#I was so close to adding a candle but then I was like this is 10000% gonna look like a dinner date and idk if I can handle that

[faebled-stories]

The Echo of Three

Kinkvember Day 22: Cuckolding (Cuckqueen)

Kiss of Life Haneul and Belle x Male reader

AN: A bit later than usual, sorry about that 😅. It’s been a rough day, but I still wanted to make sure I got this out to you all. Thanks for your patience and understanding!

Haneul had always had a knack for knowing you better than you knew yourself. She noticed every little thing, from how you liked your coffee—three sugars, a splash of cream—to the way you hummed certain songs under your breath, not even realizing you were doing it. She’d pick up on the subtle shifts in your mood, the tells you didn’t even know you had. But one thing she had picked up on early in your relationship was your admiration for Belle.

Belle. The world-famous soloist with the hauntingly beautiful voice and the kind of stage presence that seemed to demand the world’s attention. Her performances felt intimate despite their grandeur, as though every note was meant for you, even when heard through a screen. You’d always been open about your love for her music, gushing over new albums, replaying live performances late into the night, and casually mentioning how much you’d love to see her in concert someday. It wasn’t just the music; it was her. Something about Belle’s presence—her confidence, her poise, the way she commanded a room with effortless grace—captivated you in a way Haneul couldn’t miss.

At first, Haneul had rolled her eyes. It was cute, she supposed—the way your face lit up when any of Belle’s songs came on, how you’d hum along with an almost reverent smile. But that cuteness came with a faint sting. She couldn’t help feeling a little twinge of jealousy every time Belle’s name slipped into conversation. Belle was glamorous, untouchable, someone who could capture the attention of millions with a single note. How could she not feel overshadowed by that?

But as time went on, those feelings softened. Haneul began to see your admiration for what it was: a harmless celebrity crush, a fantasy so far removed from reality that it didn’t threaten the deep, personal connection you shared. And in truth, the way you talked about Belle was endearing—your unfiltered enthusiasm for her talent, the way your excitement bubbled over whenever she released something new. It made Haneul love you even more, seeing this side of you that was so earnest and unapologetically passionate.

Even when you jokingly added Belle to your “hall pass” list, Haneul had laughed, calling you ridiculous. “Good luck with that,” she’d teased, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all. But the idea lingered in her mind, a tiny spark of curiosity that never quite faded. It wasn’t jealousy anymore—it was something else. A mix of playful indulgence and genuine understanding. She wasn’t blind, after all. Even she could see the allure of someone like Belle.

So, when your birthday came around, Haneul knew exactly what to do. She wanted to give you something unforgettable, something that captured not only how much she loved you but how well she knew you.

-----

The faint flicker of candles cast a warm glow across the dimly lit room, the flames dancing in tandem with the soft scent of vanilla cake that filled the air. It mingled with the faint, familiar trace of Haneul’s floral perfume—something light, with a hint of jasmine—that always made you feel at home. Haneul stood across the table, her dark hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders, her voice lilting gently as she sang “Happy Birthday.” Her tone was playful, teasing on some notes, but there was a warmth to it that made your chest ache in the best way. She wasn’t a professional singer, but to you, her voice was still amazing—especially when it was paired with the way her lips curved into a smile between verses. It made every note feel like it was meant just for you.

“Make a wish,” she said softly, her dark eyes sparkling as the candlelight danced across her face.

You closed your eyes, letting the moment settle over you. The warmth of the candles radiated faintly against your skin, the flickering light behind your eyelids matching the comforting steadiness of Haneul’s presence. The soft hum of her voice still lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a blanket. You took a deep breath, the scent of the cake mingling with the faint jasmine of her perfume, and made your wish: to spend forever with her, your loving girlfriend.

When you opened your eyes, the sight of her was enough to make your heart swell. Haneul, the woman who had brought so much light into your life, who knew you better than anyone else, stood there smiling at you, her expression warm and full of love. The soft flicker of the candles seemed to frame her in golden light, her dark eyes gleaming with the kind of joy that made everything around her feel secondary.

When you exhaled, the candles flickered and went out, the flames vanishing with a quiet whoosh. A thin wisp of smoke curled lazily upward, the faint scent of burned wax mixing with the sweetness of the cake. For a moment, the room held its breath, as though even the air itself was savoring the moment. Then Haneul clapped her hands together, the sound sharp and cheerful as she broke the stillness with a bright, playful grin.

“Okay, so…” she said, dragging out the words with a teasing lilt. “Are you going to tell me what you wished for, or do I have to guess?”

“You know I can’t tell you,” you replied, leaning across the table to steal a quick kiss. Her lips were soft and warm, carrying the faint, sugary sweetness of the frosting. “It won’t come true if I do.”

“Fine, keep your secrets,” she said with a dramatic sigh, though the playful twinkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. She picked up the cake knife, her movements deliberate and precise as she slid the blade into the frosting. The soft scrape of metal against ceramic filled the room, a small sound amplified by the quiet intimacy of the moment. She nudged a slice onto your plate, sliding it toward you with a smirk. “Here. Try not to inhale it all at once.”

The cake was perfect—soft, moist, with just the right amount of sweetness. Each bite seemed to melt on your tongue, leaving a lingering vanilla warmth. You couldn’t help but glance at her as she served herself a slice, the faint hum of her voice as she worked making your chest ache with quiet gratitude. The flicker of the candles reflected in her dark eyes, adding an almost magical quality to the moment. Everything about her—the curve of her lips, the casual confidence of her movements, the way her presence filled the room—made you feel impossibly lucky.

Haneul had always known exactly how to make you feel loved. But tonight felt different. There was something almost electric in the air, a subtle charge that made the moment feel bigger than it seemed. It wasn’t just the cake or her attention to detail—it was something unspoken, something you couldn’t quite put into words. It felt like anticipation.

As the last crumbs of cake disappeared from your plate, Haneul leaned back in her chair, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder in soft waves. The glow of the candles illuminated her profile, catching the mischievous glint in her eyes as she tilted her head, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Alright,” she said, her tone teasing. “Time for phase two.”

“Phase two?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“Presents, obviously,” she replied, standing and walking over to the small table near the couch. She moved with an unhurried grace, her hips swaying slightly as she bent down to pick up a small stack of neatly wrapped gifts. Each package was unique—some wrapped in bright, playful patterns, others in muted, elegant tones—all perfectly folded with crisp corners and tied with coordinating ribbons. She carried them over with a sense of ceremony, setting them down in front of you with a flourish.

“Wait, all of these are for me?” you asked, eyeing the stack with mock suspicion. “What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Well, you did turn another year older,” she teased, sliding the first box toward you with a playful smirk. “And I guess you’ve been tolerable enough this year.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you picked up the first package. It was small and rectangular, wrapped in bright green paper that shimmered faintly under the soft light. You tore it open carefully, your fingers brushing against the smooth paper as you revealed a leather-bound journal with gilded edges. The leather was soft to the touch, its scent of fresh material mingling with the lingering sweetness of the cake. As you opened it, the faint smell of clean, unused paper reached you, a quiet promise of possibility. On the first page, written in her familiar handwriting, was a note: For all the dreams we haven’t dreamed yet.

You looked up at her, the weight of the gesture settling over you like a warm blanket. “This is beautiful, Haneul. Thank you.”

She shrugged, though the faint flush on her cheeks betrayed her pride. “I just thought… you’re always talking about ideas, so now you’ll have somewhere to put them.”

The next gift was smaller, wrapped in silver paper that gleamed in the candlelight. Inside, you found a sleek pair of wireless earbuds. The polished surface caught the light as you held them up, and you couldn’t help but grin. “I figured these might come in handy,” she said, leaning her chin on her hand with a mischievous look. “You know, for drowning me out when I nag you.”

You laughed, holding them up to inspect them. “Or for listening to music on those walks you’re always making me take.”

“Exactly,” she replied, her tone light but affectionate.

The final small package was the most understated of the three, wrapped in soft cream-colored paper tied with a delicate ribbon. Inside, nestled in a velvet box, was a simple chain bracelet. It gleamed subtly under the flickering light, its design understated but elegant—exactly your style. She reached out, her fingers brushing against your wrist as she leaned forward to fasten it. Her touch was warm, her focus intent as she secured the clasp with care.

“For luck,” she murmured, her voice softer now. She sat back, her eyes studying your face as you admired it. “It’s simple, but I thought it’d suit you.”

“It’s perfect,” you said, your voice quiet as you looked up at her. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Haneul. I don’t even know what to say.”

Her smile widened, a mix of pride and playfulness lighting her face as she leaned back in her chair. “Don’t worry,” she said breezily, waving a hand. “I’m not done yet.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Not done?”

She laughed, the sound light and teasing, as she stood and walked back toward the couch. This time, she returned with a sleek white envelope in her hand. The paper was pristine, the edges sharp, as though it had been carefully guarded. The faint rustle of the envelope in her hands seemed amplified in the quiet room, building the anticipation swirling in your chest. She set it down in front of you with a flourish, her grin widening in a way that made your heart race.

“This,” she said, tapping the envelope with her finger, “is the real present.”

Your heart skipped as you reached for it, your fingers trembling slightly. The paper felt smooth and crisp under your fingertips, the slight weight of the contents inside making your pulse quicken. You broke the seal, the faint sound of tearing paper almost echoing in the stillness, and pulled out the contents. Two glossy concert tickets gleamed in your hands, the bold, stylized name Belle printed across them in her signature font. The logo glittered faintly in the light, catching your eye like it had been designed just for this moment. Beneath the tickets was a smaller slip of paper, gilded with gold. The words BACKSTAGE ACCESS were embossed in elegant, raised lettering.

For a moment, the words didn’t register. You stared at the tickets, your mind slowly piecing together what they meant. It was like trying to solve a puzzle while your heart pounded in your chest, the pieces clicking into place one by one. “No way,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat. “Is this…? Did you…?”

Haneul grinned, her dark eyes dancing as she leaned her chin on her hand. “You’re going to see her live. Front row seats. And after the concert, you get to meet her.”

You blinked, the reality of her words crashing over you like a wave. The world around you seemed to tilt, and for a second, all you could do was stare at the tickets in your hands, the weight of them feeling almost surreal. “Haneul, I—this is—” Your voice faltered as your emotions welled up, a knot forming in your throat. “I don’t even know how to thank you.”

“Well,” she teased, standing and walking over to your side, her tone as casual as if she’d just handed you socks. “You could start by not crying.”

“I’m not crying,” you muttered, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. Your vision blurred slightly, and you quickly set the tickets down before pulling her into a tight hug. Her body was warm and solid against yours, grounding you as you buried your face in her hair. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Seriously. This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”

She laughed softly, her arms wrapping around you with a reassuring squeeze. “You’re welcome,” she murmured, her voice soft against your ear. “I figured it was about time you got to see your celebrity crush in person.”

You groaned, pulling back just enough to look at her, though the smile on your face betrayed your exasperation. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” she replied, her grin widening, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “Besides, I want to see if she lives up to the hype.”

The two of you laughed together, the weight of the moment giving way to an electric sense of anticipation. The tickets sat on the table, gleaming in the candlelight, a tangible reminder of what awaited you tomorrow. Finally, you’d see Belle live—an experience you’d dreamed about for years. And thanks to Haneul, it was going to be even more unforgettable than you could have imagined.

-----

The concert is electric, the kind of performance that leaves the air humming with energy long after the final note fades. Belle’s stage presence is commanding, magnetic, as though the entire venue bends to her will. Her voice carries through the space like a force of nature—raw, powerful, yet impossibly intimate. Each note seems to wrap around you, as though meant for you alone. The stage lights flare and dim with every shift in tempo, casting her in a glow that feels almost ethereal. You’re completely enraptured, caught in the pull of her undeniable charisma.

But what surprises you most isn’t your own reaction—it’s Haneul’s. She’s usually composed, steady, the picture of quiet confidence. Yet tonight, there’s something different in her demeanor. She watches Belle with an intensity you rarely see, her dark eyes following the singer’s every movement. There’s a tinge of admiration in her expression, subtle but unmistakable, and it catches you off guard. You notice the way her lips part slightly during a particularly sultry note, the faint rise and fall of her chest as she leans forward in her seat, as though caught in the same spell that has ensnared you.

By the time the concert ends and you head backstage, a shared excitement buzzes between you. It’s an unspoken thing, lingering in the quickened pace of your steps, the faint blush on your cheeks when Haneul glances at you with a knowing smile. The backstage area feels quieter than you expected, the air still charged with the energy of the performance. The faint roar of the departing crowd filters through the walls, a distant echo of the electricity that filled the arena moments ago. Overhead lights cast long shadows across the room, and the faint scent of sweat and faintly floral perfume lingers in the air like a reminder of Belle’s presence.

And then there she is.

Belle is as radiant up close as she was on stage, her charisma somehow even more potent in the intimate glow of the backstage lounge. Her dark hair is pulled into a loose, slightly tousled style, a few strands falling artfully across her face. The soft sheen of sweat on her skin catches the light, making her look both human and larger than life, her beauty almost surreal. She’s dressed casually now, in a loose-fitting top that clings in just the right places and snug jeans that highlight her long legs, but she wears them with the kind of effortless grace that makes them feel like a designer ensemble.

Her laughter fills the room like music, light and genuine, a perfect counterpoint to the quiet hum of post-performance energy still lingering in the air. She moves with an easy elegance, her gestures fluid as she pours drinks and chats with her team. But as you step into her orbit, her attention shifts.

Her gaze lands squarely on you, and suddenly, it feels like the room has shrunk. Her eyes are sharp, focused, as though she’s appraising you in a way that makes your chest tighten. She tilts her head slightly, her smile widening into something teasing yet calculated. "So," she begins, her voice carrying that same sultry edge you’d heard on stage, "you’re the big fan, huh?"

The words hit you like a spotlight, and your heart stutters in your chest. Her attention is magnetic, pinning you in place as your mind scrambles for a coherent response. "Uh…" You struggle to form words, your throat inexplicably dry. "Y-yeah," you manage after a beat, your face flushing under her scrutiny. "You were… incredible."

Belle’s laughter spills from her lips, soft and teasing, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she steps just a little closer. "Incredible?" she repeats, her tone lilting as though savoring the word. "I’ll take that." She lets the pause linger, her gaze dipping briefly before meeting yours again, sharper this time, like she’s testing your limits. "Though you look like you weren’t expecting me to be that good."

Her hand brushes your arm lightly, a fleeting touch that somehow feels deliberate, calculated to send a jolt of nervous energy through you. Her fingers are warm against your skin, leaving a faint trace of heat that lingers even after she pulls back. "Relax," she says, her voice playful but carrying an undertone that’s far more suggestive. "I don’t bite." She lets her smile linger for a beat before adding with a low laugh, "Not unless I’m invited."

The air between you shifts, growing thicker, charged. Her proximity makes it hard to focus on anything else, her perfume—soft with a faint musky undertone—wrapping around you like a net. Your hands twitch slightly at your sides, your mind racing with a mix of awe and nervousness. You glance toward Haneul, desperate for some kind of grounding, but what you find isn’t exactly what you were hoping for.

Haneul is sitting nearby, watching the exchange with a quiet smile that gives away nothing. There’s a glimmer of amusement in her expression, but beneath that, something else—something curious, almost approving. When she notices your panicked glance, her grin deepens, and she tilts her head slightly, as if silently telling you to keep going.

You’re about to stammer out another awkward attempt at conversation when Haneul decides to step in. "He’s more than a fan," she teases, her voice light but purposeful as she rises from her seat. She walks up beside you, slipping an arm around your waist in a way that feels both comforting and mischievous. "You should’ve seen him watching you tonight," she continues, her tone dripping with playful exaggeration. "I thought he was going to pass out at one point."

"Haneul!" you hiss, your cheeks burning with fresh embarrassment as you glance at her, your wide eyes begging her to stop.

Belle chuckles, clearly entertained by the dynamic. "Oh, really?" she asks, her smile widening as her gaze flicks back to you. "Well, I guess I made an impression."

"He couldn’t stop talking about you for weeks after I got these tickets," Haneul adds, clearly enjoying herself now. She looks up at you with a grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "He even practiced what he’d say if he ever got the chance to meet you. Something about wanting to thank you for inspiring him?"

Your hands fly up in protest. "I did not!" you protest, your voice cracking slightly, but your flushed cheeks betray you. You glance at Belle, who’s watching the exchange with open amusement, her eyes alight with curiosity.

"Don’t worry," Haneul says, patting your chest as though to reassure you. "I think it’s cute." She looks back at Belle, her grin softening slightly. "He’s been looking forward to this for a long time."

Belle’s expression shifts slightly, her teasing smirk taking on a hint of warmth as she studies you. "You’ve got a good one," she says to Haneul, nodding toward you. There’s a flicker of something sly in her expression as she adds, "If he weren’t taken, I’d probably have jumped on him by now."

Her words land with a weight that seems to linger in the air, bold and unapologetic, resonating like the echo of a drumbeat. Your blush deepens, creeping to the tips of your ears as your pulse quickens under the intensity of her gaze. You try to respond—to say something clever, to deflect—but the words tangle in your throat, refusing to form. The tension in the room presses against you, thick and tangible, like a storm waiting to break.

Haneul’s calm voice cuts through the charged air, steady and deliberate.

"Is that so?" she says, her tone light but deliberate. Her head tilts slightly, her gaze steady as she looks at Belle. There’s a confidence in her voice that you don’t expect, a calmness that feels deliberate. "What’s stopping you?"

Belle’s eyebrows shoot up, her usual confidence flickering as surprise flashes across her face. "Wait, are you serious?" she asks, her voice a mix of laughter and disbelief. Her eyes dart between you and Haneul, searching for any sign of a joke.

