that I was willingly along for the ride. Tzuyu had started it, surely, but I wanted her badly and with my hands holding her tight I wasn't going to let go until we had both finished. I loved Tzuyu so much, and what we were doing was crazy and impulsive and wrong, but I didn't care. As I slid my cock between her thighs the only thought I had was if I would get the chance to fuck my incredibly hot little sister. Tzuyu had unlocked me, for now, into unleashed desire for her and realization that she was every bit as beautiful and seductive as my buddies said. I'd always known but I'd buried it deep, until now when she was naked in bed with me and unthinkably approving of the way my cock was gliding between her legs.

Her hand started to encourage mine in circles over her clit again, and once or twice my head took a slightly different angle, just barely prying her lips apart and threatening entry. I think it got Tzuyu even hotter because of it.

Then, suddenly she was shaking. Her hand was clenched around mine and forcing it roughly against her mound. I watched as my little sister turned to muffle herself against the bed.

"Oh fuck fuck fuck... " she said into the pillow. It was too much for me.

I felt the familiar feeling of semen rising from deep inside of me. Withdrawing so my head was just within the diamond shaped opening between her thighs I spurted out what would be an incredible amount of cum onto my little sister. Still I urged my cock between, not wanting to let the wonderful feeling of her legs hugging me go away.

She was a mess, quivering and panting while I coated her with my forbidden sperm all over the place a brother was never supposed to see, let alone touch. When it was all done, and I could feel she had ridden out her orgasm, I began to take in my surroundings.

What we just did, whatever it was, had to have been as erotic a scene as I would ever experience. Tzuyu, my little sister, lay there with her shirt bunched up and panties around one ankle. She looked beautiful with a light sheen of sweat and that incredible chest of hers still rising and falling with each panting breath. And Tzuyu's tiny opening was utterly smeared with the result of our "nap."

After all, that was how it had all begun. An innocent nap on my sister's bed had ended with me pumping generously all over her young mound. God it was so wrong and simultaneously so unfathomably hot:: her little pink pussy coated in my cum and the way she was purring because of it. I desperately needed to know what she was thought of it all.

She finally turned toward me, surveying my emotions, and with raise of an eyebrow and a sideways little glance, I knew she was with me. What had happened, whatever it was, was okay with both of us. In fact I was still hard and I had not even gotten the chance to make love to my baby sister. Where it hadn't been before, now all I could think about was fucking Tzuyu, making her athletic little body squirm ... and soon.

It didn't seem she was going to allow it. She rolled off the bed and stood up from it gracefully.

"Wh...where are you going...?"

She looked at me curiously from above.

"Well..." she said, reaching for her shirt and pulling it up over her head right in front of me. "I have my brother's cum all over my pussy, and I'm not on any birth control right now soooo... I should probably take a shower and wash it off."

I was stunned... I had been the entire time. Looking at my naked little sister and admiring the body I'd just had my hands all over, I still couldn't believe what we'd just done. She looked down at the mess we had made and I did too. She was right, there was gleaming white spunk all over her and her inner thighs were shining with her own fluids as well.

As she turned to walk toward the bathroom I called after her,

"Waitt... Tzuyu... I..." but I couldn't say any more. My brain was spinning in circles and whatever I'd thought to tell her was gone.

"Oh shush," she said casually, "We were just having a bit of fun. Thanks for making me cum by the way Oppa!"

With that, she smiled and closed the door to the bathroom behind her. I wondered if she meant for me to follow her in, but I heard the door lock instead.

All I could think was... 'what...the...fuck...just happened?'

My mind may have been racing, but as I heard the shower running I kept envisioning one thing definitively: Tzuyu's naked little body pelted with warm streams of water. I imagined her nipples were hard and she was slowly washing away our sticky remnants from between her legs. I laid there for a few more moments before slowly pulling myself up, putting my shorts back on and going to my own room to shower as well.

It was all I thought about. In the shower...later at the dinner table with our parents... as we sat and watched TV... Tzuyu didn't show anything that might give us away. Before she had come into the room there had been no indication we would be fooling around any time soon, and as I looked at her, totally casual in a tight tank top showing her stomach and grey sweatpants beneath, I believed for a moment nothing had changed.

'Fuck,' I thought, creating a scene in my head where I tore her clothes off and ravished her on the couch with no regard for our parents sitting there. I was just to the part where I had pulled her pants and underwear down at once and was about to finally line up and...

"I'm gonna go to bed," Tzuyu announced to us. My mom and dad said goodnight, and I mumbled the same. As my sister walked by I watched closely. She smiled at me and raised her eyebrows. That look... it was as if everything Tzuyu did turned me on. Did she want me to follow her? Maybe I would get to have another go with her after all.

Watching her saunter off, I decided I would wait an appropriate amount of time before heading upstairs after her. I was a man possessed. My hot sister had given me a little and I wanted it all. And I'm not selfish, she looked so cute as she was cumming in my arms earlier that I absolutely wanted to see it again. I would kiss her and lick her, worship her, for hours if that's what it took, especially if it meant I could sink into her afterwards and fuck her tiny pussy until she screamed.

I reached her door, mouth watering, and seeing it open I walked near to look inside. She was in the bathroom, and when she came out she was wearing a t-shirt that just barely covered her bottom and concealed her tantalizing parts beneath. She saw me in the doorway, frozen once again, and walked toward me purposefully.

I was leaning in to the room when she reached the door, and she outstretched a hand to my chest. Cocking her hips to the side she addressed me,

"So... you're here for more or something?" she said with attitude.

"I...I..." I stammered. I was usually never at a loss for words, but Tzuyu had me.

"Look, I'm not sorry about what happened today..." she paused, "but it doesn't mean you can just come up here and expect to get in bed with me."

I didn't have an answer for her. That was exactly what I had come upstairs for.

"Mom and Dad are right downstairs, they'll be up to say goodnight soon... or didn't you think about that?"

Nope, I hadn't considered that either. Tzuyu read the answer on my face and giggled, which made me feel only slightly better. She smiled at me; I couldn't help but look disappointed which obviously entertained her. I was hard, rock solid, and I desperately wanted to get in bed and play with her.

She used the hand that she'd placed on my chest and pushed me out of the way of the door. Slowly shutting it she looked down before it finally closed, seeing the tent in my pants and then back up at me.

"It's pretty big... by the way... That's why I wanted to feel it. Goodnight OPPA." She spoke with a smirk, and shut the door.

Again - 'what... the... fuck...is going on here,' I said to myself. I felt cheated, and horny, and desiring my little sister more than ever now that she'd denied me. I limped back to my room with a hurt pride and a throbbing problem. All I wanted was to feel Tzuyu's tiny hand wrapped around my shaft again and she'd unfalteringly told me no. I hated being so helpless.

I must have gotten myself off three times that night thinking of her. I knew it was wrong, but I was past the point of caring. I was merely worried that I'd never get my hands on her perfect breasts or feel that pert little ass of Tzuyu's rubbing up against me again. I schemed ways I would be able to get her alone in the next few days.

And then... nothing.

None of my schemes were possible the next day, I only saw Tzuyu for a moment or two and she locked her door that night. It was Tuesday night that we'd woken up together and by Saturday I still hadn't gotten more than a moment or two alone with her. I prayed that she was just biding her time, and when we were together she was normal as can be - which meant cute, bubbly and talkative as she always was with me. I don't know how I hadn't been drawn to her like this before...

I'd never felt doubt and uncertainty like I did in those few days. Did Tzuyu know the effect she was having on me? She would avert her eyes if they met mine for too long, but then she'd brush by me and touch my arm as we did dishes in the kitchen after dinner. She smiled affectionately and laid down next to me on the couch with her long legs across my lap on Friday and Saturday morning, but with my parents there I didn't dare touch.

She must have known. I concluded that Tzuyu was playing hard-to-get perfectly, but even believing that didn't cause me to want her less. By the time our family had come over on Saturday afternoon for our little cousin Ren's birthday party and a sort-of family reunion, I was so confused I had trouble focusing on anything.

'Oh... My... God..." I thought as I watched Tzuyu step out onto the deck to help prepare for the gathering. She looked so amazing in her bathing suit that I practically fell in the pool instead of skimming it.

It was dark blue... wonderfully simple, and yet fit so well it looked like it was made for her. On each hip there was a gold hoop connecting the bottoms, and one atop both triangles over her tits. The bikini top held her breasts snugly in place, with enough skin showing to remind me just how ample they'd been in my hands. When she ambled down the steps both wonderful globes jiggled in place. And finally, her beautiful face glowed tan, with a hint of makeup and framed by brown hair which was full, tussled and wavy.

Part of it was my recent decision to let my eyes wander and mind free to dream up all of the things I wanted to do to her. But mostly, I think Tzuyu had finally become the absolute beauty I always knew she'd be growing up. At eighteen, I don't think she could have gotten any hotter than she was walking around in that snug two-piece, and if not I was in trouble. I tried so hard not to stare, but I knew she saw me. As my little sister approached me she blushed, and I quickly looked down like I hadn't been undressing her with my eyes.

"Do you need help?" She asked sweetly. Girls that looked the way Tzuyu did weren't supposed to be so kind or loving. It would have made things easier for me at least.

I flicked my eyes up at her and tried not to stare anywhere, like her bare, flat stomach and the tiny jewel she'd begged my mom for when she was fourteen. "Y...yeah... I still gotta vacuum the bottom, think you could grab it from the shed?"

"Sure!" She agreed with a pretty smile before turning around and walking away.

How could she be so cruel to me, I thought. It wasn't fair that she could look so gorgeous and parade around the house like she was, dangling herself in front of me.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as the petite brown-haired beauty sauntered over to the shed in our backyard. Her bottoms weren't a thong or anything, but they left enough bare cheek for a flashback to thrusting against Tzuyu's backside in her bed.

"NO No no no no..." I heard my little sister say frantically from across the yard. "There is no way I'm reaching under there to get that!" She called to me.

I laughed. I should have known a few cobwebs would make Tzuyu squeal; she could be such a baby. I quickly set down my skimmer and walked back to the shed.

"Please Oppa,?" She yelled, still standing in the doorway and looking in. When she turned around I was already there.

"Ohh," she gasped, giggling a bit and looking up at me. She hadn't expected me right behind her. "Do you think you could...um..." Tzuyu was a little flustered, and I thought I saw her eyes wander over my bare chest. "Can you get it for me?"

She didn't step back, and neither did I. For the first time since Tuesday, I kind of felt like I was in control of the situation. I could have reached out and touched her, maybe taking hold of her hips. I think both of us expected something. Nobody was around, nobody would see, perhaps just a touch... I could hear Tzuyu inhaling deeply through her nose; her body language begged me to act.

What little distance there was between us, Tzuyu attempted to close it. With her back arched to show off her wonderful boobs to me, and her mound covered in only the fabric of her suit, I could have lifted up her tiny body and pinned her against the shed.

I wanted to. Actually, I wanted to lay her in the grass right there and fuck her senseless. I wanted to rip off what little bit of clothing she was wearing. Seeing the faint outline of her nipple through its fabric I wanted to tear the top from her and free her perfect breasts.

But I didn't. Knowing I might curse myself for it later, I reached out,...hearing Tzuyu inhale sharply... I touched her on the shoulder, and with enough force to surprise her I pushed her aside.

I didn't bother to look at her; the little gasp she emitted said it all. I had shunned my little sister who, despite her best efforts, had expected me to bend to her every will. It was no match for that time in her bed, but it felt good.

During the party I would replay the event in my head between visions of what had been, and what could have been. Sometimes I caught Tzuyu looking my way when she thought I didn't know. Giving my cousin Jin too much attention seemed to buy me her watchful eye.

Tzuyu gained the upper hand again when we were playing a game with the younger cousins. I'd ended up wrestling her in the deep end and couldn't avoid my hands finding their way to her butt. Whether her thigh ended up between mine and rubbed against my crotch intentionally or not, it was my little sister who pushed away first. That quick interaction left me unable to get out of the pool for over ten minutes.

As I soaked in the water, waiting for my arousal to subside before getting out, Tzuyu stood nearby drying off. Something seemed different, I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but her eyes seemed suggest she was scheming. Her hands were over her head, drying off that mane of hair, and her body was on display for my hungry eyes.

It was strange having this secret between us. My other cousins probably noticed how phenomenal my sister looked in that blue number, or how alluring it was to watch her use both hands to adjust each breast in the top. But the exchanged glances, and the unknown feelings and urges we were having toward each other were uniquely our own.

Everyone was getting their food out on the patio and sitting down about the yard when I finally got out of the pool. Tzuyu had left my sight just long enough for my blood pressure to drop back to a normal level.

I walked inside and immediately the cool air in the house made goosebumps appear on my skin. I knew Tzuyu was inside too; I guess I just wanted to be nearer to her. She smiled at me as I walked in and grabbed a glass from the cabinet nearby, filling it with iced tea. I stood against the countertop and looked at her, leant over the sink and washing a few dishes. The silence... the tension... it was palpable.

Tzuyu looked in my direction with a mischievous smile. She knew I would be watching her, and this time she didn't seem inclined to pretend I wasn't - everybody else was outside and she could see them safely through the window.

Our gaze met for the umpteenth time that day. It wasn't as if we were too scared to talk, our eyes simply said more. Tzuyu looked toward her backside, she was obviously bending an extra bit to show it off. My eyes followed hers and I watched as she shook her butt deliberately. It jiggled ever so little, and fuck was it sexy to watch.

"Tzuyu..." I breathed. I didn't even know I'd said it until she smiled wide upon seeing my reaction. She bit her lower lip, I must have made her feel truly sexy.

"Come here," she called to me.

I moved toward her, entranced. My feet carried me so I was right behind her. When I was close enough she reached behind for my hand and pulled me in tight, placing my palm on her tummy. I felt like a child as she showed me what to do. The unknown territory and the absolute puzzle of teasing and withholding she'd drawn me into had my intentions drawn up in knots.

"You want me, huh?" she asked quietly, leaning back as I wrapped around her a bit tighter. I found my voice.

"Is it that obvious?" I asked. She giggled adorably, and my cock throbbed between us. She wasn't moving her hips, but I could feel her cute ass pressing against me with only a few layers of fabric between us.

Now full and hard, my erection had made its way up to my waistband. My little sister could feel it there, I knew it because she eventually began to wiggle her hips up and down on me, standing on tiptoe to do so.

"God you're big," she whispered to me, both my ego and my cock inflated in response. I reached in front of her and brought my fingers to her mound. I knew we had to be extra careful with so many family members near but I had to feel her, to make her squirm.

"Tzuyu?"

"...unhhh... what Oppa?" She huffed as I pressed my fingers against her clit.

"I can't help it..." I started, feeling her squeeze me between the cleft in her cheeks as I spoke, "you're just so fucking gorgeous...I want..." I paused, afraid how she'd take what I wanted to say.

Tzuyu pushed me back with her backside, turning in my arms.

"I know what you want Oppa..." she said sweetly, looking right at me as she did before kissing my chest.

"I know you've been thinking about it, because I have too..." she kissed my neck... "I know how bad you want it..." Finally, she kissed my lips. We hadn't yet done that, and the feeling of her, warm and soft... I wished it would never end.

"We just... can't..." she said, with true remorse in her voice. I looked at her, and we stood there in silence. The yelling of our cousins and the boisterous laughter of our aunts and uncles came through the sliding door. Looking deeply at me, she spoke again.

"It's too risky... look at how we're acting right now!"

Sure, she had a point, but hadn't she initiated this very embrace? It seemed to me that despite her games, she wanted it as badly as I did. Instead of arguing with her, I did what my body told me to and pushed my hips against her, hoisting her slightly against the edge of the counter. I was hard, very hard, and I know she felt it against her because she inhaled sharply.

"You have to stop..." she demanded.

But I didn't want to stop, I liked having my little sister's waist in my hands and the undeniable feelings we were both having, despite her protest. I knew that this might be my last chance to be with Tzuyu now that she'd stated her case.

A few days before we had just been loving brother and sister. Indeed, lust had gotten the better of me. Tzuyu, in her infinite beauty, had me pining to touch her more, feel her, take her... But the pure ferocity of my desires was fueled by that long-standing love and affection we'd shared; I knew that much. Now, with my beautiful little sibling ripe for the taking, I badly wanted to make love to her and discover her more deeply as a sister and a lover. Pinned against the counter and with all the signs of her physically allowing my actions, I grew bolder.

I slid my hands down a few inches and took her bottoms with them. Tzuyu let me, and looked over her shoulder through the window to ensure nobody was going to catch us in the act. I don't know why she let me do it, maybe she didn't know what I intended to do.

I looked down below us, at the bare skin above Tzuyu's slit. Even from this angle I could see she was very wet. I reached down with my palm upward. My sister caught my wrist, but not before my finger could land perfectly over her clit and positioned just right for me to urge into her.

I did just that, after teasing around her opening for a few seconds. Her grip tightened on my arm as I slipped my middle finger into her. My god was she tight. Only one finger inside and I knew that my little sis was as snug as they come.

"Fuuuucck..." she hissed as I wiggled it inside of her. Though Tzuyu was resistant to having sex with me she certainly wasn't making any moves to stop me fingering her.

My little sister reached back and braced herself with a hand on the countertop. As she nervously glanced through the window to the party outside, we both felt the exhilaration of our forbidden actions with imminent discovery only a frighteningly close distance away.

I began plunging my finger inside of Tzuyu faster and pressuring her mound as much as possible with the palm of my hand. Watching her writhe, her gorgeous body half on and half off of the countertop, I found myself urging my hips against her as well. I was hard for her, so incredibly filled with lust that it couldn't be helped.

"Oppa... seriously... uhhhh... Oppa!"

I knew if I kept going, I would make my beautiful little sister cum. It was obvious that my hand was caressing her insides just right, but the tone of Tzuyu's voice was probably spurred by something else. Whether she meant to or not, my little sister's hand had found its way over my shorts and to the long path of my hard cock beneath. I simply reached down and tugged at the waistband to free the velcro and drawstring that had kept my erection within.

Now that my shorts were open, Tzuyu's hand was on bare skin, and I don't think she expected it. Either that, or the fact that seconds later my tip was precariously close to her dripping wet lips, but my little sister was not happy. I knew it was a risky situation, and that we could be found committing incest by any one of our nearby relatives with little notice. I could hear my dad laughing and my uncle finishing another one of his stupid jokes through the open door, but I didn't care. Yet, my middle finger was still immersed in my sister's tight, teenage pussy and I wanted nothing more than to replace it with my cock.

"Don't... don't... ohhhhh... dooooon't...please Oppa...fuckk..." I really shoved my finger up into her then; Tzuyu was going to cum. I massaged her, with a finger inside and a hand under the triangle of cloth over her breast.

I wanted to, but I simply couldn't fuck my little sister without her permission. It felt good enough that Tzuyu had my shaft pinned against her thigh and was stroking me to the best of her ability as orgasm approached and overtook her. Her other hand was haphazardly scanning my body, grabbing at the arm which was reaching down below, or at my chest and shoulder so she could simply feel me.

Her breasts felt incredible, her body felt incredible, and when our lips touched as Tzuyu was trembling through the remainder of her orgasm, that felt incredible too. We'd hardly more than peck each other's lips yet, and my little sister might not have allowed the darting of our tongues if she hadn't been shivering through a wonderful climax. We were lucky that nobody had decided to step inside at that moment, because neither of us intended to part, at least until the beautiful brunette in front of me had given me leave.

Slowly, I withdrew my finger from Tzuyu's tunnel. Her walls objected with gentle suction until my fingertip brushed finally over the hood of her clitoris, causing Tzuyu to shudder in such a way that my cock bobbed against my little sis with arousal.

Our foreheads were pressed together, and my little sister had her delicate hand still wrapped convincingly around my shaft. I wondered what she was thinking, for her body language spoke a message utterly apart from the words she had spoken. She whispered to me, as if someone might overhear.

"God you're such a jerk," we both laughed, Tzuyu between shortened breaths, "why did you do that to me?"

"Because I know you wanted me to..." I told her. She was still sliding her hand up and down my shaft, the feeling of her thigh and fingers driving me wild. "Come on Tzuyu, why did you let me?"

She rolled her eyes, annoyed, but with a smile so I knew my question wasn't entirely unfounded. And still she was holding on to my hard staff. She must have meant to, because below us my little sister was playing with my tip and it was lingering but an inch from her opening. Between her thighs and in her hand she held me, her bikini bottoms hastily pushed down to the floor and my trunks open just enough for her access.

At first I was watching her hand and agonizingly wondering what she planned to do. When I looked up I could see that she, instead, had been watching me. I think it excited her, my uncertainty and simultaneous desire for her. I could have come then if I didn't think I might be inside of the gorgeous little teenager in a moment or two.

"This is as far as I'm gonna let us go, Oppa, I'm serious." She said when our eyes locked.

Damnit, I thought, she wasn't going to give in. The little tease. I'd just made her moan and shiver herself into a huge climax on our kitchen counter and she was still withholding. The depressing thought that I'd never make love to her was a real possibility that entered my mind.

I tested her anyway, urging my hips forward so my cock was sent between her legs. Tzuyu shook her head no. And though I could feel her jump when my tip was sent skirting her clit and the lips I so desperately desired to open to me, she prevented it with a push of her hand.

"It's not gonna happen Oppa..."

It didn't seem fair. I hadn't started all of this. It was Tzuyu who had caused the evolution of my thoughts and the final acceptance of how undeniably gorgeous and seductive my little sister was. It was Tzuyu who had flaunted her body and delivered those mischievous glances and touches in the last few days. Sure, I had jumped at every opportunity, but I wanted to consummate what she'd been hinting at all along.

I grabbed her hips tight, feeling her hipbones beneath. I felt her grip on my cock loosen as she sensed what I was doing. If she let go I could just shove forward and bury myself into her, ending this stupid game and breaking through the wall that stood between us.

"Don't you dare," Tzuyu said.

I pushed, she wasn't strong enough to stop me. My cockhead mashed against her clit, and Tzuyu's head swiveled in response. I thought I could feel her lips parting as my tip found them. My little sister had her hand on my cock so she was unfortunately still in control. Though I tried to angle correctly, she swiftly guided me so when my hips met hers I was snug between her thighs again. I'd felt that already; I wanted more.

I think my little sister knew by the time she looked into my eyes that I didn't intend to give up. She glared at me, then down to where she was holding me tediously close to sinking inside of her... then through the window again. It suggested to me that she wasn't entirely committed to stopping me; my heart was pounding in my chest at the possibility.

I was holding my breath and feeling incredibly nervous. I wondered if Tzuyu could tell. I was about to fuck my little sister on the kitchen counter; would she blame me for being so brazen? It seemed as if I had wanted her forever. Now was my chance. I took hold of her wrist; inches from my grasp she had her fingers wrapped around my hard cock. And inches from that was my tip, the head of her own brother's cock, prodding at her tiny opening and begging her to allow me to lock us together in incest.

I tugged at her wrist strongly. She could have stopped me. She could have put up a fight, but I knew her heart wasn't in it when I felt her willingly let go of my rod and allow me to guide her hand to the counter on which she sat and hold her there. She was going to let me fuck her.

One hand on her left wrist and the other on her right, she still feigned to resist me. I watched her bite her lip, felt her stand on her toes. She wiggled in front of me, halfheartedly trying to free her hands.

I think I could have angled just right to follow through with it, she was just so damn wet. My head urged at her outer lips, and quickly slid enticingly up her slit, missing her entrance. Tzuyu opened her mouth a little bit; I could feel her tremble.

I wish I had done it: finally pushed my cock into my little sister's pussy... filled her up with every inch of me. I wish I had because that's when my mom called from the patio...

"Kids!" we heard through that open door.

'God damnit!' I thought. We both stood in silence. My cock was shoved between us against Tzuyu as we listened for our mother's next words.

"What are you doing in there, can't you come out?"

Tzuyu and I looked at each other, my intentions were unchanged but she looked as if she'd changed her mind. I was still going to go for it, and withdrew from her in order to try again. If I just hurried I could take her... I pointed my cock back toward her entrance. 'Please just let this temptation end,' I thought.

This time she actually did stop me, slipping her hands from beneath mine on the counter and shoving me away.

I was dumbfounded. My mouth hung open in disbelief.

She quickly reached for her bottoms and pulled them up, lucky that they were still wet from the pool. The sheen of her arousal was apparent to me on her mound as I watched until she lifted the blue bottoms to cover it. I thought she might just walk out without saying anything, but she then walked up close to me.

She reached down; I had no words. She grabbed my cock and shoved it into my trunks. It didn't fit well, still sticking up and out of my waistband.

"I told you we couldn't do this. See what I mean?" She had this smug grin on her face that I thought still looked sexy.

"You might want to wait to come out until you're not so..." she began, lacing up my shorts deliberately "...large." An inch or two of me was still showing above the bow she tied, she tenderly slid her fingers around me and pushed my cock to the side.

I was still speechless. I watched her spin hastily towards the door, seeing her breasts and butt jiggle beautifully. I knew she was smirking, though I couldn't see it as she walked away without another word.

'Again!' I screamed inwardly. I hated Tzuyu for depriving me after she'd so clearly teased me into a sexually starved frenzy. There were other girls I could have, some even that were only a quick text message away. But I wanted this one. I wanted my little sister. I wanted to strip her, manhandle her and then, finally, fuck her like she'd been begging and teasing for.

It took me a few minutes before I could even walk outside, mostly because I was fuming and partly because my cock refused to forget the sight and feeling of my hot little sister bottomless on the kitchen counter.

Tzuyu didn't even avoid my gaze when we were both seated outside. When my eyes pointed in her direction, whether to glare angrily or stare at her perfect breasts in that bikini top, she looked back unapologetically. I saw her bite her lip once when she felt me look down at her chest. I had to focus on eating just to withhold my animal instinct to pounce across the table and lay Tzuyu out in front of the entire family... even that thought made my trunks stir.

The rest of the night went pretty much the same way. God was I mad at her. I couldn't understand why she would initiate everything and then just go cold on me at her convenience. She had to know what she'd started and that I'd want more now that she'd granted me a sample of the fantasies of her that had often as I slept.

Tzuyu may have sensed it, but she didn't steer clear of me. I allowed the sympathetic thought that she might have been as fixated on thoughts of me as I was her and that was drawing her close. I lightened up by the time it was getting dark. When she came to sit close to me around the bonfire later that night I could feel my frustration begin to eek away, replaced instead by her presence as she wrapped around my arm.

She was making little effort, in my opinion, to hide that there was something going on between us. I kept looking around nervously to determine whether someone around the bonfire could tell. I guess they didn't know that my little sister and I had gotten each other off in her bed a few days ago, or in the kitchen as they ate, so they didn't see her affection as out of the ordinary.

I knew I wasn't going to get a chance to do anything more than squeeze my fingers against Tzuyu's side as we sat together that night. I was so distracted. Feeling her next to me, the warmth of her body and that subtle vanilla smell I think came from her conditioner, most of the night was a blur. I did have a good time; hanging out with my extended family and putting back a few beers always proved fun. I could tell Tzuyu was getting a bit drunk off her intake because she leaned more and more into me as the fire burned down. I would never tire of the feeling of her breast squished against me; she was probably doing it intentionally.

Tzuyu and I were both going to have roommates that night as we had little cousins littered about the house while their parents, my aunts and uncles that had a few too many drinks that night, slept it off until the morning. Something about the way Tzuyu had looked at me when she knew what I planned to do on the kitchen counter had me drifting off to sleep that night with a glimmer of hope.

But before I got in bed, with our cousins chattering in each of our rooms and my little sister and I preparing for bed, I found myself alone in the hallway. Tzuyu stopped me on her way to the bathroom. I was walking sleepily toward my door and before I reached it I felt a hand on my chest. Next thing I knew my little sister had pushed me into the darkened laundry room and was pinning me against the door.

Her lithe little body was pressed against mine and I felt no inclination to move as I took her in. She was wearing a pretty simple flannel PJ set with low riding pants cinched around her tiny waist. She must have 'accidentally ' forgotten to button up the top because it was hanging open and she'd changed into a light purple bra that snugly held her tits in place.