Haneul pauses, the weight of her words settling over her as Belle’s question lingers in the air. Her calm exterior belies the storm of thoughts rushing through her mind. The idea—watching you with Belle, this untouchable, magnetic performer she’d admired from afar—felt like it should spark jealousy, like it should tighten in her chest in that all-too-familiar way. And there was a flicker of it, faint and fleeting, but what surprised her more was everything else.

Excitement. Thrill. A low, unexpected hum of arousal that made her breath catch for just a second. It struck her as strange, almost absurd, but she couldn’t deny the way her pulse quickened at the thought. She could picture it so vividly—your hands on Belle, the way you’d look at her with that same hungry intensity that sometimes set her own body aflame. It made her stomach twist in a way that was as exhilarating as it was unsettling.

Her gaze flicks to you, catching the uncertainty in your expression, the way your shoulders are just slightly tense as though you’re waiting for her to pull back. But she doesn’t. Instead, she shrugs, her lips curling into a small, almost teasing smile. Her voice is steady when she speaks, but there’s a softness beneath it, a quiet acceptance of the strange mix of emotions surging through her. "I mean, I’ve seen how you’ve been looking at him." Her gaze softens slightly, her eyes flickering to you as though grounding herself. "And honestly…" She pauses, her voice lowering just enough to draw Belle’s full attention. "The idea isn’t as crazy as you might think."

Her words send a rush of heat through you—confusion, excitement, and something else that twists low in your stomach. You glance between Haneul and Belle, unsure of what to say, unsure if you should say anything at all. The silence that follows feels alive, buzzing with possibility.

Belle leans back slightly, her lips parting as she processes Haneul’s words. She looks between you and Haneul, a slow, mischievous smile spreading across her face. "Well," she murmurs, stepping closer to you, "if the lady insists… who am I to say no?"

Haneul lets out a soft laugh, her cheeks faintly flushed. Despite her calm exterior, you can see it now—the rush of excitement sparking behind her eyes, the slight rise and fall of her chest as though she’s steadying herself. She glances at you again, her gaze warm but charged, and you realize this isn’t just about Belle. It’s about you. About the thrill of watching something unfold that neither of you had planned but both of you are suddenly open to.

Her hands brush against yours, her touch light yet deliberate, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. She leans in closer, her lips hovering near yours. "Are you okay with this?" she whispers, her voice low and inviting, her breath warm against your skin.

Your throat feels tight, and for a moment, you can’t find your voice. You glance at Haneul, who is sitting on the couch, her gaze steady and filled with warmth. She nods encouragingly, her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly parted. Her reassurance steadies you, and you turn back to Belle, nodding softly.

With your consent, Belle closes the distance between you. Her lips meet yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, her movements confident and commanding. It’s unlike anything you’ve experienced before, and it leaves you breathless. Her hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer as she deepens the kiss, her tongue teasing yours in a way that makes your knees feel weak.

As the moment stretches, Belle pulls back slightly, her breath mingling with yours. "Why don’t we make this a little more private?" she murmurs, her tone sultry yet casual, as though it’s the most natural suggestion in the world.

Haneul rises from the couch, her movements slow but deliberate, her gaze locked onto yours. There’s a shared understanding between the three of you now, an unspoken agreement as Belle gestures toward a door in the back corner of the room. Her hand slides into yours as she leads you both toward it, her touch firm and steady, her confidence pulling you forward.

The room you enter is dimly lit, with a plush couch in the center and soft, ambient lighting casting warm shadows across the walls. The door clicks shut behind you, sealing the three of you in a space that feels intimate, almost sacred. Belle turns to face you both, her smirk softening into something more inviting as she steps closer, her movements fluid and deliberate.

"Now," she says, her voice dropping lower, her gaze flicking between you and Haneul, "where were we?"

The weight of the room’s privacy settles over you, amplifying every glance, every touch, every unspoken word. Haneul steps closer, her hand finding yours as her other rests lightly on your arm. She glances at Belle, her cheeks still flushed, her expression open and eager. The anticipation in the room is electric, the boundaries between the three of you dissolving as the night takes its next step.

You can’t help but glance at Haneul again, seeking her reassurance even as Belle consumes your focus. Haneul’s eyes meet yours, her expression calm but undeniably aroused. She nods again, her lips curling into a small smile, as if to remind you that she’s there, fully supportive, fully in control.

Belle pulls back slightly, her lips brushing against your jaw as she murmurs, "Relax. You’re doing fine." Her hands begin to explore, slipping beneath your shirt, her touch warm and deliberate. One by one, pieces of clothing fall away—yours and hers—until you’re left stunned, standing before her.

Your breath catches as your gaze roams over Belle’s bare skin. She’s everything you’ve admired for so long: radiant, confident, and breathtakingly real. For years, she’s been a distant fantasy, a figure on a screen or in your headphones, and now she’s here, naked before you. You’re too stunned to move, your eyes wide, your body frozen in awe.

Belle notices your reaction and smiles, her confidence unwavering as her eyes sweep over you. Her gaze flickers downward briefly, pausing, and a subtle shift in her expression betrays her thoughts—her smile widening slightly, her brows lifting just enough to suggest admiration. When her gaze returns to your face, there’s a flicker of something playful and knowing in her eyes, the kind of look that makes your chest tighten.

She glances toward Haneul, who is still seated on the couch, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and arousal. Belle tilts her head slightly, giving Haneul a knowing glance—a silent, almost conspiratorial expression that says without words: You’re a lucky girl.

Belle takes your hand and guides you to the couch, her touch firm yet unhurried, every movement exuding confidence. She nudges you to sit, her eyes locked on yours with a smirk that sends a thrill through you. Her graceful form lowers between your legs, her movements deliberate as she kneels. "Let’s see how much you can handle," she murmurs, her voice low and teasing, every word dripping with intent.

Your breath catches sharply as her hand wraps around your length, her touch warm and deliberate. Her fingers glide over you with practiced precision, each motion sending ripples of sensation up your spine. The faint trace of her perfume—subtle and musky—lingers in the air, mingling with the heat of the moment. A soft gasp escapes your lips, unbidden, as her grip tightens just slightly, perfectly calibrated to draw the first hint of tension from deep within you. Belle doesn’t rush; her eyes flick upward, locking with yours, and for a moment, it’s as if the world narrows to just the two of you. Her gaze is intent, assessing, drinking in every shift in your expression. The faintest smile tugs at the corners of her lips, a quiet show of confidence, before she leans forward, parting them to envelop you in her warm, wet mouth.

The sensation is immediate and overwhelming, a rush of heat and pressure that leaves you breathless. Her tongue moves with deliberate skill, teasing and exploring as it swirls along your length. The contrast between the firm seal of her lips and the soft, wet heat of her tongue is electrifying, sending shivers coursing through your body. Your fingers instinctively grip the edge of the couch as you try to steady yourself against the onslaught of sensation. Each flick of her tongue against the sensitive underside of your tip feels impossibly precise, perfectly tuned to unravel you. Her movements are controlled, calculated, and maddeningly slow, as though she’s savoring every moment—and daring you to do the same.

From the corner of your eye, you catch Haneul shifting on the couch. At first, her gaze is fixed on Belle, her dark eyes following the rhythm of her movements with a mix of fascination and intrigue. Her chest rises and falls steadily, though her breath catches ever so slightly when Belle’s head dips lower, taking you deeper. The faint flush on her cheeks deepens as she watches, her lips parting subtly as if to echo your own shaky breaths. But soon, her attention drifts upward—to you.

Haneul’s eyes widen slightly as they meet your face, and her breath hitches as she takes in the rawness of your expression. Your head tilted back, your jaw slack, every part of you consumed by the sensations Belle is drawing from you. There’s a hunger in your gaze, an unguarded intensity she’s rarely seen, and it sends a wave of heat coursing through her. Her thighs press tightly together, her own arousal building as she drinks in every detail: the faint sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, the tension in your arms as you grip the couch for stability, the way your lips part with soft, uneven breaths. It’s as if she’s seeing a side of you she never has before, and the sight ignites something deep and primal within her.

Belle’s pace shifts, the languid rhythm giving way to something more insistent. Her lips slide along your length with increasing fervor, her tongue teasing you mercilessly. The slick sounds of her movements fill the room, mingling with the soft gasps escaping your lips. Her hand joins the effort, stroking you in perfect sync with her mouth, her touch firm yet tantalizingly smooth. Each stroke feels like a deliberate test, designed to push you closer to the edge. Your breathing grows ragged, shallow inhales interspersed with low groans that you can’t suppress.

You glance down at Belle, and the sight alone nearly undoes you. Her dark eyes are locked onto yours, gleaming with satisfaction and something deeper—possessive, teasing, utterly confident. Even as she takes you deeper, her cheeks hollowing with effort, her lips curl into a subtle smirk, the look of someone who knows exactly what she’s doing. Her tongue flicks against the most sensitive spots with maddening precision, each motion sending jolts of electricity racing through your core.

Behind her, Haneul’s gaze is transfixed. Her breathing quickens, her chest rising and falling with visible urgency as she watches you unravel. One hand rests against her thigh, trembling slightly, while the other lingers near her folds, her fingers twitching as though tempted to join the intensity surrounding her. Her lips part slightly, soft sounds escaping her as her arousal mirrors your own, her body responding to the raw display of pleasure before her.

Belle’s rhythm intensifies, her mouth and hand working together in perfect tandem. The wet heat of her lips contrasts with the firm, deliberate strokes of her hand, the combination almost unbearable. Your fingers dig into the couch, your body tense and coiled like a spring as the fire in your stomach builds. A deep groan escapes you, raw and unrestrained, echoing in the room as Belle’s relentless pace pushes you closer to the brink.

Haneul’s eyes remain locked on you, her own breathing quickening as she watches the moment unfold. The sight of you trembling, completely lost in the force of your climax, sends a jolt of heat straight through her. She feels her thighs press together involuntarily, a rush of slick arousal pooling between her legs as her own body responds to the rawness of the scene. Her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, her fingers curling against her thighs as she watches, captivated and overwhelmed by how unrestrained you’ve become.

Belle pulls back slightly just as you reach your peak, her hand stroking you with firm, deliberate movements. Your release comes in hot, thick waves, spilling across her lips and cheeks with startling intensity. Belle tilts her head slightly, her mouth parting as she lets the remnants land on her tongue, the streaks of your climax glistening against her skin. She doesn’t flinch or hesitate, her expression one of pure satisfaction. A smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth as she slowly drags her tongue along her lips, savoring every drop.

Haneul lets out a soft, almost imperceptible gasp, her body reacting before her mind can fully catch up. Her thighs shift, a faint ache blooming between them as she feels a flush spread across her chest. The sight of you—completely undone, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath—is impossibly arousing. And Belle, kneeling there with your release dripping down her face, wearing it with an unapologetic confidence that makes her look even more untouchable—it’s almost too much.

Belle meets your gaze, her smirk deepening as she licks one final drop from her lower lip. "Not bad," she murmurs, her voice low and rich with satisfaction. Her fingers trail down your thigh briefly, a playful reminder of the control she wielded just moments ago.

Haneul’s breath hitches as her eyes dart between you and Belle, her own arousal impossible to ignore now. The heat, the tension, the sheer audacity of the moment—it all swirls together, leaving her both awestruck and deeply, undeniably turned on.

Belle leans back slightly, her gaze flickering toward Haneul, her lips curling into a wicked grin. "I think he enjoyed that," she says, her voice smooth, teasing, and dripping with satisfaction. Her eyes flick briefly to you, then back to Haneul, as though gauging her reaction. Haneul doesn’t respond immediately, her breath shallow, caught up in the rush of her own thoughts. Her heart races as the moment lingers, a strange thrill mingling with the heat coursing through her body.

Belle rises with fluid grace, moving to the couch. Every step is deliberate, each motion exuding a confidence that seems to fill the room. She sits on the side, reclining back against the armrest, her legs spreading slowly, confidently, as she positions herself. Her bare skin glows faintly under the dim light, every curve and line of her body sculpted as though by an artist’s hand. Her poise is magnetic, her gaze unwavering as she locks eyes with you.

You stand there for a moment, frozen. Your breath catches as the surreal nature of the scene washes over you in waves. Belle, the woman you’d admired for so long, was waiting for you, her body open and inviting, her smirk daring you to act.

Noticing your hesitation, Belle’s smirk softens slightly, something warmer flashing in her expression. "Come here," she murmurs, her voice low and velvety, carrying an unspoken command that sends a shiver down your spine. The authority in her tone leaves no room for doubt, yet there’s a tenderness beneath it, an acknowledgment of your hesitation.

You move toward her, your legs feeling heavy as your heart pounds in your chest. Kneeling between her legs, you look up, meeting her gaze as her dark eyes bore into yours. She’s utterly in control, even as she spreads herself before you, her confidence radiating in every deliberate movement. For a moment, you almost blank out, staring at her with wide eyes, overwhelmed by the reality of it all. Belle, this untouchable goddess of a performer, was here, her legs open, waiting for you. The thought leaves you dizzy, your breaths shallow as you try to ground yourself.

You lean in slowly, your breath brushing against her skin as the faint, intoxicating scent of her arousal fills your senses. It sharpens the edge of your nerves, each detail of her more vivid than the last: the glisten of her skin, the subtle quiver of her thighs, the soft rise and fall of her chest. You hover there, so close and yet frozen, as though one wrong move might shatter the spell. The surreal nature of the moment presses down on you, leaving you suspended in sensory overload.

Belle notices immediately. Without hesitation, her hand shoots out, her fingers tangling in your hair with a firm, possessive grip. She pulls your head forward with deliberate force, pressing your lips firmly against her folds. The suddenness of the gesture snaps you out of your trance, the taste and warmth of her flooding your senses as she holds you there.

Her hand lingers, her fingers tightening slightly as if to make sure you’re fully engaged before releasing you. The soft vibration of her moan travels through her body, pulling something primal from deep within you. Instinct takes over, and your lips begin to move against her, brushing tentatively at first. Your movements are slow and deliberate, each stroke of your tongue light and exploratory, as though savoring the taste of something rare and exquisite.

Belle’s moan deepens, her voice low and unrestrained, a sound so intimate and raw it sends a jolt through you. Your member twitches at the sound, your arousal building with each note she releases. Encouraged, you grow bolder, each movement of your tongue more confident, more deliberate. You start slow, savoring every inch of her, your strokes measured and intentional as if this were a feast meant to be lingered over. The warmth of her, the way she reacts to each flick and swirl of your tongue, is utterly intoxicating.

Belle’s hands grip the armrest behind her as her head tilts back. Her breathing grows heavier, her chest rising and falling in time with your movements. The soft, melodic sounds she makes pull you deeper into the moment, every moan spurring you to explore more, to find new ways to make her lose herself.

Her thighs tremble faintly under your touch, and you steady her, your hands moving to her hips to keep her in place. Her soft gasps grow louder, her voice dipping into raw, unguarded cries of pleasure. You press closer, your confidence mounting as you lose yourself in the rhythm of her body, every sound she makes driving you further.

Belle’s back arches slightly, her breathing quickening as your tongue swirls around her sensitive nub before dipping lower to tease her entrance. The way she reacts—her hips shifting toward you, the way her fingers grip tighter against the couch—sends a fresh wave of desire surging through you. You keep going, pulling every ounce of pleasure from her as her soft cries fill the room, each one a melody more beautiful than the last.

With each moan, your confidence builds, the initial hesitation melting away. Soon, your movements grow less restrained, driven by an almost primal need to pull more from her, to hear her voice climb higher. You press your tongue more firmly against her, each stroke hungrier, more desperate. The desire to make her lose herself completely consumes you, fueling every motion. You focus intently on the way her body responds—the slight tremble in her thighs, the way her hips instinctively shift toward you, chasing every sensation.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Haneul shifting on the couch. Her breathing has deepened, the subtle hitch in each exhale betraying her growing arousal. When you glance briefly in her direction, your heart skips. Her thighs are pressed tightly together, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her skin flushed with heat. Her dark eyes are locked on you, a mix of fascination and hunger, drawn to the intensity with which you’re worshiping Belle. The sight of you so consumed, so eager, is clearly affecting her.

The realization sends a thrill through you, but you return your focus to Belle, determined to elicit even more from her. Each movement of your tongue becomes calculated yet frantic, teasing the edges of her folds before delving inside. You savor the way her body reacts, the faint shudder that ripples through her as you alternate between swirling around her entrance and flicking lightly against her clit. Every motion pulls another sound from her lips, a fresh wave of breathy, unrestrained moans that fill the room like music.

Your hands grip her thighs to steady yourself, your fingers digging into the soft flesh as you hold her open. When her legs begin to tremble, instinctively trying to close against the overwhelming sensations, you tighten your hold, refusing to let her escape the intensity. Belle’s moans grow louder, her voice breaking into gasps as her back arches, her hands gripping the couch tightly. The usual control she carries so effortlessly is unraveling before you, every sound she makes spurring you on.

From behind you comes a soft gasp, breaking through the haze of your focus. You pause, turning your head slightly, and your breath catches. Haneul is completely naked now, her clothes discarded and forgotten in the growing pile on the floor. Her hands move over her body, one slipping between her thighs, her fingers working rhythmically as she watches. Her gaze is locked on you and Belle, but there’s something deeper in her eyes—a connection that pulls you back toward her every time. Her breath is uneven, her lips parted, her expression a mix of arousal and admiration.

The sight of her—the way she’s looking at you, her body glistening in the low light—ignites something even hotter inside you. As much as you want Belle, as consuming as this moment is, Haneul’s presence grounds you, intensifies your desire. You turn back to Belle, your determination redoubled. If this was your moment to impress, to give them both something unforgettable, you weren’t going to hold back.