She was silent at first. The only sounds I could hear were the giggling of my nearby cousins and my little sister's quiet breathing. For a few moments she seemed content just to let me look at her, and her at me. Then she looked as if she was going to say something, but decided against it. Instead she stood slowly on her tiptoes to level her eyes with mine.

Her eyes were fixed on mine and her lips so close. My hands moved on their own to my baby sister's sides. They slipped easily past her open nightshirt and found her bare skin. She was so fit I could feel her core muscles flexing as she stretched to stand as tall as me. As soon as she felt me holding her she gained some confidence and kissed me.

At first I just let her. I wanted her so badly, but playing directly into her game hadn't worked out so well for me yet. She fidgeted, seemingly hoping I would move my hands around on her stomach. When I did, I guess I just melted. I couldn't touch her like and feel her lips hungry for me to kiss her back without doing so. It felt dangerous, so close to our own cousins and kissing like we hadn't a care in the world.

I eventually gave into her entirely, and before long I was fully hard and pushing out my hips into Tzuyu. She was grinding against me, and every so often I could feel my cock wedging between her thighs. We were making out unabashedly, my hands were roughly handling her and palming her breasts over the bra. I'm not sure I've ever been so passionate with a girl besides her before or since.

I wondered if it was because Tzuyu had been drinking. After all, she was only a tiny eighteen-year-old and I'd seen her toss quite a few back. Or maybe it was because we'd been so close to the real thing before. She had protested convincingly, but once again I was utterly confused by her behavior. I suppose this unknown territory we were traversing had both my little sister and I acting unpredictably at every step.

I remember I was moving my hands down beneath the waistband of her PJs when we heard the bathroom door close.

"Holy shit!" my little sis whispered. She leaned into me as close as possible and peeked out the door.

Had someone seen us? Had someone walked by when we were caught up making out in the room right next door. I looked around us, we were obscured in darkness in the tiny room and only the light from beneath the bathroom door was casting a pale light into the hallway. I hoped we were safe, but couldn't know for sure.

Seconds later someone was brushing their teeth in the bathroom and Tzuyu and I breathed a little easier. If we had been seen, whichever one of our cousins that had walked by probably wouldn't have just moved on and gone about their routine. Regardless, Tzuyu still spoke very softly.

"Are you still mad at me?" she asked sweetly. Her big blue eyes looked up at me nervously.

I wanted to say yes. I was pissed, at some point in the evening, that she was denying me what I thought we both wanted. I guess I had kind of forgotten for a while that I was her big brother, that I should have been able to keep my composure and not anger so easily at her withholding.

It was for that reason that I told her "No, I'm sorry I was so pissed for a while there."

"I could tell," she responded, "you were being kind of a dick."

I didn't really like hearing that, and she must have noticed because as soon as she saw my glare she continued. "You were going to fuck me, right on the kitchen counter. I said no and you were still going to do it!" Again, I was not pleased. She was right, but I could feel her riling me up. "I bet you'd fuck me right now if I let you!" She was whispering as quietly as possible while still gazing at me wide-eyed and with plenty of attitude.

It was all incredibly confusing. Here I was with a hard-on for my little sis, which was still pinned between us and my hands still in her flannel PJs on her pert little ass, but I was getting scolding for wanting to bang my younger sister. Not to mention she kept saying "fuck me" and her language was arousing me like none other.

"Tzuyu, come on!" I complained. I had to catch myself so I wasn't too loud. "I won't blame you for what I want to do with you, but please don't pretend you're innocent."

I could tell that she was actually listening to me, for a change.

"One day we're fooling around in bed and the next morning it's like you've completely forgotten." She scoffed as I said it. I continued anyway, "and you looked fucking gorgeous in your swimsuit... you look fucking gorgeous right now, You keep teasing me too; what do you want me to do? "I could tell she liked hearing me praise her, but she was way too stubborn to give in so easily.

"Look," she answered, "I'm not saying I don't want it as badly as you do, because I do. I've had dreams about you since I was fifteen, and then you were in my bed, and then I felt you poking my butt with your big cock and I got horny and then I just kind of acted without thinking."

She was racing through the explanation, probably because we heard our cousin stop brushing their teeth in the room next door. "But you can't just fuck me. First of all, you're really big and I can't just take you on the kitchen counter. Which you were GOING TO DO."

"Second, look at us. We could get in so much trouble. What if whoever is in the bathroom had seen us?"

"Hey," I interrupted, "you stopped me and kissed me!" I was still reeling from hearing that she had fantasies about me. I'd definitely thought about her before, but until she was stroking me in her bed I'd never been bold enough to do anything about it.

"Ugh," she sounded, "whatever."

We were silent for a moment. We were both feeling argumentative, turned on, and confused. The combination made it hard to fire back at each other. Even so, the little tease was still moving her hips around. I don't know if it was just to screw with me or, more likely, she was doing it to make herself feel good.

I ran my hands firmly from her hips all the way up to her breasts, massaging her roughly as I did. Despite her attitude and the words coming out of her mouth, I could feel her breathe deeply and writhe in my hands. I wanted her to just give in to the desires she was clearly feeling and stop posturing herself.

But I knew she wouldn't, especially not tonight. Before my cousin could come out and pass us again Tzuyu pushed away from me and walked, no strutted, back to her room. I backed further into the laundry room and waited for my cousin Chao to pass. He clearly had no idea we had been in there.

I went to bed that night frustrated and still completely turned on. The hour or so it took me to fall asleep my mind raced between visions of my bottomless little sis in the kitchen, or in that cute bra in the hallway, and then the anger I felt about her teasing. A selfish part of me hoped that she would be brooding just the same in the room down the hall.

The next day most of our extended family left. To my dismay, my Aunt Cheng and Uncle Wei hadn't booked a flight out for another two days. They always pulled shit like that: overstaying their welcome, in my opinion. And this time we'd be stuck with little ones sleeping in mine and Tzuyu's bedrooms for two more nights. I was utterly depressed. If only I had a little privacy, where perhaps I could slip into Tzuyu's room and lay with her for a little while until she snuggled up to me like she'd done before. Sadly, I'd not get the chance.

And yet, the next morning, more inexplicable behavior from my sister. I was brushing my teeth in the same bathroom we'd made out and then argued next to the night before. Tzuyu came in wearing some ridiculous workout outfit. Her top was not much more than a light blue sports bra and her shorts a tiny pair of black spandex material with white trim. Her tube socks that matched the top and a pair of new sneakers rounded off the whole thing and made her appear beyond adorable. The eighteen-year-old looked incredibly tan and lean, and showing so much skin that I was practically drooling as I watched her in the mirror.

I expected to get nothing from her after our disagreement the night before. I was wrong. Maybe having cousins in her bedroom for the night had kept her from taking care of some of the sexual tension I'd felt between us in the laundry room. Whatever it was, I watched in disbelief as Tzuyu came up behind me and I could feel her breasts pressing against my back. Holding my gaze in the mirror she slid her arms, slowly but determinedly , to my front and over the shorts I'd worn to bed.

"Are you always hard?" she asked innocently.

"That must be difficult for you." She continued, sounding snide.

Her hands were both, one after the other, caressing the length of my shaft through my shorts. I had been somewhat hard as I usually was in the morning, and more so when I saw my little sister in that damned running outfit. But after feeling the teenager's hands rubbing me, I was positively pining for relief.

I'd stopped brushing my teeth, so my hand hung there suspended in my disbelief. With my other hand I had to brace myself on the vanity because Tzuyu's touch was so amazing that my knees were feeling weak. She was holding tightly to me from behind so I could feel all of her tiny frame and still she was leaning to look at me in the eye.

It felt incredible, though I wanted to get my hands on some of the exposed stomach of my little sister's or the tight material that made her butt look so graspable. I was content to let her continue rubbing me for another minute or so, but thinking about how hot she looked in her outfit made me excited to seat her on the vanity like we had in the kitchen the day before.

I was glad I waited because a few seconds later Tzuyu pulled back the elastic of my shorts and shoved her hand in to grab my cock. She took it firmly in her hand and encircled it with her fingers.

"Holy crap," she exclaimed with big eyes, "I guess I keep forgetting how big you are."

She gently ran her fingers from base to tip and back before grabbing me firmly again. I knew my little sister hadn't had more than a boyfriend or maybe two so her experience was limited, but it was if everything she did was just perfectly sexy. I could never tire of the taboo behavior we had been acting out in the last few days.

And then... it was over.

No warning, no cause like a relative walking by or our parents calling; she just stopped.

"I gotta go for a run," said the beautiful brunette.

She pulled her hand out of my pants and the waistband returned with a 'snap' against my skin. Tzuyu put her hands on my sides and squeezed gently, giving me a jolt before saying "See ya later alligator!" and heading for the door.

"Tzuyu, what the fu..." I called after her. But she was gone, and for the umpteenth time that week I felt totally cheated. I'd let my little sister completely screw with my mind and now my desire and arousal. She wasn't just teasing me innocently or playfully; she was stringing me along for her own evil enjoyment.

It took a full fifteen minutes before the damned sexually starved frenzy my teasing, baby sister had left me in subsided, and when I sat down I was fixated on the image of Tzuyu in her outfit. Someone asked me a question at breakfast and think I actually asked them to repeat it three times before I was able to answer; I was that bound up.

I had to do something. I had to stop fantasizing about Tzuyu and letting her prey on me the way she had been. She was not going to end her torment; that much was clear. But she was also not going to let me call the shots.

I was thinking about how I might sit her down and talk to her, or tease her right back, when she returned from the run. She was glistening from the exercise, her skin shiny but only just. She walked past the six of us seated at the table. I could tell that every one of us guys, even my youngest cousin of around thirteen, had noticed her. I remember thinking how funny they looked, pretending not to watch her as she filled a glass of water and tipped it up in front of the sink. A few drops of condensation landed on the tops of her breasts, and I watched them roll down into her top in the wonderful cleft between each breast.

Then I realized that I probably looked no less pathetic than my cousins, my dad or my uncle. I was as bendable to Tzuyu's will as they were, and I felt the familiar anger at my helplessness climb into my brain.

"Have a good run honey?" My dad asked.

"Yeah!" Tzuyu said, "but it was really hot out there and now I'm all sweaty."

She sort of stuck out her abs and looked at the shining surface of her skin as she said it. My relatives got to talking about their workout routines and such. I was pretty much zoned out, thinking about Tzuyu, what I wanted to do to her and watching her as she walked around the kitchen. At one point, Tzuyu even got competitive, talking about how she thought she could probably beat me in any workout.

"You are really BIG," Tzuyu emphasized. She raised her eyebrows at me as she said it. I knew what she meant even if our family didn't, "but I think I could take you!"

My cousins both laughed, thinking she was issuing a dare. And as I remember, it was then that I decided to take her up on it and to put an end to Tzuyu's teasing. Watching her, with the tight spandex hugging her breasts that I longed to see bouncing up and down as I fucked her, with the taut midsection I would hold on to as I thrusted... the miniature shorts that cradled her pussy so I could just make out her mound and lips... And again she was just dangling herself in front of me like there was nothing I could do.

Well, I could do something, and I was going to. Tzuyu told us that she was going upstairs to shower, and I just nodded my head. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of shooting me another naughty look.

I sat in silence at the table for a few moments. My heart started to pound. I was too fed up, and I was going to explode if I waited until the next moment that Tzuyu and I were alone, whenever that would be. Would I be able to pull it off? What would Tzuyu do? Could I be caught?

Throwing caution to the wind, I mumbled a few words, excused myself and headed upstairs. With each step, my heart pounded harder. I felt like it was going to jump out of my chest.

Thump

Thump

Thump

It was like my heartbeat was at my inner ear and the door handle to Tzuyu's bedroom was a million miles away. It was probably only a few seconds but my head was pounding to the fall of each step until I reached her door. 

I heard her turn the shower on within. There was a bathroom in her room actually, so the fact that she was out in the hall the night before meant she had intended to run into me. All the more reason I had to keep pushing ahead with my plan.

I reached her door and listened. I imagined that inside my little sister was peeling her clothes off If I went in now I might be treated to the sight of the teenager bent over as she stepped out of her shorts. Tempting as it was, I had to wait.

It was the longest thirty seconds of my life. Standing there, knowing my naked little sis was just feet away, and knowing what I intended to do... I was indescribably tense.

Finally I heard the sound of the bathroom door close and shortly thereafter the shower door sliding shut. I took a deep breath and turned the handle to her bedroom as quietly as possible. Peeking in, I saw that the coast was clear. I could hear Tzuyu in the shower, probably just beginning to cool off after her run.

I closed her bedroom door behind me, and then stood at the bathroom door: the final threshold between me and the naked teenager who had been teasing me into submission and plaguing my thoughts and dreams. It was with that realization that I opened the door swiftly and silently, slipping in without making a noise.

Tzuyu was turned away from me; I was thankful for that. I could see her through the clear shower door. Her workout clothes were in a heap on the bathmat and she was running her fingers through her hair. She had no idea I was inside or that my hungry eyes were upon her.

Her hair was dark and wet, and even from behind Tzuyu was stunning, drawing me closer. I hadn't yet had the chance to see my little sister fully naked and standing up, stretching to thread her fingers through her hair. The swell of her breasts from the side and the slender and youthful nature of her frame reeled me step by step toward the shower.

My heart was beating incredibly fast and my hands were shaking. At the last minute, I looked up and down my little sister's body. She was absolutely gorgeous, wet and unspeakably alluring. I recalled the desire I felt for her and the way she'd driven me to it and found my confidence. In seconds I tossed off my shirt, shoved my shorts to the floor and grabbed the handle of the shower door.

Quickly, I cast the door to the side and stepped inside. Tzuyu finally heard me and was attempting to wipe the water from her eyes and turn, but she was too late. I'd already shut the door and pinned my little sister against the tile wall of the shower before she could stop me.

"What the fuck Oppa!"

I had been hard from the second I stepped into her bedroom. I had been waiting for this moment since I'd first felt Tzuyu's little backside against me in her bed.

She knew 'what the fuck' was going on because I had her hands pinned against the wall with mine and my cock was planted between her legs. Her chest was pressed against the tile too, and her face turned sideways. I could see the mounded flesh of her tit spilling out to the side of her.

"Oppa, I'm warning you!" She said.

"You're warning me what?" I asked, "What Tzuyu? That you're going to just fuck with me all you want and then just walk away like you own me?"

She didn't answer, but I swear I felt her hips move. The water was only on my legs, but I could see steam rising up between us. I tested her by moving my hips backward and sliding my cock, which had been tucked into the gap between her thighs, against her pussy lips. Then, right away, I pushed it back. Her soft ass stopped me as I forcefully thrust against it. I intentionally missed entering her, but I got so close that I know it got Tzuyu's attention. My brain was positively spinning; I withdrew and set my head at just the right spot where I'd finally push into my little sister's pussy and wiggled it there against her lips.

Tzuyu tensed and her body writhed perceptively. I couldn't be certain, but it didn't seem like she was trying to muscle out of my grasp but that she'd unintentionally responded to the suggestive movement of my hips. For all her denial, for all her teasing and refusal, her body wanted me as much as I did hers. It wasn't just the shower, my little sister was wet and I couldn't wait any longer. She opened her mouth to speak,

"Fuck you Oppa...uhhh...ooouwwhhhhh."

I'll never forget the sound she made when I first felt my cock slip into my little sister's pussy. I don't think she believed that I was actually going to do it. But as I watched Tzuyu's head roll and felt her stand on her tiptoes to slow my entry, she obviously knew what was happening. And the feeling of Tzuyu's teen pussy wrapping around my cockhead was like nothing I'd ever felt before in my life.

It was so wrong, so taboo and so incredibly risky. My hard cock was finally inside my little sister. She had been asking for it long enough, but this time she'd thought I was too chicken to oblige. My hands were wrapped around her wrists at her sides, close enough to still squeeze her hips with my thumb and forefinger.

I grabbed right above her butt, depressing into the soft cheeks and I pushed her down from her toes. She came to rest with her feet flat on the tile floor and my tip an inch deeper inside of her.

I'm not cruel, I knew that she would need to adjust to me as she'd warned before and her wide eyes told me so again. This time, Tzuyu knew that I was in control. Yet, I was content to stand there, unmoving, as we both accepted the reality that we were finally committing the incest we'd been dancing around for days.

I wasn't going to speak first; whoever spoke first would lose this standoff.

I gripped Tzuyu's hips and arms at her sides. Slowly I forced her to bend more and take another inch and another inch of my cock into her tiny pussy.

"Ouuuwwww...Fuck Oppa...stop... oh it's too big... please."

I know it's awful, but for once I liked hearing her beg. With her whimpering as motivation, I stood up taller and continued the thrust into my naked and wet little sister. Her pussy was incredibly tight. It resisted me every bit of the way, but there was no mistaking that she was aroused. By the time I was ready to bottom out inside Tzuyu, she was putting up little resistance to keep me from bringing her backside lower so I could be buried inside her.

I thought I might climax immediately. Every inch of my penis was being snugly sheathed by Tzuyu's pussy. The thought that I was fucking her completely unprotected made me throb inside of her. I remembered her saying that she wasn't on birth control, and the added risk was only more motivation. The fact that she'd denied me so many times and now I was finally getting what she'd teased without her permission was even better. I wanted to simply fuck her, cum inside her and break all of the rules at once.

It was then that Tzuyu revealed the last, unknown piece of the puzzle.

"Fu...fu... fuuuuck Ke..Oppa." She cried with wavering words, "I'm a... ouhhhhhaa... virgin."

I couldn't believe it.

I knew she'd had boyfriends before, and all the teasing and playing... I'd just assumed she was a seasoned seductress. Now I wasn't just fucking my fertile little sister without her consent, I was taking her virginity too. I knew that nobody in the world had ever been so lucky, so aroused and so ready to fuck their little sister in earnest as I was at that moment.

It all made sense now, why Tzuyu wasn't on birth control, why she kept talking about how big I was despite that I'm certainly no pornstar, and why she'd teetered so close to the edge without letting us go as far as we now were.

"Is that why you wouldn't let me fuck you Tzuyu?" I asked her, she turned her face away.

Slowly I removed a few inches of my cock from inside her before steadily sliding it back in. "Ouuuuuwahhhhh... fuckk Oppa... fuck you...you're fucking... ughhh...raping me."

"You knew you were doing this Tzuyu..." I argued, "And you just kept teasing and teasing."

Ever so slightly, I felt her little butt jiggle against me. Perhaps it was a reaction to feeling her first cock inside of her. Her hands were no longer fighting to be free of my grasp, though I didn't risk letting them go.

"Try not to be so tense sis, you'll make it hurt.."

I didn't expect my little sister to comply, but in a few seconds I could feel her insides loosen their grip on me. It truly seemed like she was going to allow me to continue.

Again I fucked her from behind. She felt absolutely wonderful like that. Her height, the smoothness of her skin, the way her back arched just right so that when my hips met her; she was every bit as perfect as I'd dreamed. As I once again shoved my cock into her, hard, I met resistance and knew I was all the way buried to her cervix.

"Fucking dick... uhhhh fuck...oh my God... you're such a fuuuuhhcking asshole!" she said through my next two thrusts.

"What's that Tzuyu," I asked sarcastically, "you want it in your ass?"

I know I saw a smile across her face at my humor, but she quickly concealed it. I had no intention of being anywhere but my little sister's virgin pussy at the moment, but I loved seeing her adorable smile amongst her insults.

I chanced to let go of my little sister's hands; knowing that she might use her newfound freedom to escape. I guess I just thought that I'd already done enough and she deserved to at least have some dignity back. When I let go, I could see her thinking hard about what she would do. I immediately grabbed her hips to hold on tight and keep fucking her as it might have been the end of my chance to do so.

But what happened next was absolutely amazing. My hips slapped against her pretty butt and I watched in awe as Tzuyu slowly lifted her hands to the wall. She pushed away from it, but only enough so her breasts hung free and her head was able to move as she pleased. My little sister was going to willingly let me fuck her from behind. I depressed my thumbs into those tantalizing dimples she had in her back and humped her like I'd only dreamed of doing.

And that wasn't all. After a few thrusts I finally got my hands on her perfect chest. I cradled each breast and then squeezed them firmly against her to continue to fuck her as I had been. My fingers found her nipples and I pinched them, hearing her moan immediately. I guess that was a lot for Tzuyu, and the feelings of having me inside of her for the first time were bringing her to new heights.

"Ahhhhhh... oh fuck Oppa... I... ohhhgod... stop I'm gonna..."

No way. No way was I going to stop. I only held her tighter. She was holding herself from the wall with one hand and trying to fend me off with the other. She was hopelessly uncoordinated in her attempt, and each thrust only made her motions more desperate.

"Oppa don't...ohfuckkkk... Oppa... Oppa... please..." she said. Tzuyu didn't know what she was begging for; I knew she'd never felt anything like she was about to. I couldn't stop. She had to experience what I had built up inside of her.

"Ohhh please brother...pleaaaase.. oooOOOUUUW."

She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes upon in that moment. I held her as best I could because I could see her knees giving out beneath her. My hands wrapped around her chest and midsection; my hips continued grinding into her.

My little sister quaked and tensed in my arms. Tears formed in her eyes as she was overcome with feeling. She grabbed at my encircling arms and held them tight. Her nails dug into me until it hurt. Her head lolled back, her graceful neck so close to me that I could smell the remnants of her perfume. Her lungs were filled with the breath she had taken and been unable to expel until the numbing climax released its hold on her. I held on to that beautiful young girl so tight that our bodies were melded together in passion.

Her tunnel squeezed my cock with such ferocity it was almost painful. I could feel her walls rippling as her body revealed to her for the first time what made sex something she'd never be able to go without. And still I just held her. I'd gotten into the shower, penetrated her for the first time and even fucked her into a mind-numbing orgasm without her permission, but I would keep her in my arms, despairingly hopeful that she might forgive me when she came back... that it would all have been worth it.

She did, eventually, regain herself. I could feel strength returning to her limbs. Her panting breaths got deeper, and her nails finally disengaged from me. I'd stopped moving my hips because once she had reached the height of her orgasm I knew she would be incredibly sensitive; Yet, I was lodged as deep as her tiny frame would allow.

The only sound at that point was the constant drone of cascading water. I could feel Tzuyu's little body struggling to take enough breaths to fully recover; her vulnerability was adorable. I didn't mind either, because I took the opportunity to continue lightly massaging her breasts. The first reaction I heard from my little sister was a giggle when I took both her breasts in my hands from behind her and playfully jiggled them against each other. They were simply the perfect size, and I wanted to duplicate the motion I'd seen so many times when they'd been hidden from me in one of her push-up bras. I couldn't help myself, and my little sis seemed to appreciate my admiration.

To my dismay, Tzuyu reached back and put her palms on my hips. With considerable effort, she pushed me away and stood up as tall as she could, sliding my swollen cock from her slowly. Each exposed inch felt cold and uncomfortable when not secured snugly inside my teenage sister. I worried, as my cockhead finally emerged from Tzuyu's tiny opening with the faintest sound of suction, that I'd never get back in.

Now it was my turn to hold my breath. I was hard, longing to finish our incestuous tryst inside my little sister and anxious about what she might say when she turned toward me. At first she didn't look at my face, only down where my staff was pressed against her abs as she turned. It was as if she was staring in wonder at the culprit of her wonderful orgasm, her brother's cock that had invaded her untouched pussy and forced a climax on her.

When she did finally look up, I saw on her face no blame or disappointment. She could have said something to confirm it but when she stood on her tiptoes to kiss me I knew that she'd embraced what we'd just shared. Tzuyu's hands were more aggressive than ever as she reached out for some way to hold on to me as her lips and mine were joined. I felt my cock slip into the incredibly wet cleft between her legs.

"You bastard..." she said with a smile as I tried to prolong our kiss when she pulled away.

"What?" I asked with feigned innocence.

"I can't believe you just did that!" my little sister continued.

"Did what?"

"Well, for starters you took my virginity, and you fucked me without a condom on..." she said with raised eyebrows. "Not to mention you basically forced yourself on your little sister when the rest of our family is like 50 feet away."

"The door's locked," I said with a shrug, "I think..."

Tzuyu hit me on the chest hard and laughed aloud, "You are the worst!"

She looked so pretty, naked with the shower running on her taut little butt and leaning against me. I pulled her tight and could see that her face was still flush from her orgasm minutes before.

"What's the matter, are you worried they heard your big brother "force" you to cum?" I asked while making the quotes motion sarcastically.

"Oh fuck you," she said and then she surprised me with another hungry kiss. The sudden motion pushed me back so that the tiled ledge behind us took out my legs and I fell with a soft 'thud' to a seat there. Without missing a beat, my little sister was straddling me with her back arched athletically.

"I guess I knew you'd snap eventually," she said quietly, in between kisses, "I just didn't think it would be like this..."

I felt Tzuyu searching with her hips slowly for the path of my member, and finding it she whispered, "I'm glad it was."

I was enraptured by the little brunette. My conscious brain was still struggling to accept that I'd just fucked my little sister and watched her cum during her first time. It was far more difficult with the petite eighteen-year-old slowly grinding on my cock. I wanted to beg Tzuyu to take me back inside her, but she wouldn't release my lips yet. Feeling her slit and the opening to her young quim so close was torturous. When she finally did stop to look into my eyes I said,

"So...are you going to show me what all that tight workout gear has been for," my little sister's mouth was already agape as she listened, "or are you gonna just pretend to fuck me while you're up there?"

I knew Tzuyu too well; she could never resist a challenge.

She quickly lifted her hips to position herself, but I could see she was nervous as she held me right at her opening. I lifted my hips up toward her without thinking, causing my tip to prod and then enter her before she could react. Her body jolted and she lifted higher to remove my head from inside her.

"It's really big," she said with big eyes pleading for approval. "I didn't have time to worry about it before."

So I decided to help her... a little. I grabbed Tzuyu's hips firmly and pushed her downward. She must have allowed it, to some degree, because I was able to get her to take almost half of my cock into her tiny channel with one steady push.

"Ohhhh fuck..." she cried, her hands scrambling to mine upon her hips, "God damnit, I shoulda...ughh...shoulda known you'd do that."

Her face was absolutely beautiful as I watched her come to rest with me buried fully inside her. I hope to never forget the way she gasped when I was as deep as I could go.

"You feel so good sis," I told her as I pushed my hips firmly against her, "you are so incredible Tzuyu...mnnnhh... and so freaking tight."

She smiled through a scrunched, focused face and hugged me, kissing my neck when she got close enough. She was still adjusting, which made sense having been a virgin only minutes before. I was content to hold her and feel her body against mine until she lifted her hips off and tried again.

"God...mnnhhhhh... I can't believe it fits in me." Her voice was mesmerizing to me. "You can't cum in me, okay?"

"Why not?" I asked, hoping she'd change her mind.

"Because," she said without much conviction, "because I could get pregnant."

I'm not sure why exactly, but the thought of cumming inside my little sister made me more aroused than ever. I grasped her hips as firmly as I could and helped her along the path of my cock. To my surprise. Tzuyu began rotating her hips in small, front-to-back circles like she'd done it a million times before. I don't know why I was so shocked; I guess with her indescribable sexiness came a natural affinity for being the perfect little plaything.

"Fuuuck Tzuyu..." I said as her hips rotated into mine again.

"Hmmm... what's wrong Oppa?" my little sister asked with a giggle.

"uhhh, unnghhhh...does that feel good big brother?" She was really exerting herself as she said it, moving her hips amazingly up and down on me. Both of us stared in disbelief as my cock disappeared into her over and over.

My hands wandered all over her, fingers spreading as I touched her flat stomach and felt the bottom of her ribcage. Tzuyu had an arm around my neck to steady herself as she kept her hips moving and her other hand guided me to her youthful breasts. They were so soft and perky; her nipples were stiff and the perfect shade of pink to my eyes and plying fingers. I don't know if all teenage girls have a chest like my little sister's but in that moment I thought that Tzuyu's were the most beautiful tits I'd ever see. A couple times I cupped one and lightly licked her nipple. She tried to help me access her, lifting up until my cock was almost out of her. Tzuyu clearly liked it because she arched her back to help me take her puffy little nub in my mouth.

Tzuyu and I were both breathing heavily and she was quietly moaning into my ear as I held her breast and lapped at it. She took my chin aggressively in her hand and kissed me; her forwardness made me throb with desire. I couldn't believe how well my little sister was doing for her first time, and I only wanted more.

I think Tzuyu could tell by the look on my face that I was really affected by the way she was grinding on top of me. She slowed.

"Are you getting close Oppa?"

I didn't want to change anything about the way we were fucking each other. I lifted my hips to maintain the speed she had established with her own. "Ohhh Oppa... fuck that feels...uh...uhh...good! Are you gonna cum soon?"

"Yes... keep going Tzuyu!"

"Unhh uh," she denied me.

Even though I tried to hold my little sister on top of me, her skin was slippery and slid from my grasp as she gracefully lifted herself from me and my cock abruptly popped from her quim. I cursed as she got to her feet and left me sitting there, deprived of my orgasm.

Again she could tell from the look on my face that I was disappointed. She tried to console me as she stood up and leaned in to kiss my cheek and the corner of my mouth.

"You know we shouldn't Oppa, I told you I wasn't on birth control and we could get in so much trouble." She said with those pleading eyes I loved seeing so much.

"I know Tzuyu," I said, placing both hands on her hips and forcing her to lean against me "and I still want to."

If she was intent on subduing my desire to continue with our incestuous sex and fully consummate the act, she wasn't doing a great job. Even as she tried to talk me out of it, Tzuyu had taken me in her hand and was using the fluids that she'd left on me to slide up and down on my cock. I flinched because I was still close to my climax

"That's bad Oppa... I'm in the middle of my cycle and you still wanna come in my pussy... in your little sister's pussy?"

I only moaned in response.

"I wonder what it feels like," she said, working her hand on my tip and leaning in so I could feel her breath on my ear. "I wonder what it would feel like if you squirted all your sticky cum inside me?"

"Fuck Tzuyu," I swore as she teased me.

"But we can't..." she said, never stopping the movement of her hand, "if you did... if you picked me up and fucked me right now... until your big cock squirted all your sperm in me..."

"Tzuyu, stop..."

"You could get me pregnant, you can't get your little sister pregnant..." she said unrelentingly, "what would mom and dad do?"

I couldn't take it much longer. My naked, teenage little sister was too tempting and her words were giving me visions of her belly showing the signs of our incest.

"If they knew my big brother had cum in my pussy, without any protection...

Oh God that would be so naughty," she whispered while her hips thrust her needy mound against my thigh. "fuck, uhhhh."

It was the adorable sound she made as she spoke that forced me to act.

I grabbed her, hard, standing up from my seat and wrapping an arm around her like a naughty child. I swiftly shouldered the shower door and brought her out into the room. On the floor was a furry looking bath mat: the place where I was going to finish with my little sister.

"Wha...what are you doing!?" she asked as if she didn't already know.

"You know what I'm gonna do Tzuyu..." I said with hungry eyes as I laid her on the ground with a thud. I watched her beautiful tits shake and marveled at her young body laid out for the taking beneath me.

"I'm gonna fuck you like you've been asking for..." I was bound by an animalistic drive, "and then I'm gonna cum in that tight little pussy of yours."

"No... Oppa... I" she stuttered, she looked nervous and cute and I was a million miles away from stopping. "I was just being mean... I didn't think you really wouuOOUUUuHHWWW"

I had kneeled at her entrance and pushed my tip into the tiny slit between her lips before she had even begun to protest. There was no chance her words could reach me now.

"Ouhhhh fuuuck Oppa," she tried to yell, but I covered her mouth with my hand. I didn't want our family to interrupt this last thing I had to do if they heard us.

Tzuyu tried and failed to push me off with both hands on my chest as I slid my cock into her in one steady stroke. Her mouth opened wide and she let out a muffled cry into my hand. I took both of her tiny hands over her head in one of my large ones and weighed down on them as I leaned over her.

Her look was a combined one of dismay and pleasure simultaneously. She tried to wiggle free but only succeeded in stimulating my buried member further. I released my hand from her mouth, her eyes begged me to let her speak.

"Ughhhh... fuck you!" she spat as I thrust into her roughly. Her petite body below me was mesmerizing to watch shake each time our hips connected, "Fuuuuck... ouuhhh owww... I hate you!"

I don't know why I thought it would be a good idea, but I leaned in close to kiss her. Tzuyu let my lips connect for a second and then bit my lip. I tried to pull back but she wouldn't let me go. So I forced my hips even harder against her; my tip found my little sister's cervix and prodded it roughly.

She released her hold on my sore bottom lip and gasped. "Ohhh goooddd," she breathed, "Uhhhfuuuck..."

I daringly darted my tongue to flick her lip as she was distracted. She didn't pull away. I slid my cock out and back into her again, and she let me press my lips to hers. She kept them pursed at first, resisting. So I thrust into her again and felt her jaw loosen. Twice more and she opened her mouth... and then we were making out, forcefully.

It was the hottest, angriest sex I'd ever had, and I was very near cumming in my little sister. I left her hands where they were, restrained above her head and grabbed on to her hips. I needed to hold her tiny pelvis as I prepared to climax.

Her hands stayed above her head for a moment, I could tell she was overcome by the feeling of being so roughly handled by her brother and still dealing with the relentless thrusts I was delivering into her. She looked up at me,

"Don't," she warned, her eyes fierce.

"I won't...ugh..." I said, "If you won't."

I had no idea if I could hold my end, but I was pretty sure that by the way my little sister's body was writhing and squirming in my hands that she would soon be helpless to stop herself cumming.

She darted her hands to my back and dug in, scratching me as I pounded her teenage pussy and desperately tried to withhold until she was overcome. As her fingers raked my skin I knew she'd leave a mark. It only made me fuck her harder, deeper. Her legs we wide and her hair was splayed out on the ground. With each drive, her whole body shook and she could do nothing to prevent her whining as I watched my little sister reach the edge and teeter with wide eyes upon me before she finally toppled.

"Ouuuuuuwhhhh oouuuhhh..." she howled, gasping for breath

Her thighs clenched around my waist and I could feel her heels on my buttocks. Instead of nails, I felt her tiny fingers holding onto my upper arms for dear life.

And then... blackness. I saw stars as I rolled my eyes back and buried into my little sister's vulnerable little pussy. I was glad she was holding me so tight because it grounded me as I began the most prolonged orgasm of my life. I felt my cock swell inside her, and my balls tightened to release the first flood of cum into the warm entrenchment of my little sister's quim. I listened to her squeal, knowing she sensed in as each rope of semen splashed her insides and searched to find the perfect path to her womb.

"Ohmygod...ughhh...I can feel...," my little sister breathed through her orgasm, I could hear the strain in her voice, "I can feel you cumming in me!"

I groaned with excruciating sensation as I withdrew a fraction of an inch and then mashed my hips against Tzuyu again, spouting yet another torrent of sperm into her fertile young pussy. Each time I did, I felt my little sister's body tense and her hands squeeze tightly. Seeing her climax was almost as rewarding as having emptied an incredible amount of seed inside of her.

I still held onto her body tight; the shower still ran relentlessly behind us, and for a few seconds my cock refused to stop emitting its incestuous contents into my baby sister. Even then, I knew that if there was any truth to what Tzuyu had told me, she could be pregnant by the very load that now threatened to seep out of her.

I had collapsed on top of her, still trying to hold myself up so I didn't crush my petite little sister. Her breaths were labored, and mine equally so. I could feel her hands gently draped on my back, and her breasts and midsection hot, damp and mashed against me.

It was an indiscriminate amount of time before Tzuyu rolled us over. I tried to help, but she did most of the work. My cock had refused to soften, so it stayed lodged inside of her as she came to straddle me in the middle of the bathroom floor.

Again, silence. Tzuyu halted in a prominent position, knees bent and surrounding my hips tightly. Her eyes were, at first, focused on the place where my cock remained stuffed into her teenage pussy. Our fluids were eking out of the tautly split lips at her opening. Slowly, my little sister lifted her beautiful blue eyes to me. I watched her intently and met her gaze without a blink or a word.

I knew that look; I'd seen it a million times before. She squinted at me and furrowed her brows, looking angry. I didn't flinch. She tried to glare more intently. But slowly, surely, her pursed lips gave way. She did this when she was trying to pretend she was mad at me but knew she was simply acting.

I took hold of her hips; her eyes following my hands. I could probably fuck the little brunette again right then, but I just wanted to give her a jolt. She was small enough that I could urge her up an inch on my cock before dropping her back onto me. I watched as her whole body cringed.

And then she broke out into a full, gorgeous smile before giggling, though she was trying hard not to.

"You..." she said with her big blues, "are a JERK!"

I laughed outright, "What did I do?" I asked with a drawl.

"Ha!" she scoffed, "Are you fucking serious?"

I just smiled at her. Tzuyu directed her eyes between us to where my manhood stuck proudly up into her channel. I was dreading the moment, but as we watched she began to lift herself up and off of my cock. It felt like it took forever, but when she reached my tip, she paused and looked at me again, knowing what we were about to see.

She freed my head from inside of her, and after a second or two, the white gleam of my sperm showed between her recovering pussy lips. After all the cum I had shot deep into her that was surely now making its way to impregnate her, there was still plenty left that dripped out onto my head and shaft which lingered just below.

"Oh... my... God!" she complained. "Are... you...FUCKING...SERIOUS?!"

Again, that adorable look on her face. I knew she'd be mad, but she couldn't hide her smirk. Some of her had to know that she'd been teasing me into a situation just like this.

"Do you always cum this much?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

"Hmmm..." I pondered, "nahh... only when my little sister's been a cock-tease for about a week."

"Fuck you!" She snapped back, "I should just tell mom and dad that you fucked me... no raped me in the shower and then came in my pussy without a condom or anything!"

"Ha-ha you go ahead, but don't leave out the part where you jerked your brother off while he was taking a nap, or the part where you..."

"Oh shut up!" Tzuyu interrupted, "I'm not gonna tell them anything, because then I'd have to tell them how I'm not gonna take the morning after pill either."

"Wha..." I started, unable to find words. I hadn't thought it through, I might have been turned on by the thought of getting my little sister pregnant, but I thought for sure she'd be against it. I'd filled Tzuyu up with cum without really considering it.

"You heard me, it's, like, terrible for your whole body and I'm not fucking taking it." She said confidently. Then her face changed a little; she bit the corner of her lip and spoke more softly.

"Plus, it makes me really horny thinking about my big brother getting me pregnant..."

My mouth was agape, I must have looked silly.

"You can close that mouth of yours big brother. You are the one who wanted to cum inside me so badly, now deal with it."

And she was right. I had fucked my little sister and spurted my cum into her with full understanding of the risks only minutes ago. And now that I really thought about it, I would do it again.

"Well, you little slut..." Tzuyu gasped and slapped me, I responded slapping her ass with both hands and leaving them there..

"I guess you won't mind then if I fuck you again!"

"Wait... I...no..." She attempted to say as I quickly grasped her and lined up her entrance with my cock. Before she could utter another word I lifted my hips and brought her down so my cock, covered in my overflown cum, was once again buried at home in the eighteen-year-old's pussy

I was overcome by lust, fueled by the thought of filling up my baby sister again, and roused by her defiant attitude and willingness to risk pregnancy. I sat up, bent my knees below me, and cradled Tzuyu's soft little ass in my hands. 

She resisted at first, probably sore from the pummeling of moments before. But her walls were coated in our fluids and my cock slid more easily between them. Before long, Tzuyu was moaning again and complementing my strenuous effort to make love to her. I couldn't drive as deeply into her, but I loved how the two of us worked together to fuck each other like long-lost lovers.

"God I love the way you fuck me," Tzuyu told me.

"I could do this forever sis," I said as we stared into each other's eyes.

"Well how about you just fill me up again... uhhh fuck... for now...ouhhhh...I wanna feel you cum inside me again!"

Like before, we kissed and then made out arduously. My palms stayed locked onto her plump backside, I could tell she was too weak to stay up on her own. And fortunately, before long, I felt the familiar tightening deep within my groin and the following jolt of sensation that would couple my orgasm.

I don't remember if Tzuyu came. I think she did, because I remember her whimpering, practically sobbing as I urged my cock snugly inside of her. As if I had not already done enough, I began adding yet another surge of my forbidden semen to my little sister's laden pussy. It gushed forth and Tzuyu whined as she felt it splatter deep within. I came so hard for the second time that it hurt, and when I was done I nearly tossed my little toy aside for I could hold her no more.

She panted and laughed at the same time, and I watched her as she laid out on the floor. Her opening, outer lips, and the tiny channel within were soon shining with the unruly cum I'd spent into her. Her beautiful body shimmered with sweat and her breasts heaved up and down as she tried to catch her breath.

I heard Tzuyu laughing; she was as shocked at the whole experience as I.

My little sister... laid out... untouched until I'd gotten in the shower with her... and now, if fate would have it, filled twice and made pregnant by her older brother's semen...

I struggled to catch my breath too, and eventually I laid down beside her and took her in my arms. I have no idea how we got so lucky that nobody had come to find us. I'd later find out that our family had been in the pool and nobody was willing to get out and call us down. For if they had, the state they would have found us in would have been... dramatic

"Well that was... interesting." she said when she'd finally come to.

"Just interesting?" I asked

"It was a lot of things Oppa," she continued, "a lot of things I'd like to do again."

I leaned in and kissed her, long and slow.

"Whatever you want little sis, though, maybe we ought to be a little more careful next time."

"Where's the fun in that?" She asked with a naughty smirk.

After that we showered together, playing and touching each other and watching as my cum leaked down my little sister's leg. A couple times she tried to hold the fluid inside of her that kept making its way out, but it was no use. I told her I would love to fuck her again, but she begged me not to as she was too sore from the first two times I had. Instead I simply played with her entire body and we stayed within inches of each other for the duration of the shower.

When we were done, Tzuyu wrapped a towel around herself and peeked out of the bathroom. She checked up and down the hall before whispering to me that the coast was clear. She didn't have an extra towel so I was stark naked, and before I sidled out into the hall, I snagged the towel from her and pinned her against the wall at the entrance to her bedroom.

I kissed her, and she kissed me right back. I held her tight, and she grasped me like she'd never let go. My erection threatened to go right back where it belonged as it poked between us, and she giggled as it prodded her below.

"Get out of here!" she warned.

"Alright alright," I said regretfully.

Of course, I pinned her one last time against the wall and put a hand on her breast and one on her butt while stealing one last kiss. I held her tight as I took her in for the last time in however long it would take to be back at her side. Her tongue lingered beyond her lips as I pulled away and left her wanting at the door.

Just as I made it to my room I heard our father call. "Kids! What the heck are you doing?"

I yelled something about being right down, and he just assumed we'd been texting in our rooms or something of the like. Before I went in the door, I saw Tzuyu step halfway out of her door, daringly, and put one arm over her breasts while biting her finger and one over her pussy. The pose was something out of a dream, and I'd spend every minute of that day remembering it until I found myself once again fucking my little sister senseless.

When we came back downstairs, our family was none the wiser. I watched my little sister swim around playfully and chat with our family, knowing that her little pussy was still filled with my cum, her big brother's cum, even though she was still acting like her usual, innocent self.

"What were you two doing up there?" my mother asked.

"Just taking a quick nap and a shower," Tzuyu answered, smiling my direction when she knew nobody could see "I needed to rest up and get ready to take my big brother like I said I would."

I couldn't believe my ears. I just nodded and acted disinterested; how Tzuyu was able to lie like that, knowing the truth and hiding it perfectly, I just do not understand.

"Think you're up to the challenge after dinner Oppa?" she asked me, "cuz' I'll be ready for you."

I mumbled something and flashed her a very concerned look when she stopped egging me on. She smiled and gave me that naughty look again, knowing that I'd be fucking her senseless just like she was asking me to right in front of our family like it was no big deal.

If only they knew.

I have no idea how long our secret can stay hidden, but I can't help myself around Tzuyu anymore. She's even more insatiable than me, and our dangerous behavior has only gotten worse since we first started up. But, I don't regret one bit the day I decided to be lazy and take a nap in my little sister's room rather than mine. I love Tzuyu more than anything else in the world, and I know we're both glad that we finally became more than just brother and sister on that day. Someday, maybe soon, we both know what might happen: I'll sit by her side and help explain how happy my little sister and I are together, and why we're so excited to be adding another member to the family...when that time comes.

Until then, I'll be spending every minute I can finding out just how naughty my little sister Tzuyu can be... All because of a nap.

[damneddamsy]

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐎 | HARRY CASTILLO

A DECENT THIEF, A SMITTEN BILLIONAIRE, ONE EMERALD RING, A SIMPLE CON JOB, ONE VERY INCONVENIENT ATTRACTION. SEX, LIES, LARCENY—ALL BEFORE THE SUN COMES UP. EASY PEASY... RIGHT?

A.N. -> NO SPOILERS TO MATERIALISTS. This is a ROM-COM done right. Inspired by 'Desperado' by Rihanna. And also, a completely different take on Harry's character than the bullshit he had to deal with, he just has so much potential. I had so much fun writing this 🌻 (as in, 18 straight hours of staring at a word doc, burning my corneas and rubbing my hands like an evil fly. haha I'm actually dyingggg) W.C -> 13k+ C.W -> 18+ MDNI, third person POV, fem reader, thief reader and she's a bad bitch, harry is fucking rich with a big dick that's what, sexual themes, smuuuuuut baby but make it fun :), luxury brand and pop culture references, witty repartee, cat-and-mouse dynamics, romcom everything.

If you think all thieves lurk in shadows wearing black, bless your pedestrian heart—you’ve never seen her steal a thing. And besides, subtlety is overrated. Also, spoiler: she actually preferred furs. Fur, red-bottoms, a little harmless cleavage, and a crimson-lipped grin that says, ‘catch me if you can.’

Now, these businessmen, no matter how adorned from their broad shoulders to their straight cuffs, are exactly what they seem: easy pickings. That is—if you’re content with playing in the minor leagues.

Rookie mistake. You aim for the big leagues, reap the financial rewards, and set your sights on those wearing rings.

The ring is the tell. A man who wears his wealth and dignity on his finger is either married, vain, or a dumbass. Often enough, he’s all three. And a man who wears a ring worth more than your apartment building—and the one next to it? That’s not bait, that’s a goddamn challenge.

And this probably married, definitely vain dumbass made her want to stomp her heels through the marble.

She was supposed to be walking out the door right about now—a smoky, smirking, forgotten memory—with her latest spoils: Tateossian cufflinks, a Chopard Happy Sport, and two crisp hundreds tucked into a Balmain wallet.

She’d earned it. Eeny, meeny, miney, more than endured a full hour and a half of sucky—literally—sloppy neck-kissing and thigh-groping from a receding-hairline gentleman who fancied himself the face of a major hotel chain. Now that face was lying sideways on a lounge table, mouth open, snoring softly into a puddle of $600 Scotch. And she hadn’t even made it past the lobby. Cash on arrival, you could say. Astral forces or coincidence—either way, it had been a full year since Dame Fortune had dropped by her door.

A few touches here, a brush of her wrist there, a shoulder-check, a pat on the cheek—bada-bing-bada-boom—two months’ rent. A dent in the student loans. And a little extra, just for her trouble.

She should’ve called it a night. Then there was this fucking guy.

Mr. Premium-cocktail-without-a-care, lounging like temptation in a custom-cut Ralph Lauren and Zegna shoes. You want to know how much money follows a single glimpse of this man? You start punching in zeroes, and line those fuckers up.

She didn’t lose sight of him even for a second as she quieted her Louboutin soles on the carpet past the velvet curtains into the lobby bar. Here, the ice clinked softer, and the elite laughed quieter. No one poured their own champagne. It was all expensive colognes, curated modesty, and vintage timepieces ticking loud enough to remind her she’d never belong.

And tonight—him.

Seated alone (aw, poor little rich boy), fingers curved around a lowball glass dribbled with condensation. Judging by the burnt orange peel and the blood-toned glint: Negroni. Bold, bitter… how predictable. Almost medieval in its masculinity.

He looked like a statue someone forgot to rope off—half-lit under the frozen-firework chandelier, carved jaw tense, eyes cool and unreadable. His suit, charcoal black, cut so sharp it could split an atom. No tie, studded cufflinks, clean-shaven, but not enough to suggest he was expecting company.

And in a sea of glitz and fakeassery, where every other guest was a fresh Rolex or a hollow trust fund playing dress-up, this one? This man was none of that. There were minnows, jellyfish, the occasional shark... but this motherfucking blue whale was a silent, drifting monolith that out-riched half the Atlantic. And she was ready to cast a wide enough net, even if stitching it for days on end was all it took.

The bartender called him Mister Castillo, the name curling off his tongue, veritable old money dipped in Cuban honey.

She blinked once, then twice.

Castillo. Cast-ee-yo.

Huh. Exciting. Exotic. Never heard of him. And she was very good at knowing people she was supposed to know, which made him even more of a tricky mark.

But then that fucking ring had just made itself her next prize.

Thick, unapologetically gold, crowned with an obscene emerald—the colour of envy, of desire, of high-stakes possession. It whispered legacy, old money, old blood, an item a loving father might hand down to his son. Worn on his right hand, not left—because commitment to women was optional, but commitment to the image was unbreakable.

She hung fire at first, took the long way round the lounge, steps a punctuation for her thoughts, an extra lap through velvet shadows, watching him. Reading him.

Right off the bat, her target was a gorgeous, sun-kissed Grecian god. Late thirties, if she had to guess. Sexiest physique—broad-shouldered, lean in the hips, tall enough to make other men glance sideways. Sinful dark curls, waiting for a manicured hand to tug on them and mess up. A restless ankle tapping to some invisible metronome, presenting an internal tempo she’d kill to sync with. Not a sliver of a smile, just those full, distracted lips, tucked over a neat row of pearl-white teeth.

And what lay between his legs better be a stack of fresh greenbacks or his entire goddamn offshore account, because oy vey—she’d seen her share of oversized Hollywood ego and whispered big dick myths, but she never thought they existed. Jesus, they were real. Sometimes, they walked amongst us, anonymous, brooding solo in a gilded hotel bar.

The results were in: another tired, beautiful, well-endowed man. Bullseye. So what did this one deserve?

A moneyed ingénue? Pass. A spoiled heiress dripping charm? Overdone. A chic art dealer with one too many anecdotes about Venice? Closer, but no.

No, tonight she wanted to be... unmissable. Impenetrable. She would be the dazzling chess piece dropped mid-game, daunted into taking a closer look.

That hadn’t been the case for the last woman who’d approached him in the past three minutes—swiftly intercepted, spun around, and escorted back to her table with stunned, indignant scoffs by a bodyguard stationed less than a yard away, built like a marble column, an earpiece coiled into his collar.

So. Castillo was important. Hot damn.

Maybe a politician or maybe even a crimelord. Honestly, who cared when he looked like that? And for all that—how had she never heard of him? Either way she weighed it, those sons of bitches spilled out of headlines like loose pearls. If he were one of them, she’d have seen the profile, the scandal, the fourth wife in Chanel.

She realised, somewhere between her fifth glance at the back of his neck and the slow burn of hour-old-white-wine in her gut, that she was only dragging this out. For what? A better angle? A cleaner exit?

She wanted him to see her, and not in the metaphorical way poets meant—she wanted his eyes. She wanted the recognition.

And the truth was that the sight of him was turning her into smoke. Thick, ribboning, deliciously absurd smoke. So, she might as well put the fire out herself. Or at least throw more gasoline on it. Whichever worked.

She straightened, traipsing past low-lit booths and lower morals, the air around her reeking of rumoured secrets and the spice of Creed Aventus. Her fur coat dragged the dusk with her, the black silk slip beneath flirted with every bulb overhead, while the slit at her thigh played hide-and-seek with lace and sharp intentions. She was the whole damn production. Flash of leg. Flash of steel.

Upon reaching the bar, she slid into a seat one down from him—close enough to be noticed, distant enough to play disinterest. That sweet spot that begged curiosity without costing power.

The coat slipped off, one less layer between her and the moment, and it had been trained—trained to fall, trained to seduce. But then—

Everything moved in a single blink.

Two shadows, flanking, closing in from either side, en route to check. Earpieces. Fast, trained, and quiet, that always came before a very loud takedown. Her instincts tensed, reflexes flickering: eyes on the back exit, how she could make it there in four seconds flat—

But before she even had to brace, before her pulse spiked, the man—Castillo—lifted a hand. Just a flick. Barely even a gesture.

And the shadows fell back, evaporated, melting into the gold-trimmed corners like good little dogs trained to obey.

She let out a breath she hadn’t meant to hold. Phew, she thought. She really didn’t feel like ending up zip-tied in a body bag tonight.

The good news was, she’d just passed her first test, and he hadn’t even looked at her yet.

Her lips curled minutely. She set her elbows on the bar, angling her body in that curated way, just enough to show off the right curves, the lune of her spine, the shape of her ass—all half-bored, half-bored-with-a-purpose. Every molecule of her screaming, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, and isn’t that unfortunate for you.

Now here came the fun part. Playtime.

She flagged the bartender with two fingers and a smile that had gotten her out of far worse.

“Rusty Nail and two shots of tequila, please.” The freshly stolen hundred-dollar bill skimmed across the bar with the grace of a ballerina and the indifference of a bribe.

She smiled at him, lashes batting like the wings of an expensive butterfly. “Keep the change. Thanks, sweetie.”

The bartender blinked. People didn’t usually tip like that unless they were drunk or trying to impress. She was neither.

To her, life was about redistributing wealth—ideally while looking this hot doing it. It didn’t always have to be her wealth, not technically. From the rich, to the clever, to the ones who just seemed like they could use a little extra—she played the part, took the cut, passed it along. Redistribution with flair.

“Ma’am,” the bartender said, voice barely concealing his awe. “Coming right up.”

And then—finally—she turned to her enigma.

He had thawed because now, the gorgeous ice sculpture wore the suggestion of a smirk. A mouth made for terrible decisions curled at the edge as though he knew all her secrets and wasn’t judging. Yet.

Her first instinct? Run. Her second? Double the fuck down. This man, who’d probably grown an empire on poker faces, read hers in under thirty seconds.

“Feeling generous?” he asked.

His voice—good lord—it got under her skin like velvet poured over sandpaper. A silken drawl soaked in wet, hot caramel. The goosebumps on her skin were an obvious giveaway, and her legs crossed unintentionally.

She forced herself to play it casual, leaning her chin into her palm as if she were a woman who had nowhere better to be. “Especially tonight.”

Her drinks arrived, lined up like loyal foot soldiers, and the tequila hit the bar with a theatrical flourish and a pricey wink from the bartender. She dragged her cocktail glass toward her lips, not breaking eye contact, not giving him the pleasure of her full attention, ready to take the first sip when he hit her with—

“Or did old Billings not deserve the hundred as much as the bartender?”

She nearly inhaled the drink. Her brain split in two—half processing the drink’s cost, the other shouting what the actual fuck. But because her reflexes screamed to defend, she swallowed, industriously, the way one would swallow a really sharp insult. Well, she wasn't new to that.

She faced him, properly now, eyes narrowed in amused disbelief.

Oh, he was sharp. Old, but sharp.

Then, as if she weren’t even a threat worth standing for, he rose, unhurried, shoulders rolled beneath his jacket in one fluid ripple. He did the thing men do when they don’t button their coat—deliberately, arrogantly—and walked the three steps to the seat beside her. The shortening distance only crescendoed the goosebumps on her skin.

His knee grazed hers as he sat down beside her, and she felt the contact echo up her spine like a bassline.

He leaned back, turning to her fully, claiming space without apology. She was certain this man had been worshipped before. He obviously wanted to make no fuss with that when he gestured lazily to the nearest shot.

“That for me?”

Goddamn it, he caught her drift. All too familiar with it. Oh, this guy didn’t just play, he collected gilded fucking trophies.

She tilted her head, thoughtful, not giving him the win. “Two hundred.”

His hand paused, brows lifting. “For a shot? Pretty steep ask.”

“Billings didn’t deserve the two hundred bucks.”

His mouth twitched again. “Who are you to decide?”

“You know how it is,” she said airily, fingers brushing her cocktail. “He fumbled the bag. I picked it up. Capitalism, heard of it?”

That earned her a laugh. Deep. Rough. Stupidly attractive. A laugh she would accidentally rote-learn and dream about later when she was in bed with someone else.