Your attention zeroes in on Belle’s clit now, your tongue moving with rapid precision against the sensitive nub. Each flick and press earns you a sharper gasp, a louder moan. Her hips buck against you, her movements desperate as her body chases the pleasure you’re giving her. Your hands hold her legs firmly in place, spreading her wider, ensuring she can’t escape the onslaught of sensation. Belle’s cries grow louder, her usual poise dissolving into pure, unrestrained pleasure.

"Don’t stop," she gasps, her voice high and trembling, her chest heaving with every word. Her fingers dig into the couch, her thighs quivering beneath your grasp as she teeters on the edge. You don’t relent. Your tongue is relentless, teasing and pressing and flicking with a rhythm that drives her higher and higher. Her legs strain against your arms, her muscles taut, but you hold her open, refusing to let her pull away from the intensity.

Belle’s climax builds rapidly, her moans turning into sharp cries as her body begins to quake. You can feel it—the way her thighs tighten, her hips jerk involuntarily, her entire body preparing for release. When it hits, it’s like an explosion. Her voice breaks into a loud, unabashed cry as her back arches, her fingers clutching the couch for dear life.

A sudden rush of liquid warmth drenches your face and chest, Belle’s release coming in an overwhelming wave. It’s powerful, unexpected, and utterly intoxicating. The sharp, heady scent of her arousal fills the air, thick and unmistakable, as her body jerks uncontrollably beneath your grip. You pause for a heartbeat, stunned by the rawness of the moment, the sheer force of her climax leaving her trembling violently. Her soft whimpers fill the air, each one high-pitched and shaky as the last waves of pleasure crash through her. Her thighs quiver, her knees giving out completely, and the tension in her frame melts into exhausted surrender as she slumps forward, still twitching from the aftershocks.

Behind you, Haneul lets out a choked cry, her voice breaking with the intensity of her own release. You turn your head just in time to see her arch back, her body taut as if caught in the grip of something uncontrollable. Her hand moves frantically between her legs, her fingers glistening with her arousal as her hips buck against her touch. Her thighs clamp together momentarily, her movements erratic as her climax overtakes her with full force.

Her moans are raw and unrestrained, filling the room as her body trembles violently. Her free hand grips the edge of the couch. She fights to keep herself grounded, but her body betrays her—every muscle quakes as wave after wave of pleasure floods her senses. A sudden gush of her release escapes, slicking her thighs and pooling beneath her, the scent mingling with Belle’s and creating an intoxicating blend of musk that saturates the air.

Her head tilts back, her mouth open in a silent scream before another loud, broken moan escapes her lips. Her entire body shudders as the peak finally crests, leaving her slumped against the couch, her chest heaving and her skin glistening with sweat. Her cries mix with Belle’s lingering whimpers, creating a shared symphony of pleasure that echoes off the walls, binding the three of you in the raw, primal intensity of the moment.

The air feels heavy now, thick with the scent of release and the echoes of your shared sounds. The moment stretches endlessly, each of you caught in the lingering aftershocks, bound together by the raw intimacy of it all. Belle reclines against the couch, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath, her body still trembling faintly from the intensity of her climax.

Her gaze flickers to Haneul, who is slumped back on the couch, her flushed skin glistening in the dim light. Haneul’s breaths come in shallow gasps, her body visibly relaxed yet humming with the residual heat of her release. Their eyes meet briefly, a shared look passing between them—something unspoken, an acknowledgment of the rawness and beauty of the moment they’ve just shared. Belle’s lips curl into a faint smile, her confidence glowing in the aftermath, and Haneul mirrors it with a soft, breathless laugh.

As Belle’s gaze shifts, it lands on you, still kneeling between her legs. Her eyes drop slightly, taking in your form, and then lower still. She notices your member, back at full strength, glistening faintly with a mix of exertion and her previous attentions. A mischievous spark lights in her eyes as an idea begins to form. She straightens slightly, her body language shifting back into one of command, her movements deliberate and poised. Her gaze flickers between you and Haneul, her lips curling into a smirk.

"Alright," she murmurs, her voice low and commanding. Her eyes lock onto Haneul with an air of playful authority. "Haneul, lie down for me—right here."

She gestures to the space where she had just been, the fabric still warm and damp from her release. Haneul hesitates for only a moment, her eyes darting to yours, seeking silent reassurance. When you nod, she mirrors the gesture, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks as she moves to the couch. There’s a nervous grace in the way she positions herself, her movements tentative but unresisting. She leans back against the armrest, her legs spreading slowly, exposing folds already glistening with arousal. Her breathing quickens, and her gaze alternates between you and Belle, anticipation written across her face.

Belle shifts to the opposite end of the couch, bending over the armrest so she’s facing Haneul. The position stretches her body out provocatively, her curves taut and inviting, her flushed, sweat-slicked skin catching the light in a way that makes her look almost otherworldly. Despite her disheveled state, her smirk remains confident, teasing, as if she were still performing. She lifts her head slightly, her eyes locking onto you as she gestures with a lazy wave of her fingers. "Behind me," she says, her tone firm but laced with playful authority. "Let’s make sure your girlfriend has the best seat in the house."

Your breath hitches as you step forward, positioning yourself behind Belle. From this angle, the sight before you is almost too much to take in—Haneul reclining in front of you, her flushed face framed by her tousled hair, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. Her legs remain spread, her folds pulsing faintly as her fingers move over herself in slow, deliberate circles. Then there’s Belle, bent over in front of you, her body radiating heat, her hips tilting slightly to give you better access. The combination—the contrast of Belle’s commanding confidence and Haneul’s vulnerable allure—sends a rush of heat surging through you.

You guide yourself to Belle’s entrance, your tip brushing against her warm, slick folds. The sensation is immediate, electrifying, and for a moment, you falter, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the moment. Belle lets out a low hum of approval, her body shifting back toward you in encouragement, the motion subtle but unmistakable. She glances back at you with a smirk, her gaze equal parts amused and urging, her confidence pulling you forward.

Taking a steadying breath, you press forward, easing yourself inside her with slow, deliberate movements. The first push is exquisite, her tight warmth enveloping you inch by inch. Belle’s breath catches, her soft gasp breaking into a low moan as you stretch her. Her fingers clutch at the armrest, her knuckles whitening briefly as she adjusts to your size. The sound sends shivers down your spine, the rawness of it matching the tension coiling in your body. She exhales shakily, her voice low and laced with satisfaction. "There we go," she murmurs, her tone teasing but edged with need.

Your eyes flick instinctively toward Haneul, seeking reassurance in this surreal moment. She’s watching intently, her lips parted as her chest rises and falls in rhythm with her quickening breaths. Her hand moves boldly now, her fingers gliding against her folds as her arousal heightens. The wet sounds of her pleasure mingle with Belle’s breathy moans, creating a symphony of desire that fuels your movements.

You start with a slow, measured rhythm, your thrusts deliberate as you focus on the way Belle responds. Her body moves with yours, her hips rolling back to meet each motion, a soft hum escaping her lips with every push. The grip of her walls around you is overwhelming, each stroke building the tension higher. Your hands grip her hips firmly, grounding yourself as the moment threatens to sweep you away.

But it’s Haneul’s gaze that keeps drawing you back. Her heavy-lidded eyes flicker between your face and where your body connects with Belle, her expression a mix of awe and unfiltered arousal. Her fingers quicken between her thighs, her soft, breathy sounds spurring you on. The sight of her like this—completely enthralled, her body trembling as she watches—is almost enough to undo you.

Belle shifts beneath you, her movements growing more insistent. Her body rocks with your rhythm, her back arching slightly as she pushes against you, trying to match your thrusts. The soft, slick sounds of your connection fill the room, each movement drawing a quiet gasp or low moan from her lips. But it’s not enough. Her hips press back harder, meeting yours in a way that makes your breath hitch, her determination to draw more from you undeniable.

She turns her head slightly, her dark eyes locking onto yours over her shoulder. There’s a heat in her gaze, a challenge sparking behind it that sends shivers through you. "Faster," she murmurs, her voice breathy but commanding, every word dripping with need. Then, with a smirk tugging at her lips, she adds, "Harder." The words land with weight, her tone tinged with expectation, daring you to give her everything she’s asking for. The tension coils tighter in your chest, and you feel the pulse of heat shoot straight through you.

You adjust your rhythm, your hips driving forward with more force. Each thrust sends a jolt through Belle’s body, her gasps turning into louder, more desperate cries as her hands clutch the armrest for support as she braces herself, her back arching deeper with every movement. But Belle isn’t content to let you take full control. Her hips grind backward into you, the motion deliberate and hungry as she matches your pace. The sheer effortlessness of her movements, the way she works her body to meet yours, leaves you breathless.

Her moans grow louder, more frantic, as the intensity builds. Her legs tremble beneath her, her knees shifting against the floor as she struggles to maintain her balance. Her hips buck against you, her movements urging you to go deeper, harder, her body demanding more. The force of each thrust pushes her against the edge of the couch, her body pressed firmly into the armrest. The soft fabric does little to muffle the sound of her cries as they rise higher, turning into sharp, high-pitched whimpers with every deep stroke.

But something still holds you back—a faint hesitation lingering in the back of your mind, the weight of the moment pressing on you. Your gaze flickers toward Haneul, seeking her grounding presence, and the sight of her makes your breath catch.

Her eyes glisten with arousal, her gaze flickering between your face and the way your body moves with Belle. Her chest heaves with every breath, her own arousal climbing as her fingers work with increasing urgency. Her thighs tremble, her movements growing bolder as she watches you, completely lost in the rhythm you’ve created. When she notices the slight falter in your thrusts, her lips curl into a soft, knowing smile.

"Give her everything, baby," Haneul whispers, her voice trembling but full of certainty. Her words carry no jealousy, only a quiet thrill, the sincerity in her tone sending a fresh rush of desire through you. "Don’t hold back."

Her words break whatever was holding you back. You grip Belle’s arms firmly, your fingers wrapping around her toned biceps as you pull her back toward you. The strength of your hold sends a jolt through her, her breath hitching in surprise. The first thrust with this newfound confidence hits a spot deep inside her, and the sharpness of her reaction is immediate—a loud, high-pitched squeal that escapes her lips, raw and unrestrained. Her body rocks forward, her legs losing their grip on the floor as the force of your motion propels her into the couch’s edge.

Belle braces herself instinctively, her body jerking forward with each powerful thrust. But with her arms pinned securely behind her, gripped firmly in your hands, there’s nothing for her to hold onto, nothing to ground her against the relentless rhythm. Her head tilts forward, dark strands of hair clinging to her damp neck and shoulders, the strain in her posture only amplifying the vulnerability of her position. Each thrust sends her rocking into the edge of the couch, the plush fabric sandwiching her hips, forcing her to take every inch of you with no escape.

The angle leaves her completely at your mercy, her body arching slightly as each deep, unrelenting stroke sends shockwaves through her. Her voice rises in pitch, raw and breathless, every sound spilling from her lips a mix of desperation and pleasure. The force you drive into her keeps her pinned against the couch, her body unable to resist the steady, punishing rhythm.

Her cries grow louder, more broken, the lack of control heightening her response. "Oh—God, Yes!" she gasps, her voice cracking as her legs quiver beneath her. Her body seems to melt into the moment, yielding entirely to the intensity of your movements, her form trembling as each thrust pushes her further into the edge of bliss. The tension in her thighs gives way, and she surrenders fully, the curve of her back accentuating the way she takes you, completely open, completely consumed.

Haneul watches the two of you, her eyes wide with arousal as her breathing grows shallow. Her gaze roams over your body, the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, highlighting the way your muscles flex with every deep thrust into Belle. Her thighs press together briefly, her hand pausing before resuming its circular motions as she takes in the sight. The sheer hunger in your movements, the raw force of your rhythm, sends a fresh wave of heat surging through her. She can’t believe how arousing it is to see you like this—so primal, so utterly consumed.

Her fingers move faster as she gives in to the sight before her. Every sound—the wet slap of your bodies connecting, Belle’s unrestrained cries, the ragged rhythm of your breath—pushes her closer to the edge. Her thoughts spiral into a chaotic mix of disbelief and desire. She never imagined she’d feel this way, watching you with someone else, but the reality is undeniable.

Belle’s cries shift, her voice breaking into choked moans as the intensity of your thrusts makes it impossible for her to keep her composure. "Fuck, you feel so good." she gasps, her voice trembling. Her back arches further, her body instinctively seeking more even as the couch forces her hips upward, heightening every sensation. Her legs tremble uncontrollably now, the floor offering no anchor as her knees slide slightly with each powerful thrust.

The pleasure coursing through Belle is relentless, each motion driving her closer to the brink. "Don’t stop," she cries, her voice a ragged mix of plea and demand, her words breaking as her breaths come faster. You can feel her trembling under you, her body tightening with each deep thrust. Her arms strain against your grip, but there’s no escape. She can only take what you’re giving her, her fingers curling helplessly in the air as her legs quiver beneath her, barely holding her up.

Haneul’s eyes flick between Belle’s flushed, sweat-slicked body and yours, her gaze darting to the way your muscles flex and shift with every motion. Her own arousal mounts uncontrollably, the tension in her body coiling tighter and tighter. Her breathing grows shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly as soft whimpers escape her lips. Her fingers work furiously between her legs, her thighs trembling as the pleasure surges higher, threatening to overtake her. Her flushed skin glows in the low light, her lips parted as though trying to find air in the heated haze of the moment.

Belle notices Haneul’s struggle, the way her fingers falter slightly, her movements becoming erratic as the edge looms dangerously close. Between her moans, Belle lets out a shaky laugh, her voice breaking under the strain. "Not yet," she gasps, her words sharp and commanding despite the tremble in her tone. "Hold it."

Haneul’s eyes widen, her body freezing momentarily as the words sink in. Her hand stills, and her legs clamp together instinctively as she fights the rising tide threatening to crash over her. Her body trembles violently, her teeth sinking into her lower lip in a desperate attempt to hold on. Her hands clutch at the couch as she pushes back against the overwhelming wave of pleasure, refusing to let it consume her. Every nerve in her body feels like it’s on fire, her muscles straining as she teeters precariously on the edge.

You feel it too—Belle’s body clenching around you, her cries turning into breathless, frantic whimpers as her climax builds to an unbearable peak. Her head tilts forward, dark strands of hair clinging to her damp skin as her body trembles uncontrollably. Her voice cracks as she repeats the command, her tone desperate and insistent. "Hold it. Not yet."

The tension in the room is unbearable, a shared anticipation that binds the three of you together. Every sound, every movement feeds into the moment, the energy coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. Belle’s voice finally cuts through the haze, gasping out in a tone laced with both authority and desperation. "Now, Haneul. Let go."

The release is immediate, and the room erupts in a symphony of pleasure. Haneul cries out loudly, her voice raw and uninhibited as her body arches off the couch, the intensity of her climax washing over her in crashing waves. Her hands clutch the fabric beneath her, nails digging into them as her thighs tremble violently, unable to contain the force of her release. Her head tilts back, her lips parted in a series of broken gasps and cries as the pleasure consumes her completely.

Belle’s body tightens impossibly around you as her own climax hits. Her cries rise in pitch, her voice breaking into a series of unrestrained moans as her legs give out completely, leaving her suspended only by the couch’s edge and your firm grip on her arms. Each deep thrust pushes her further into bliss, her body trembling violently as she surrenders entirely to the overwhelming sensations. Her head tilts back, her mouth open in a silent scream before another loud, desperate cry bursts from her lips, the force of her release echoing through the room.

The intensity of the moment sends you over the edge, the sight of both women undone by pleasure pushing you past your limit. With one final, deep thrust, you empty yourself inside Belle, the warmth and tightness surrounding you heightening every sensation. A guttural moan escapes your lips as your body trembles with the force of your release, every muscle taut before the wave of pleasure washes through you, leaving you breathless and shaking. Belle’s body clenches around you, milking every last bit of your release as she shudders beneath your grip.

The room fills with a harmony of moans, each voice blending together in a perfect, raw symphony of shared ecstasy. The sounds—Haneul’s cries of pleasure, Belle’s desperate moans, and your own guttural groans—echo off the walls, amplifying the intensity of the moment. The mingling scents of sweat, arousal, and release create a heady, intoxicating musk that clings to the air, making the atmosphere feel thick and electric.

You stay there for a moment, catching your breath as the room grows quieter, the echoes of your shared moans still lingering in the thick, musk-filled air. The three of you are trembling, spent, your bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. When you finally pull out, Belle’s body jerks slightly at the motion. She tries to straighten herself, but her legs give out beneath her, leaving her slumped against the armrest. She lets out a soft laugh, her usual confidence momentarily replaced with breathless exhaustion.

"Here," you murmur, stepping forward and gently guiding her to sit on the couch. She shifts carefully, her movements languid as you help her settle into a position facing Haneul. Belle leans back, her legs spreading lazily, her body still radiating heat. Her eyes flicker to Haneul, and her smirk returns, teasing and wicked. "Come here, sweetheart," she purrs, her voice low and inviting. She gestures downward, her fingers tracing idly along her inner thigh. "Clean up your mess."

Haneul hesitates for only a moment, her eyes darting to yours as though silently seeking permission. When you give her a subtle nod, her lips part, and she moves forward on shaky knees, positioning herself between Belle’s legs. Her hands glide along Belle’s thighs, her touch delicate but deliberate, her fingers brushing over the slick remnants of your release. Belle shivers at the contact, her breath catching as Haneul leans in closer.

Haneul’s lips press against Belle’s folds, tentative at first, her tongue sweeping softly along her. Belle gasps, her body twitching slightly as the sensation sends fresh tremors through her. Haneul becomes bolder, her tongue moving with slow, deliberate strokes, cleaning every trace of you from Belle’s warm, sensitive skin. Her fingers follow, slipping carefully inside to scoop out the remaining seed. Haneul brings her fingers to her lips, licking them clean with a precision that makes Belle let out a shaky moan.