He scratched his temple with one slow finger—enough to flash the ring again. That exquisite, infuriating ring. She was no kleptomaniac, but she was reading some signs tonight.

“So,” he said. “You won’t even deny it.”

She smiled with her teeth. Catlike. “What can I say? Sometimes the universe makes executive decisions—and I just follow orders.”

“And who’s pulling your strings?”

“I’m more of a free agent, though I have my own reasons for playing along,” she drawled, popping her lips.

His eyes searched hers for a long moment—more clinical than flirtatious. Then he leaned in, his voice dropping half an octave.

“Now, you’ve got me lined up—what’s your play? Charm me, crush me, or cut me loose?”

Oh. Well. Shit. But what irked her more was that he was expecting her to fold and kneel like some desperate fool. Not a chance in emerald heaven.

The smile slipped from her lips—but only to reassemble, sharper, colder, with twice the wickedness and indifference. She leaned in, just enough for their chests to brush, breathing in the scent that clung to him: bergamot, crisp, fresh like banknotes, tangled with heat and velvet. Maison Francis? Jean Paul Le Castillo?

She couldn't give two shits anymore. What mattered was the truth in his words—he was a mark. Just another mark. You know what would be funny? If his name was ‘Mark.’ Talk about aligned stars.

Rather, her sharp finger traced a soft line down the strong ridge of his nose.

“Oh, honey, all three,” she purred. “You’re my retirement plan.”

If that line rattled him, tipped his balance, he didn’t show it. He just tilted his head a fraction, chewing the inside of his cheek to fight a smirk like she’d just said something cute. Cute, for fuck's sake. That was new. And slightly offensive. If anything, he leaned in a breath closer—her red lips now a whisper from the tip of his nose.

Well. She did always have a thing for brave men with stupid impulses.

“In that case,” he murmured, low enough to be indecent, “you’ll want to give that watch back. I’m not exactly hurting for time.”

Her mental playbook skipped a beat. These moves? These flirtations, the very presence of her? They’d killed with a 99.9% success rate. And yet—

He was the 0.01%. In her life, and in the flesh.

His breath danced against her mouth—warm, spiced, all sin. His eyes, dark as midnight ink, watched her with that unreadable calm that meant he already had an answer to a question she hadn’t asked yet.

She offered her most innocent smile. “Which watch?”

Now that was bait, and she was proud of it. She knew how to pick a mark—but he was starting to feel like a match.

Before she could finish a sip, his hand lifted. First to her chin—just a touch, a direction, a swish of the stunning emerald—then lower, big, soft fingertips drifting along the curve of her neck like he had all the time in the world. It was intimate, yes, but worse—it was confident. A languor that predators used just before they pounced.

And then the other hand moved to her waist. Ah, so that was the game. No sudden grabs or cheap tells. Just proximity, pressure—and gravity pulling her into a choice.

To anyone watching, they probably looked like lovers. Or worse: like a husband and mistress on a regular date night. Which, in this city, was practically tradition.

While her pulse tried to find its way back to a normal rhythm, the smug bastard reached deeper in. Her lips parted, his brows sloped in amusement. He slipped his hand into the folds of her... faux mink—and surfaced with a familiar glint of gold, his knuckles grazing her waist like he’d paid for the privilege.

“This watch,” he murmured, all victorious and amused, lifting the Chopard into view like a magician pulling a rabbit from her cleavage.

Okay, that was a mindless attempt on his part. She didn't show it—she was too experienced for that.

She stuck out her bottom lip, a perfect little faux-pout. “Oh.”

“Didn’t deserve that either?”

She gave a light shrug, eyes flicking to his working jaw. Probably with the restraint of not dragging her to a more private conversation.

“Old Billings spent most of our evening convincing me his Cadillac had reclining seats, that he had a penthouse if I preferred vertical real estate, and—my personal favourite—that his artificial hip could rotate 180 degrees. Figured I need added compensation.”

He wrinkled his nose.

“Yeah,” she said. “I thought so, too.”

There was a beat of loaded silence between them, just long enough for her to decide to play a little dirtier.

“I really, really need you to understand that I…”

And with that, she slipped her ankle up the inside of his pant leg—delicate, methodical, just suggestive enough to distract without giving anything away. She watched it register in his body, the stillness, the knowledge she was still in control. The way his breath faltered for a fraction of a second. The tiniest tension in his thigh.

Then—while he was preoccupied with the very important inches of him she wasn’t touching—she gently pried his hand off her neck and placed a second watch into his palm.

“I thought you meant this watch,” she finished.

He blinked, eyes flicking down to his hand—and then to the beloved watch nestled there. Audemars Piguet. He hiked his sleeve up to reveal his bare wrist. No Audemars Piguet.

His expression flashed. For a heartbeat, genuine surprise cracked the perfect glass mask he wore. And oh, how delicious that was.

Zero fucking clue when she’d taken it. But she had, and it had been laughably too easy.

She turned away before he could collect his scattered little wits, spun back on her stool with feline grace, and plucked up her cocktail. The sip-stirrer spun between her teeth as she smiled into the clinking glass like she hadn’t just pickpocketed a man worth enough to fund a coup.

He exhaled behind her. A low, almost breathless laugh. “Jesus, you keep me on my toes.”

And she kept her eyes on her drink, swirling her glass, smugness curled into her spine. Her heart, however, was thudding. A pleasure so sharp she hadn't felt in months.

He fastened his watch back on with effortless precision, as if the stolen moment hadn’t unnerved him at all. But she’d seen it in his pupils, dilated for just a flicker too long, and in the slight drag of his liquor breath.

“That won’t be the last time tonight, will it?” he asked.

And now, finally, she turned—the game levelling up—letting the full consequence of her grin land like a challenge.

“Depends on whether you plan to undress me. Or just negotiate a better security team.”

A single brow arched. “You really think I’d sleep with a thief?”

She spoke into her straw, “And here I thought you were desperate.”

He angled his head, eyeing her as if she were a puzzle that might explode if solved too quickly. “Hm. Charming.”

“Oh, please,” she said, shaking her head, eyes glittering with mischief. “I’m persuasive. Charming is for people who wear pearls and apologise for orgasming first.”

That startled a laugh out of him, just a soft breath—barely there. But she caught it.

He leaned forward slightly. “So this is your play. You cosy up to men in designer, sweet-talk your way into their wallets, leave them with crushed egos and significantly lighter pockets?”

She traced the rim of her glass with a manicured nail, her gaze not leaving his. “If you’re lucky, that’s all I leave you with.”

He studied her. “And if I’m unlucky?”

She smirked. “You’ll never forget me.”

His tongue pressed into his cheek again. “You’re so certain I won’t turn you in.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you were going to do that, you wouldn’t be sitting this close. You’d be signing forms, talking to Officer Hardass Number Forty-Two, and making a statement about your poor, ravaged emotional trauma.”

He smiled. It was dangerous on him—sharp at the corners. “Oh, I am emotionally traumatised. That watch you nicked off me was one out of the three ever made.”

Be still, my traitorous, beating vagina, she thought. And that magically enhanced third leg of his—was it a limited edition, too? If so, she needed to bring out the big guns.

She tilted her head, slow and feline. “Well, I’d have to console you. Probably by sitting on your face.”

He blinked once. Visibly.

She stirred her drink once, then leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper like it was just between them and the velvet dark. “Let’s be honest. If you really wanted Billings’ watch back, you would’ve demanded it the second I sat down. Instead, you tested me and played.”

She let that hang.

“Which tells me,” she added, “you’re not here for justice.”

“Definitely not,” he murmured, his voice suddenly hoarser than before.

“Mhm. You’re bored. You want me for the kicks.”

The way she said it, he knew he was already too deep. Her words moved like smoke: evocative, listless, curling around the edges of his constraint. His eyes dipped to her collarbone, her shoulder, her motionless thigh as it crossed over the other, the little peekaboo of the lace stocking catching the amber lights.

“Are we going upstairs,” she asked simply, “or are we having this entire conversation without your hands on my tits?”

Silence. A beat. Then two. She only grinned at him, teeth set on her straw suggestively.

He hung his head for just a moment—as though he needed a second to recalibrate. Or maybe to hide the smirk whittling its way across his mouth. When he looked up again, his dark eyes flashed, a little less amused.

Wordless, he slid one of the shot glasses toward her with two fingers, then reached for the other himself. Deciphering his inclination, they knocked the rims together in a soft clink.

“To boredom,” she cheered.

“And not-so-cheap thrills,” he triumphed.

They tipped them back in sync, the tequila burning down her throat, fast and sharp. She swallowed, licked her lip slowly, watching the way his throat bobbed, the way he adjusted his cufflinks with the grace of someone preparing for battle—not sex.

Then he stood, straightened his already-perfect jacket, tugged once at the hem, and offered his kingly hand to her.

She stood of her own accord, shoulder brushing his as she leaned in to murmur near his ear, breath tracing the line of his jaw. “You better have a penthouse suite waiting,” she murmured. “It’s the least I deserve if I promise not to do anything stupid tonight.”

He gave the barest tilt of his head, eyes burning. “You’re just the prettiest little liar, aren’t you?” A pause. A half-smile. A yearned release. “I was hoping for a more insightful breakfast later.”

Her lip caught between her teeth—just briefly, reflexively. Delightful. Penthouse suite. Hotel breakfast. Her weekend was off to a great start.

His suave grin or lethal gaze didn't break even as he flicked his wrist to gesture to someone behind her.

From the shadows, security materialised once more—clinical gazes, efficient, precise. Two of them, lean and suited, eyes scanning her from habit rather than hostility.

He rifled through the inner pocket of his jacket and snagged a sleek black card—no numbers, just the embedded insignia of something far more exclusive than a Visa. He handed it to the taller guard with a calm, “Her pick. Thanks.”

“Sir,” the guard nodded and spoke into a mic clipped inside his lapel.

The moment flew into surreality—muted commands, invisible systems moving around her. She watched the transaction unfold, the way reality seemed to bend to his will. There was no front desk, no credit hold, and no keycard handed over. Ching, ching, ching—the dollar signs rolled up within the imaginary slot machines in her head.

A final nod from his lackey crew, and it was done. Her eyes twinkled with the beginnings of a grin.

Well, then. That was too damn easy.

Only now did she take his hand, the one with the inordinate emerald ring, feeling the curve of the metal, folding her fingers in, as though it had been her idea all along.

“You always carry that much power on you?” she asked, stepping in beside him as they turned toward the elevators.

“Only when I plan to be stripped of it later,” and he shot her a wink.

Her laugh came, unexpected and soft. And this time, she didn't hide her grin.

As they entered the elevator, the doors whispered shut, and for a brief moment, she knew—this was a checkmate.

Here’s what you really needed to know about first-name-still-unknown Castillo: boy, can he kiss.

The man could kiss as if he were meant to wreck religion. It wasn’t sweet, or even aggressive—it was hunger, six-foot-all-male arched and soldered to her lips with intention, with certainty that he was going to fuck hard tonight. One hand fastened in her hair, the other fumbling behind him for the bedroom door handle as if the whole city were plotting to interrupt them. She barely registered the luxuriant flash of the penthouse behind his broad shoulders: the wet bar gleaming like something out of a Bond set, the marble floors glowing under dimmed designer lighting, the magnanimous kitchen, the terrace doors flung open to reveal Manhattan glittering like an unfurled circuit board.

All of it—opulence, skyline, good sense—blurred at the edges as her resolve melted beneath his wicked mouth. She’d come for a ring and a job, and somehow ended up consumed. And probably... coming, too. Let's see how it goes.

She vaguely recalled thinking, Well, at least security’s off tonight, before he kicked the door shut behind him, and she surged up into him like she’d been waiting all year, tearing that blazer off his shoulders.

At some point—maybe while his hand mapped the grooves of her spine, maybe while his mouth drifted lower in slow worship—he broke the rhythm long enough to mumble against her skin.

“You gotta... tell me... something first.”

“Clean bill of health. IUD’s locked and loaded,” she hummed knowingly, arching into his mouth as it brushed her clavicle.

He spoke through a mouthful of a kiss. “Appreciate the intel, but I meant to ask if you’re past eighteen.”

She tossed her head back to giggle as his lips moved over her collarbone. “That’s your cutoff? I should be the one calling the cops.”

“It’s called chivalry, sweetheart. A gentleman doesn’t ask a lady her age.”

“Checking ID is where you draw the line, not bringing a potential criminal into your bed.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“And names?” she shot back, lips brushing his jaw.

He smirked against her throat, voice molten. “I like not knowing anything.”

And it struck her—unexpectedly—of course he did. It was great for her, too. Not knowing her made this cleaner. She was all curves, sex, and invitation, faceless by design. No backstory or entanglement. No real name to trace or recall in the morning—just a woman who walked out of a fur coat and into his bed like a loaded question.

She didn’t move as he kissed lower, slower, charting his route down her sternum. Her eyes drifted to the gold trim of the ceiling above them, but her mind was sprinting elsewhere. Letting sex overrule a job? Not her usual MO. It was too messy, came bearing vulnerability. Intimacy, or really world-shattering sex, in her experience, shattered deceit like glassware, and she needed the lie to keep him seeing her as the sleek, unbothered woman who stole his watch and then made him laugh about it.

She didn’t need his guard down. She needed hers up.

And still, she arched into his mouth as though he were the one writing her name in cursive across her skin, still let herself ache for this brief, hot moment she earned with cleverness.

“For the record,” she whispered, breath catching as his hand skimmed beneath the hem of her thigh-high, “I’m well past twenty-one.”

He lifted his head just enough to glance at her, shadows tucked beneath his lashes, and gave a dry, approving smile. “For the record, I believe that.”

There was a joke in there about experience and knowing better, but her throat closed around it. She did know better, and she was still about to make this mistake with goddamn choreography.

Then, without another word, he ducked low, scooped her up in a single agile motion, and threw her over his shoulder like a victorious hunter returning home with his spoils. She shrieked only to be defeated by a laugh in half-lust.

“Down, boy!”

His big hand came down on her ass for a sound slap. “Behave.”

“Oh, hey, kinda loving my view right now,” she called out, swaying upside-down, giving his admittedly perfect ass a firm squeeze.

He didn’t miss a beat. “More than the skyline?”

“More than the view from the Ritz bathtub, baby.”

“High praise. I like that.”

She landed on the bed with a soft, lavish oof, her hair splayed like a halo, silk dress skating up her thighs. Before she could even prop herself on her elbows, he was over her again—mouth returning to hers, fingertips under her hem, tracing the garter, teasing the edge of her panties with that kind of reverence that made her almost forget her exit strategy.

Then, just as he lowered his head between her thighs, her Louboutin heel planted right between his pecs. A gentle nudge of a reminder.

He paused, blinked, looked up from her foot to her suspecting face—brows raised like a schoolboy caught halfway through a particularly delicious crime.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m...” he tilted his head with exaggerated innocence, “going to make you come on my tongue?”

She pressed her pointed heel in deeper, just to make a point. “Yeah, let’s not skip to the part where I forget your name and my standards.”

His grin spread wider, unfazed, overjoyed even. Smug fucker.

She leaned up on her elbows, her voice syruped with challenge. “I’d rather have you come inside me. With me.”

He let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Jesus. What is this, male-finagling 101?”

“Call it negotiation. You want a headliner? Play by house rules.”

He crawled forward with a surrendered sigh, mouth brushing her knee on the way up. Rather, he took her ankle—gently—and began to guide it upward, eyes never leaving hers. The slide of her calf along his shoulder was idle, confident, and territorial.

“Something tells me you are the house.”

“Damn right I am,” she muttered, yanking him in by the collar. “And you’re already losing chips.”

By the time her heel rested behind his neck, he was already smiling again. “Trust me, sweetheart, I can afford it.”

His words sent a short-circuit of dysfunctions sparking through her system. Lust, amusement, danger, maybe a little bit of deranged curiosity. Her body felt like a pressure cooker wrapped in silk. She watched him lean in again, kiss slow and deft, like he was tasting victory already.

She curled her fingers in his hair—his freaking curls—and angled him deeper into the lazy kiss. The way it gave under her touch, thick and dark and sinfully plush, felt like the luxury version of every shitty knockoff she’d tolerated before. This was a rich man’s hair. This was what money bought, not the thinning, brittle kind that came with executives and artificial virility—those were all coconut-head kisses: stiff, unyielding, mildly tragic. This was investment-grade.

Her hands flew to his shirt buttons with greedy precision, undoing, untucking, peeling away the crisp cotton. He shrugged the shirt off and let it fall somewhere past the horizon of the room. She couldn’t look anywhere but at him.

This goddamn man was all ridged muscle and splendid heat, a living sculpture carved by a person deeply horny and well-compensated. Her eyes wandered without apology, drinking him in. Shoulders broad enough to make furniture obsolete, that weathered tan etched into skin like he’d been born in a Marlboro ad, and that V-cut—the infamous, fabled V muscle that you would only acquire with months on a BowFlex—was practically rude. It announced, with a golden arrow from Olympus saying, ‘Please direct your gaze below,’ and that was until he reached down, opened his fly and—

“Holy fuck.”

His face dropped to honest concern, searching her from head to toe. “Something wrong?”

She looked back at his eyes and tried, sincerely, to find shame and failed. “Sorry. No, really. Wow, congrats.”

His brow rose, faintly amused. “Thanks.”

She squinted back at the enormity between his legs. That was no big dick. For every twig, there was a trunk. For every soft peach, there was a firm cucumber. And finally, for every tight space that she had in her body, that was the perfect fit.

“Hang on, I’m just... recalibrating my entire worldview,” she breathed.

“Take your time. He is a shower.” He curved his arms around her thighs and dragged her closer, amused. “Now, should I be flattered or concerned?”

She pointed, unabashed. “You’re breaking zoning laws. That should be registered as a private landmark.”

He couldn’t hold back the smirk. “My penis is a landmark?”

She shook her head solemnly. “Seriously, dude, if you try shoving that in my mouth, I’m gonna need a neck brace and dental insurance. It’s not that subtle.”

He huffed, mock-exasperated, dipping back toward her as she bit her lip to contain a laugh. “Well, neither are you. Seriously, dude, why don’t you just walk beside me with a bullhorn tomorrow?”

She grinned. “Touché.”

And she wanted it all.

She wanted him to wreck her perpetually laid-out life in the shape of whorish moans. She wanted the kind of orgasm that felt like a cathedral collapsing, that made her forget what city she was in, what she was wearing, even what she’d meant to acquire tonight—because who gave a shit about emerald rings when your thighs were trembling like this?

He sank to his knees at the edge of the bed, his rough hands oh-so-warm as he found her ankles, coasting upward, willful. Her heels came off one by one with a reverent slide and dropped somewhere with two clicks. He raised a brow at the stockings—black, sheer, goddamn expensive—and made a face like, ‘those stay.’ Smart man.

While his mouth claimed hers again—wide, possessive, coaxing more of her soul out with each pass of tongue—his fingers found the zipper at the base of her spine. He worked it off her like he’d earned the right; he wasn’t just removing fabric, but unveiling a scripture.

The dress fell away, the only flimsy fabric separating them now. Bared, exposed before him.

“Look at you,” he murmured, and then tilted his head skyward, like the ceiling might offer some divine explanation. “Where’ve you been hiding this?”

The smile that bloomed on her lips was ridiculous. “Right where no one bothered to look.”

He was just… devotion, that made her forget every well-earned cynicism she’d armed herself with. That look he gave her—it was like someone seeing the night sky for the first time.

Every woman deserved this at least once, to be gazed at like a divine revelation. Especially by this man.

And when he came down between her breasts and buried his face there—kissing, biting, mouthing, trailing warmth over the softness—and she catalogued.

Every graze of his mouth on the swell of her breast became a snapshot, every drag of his stubble a burn she’d wear like jewellery. His lips ghosted along her skin in an obedience, and that made it worse—better. She kept her eyes on the ceiling, needing somewhere to focus on before she melted into goo.

It was becoming harder to separate pleasure from power, and harder still to remember which one she usually wielded.

Her fingers found his cheekbones, traced the topography of him like a blind woman trying to remember a face she wasn’t supposed to fall for. His thin stubble, coarse, dark, scratched and scalded her in the best way.

She’d despised facial hair on men. Always. Until she decided that his goddamn moustache deserved its own novella. Every time it flicked across her nipple, her body jolted like a live wire. It was filthy what that thing's pornographic implications were. Filthy, what she wanted from it.

She stroked the curve of his upper lip with a fingertip, and he caught her hand in his, kissed the pad of her finger, drew it slowly into his mouth. His tongue curled around it, wet and obscene, eyes on hers the entire time. Then he let it go with a pop so lewd, she had to bite her lip to stop a moan.

“You gotta let me taste you, baby,” he rasped. “If your tits taste this good...” His breath ghosted over her skin. “I can’t imagine your sweet pussy.”

She burst into laughter, spirited, ruined. “I did say I’d sit on your face,” she replied, lifting a brow.

He grinned. “Look at me, I’m a man grieving.”

“Hm. Not in the mood anymore.”

His groan was practically theatrical—but his fingers didn’t wait for applause. They slipped between her thighs, bypassing preamble entirely, right past silk and into soaked, desperate heat.

Conversation stopped.

All her clever little barbs, her glib charm, her velvet one-liners lay dead. Obliterated by the first stroke of his fingers inside her. Her brain went static. White-noise pleasure. A hiss of disbelief.

All the sharpness and swagger she’d carried into the suite dimmed under the slow, deliberate pressure of his hand. Precision. Intention. Like he already knew exactly how she’d fall apart.

She tried to say something, anything. Tried to land one last jab. But all she could do was breathe around his long, fantastic fingers—wide-eyed, hands fisted into the pillow behind her, lips parted, staring up at the gold-leaf ceiling like it might explain her undoing. In, out, in, out... then came the thumb.

And then—the fucking ring.

She felt the metal graze her inner thigh, the cool edge of the gold where it pressed to her skin. Sharp contrast to his heat. And then—Jesus fucking Christ—it dragged. Subtle, sluggish, just enough to remind her her prize was there.

That gorgeous, thick emerald, gold band, tasteful, heavy and fuck, so out of place between her legs.

Or maybe not.

Because when he curled his fingers just right and his thumb pressed in deeper—when he let the gold nudge her, roll slightly against her wetness—her whole body arched like a drawn bow.

He felt her react. Any dumbass would've known, he wasn't that special.

His thumb stayed at the ready, steady pressure circling her clit—but the gem, that fucking gem, shifted again. Cool gold and the sharp cut of emerald dragged leisurely through the slick between her folds, catching where she was wettest, where she throbbed for friction. It was intentional. Calculated. A little cruel, to be honest.

Her body jerked, hips twitching, a powerless gasp yanked straight from the base of her spine—high-pitched, fractured. That ring shouldn’t have turned her on or feel owned. But could a material girl help it?

He looked down at her, mouth curved just enough to betray pleasure, but not enough to give her satisfaction.

“Oh, you like that?” he murmured—just wicked enough to feel intimate. “Huh, you like the way my ring feels on you?”

She wanted to say no. Wanted to sneer, to roll her eyes, to make a joke about being allergic to sentiment or emeralds or anything that felt vaguely like trust. Instead, she bit her bottom lip like it might keep her dignity in place, but it really did not, and—

She nodded. Tiny. Shaking. Needy.

So he rewarded her.

He slowed his strokes, so infuriating, so obscene, and let the ring do the work. Rolled the emerald flat against her clit, then angled it up, letting one of the faceted edges skim across her slit, grazing nerves that had no business being teased like that. Precise. Punishing.

And it lit her the fuck up.

She should’ve hated what it meant—that she wanted something so material, so glittering and male. That this thing—a token of wealth, probably from a wife or a mistress long since discarded—was turning her slick and pliant and desperate beneath him.

God, she craved it.

That ring was everything she didn’t get to have. Status. Opulence. Being touched like treasure.

It was proof of power. And right now, she clearly wanted to be fucked by it.

She wanted it pressed deeper. She wanted it shoved into her mouth next, to taste the gold and the salt of her own arousal and watch his eyes go dark with the knowledge that she liked it. That it wasn’t just sex—it was starvation. It was his want and hers.

Tension spiralled hard and fast, gathering in her abdomen. One wrong stroke, one more whisper, and she'd shatter with her slick clinging to it like a goddamn offering.

And still, he was watching her—all darkly pleased. Reading her confession in real time. Every moan, a comma. Every shiver, a pause in the syntax of her unravelling.

This wasn’t a play for the upper hand or a con. It was relinquishing. And maybe, the part that terrified her most—being known.

That, in itself, was a wake-up call.

So she cudgeled the horny out, pushed him off her with her purpose, let him fall back into the pillows, trousers still hanging indecently low on his hips, cock straining upward like it had its own agenda. For a second, he just looked at her—half-dazed, wholly starstruck.

She climbed on top with a panther's grace and rolled her hips. Just once. Just to feel the obscene friction of silk against her bare, wet slit. The contact made her gasp—all unmasked—and his answering groan was deep, surprised, like she’d just given him the ultimate divulgence.

Then, like the devil himself, he brought his fingers—her slick still coating them—to his mouth. Sucked them in with a hum, as if tasting a rare libation, expensive and exclusively his.

“Christ,” he murmured. “You taste like a dream.”

She didn't have it in her to rejoinder. He was distractingly hard beneath her, so hard it was criminal. Big, big, big man. The feel of him even contained through the barrier of his boxers had her knees nearly give out.

“Gonna kill me,” he muttered, voice hoarse, stunned.

Funny, that was her line.

“Good,” she whispered, leaning in until her mouth brushed his. “Then I won’t need to fake my name.”

He laughed, dazed, ravenous, eyes drinking her in. “Ah, what the hell,” he breathed. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

For half a second, her mind blanked. What was her name? What was any name? She had to have a name ready for him. How was she so unprepared?

Then, she made up her mind: “Eve,” she said, because one, it was cool, two, sweet biblical references, and three, what a fun little palindrome.

He tested the word on that naughty tongue. “Eve. The first woman.”

She tilted her head, gave him a wicked little smile. “Gotta start somewhere,” she murmured—still perched above him, all wit and velvet, more dangerous than that: ease.

She reached between them. Even after staring for three more moments, the sheer size of him—thick, heavy, curved just enough to ruin. Her mouth opened slightly, involuntarily, but she didn’t make a sound. She absorbed it.

She gripped him, slowly, trifling—more an assessment than a stroke. His cock kicked in her palm, already leaking, and his jaw went slack.

“You got a license for this thing, sir?” she purred in a tease, still staring down like she was reading a classified document.

“I was grandfathered in,” he said through gritted teeth. “Now be a good girl and fuck me.”

And for a breath, a single heartbeat, she let herself feel it. Just once.

His hands, strong and solid at her hips, slid up the line of her torso as if to memorise the arch there. He waited for her, no rushing, no seizing the moment to flip her over and take control.

She leaned forward, kissed him at her leisure. And again, just to be sure it wasn’t a fluke. That made her forget where her body ended and his began. Her fingers curled against his chest, dragging over the soft smattering of dark hair there, nails teasing. His breath hitched.

It was ridiculous how good this felt. Big dick or not, he was fucking fantastic.

And that was the thing. She’d never trusted fantastic feelings; they were distractions. Weak spots. She’d spent ages compartmentalizing pleasure like it came with a damn invoice. Oh, this wasn't that. There were no transactions left (except, er, maybe one) or power plays she had to look out for.

This was two people choosing to fuck like they’d never see each other again. And for once, that felt like a relief, not a regret.

She lined him up with a maddening delay, hips angling just right, and when she sank down—Jesus, it was a stretch. Her breath faltered, lips parted. Head tilted back. Hands braced on his chest as she took him—the world churning to liquid around her.

She took him inch by gentle, conscious inch, and the fullness knocked the wind out of her. She paused halfway, chest heaving, stretched to her capacity.

“You okay, beautiful?” he asked, hands steadying her thigh.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Just… Christ.”

He gave a strained laugh. “I’ve been called worse.”

She braced herself, inhaled, levelled her knees on either side of his hips, and took the rest of him.

All the way down.

The shock of it punched through her, and the moan that followed was nothing like the others—it was scraping, involuntary, from the deepest part of her.