"God," Belle murmurs, her voice unsteady as her body shudders under Haneul’s attention. "You’re thorough, aren’t you?"

Haneul doesn’t respond, her focus entirely on the task at hand. Her tongue and lips continue their work, moving with a mix of care and hunger that draws soft, breathy sounds from Belle. Each stroke of her tongue sends aftershocks through Belle’s body, her thighs trembling uncontrollably as her head tilts back, her damp hair clinging to her skin. By the time Haneul finishes, Belle is slumped against the back of the couch, her chest rising and falling heavily, a long, satisfied sigh escaping her lips.

When Haneul sits back, her lips glistening and her cheeks flushed, she meets your gaze. You’ve been watching from nearby, leaning against the armrest, your heart pounding as you take in the scene. The intensity of the moment is reflected in her expression—a mix of awe, satisfaction, and a lingering arousal that hasn’t entirely subsided.

Without a word, Haneul rises onto her knees and turns toward Belle. Her hands rest gently on Belle’s thighs as she leans in, her lips brushing Belle’s in a soft, exploratory kiss. The contact deepens quickly, their mouths moving together, sharing the mingled taste of you. Their kiss grows more fervent, their bodies pressing together briefly before Haneul pulls back, her chest rising and falling as she turns toward you.

You sit back on the couch, the cushions soft beneath you as you watch her approach. Haneul climbs onto your lap, her knees straddling you as she presses close, her arms wrapping loosely around your neck. Her lips find yours immediately, and the kiss is warm, insistent, filled with a mix of tenderness and lingering heat. You can taste Belle on her mouth—the traces of her release and your own mingling on her tongue—and it sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you, even in the haze of exhaustion.

Haneul melts into you, her body fitting perfectly against yours as she snuggles into your chest. Her head rests on your shoulder, her breathing evening out as she presses soft kisses to your neck. Your arms wrap around her instinctively, holding her close as the weight of the night settles over the three of you.

Belle shifts beside you, her movements unhurried, her body still radiating the warmth of exertion. She reclines lazily next to you, her smirk softening into something gentler. With a quiet sigh, she leans in, resting her head on your opposite shoulder. The scent of her hair—sweet with a faint musky undertone—fills your senses as her body relaxes against yours. Her fingers idly trace along your arm, her touch light and content.

The three of you sit in comfortable silence, the heat of the moment giving way to a warm, shared intimacy. Haneul’s soft kisses continue, her lips grazing your skin as her body molds against yours, her warmth seeping into you. Belle’s breathing steadies, her head nestled on your opposite shoulder, her hair tickling your neck as her eyes flutter closed. The satisfied curve of her lips lingers even as her body begins to relax fully. Your arms tighten around Haneul, one hand brushing lightly against Belle’s arm, grounding all of you in the quiet connection of the moment.

The aftermath unfolds in a haze of gentle movements and shared smiles, the intensity giving way to an almost surreal calm. Eventually, Belle stirs, her head lifting from your shoulder as she stretches with a languid grace. Her legs are still unsteady, and she steadies herself briefly on the edge of the couch before smirking. "You two are something else," she murmurs, her voice carrying a teasing warmth as she reaches for a nearby robe. She drapes it over herself loosely, tying it at her waist before turning back to face you and Haneul.

Belle steps closer, her dark eyes meeting yours with a quiet intensity. Without a word, she leans in, her lips brushing softly against yours in a lingering kiss. The gesture is simple, but the tenderness behind it leaves you breathless, your chest tightening as she pulls away. Then, she turns to Haneul, cupping her face gently in her hands. Their kiss is just as soft, just as deliberate, and when Belle pulls back, there’s a glimmer of affection in her smile.

"You’re lucky," she says, her voice low and sincere, her gaze flicking between the two of you. "Both of you."

She reaches for a small bag on the nearby table, her movements unhurried. From it, she pulls out a pair of sleek, laminated passes, their glossy surfaces catching the dim light. "Here," she says, holding them out. "These will get you backstage at any of my shows. Consider it my personal VIP invitation." Her smirk softens slightly, a hint of mischief in her expression. "I hope I see you again."

With a small wave and a final glance over her shoulder, Belle steps out of the room, leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume. The door clicks softly shut, and the quiet, dimly lit space feels heavier, more intimate, as you and Haneul are left alone together.

As you both step out of the venue, the cool night air wraps around you, a stark contrast to the heat and intensity of the evening. The adrenaline from the night begins to fade, leaving behind a pleasant exhaustion that settles deep into your bones. Haneul leans heavily against you, her arm slipping around your waist as her steps falter slightly. She lets out a soft laugh, her cheeks still flushed and glowing.

"My legs feel like jelly," she mumbles, glancing up at you with a sheepish smile. "I don’t think I can make it to the car without collapsing."

You chuckle, steadying her as she stumbles again. "Want me to carry you?"

She pouts, her tone playful but tinged with genuine need. "Would you? Please? I’ll be the best girlfriend ever."

You crouch down, laughing softly. "You already are. Come on, hop on."

With a giggle, she climbs onto your back, her arms wrapping securely around your shoulders. Her warmth presses against you, and her face nestles against the side of your neck, her breath tickling your skin. "You’re the best," she murmurs, her voice soft and affectionate.

The walk across the large parking lot is quiet at first, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the stillness. Haneul sighs contentedly, her cheek resting against your shoulder as you carry her, the weight of her feeling comforting and grounding.

After a moment, you break the silence. "So… what did you think?" Your voice is hesitant, unsure, as the memories of the night replay vividly in your mind. "Was it… okay?"

Haneul shifts slightly, tightening her arms around you as her lips brush against your ear. "Okay?" she repeats, incredulous. "That was… I don’t even have words for how hot that was."

Her words send a wave of warmth through you, a mix of embarrassment and relief flooding your senses. "Really?" you ask, glancing back at her. "I mean, I thought you’d like it, but I wasn’t sure "I didn’t think it would be so hot," she says suddenly, her tone earnest and spilling over with excitement. Her words come quickly, like she’s unable to contain them. "But watching you—" She pauses for a moment, a small, almost shy laugh escaping her lips before her voice picks up again, stronger. "Watching you let go like that, after I told you to? God, it was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen."

Her arms tighten around your shoulders, and you can feel her breath hitch slightly as she continues. "You were holding back at first—I could see it in every move. But then you looked at me, and I could almost feel it—the exact moment you stopped hesitating. And when you did, it was like you became someone else. All that strength, that power—you just used it. And I knew I’d done that. I gave you that permission, and you didn’t just take it—you owned it."

Her voice lowers slightly, but the excitement lingers in every word. "And Belle," she breathes, a soft laugh escaping her. "To see her like that. She’s so strong, so confident—this larger-than-life presence—and yet, you had her completely undone. She wasn’t the performer anymore; she was just… vulnerable, giving in completely. Watching that happen, knowing you were the one doing it, it was…" She trails off, shaking her head slightly against your neck before whispering, "I don’t think I’ll ever forget it."

She shifts slightly on your back, and her voice grows softer, tinged with awe. "Seeing you like that, knowing you could let go so completely—it was amazing. I didn’t know I’d feel this way, but I loved every second of it. It was… more than I ever expected."

You glance back at her, your brow furrowed slightly. "You’re sure? I mean, you’re not just saying this to make me feel better?"

Haneul chuckles softly, her breath warm against your neck as she presses a kiss to your cheek. "I’m sure," she murmurs. "Really. Every second of it was amazing. I didn’t know I’d feel this way, but I loved it. And… seeing you happy, seeing you like that… It made me happy too."

Her words settle over you like a warm blanket, filling you with a quiet, undeniable joy. You press a kiss to her arm, your heart impossibly full as you continue walking. The night feels surreal, the world around you fading into the background as the two of you bask in the afterglow of what you’ve shared.

By the time you reach the car, Haneul’s head has grown heavy against your shoulder, her soft breaths tickling your neck as she begins to drift off. You carefully lower her into the passenger seat, her sleepy smile barely visible in the dim light. The drive home is quiet, the silence filled with a new kind of intimacy. The memories of the night replay like a vivid dream, each detail etched into your mind.

When you finally reach your place, Haneul is half-asleep, her head resting against the window with a small, contented smile. You carry her inside, her arms draping loosely around your neck as she stirs slightly. As you gently set her down on the bed, she shifts slightly, her lashes fluttering as she blinks up at you.

You brush a stray strand of hair from her face and lean down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Thank you," you whisper, your voice quiet but filled with sincerity.

Her eyes flutter open briefly, and she smiles, her voice barely audible as she murmurs, "For what?"

"For everything," you reply, your thumb tracing her cheek lightly. "For tonight. For… all of it. I’ll never forget it."

Her lips curve into a sleepy smile, and she closes her eyes again, nuzzling into the pillow. "You don’t have to thank me," she whispers, her words fading as she drifts off. "You deserved it."

As you climb into bed beside her, the weight of the night finally settles over you. The events replay vividly in your mind, and you can’t help but smile as you watch her sleep. It’s a memory the two of you will treasure forever.

[ladylokianna]

The nearness of you

The main blame for this one-shot lies entirely to Queen Gorgo and her line "your lips can finish what your fingers have started".

Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader (i'm not used to use the first person p.o.v. mainly because in English i usually mess everything up by trying to fit verb tenses together so i hope everything is comprehensible). 

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Fluff but a little smut towards the end, nothing too explicit 'cause i'm not good at writing it. Fairly ooc Aemond, obviously. But, as I've already said, I really like a softer Aemond, and I like the idea that, with the right person, he would totally show his feelings (after a lot of convincing, of course, as we all know how lacking in affection and love our guy is, and it would take him quite a while before he would let himself go).   

Beta reader: my sister, but like me, she's too obsessed with Aemond and i'm afraid she is not entirely objective. Whatever. Enjoy.

***

Wrapping yourself in your heavy velvet dressing gown, you quickly went back to bed after adding a couple of wooden logs to brighten the fire in the huge fireplace, watching Aemond sleeping peacefully in the dim glow provided by the candles and the burning fire.

He lies prone, his arms folded under the pillow and one leg slightly bent towards the middle of the mattress. His slender body, chiselled by years of training, is relaxed, his features softened.

Despite the fact that the two of you have been married for a long time and that you know every single millimetre of his body, shyness sometimes leads you to blush in front of him, as if you still were the inexperienced young maiden of your wedding night.

You stretch out a hand, at first caressing gently his scarred cheek with the knuckles, paying attention to not hurt his wounded eye, then stroking his head with caring touches, enjoying the sensation of the silky strands between your fingers. He is so distant from the unflattering portrait that your aunt made of him as soon as the news of your betrothal was spreaded through the realm, who depicted Aemond as a "monster ready to feed you to his dragon at his first bad day".

A bit introvert, with a closed-off and apparently unfriendly character, maybe sometimes grumpy but definitely not a monster, Aemond is always caring and gentle with you and the few people he trust and love. Otherwise, you had learnt that his usual demeanour is just a façade, that the real Aemond is the one hanging with you in the library, flying with Vhagar or laying in your marital bed. But all is fine as it is, you surely don't want to change or fix him in any way: after all, what's wrong with him to fix? You love him as he is, and people needs to be loved as they are, not as the world would like them to be.

You move your hand down slowly along his shoulders, feeling under your fingertips the scratches you remember leaving him with the nails during the night, marks that you could find again on his shoulder blades and down his muscular back, on his narrow, jerky hips, marks that goes alongside with older ones earned during his strict sword training. If you close your eyes, you can easily recall the sensation of his muscles moving beneath your touch and the heat of his skin against yours, his hands ceaselessly travelling on your body and his weight as he hold you firmly still against the mattress with the absolute need to feel you trembling beneath him, to hear you screaming his name on each deep and precise thrust of his hips.

Your gaze follows the trail of your nails even further, on the roundness of Aemond's buttocks, on which you suddenly no longer have the courage to stretch your hand, despite the fact that only few hours earlier you had grasped them with all your strength to pull him as closer as possible to your core so he could sink deeper into your walls.

"We'll end up keeping the whole fortress awake... i can stop if it's too much, mh?" he'd chuckled out of the blue, teasing you a little after a loud cry escaped your mouth.

"Don't you dare." was your response, hissed in his ear and making him laugh heartily. "My word, Aemond, if you stop now, i'll make you pay for it."

"Oh, would you? I'm almost tempted to stop right now just to see how you will make me pay for my disobedience."

Shooking your head, with your hand still steady right above the dimples at the bottom of his back, you furtively check if Aemond is still asleep, surrendering to the urge to repeat the same gestures of that night: taking a deep breath, your hand lingered on the smooth skin of his bare ass, savouring that feeling for a while before squeezing it gently.

"Your lips can finish what your fingers have started."

You gasp surprised, blushing like you're again that little girl caught stealing the pastries set to cool in the kitchens of your father's castle, noticing the smirk painted on Aemond's lips and his wonderful eye pointed at you, clearly amused and flattered by your attentions.

"I thought... Gods... i thought you were asleep... how long have you been awake?"

"Hm...a while. Let's say since i felt your fingers on my face." he hummed, noticing your reddened cheeks. "How come that we're married for a long time yet you still blush over me? Oh, look at you... don't be shy, darling. You know you can touch whatever you want, whenever you want."

Blushing was the least of it, since a glance from him was often enough to set you on fire.

"Keep going though, i was enjoying it."

Yeah, of course he was. "What a little rascal you are."

With a wide smile Aemond turns on his back, offering his whole being to your gaze, to your will.

"Come darling, come to me." whispers, stretching his arms towards you and guidind you on top.

His skin felt so familiar and warm it hurt your heart. Moving a little, you adjust yourself on his pelvis before running your hands over him again, and again, and again, until suddenly you can feel his yearning running through his veins like a fire, bringing his blood to the boiling point, flushing his skin: you can sense it by the way his manhood is already leaking against you. With his breathing more strained, Aemond pulls himself up to sit, his muscles tensed at every single touch on his body, letting you taking him again as his hands flattened against your spine, drawing you as closer as possible.

"Don't be shy, you can do what you want to me. I'm yours."

[msschemmenti]

fun police - 4

bau x reader / eventual emily prentiss x reader

“What is this place?” Emily asked, walking across the parking lot toward the younger woman. She’d received an email the night before with a location, a time, and a rather direct order to be there or ‘be square’ that she really had no choice but to chuckle at.

“Good morning to you too. It’s like you’re allergic to those words. Haven’t you ever had a good morning?” Y/n asked with a teasing grin. When Emily was close enough for her to see her scowl, she answered. “Oh alright, grumpy. This is the Mental Health Oasis. A twenty-four-hour wellness center.” 

“So a gym?” Emily summarized, with a smirk– aiming to ruffle the younger woman’s feathers. 

But as if reading Emily’s mind, Y/n just smiled and moved toward the door. “No, it’s a wellness center– like I just said. Now come on, we’ve got an appointment with Marta and she hates tardiness.” As the younger woman held the door open and urged Emily forward, the older woman finally relented and stepped into a space that was definitely more than a gym. Her eyes glazed over at the all-white interior and cushy receptionist area that met her. She turned to grumble some sort of statement to Y/n but was interrupted by a girly squeal behind the reception desk. 

“I totally thought Marta was lying this morning!” The young woman grinned as she made her way around the desk to pull Y/n into a bone-crushing hug. 

“I hoped you’d be working during my visit.” Y/n smiled before pulling away from the woman and turning her attention to Emily, who was perplexed. “I’ve got a challenging client and figured I’d bring her to the Mecca of Relaxation.” 

Emily scoffed, “I am not difficult!” The indignation was clear and Y/n and her mystery friend’s laughter only made Emily frown deeper. 

“Oh look at that frown, I bet she’s got so much tension behind her eyes.” The receptionist observed, stepping into Emily’s personal space to scrutinize her face. She brought her finger up to poke at Emily’s forehead and just as Emily was considering biting her finger, Y/n grabbed her wrist with a knowing smile. 

“Nina honey, remember our personal space conversation last time I was here?” Nina nodded with a grimace and took a step back sheepishly. Y/n smiled and nodded encouragingly, “Is Marta ready for us?” 

At the mention of the other woman’s name, Nina nodded and ran behind the desk to page the woman over the intercom. Once satisfied that the woman was coming, she turned her attention back to Y/n and Emily. “I wish you’d come by more often, it’s not the same without you here.” 

Y/n smiled and leaned over the desk, “I’ll try to stop in more often, but from what I’ve heard, everything has been running smoothly since I left.” Nina made to disagree but Y/n stopped her as she caught sight of Marta. With a promise to catch up later, Y/n grabbed Emily’s wrist and all but dragged her over to the open door being held open. “Thanks for fitting us in Marta.” 

“Anything for you, Y/n.”

They all stopped at a hallway and Marta finally turned her attention to Emily with a smile. “Hi, I’m Marta. And welcome to the Wellness Oasis. A sure-fire way to ensure even the most stressed individual discovers their inner calm. ” 

-

Emily couldn’t think of a time when she’d felt more comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time in her life. Hidden beneath a sheet, both she and Y/n were being rolled out like freshly formed dough. A mid-day massage, that she could get behind. The uncomfortable part was all in her head. As soon as they’d stepped into the dim candle-lit room, all she could think about is how her wellness agent was naked under that sheet and so was she. And had they been alone, she’s not too sure what she would’ve done. 

“Agent Prentiss, you carry so much tension in your neck.” The masseuse chided, as she added more pressure. They’d been doing that the entire time, interrupting her extremely unprofessional train of thought with a morsel of information. Sleeping positions, morning stretches, and all that stuff. But as soon as she mumbled out something close to acknowledgment, her brain was back to working overtime creating images and scenarios of how this could end. 