“Omigodomigodomigod,” she chanted, barely.

“Shit,” he growled, “you’re gonna make me come just watching you do that.”

“Baby, you have got to last longer than that,” she managed.

It can't have been a concurrency. It was vulgar, how flawless he fit inside her. How her body opened for him, swallowed him like it had been waiting for this.

The nasty fucking sounds he made—soft curses, a low-throated groan, the broken “Jesus fucking Christ” against her neck—they conducted volts of electricity down her spine.

She rolled her hips once, testing the weight of him, the stretch, the slick pressure as he filled up that fragment of space so deep within her she didn't know needed to be freed.

Their eyes held for a glorious moment, engraved an intrigue between the lines, as their breaths fused in the intensifying silence. 

Finally, she moved again—tentatively at first, recalibrating, learning the shape of this body, its responsiveness, its heat. Then purposeful. Hips circling in uneven figure-eights, savouring every drag of him along her walls. The friction, the angle—it was unmistakable. Her clit brushed the hard plane of his pubic bone with each motion, and the sensation throbbed through her with the symphony of the dirtiest choir of angels.

Her hair clung to her skin, damp with sweat. Her thighs trembled. She adjusted again, finely tuned the roll of her hips as though she were a safecracker aligning the final dial. Listening, calculating, cracking open something far more intimate than a vault.

And in those strokes, she realized: man, this fucking was nice.

Disarming enough to take her off guard. Not flowers-and-pillow-talk nice—but it was strange how his eyes never left hers. In the way he breathed through his teeth when she clenched around him.

Nice, for someone like her, felt impossible. She didn’t get this. She got fancy hotel rooms with poor lighting and overpriced minibars. She got transactional glances, pickpocketed her forgettable flings, and sex that didn’t leave bruises but didn’t leave memories either. She got mornings when she slipped out before the sheets cooled, before they could question what her name was.

This gorgeous man under her, with his big wallet and his even bigger cock, sweat-slicked and broad-chested, dark curls matted against the pillow, hands reverent on her hips—this was selfish memory-making. A reward, maybe. A cosmic oversight in her favour. A divine fuck-up.

And god, what a man. She loathed giving him that vestige of power, but really—wow.

She slowed just to look.

There was heat in his gaze, sure—but also awe. He looked at her like she was the miracle, not the other way around. Chest heaving, abs taut, thighs twitching. There was a line of sweat down his temple that she wanted to lick. Insane, disgusting, but wild.

She leaned forward to do just that, and he kissed her sternum like it was instinct, then moved up—mouthing her breast, sucking just hard enough to draw a gasp from her. She ground down in response, shivering as her clit caught again, the rhythm quickening. She was so wet now, slick, soaked, that it felt inevitable, elemental.

His hands tensed. Thighs twitched. His cock gave a small, telling pulse inside her. He was close, no rush, no push, ticking within her, feeling everything.

And still, he watched her. If he blinked, he’d miss it. This version of her—sweating, gasping, taking him deep—was the most honest one yet.

She’d never been seen like this. Not without masks. Not mid-lie. Not mid-fuck. Not without shame, licking at her spine. She liked it, just a little.

“You feel so good,” he groaned. “Fuck, Eve…”

She almost laughed aloud.

Even now, even as her orgasm climbed her spine like a fuse about to spark, she wanted to correct him. Not my name. Yet, there was a naked poetry in it.

Eve. The first woman. The original sin. Fitting, wasn’t it? Sometimes, she couldn't comprehend her own genius.

She leaned in, dragged his lip between her teeth, bit gently, then rolled her hips harder, faster. She could feel herself starting to fall apart—release coiling tight in her belly like a loaded spring, every thrust building the tension sharper, sharper. It was happening—her body catching fire from the inside, everything spiralling, tightening.

Then—snap. She went splintering apart.

She came with a sound that drained all the colour from her world. A broken gasp, mouth frozen in a silent scream, stifled into his throat as she folded over him. Her body trembled, thighs clamped in, and she clung so tightly around him like she refused to let go. Riding out her waves.

He wasn’t far behind. As if the very sight of her had nudged him forward. A growl—deep, ragged—tore from his chest, face rigid, power intense, eyes hazed over, and with one sharp, helpless thrust, he came too. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted, buried deep, twitching inside her as his nails digging into her waist like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.

And then—quietude in the afterglow.

No lies, no scams, no exit plan. Two strangers wrapped around each other in the thick fog of sex, sweat, and softening breath.

Eventually, she lifted her head, curls clinging to her cheek. She looked down at him, and despite everything—the ache in her thighs and the sharp echo of release still ringing in her—she smiled a real one.

He reached up, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and gave her a smile so goddamn comforting it shouldn’t have existed in this room.

She huffed a little laugh, diverting her weight to graze his softening cock still buried inside her, she leaned in closer—lips ghosting his ear.

“Nice to meet you, Castillo.”

He let out a sound—half laugh, half groan—as his hand slid down to squeeze her ass.

“Pleasure’s mine, Eve.”

‘Eve’ was luxuriating.

There was no better word for it. Luxuriation at its finest. Stretching every nerve and bone in the wake of that mind-blowing orgasm at three in the goddamn morning, she lay draped in hotel linen like it had been tailored for her personally.

She was starving, of course. Ravenous. But not just for food.

She slid out of bed while the stranger—Mr. Big Wallet, Mr. Bigger Cock, Mr. Goddamn Castillo—was still draped across the mattress like a Renaissance nude. Sprawled and golden under the lamplight, limbs askew, a lean hand tucked under his head, a man who knew no one would ever dare disturb him. The picture of leisure. Post-coital smugness facsimiled into art.

Yeah, she would definitely overlook every stinging pain in her demolished muscles to ride him again, why do you ask?

Eventually, she found the lacquered room service menu on the desk and squinted at it, blinking through the haze of sex and triumph. Her instinct was to scan for the cheapest option—buttered toast, maybe, or the $25 fruit bowl. Years of living in the margins didn’t go away with one good fuck.

A wolfish grin crept onto her face. Or maybe it did.

Soon after, she ordered everything she ever denied herself, engaging in a little harmless flirting to get her way. Pancakes with clotted cream. French-style omelettes, salmon on brioche, truffle hash browns, a mimosa and champagne, because why the fuck not? She threw in a side of bacon and a whole carafe of coffee for good measure. Let her fake name live a little.

While she waited, she made herself at home—because that’s what you do when you’ve stolen a beautiful artefact, and no one’s caught you yet. She slipped into the plush hotel robe (absurdly soft, felt like being hugged by a cloud of money), then padded into the marbled bathroom where Bulgari-branded amenities waited like her personal butler’s blessing.

She washed her hair. Twice. Slathered herself in conditioner that smelled like a yacht moored in Monaco, under a majestic shower that almost aerosol-misted water right into her eyes. Then she filled the bottomless, claw-foot porcelain tub to the brim, lemon scented bubbles spilling over. She slipped in with a sigh that reached down to her childhood.

This was the end of the line. This was the life.

The ease of wealth. The promise of solitary comfort. The luxury of not having to think about consequences for once. People who came from nothing—real nothing—didn’t dream in moderation. They didn’t require stability or modest success.

They wanted everything.

Every millionth thread count, every miniature jam jar, every long-legged man with a wallet fat enough to make the world shut up.

And as she soaked in her expensive bath for the night, legs stretched wide and one arm hung lazily over the tub’s edge, breakfast arrived. She insisted on it being wheeled straight into the bathroom in the other guest room, champagne flutes and silver trays and all, so as to not wake Big Dick Castillo slumbering in the master.

Breakfast in the bath. Her version of communion.

She took one bite of pancake, one sip of mimosa, then paused.

Hang on. She didn’t even know his first name. Who was the rich stranger footing the bill?

The thought struck with the odd gravity of a joke that turns into a riddle. She reached for her phone—miraculously still charged—and typed with wet fingers:

🔎 Castillo New York

Top suggestion: Harry Castillo New York

She chewed her pancake thoughtfully. “Harry Cast-ee-yo.” Then pushed her lips up into a prideful smirk. “Found you.”

As easy as that. A few vague words and his whole history spilled out of the phone. She clicked the first, most recent result:

WMAG Exclusive: The Silent Rise of Harry Castillo, Manhattan’s Phantom Power Player

The layout was glossy and over-designed—grayscale cityscapes, oversized type, the whole corporate-chic fantasy. His photo sat dead center, sat in his corner office, hand templed: tall, broad-shouldered, dark eyes infinite, hair tousled, and that fucking smirk. He looked good enough to eat, sure—but there was something off about the Savile Row suit clinging to that lean, lethal frame. The armour didn’t quite fit the man.

And in the profile, no bold title crowned him. No CEO and/or founder. Nothing that screamed self-made grit or startup savant.

Just: Private Equities. Flat. Unapologetic. Take it or leave it.

She snorted into her mimosa. Finance guy. Not what she had in mind.

Private equity—the burgeoning art of buying dying things and gutting them for sport. She was certain he wasn’t a shark. You see, sharks had a purpose. This man was a collector of leverage. He bought struggling companies, debt, political favours, and maybe the occasional dumb woman who lied and pilfered for a living.

Still, she kept reading. Because curiosity, like appetite, always demanded payment.

“I’m not interested in visibility,” Castillo had told WMAG. “The people who talk loudest are usually the least important. Influence is quieter. And I am always thinking about the long game.”

She rolled her eyes. “Prick.”

Yet, the article hilariously went on and this interviewer did not back down:

“And what is the best thing about being this wealthy?”

She half-expected some PR-friendly answer. Time with his big, affluent family in Antibes. Philanthropy. The freedom to pursue passions, blah blah yacht. But Harry, naturally, said this:

“I now own WMAG.” “Seriously?” He grinned. “I could.”

A full-bodied, white-collar mic drop. She giggled into a layer of bubbles. Smug bastard.

That was Harry Castillo's real currency—believability. He didn’t have to lie; the proposition would suffice. He let people fill in the blanks, and by the time they realised they’d handed him everything, their signatures were already on the dotted line.

Hard to ignore how he sounded like every other wealthy nihilist out there on Wall Street. That tone he took—unshakable, a little too polished—dripped with discretion. She could hear it in her head now, could imagine him saying it between sips of twelve-year-old scotch at a table only lit by a Baccarat lamp.

“I don’t believe in risk for risk’s sake,” he had continued. “Every move should be precise. You don’t bet on fire. You buy the match factory.”

Wow, bravo. She almost clapped. Amusing poetry, Harvard grad, big dick. The man was god's favourite creation in triplicate. She could hardly wait for the leather-bound memoir.

The more she read, the more outlandish it became. Nothing she was new to. He had holdings in everything—media conglomerates, boutique aerospace startups, a vineyard in France that sold wine exclusively to Michelin-starred chefs. Oh, and a minority stake in a European football club, which was probably just code for laundering money through ticket sales.

She scrolled further down and hit a quote from someone unnamed but very impressed:

“Castillo’s power is that you don’t see him coming. He is the storm with no centre. By the time you realise he’s at the table, he already owns the room.”

She tapped her glass against the tub, grinning. “No shit.”

The man outside, Harry Castillo, resupine on his bed like a Greco-Roman mural, the one she’d just ridden to death into the mattress, wasn’t just a rich man.

He was a whole mechanism. A muted weapon clothed in desire. And suddenly she wasn’t sure if she’d seduced him or if she’d walked directly into a carefully placed snare.

Which, of course, was all the more arousing, interesting, tempting, than alarming.

She set the phone by the ledge, reached for a slice of brioche, and thought idly about what her fake, biblical name had said the night before. Eve. The first woman. The fall of Man.

Well, was that not just perfect, she thought and dunked her bread in hollandaise.

At least she picked the right apple.

Later, she watched the sun rise over Manhattan like it was hers.

Legs curled beneath the robe she hadn’t paid for, mimosa in one hand, toast crumbs on the other. Coi Leray murmured through one AirPod, girl-code gospel about how players wear heels now. She bobbed her head to the beat, eyes closed, face tilted toward the morning light. The breeze off the terrace kissed her bare collarbone. Below, the city stirred, unaware that one of its daughters had momentarily won.

“What you know ‛bout livin’ on the top?” her favourite singer chirped. Damn right, people had no damn clue.

The sky was daubed with watercolour—soft roses and scintillating golds bleeding into the steel blue silhouette of the city. She was soaking in every second of it like heat through her bones, feeling a little more than fortunate that she’d stolen this morning. Or maybe rented it by the hour. Either way, it felt like trespassing in heaven.

It was going to be very, very hard to leave.

She heard the thud-thud-thud of his footsteps before she saw him. Padding out from the bedroom, across the polished floors, through the quiet hush of money well-spent. She didn’t open her eyes.

“Did you pig out on the whole menu without me?”

Not a trace of annoyance in that freshly-fucked voice. Not even mockery. It was a soft exhale of disappointment, as if he’d actually been looking forward to an insightful breakfast of champagne and eggs with her.

She grinned, head turned toward the sun. “Oops.”

A soft, amused chuckle. “Are there leftovers at least?”

“Might be toast,” she hummed, “or a fruit bowl.”

You know, the stuff you could score from a lobby continental if you smiled just right.

Then came the shadow, a dawdling eclipse, as he blocked the sun with his body. She sighed out her blunt nuisance, popped one earbud free, and opened her eyes—

Oh, my fuck.

How exactly was a girl supposed to leave when the man she was meant to swindle was standing there like some water-dappled fantasy come to life?

Shower-warm water trickled from his curls like holy beads, trailing down his throat, over that sickeningly perfect chest. The towel around his hips hung low and loose—threatening virtue, daring gravity. In daylight, he looked even more expensive. Someone had carved him out of dark gold and complacency. Was the sun doing that on purpose, playing him out in slow motion and amber hues of a porn film?

Her eyes dragged over him like fingers. Simply put on this Earth to be appreciated, wasn't he?

The worst part was that he knew exactly what he looked like.

He leaned in, bracing one hand by her head, the other hooking a finger into the delicate strap of her black slip. “Leaving without a kiss?”

She tilted her chin. “I gave you plenty last night.”

“Too bad I’m insatiable,” he murmured—and claimed her.

This special kiss was slower, curled around her throat like silk. Luxurious. Marvis toothpaste and vices. He had nothing left to prove now, just him to taste again. His hand cradled her jaw, thumb brushing just under her lip as if establishing her identity. Ha, good luck with that. While she let herself melt into it, one last time, and her fingers found his damp curls, twining. Tugging. Greedy.

When he finally let go, it was with a kiss to her nose—infuriatingly domestic. Tucking affection between stolen moments.

She patted his chest—twice, lightly, how one might close a book—and moved to slip her stilettos back on from where they waited obediently by the lounger.

“I better hoof it before the cops show up,” she muttered, bending to fasten them back on with still-shaky fingers.

He placed his hands on his hips, the towel still miraculously hitched there with Popeye's knot. “Inexpedient. You know I have security, right?”

“That needs replacing, yes.”

His mouth twitched, but his eyes stayed trained on her. Calculating. Curious. “You don’t do this often.”

She arched a brow, slipping on a heel. “Sex? Or talking to billionaires in towels?”

“You don’t get caught. But you’re not greedy either, you take just enough.”

She gave him her best grin—sharp, blameless. “I’m light-fingered with taste.”

“I know your play now.”

She paused mid-buckle, scoffing. “From a single fuck? Please, you do not.”

He said it, simple and unambiguous—“You’re acting out of necessity.”

The words dropped like a pin in a vault.

And her stomach did that thing again—flipped traitorously, like it forgot what team she was playing for. Even if it showed on her face, she masked it by standing too quickly, balancing all that tension in her calves and those goddamn heels. One foot out the door was always her secret weapon.

“A pretty big tangent, don’t you think?” he said casually. “From lifting watches to swiping shampoo bottles from the bathroom.”

But her hand, buried in the folds of her coat, curled tighter around the little Bulgari amenity kit she’d palmed like a lifeline. Conditioner, soap, even the shower cap—luxuries she didn’t demand, but had taken anyway. A permission to remember.

She kept her eyes forward, chin tilted, expression carved from cool marble. Still, her fingers gripped that miniature bottle like it might explain her—or what she refused to say out loud.

The guilt was feather-light. The habit was heavier.

Behind her, he shifted. She could feel the heat of him before she turned—wet curls, water beading off his collarbones, barefoot and beautiful, and still half a head taller.

She pivoted smoothly, letting the smile break across her lips. Blinding, forged in the alleyways of survival.

With a theatrical grace, she reached into her coat and produced the bag, and set it down on the nearest lounger like an offering at a goddamn altar.

“I’m sentimental,” she said airily, flipping her hair over the coat. “Didn’t want to take anything I couldn’t fence.”

He raised a brow. “I would’ve bought you a crate full if you said it.”

She snorted. “Then you’d expect a thank-you note. Maybe a handwritten apology for bruising your ego.”

“You think this is about ego?”

She was already walking, all legs and larceny, her heels clicking a decisive farewell toward the suite’s door. “It’s always about ego, honey. Yours, mine, New York’s.”

He let her go, for only a beat before: “So that’s it? You’re leaving me here?”

She didn’t answer.

“Empty-handed?” he added, trying for levity. But there was an edge in it. Uncertain, almost hurt.

That stopped her.

She turned slowly, heel catching the light. Her gaze roamed down his body—shoulders to smirk at the towel and his hands. She let her lips curl with the final review of her appraisal. A pause, then:

“No, Harry. You are.”

He blinked, stunned. Then laughed that deep, throaty laugh—quick, surprised, maybe even impressed.

“Wait... you stalked me?”

She was already halfway through the door, but her voice reached him in a whiff of perfume—soft, sweet, a last kiss goodbye. “I did. I'm largely underwhelmed.”

“Offence largely taken—!”

But the door snapped shut with the crisp punctuation of a woman who’d just stolen back her power.

The hallway waited, quiet and cooled by central air and generational wealth. The marble underfoot gleamed. Her heels made the kind of sound that said: I finally belong here. Or at least—I dare you to say I don’t.

She walked with no urgency, each step a slow, delicious exhale. No alarms or shouting, chock-full with expensive silence that forgave indulgence.

At the elevator, she pressed the button. Waited. Tucked her hands into the silk-lined pockets of the fur coat, not out of cold, but because she liked the feel of the significance of it in her palm. That familiar shape—warm now against her skin.

The fucking emerald ring.

It was there. A flicker of green fire between her fingers. She wasn’t even sure when she'd slipped it off him. Maybe when he trusted her enough to fall asleep or when he was deep inside her, and her mind had gone static. Maybe it had just… found her. It was fate.

The elevator dinged.

Without missing a beat, she stepped inside. Her reflection caught in the gold-trimmed mirror: hair wild and haloed, eyes glowing with triumph from an utterly bare face. The hotel robe had vanished; now it was the satin slip, the coat, the heels. Chaos in elegance.

And there it was—on her finger.

A perfect, vulgar gleam. Standing there like a question mark that didn’t need answering.

The doors started to close.

But a hand blocked them. Big, firm, wet. A horny reminder of last night.

They hurtled open again—and there her once target was.

Still in the goddamn towel. Dripping. Curls unruly. A single drop of water slid down his chest like it was tracing a signature. Harry’s hand braced the elevator door open, wide and planted, and his breath came just a little too fast for a man who pretended he never chased.

They just stared at each other.

She raised a brow. “Forgot your goodbye monologue?”

His lips curled lazily. “Forgot to ask if you’re free tonight.”

That stopped her. Not the inquiry—he asked as if this were a boardroom, and she was a merger he didn’t want to lose.

Her grin betrayed itself gloriously—and she had to bite her lip to contain the whole thing. The emerald was warm between her fingers now, hidden in the fur lining of her coat. Poor little rich boy didn’t know she’d swiped the emerald off his finger while he was too busy trying to memorise the shape of her name on his tongue. It was already cooling against her skin like a private joke.

“I don’t do second showings,” she said, tilting her head. “I believe in leaving them wanting.”

“No sex,” he replied smoothly. “Just dinner. A civilised meal. Wine optional. Clothes preferred.”

She took a step forward. Her heels whispered across the carpet like a signature. Her palm landed gently on his cheek, thumb trailing down the line of his jaw like she was testing for flaws in the marble.

“Dinner,” she repeated. “While you stare at the cutlery to see what I pocket?”

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile. Those wondrous gears in his head turned where she could see them. “If it makes you feel better, sweetheart, I’ll buy the whole restaurant for one night. Want the chef? You can have them. Kitchen, too.”

She gave a soft snort. “Are you always this desperate to feed your dates?”

He smiled, unapologetic. “I like investing in volatile assets.”

Her eyes narrowed—amused. “And I like playing with over-leveraged men.”

He leaned in slightly, water glinting off his collarbone like jewellery. “Then this should be fun.”

She let her hand drop like a curtain call, but there was a hum beneath the restraint. “I’m not a return on investment.”

“Didn’t say I expected one.”

The elevator pinged—doors trying to slide shut again. He caught it reflexively, fingers splayed, blocking the sensors. He tilted his head knowingly, waiting for her.

She let a soft, exhilarated breath leave her. “Jesus, you’re persistent.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“Dangerous word.”

“Only if you’re worth the damage.” He thinned his eyes. “C'mon, try your luck a little more.”

That made her laugh—head tipped back, shoulders relaxed.

As the impatient elevator doors began to close again, she tapped the emerald glinting between her fingers against the rail once, a sharp clink, like a period at the end of a sentence. She let the metal sing.

A signature. A thief’s version of a calling card.

There was a fascination about them that felt depraved. Poetical. He knew the danger, and that she wasn’t just sharp around the edges—she was serrated. Unreliable. She was halfway to detonation, and still he lingered—like a man who’d light her twice, just to watch the world go up with her.

That was the thing about men like Harry Castillo. Chaos was their muse, especially when it walked like sin and smirked like it knew them.

The doors finally began to slide again with no interference.

“I'll find you, Eve,” Harry promised.

She blew him a kiss with two fingers, let her tongue click in pity. “Poor guy,” she whispered, turning her head the second before the elevator doors kissed closed.

-> PART TWO HERE.

© damneddamsy

part 2, anyone? 👀

taglist 🫶 { @oolongreads @divine-timings @jodiswiftle @bensonispunk @brittmb115 } - for the few interested sweethearts and babes, thank you!

[milla-frenchy]

Playgirl

4k3 | Javier Peña x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: Attracted to your father's best friend since his return from Colombia, you finally get what you want Warnings: 18+ mdni. sets after season 3, Javi is back in Texas. dbf!Javi, age gap (reader in her early 20s, Javi in his 40s), Javi is jealous, possessive and a little mean, reader is a brat, dry humping, fingering, manhandling, face sitting, degradation, size kink, oral (f/m), piv, creampie

a/n: this is written for @yxtkiwiyxt 's Never have I ever challenge Prompt was "never have i ever had a sex dream about someone i shouldn't" Thank you for the event Kiwi 🙏❤️

Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and helping me with this fic 💕 I love you more than you know 🫂🫶 @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

Javi ordered a whiskey neat, loosened the knot of his tie, and downed his drink in one go before asking the bartender for another one. The bass was resonating against the counter he was leaning on, and he had already regretted choosing that bar. Too noisy, too different from the quiet atmosphere he usually preferred. 

He drank the second whiskey and heard a loud laugh he would recognize among a thousand. He turned in that direction and saw you with two men he immediately hated. Too young, too close to you. Too touchy. And you… too drunk.

“Jesus fucking christ”, he grumbled. He wondered if you were there with your friends that he knew, but as he scanned the room he didn’t see a single one of them. He turned back to the counter, ran his thumb along his nose and tried to breathe calmly. He didn’t like it. Didn’t like to see you with those guys. 

When someone pushed him lightly, ordering three shots, Javi turned and recognized one of the men. Javi gave him a snarling look and the guy jeered,

“Chill, man.”

Javi rolled his eyes, tapping his fingers against the empty glass. He hesitated at first but then stood up and followed the guy until he came up to you. 

“She’s had enough,” he gruffed as he interposed himself between you and the men. The atmosphere shifted.

“Javi?” you stammered in a drunken pitchy voice.

“It’s not your business man,” one of the men replied. “You know this guy?” he asked you, looking over Javi's shoulder who shifted slightly to block his view. 

“Yeah, he’s my dad’s best friend.”

One of the men snickered and looked at Javi, firmly standing in front of them. 

“So you’re going out with a chaperone?” the man mocked you, not taking his eyes off Javi.

“No, I didn’t know he was here. What are you doing, Javi?” you demanded, touching his arm to turn him towards you, but he didn't flinch. 

The three men kept staring at each other until Javi turned around, told you “we're leaving,” grabbed your elbow and led you towards the exit.

“Wow wow, man, we’re having fun,” one of them objected, seizing Javi by the arm. He stopped and grasped the man's wrist to free himself. His gaze was so dark that the man backed away immediately.

“Really? Having fun?” Javi sneered, taking two steps towards him. “And how much fun do you want to have, exactly?”

Noticing that the situation was escalating, you tried to ease it and said “Come on, Javi. Everything’s fine.”

“Do you know them? Did you know them before tonight, I mean?” he asked you, and you could have sworn you saw something other than simple protectiveness of your father's friend. It made you smile, and it didn't go unnoticed by Javi when his gaze lowered to your lips. He clenched his jaw.

“You’ve had enough,” he repeated. “And if they were decent men, they wouldn’t offer you another one.”

“We’re just having fun!” you added, not hiding your mischievous smile, making him mumble into his moustache.

“You had your fun. Now we’re leaving.”

He didn’t really give you a choice, squeezing your elbow and leading you toward the exit.

“She doesn't want to go with you, man,” one of the men protested. “So who’s a decent guy here?”

“Listen, kid,” Javi said, exasperated, grabbing his shirt collar. “She’s coming with me. And if you don’t want to embarrass yourself, step back, right now.” They faced each other for a few moments until the other man told his friend to let it go.

The cool air hit your face when you stepped out of the bar, and you followed Javi to his car as best you could, given his pace. He opened a door for you and told you curtly to get in, then he sat behind the wheel.

“Seat belt,” he ordered.

“What?” 

“Jesus, are you always so fucking dumb when you're drunk?” he asked sharply, leaning over you to grab the seat belt and pull it in front of you before fastening it.

“You smell good, Javi.”

“Seriously? How many drinks did you have? Just… stop talking, ok? You're gonna give me a headache with your drunk high pitched voice.”

“Ok, you fucking stink, then,” you giggled.

He rolled his eyes and started the car. “Don’t puke in my truck”, he warned.

“Of course, who do you take me for?” You looked at him then whispered, “don’t say anything if it’s mean,” your index finger pointed at him as you  laughed and then pressed it against your lips playfully.

He sighed again and mumbled something in Spanish that you didn’t hear well, but that didn’t sound nice, for sure.

“I always wondered, you know,” you started talking in a confidential tone.

“Don't you ever shut up,” he sighed. “Wondered what?”

“How big it is.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, regretting it almost immediately. He interrogated hundreds of sicarios with a cool head, but seemed unable to cut down your drunken gibberish, much to his dismay.

“Your dick. You’ve got a big dick, for sure.”

He choked on air and you chuckled before you continued “there's not much for the imagination with these jeans… right, leftie guy? But how big?”

“Fuck, what is wrong with you? You talk to your father with this mouth?” he barked, icy gaze fixed on yours, his body frozen in shock at your audacity.

“What are you gonna do to shut me up, Mr. DEA agent?” you said, still pushing him. “Use your handcuffs? I bet I’d like it,” you said with a wide smile.

Javi’s cock twitched in his pants and he hated himself for it. The ride was going to be way too long for his liking.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, as the images from his last dream came back to his mind. 

You, lying beneath him, your mouth forming a perfect “o” as he pushed his length in your welcoming pussy. She was warm, so tight that she was struggling to accept his thickness. Your walls strained against his shaft that had never been so hard. His face lowered to yours, fixed on your eyes that struggled to stay open, on your lip that you were biting to fight through the stretching of your hole, even while it was drooling. He was fucking you slowly, for a long time, attentive to all the sensations that ran through his body, until you pulsed on his cock, moaning, head thrown back against his pillow. He licked your neck before nibbling it, then whispered in Spanish against your ear about how well you were taking him, how perfect you were, and then he came, filling you with his seed, and a new climax rocked you.

“Javi,” you whispered.

He woke up suddenly, his sheets wet with cum that he hadn’t been able to hold back during sleep.

Those dreams were becoming more and more regular. When he had returned to Laredo after resigning from the DEA, slowly getting back into touch with some fragments of his previous life, he couldn’t imagine that his jaw would drop when he knocked on the door of his friend's home. They had stayed in touch, even when Javi was in Colombia. Of course, your father had told him about you over the years. About your studies, about how proud he was of you.

You opened the door and stared at each other for a few seconds. Javi was unable to speak, completely frozen.

“Javi!!” you finally exclaimed and hugged him. He was sure he wouldn't have recognized you, if he had passed you in the street.

Days, weeks, months passed, and he‘d seen you many times since then, when he visited your father’s. He was trying to keep his thoughts pure but his cock was betraying him.

And then the dreams began.

The first time he jerked off thinking of you, he'd had too many beers at your dad's. All night long, he wondered if he was imagining your signals, or if you were really hitting on him. He felt ashamed when his cum leaked down his fist clenched around his cock, as he was imagining it buried in your throat.

“You put on quite a show there,” you said, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glanced at your bare legs for a moment, your dress riding up your thighs.

“Sit properly, will you?” he cut in with a sigh.

“Why?” you replied in a playful tone. “You don’t like the view? Doubt it,” you added, nibbling the tip of your index finger.

He hated that you could think that. Hated that you were right. His only way to react was to be aggressive, but it didn't seem to stop you. Quite the opposite, actually.

“I think you were jealous.” Javi scoffed at your words. “You didn't like seeing me with other men,” you added, still pushing.

“Men?” he mocked. “They were like what, 23?”

“Yeah, 23 and 24. Seems like a perfect age to have fun,” you teased, eager to spike his jealousy, to feel desired, wanted.

“What would your father think if he saw you acting like a whore?” he hissed, pissed off.

“I don’t know Javi, what do you think?”

“Jesus christ,” he said under his breath. Luckily, your father's house was now in sight. As he pulled into the driveway, you grabbed your purse off the car’s floor and looked into it and after a pause began frantically rummaging through it.

“Ughhhh Javi? I can’t find my keys….”

He cut the engine and leaned his head against the headrest. 

“You really think I’m stupid?”

“I swear!!! I must have lost them at the bar. Where am I gonna sleep?” you whined.

He grabbed your bag roughly, searched through it and pulled out the set of keys with an annoyed glare.

 “Come on now, I’ll walk you home.”

You pouted and followed him out of the car. The moment you opened the front door, you heard the phone ring and picked it up.

“Dad? I just got home. I was at the bar and ran into Javi who walked me home like a gentleman,” you said, smiling widely at him. He rolled his eyes, hands on his hips.

“Sure,” you added, handing the phone to Javi. “Dad wants to talk to you.”

You couldn’t hear your father, but you saw Javi’s eyebrows furrow.

“I don’t think she’s that drunk, you know,” he sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it. See you tomorrow.”

 “What did he say,” you asked when Javi hung up.

“Your father won’t come home until tomorrow night and he doesn’t want you to spend the night alone. He’s afraid you’ll choke on your vomit,” he scoffed. You didn’t hide your smile.

“Of course!! You don’t want me to choke on my vomit, Javi, do you?”

He tried not to think that he would really like to make you choke on something else at that moment. He closed his eyes for a minute, sighed and said, “Go to bed, dammit.”

“Mmmm… it’s too early for that. I’m gonna take a shower. See you later,” you said before heading upstairs.

Once Javi heard the water running, he poured himself a glass of whiskey, debating whether that was a good or bad idea. He turned the TV on. The first thing he saw was a documentary about drug cartels.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” he mumbled and  flipped through the channels until he found a baseball game. He was trying not to think about you naked in the shower, imagining your fingers slipping against your folds covered in soap. Unsuccessfully.

When you came out of the bathroom wearing an oversized t-shirt, his cock twitched painfully against the fabric of his pants. You walked to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge before sitting on the couch next to him.

“Absolutely not,” he said, taking the bottle from your hands. “Drink some water, no need to add more, don’t you think?”

“Jeez, you’re boring,” you grumbled, leaning against the back of the couch, arms crossed over your chest. Your pouting didn’t last long, and you straddled him suddenly, pressing yourself against his crotch.

“Get off me” he growled. “You really think I’d fuck you? What is wrong with you?”

“Wrong with me? You’re hard!” you giggled. “You’re fucking hard, Javi,” you repeated, feeling his bulge. “And… oh, shit. I knew you were big, but not that big.”

“Stop,” he grunted, his hands on your hips.

“Nuh-hu,” you replied, starting to rub against him. 

“I won’t fuck you. You really need me to tell you why?” he asked, but you almost felt like it was more to convince himself than you.

“No, and I don’t give a fuck anyway.”

You stared at each other for a few seconds, his gaze darkening with every moment. You thought he was going to pull you away from him but he surprised you when his hands squeezed your hips and you smiled, victorious.

“Wanna act like a slut? In your father’s house?”

“Yeah, actually I do. Does it turn you on, Javi? Even more than it did when you were thinking about me in the shower?”

And that was it. He didn’t care about your father anymore. He'd given up on resisting, didn’t know when he would stop. If he could even stop. Jaw clenched, he watched you rub yourself against him, your breasts so close to his face, he was glad that you still had your shirt on, or he would surely already be sucking on them.

“I’m gonna kiss you,” you breathed out, still pressed against his bulge, which was even bigger than a few minutes ago.

“No, you won’t,” he cut you off, but you smiled and leaned towards him and brushed his lips with yours, playing with him. You were enjoying it too much to stop.

“Tell me you don’t want to kiss me,” you murmured, your breath caressing his lips. “And don’t lie to me.”

Tightening his grip on your hip with one hand, he pinched your chin between his fingers, squeezing it almost painfully. He held you inches away from him, maintaining control.

Then he told you to stand up and sit back against his chest.

You didn't want to at first. You wanted to feel his digits on your skin, to feel him under you, his cock pushing against his pants, but when he murmured “do as I say” you complied and leant against his chest, legs spread around his lap. You waited, surprisingly wise, leaving him the initiative for what was to come next.

Javi placed his hands on your hips, manhandling you until his cock nestled against the warmest place of your body, still covered by your panties. You whined when he found the spot so perfectly, and whimpered a little more when he whispered “you're gonna be good?” in your ear.

“Yeah,” you moaned.

“Keep all spread for me, and dance. Slowly.”

You started to rub yourself against him, and felt your panties getting soaked. His hands slowly moved up from your hips to your breasts and under your shirt, cupped them and played with your nipples, making you bite your lip.

His breath quickened against your ear and you closed your eyes, rocking your hips against him until he pushed the fabric of your panties aside and slid his hand between your bodies to release his cock. So strained against his clothes that he cursed impatiently under his breath. 

Javi pressed the pads of his fingers to his shaft and pushed it against your soaked folds. Then he started to move, matching your hip movements with his own, gently, sensually. Perfectly.

“Look at you. Droolin’ all over my sack. Jeez, I’m fuckin’ soaked,” he said, before nibbling your earlobe, his moustache rubbing against your skin.

When he slid his other hand down to your clit and started to circle it, you came quickly, regretting only that your pussy felt desperately empty.

You weren't expecting him to push his tip into your entrance, and the slightly painful stretch made you whine.

“Fuck, wait!”

“What?” he gruffed. “You wanted to know how big it was, didn’t you? That’s why you humped that cock, just wanting to ride it, even if you already knew how fat it was, right?”

“I’m… I’m not sure I can take it,” you whined pitifully.

“Oh? You’re not sure you can take a man’s dick? A real man, not one of those boys who make you drink to fuck you.”

His thumbs ran over your dripping folds and you moaned. 

“Alright. You’re already so wet,” his tone superior, not trying to hide it. ”I bet I can make you drip even more. I’m gonna eat that cunt until she clenches on my fingers. Get you ready for my cock.”

“Oh, really? Are you that good, Javi?” you retorted, unable to stop yourself.

“That’s not very smart coming from someone whining 10 seconds ago she couldn’t take it. Now sit on my face.”

“What? I never… Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Wanna see you losin’ it. Your knees getting weak for me.”

When you straddled him and placed your pussy close to his face, you felt shy, intimidated. He grabbed your ass firmly, pulled you closer to him, tugged your panties to the side and just dove in, licking from your pussy to your clit. He growled, and an almost inaudible “fuck” escaped your lips.

Then, you couldn't do anything except moan, because no one had ever eaten your pussy like he was doing it now. He wasn’t in a rush, wasn’t showing his eager need. He was so sure of himself and his movements, alternating tongue, fingers and nose against your folds, between them, that his attitude alone would have been enough to make you come. 

He was using and manhandling your body as he pleased, choosing what part of your cunt he wanted to lick, suck or eat. What part he wanted to rub against his nose. As if your body wasn't really yours anymore, but existed for him to feist on.

You were a soaked, moaning mess, unable to feel your legs, now made of cotton. Until the heat that was increasing in your lower abdomen suddenly exploded, making you pant, hands clasping his hair and he didn't want to leave the streaming river that flowed down his throat. You squirmed over him, until he decided it was enough, and released you. You collapsed onto the couch next to him. Trembling, breathing heavily.

He wiped his mustache off your cum and grabbed your hand as he stood up, then placed it on his shaft.

“See what you did? Now you gotta do something about it.”

He released your hand and took off his clothes, his fat, reddish tip twitching and crying, begging for relief. You swallowed slowly, when you finally saw how big he was.

“Shit,” you stammered.

“Stroke it,” he ordered and you smeared the precum on the tip and used it to jerk him slowly. It was the biggest cock you'd ever seen. By far. You couldn't take your eyes off it, wondering how it would feel when he would push it inside you. If you could take it. If it would hurt, and this time you almost hoped it would, already cock drunk of him.

“Lick it a little. Drool on it,” he said. 

You wanted to do it perfectly, just to wipe the smirk from his face. So you applied yourself, licked him and let his taste fill your throat. Then you rounded your lips as much as you could to suck on his tip, and slowly moved down his shaft. 

“Look at that. You're not just good at talking, it seems”, his tone still so confident.

He accompanied your movements with one hand on your head, letting you lead the pace. His grunts turned into moans and you could feel your arousal drip.

"That's it, you're doing good. See, there's nothing to be afraid of," he added, but when you lifted your head and saw his smirk, you knew what he was thinking. The moment he would sink in, you’d whine.

“Ok, that’s it,” he said. “Bend over the couch, gonna fuck you now. I'm gonna give you what you want, and it will only happen once.”

Before settling behind you, he removed your shirt, then tugged aside your panties.

“I’ll go slow, okay?” 

You nodded and watched him lick his fingers then caress your folds with them, and he aligned his tip with your entrance before pushing in. You gasped as you felt the first stretch spreading you open.

“It’s ok, you can take it,” he added. “Breathe. Come on.”

You dug your nails into the couch as he thrust in, never stopping until he bottomed out with a growl. He stayed there, balls deep, keeping you open around him, moaning, trying to catch your breath.

“Fuck… you’re fucking tight,” he growled, pulling back and then pushing in again, eyes fixed on his cock sliding in you, covered with your slick.

“That’s what you wanted, getting fucked by your father’s friend? You should be ashamed,” he spat.

“Come on, Javi… oh fuck… you think I… think I didn’t notice the way you looked at me?” you added as he thrust harder, reacting instantly to your provocation. 

“You’re only proving me right,” you added, and he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, forcing you to hold your head like he wanted and arch your back for him.

“You’re delusional,” he hissed, making you snicker.

“Am I? You’re gonna tell me you never thought about fucking me? Never thought of… shit! Of thrusting in with your whole length? Of eating my cunt?”

“Shut up,” he panted.

“Tell me. Tell me you thought of me, and don't lie to me. I did everything I could to make you think about me. That's called premeditation, isn't it, Mr. DEA Agent?”

He stopped moving and leaned to press his chest against your back, his nose and moustache brushing against your neck, catching his breath for a moment before his hips resumed their dance, rubbing against a spot you didn't even know existed before him.

“I dreamed of you,” he finally confessed. “Several times.”

“Tell me. Tell me what happened in your dreams.”

“I fucked you like this. Made you come on my cock. Made you moan like you’re doing right now.”

“Shit… You’re gonna make me come on your cock, Javi?”

“Yes,” he answered without a doubt in his voice.

“Fuck… Keep talking to me. What else?”

“I fucked my shaft. Jerked off thinking of you. Imagining it was your mouth around my cock, not my fist.”

“In your dreams, you mean? You dreamed of that?”

“No. I thought of that.”

“Oh god,” you whined. You realized you were about to come, just from his shaft brushing this spot. Already worried that you would spend the rest of your life chasing that feeling.

He grabbed your hips tighter, digging his fingers in your flesh, and you were sure you’d have bruises the next day. His skin was slapping against yours, harder, faster.

“Every time you’ll fuck someone else, you’ll think of me now,” he growled. “Like a curse. You will never feel something like this again.”

“Please… please,” you begged.

“Please what?” he asked, and you didn’t need to see him to know there was a smirk on his face.

“I need more,” you whined.

“I’m not even done with you,” he mocked. “Now be a good girl, and come for me.”

“Please… I don’t want it to end. Please…” you whimpered. As if you could stop your body from reacting to his perfect, relentless thrusts. Clinging to the couch, you dug your fingers into the cushions as your orgasm swept through your entire being, leaving you panting and boneless.

You clenched on his cock so hard he was afraid he'd spill his load. But he wanted it to last a little more, too. He tried to think of something else, anything. He released his grip on your hips to try to feel you less, but your pussy wouldn't give him any respite.

“Fuck,” he moaned.

“You wanna fill me?” you asked. “Fill me, Javi. I wanna feel you flowing down my folds all night long.”

“Stop it,” he groaned.

“Fill me. Fill your friend's daughter.” You couldn’t stop talking. Didn’t want to stop. You wanted to make him break, to feel that he was losing his mind too. Just like you.

He slid his fingers in your mouth and found the force to smirk when you licked and sucked on them.

You squeezed your pussy around his shaft until you heard him moan.

“Shit, you… you and your fucking tight cunt!” he let out through gritted teeth.

“Who will be the most cursed, Javi? Me… or you?” you smirked.

“Shut up. Fuck… I own that cunt now. You hear me? No matter who fucks her after me.”

He slipped his hand under your breasts to force you up and didn't stop fucking you, your back pressed against his chest. You fumbled and grabbed his hand, finally clinging to his thumb, moaning, unable to form a single coherent thought.

“You wanna drain my balls? Ok take it then,” he growled, and you felt his cock twitch inside you, just before he spurted in your cunt, filling it longly, slowly, with his load.

He didn't let go of you until you both caught your breath, then he told you to go to bed. You heard him light a cigarette as you opened your bedroom door, your legs still shaking.

You woke up to the sound of your door opening during the night. He was naked and you let your gaze drop from his broad shoulders to his happy trail.

“I thought it was only a one-time thing,” you teased, already feeling your cunt getting wet at the sight of his hard cock.

“Fuck it,” he replied, climbing on your bed.

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[fireinmoonshot]

second impressions | joaquín torres x fem!reader

READ PART ONE HERE Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: After making a terrible first impression on you, Joaquín goes back to the Avengers Training Facility in hopes of making a better second impression on you... but you have other ideas. Warnings: Mentions of fighting/combat and food Word Count: 2.1k A/N: I had a few people requesting that I write a second part to First Impressions so I have been working on this for the past couple of days. I am also going to be writing a third part to it as well which will hopefully be up in the next couple of days. Not much happens in this tbh but I still hope you guys enjoy it. I think it has some fun elements to it 💗

When Sam asks Joaquin if he wants to join him for some training at the Avengers Training Facility, there isn’t a second of hesitation before he says yes. He does truly want to learn the art of being the Falcon… the fact that you’re also going to be there is just a bonus.

He even puts on an extra spritz of cologne before he leaves his apartment. The fact that he’s wearing gym gear and therefore doesn’t need cologne doesn’t even cross his mind.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Sam asks him as they walk into the training room. “You seem a little distracted.”

Joaquin shakes his head and tries his best to pretend that he’s not looking for you. He is a little distracted, he can admit that. But it’s just because he’s here and you’re also here somewhere and he hasn’t stopped thinking about you since you body slammed him in this very room two weeks ago. “Nah, man. I’m ready. I’ve never been more ready.”

Sam gives him an amused look. “Yeah, sure…”

He drops his gym bag by the corner of the mat and starts to do some stretching. His body is tense from the drive and he needs to loosen up big time before he starts to train with Sam. He’s fully aware he’s probably going to be getting his ass kicked, but he has to start somewhere, right? He’s a pretty decent fighter when it really comes down to it, but he knows he can do with some improvement.

“So,” Joaquin begins, stretching one of his legs. “Do you think that if I can win in a sparring match with you today, you’ll let me face off with that Black Widow we saw here last time?” He purposely doesn’t use your name in an attempt to make Sam think he’s nonchalant about it all. Sam is well aware he’s the entire opposite.

Sam snorts. “Yeah, in your dreams. Even I wouldn’t fight her.”

Joaquin frowns and stands up straight, momentarily pausing his stretching. “What do you mean you wouldn’t fight her? You’ve fought Super Soldiers, you’ve fought aliens. You even fought a Red Hulk and won. I mean, come on – you totally could!”

Unbeknownst to Joaquin, you’ve slowly been walking up to them for this entire conversation, a small smile on your lips. As you reach them, you casually drape your arm around Joaquin’s shoulders, enjoying the way he tenses beneath your touch.

“Yeah, listen to the kid, Cap. I reckon you could totally take me on.”

Sam rolls his eyes and continues his own stretching. “I could, but I don’t need that kinda humiliation. By the sound of it, though, Joaquin sounds like he’s up for it.”

Joaquin’s eyes widen. “I did not say that.”

You look over at Joaquin, still smiling. “What, are you scared, Torres?”

His breath hitches as he looks at you. Your face is so close to his, closer than its ever been before, and your arm is still wrapped around his shoulders. He’s never been electrocuted before but he’s pretty certain it must feel something like this. “Me, scared?” He attempts to scoff but it comes out as more of a choking sound.

You remove your arm from around his shoulders and move to stand a little in front of him. “Aren’t you here to learn some fighting techniques? C’mon, Torres. I’m a good teacher.”

For the first time probably ever, Joaquin is a little lost for words. He’s looking at you, trying not to think too much about how attractive he finds you, and also trying to convince himself that maybe he should accept a match against you. It’d be a good way to learn… and to get his ass kicked. But if you are the one doing the ass kicking, he could definitely get behind it…

“I’m just teasing,” you say, breaking his train of thought. “I’m not fighting you today.” There’s not a single bone in your body that is willing to fight against someone with such little training compared to your usual partners. When he was better and could really hold his own against you? Sure, that was fair game. But you hadn’t been able to help yourself today when you’d walked into the gym and heard them talking about you. “Do you mind if I watch though?”

Sam shakes his head. “Nah, that’s fine. It’ll probably be good for him to have another set of eyes to see what he needs to improve on.”

“Okay, great,” you hum, starting to walk over to the edge of the mat. You pause by Joaquin and place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You got this, Torres. Oh, and by the way, you smell good.”

Joaquin stares at you, a little bewildered, as you move to sit on the floor by the edge of the mat, leaning up against the concrete wall behind you and stretching your legs out in front of you. Did you actually just say that to him? How the hell was Joaquin meant to fight under these conditions? He’s all hot under the metaphorical collar now.

“Joaquin, you ready?” Sam asks, finishing off his stretching and stepping up onto the mat.