Lost in her thoughts, she seemed to miss the movement in the room altogether. But the new hands on her back brought her back to reality instantly. Emily cleared her throat roughly and tried to force her body relax as she caught the marruesus’ shoes leaving the room. 

“I hope you don’t mind, I just couldn’t resist putting my hands to good use.” Y/n spoke quietly as she slowly worked Emily’s shoulders. 

Emily fought tooth and nail trying to suppress a moan, “Do you even know what you’re doing?” She stuttered, grappling for a playful nonchalance.

Y/n rolled her eyes, pressing a bit firmer into Emily’s back and when she felt the older woman wince she answered. “Yes, I’m a licensed massage therapist. I also used to run this place.” 

“Oh?” Emily moaned out giving into the pleasure a bit too freely. 

“Yep, only started doing private sector work this year. Bureau scooped me up rather quickly. And now that I’ve gotten my hands on your back– I’m starting to realize why.”

“I’d pretend to be offended if you weren’t so good at this.” Emily groaned, rolling her neck to the side in content. 

“Gosh, if I knew this was all I had to do to get you to be more agreeable, I would’ve done two sessions ago.”

Emily didn’t say anything but she surely wished Y/n had started with this too. 

-

“So how do you feel?” Y/n asked as they both returned to the front of the building in their clothes again. 

Despite Emily’s dirty mind, she had to admit she felt much looser than she had when she walked into this session. “I’ve always been partial to a good rub down.” 

Y/n shook her head in exasperation, “Is there like a rolodex of innuendo up there?” Y/n asked prodding softly at her forehead. “Do you feel more relaxed? Feel like massages might be a beneficial wellness practice to incorporate into your life?”

Emily swatted the offending finger away softly before shrugging, “Sure, why not? If not for relaxation– for enjoyment.” 

“God, you’re ridiculous. I’ll see you next week. Your office, our usual time.” Y/n sighed. 

“Yes ma’am.” Emily saluted and headed for her car.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Safe Harbor

Pairing: John “Bravo-6” Price x reader

Warnings: fluffy has angst due to hard day at work and our boy is here to comfort his lovey

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, I just realized how much I was slacking with our beloved Captain-

Word Count: 1.2k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The keys jingled faintly in your hand as you unlocked the front door, the weight of the day clinging to you like an unwelcome shadow. Every step from the driveway to the house had felt like wading through mud, each breath harder to draw than the last. By the time you stepped inside, the cozy warmth of your shared home wrapped around you like a much-needed hug.

The house smelled of something savory and comforting. It wasn’t the sharp, artificial tang of takeout. No, this was something homemade, and the realization made the knot in your chest loosen ever so slightly. John. Of course, he’d cooked.

You dropped your bag onto the entryway bench with a soft thud, slipping off your shoes and letting your socks sink into the soft rug beneath your feet. The familiar creak of the wooden floor under your weight was oddly soothing.

"Love?" John's voice carried from the kitchen, deep and steady, with that telltale edge of concern.

"I'm home," you called back, though your voice felt quieter than usual.

John appeared in the doorway a moment later, drying his hands on a dish towel. He looked as he often did after a day off—relaxed but ever-ready, his jeans comfortably worn, his gray sweater slightly loose around his broad shoulders. His sharp blue eyes scanned your face, softening as they took you in.

"You look knackered," he said, stepping closer. "Come here."

Before you could answer, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. The warmth of him, the solid, grounding presence, made you exhale a shuddering breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You let your forehead rest against him, your fingers clutching the soft knit of his sweater.

"Rough one?" he murmured, his voice low and soothing against your ear.

You nodded, too drained to speak.

He pulled back just enough to tilt your chin up, his calloused fingers gentle as they brushed along your cheek. "Go sit down. Dinner’s almost ready."

"John, you didn’t have to—"

"Shh," he interrupted, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a gesture so tender it nearly unraveled you. "Course I did. Go on. Couch is calling your name."

You let him steer you toward the living room, where a soft blanket was draped across the arm of the couch, and the faint flicker of a candle added to the cozy atmosphere. You sank into the cushions, the tension in your muscles easing slightly as you closed your eyes.

You must have drifted for a moment because the next thing you knew, John was kneeling in front of you, holding a plate of steaming shepherd's pie. The buttery mashed potatoes and savory meat filling looked like a dream after the day you’d had.

"Eat," he said simply, handing you the plate along with a fork.

You took it with a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."

"Always," he replied, sitting beside you with his own plate.

The first bite melted in your mouth, the flavors so rich and comforting that it almost brought tears to your eyes. John had always been a surprisingly good cook, though you suspected it was more from sheer determination than natural talent. Early in your relationship, he’d confessed that his time in the military hadn’t exactly afforded him the luxury of learning. But once he realized how much you appreciated a home-cooked meal, he’d thrown himself into it with the same focus he applied to everything else.

"I don’t know how you do it," you said between bites, your voice still tinged with exhaustion.

"Do what?"

"This," you said, gesturing to your plate. "Taking care of me. Knowing exactly what I need."

He shrugged, a small smile playing at his lips. "You make it easy."

You shook your head, letting out a soft laugh. "I don’t think I do."

"Well, you’re wrong," he replied matter-of-factly.

The comfortable silence stretched between you as you ate, the weight of the day beginning to lift. Every now and then, John would glance over at you, as if to make sure you were really okay.

After dinner, John insisted on cleaning up despite your half-hearted protests. You watched him from the couch, the sight of him in the kitchen oddly soothing. There was something about the way he moved—efficient, steady, completely in control—that made you feel like everything was going to be alright.

When he returned, he carried two mugs of tea, setting one in front of you before sitting down and pulling you into his side. You curled into him, letting your head rest against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear was more comforting than anything you could imagine.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your arm.

You hesitated, unsure of where to start. The stress of the day had been overwhelming, but putting it into words felt impossible.

"I don’t know," you admitted softly.

"That bad, huh?"

"Just... a lot," you said finally. "Work’s been non-stop. Everything feels like it’s piling up, and I can’t keep up. I just—" You broke off, your voice catching.

John pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his beard tickling your skin. "You’re doing more than enough, love. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise."

His words settled over you like a warm blanket, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around your frayed nerves.

"Do you ever feel like that?" you asked quietly. "Like it’s all just... too much?"

John was silent for a moment, his hand stilling on your arm. "More times than I care to admit," he said finally. "But you learn to carry it. Or to share the load when you’ve got someone you trust."

You tilted your head to look up at him, his expression thoughtful but calm. "You mean you," you said with a small smile. "Carrying my load for me."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "That’s what I’m here for."

The evening passed in a haze of quiet comfort. The two of you stayed curled up on the couch, the world outside fading into the background. John told you a story from his early days in the military, a rare glimpse into a part of his life he didn’t often share.

By the time the clock ticked closer to midnight, you were barely keeping your eyes open. John noticed immediately, pulling the blanket tighter around you and pressing another kiss to your forehead.

"Bed," he said firmly, standing and scooping you up before you could protest.

"John," you mumbled, your arms looping around his neck. "I can walk."

"Don’t need to," he replied, carrying you up the stairs with ease.

He set you down gently on the bed, pulling the covers over you before climbing in beside you. You turned to face him, your hand resting lightly on his chest.

"Thank you," you whispered.

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You don’t need to thank me, love. Just get some rest. I’ve got you."

As you drifted off to sleep, the last thing you heard was the steady rhythm of his breathing, a quiet promise that no matter how heavy the day, you’d always have him to come home to.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[afreakingdork]

Writing Request: Reader x Donnie's V-Card 💜

Hey, guess what?! I do these anonymously too!

This one goes out to a lovely anon! Thank you for your support!

From now until the poll closes if you can prove to me that you voted hassan/mikey in this poll then I will write any short 100-400 word request like below or draw you a doodle of your chosing!

ᴰᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ: ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ ᵃˢˢᵒᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ᵉⁿᵈᵒʳˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒʳ ᶦᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ.

Under the cut for spice, but it's not explicit!

Donnie had meant to do this so sweetly. He had a plan. He was going to do exactly what you were supposed to. Despite his proclivity otherwise, he was going to lay out rose petals. He was going to set the mood with lighting that made up for that garish red and avoided the danger and smell of scented candles. He had four different playlists prepared and an algorithm ready to switch based on what tempo best suited the night. He had a multitude of condoms in their different texture and make-ups because there should be a choice and he definitely didn't get overwhelmed looking at the yokai selection. he had lubes of the same, but that had thankfully been an easier choice.

So why were you sinking down his length in the bathroom while he sat on the toilet of all things?

Family.

He wasn't thinking of them.

Friends.

They were the furthest things on his mind.

What wasn't was the start of this intimacy. The romantic plan had gone as discussed. You were both ready to take the next step. You inaugurated the evening with a date. There was light dinner that was walked off in cozy arm and arm. There were the lights of the city and a few breath taking jumps to get your heart rate elevated. Though he had taken you to see the city from above, there was a new connotation as New York sparkled in your eyes.

The moment you turned to share the sight with him, you saw his vision and that was it.

You kissed.

It grew a little hotter.

You whispered against him to take you home.

it was another shot of adrenaline as he carried you straight down the closest underground entrance that led to the lair. You whimpered in his arms as he shot you amorous looks throughout. You mewling thing were all the more ready and he equally so even if there was a certain clamminess to his hands.

You got to his room.

He locked up the door tight.

The roses.

The light.

The playlist.

The assortment of choice.

You were thankful in your saunter and plied him with kisses. It made all the agonizing and embarrassing preparation worth it. Those cheek pecks once again drew heat from his core. His heart swelled. It was his turn for the flood of endorphins and you steering the pair of you to bed was your confirmation that you were game. You wanted him. You chose him.

What sweet validation.

As you teetered on the bed, it began. First Leo, who portalled straight in because only the lab had that kind of anti-mystic protection. You squeaked knowing your misdeed, but to the outsider, you looked like you were doing nothing more than making out. Donnie raged at the interruption, but Leo brushed him off saying he needed back-up in dinner choice. Donnie oh, so kindly reminded him that he had already ate and the date was long logged in the family calendar. Leo not so hopelessly stared at him and second guessed the decision before he was run out. Donnie was left fuming at the door as he added a 'DO NOT DISTURB' sign.

"It's alright."

Your voice was sweet nectar.

It beckoned and soothed.

He floated back to you and never reached your lips when the pounding came.

Michelangelo in a tizzy because he'd dropped his ant farm. His latest hobby and the colony has somehow unionized. He spoke of how they were taking over the room with domain expansion ready for the kitchen provision and Donnie screamed over his shoulder for Mikey's to just ready for once in his life. There was a popped syllable and bashful apology before the air hung heavy. The littlest made his review of the three words as loud as possible before he cited comparatively non-nonchalant apologies and annouced to Raph that they were going to war as peace talks fell through.

The oldest brother groaned somewhere not too far away.

A little close for comfort as you shudder where you were beneath your boyfriend.

"I'm starting to realize the others are... right there..."

The first signs of uncertainty flared in his mind, but he could fix this. He enacted sound proofing. He set his entire room to do not disturb. This measure was typically saved for crashing on particularly hard nights, but it was worth it. This was his fault for not remembering how tenacious his family was. He was the one making the best nest for you and his folly had been in placement. Once again secure, you reviewed his preparations with some meter of affection.

There was still a chance.

A kiss.

Shy and sweet that simmered as the burner was on. The heat percolated in bubbling pops of lips leaving for air and little soft moans. They lead further down with your hands shaping his plastron and his at your sensitive sides. Down until your back hit the bed and you pulled him with. His knee slotted between your legs and your heads dipped to share a little more than oxygen.

"PURPLE!"

Splinter's voice was a bucket of ice water in some old time challenge and Donnie could only turn his head before all his carefully constructed provisions were broken through in a second. Mystic prison hadn't been able to hold his father; the man was too powerful for his own lazy right. Especially when he demanded his remote be fixed after the ant army had taken its batteries to power their remote controlled tanks.

Donnie was starting to think he may have to help that endeavor as he marched over to get his dad two triple A's.

You.

You with your kindness.

You with your patience for him.

You talked to his father in the meantime.

Yes, the date was wonderful.

Me and Donnie were planning to spend more time together tonight.

No, we won't be eating dinner with you.

I hope you get the clam chowder you're craving.

When Donnie returned, you looked a little to comfortable on his bed. No longer were you ready to be splayed, but you were sat ready on the edge. A sight of someone in the midst of changed plans, Donnie relegated the union of your love to another night. You would go now and have at it on the battlefield before your war torn bodies enjoyed whatever dinner option Leo presumably wanted instead.

That would be nice.

Be it laying beside you with a sheen of sweat from coupling or conflict, you would look just as radiant.

You finally stood, your face determined, and took his hand to go.

He was putty in your fingertips and only sort of noticed your detour to his table of choice.

Then you were in the hallway where the distant sounds of the fray leaked out.

You didn't go that way.

You turned, presumably ready to get suited up in his lab.

You led him right into the bathroom.

He had been stunned, but you continued to move him.

The door locked.

You worked his fly.

He took a cold seat with a bare thighs on porcelain.

You stripped only the necessary bottom layers.

You prepared yourself.

You prepared him.

Back at where his mind had left him, you had descended upon him with little force. Only the angle was a tricky one, but you were certainly managing. A slow up and down that spread your love out from its fluttering wing beats in his heart to between his legs. The steadily increasing moisture of the right whipping filled the air before you caught him. You shared his distraction with a hopeless smile. You accepted him in all parts, family included and you were his beating heart. It was his pleasure to watch your reassurance slip into little breathy moans and he left behind his place as bystander. In one twitch of his thighs and his hands to your hips, his angle improved and you draped over him to share in the sweetness.

The story for old would include the bed.

it would include the petals.

The gorgeous lit neon.

Playlist number three.

You had full say in the memory he'd print, but this, you framed with the shower curtain in the background, working yourself as hard as you could for him, whispering his name like a plea and your salvation, that part he would leave in for your future generations and he leaned in to make sure you'd agree to it the same way.

[averlym]

litany of the martyrs (click for better resolution!)

[helixcraft]

Before his banner ends, trying out a new style....

[sysig]

Working some more on this Weird Little Guy (Patreon)

[randum-famdoms]

I find it pretty funny how at least half of my posts have tags as long or longer than the post itself

[arsenicflame]

Genuinely, it fits his character so wonderfully- finally taking this time to relax & forget about everything else. To kneel at his lover's feet and fall into a sort of trance, doing the same motion over and over. The satisfaction of a task well done.

I also think he often struggles to calm his brain down- too busy thinking about all the things that still need doing and what could go wrong at any given moment- so he finds it hard to allow himself the time to truly relax. Something like bootblacking lets his brain feel like he's doing something necessary and useful while also getting to have that moment of peace he so desperately needs.

... Anyway, now I'm thinking about Ed tricking him into it when they were younger- it being something he stumbles into almost by luck. After they got their own ship and they stopped having time to be kids and Izzy started getting so anxious about the finer details of running a ship. It's not that he's pulled away from Ed, not at this point, he's still just as present as ever when Ed wants him, but he never sits in the captain's cabin in the evening. Never stays longer than it takes to sort their route or discuss their logs or see the new thing Ed wants to show him. He never stops. The second there's a moment of pause he's onto the next task, and well, Ed's boots do need dealing with. So he frames it as something he needs Izzy to do for him. To sit there and work on them while Ed works out their next move. A job that needs to be done now, with Ed here, as he can't afford to be without his boots at any other time. None of it is completely a lie, but there would be other ways to work it out, if not for Izzy's needs.

The cabin of this ship is only small, so Izzy takes the floor while Ed works at the desk- it's better to keep the mess away from the maps anyway, and his knee, already fucked, couldn't take the floor (not that Izzy would hear it anyway). Ed maintains a chatter as he considers where they're going, just mindless noise that Izzy doesn't need to really listen to. The brush is moving in his hands, round and round in circles, and it's calming, and-

His brain goes quiet for the first time in months. No worries about how they're going to afford food at their next port, whether the knots holding the sails are done properly, if the crews going to mutiny if they don't score big soon. It's all gone from his mind. It's just Ed's voice and the rocking of the ocean and the motion of the brush working the balm into the leather and calm, calm, calm.

Ed notices this immediately, obviously- he hasn't seen Izzy this tranquil since the last time he dragged him and Jack out of a brawl, when he got socked in the face hard enough Ed was sure he'd lose a tooth. The kind of calm he's only ever seen Izzy get from violence and sex and violent sex, but here it is, in this bubble of peace. He won't forget this.

(he's gonna start making Izzy do this every couple months)(this is the real reason he starts wearing all that leather- he's got to get a rota going)

Bootblacking is my favourite kink to give Izzy, because of course this guy would get his rocks off doing precise, repetitive, manual labour. OF COURSE he gets off on what is essentially just another chore on his list.

[sturnsdarling]

‘never have I ever, shared a girl with my brother’

Matt and Chris’ best friend takes an innocent game of ‘never have I ever’ as her opportunity to ask the boys something she’s always wondered

vibe check: THREESOME (obviously no contact between matt and chris the fact that this even needs to be said is insane). dirty talk, softdom!mattandchris, matt the much, double penetration (no lube mentioned but PLEASE USE LUBE i'm so fr), throat fucking (chris receiving), fingering, squirting, titty play, hickies, cream pie, multiple orgasms (i lost count), they both nut inside her (kill me now), cute mini aftercare literally anything you can think of is in this fic dude i could go on forever

5.3k words of pure smut

A/N: the build up/foreplay to the actual smut is basically the scene from challengers because that scene actually changed my life. anyways if you see my search history say anything about how to manifest thought into reality through detailed story writing mind your business.

love and cigs, merc

There was a city wide power outage in LA, you were hanging out at the boys' house with Matt and Chris when suddenly, the TV turned off and the entire house was pitch black. At first you all freaked out, Chris spouting shit about how this is the night you all die and reeling off the game plan for when an intruder comes in, you and Matt were slightly more collected, Matt immediately checking his phone and confirming the power outage whilst you joked along with Chris about how you were going to fight this supposed intruder.