He clears his throat, looks at you one last time, and then nods. “Yeah, I’m ready.” Oh, he’s so screwed. 

~~~

You stay, watching the two men as they spar on the mat in front of you. Sam is good, as you had expected him to be with so much experience under his belt. Joaquin, though, is better than you’d expected. He fights almost as effortlessly as you, although some of his movements are a little clunky in places and he could definitely learn a thing or two about predicting his opponents movements. All things considered, though, you’re impressed.

After the training wraps up for the day, you excuse yourself from the gym and head into the kitchen – a popular place among the Avengers while using the Training Facility. You’re making a sandwich when Joaquin walks into the room.

He has a towel resting over his shoulder and there’s still a sheen of sweat over his skin from the fighting. His hair, which had been neatly styled before, is now a little messy, some strands of it falling over his forehead and softening his face. It’s the first time you’ve seen him outside of the gym and even though you knew that he was good looking before, nothing can prepare you for the strange feeling that erupts in your stomach as he saunters into the room. 

“I guess Avengers eat sandwiches too,” Joaquin says, breaking the silence as he sits on one of the stools on the opposite side of the counter from you. He notices that your eyes are a little unfocused as you look at him, but then you blink and you’re back to normal.

You chuckle. “You say that like we’re some kind of special breed, Torres. I’m a human, too, sweetheart. We humans eat sandwiches.”  

Joaquin is pretty sure he feels his heart stop as you call him sweetheart. He’s not even thinking about the sandwich anymore. All he can think about is the fact that you never refer to him by his first name and the fact that you just gave him a nickname that he hasn’t been called since he worked in a supermarket as a teenager and the older ladies would fawn over how kind and lovely he was.

“Yeah, sandwiches are pretty great…” is all that he can manage to say, his head swimming with thoughts about how you’re so tough, so strong, but how the word sweetheart sounds like music coming from your mouth.

You look at him for a moment. “Are we really gonna stand here talking about sandwiches, Torres?” 

He pauses and attempts to clear his thoughts. “What else would we talk about?”

“I don’t know, but I really don’t feel like trading sandwich secrets with you,” you admit as you grab a knife and cut the sandwich in half before putting it on a plate. You push it to the side, then, and lean down on the bench, looking across it at Joaquin. “I wanna talk about the fact that you wore cologne to a sparring session at the gym.”

Joaquin is glad he’s not eating or drinking. He’s certain he would’ve choked on it. You telling him that he smelled good had been on replay in his mind for the entire sparring match against Sam and had definitely been the reason Sam had gotten a few punches in. He hadn’t thought you’d notice it, letalone mention it, and he’s pretty sure it’s worn off by now considering he’d sweated so much during the fight. But here you are, cornering him about it.

“I wanted to make a better second impression on you than my first one,” he explains, a little sheepishly.

Truthfully, his terrible first impression on you had been weighing on his mind. He’d made a total fool out of himself, even though you’d assured him that he hadn’t. He had decided very quickly that he needed to do better next time.

You look at him for a second and then extend your hand towards him. “Give me your phone for a sec,” you say.

Joaquin furrows his eyebrows. “Why do you want my phone? He replies, mid-way through grabbing it and handing it to you across the counter. There’s nothing on there that he’d be worried about you seeing. Well… apart from a few selfies in his camera roll.

“Because,” you start, taking the phone from him. “I want to put my number in it. We’re on the same team now and if you ever have any questions about fighting techniques or anything similar, shoot me a text and I can help.” You open up his contacts, adding yourself to them. “And because you are not going to make a good impression on me simply by wearing cologne to a sparring session, Torres.”

He takes his phone back from you after you finish adding in your number and places it on the bench in front of him. “How am I going to do that, then?”

“We may be Avengers, Torres, but that doesn’t mean every interaction we have has to be within the walls of this training facility. I’d honestly prefer that they aren’t,” you admit, shrugging your shoulders. “We should meet sometime out in the real world, where we’re just you and me instead of a Black Widow and the Falcon. Get to know more about each other rather than just our fighting styles.”

Joaquin finds himself smiling. He hadn’t expected that from you. According to Sam, you’re one of the best fighters and a damn good Avenger. He’d thought you’d want to keep things that way – co-workers and nothing more. He’s never been an Avenger before so he assumed that would be how it was – his friendship with Sam being the exception. But apparently not.

“You’d actually wanna do that?” He asks, a little in disbelief.

“No, actually. I just said all of that but I didn’t mean a single word,” you reply, deadpan. “Yes, of course I would want to do that, Torres. I do actually have a life outside of being an Avenger, you know. I don’t only exist in this facility.”

A thought pops into Joaquin’s mind… you have a life outside of this place, which means there’s a very possible chance that you might have a partner. Someone you go home to every night, someone that listens to your troubles and fears when it comes to your job.

Almost like you can read his mind, you speak again.

“I’m basically asking you on a date, Joaquin.”

His head snaps up, eyes meeting yours. “You– wait, you and me? You want to go on a date with me? You’re– you’re asking me?”

“What is with you and not believing me when I say things to you?” You laugh a little, shaking your head. “I’m not talking anything serious, hence the word basically, but yes. You don’t need to give me an answer straight away. You should take some time to think on it. This is only the second time we’ve met, after all.”

You stand up straight and pick up the plate with the sandwich before walking around the counter and sliding the plate in front of Joaquin. 

“Eat. You need to regain your strength after getting your ass kicked by Sam,” you hum. “And then text me yes or no once you’ve had some time to think, yeah?”

Before Joaquin can even recover from his shock enough to actually say yes to you, you’re gone. He spins around in his chair, eyes falling on the empty doorway. Then, he turns back around, picks up his phone and types out a message to you.

I don’t need time to think on it. I’m in. Yes.

[riddlesbunny]

delicate

summary: On a night out to forget his past, Aemond finds himself thinking of a future with you

pairing: Modern!Aemond x Stripper!Reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: Explicit smut, alcohol consumption, sex work, reader is a single mom, semi-public, lactation kink, mommy kink (yaaay), handjobs, cum play 18+ MDNI

note: This is a repost 🙈so if it flops, it flops

Aemond Targaryen was never a fan of strip clubs. He viewed them as not only a waste of time, but a waste of money. Spending ungodly amounts on overpriced, watered down drinks. Just for a girl who pretended to be attracted to him, could dance on him for a couple of hours. He always left feeling impure while glitter and the scent of cotton candy clung to his clothes. It just wasn’t his thing, he had better ways to spend his time.

And yet, he found himself on his way to one now, on a Tuesday night. With his heathen of a brother and his immature friends. What had become of him?

You’re on the opposite side of town, also getting ready for the evening. Hot steam and the scent of lavender invigorates your senses as you’ve just finished taking an ‘everything’ shower. You’re scrubbed to the bone, freshly exfoliated, shaved, and now lathering vanilla scented lotion onto your skin when your phone buzzes.

Aegon Targaryen.

Aegon was your typical rich, frat boy who frequented the club you worked at. Over the years he had become something more of a friend than a customer. He would sometimes bring you food, or weed, or a pack of cigarettes. He had even came to your defense when certain men would over step boundaries with you.

He was a good customer, gave a lot of money to the club – and to you. He wasn’t exactly your type but there was no denying he was attractive.

you workin tonight?

depends who’s asking 😈 jk … u know where to find me 💋

perfect. and not for me 😢 have a guy who needs a distraction. wear smth expensive!

oh? 👀🤨

money talks baby

💸💦

It’s a rainy Tuesday night, you’re not sure why you agreed to pick up a shift in the first place. But you could use some extra cash, and your daughter is at her dad’s this week.

Even though the club you work at is one of the busiest in Kings Landing, you anticipate it to be an uneventful evening. Aegon coming in changes things, maybe you’ll have some sort of fun, and st the the very least someone to talk to.

It’s just you and two other girls working tonight. There are three men sat around the stage as Floris dances, and Sara is occupied with a private dance in the back. As you predicted, a pretty slow night. You have the bartender make you a drink, a dirty shirley. You sit and tap on the glass waiting for some action when Aegon finally shows up.

He has a decent sized group of guys with him, most of which seem to already be under the influence. In order to not appear desperate you wait for him Aegon to come to you.

“Lookin’ good, girl!” he calls, leaning in to hug you, “and you wore expensive perfume, that’s a good girl,” he flirts as he slides you a $50 bill and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Is this for… your friend?”

“Not a friend,” he states proudly, a devilish grin on his face, “my brother.“

You look past Aegon to the group of guys he sauntered in with, and then you spot him. A tall, lean guy with hair the same shade as Aegon’s; except his is much shorter, and styled neatly. He’s aimlessly scrolling his phone, barely looking around. You notice he has a pack of Marlboro Menthols in his hand. With a cool demeanor and a jawline chiseled to perfection by the Gods themselves, you are in for it.

He resembles Aegon for sure, though he is much more handsome.

“Gods, there’s two of you,” you groan jokingly.

“Actually, there’s four of us,” Aegon corrects, “but one’s sixteen and the other is a girl, our sister.”

Aegon hardly ever spoke of his family and when he did it was never in detail. All you knew was that they were toxic, full of drama, lacking love, and filthy rich.

“That’s right. Well, what do I need to know about this one?”

“That’s Aemond. Go easy on him, he’s a major nerd, hates all things fun, and the club isn’t really his scene — total opposite of me,” he notes, “but he’s been hung up on this older woman and I need him to get under someone else to get over it.”

You raise your eyebrows at him a second time, unsure of what you’re getting yourself into.

“What can I say? We’re a complicated bunch, but it’s nothing you can’t handle, right princess?”

You giggle at the pet name and he grins before he smacks you hard on the ass.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

You glance over in Aemond’s direction again, now he sips on an old fashioned and his expression remains unreadable.

You decide to head to the back to quickly freshen yourself up. You’ll need to mentally prepare yourself before sinking your paws into Aegon’s sexy-as-hell brother. You brush out your curls, pick away any dried mascara from below your eyelids and generously apply more perfume. Baccarat 540, it was expensive, thank you very much.

You take a large sip of your own drink before you saunter your way back out front and over to the table where he sits.

"Hey! You look like you could use a friend" you purr, “can I offer you a dance?"

Aemond looks over to Aegon who is giving him a thumbs up before looking at you. His eye scans your body.

"Um, yeah,” he finally responds, swallowing thickly, “yeah, you can.”

This time he smiles as he checks you out.

"You wanna go somewhere more private?" you offer in a whisper, motioning to one of the closed off rooms, "ya know away from prying eyes?"

"Sure," he replies and your perfectly manicured fingers wrap around his wrist, dragging him to one of the rooms. Once you’re alone, tucked away behind the velvet curtain, he takes it upon himself to take a seat on the leather couch.

“So how does this work?" he questions nonchalantly, taking a large sip of his old fashioned.

“You’ve never gotten a private dance before?” you ask him and he shakes his head as he swallows.

“Oh, well, I’m flattered,” you giggle, taking a seat next to him, feeling him out.

“Well, while we’re in here,” you say as you place your palm on his leg, “I’m all yours,” you smile.

“All mine, huh?”

“That’s right,” you soon come realize that Aemond isn’t even sure what he wants. You take a large sip of your drink, finishing it off in one gulp.

You slowly straddle Aemond’s lap, refusing to break eye contact as you move your body to the rhythm of the song the booms through the speakers. Your palms glide over his lean chest, teasing and tantalizing as you continue to sway your hips. Aemond keeps a firm grip on the couch, his hands not leaving his sides. You reach down and take them in yours.

“You can touch me, I promise you won’t break me,” you encourage, guiding his hands up your body.

His hands run up and down your stomach, causing a fire to ignite in your belly. His touch is more gentle than what you’re used to. He uses his thumbs to swipe over the sheer fabric of your bra against your nipples. You gasp under his touch but he quickly removes his hands from you, yet you feel his cock grow harder underneath you.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, your hands flying to your breasts, instantly feeling two damp spots there. Fuck.

It’s something you know is inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any less awkward. All of your regulars are already aware of your situation, but with someone new and unsuspecting, it’s an uncomfortable conversation. You’d found a lot of men are actually turned on by it, but there is always that chance that the current one won’t be.

“I – I’m so sorry. I don’t usually confide this, erm, Aegon knows… I have a one year old who’s still breastfeeding.”

Aemond appears to be at a loss for words. You need to get up before he can reject you himself.

“Let me just—” He stares at you intently as you’re about to remove yourself from his lap. He is definitely caught off guard by your confession, but not in the negative way that you think.

“That’s no problem,” he says huskily as he composes himself, “you stay right here.” His gaze is piercing as he keeps his hands firm on your hips, the cool metal of his rings digs into your flesh as he holds you in place in his lap.

“Alright, if you’re sure,” you mutter back to him, feeling relieved.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he tells you, the bulge in his pants evidently harder than it was earlier.

You study him carefully, there is a hunger in his eye that wasn’t there before, even moments ago. It’s as if his entire demeanor has changed. You figure you can use this to your advantage.

“I don’t usually do this, but I’m making an exception,” you tell him as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the dirty floor.

“Because I’m Aegon’s brother?” he asks.

“No, because …. I want to.”

It was true, you didn’t normally get this intimate with customers, but something about Aemond was drawing you in.

Aemond’s eye widens as you reveal your glistening nipples to him. You squeeze at your breast lightly, grinding yourself into him, and he rewards you with a moan. your thumb around your nipple, gathering some of your milk onto it before rubbing it along Aemond’s lower lip. He eagerly accepts it into his mouth, sucking it harshly, nipping at your fingertip.

“You like that?”

“Mhm,” he groans against you, releasing your thumb before leaning forward into you. He smells good, expensive cologne and nicotine. His lips find their way to your neck, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. His fingers ghost down your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You arch into him, wanting more.

He continues to move at an agonizingly slow pace, taking his time with you as his lips make their way from your throat down to your chest. Your breath hitches once his tongue finally comes in contact with your nipple, lapping at the droplets of milk there. He takes your flesh into his mouth, gently suckling, careful not to apply too much pressure.

Your mind is going hazy as arousal leaks from your core, you grind down harder on him.

Aemond continues to suckle at your breast, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as he drinks from you with ease. His eyes are closed, his mind completely lost to the sensation of you in his mouth. Your body trembles against him and he feels it, your small whimpers and moans sending waves urging him on.

He pulls away slowly, and you wince at the loss of contact. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses across your skin as he looks up at you with glassy eyes.

You lean back, positioning yourself so that you have access to the button of Aemond’s jeans.

“Can I?” you ask.

He nods his head eagerly, unbuttoning them for you and yanking the zipper down with quickness.

You wrap your hand around his length, tugging gently as your free hand flies to the back of his head, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck.

You lean down to cup and squeeze his balls as he sucks at your right breast.

“Fuck, M-mommy,” he moans.

Your eyes widen at his choice of words but they stir something in you.

“You wanna be a good boy and cum for mommy baby?”

“Yes! I’m — I’m good,” he stutters, rutting himself up into your palm.

Your hand works quicker as he finds himself back at your chest. Drinking from you like a man starved.

A few more languid pumps of his cock and he’s shooting thick, pearly ropes into your hand. You move your hand down lower to cup and squeeze at his balls for a moment before bringing it back to your mouth, licking away the salty remnants as Aemond shoves his cock back into his pants.

As if right on schedule, the timer you set on your phone to keep track of the time goes off.

“Well, looks like our time’s up,” you say with a frown.

“Looks like it,” he replies and the air swells with tension.

You turn to leave to give him a moment to find his composure, get himself together but he yanks at your wrist.

“Wait! Let me take you out!” he blurts out at you, “on a date, a real one. Please.”

You lean up to wipe a smudge of your lipgloss from the corner of his mouth.

“This was paid for, ya know?” You say empathetically and his eye darkens.

Great. You’ve offended him.

“I know that,” he says sternly, “Just, I want to take you out. Please. Just one date.”

“One date,” you repeat.

“Yes,” he assures, his good eye gleaming.

“Okay.”

You give Aemond your phone number and you let him add his to your phone.

“I will text you,” he assured before he goes to exit the room. You follow him out and watch as he makes his way back to Aegon who is bright eyed and clapping at his brother.

You make eye contact with Aegon and he mouths something to you that you are unable to decipher.

What have you gotten yourself into?

[sh4nksslvt]

hii, could you write me a fem!reader that doesn't have an established relationship but they both have very obvious feelings for each other, however reader seeks help from someone else in a rough battle?

could be feelings with sanji and looks for help from zoro or the opposite, or flirts with shanks and looks for beckmann's help or literally anyone you feel ot fits

thx!!

tis not much but hope its to ur liking! (★ ω ★)

Tangled Hearts in the Heat of Battle

In the midst of a chaotic battle, Y/N's call for Sanji's help sparks Zoro's jealousy, leading to a heartfelt moment that hints at their mutual feelings.

zoro x fem! reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, jealousy, mutual pining, action, pre-timeskip, ooc(?) a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe n akward word count: 1.8k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The Going Merry rocked violently as cannon fire echoed across the sea, the Straw Hat Pirates caught in the crosshairs of a ruthless pirate crew. The enemy ship, a hulking vessel bristling with cannons, loomed like a predator. You gripped the railing, your heart pounding as you scanned the deck. Chaos reigned—Luffy was a blur, slingshotting himself at the enemy captain, while Usopp fired from the crow’s nest, his legs shaking but his aim true. Nami barked orders, trying to steer the ship out of the line of fire, and Sanji was a whirlwind, kicking enemies with lethal precision.

Your eyes darted to Zoro, standing at the forefront of the deck, his swords flashing as he carved through a wave of attackers. His green hair was slick with sweat, his bandana tied firmly around his head, and his expression was pure focus—intense, unyielding, and, you had to admit, unfairly attractive. Your stomach flipped, a familiar warmth spreading through you despite the chaos. You’d been nursing a crush on the swordsman for months, though you’d never admit it out loud. His gruff demeanor, dry humor, and unshakable loyalty to the crew had wormed their way into your heart. And sometimes, when he looked at you a little too long or smirked at one of your quips, you wondered if he felt the same.

But now wasn’t the time for daydreams. A cannonball whizzed past, splintering part of the railing. You ducked, cursing under your breath. You weren’t a powerhouse like Zoro or Sanji, but you were quick, resourceful, and decent with a sword. Still, this fight was overwhelming. The enemy crew outnumbered you, and their fighters were relentless.

“Y/N, get back!” Zoro’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. He was suddenly in front of you, deflecting a sword strike aimed at your head. The attacker stumbled back, and Zoro dispatched him with a single slash of Wado Ichimonji.

“I’m fine!” you snapped, though your voice wavered. You hated feeling like a liability, especially in his eyes. “I can handle myself!”

Zoro shot you a look—half exasperation, half something softer you couldn’t quite place. “Don’t be stupid. Stay sharp, or you’ll get yourself killed.”

Before you could retort, another wave of enemies swarmed the deck. Zoro spun away, his swords a blur as he took on three at once. You tightened your grip on your sword, heart racing. You could hold your own, but the sheer number of opponents was daunting. One of them, a burly man with a scarred face, locked eyes with you. He grinned, raising a massive axe.

“Oh, crap,” you muttered, dodging as the axe came down, splintering the deck where you’d stood. You slashed at his arm, drawing blood, but he barely flinched. He swung again, and you stumbled, your back hitting the mast. Panic surged as he loomed over you, his axe raised for a killing blow.

“Sanji!” you shouted, desperation kicking in. The cook was closer than Zoro, who was buried in his own fight across the deck. “Help!”

In an instant, Sanji was there, his leg arcing through the air. “Diable Jambe!” His flaming kick sent the axeman flying, crashing into the ship’s railing. Sanji landed gracefully, turning to you with a dazzling smile. “You alright, Y/N-chan? No need to worry when I’m around.”

You exhaled, relief flooding you. “Thanks, Sanji. I owe you one.”

“Anything for you, my dear~” he said, winking as he lit a cigarette. He offered you a hand, pulling you to your feet with a flourish. “Stay close, alright? I’ll keep you safe.”

You nodded, catching your breath, but your eyes flicked to Zoro. He was still fighting, but his gaze was on you, his jaw tight. Was that… annoyance in his eyes? You shook it off, focusing on the battle. There was no time to overthink.

The fight raged on, but with Sanji covering you, you found your rhythm. You darted around, slashing at enemies’ weak points while Sanji handled the heavy hitters. His flirtatious comments kept things light, even as you dodged blades and bullets.

“Looking lovely even in a fight, Y/N-chaann~” Sanji called, spinning to kick an enemy away. “Care to dance after this?”

You laughed despite yourself. “Focus, Sanji!”

Across the deck, Zoro’s movements grew sharper, almost reckless. He cut through enemies with brutal efficiency, but his glances kept drifting to you and Sanji. Once, when Sanji blocked a strike meant for you and flashed you another grin, Zoro muttered something under his breath, his grip tightening on his swords.

Finally, the enemy ship began to retreat, their crew decimated and their captain unconscious, courtesy of Luffy’s relentless assault. The Straw Hats cheered, exhausted but victorious. You slumped against the mast, wiping sweat from your brow. Sanji was instantly at your side, offering you a glass of water he’d somehow produced from nowhere.

“For you, my savior,” he said, bowing dramatically.

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “You’re ridiculous...Thanks again.”

Zoro approached, sheathing his swords. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked between you and Sanji. “You good?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“Yeah,” you said, meeting his gaze. “Thanks to Sanji.”

Sanji beamed, but Zoro’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Tch. You shouldn’t need to call for him,” he muttered, turning away. “Next time, stick closer to me.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the edge in his tone. Was he… jealous? Before you could respond, he stalked off toward the crow’s nest, probably to nap or brood. Sanji raised an eyebrow, smirking.

“Someone’s grumpy,” he said, lighting another cigarette. “Wonder what’s got him so worked up?”

You glared at him. “Don’t start.”

Sanji chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “Just saying, Y/N-chan. If you ever need a knight in shining armor, I’m right here.”

You shook your head, hiding a smile as you walked away. Your thoughts, though, were on Zoro. His words replayed in your mind: Stick closer to me. Did he mean it strategically, or was there... something more?

That evening, the crew gathered on the deck for a makeshift celebration. Nami had cracked open a bottle of sake, and Luffy was devouring a mountain of meat while Usopp spun an exaggerated tale of his “heroic” sniping. You sat on a barrel, nursing a drink, your eyes drifting to Zoro. He was leaning against the railing, staring out at the sea, his bandana off and his hair catching the moonlight.

You took a deep breath and approached him, your heart doing that annoying fluttery thing again. “Hey,” you said, leaning against the railing beside him. “You were incredible out there today.”

He grunted, not looking at you. “Just doing my job.”

You frowned, sensing his mood. “You okay? You’ve been… off since the fight.”

He finally turned to you, his dark eyes intense. “...You called for that damn cook instead of me.”

You blinked, surprised. “What? I called for Sanji because he was closer. You were halfway across the deck, buried in enemies!”

Zoro’s jaw clenched. “Doesn’t matter. You should’ve called for me.”

You crossed your arms, a mix of frustration and amusement bubbling up. “Zoro, are you seriously mad about this? I was about to get flattened by a guy twice my size. I called for help, not a marriage proposal.”

He scowled, looking away. “Tch. Forget it.”

“No, I’m not forgetting it,” you said, stepping closer. “What’s your deal? You’ve been glaring at Sanji all day.”

Zoro’s eyes flicked back to you, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t like seeing you rely on him. That’s all.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Why not?”

He hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. “Because I should be the one you call. I’m… better at protecting you.”

You stared at him, the words sinking in. Was he saying what you thought he was? “Zoro, you’re always protecting me. All of us. But I can’t always wait for you to cut through a dozen guys to reach me. Sanji was just there.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like it,” he muttered, almost petulant. “He’s always fawning over you...It’s annoying.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. “Oh my god, are you jealous?”

Zoro’s face reddened, and he turned away, muttering, “Tch. Shut up.”

“No, no, this is too good,” you teased, poking his arm. “Roronoa Zoro, the big scary swordsman, jealous because I asked Sanji for help? This is gold.”

He glared at you, but there was no real heat in it. “Keep talking, and I’ll toss you overboard.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you said, grinning. You softened, stepping closer until your shoulder brushed his. “Zoro, I’m fine. And for the record, I’d rather have you watching my back any day.”

His expression softened, just a fraction. “...Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice quieter. “You’re kind of my favorite, you know.”

He froze, his eyes widening slightly. You felt your own cheeks heat up, realizing how bold that sounded. Before you could backtrack, he turned fully toward you, his gaze intense.

“Say that again,” he said, his voice low.

You swallowed, your heart pounding. “You’re my favorite.”

He stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him. “Good. Because you’re mine, too.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you. The sounds of Luffy’s laughter and Usopp’s storytelling faded, and all you could see was Zoro—his sharp jawline, his dark eyes, the way his lips twitched into a rare, soft smile.

Then, because the universe hated you, Sanji’s voice cut through the moment. “Y/N-chaaann~ I made you a special dessert to celebrate our victory!”

Zoro’s smile vanished, replaced by a scowl. You stifled a laugh, turning to see Sanji approaching with a plate of something fruity and decadent. “Thanks, Sanji,” you said, taking the plate. “You didn’t have to.”

“For you, anything,” he said, winking. He glanced at Zoro, his smirk widening. “None for you, mosshead.”

“Get lost, ero-cook,” Zoro growled, his hand twitching toward his swords.

Sanji laughed, unfazed, and sauntered off, whistling. You turned back to Zoro, who was glaring at the cook’s retreating back.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, nudging him. “He’s just being Sanji.”

“He’s a pain in the ass,” Zoro muttered, but he relaxed slightly, his eyes returning to you. “You meant it, right? About me being your favorite?”

You smiled, your heart swelling. “Yeah, Zoro. I meant it.”

He nodded, a satisfied grunt escaping him. “Good. Just… call for me next time, alright?”

You laughed softly, leaning against him. “Deal.”

The two of you stood there, watching the sea, the tension between you shifting into something warm, something new. Maybe you weren’t quite there yet—confessions and battles didn’t instantly mean a relationship—but for now, this was enough. Zoro’s arm brushed against yours, and you knew, without a doubt, that he’d always be there when you needed him.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d find a way to tell him how much that meant to you.

[wttcsms]

college athlete!reader who’s on a full ride, sure, but you still need money for living expenses and with a full schedule and your dedication to the sport, you can’t just get a job. so what does a young, attractive girl do? go on a sugar daddy site & hope you find someone who wants to keep things discreet, too. most of the men don’t have a profile picture or say too much about themselves, which is understandable. the only decent conversation you have is with some alleged millionaire who claims to be a pretty high profile/recognizable figure, which is why he doesn’t want to show his face. he has his own busy schedule, and he always hints at meeting up but never makes plans. you think your idea of finding a sugar daddy is a total bust. your bio explicitly asked for a “an anonymous sponsor for a rising college athlete! <3”. of course you were just going to get a bunch of old creeps begging for gym pics.

you only tell one person that you’re going to delete the app soon: the only guy who was fun to talk to. he might be lying abt being high profile or a millionaire, but he’s funny and entertaining and surprisingly good at pep talks to. you actually connected with him for a bit. he doesn’t reply back when you tell him your goodbye, but in the middle of a lecture, your phone won’t stop going off.

character — one of the top pro athletes in your sport — just shared one of your posts to his story. with his cult following and popularity, this is enough to have all eyes on you. you can hardly believe it. you don’t even know how you got onto his radar!!!

until you receive a notification from your sd app. he’s finally replied back.

“sorry. i know you wanted to keep things a secret and have an anonymous sponsor, but like i said, i’m high profile.”

[itsnesss]

𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧 | minho (xo,kitty) × fem!reader

OO1. OO2. OO3.

summary | during a weekend getaway, unspoken tension between you and minho comes to a head despite his relationship. a stolen kiss leaves you conflicted, torn between your feelings and doing what’s right

warnings | fluff, infidelity, tension, kisses, emotional conflict

word count | 1.6 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The invitation arrived unexpectedly at night. You were about to finish your tasks when your phone buzzed with a message in the group chat you shared with your friends.

Min Ho: "Hey, losers. This weekend, I’m inviting you to my dad’s cabin. Before you start making pathetic plans, confirm who’s coming. It’s going to be epic."

You stared at the message, surprised. Min Ho didn’t usually organize things like this… or at least, he didn’t invite everyone. Yuri was the first to reply.

Yuri: "Of course, we’re coming! Although I can’t believe you’re being generous. Is this a joke?"

Juliana: "I’m in! I wouldn’t miss it!"

Q: "Count me in."

Then, a message from Stella, his girlfriend, appeared.

Stella: "It’ll be fun. 💕"

For a moment, you hesitated. There was something about the idea of spending a weekend with Min Ho that made you feel… nervous. For months, there had been this strange tension between you two: glances that lasted longer than they should, little jokes only you understood, and an electricity you tried to ignore. But he had a girlfriend. And you weren’t that kind of person.

Still, you finally typed: "I’m in."

Min Ho: "Good choice. See you Friday at 5 PM. Don’t be late.

The weekend came quickly. Everyone gathered in the KISS parking lot, where Min Ho waited with his cars. Stella took the passenger seat, and you ended up in the back, squeezed between Yuri and Juliana. During the ride, Min Ho drove with a confidence that was as infuriating as it was attractive, throwing sarcastic comments that seemed aimed directly at you.

"Ready for the best weekend of your life?" he asked, briefly glancing back at you with a smug grin.

"I don’t know, Min Ho. You’ll have to try really hard to impress me," you replied, crossing your arms.

The "cabin" turned out to be a luxury villa in the middle of the forest, with huge windows, modern furniture, and a lake view straight out of a postcard. "Welcome to paradise," Min Ho said, spreading his arms wide.

The afternoon passed with board games, walks by the lake, and laughter. Stella was more interested in her phone than the group, leaving Min Ho free to talk to you more than he should have. His comments seemed harmless, but there was something in his tone and the way he looked at you that made your heart beat faster than usual.

When night fell, Yuri suggested using the outdoor jacuzzi. "It’s the perfect way to end the day!"

"I hope you all brought decent swimsuits," Min Ho said, throwing you a teasing look.

"I hope you talk less," you shot back, meeting his gaze.

The jacuzzi was surrounded by warm lights that gave the garden a tranquil atmosphere. Everyone got in, laughing, and for a while, you managed to relax. Min Ho, as always, dominated the conversation with exaggerated stories, but his eyes kept finding yours. That invisible connection you’d both been ignoring was there, growing stronger by the minute.

One by one, your friends began to leave the jacuzzi. Yuri and Juliana were the first, saying they were cold. Then Q, who yawned dramatically before saying goodnight. Finally, Stella said, "I’m going to bed, love. Don’t stay too long," planting a kiss on Min Ho’s cheek before disappearing into the villa.

Now, you were alone with him. You tried to focus on the starry sky, but the silence between you was too heavy. Finally, Min Ho broke the ice.

"Why do you always do that?"

You turned to him, confused. "Do what?"

"Pretend like nothing matters to you," he said, leaning against the edge of the jacuzzi as he stared at you.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, Min Ho," you replied, crossing your arms.

"Yes, you do," he insisted, with that infuriating smile that made your heart race and drove you crazy at the same time.

"If you’re looking for a fight, find someone else," you retorted, turning your gaze back to the water.

But he didn’t back down. "I’m not looking for a fight. I just want to understand why you act like you don’t feel the same way I do."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Min Ho, you have a girlfriend."

"That doesn’t answer my question," he said, leaning a little closer to you.

You looked him straight in the eye, trying to stay calm. "Because it doesn’t make sense, Min Ho. We’re different. You’re… you. And I don’t want complications."

"Complications?" he repeated, as if he couldn’t believe it. "Is that what you think I am?"

"No," you admitted softly. "But all of this would be. I don’t want to be the reason someone gets hurt."

For a moment, Min Ho didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, a mix of frustration and something else in his eyes. Finally, he spoke. "Do you know what your problem is? You always try to do the right thing, even when it’s not what you want."

"And that’s a bad thing, according to you?" you replied, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but…" he began, then stopped. He sighed, as if he was about to confess something important. "I’ve been trying to ignore this for months. But every time I’m near you, it’s like nothing else exists."

His words left you breathless. You wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. And then, before you could think about what you were doing, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow, intense, and full of everything you both had been holding back. His hands gently cupped your face, while the world around you seemed to disappear. But just as you were starting to lose yourself in the moment, reality hit you like a bucket of cold water.