It had been about an hour, Matt had gone to Nicks room to get all his candles and put them on the living room floor, giving you guys some illumination in the dark. Chris was playing music from his phone, feeling grateful for spotify's offline option. You guys had exhausted every talking point, and even Chris was running out of things to say.

At some point between boredom and death, you suggested a game of never have I ever, and the boys reluctantly agreed. You weren't really playing properly because they didn't drink but, at least it was something.

"never have I ever, lost my virginity on a bench in Boston" Matt said, raising an eyebrow at Chris who rolled his eyes, punching his brothers shoulder.

"oh my god, I fuckin' forgot that thats how you lost it!" you laughed uncontrollably, keeling over into the rug on the floor.

"I dunno why you're laughing so much, kid, you've definitely done worse" Chris tutted at you.

"oh yeah? like what?" you said, playful confrontation in your voice.

"d'you remember when I had to come get you from that dudes house because you threw up on his dick?" Matt interrupted yours' and Chris' conversation.

Your eyes went wide and you nearly spat out the soda in your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter.

"I remember that! you had to climb out the bathroom window because you were too embarrassed to go back out" Chris was keeled over in laughter.

"we've all been there" You shrugged, owning your embarrassing mistake.

"no, kid, we haven't" Matt chuckled, looking to Chris who's face was scrunched up in a confused laugh.

"oh, come on? you're seriously telling me you've never had an embarrassing sexual encounter" you pressed.

"none involving vomit" Chris spoke through his laughter

"and none where I had to flee the scene by jumping out a window" Matt added to Chris' taunting.

"whatever, you guys are just boring, you're lucky you have me to keep you entertained with my embarrassing ass life" You rolled your eyes, pretending to be offended.

"to be fair, once I did accidentally punch a girl in the face whilst i was trying to fuck her" Chris said, trying to stifle his laughter.

"how the fuck did you manage that" You burst into hysterics.

"it was every dark and fumbly and I was still basically a virgin, okay? I apologised like fifty times and she still made me leave" Chris said, a boyish sulk taking over his body.

"dude that's not as bad as the time I was this close to a threesome with these girls, and I got so anxious that I told them my dog had just died and ran out half naked" Matt said, pinching his fingers together and huffing

"not my boy trev, thats so deep bro" Chris shook his head, acting disappointed in his brother.

Matt bringing up his near threesome experience made your ears perk up, and a question you had always wanted to ask came flooding back into your brain. You had been friends with the boys for a while and, had shared stories of all of your sexual escapades, some funny, some incredible and some awful, you were all totally open with each other.

But, your whole friendship, you'd always been curious as to whether they'd ever been offered a threesome, or taken someone up on one. You knew that girls would approach them both, but if one had more interest than the other, the other would back off and let his brother do his thing.

You uncrossed your legs, laying them out flat and placing one over the other as you leaned back on your palms, arching your back slightly as you looked between the boys.

"I have another never have I ever" You said, breaking their conversation.

They both looked to you at the same time, their breath hitching in their throat slightly at the sight of your chest being illuminated by the flicker of candle light.

"never have I ever...shared a girl with my brother" you said with complete nonchalance, looking back and forth between the boys.

Chris and Matt side eyed each other and looked back to you, mouths slightly agape at your forward question.

"like, fucked the same girl on different nights?" Chris asked, being the slightly braver of the two.

you shook your head, "like, fucked the same girl, at the same time" your voice was getting more and more seductive without even meaning to.

They looked at each other again, and then back to you, both slightly stunned, and slightly turned on by you even asking them that.

"we've been offered" Matt shrugged, "but we said no"

"why?" you said, sitting up straight now.

"cause I don't really wanna see my brothers face when I'm tryna cum" Chris laughed, looking to matt who made and agreeing face.

"interesting" you raised your brow quickly with a downwards smile

"why's that interesting?" Matt said, an air of seductive curiosity in his tone.

you shrugged, "I dunno, I jus' think you'd probably enjoy it", you pulled your legs into a criss cross under you, "you don't think the idea of fucking a girl who's so horny for you that she needs another version of you, is hot?" you tilted your head at them.

The boys were slightly stunned, they'd never thought about it like that before. Chris shifted where he sat, trying to ignore the blood rushing to his crotch as Matts eyes were trained on you, his tongue pressed to his cheek as you smiled at him smugly.

"well, when you put it like that, I guess it doesn't sound too bad" Chris said, letting his eyes wander over your frame.

"I've got one" Matt said abruptly, you and Chris looked to him, "never have I ever, offered my triplet best friends a threesome" Matt smirked at you.

You rolled your eyes and Chris attention shot straight to you, "I did not offer you a threesome-"

"yes, you did" Matt cut you off

"I simply asked if you'd ever had one" you shrugged, pretending to have no idea what he was talking about.

"yeah, and then proceeded to tell us exactly why we'd like it" Chris raised a brow at you, not realising he was edging closer to you on the floor.

"was I right?" you said, cocking a brow at Chris.

"yeah, you were" Matt answered for him.

Suddenly, the boys had come significantly closer to you, sitting in front of you like two siamese cats waiting for permission to do something. Your attention flitted between them periodically, the tension in the air thick with anticipation.

"so what then? would you say yes, knowing what you know now?" you said, trying to maintain your confidence

Matt smirked menacingly as Chris' brows dropped, pressing his tongue into the side of his teeth and looking to Matt. Matt side eyed him and they both returned their attentions to you.

"depends on who was askin" Chris said, eyes trained on yours.

"are you askin', pretty girl?" Matt muttered, his long fingers coming up to play with a strand of your hair.

The pet name made your stomach flutter, you don't think you'd ever been this turned on in your whole life, the sight of the boys' growing bulges from under their joggers making your mouth water as they both gawked at you, waiting for permission to fuck you exactly how they knew you wanted them to.

You didn't reply, only smiled as you leant forward, pressing your lips against Matts softly. He leaned into the kiss instantly, his hand coming to your face to pull you into him. The kiss was slow and somewhat soft, Matt asking for polite permission to press his tongue against yours with a gentle swipe over your bottom lip. You granted him access, and he pulled you in deeper to him with his hand on your jaw. He led the kiss with a gentle dominance that was slightly surprising from him. Chris watched with a slightly open mouth, watching as your tongue lapped and pressed over Matts, growing increasingly desperate to know what you felt like.

You broke the kiss with Matt, and immediately turned your attentions to Chris, kissing him with the same tenderness that you did Matt. Chris was a lot more feverish than his brother, his tongue entering your mouth instantly as his hand came to cup the under side of your chin. He bit at your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth before soothing the sting with a warm kiss.

You were reeling in the feeling of kissing them both, the differences between them being so apparent, and only serving to make you want to know how else they were different.

You broke the kiss with Chris and sat back with a content sigh, looking between the two of them as they gawked at you with puffy lips and hooded eyes. You smiled, pushing your hair back off your shoulders and letting it hang down your back, exposing your neck to them. The boys looked to each other and, in an instant, they were by your sides, mouths latched around your neck, pressing their tongues against the soft skin, trailing kisses down either side of your neck.

your whole body felt like it was on fire, the sensation of the two of them nipping at sucking at you neck making you whimper slightly. Matt trailed his kisses down your chest, pressing his warm tongue along the curve of your cleavage as it begged to be freed from your tight tank top.

Chris went in the opposite direction, moving his mouth up your jaw and capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss as Matt slowly tugged at the hem of your top.

You pulled at the strap of your vest, letting it fall down your shoulder and giving Matt silent permission to free your tits from their confines. He complied, ripping your tank down with brute force, making your tits bounce free. He instantly latched his mouth around your nipple, biting down on the flesh and soothing the sting with a wet press of his tongue.

You moaned into Chris mouth, and his hand instinctively found the nape of your neck, collecting a handful of your hair and tugging on it, pulling your head back as he rose to his knees, not breaking the kiss.

"you like having us both kiss you like this, huh princess?" Chris said, smirking down at you with his lips brushing over yours.

"mhm" you nodded, your reply coming out in a whimper as Matt continued to work your nipple.

"she said it herself, Chris, she's so horny for us that just one isn't enough" Matt chuckled, palming your tit in his large hand, using his other to tease the hem of your joggers.

You flinched at the touch, a small shiver running down your spine at the sensation of Matts soft fingers teasing your skin.

"so responsive" Matt uttered, his attention focused on how your skin came up in goosebumps under his touch.

"come here, baby" Chris said as he shifted over to rest his back against the sofa, pulling you slightly by your hair.

You obeyed his orders, coming to rest in between his open legs, your back pressed to his. Matt turned to face you both, watching as Chris pried your legs open, raking his hands down the inside of your thighs at an agonising place, moving closer and closer to your throbbing pussy, but stopping before he reached you there.

You whined as Chris moved his hands round to the outside of your thighs, and Matt chuckled at your neediness.

"oh, come on, Chris, look how needy she is for it, just give her a little taste" Matt looked you up and down, his eyes hooded

"you want it, princess?" Chris muttered, his lips pressed to your ear as he hooked his fingers around the top of your joggers.

you nodded, head pressed against Chris' shoulder with your lip tucked between your teeth.

"words, pretty girl, we need words" Matt pushed, leaning forward and squeezing your thigh, inching his hand down your leg.

"yes, please, I want it" you whimpered, picking up your heavy head to look between the boys.

"want what, baby?" Chris said, a smirk wide on his lips as he nipped at your earlobe

"I want you both, I need you both to fuck me, please" you said, desperation thick in your voice.

With that, Chris pushed down your joggers as Matt assisted in lifting your hips up. Matt pulled them down, eyes trained on your covered pussy as sticky juices leaked from between the lace. You were soaked, and he couldn't help but reach forward to touch you.

"look, Chris, she's dripping for us" Matt said, pushing a finger up your covered folds, collecting your wetness on his finger, showing the glistening substance to Chris, who's mouth was once again latched around your neck.

Matt continued to tease your hole, getting down to eye level with your pussy as Chris continued to hold your legs wide open for his brother, your back arching into his chest as Chris sucked purple marks all over your neck, one hand in your hair, the other pressing bruises into your knee. Matts hands pushed you open further for him as he pressed his tongue flat against your throbbing pussy, you released a guttural moan at the sensation, your head rolling back on Chris' shoulder, giving him better access to your neck.

Matt wasted no time, he had had a taste of you and now he was hungry. He pulled your panties to the side and latched his mouth around your pussy, pressing his tongue into your hole as his nose brushed against your clit.

Chris pulled his hand out from your hair and began to palm your tit, still relentlessly attacking your neck with wet, warm kisses and soft bites.

The feeling of Chris working your tits as Matt lapped and sucked at your pussy was euphoric, the moans leaving you borderline pornographic as the boys' groaned at the sound of you whimpering for them. Matt brought a slender finger to your entrance, moving up your pussy to suck on your clit as he slipped his finger into your sopping hole with ease. Almost immediately, you clenched around him, and he inserted a second finger, curling them upwards as he coaxed your orgasm from you.

"that feel good, princess?" Chris muttered in your ear, "you sound so fuckin' pretty when you moan, y'know that?"

All you could do was moan in response, any sense of coherence being ripped from you by the second as Matt lapped at your pussy like a man starved. He was moaning, actually moaning with every clench around his fingers, drinking you in like you were his last meal.

Chris twisted and pinched at your nipples, his grip on your knee never wavering as he held you open for Matt. You turned your head, biting down on Chris' jaw and pressing your tongue against the stubble there, he chuckled, and captured your mouth in a feverish kiss, groaning as you bit down on his plump bottom lip. His hand raked down your inner thigh, pressing and squeezing bruises into the flesh as he pressed his tongue against yours.

Matt sucked on your clit, burying his fingers knuckle deep inside of you and grazing your g-spot with his long fingers. You broke the kiss with Chris with a pornographic moan, your hands flying to Matts hair to push him desperately into your pussy.

"i think that means keep going, Matt" Chris chuckled.

Matt looked up at you, your mouth agape and brows furrowed as he thrust his fingers deep inside your pussy over and over again, his tongue running circles around your puffy clit. You couldn't help but grind against Matts face, and he moaned at the feeling, using his free hand to hold your hip, near enough forcing you to grind against his tongue harder.

Chris pulled at your hair, making you look at him again and locking his mouth around yours, tongue aggressively pressing and pushing against yours as he returned his hand back to palm your tits.

You were a whimpering mess, moaning and crying into Chris mouth as Matt brought you over the edge with his tongue. You covered Matts mouth with your cum, shaking and convulsing above him as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. He unlatched his glistening mouth from yours and helped you ride out your orgasm, watching in awe as you bucked your shaking hips into his hand.

"look how pretty she is when she cums, Chris" Matt said, gaining Chris' attention

Chris broke the kiss and chuckled, watching as you shook against his chest, "the prettiest girl in the world" he muttered, raking his hand down your stomach and pressing the pads of his fingers against your pulsating clit.

You shifted against Chris, whimpering as you felt a wave of hot tingles rush over your body. Matt was curling his fingers inside you relentlessly, begging for more of you, and Chris was rubbing fast circles against your clit, using your own sticky juices as lube for his movements.

Your eyes where clenched shut, head heavy against Chris' shoulder as you bucked your hips into their hands, moaning relentlessly and unable to form a single thought. A second, fast approaching orgasm ripped through you, and you clenched hard around Matts fingers.

"please, please, please" you began to beg, unsure of what you were begging for as your orgasm hit you like a freight train.

You released a wave of juices over Matts hand, squirting up his arm as you lifted your hips, stuttering. Chris pushed you back down, chuckling as he watched you squirm.

When you finally began to come down from our high, the boys slowed their pace and Matt pulled his fingered from you, licking them clean and moaning at the taste of you on his tongue.

"you taste so good, pretty girl" Matt shook his head, pulling off his top with one swift movement.

Chris dipped his fingers in your pussy, inciting a small whimper from you, and pulled them out just as fast, wrapping his arm round you to taste you on his fingers.

"fuckin' delicious" Chris groaned, shifting you forward slightly so he could pull down his shorts, letting his leaking cock slap against his stomach.

You were completely spent already, mind reeling from the shattering orgasms you just experienced, but the sight of the boys undressing for you made you feel increasingly desperate. Chris situated you back against his chest, you were both planted on the sofa and he had lifted you up onto his lap, his cock pressed against your sensitive pussy. Chris pried your legs open once more just after Matt had removed your soaked panties, leaving you totally bare for them.

Chris began to tease your folds with his throbbing cock as Matt freed himself of the rest of his clothes.

"you think you can take us both, princess?" Chris muttered in your ear, his voice cracking with every pump of his cock.

"mhm" you nodded, eyes fluttering at the feeling of Chris teasing your folds with his tip, "I can take it"

"good girl" Matt smirked, coming closer to you and Chris as he pumped his hard length in his hand.

Matt and Chris locked eyes and Matt cocked his head, Chris lifted you up slightly and let his cock slip out the way of your entrance. Matt pressed his tip through your folds, a needy whimper falling from your lips as Chris began to rub slow circles around the entrance of your asshole, preparing you to take them both.

"you ready, beautiful?" Matt said, standing over you with his tip pressed into your folds.

"please, give it to me" you nodded desperately.

Matt smiled a prideful smirk and with your words, pushed his girthy cock inside you. You both moaned at the sensation, Matts hands finding the backs of your thighs as Chris held you open for him. Matt bottomed out inside you, brows knitted together at the tightness of your warm pussy around him.

The feeling of Matt stretching you out, coupled with the slow rubs of Chris' gentle fingers against your hole made you feel light headed, moaning uncontrollably as Chris pushed one, and then two fingers into your gaping hole, using your own wetness as lubrication to slip his long fingers in and out of you. The feeling was unusual, but definitely not bad, the warm touch of them both caressing you as Matt rutted into your seeping pussy at an agonising pace, of Chris fucking his fingers into your asshole, stretching you out perfectly, was genuinely blissful.

You had never felt anything like it, and just as you thought it couldn't get any better, Chris lifted you up slightly, causing Matts dick to slip out of you momentarily. He inched his fingers into your mouth, and teased your hole with his long cock.

"bite down on me, baby, it'll help with the sting" Chris cooed in your ear as he pressed his tip into your clenched hole.

As Chris pushed into you, Matt did the same, thrusting his cock back into your warm pussy. You did just as Chris said, biting down on his fingers as Matt and Chris stretched you out completely. You cried out a moan, the sting only adding to your euphoria as they both began to fuck your gaping holes.

You were completely full of them, being thrust into from every angle as Chris fucked up into your tight asshole, and Matt thrust down into your weeping pussy, Chris fingers in your mouth, and Matts hands pressing bruises into the backs of your thighs.

They were both moaning and muttering, praising nonsense, filling the air with low grunts that were nearly drowned out by the moans that left your throat.

"y'taking us so fuckin' well, pretty girl, so fuckin' well" Matt grunted, planting a hard slap on the back of your thigh, kneading the flesh with soothing touches just after.

"so fuckin' tight around me, baby, fuck, you feel so good" Chris groaned feverishly in your ear, biting down on your lobe as he picked up his pace, fucking into your hole with animalistic passion.

Their praises made your head spin, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your third orgasm of the night.

"m'gonna cum, please let me cum, i'm- i'm- i'm" you were rambling, unable to think straight as the boys continued to fuck your holes.

"cum, baby, cum for us" Matt grunted, pressing his thumb over your puffy clit and rubbing steady circles over it.

"show us how pretty you are when you cum, princess, show me again, I miss it" Chris muttered into your ear, pulling his fingers from your mouth and rubbing wet circles over your nipple.

Your orgasm ripped through you, leaving a white sticky ring all around Matts cock as it leaked from you and down onto Chris' balls. Neither of them stopped their pace, fucking you through your high as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your whole body shaking in white hot euphoria as they filled you up. You were borderline screaming at this point, moaning their names over and over again as your whole body tensed.

"so fuckin sexy" Matt grunted, rutting into you with gritted teeth.

Chris watched as your jaw hung slack, slowing his pace in your asshole and pressing a few long, slow and hard thrusts inside of you.

"I need t'know what that pretty mouth feels like" Chris said, pulling out of you. The sting of him removing himself from your gaping hole being soothed by the cool, wet juices of your sopping pussy.

Matt pulled out, earning a whimper from you at the complete emptiness you felt.

Before you could complain, you were thrown about the sofa, head hanging over the edge with your legs pressed against your chest and your mouth stuffed full.

Matt was pounding into you, holding your legs tight against your chest but just open enough so that he could see your tits bounce as he rutted into you.

Chris had his hands wrapped round your jaw, softly caressing your cheeks as he fucked your open throat.

"you're so good, baby, taking me down your pretty little throat like this as Matt abuses your perfect pussy" Chris cooed softly, watching as tears pricked at your eyes, gagging around his massive cock with every thrust.

You loved it, it was exactly what you wanted. The feeling of Matt rutting into you, stretching you out and hitting your g-spot as Chris pounded down into the back of your throat, looking at you like you were an angel as he made you gag around him, was perfect. You reached a hand down to your pussy, and began to rub fast circles over your clit. Matt near enough growled at the sight, fucking you harder than ever, the sting of his skin slapping against yours only serving to push you closer to the edge again.

"keep doin' that, princess, keep playin' with y'self for me, kay? don't you dare stop" Matt grunted, breathy moans escaping his mouth with every thrust into your clenching pussy.

"you gonna cum, beautiful? you like having your throat fucked so much you'll touch yourself over it?" Chris smirked down at you, his pace into your throat never wavering as he periodically threw his head back, thrusting deep into the back of your throat.

You attempted to nod around him, whimpering and moaning around his cock at the familiar tingly feeling creeping up your spine. Chris moaned your name as he bottomed out in your throat, hips stuttering slightly as he reluctantly pulled out and began to thrust in and out once more.

You were clenching hard around Matt, and he knew you were about to cum, uttering encouraging praises to you in hopes of seeing you cum again. "come on baby, gimme one more, y'so fuckin' perfect, such a good girl, jus' gimme one more"

Your pace on your clit began to falter and you came all over Matts dick, moaning around Chris' length as tears fell from your eyes. The feeling of you clenching so hard around him gave Matt the push he needed, and with a few hard and fast thrusts into your sensitive and spent pussy, he came inside you, fucking his cum into you as he rode out his high, pressing bruises into your thighs as his head hung low on his neck.

"fuck, oh my- fuck" Matt groaned, leaning down and biting down on the bone of your knee, trying to steady his bucking hips as they chased the feeling of your warm pussy leaking his own cum all over his cock.

Your whole body felt limp, you were completely fucked out, and yet, as Chris continued to fuck your throat, you found yourself almost sad at the emptiness you felt when Matt finally pulled out of your throbbing pussy.

"Chris, you gotta feel how fuckin' tight she is, dude" Matt sighed, shaking his head and resting back onto the soft couch to catch his breath.

Chris pulled out from the depths of your throat and gave you a warm smile from your hung position over the sofa. He walked round, grabbing your legs and spinning you round so your thighs were spread for him, ass nearly hanging off the edge of the sofa as Chris lined himself up with your spent hole.

"you think you can take just a lil' more, baby? you wanna let me cum inside you as well?" Chris caressed your thigh with one hand and pumped his cock with the other.

"yes, please, Chris, fill me up jus' like Matt did" you whimpered, spreading your thighs wider for him.

Chris smiled, "such a good girl" pressing gentle touches into your thighs as he pushed his cock deep into your aching hole.

Chris' eyes rolled to the back of his head at the feeling of your tight, warm pussy sucking him in like a vice, "Jesus, fuck" he moaned.

You whined at the stretch, not even close to recovered from the pounding Matt had given you. Tears pricked at your eyes once more and you moaned Chris' name, pressing a desperate hand into his chest.

Matt came up beside you, taking your jaw in his hand gently and pressing a tender kiss on your open mouth.

"you can take it, baby, be a good girl and take it" Matt said softly, caressing your hair as you nodded, eyes fluttery and lips parted.

Chris was fucking into you like he'd never felt a pussy like yours in his life. Every time he pulled out, he was sucked back in by your clenching walls, reeling in the way you felt stretched out around him. Your tits were bouncing with every thrust, and with your tongue pressed against Matts in a needy, sloppy, moan filled kiss, you didn't notice Chris' hips begin to stutter. His pace began to falter as he became a rambling mess, thrusting in and out of you, cursing and moaning your name as you moaned into Matts mouth at the feeling of him effortlessly fucking into your g-spot over and over again with his lengthy cock.

With a final hard few thrusts, Chris' mouth was latched around the curve of your neck, biting down on the muscle as he came inside you, filling you up for the second time that night. He fucked you through his high, pushing his cum deep inside your already cum soaked walls.

Matts hold on you was gentle and grounding, him only pulling away from kissing you when Chris mustered the strength to pull out of your perfect pussy.

Chris reached down to the floor and put on his shorts, throwing Matt his and slumping down on the sofa beside you. You were sandwiched between them, Matts head rested on your shoulder and Chris laying over your stomach, your legs hanging open over the edge of the sofa. They were both panting, tracing small circles on your skin as your whole body relaxed into the soft cushion of the sofa.

You were exhausted, completely spent and desperate for sleep as you felt the boys' cum leak out of your sore pussy.

Matt lifted his head up, hooking his finger under your jaw to make you look at him, "you okay, pretty girl?" he asked softly.

You nodded with fluttery eyes and a weak smile, your hand caressing Chris' soft curls as he laid in your lap.

Matt smiled at you, pressing a gentle kiss on your nose, "you wanna go have a nice warm bath and cuddle up in bed with me n'Chris?"

you nodded again, eyes fluttering closed as you hummed, unable to form a sentence.

The boys helped you up, Chris passed you his t-shirt and helped you put it on, telling you to go easy and let him do everything.

They walked you to the bathroom, Matt holding you against his chest as Chris ran the bath and helped you step in, both of them easing you down into the bubbly warm water.

You sighed at the relief of the warm water covering you, your eyes closing and head rolling back on its hinge for a moment.

Matt was sitting down by the side of the tub, his finger tips tracing soft circles on your shoulders as Chris sat on the counter top, sorting the perfect queue of songs to help you relax as much as possible.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous

[rafeandonlyrafe]

5 acts

words: 2k

warnings: soft!rafe, very fluffy, insecurity from rafe, reader is described as having curly hair, established relationship, brief nudity but very sfw (reader is topless while getting a massage but no descriptions)

5 acts of service to spark romance between you and your partner

make their morning easier: make them breakfast, or their coffee just as they like it

take care of their vehicle: get it washed, filled, and oil changed if needed. it'll feel like a weight off their shoulders

organize something meaningful for them: go through an old photo album or set up a space in the home that caters to them

pamper them after a long day: draw a bath, brush their hair, give them a massage 

set up their favorite movie night: get their favorite snacks, light some candles, and turn a simple movie night into a romantic evening

rafe frowns as he reads over the list again.

“baby!” your voice rings out, and he's quick to jump to his feet and rush down the stairs.

“oh!” you stop as he lands on the hardwood in front of you. “you came down so quickly.” you giggle. “i was just going to tell you dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.”

“ill get the table set up.” rafe leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving you to look at him in confusion as he walks away, a certain amount of pep in his step you're not used to seeing.

you get even more suspicious when you bring the dish into the dining room and see that rafe has a candle lit.

“is there a special occasion i forgot about?” you question as rafe pulls your chair out for you.

“nope, just treating my girl.” rafe swallows thickly, surprised and disappointed in himself that you're already noticing his change in behavior.

it all started last weekend when rafe overheard you talking to your girlfriends about love languages. he didn't mean to eavesdrop, truly, but he found himself quickly locked in when you said yours was acts of service and quality time, but that you couldn't think of any acts of service rafe has done recently.

you didn't sound that upset about it, and even immediately clarified that rafe makes up for it in other ways and you weren't even sure what he could do for you, but rafe was determined to change the tides of your relationship.

act 1

rafe shuts his alarm off quickly before looking over at you, making sure the beeping didn't wake you up as well.

he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees your eyes are still closed before carefully sliding out of bed and tiptoeing out of the room.

rafe makes it to the kitchen keeping his steps quiet as he looks around at the various cabinets. he's not sure where to start, so he begins with unloading the dishwasher and putting everything away, when he opens up a cabinet to see the waffle maker and an idea sparks.

rafe opens up the pantry, stepping in to find the mix as well as anything else he might need for the breakfast, and just like that, rafes plan sets into motion.

he makes a stack of waffles, but not before turning on the coffee machine so you can wake up to a fresh brew. he makes a good portion of eggs for you to split before checking the clock, figuring it's about time to check to see if you're awake.

rafe pours your coffee in your favorite tumbler before adding ice and syrup, smiling at himself for remembering just how you like it.

rafe is about to head out of the kitchen when he hears your footsteps coming down the stairs.

“good morning ba-”

“oh my god, im so late for my nail appointment, why didn't you wake me up?” you squeal, grabbing your purse and adjusting the outfit you threw on quickly.

“i didn-”

“i got to leave, like right now, sorry babe.” you run up to rafe and press a quick kiss to his lips, about to rush away when you realize the two plates of breakfast.

“it's okay.” rafe shakes his head. “i'll make you breakfast a different day. forgot you had a nail appointment. but here-” rafe grabs the tumbler and thrusts it into your hand. “at least take the coffee i made you.”

rafe can see the conflicting emotions going on inside your head.

“hey.” he says softly. “it's okay. go. you and i both know how ridiculous those late fees are.”

“okay.” you nod, pouting and looking back at the plates as you leave.

act 2

“do you have any plans today?” rafe asks, brushing your hair away from your face.

“nope. just hanging with you.” you smile up at him, snuggling closer to his side, not yet ready to leave the bed when rafe is keeping you so warm, occasionally pressing kisses to your face.

“im gonna go take your car to get it serviced.” rafe says. “since you don't have anything going on.”

“oh.” you hum. “okay.” you were secretly hoping you could just have a lazy day in bed with rafe, maybe even force him to watch some trashy reality tv, knowing it'll only take a couple minutes for him to get fully invested in whatever drama starts up between the couples.

“you stay in bed though.” rafe smiles at you, sliding out from under the covers, leaving you to pull the blanket tighter around yourself and inhale his fleeting scent.

rafe heads down the stairs, a pep in his step at getting this task done for you. he grabs your keys before heading out the door, taking it to the service center first for an oil change. it's not very dirty on the inside, but rafe decides he'll still vacuum the inside after taking it through the wash.

you really only use your car when rafe is gone or you have an appointment, so it doesn't get used often.

rafe finishes everything he wants to get done for you, filling up your tank before driving back home.

rafe is whistling and happy as he returns home and heads back up the stairs, and just like he expects, you're still in bed, but sat up, watching the television.

“hey baby.” your smile widens as you see him. “i missed you so much.”

“sorry, doll.” rafe changes quickly before climbing into the bed. “but i got everything done on your car.”

“thanks.” you hum. “really appreciate it.” you press your face into his chest, throwing one leg over his hips as you return to a lying position, no longer caring about what's on the tv now that you've got your boyfriend back.

“you don't have anything else you wanna get done today, do you?” you ask. “i thought we'd have all day together.”

rafe sighs as he looks at the clock, realizing just how long it took him to service your vehicle. “well, we have the rest of the day at least.”

act 3

“um, rafe?” you call out as you open up a drawer in your closet, expecting to see the tangled mess of necklaces and earrings just as you left it.

“honey?” rafe walks into your bedroom before realizing you’re in the closet.

“where’d all my jewelry go?” you ask confused.

“oh, i organized it for you.” rafe moves to the drawers, sliding open the two underneath to reveal jewelry displays and every piece neatly put away. “i also got you a display for your favorite necklaces but i wanted you to choose what ones go up there.”

“where at?” you ask, noticing the necklace rafe got you for your first anniversary in missing from the drawer.

rafe doesn’t respond with his words, taking your hand and guiding you out of the closet and into the main bedroom, where you notice the necklace stand shaped like a tree with two chains already hanging from them.

“oh my gosh, whats this?” you squeal, pulling the new necklace off the stand, admiring the diamonds that glitter back at you in the shape of an r.

“for you, baby.” rafe kisses your cheek.

“what has gotten into you?” you ask, but before rafe can worry too much about you figuring out he’s following a guide on how to treat you better, you turn and pull your hair off your neck for him to slot the necklace on.

act 4 

“oh right there!” you moan out as rafe rubs at your back, hands smoothing up and down against your skin, gently kneading into your muscles as he does.

“love pampering you baby.” rafe leans down to press a kiss against your shoulder blade.

“you’re so sweet.” you smile and turn your head. “i’m gonna have to make it up to you.”

“you already treat me better than i deserve.”

you frown and turn over onto your stomach, bringing the blanket with you to keep your chest covered. “not true. you’re an amazing boyfriend.”

“thanks, doll.” rafe doesn’t want you to worry about his insecurities in this moment, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “stay there.”

you get comfortable on your back, eyes sliding shut as rafe starts some gentle music. it flows from the speakers as rafe hums along to the instrumental version of a popular song, grabbing your hairbrush from off the dresser.

you are only vaguely aware of rafes movements, when suddenly a hand is placed on the top of your head, massaging against your scalp that has you moaning out again.

you hear rafe chuckle at your reaction, the sides of your lips also quirking up, when you suddenly feel a hairbrush running through your strands.

you scrunch your face up and give it a moment, hoping rafe would stop when he suddenly brushes through a tangle, making you cry out.

“shit.” rafe drops the brush with a clatter onto the hardwood. “im sorry.”

you can hear the defeat in rafes voice and you turn over onto your stomach to face him, frowning. “baby? whats wrong?”

“i just can’t do anything right. i try to make you breakfast, you have to leave. i take your car to be serviced, and i miss out and spending time with you. i can’t even brush your hair all romantically like the guide said.”

“guide?” you question, grabbing your shirt and putting it back on as you pull rafe up to sit on the bed next to you.

“i… i read something online. about acts of service you can do for your partner. i just want to be a good boyfriend.”

you don’t mean to, but a laugh falls from your lips. “rafe, that’s ridiculous. you’re already the best boyfriend without even trying. did i say or do something to make you feel like you needed to try harder?”

“no-” rafe sighs, knowing he has to admit it. “i just heard you talking with your friend about love languages. i’m trying to make it up to you.”

“and the guide told you to brush my hair?” you scoff. “im guessing whoever wrote that did not have curls.”

“you're probably right.” rafe lets a smile come to his face.

“i love you for you, not because of the things you do for me. besides, you do enough without even trying or following some guide. you take out the trash, you stock up on my favorite treats, you get me anything i want whenever i feel the slightest bit ill.”

“so… you don’t want me to do the last thing on the guide?”

“depends what it is.” you shrug. “if it involves you leaving and doing something for me, then absolutely not. or at least you can take me with you.”

“i set up a romantic movie night in the living room.”

“that sounds much better for both of us than you brushing my hair.” you giggle.

act 5

you tuck yourself further into rafes side, smiling as your favorite scene finishes, turning your attention to rafe.

“thank you for doing all this for me.” you whisper, keeping your voice soft. “i love you so much.”

“i love you.” rafe says earnestly, ducking his head to press a kiss against the top of your head, but you’re quick to reposition so your lips can meet.

“now we have to figure out your love language so i can do things for you.” you tell rafe.

“my love language is you.” rafe says, squeezing you tightly. “my everything is you.”

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @cameronswiftie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0

[thesunloveschips]

Obsessed - Part 1 (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: In a world of boys, he’s an obsessed billionaire stalker. (Should I write a part 2?)

Warnings: stalker Azriel, lots of smutty fantasies, delusional reader.

Click here for Obsessed (Masterlist)

****

Azriel knew that he was one mad bastard. How else would he have killed his half-brothers, his sperm donor (he refused to refer to that fuckface as a father), and that bitch of a step-mother to take over the one of the largest conglomerates in the world?

He never lost sight of his goals. 

Revenge? Check.

Securing wealth and assets? Check.

Taking care of his mother? Check. 

He’d come a long way from being the illegitimate child tortured when his father and half-brothers had nothing else to do to leading the largest conglomerate in the country. 

He was tactical, ruthless, and currently madly obsessed with a woman dancing in the club like this was her moment.

From his perspective, this was the moment their lives would be irrevocably changed. 

She was like the flame of a candle with a warm glow he was now desperate to covet. She glowed only for those who observed, not for those who simply looked. 

And he was observing. Studying every inch of her like she was his personal research project. 

Her body moved way too mesmerisingly. His cock was aching now. That dress was so nicely fitted on her curves. Such a pretty dress. He noted the dress so that he could fuck her in it in the future in honour of the day their paths crossed. 

Her eyes were closed or half-open for a long time but they were now properly open. Round eyes took in her surroundings as she drew her friend closer with a hand on her waist and looked at another club goer who had invaded their space. The man apologised and moved away. 

While this woman was guarding her friend, said friend was glaring at a man behind her who was getting too close. The friend tapped the man over his woman’s shoulder and was probably screeching at him. 