You pulled away abruptly, your heart pounding. "This shouldn’t have happened," you said, moving away from him.

Min Ho looked at you, confused. "Why not?"

"Because you have a girlfriend, Min Ho. Stella trusts you. I can’t be that person."

"And what about what I feel? Or what you feel?" he asked, his voice softer this time.

"That doesn’t matter. It can’t matter," you whispered, your eyes filled with a sadness you couldn’t hide.

You quickly got up, wrapping the towel around your body. "I’m sorry, but this isn’t right."

Without waiting for a response, you walked back to the villa, leaving Min Ho alone. His words, and the warmth of his kiss, echoed in your mind as you walked away. This shouldn’t have happened. It couldn’t happen. And yet, a part of you wished things were different.

[cece693]

You're Just Jealous of Me

pairing: the salvatore brothers x male reader tags: reader knows he's manipulative and a slut, you just don't care tbh, Elena has an aneurysm from not being the main character, the brothers know they're getting played, you're just that hot/beautiful/perfect for them to give you up, Elena bashing, no incest

"I can't believe you." Elena exclaimed, her eyes growing misty as you were getting ready to head out with Damon on a date. It hadn't even been a week since they broke up (something about her needing stability or some other bullshit) and you didn't care. All that mattered was getting through yet another 'poor me' moment without killing her and making it seem like an accident.

Seriously, what did your sister expect? That Damon was going to stay single for the rest of his days until she made a fucking choice between him and Stefan? Perhaps some of her betrayal stemmed from the fact that Stefan had also rejected her ass and had made it clear he didn't feel anything for her anymore. So now poor Elena had no one while you played with both brothers.

And it wasn't even 'playing' per se if they knew about the whole situation. You could fuck any of them, and they'll be fine with it—a thing you made clear to them when this whole thing started. You liked both brothers, but having to choose just one was unfair—they both had traits that attracted you, and if you couldn't have both, then you'll settle for nothing. Like eager children they agreed. The arrangement was abnormal to others, but for you it worked—you dated both brothers, they still hated each other (entertaining fights arising from their competitiveness on who you liked more, who was 'rocking' your world, etc.) Simple really.

"Save the tears for the pillow, sister. I’m really not in the mood—nor will I ever be—to entertain your pity parties." Pulling on one of Damon’s leather jackets, you smirked. You were a sight to behold—not only would Damon be eager to rip the clothes off you, but half the population would, too.

It was fun stirring the pot, watching Damon bare his teeth at anyone who thought they stood a chance. Jealousy was his kryptonite, and while a part of you hated targeting one of his insecurities, you always reassured him in bed of your devotion, loyalty, and love.

Yes, because at the end of the day, you loved both Salvatore brothers. This wasn't just some passing fantasy, nor was it some revenge scheme against your sister (though you did love tormenting her with the fact that you were dating the two). You were willing to throw away your human life to become a vampire—to spend eternity by their side.

"Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to cause this!" Now there was the Elena you knew all too well—the one who constantly placed themselves as the victim, putting blame unto you because who could ever hate a girl who lost her parents?

You let out a humorless laugh, crossing your arms over your chest. “You really want to go there?” you snap, not bothering to hide the derision in your voice. “Fine. For starters, you’ve always made Jeremy and me feel like shit, and the few times you did act like a decent human being were just so you didn’t look like a total bitch.”

“That’s not true!” she protests, anger tightening her features.

“It is, Elena,” you spit back. “When our parents died, you didn’t do a damn thing to help us cope. You were so wrapped up in your own grief, your own fucking melodrama, that you never once checked on Jeremy or me—unless, of course, it was to nag us about how we were coping. When Jeremy started doing drugs, you freaked the fuck out. Not because you cared, but because you were afraid of how it might make you look. God forbid anyone sees that the 'perfect' Elena Gilbert can’t keep her family together or help her brother kick his drug habit.”

She flinches, but you weren't done. Oh, no. You were just beginning to go down the list of why you hated her ass. "Then, when I began to hook up with Damon, you acted like I was the cause of our parents death—no, that's on you because Elena couldn't help herself and got drunk, needing a ride home at midnight. Sleeping with Damon was like I'd personally betray you."

Her cheeks flush crimson. “Well, you did! You—”

“I did what, Elena?” You take a step forward, towering over her. “I moved on? Found something that might actually make me happy? Meanwhile, you’ve been stringing both Damon and Stefan along for God knows how long. You made your choice—you dumped Damon, tried getting back with Stefan, when he told you to fuck off, you tried going back to Damon and he said the same thing. So now you’re standing here, arms crossed, lip trembling, trying to put the blame on me because you lost your backup plan.”

Her lips press into a thin line, eyes brimming with tears. But you’ve seen this act before—she’ll blink prettily, glance away like a wounded animal, and wait for you to console her. Only this time, you won't.

“You are an asshole,” she hisses, eyes narrowed into slits. “He was mine first.”

That makes you laugh, a harsh sound echoing off the hallway walls. “Right...possessive much? People aren’t property, Elena. He’s not a damn handbag you lend out when it suits you. If Damon wants to be with me, that’s his call. And if I want to keep him, that’s mine.”

She trembles, either from anger or heartbreak—you can’t tell, and frankly, you don’t care. “Why would you do this?” she asks again, her voice cracking. “What have I ever done—”

You rolled your eyes so hard you got a slight headache. "Did you even listen to me? I have every reason to hate you, so does Jeremy and the rest of Mystic Falls. Those who continue to stand by you are either stupid or hope they'll get some attention from your desperate ass. I'm done. I’m done letting you guilt-trip me. I’m done tiptoeing around your precious feelings. I’m fucking over it, Elena.”

Just then, Damon appears in the doorway, that trademark smirk on his face. “Ready?” he asks, taking in the tension between you two. His gaze flicks to the tears glistening in her eyes before returning to you. “I’m guessing we’re skipping the family therapy session?”

“Therapy? More like the mandatory guilt trip, which I’ve politely declined.”

Elena’s voice wavers, “Damon, how can you just—”

He cuts her off with a raised hand, posture casual but his eyes dangerously dark. “Stop, Elena. What we had is over. You made that choice before, remember? I’m done letting you waltz in and out of my life whenever it’s convenient for you.” You can practically feel the hatred radiating off her in waves. She’s not used to being shut down, especially not by Damon, the semi-reformed bad boy who once hung on her every word. It must sting. Oh, well. Her loss.

“As much as I loved talking to you, sister, I do believe we're running late. Don't wait up and please, if you're going to continue crying, leave my room. Keep wallowing if you want. Hell, cry yourself a fucking river. Just don’t stain my carpet.” Without another glance at Elena, you brush past Damon, and he steps aside for you to lead. He follows, closing the door behind you both, leaving your sister alone in her silence.

You descend the porch steps and greet the night air with a sigh of relief, reveling in the silence that isn’t tainted by Elena’s incessant whining. Damon slips an arm around your shoulders, guiding you toward his car parked beneath a streetlamp. His touch is warm, confident—like he’s proud of the chaos you’ve left behind.

“She’ll get over it,” he says, glancing at you with one of those trademark smirks that used to make Elena weak at the knees. Now, it just fuels your own sense of dark satisfaction.

“She’d better,” you mutter. “I’m not putting up with her drama anymore. If she wants to play the victim, she can do it alone. I’ve got better things to do.”

Damon’s grin widens. “That’s the spirit. So, where are we headed, anyway? We never actually nailed down the specifics.”

You shrug, placing an arm around his waist and snuggling closer to his side. “Anywhere but here. Got a craving for something stiff—drink or otherwise.” The innuendo doesn’t slip past him. His eyes flash with interest, and you can’t deny that thrill you get from watching Damon Salvatore light up over you instead of your sister.

“Sounds like the Grill for starters,” he suggests with a casual tilt of his head. “They might have a halfway decent bourbon I can drown myself in. As for the ‘otherwise,’ well…” He lets the sentence hang, the possibility of later events sparking arousal for the both of you.

You’re about to respond when you spot Stefan leaning against Damon's Camaro. Typical. Even without super-hearing, you know he’s probably caught every word you exchanged with Elena. Damned vampires. "What are you doing here?" Damon was the first who spoke, hand tightening over your body. As if he was a child preventing his favorite toy to be taken away from him.

"Nothing, really. I was just walking around the neighborhood and saw your car parked. But now that I see you're here with my boyfriend, I guess I have time to join you two at the grill."

"Our boyfriend."

You simply laugh at Stefan’s innocent tone, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. Just a few minutes ago, you were telling off Elena and storming out of the house. Now you’re pinned between two vampires—both of whom are technically yours, and you are theirs. Welcome to the wonderful, fucked-up world of Mystic Falls.

“‘Our’ boyfriend,” you echo, looking from Stefan to Damon. “Are you two seriously going to argue semantics right now? Pick a damn fight over who saw me first?” A scoff escapes you as you shrug off Damon’s possessive grip just enough to stand on your own. You’re not some chew toy they get to tug-of-war over.

Stefan cocks a brow, his expression cool but laced with a hint of smugness. “I’m not here to fight,” he says, his gaze flicking to Damon. “Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t excluded. Last time I checked, this was a joint arrangement.”

Damon’s jaw clenches. Clearly, he remembers crashing your date with Stefan last week—and how you’d had to smooth over the tension in ways that involved very little clothing and a lot of apologizing on his part. “We’re not excluding you, Saint Stefan. But we do have plans that don’t involve your pensive brooding.”

Stefan straightens, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, so your plan is to get drunk at the Grill and then…whatever else…” He waves a hand dismissively, “doesn’t appeal to me?” He tilts his head in mock curiosity. “You sure about that?”

You snort. “Children, please. If you both really wanted to rip each other’s heads off, you’d have done it ages ago. Let’s just go. All this talk is making my head hurt.”

Damon lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. “Fine. But if Stefan starts preaching about morality or—God forbid—Elena, I’m leaving him to pay the tab.”

Stefan’s smirk grows. “I’d pick a better conversation starter than Elena, trust me.”

You give an unimpressed half-smile. “Don’t even mention her name. As far as I’m concerned, she doesn’t exist unless she’s blocking my path to a stiff drink.”

That shuts both of them up. They exchange a quick glance—some silent vampire communication or whatever—then Damon jerks his head toward the passenger door. “Shotgun’s yours,” he says to you, ever the gentleman when it comes to seating. To Stefan, he adds begrudgingly, “Guess you can squeeze into the back...or the trunk.”

Stefan’s lip twitches like he’s fighting off a retort, but he says nothing. Instead, he silently moves to the rear door. You can’t help but grin. It’s absurd that they both share you yet still bicker like five-year-olds over the smallest shit. But hey, maybe that’s part of the charm.

Once inside Damon’s Camaro, you sink into the leather seat, adjusting your legs as you feel Stefan’s presence behind you. The tension is thick—crackling with desire, frustration, and that constant competition. You kind of love it. Damon revs the engine, and the car peels away from the curb.

“Any chance we can make this a quick pit stop at the Grill?” you say, your gaze shifting between them. “I need something to eat, maybe a drink or two, but I’m not really in the mood to fraternize with the entire damn town.”

Damon flicks you a sidelong glance. “Someone’s impatient. Looking to skip straight to dessert, sweetheart?”

A grin tugs at your lips. “I’d just rather not get cornered by whichever idiot wants the latest gossip on Elena’s meltdown.”

Stefan leans forward, resting his forearms on the front seats. “We can be in and out in under thirty minutes. Grab some wings, maybe a bourbon—or three—and leave.” He lowers his voice suggestively. “After that, I wouldn’t mind some privacy.”

Damon makes a sound of reluctant agreement. “Deal. But don’t whine when you realize your tolerance is way lower than mine, Brother.”

Stefan just smirks. “Don’t worry about me, Damon. Worry about yourself.”

The quick banter settles into a charged silence as the lights of Mystic Falls blur by. The neon sign of the Grill soon comes into view, and Damon maneuvers into a parking spot with practiced ease.

“Let’s get this over with,” you mutter, pushing the car door open. “I’m not about to waste my entire night entertaining half-drunk townspeople.”

Stepping onto the sidewalk, you can already see a few familiar faces through the window—Caroline, Matt, maybe Tyler. You can’t be bothered to care. The only drama you want tonight is the kind that ends in moans, not tears. And if Elena hasn’t slithered over here yet, you might just get your way.

Damon slides an arm around your waist possessively again, and Stefan eyes the gesture with an annoyance that’s as old as time. You sigh inwardly. No matter how many times you remind them you belong to both, they still can’t help but try to stake their separate claims. Vampire pride, maybe.

As you head inside, the ambient chatter and smell of bar food envelop you. A few heads turn—this is Mystic Falls, after all, and you’re making a very public entrance with both Salvatores. Let them stare. Let them talk.

“Your usual table?” Damon asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you say. “Let’s just grab a seat and order. I’m fucking starving.”

The three of you slip into a booth. Damon slides in beside you, Stefan on the opposite side. A cute server looks mildly flustered as she hands out menus. You can see her eyes flick between Damon and Stefan, likely recalling the messy history each has with Elena. If she notices you’re with them in a more intimate sense, she doesn’t comment. Probably for the best.

“So,” Damon says, flipping open the menu, “bourbon and wings? Or do we want to start with something stronger?”

Stefan doesn’t bother with the menu. “I’ll have what you’re having,” he says with a forced casualness, drumming his fingers on the table. He’s clearly aware eyes are on you three. You can practically feel the tension rolling off him—like he’s waiting for the next potential disaster.

You roll your eyes at the both of them. “Bourbon’s fine. Then if someone pisses me off, we can move on to whiskey shots until I forget this entire night.”

Damon flashes that trademark smirk. “You, pissed off? Shocking.”

Stefan snorts, finally cracking a faint smile. “I’m sure we’ll manage to avoid any drama.”

A short, barking laugh leaves you. “In this town? With the three of us in the same damn booth? Doubtful.”

But you push aside the building dread. Because at least you’re here on your terms, Elena’s sob story is miles away, and you have both Salvatores at your side—bickering, sure, but ultimately yours. And that realization, twisted as it might be, makes a satisfied grin curl your lips. With a raised brow, you signal the server for your order. Let the vultures talk, let Elena sulk. You’ve got bigger, better things to do tonight—and two vampires to do them with.

“Bring on the bourbon,” you say, leaning back. “I’ve got all fucking night.”

[the-balloon-shed]

a silly icemav headcanon (tiny ficlet at this point since jeepers I couldn't help myself) because I have an angsty headcanon in the drafts and this is just funsies

I am a firm believer that while Ice can cook, he does not enjoy cooking.

yes, he can follow a recipe. he knows how to feed himself. he understands how it works, and by all accounts isn't even a bad cook. but to him it is absolutely a chore. he does not find any art in it, he does not find any fun in "planning a meal." if he does not have something that a recipe asks for, or if he screws something up, he is not fond of improvising and not particularly good at it -- it just pisses him off. I actually even think he'd prefer baking (at least simple items) because there's something a little more structured about that -- it's more precision and chemistry, and it all becomes the "pastry" or "cookie" or whatever and it's done. cooking you can have eight different pots and pans and the textures have to marry well together but it can't all be the same texture or else it's just not right, and it's planning at least two separate elements to make a single good meal and it's annoying. the last thing he wants to eat is the taste of his own cooking. if he could hire someone to do a single daily job for him, it would be cooking. the most attractive thing a partner can surprise him with is that they like to cook so he rarely has to (rarely because he's not an asshole -- he will cook for them for special occasions or if their day is rough, but if they enjoy cooking they are absolutely welcome to take that job off his hands). He's even more happy to assist someone in cooking, he can play sous chef, he can chop onions and stir pots and help clean up after, that's all fine. it's the process of "meal making" that drives him insane and he hates, so please, someone else do it.

enter Mav!

Mav, who does enjoy cooking. Mav who can throw together decent-tasting meals together out of a pantry that looks like it's full of dust. Mav who didn't really get the opportunity to play around with recipes when he was younger so as he gets older he just tries stuff. Yes, this sometimes leads to things that he never wants to eat again (that protein-shake-oatmeal concoction he made when he didn't have enough milk for both was like eating glue), but sometimes he comes up with real winners! (hey, turns out that you really can't go wrong with leftover chicken, frozen broccoli, and plenty of cheese). he likes that in cooking he can do a bunch of things at once and can have a bunch of things going. he even doesn't mind going to the store and planning meals, he even likes making meals for other people. when Carole and Goose were stressed out of their minds with Bradley and he happened to have the extra time, he made meals for the week for them. When he visits Carole after Goose's death, he always makes sure to have a bunch of meals prepped and frozen for her and Bradley to have after he's gone so that she can have something quick and easy when she can't do it herself (because Carole, too, likes cooking, but single mom with a kid sometimes it's just too fucking much in a day). Mav likes learning about old recipes, and also just likes playing around with stuff. He also tends to like his food spicy as all get-out, so when he eats something really fucking spicy, he asks what's in it so he can try to make the recipe himself.

I think Ice doesn't find out how much Mav likes cooking until Ice gets injured and put on leave, and Mav shows up. Mav shows up, and without permission or preamble, just starts raiding Ice's pantry so that he can cook a meal. When Ice starts scrambling, stating how Mav doesn't need to do that, and he knows how much of a chore it is, and that he fucking hates cooking and he gets if Mav does too so he doesn't need to do this -- Mav only laughs.

"Got it. You hate cooking. I don't, so how about you sit down before you end up back in the infirmary?"

And Ice does sit, and watches Maverick with kind of a clinical fascination. Mav figures out where he keeps his utensils, pots, pans, spices fine. Whistles a tune (out of tune, whether Mav has no musical talent or enjoys being obnoxious Ice isn't sure) as he does so, and seems overall not bothered by the process. Honestly, Ice is surprised that Mav has the patience to cook, but then again, it's not like he isn't constantly moving.

"Do you start every day with burnt toast or something?" Maverick asks over his shoulder.

"What?"

"I've never heard you complain about something like this before," Mav clarifies. "Are you crap at it, or what?"

Ice shakes his head. "No. I can cook. Would even cook you a meal, Mitchell, if you wanted me to." Before Ice lets Maverick tease him about that, his face going a little red, because that is far more suggestive than he meant to state -- nothing else, he'll blame it on the damn painkillers -- Ice continues, "I just would rather do almost anything else."

All Maverick says is, "Good to know," and then he continues with his process.

When he finishes up his meal, he plates it for Ice and slides it across the counter. "Eat up."

It's chicken, beans, brown rice, a bunch of sauteed vegetables in some sort of sauce. Smells good. Ice takes a bite, and confirms, "tastes good. Thanks. I owe you one."

"Nah," he brushes off Ice's last remark. Then Mav grins, impish. "Though how would you survive without me?"

Some other time Ice might make some sarcastic little comment, but he doesn't now. Lets Maverick enjoy his little victory. "You're welcome to come by and cook anytime you want."

"Maybe I'll take you up on that." Mav's eyebrow twitches up. "Though then you'd really owe me."

"Eh. I'm sure I could think of some way to repay you."

Maverick laughs. "Yeah, Kazansky. I'm sure you could."

[plethorawrites]

Okay, first of all, I genuinely love your blog, your writing, everything, it's so great

Second, would you be willing to do a Jason todd x reader where it's basically a boxing au and Jason got injured, so reader is taking care of him and they end up sleeping together? It can be anything else you want, just thought this would be cute

Love you (platonically, you and your blog are just really amazing)

Boxer Jason would be AMAZING, I think. Especially if it's after he came back from the dead.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

He'd be angry, rightfully so, after climbing out of the Lazarus pit. Feeling shunned, it wouldn't surprise me at all if he needed an outlet for that rage and since Bruce's golden rule of never killing stuck in his head too deep to forget it, he had to find something less violent. Not by a lot, of course.

Boxing was good.

At first, at least. He'd go to a gym, get a decent amount of his anger and frustration out. Not enough though. He needed to hit something that wasn't moving.

So, despite not entirely trusting himself, he signed up for a few fights. He was good. Stupidly good. To the point the owner asked him if he'd want to get paid for it. Originally he'd been doing it just to blow off some steam, but this was Gotham, so of course there was something darker and more illegal nearby.

An underground boxing ring wasn't all that surprising to him, neither was the number of people who took bets.

Really, the only thing that surprised him was you. The owner's kid, who... really didn't seem to belong in a place so dirty or gritty. You were always dressed so much nicer than the creeps that were crowded around the ring, yelling and screaming. He'd watch you get hit on time and time again only shut down any advances or have your father do it for you.

He'd see you, sometimes, in the gym on your own at night when no one was around, just boxing for fun or to destress. Not the way he fought, which was typically to maim someone. He was good at that. Always had been. It took a lot for him to lose.

But watching you in the crowd, as some guy you clearly didn't want to be near tried to grab your ass, that caught his attention long enough to get pummeled. It wasn't the first fight he'd lost (even if it was rare) but it was the worst.

That's why you were sitting with him, in the empty, dim gym after everyone left, pressing a towel to his busted face. It burned as you wiped the blood from his brow, but at the same time you were so damn sweet about it he almost felt the cavities forming when you smiled.

He couldn't say he wasn't attracted to you, because he obviously was. It seemed most people were. But you were off limits according to your dad and since he paid Jason's check every fight.... he'd try to listen.

It wasn't easy though, and that little voice in his head telling him to back off grew weaker and weaker the longer he felt your soft hands on him, listening to your steady breathing as you gently wrapped bandages around his wrists.

"What happened?" You asked, slowly pulling at the gauze. "You're never caught off guard." Overpowered? Occasionally. But never distracted.

He didn't want to admit the truth, that he'd been so caught up in watching you that he forgot about the fact that someone was about to punch him. But you were impossible to lie to. "I just...saw some guy harassing you," he confessed quietly, resisting the urge to ask if you were alright from it.

"Oh." Your voice was equally quiet as you tucked the bandage in and picked up the towel again as his lip started to bleed once more from how hard it got hit. "So... I'm the reason you're bleeding."

He could tell you felt guilty, not only because he lost but because he was hurt and you were the cause of it. He shook his head as you pressed the rag firmly against the corner of his mouth. "No, no I just- I had a bad night. They happen."

He could see you thinking through his words, reluctantly nodding as you pulled the towel away and ran your thumb over the edge of his lip. "I'm sorry," you whispered, suddenly very aware of how his hand fell on your knee after you'd finished bandaging it. "I wish I could make it better."

You meant that, truly. You cared about him in more ways than one, even if you'd never told him that before.

His heart beat felt a bit faster as he felt you touching his lip and he hesitated, the voice in his head shouting at him to pull away, gather his stuff, and go home. But he couldn't help but lean in a bit closer.

"Maybe...maybe you could," he breathed, his breath warm on your lips which were closer to his than ever.

Your mouth fell open for a second, before it met his, kissing him gently out of fear that one of you would stop or that you might hurt him. When neither seemed to be the case, the towel fell from your grasp, and you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

His hand squeezed your thigh, the other finding your waist, digging his fingers into your skin as it moved back and forth trying to find the best grip possible.

Out of breath, you pulled back, resting your forehead against his. "My father is going to kill me," you muttered, fussing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

Despite your words, there was little regret behind them. In fact, none.

Jason knew that he was probably out of a job now, but if he was going to lose his source of income, it wouldn't be over one damn kiss. "That's not worth killing you over," he replied, his hand tugging at your shirt, seeking approval. "This could be."

You knew as well as he did that it was a bad idea, but you'd liked him since he first stepped foot in the gym, since you saw how passionate he was and watched his tired, lonely eyes every night he tended to his own injuries.

Bad idea or not, you wanted it. Wanted him.

You didn't resist when he pulled your shirt off, just reached back to hold him again as soon as it was off. With your arms around his neck, his large hands roamed your ribs and waist for a moment before pulling you off the bench and kissing you again as you walked backwards towards the ring.

"So unhygienic," you mumbled as he lifted you with ease until you were sitting on the edge of it, laying back as your head fell below the ropes. He lifted one, ducking under it as he always did.

"You're in an illegal boxing ring," he reminded you, his hands wrapping around your wrists as he pinned you down gently, his lips near your ear. "Nothing about this place is clean."

Least of all what you were doing.

But that didn't seem to matter nearly as much as the feeling of his lips on your jaw, peppering kisses along it as he held you down, his weight settled on you as his legs rested on either side of your hips.

"Guess not," you agreed, a breathy sigh falling from your lips and you closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling of his touch. Perhaps the only gentleman to ever exist in this place.

The place was dark, dirty, violent. So was he, in a lot of ways. But the boxing ring you always considered so grotesque seemed much more beautiful when you were in it with him.

[biscuitdolly]

୨ৎ absolute necessities .ᐟ

if you're trying to glow up, get healthier, etc, these are the very basics that you absolutely NEED to follow!

01, WATER .ᐟ

Staying hydrated is crucial for your health and wellbeing. While the recommended daily intake is 8 cups of water, you can gradually increase your consumption over a few weeks if that seems too overwhelming. Drinking enough water provides numerous benefits, from clearing skin and flushing out waste, to boosting exercise performance and supporting weight loss. Despite being the very essence that sustains life, water is often underappreciated.

02, FOOD .ᐟ

I used to skip breakfast, thinking it would help me lose weight. However, studies show that those who eat breakfast tend to lose more weight and keep it off longer. The truth is, food is incredibly important. It's best to regulate your eating habits by consuming at least 3 meals per day, even if they're only small portions. Some food is better than no food. If you want to go on a diet, that's fine! but make sure you research healthy dieting methods. At a minimum, eat one serving of fruits and vegetables daily, and try to increase that to five servings per day if possible. Proper nutrition is key for your overall health.

03, HOBBIES .ᐟ

i have this previous post regarding hobbies you could try! It's so important to find fun activities that you genuinely enjoy and look forward to doing. Hobbies add fun to your life and pose as a nice break from technology and the stress of work and school. They also greatly improve symptoms of depression and anxiety. You could do some physical activity, such as a sport you like, or something more calm and creative, like painting or writing.

04, SLEEP .ᐟ

a lot of people struggle to fall asleep at a decent time. Try getting ready for bed early. Personally, I tend to take off my make up and do my skincare immediately after i come home for school/work so i don't have to worry about it before bed.

Technology is probably your sleeping schedule's worst enemy, as the blue light from the screen keeps your brain awake, so try to pause screen-related activities at least an hour before bed. Also, try not to snack 2 - 4 hours before you go to sleep. This is because lying down makes it harder for your body to digest food, which can result in sleeplessness.

Forcing yourself to go to bed super early isn't helpful either. Like I've mentioned in my other points, take things slow and gradual!

05, SOCIALIZATION .ᐟ

Engaging in simple social interactions, such as conversing with family, seeing friends, or greeting people on the street, is incredibly important. Isolating yourself in your room all day accomplishes nothing.

There was a time when I dreaded spending time with friends, convinced I lacked the energy or mood. However, once I forced myself to make plans, I realized how much I genuinely enjoyed their company. Other people are what make life truly worthwhile. So why not reach out to a friend right now and invite them to hang out tomorrow?

06, ACTIVITY .ᐟ

you don't need an exercise routine if you don't want one, but simple physical activity is still a daily necessity! At least 30 minutes is recommended. Personally, i most enjoy plugging in my headphones and going on a walk around my neighbourhood for an hour or two.

07, SELF TALK .ᐟ

Arguably one of my most important points, quit the self-deprecating talk. You never realize how much it affects you until you quit it. Yes, you can absolutely get that assessment done. Yes, you are a likable and amazing person. Just keep affirming and reminding yourself that you are worthy, and you will attract so many good things. Trust me, it will help you so much in the long run.

[lyssakinzzz]

Pining.

Warnings: public sex, somewhat of established relationships(like they know each other), oral (f! receiving), dumbification, Grace being a MUNCHHH, Black reader!! Degradation, p in v, threesome.

Paring: Grace x Bo chow x Reader.

TYSM FOR BEING MY FIRST ASK ANONNN

You knew Bo and Grace had shared affection for you.

When you would go to the store Bo or Grace would knock off a few dollars in order to win your favor.

You just thought they had some fantasy about you, and it wasn't even too bad to. They were both very attractive, and it wouldn't be too bad if one thing led to another...

Anyways, tonight was going to be a good night. The twins were opening a juke joint down here, and you were gonna have fun and party till the sun came up, you thought as you walked in to the hot shed, people were preforming, couples were dancing, and the air smelt good. You smiled at cornbread as he let you in and you stood up and waited for Sammie to start singing.

Everyone in the delta knew the boy was good. So, it wasn't too shocking when you heard he was preforming here, he flashed you a smile and you returned it as you sat down and got a drink. Then you smelt the deep floral and sugary perfume of Grace right behind you. You turn to be met with her gorgeous face. She was in a green dress and sat down next to you.

"Hey, girl!" You greet her smiling.

"Hey!" She smiled and gave you a hug and sneakily (or atleast she thought) gave you a good inhale and let out a little moan.

"What brings you here. I reckon you'd be home with Bo and Lisa!" You said taking a sip of your beverage.

"No, Bo's here gamblin' as always an Lisa should be home by now." she smiled her voice soft and a bit sensual, as always. She truly lived up to her name always poised with Grace. You nodded and fanned yourself down. It was always hot in the joints and especially in the south. You guys kept a conversation going for a bit, filled with giggles and acute flirting. You smirked "Well I oughta run to the ladies room!" You smiled. "Oof me too this heats spolin my makeup!" Grace smiled as you two went together as we passed the gambling room we saw Bo flash us a smile and his eyes linger on me a bit.

We powder our faces and talk, her hands strangely linger on my lower back. You couldn't really take it anymore so you said

"Now, Grace you know you married and a mama." You scolded her a bit, but you secretly wanted her to do anything and everything to you.

"I know...but Bo will never know!..." she said giving you pleading eyes while fixing your dress collar. " 'ts not like a gentleman like him to walk in the ladies room..." she muttered as she kissed your neck. You hummed in pleasure before eventually giving into her every demand. You whine as you two end up kissing, and grinding on each other like cats in heat. "Oof..." she exhaled as she kept moving, she fondled with your boobs just a bit and smiled at your little mewls. Then, you hear a loud knock on the door. "Gracie?! Come on, you and y/n decent in there?" Bo, yelled you immediately tried to get up and fix yourself, but Grace with surprising strength held you down. "Mmm...let him walk in..." she muttered while kissing your nips like it was the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Bo walked in to see you and Grace humping and whining like bunnies in heat, and he let out a little gasp, while smirking a bit. This couple was freaky.

"Mmm..look at bo when you moan, baby..." she whispered as she kissed down your body and sucking on some spots, greedily. You mindlessly obeyed her and tried keeping eye contact with the smirking male. He stooped down next to y'all and started kissing your neck, you threw your head back and whined as you mindlessly move you hips, begging for anyone to pay attention to your lower half. Grace obviously notices this and starts to pull down your panties.

"Oh...she's wet, aren't ya, angel?" She smirked and started to kiss around your labia. You whimper and Bo chuckles, "Ooo, you're right baby, she's soaked, completely!" Bo smirked as he played with your boobs. Grace finally started lapping at you and you slowly lower your body in pleasure. "G-grace.." was the only word coming out your mouth. Like you were a young toddler who just learned a new word.

"Mmm..grace look she went all stupid..." Bo mocked you, but all you could do was moan. You tried to wiggle out of Graces grasp but she pulled you back in and lapped at your folds. You whine and huff as you creamed on her tongue.

She smirked and swallowed it. "Mmm..now that's delicious and devine, sweetheart. What's that diet of yours, hm?." She teased as Bo positioned himself inside you without you even knowing until he sank in.

"Gah!" You said as you gripped on to Grace as he sat there for a while not moving and you were still going crazy squirming. "Sh...shh baby it's alright..." she said hiding a little smile comforting you, after that he really just kept thrusting and thrusting. He was grunting as he degraded you.

"Mmmm...this slutty pussy feels so good around me...almost like you were made for me" he whispered. "I wonder what reputation you'll have in town if anyone walks in to see you fucking a married couple, at the same Damn time..." He grunted as he kept thrusting. "Oh they're would be so much rumors about you...honestly Grace should just show everyone about how much of a slut you are for us. How fucking stupid you are for my cock too, hm?" He said as he grabbed you r face and covered your mouth. "Well aren't you gonna say something you dumb, greedy bitch?" He felt his balls drawing up, he was gonna cum, real soon. "Oh this pussy is so gah tight, ain't it grace?" He grunted as he finally whimpered and Came inside you. "Imagine, being such a slut a married man's cums in ya..." He mocked you in your disheveled state. Grace smiled like Cheshire cat and licked you up clean.

This was gonna be a long night...