When the man began frowning and saying something back that did not seem like an apology for invading personal space, Azriel stood up, buttoning his blazer, and walked over. 

The crowd was barely a bother as he immediately reached them. He glared at the man from behind his woman and her friend and the man turned away and quickly moved. 

She looked at her friend and then noticed him standing behind her. He bowed his head and fished out his phone. He quickly typed in his message and showed it to them.

I’ll ensure that he’s removed. Enjoy your night. 

He simply put his phone in his pocket and bowed his head once. Y/n said something that he couldn’t hear but from the way her lips moved, it was most likely a word of gratitude. He nodded and returned to his area on the floor above. He whispered his order to one of his bodyguards and the two women watched as the man was escorted out of the club. 

The women looked at each other and laughed. And then she gathered her hair behind her head and held it there for a few seconds. Probably to let it cool after all the sweat. 

Her neck looked like a canvas. 

His canvas. 

And he’d mark her soon.  

Once he was seated again, he received his iPad from one of his men with a report of his woman. 

Y/n. A very suitable name. He’d moan or groan that name every night. 

Aged twenty four. He was twenty eight. This could definitely work.

A few basic details about her family. Soon, his own name would be added in her biodata under the category of spouse. 

But then he caught sight of another picture with a name and the relation to her as her ex-boyfriend. 

He was now curious. 

Azriel looked at Y/n, happy and dancing with her friend and so beautiful, she made him feel something pleasant. Was this happiness?

And then he looked at his iPad and frowned. He looked at her and then at the iPad again. 

Why would someone so beautiful, perfect, wonderful, intelligent woman, ever date this. . . this. . . whatever this was? 

He sent the name of this ex-boyfriend to his contact for more information and then scrolled. 

Height, weight, medical history, social media, and. . . A notification popped up with the report on the ex-boyfriend. The more he read it, the more he frowned. 

Azriel looked up and found Y/n now joined by a few more people with whom she laughed and drank. She was so. . . he didn’t really know how to articulate his own feelings but even reading her biodata made him feel pleasant. He was calm. 

But then he looked at the report of her ex-boyfriend.

His woman probably had some vision problems because why would this magnificent woman ever date this rat?

The more he read about their connection, the more he felt the familiar black rage rising in his chest like a behemoth. 

So the lowlife had made her cry. Spoken nonsense about her. Spread rumours. And had made her feel like she was less than the woman she was. 

Oh. 

Oh.

Well, well, well. 

Somebody needs to drown in the sewer he originated from. 

He’d take care of that soon.

Y/n’s own report revealed that she was there in the club to celebrate the birthday of her best friend’s youngest sister. 

Her best friend seemed like a reasonable woman. Nesta Archeron, her childhood friend who was more of a sister and also, her dancing companion. He glossed over more details of Nesta and Y/n’s friendship and finally set the iPad next to him. 

Beautiful was probably an understatement to describe his woman. 

Now there were two new details regarding Y/n. 

She was his. 

And he was hers. 

****

Y/n had hauled her luggage out of the apartment and somehow reached the airport. She was anxious and excited for her new semester. Her last wild party was back when Feyre turned twenty one. She danced and drank and enjoyed every bit of it. 

And she had the salivating memory of the sexiest guy she’d ever met. 

Y/n had easily woken up around eight in the morning with no headaches. But a night with alcohol usually made her a little slow the next morning.

Nesta was also awake and they were brushing their teeth. Y/n spat the foam and then turned to her friend. “Remember the guy who just popped and ensured that the creep would be kicked out?”

Nesta hummed, looking as suspicious as she could with a toothbrush in her mouth and a layer of foam on her lips. 

“The ways. . . I would fuck him, Nes. He could ask me to kneel and I’d do that and thank him.”

Nesta spat some foam before speaking. “He was way too hot.”

“Hot is an understatement.” Y/n washed her mouth and then resumed. “He looked like a god.”

“Does he speak though?” Nesta splashed some water on her face before grabbing the bottle of face wash.

“Why is that relevant?” Y/n was already rubbing the face wash on her cheeks. 

“You want him to groan while he fucks you, right? You don’t want a saintly priest silent in the sheets.” Nesta had made a very valid point.

“I would not be opposed to a priest if they were that hot.” Y/n remembered that she’d seen an Instagram reel about a novel where a priest was. . . indulging. She hadn’t read the novel but the reel remained on her mind. 

“Yeah.” Nesta sighed. 

“He was probably an illusion.”

“What?” Nesta nearly shouted. 

“We were drunk and dancing and the lights were all bam! Could’ve hallucinated seeing a guy that hot since it’s been far too long since we got laid.” Y/n sighed.

“Railed. We deserve to be railed, not laid. Laid is for the romantic sweethearts who dream of fluffy blankets and cupcakes. Railed is for people like us.” Nesta was a strong advocate of getting railed and right now, Y/n really wanted to get railed. 

“When you go for that semester exchange.” Nesta began seriously. “And see if there are hot guys there. If you do find them, make sure he has a hot brother or a hot best friend.” This was a mandate. 

“Yes, ma’am." This was what happened when two girl best friends were delusional after reading so many smutty romances.

A man who looked like he’d fuck the life out of her. Y/n always thought those were only fictional men like Dante Russo, Aiden King, or Zade Meadows.

But there he was. She'd met such a man.

And no, Y/n wasn't blessed with the good fortune of being railed by that man whose sex appeal was so high she was beginning to ache by just remembering him.

She knew exactly what all she wanted. 

She wanted to be taken against a wall. To be eaten out. To have her head pushed onto the bed while being fucked from behind. 

She wanted it rough.

To be handled.

And when she was satisfied just enough to make up for months of not having sex, she'd take charge. She’d ride that man so well. 

A sudden impact reminded her that she was still standing in the middle of the airport with her luggage, waiting for an early morning flight, on an empty stomach, simply fantasising about getting so gloriously fucked by the man with whom she’d just collided. . . what?

Y/n looked around and realised that she’d collided into someone who immediately grabbed her to save her from a fall. She also realised that this was a man. A very familiar man from the club. The one she’d been fantasising about. 

With the amount of dirty thoughts that kept popping up, Y/n was sure that an exorcist would fail to get rid of the lust within her. 

In better lighting, Y/n took in his tan skin, thick eyebrows, that huge body, curly black hair, and his powerful gaze.  

This was it.

This was the face. 

This was the face. 

The one that she wanted between her legs.

She’d spread nice and wide for this man. 

“Excuse me? Are you all right?” His voice. His voice! Oh, this deep voice. Perfect. 

The thought of him groaning her name made her stomach tighten. 

Oh gods, she hadn’t had sex in so long and now an insanely attractive man was simply helping her and she was ready to fuck him right there in the middle of the airport. 

“I’m fine.” Y/n responded. “Have we met before?” She definitely sounded desperate. Y/n was ready to be hit by a plane like the pigeons in those old cartoon shows who’d crash into the window of a plane and make a funny face.  

“Yes.” He did not smile but his features definitely softened. The intensity in his gaze turned into something beautiful. “I hope you didn’t have any trouble after that man.”

“No.” She responded, a little shy. “We were fine. We enjoyed the night. Thank you for interfering.” 

****

Azriel had tracked the flight in which she would be travelling for her exchange program and booked himself a ticket. That was seven days after he’d laid eyes on her for the first time. 

Among the many things that he’d discovered about his woman during those seven days, there was nothing that explained why she was standing in the middle of the airport, dazed as if she’d seen something mesmerising. 

Under the airport lighting, he saw her. He’d reached the airport long before she did and had been standing near the row of counters which were catering to the airline they would soon be flying in. 

Azriel saw this woman walk over to the queue. She yawned and looked around. She wore her earphones and looked and smiled like she was stopping herself from laughing. 

He’d noticed that she had long hair but under better lighting, she was her curly hair and how long it was. It seemed like she’d taken good care of her hair.

That was good. 

Hair was very important. And her hair was thick and long. 

He pictured her hair wrapped around his fist while she sucked his cock. He would be sitting and she would be on her knees. 

Another image appeared with her straddling him as he sucked her breast while she rode him. A masterpiece. 

Y/n laughed a little at something else on her phone. 

It was her turn and she submitted her documents, checked in that humongous suitcase that he’d be helping her with once they landed, and received her boarding pass. 

After a while of heading towards the food court, she stopped in the middle of the airport, eyes on some decoration that was not as fascinating as her attention on it made it out to be. 

What was she thinking?

Azriel didn’t like this. 

He hadn’t seen her for seven days and now, she was not even paying him any attention. 

So he decided to take matters into his own hands and pretended to look at his phone as he ‘accidentally’ collided onto her. 

She’d recognised him. 

His woman remembered him.

He was definitely satisfied. Or not. 

Azriel just realised that he hadn’t orchestrated the collision in a manner that would allow her breasts to come in contact with his arm or chest for a second. 

A missed opportunity. 

What a sad life.

“My name is Azriel.” He extended a hand. She took it and shook his hand. Soon, it’d be his cock. Those nails would dig into his arms and back when he fucked her. Patience.  

Azriel was dressed in all black. High neck, trousers, and a blazer he held on his arm which was strategically placed in front of him so as to conceal the crotch area just in case he was aroused. He was. 

“I’m Y/n.” And then she covered her mouth as a yawn escaped her. “I’m sorry. Early morning flights are always tiring.” 

Baby curls were right beneath her ears and she gave him a sleepy smile. And for the first time, he understood how influential Y/n was. Because if he were to see that face first thing in the morning, he’d never leave his bed.

The morning sex would be so glorious. He could wake her up by eating that pussy. Her legs would be trembling on his shoulders while he feasted on her. 

“I understand.” He replied. “A good breakfast helps.”

“Haven’t had any.” She lifted a hand and waved it once. Of course, he knew she hadn’t had breakfast. His men who’d watched her apartment from the one across the street had reported no activity in her kitchen. 

“Do you have some time before boarding? We could have breakfast together.” Okay, now he was just desperate. This was embarrassing. But he wanted to spend time with her. 

“Boarding starts at five twenty. We have. .” She looked at her watch. “Lots of time. Where do you want to eat?” She looked up at him, those eyes eager. 

Azriel looked around. The washrooms came into his view. Since the cleaning staff were not here this early, he easily had fifteen to twenty minutes to eat her. The fire exit was another option. There were a few blindspots there. Or maybe underneath the escalator? 

“That place has some good coffee and spaghetti.” 

Coffee? Spaghetti? Azriel blinked at her and then looked at the places Y/n was pointing at. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

 She was talking about food. 

All right. 

Food. 

“Sure.” He looked at her. She looked a little happier at his agreement. “Shall we?” 

Y/n eagerly nodded and they headed over to that food outlet. 

A nice breakfast included some coffee Azriel’s soul needed, spaghetti, and a very happy albeit sleepy Y/n telling him about her masters program. Details he’d already known but was pleased to hear from her. He would hear more of her voice and understand more about her feelings regarding what was happening in her life. 

“What about you? You don’t look like a student.”

“Correct. I work at Umbra.” He didn’t add that he was the chairman and the controlling shareholder but that was fine. “I’m on a business trip.”

“Oh.” Her mood deflated. 

“What happened?” Umbra was a big name. Wasn’t working there something to show that he was financially secure and didn’t have any debts thereby bringing him closer to the future of being her husband? Wasn’t that enough to convince her that he had enough money so that she wouldn’t have to worry? 

He’d known enough about how Y/n wanted a library of her own in her own home. Sure, the penthouse in the city was not purchased with her in mind but he’d already cleared out a room to be used as a library. 

And the flat he’d purchased in the city they’d be flying to also had a room ready to be her library. He’d give her his card so that she could decorate it to her heart’s content. 

“Nothing.” She looked up at him wide eyed. 

“It’s not nothing.”  He pressed gentler than he’d ever been.

“Well, I really don’t know what career I want to move ahead in.” 

Oh. That was a genuine concern. Of course, he had the money in case Y/n never wanted to work. Or if she wanted to take a break before she started working. 

So they talked. They talked about her field which he had learned as much as he could in seven days and had a discussion that lifted her spirits. But Azriel knew it wouldn't take long before she fretted over it again. 

At least Y/n didn’t have to worry about being alone in that huge pit of despair over careers and futures. He’d be there to support her in any way she needed. 

“I’ll be off to the washroom, hm? Give me a few minutes.” Y/n stood up and walked away with her phone. The rest of her luggage was still at the table with Azriel. 

How nice it was to be trusted with her luggage. All after meeting her for the second time and conversing with her properly only once. 

He frowned. Was Y/n always this easily trusting? This could be dangerous. He should assign someone to follow her so that even if she trusts someone else like this, she wouldn’t be robbed. 

Azriel, having resolved that this was the only woman he’d ever marry and have any kids with, smiled faintly when she returned from the washroom. And the two of them headed over to the boarding gates.

[rememberwren]

Practice

About this: certified drabble gone out of hand. best friend!Kyle Gaz Garrick/fem!reader. PIV, fingering, oral (fem receiving). King of your firsts, you ask your best friend Kyle to take your virginity.

Part 1 here.

-

“Kyle?”

“Hm?” 

“Can I talk to you about something?” 

He sucks in a breath, like you’ve asked for something painful. “No can do, honey pie. I’m just here to sit in silence.”

You roll your eyes, though his joke breaks through the ice of your nerves and melts that anxious, frozen part inside you. Kyle’s good at that—putting you at ease. He does it in such easy, flippant ways that you aren’t even sure if it’s being done intentionally. Just another excuse added to the grocery-list-length of reasons why you’re here now, asking him for this. 

“If I had a favor…a big one. Would you do it?” 

He grins, a flash of pale, straight teeth. “That’s totally dependent on the favor. Does it involve burying a body?” 

“No.”

“—because my answer is yes—“

“Would you have sex with me? For my first time.” The mirthful expression drops from his face, all teasing fading away. He turns to you—literally angles his body toward you—to give you his full attention. You do your best to meet his eyes. See, you can make eye contact too. You’re to be taken seriously.  

He blinks placidly and asks: “Why me?” 

“We’ve practiced stuff before,” you begin to recite, though that grocery list of reasons why Kyle would make the perfect party in your brain has suddenly gone frustratingly fuzzy. “You make me feel safe, and I’m—like, really attracted to you.”

His mouth wobbles, threatening to grin. “Yeah?” he asks, playing at unaffected. He runs a hand over his shorn hair and answers for himself: “Yeah.” 

“Kyle. Focus.”

“Okay, okay, how’s this for focus: all those things you just said? Those are things you’ll probably feel for someone in the future. A partner. Somebody you really want to give yourself to. So why do it now with me? Why not wait for it to be real?” he asks. 

It’s…it’s a good question. With a really good answer. But telling Kyle that this is real for you? That’s not an option. So ignoring the obvious, what’s another good reason you could possibly have for not wanting to wait for Mx. Right?  

Kyle’s waiting, watching, brows raised in an smug expression that says, See. I’ve just talked you down from a dangerous ledge. You’re welcome, when you finally settle on the only excuse you can think of.

“Because,” you say, “I wanna feel good now.” 

-

He can get behind that. He can get underneath it, on top of it. Anywhere it wants him—Kyle can get there. Because you deserve to feel good, and there’s nobody in this godforsaken world who deserves to be making you feel good, but Kyle comes close. You chose him, after all, and he thinks that must stand for something. 

He sinks into the mindset the way other men must slip into well-fitting suits; this is tailor-made for him. He’ll give you the princess treatment: dinner, back to his place for wine, then he’ll sip the taste of it off of your tongue and—

At the first sign of his acquiescence, you whip your shirt off over your head and his brain blue screens. 

“Whoa,” he says. He gives himself a solid moment to eat you up with his eyes: your soft curves, your dimples, the bra you’ve chosen with the lacy edges—god, did you somehow know that he’s a sucker for lace? After the moment ends he contents himself to going hungry, scoops up your shirt and hands it back to you. “I didn’t mean now.” 

You frown, pressing your shirt to your chest to protect your modesty. “When, then?” 

“When I have the chance to treat you right,” says Kyle, laying a hand on your thigh, smoothing his thumb along the curve of your knee. “To take you out first. Dress up. Light some scented candles, I don’t know—“

“That sounds like it will take forever,” you grumble. “Can’t we fast forward? Give me a sec.”

Brushing his hand away, you disappear into your bedroom and then the light to the en suite bathroom clicks on. You leave your shirt behind. Kyle’s fingers are drawn to it, feeling the warmth from where it pressed against your skin. He wonders if it smells like you, but Jesus he’s not going to sniff your fucking shirt. He’s not that desperate—

God, it smells good. 

You reappear just a split second after he tosses your shirt back into its place on the sofa, and you set your boon down on the coffee table. It’s a scented candle, blueberry, half burned off. You flick the sparkwheel of the lighter in your hand and tip the candle dangerously sideways to light it. 

“There!” you say cheerfully. “Candles. All my dreams are suddenly coming true.”

“You are a cheeky little brat. You want in my pants that bad?” he asks, just to watch the way your mouth drops, words turning into stuttered syllables. He laughs and pats his lap. “C’mere.” 

You go, kneeling over him. His hips are slim, but it’s still a stretch for you, his hands finding your waist and helping to keep you steady, thumbs smoothing against the bare skin of your belly. He draws you against him in a hug, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. His hands run up and down the length of your back, soft and slow, drawing shivers from you. 

“What’re you so eager for, hm?” Kyle wonders. On his lap like this, arms looped around his neck, you have a small height advantage. He pulls back to look up at you, eyes tracing over your nose down to your mouth and back up again, memorizing your features in the dim lamplight. “Don’t even know what you’re missing, do you?” 

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” you murmur, playing with the collar of his shirt. It tickles, but he doesn’t laugh. “Virginity is an outdated concept anyway.” 

“You want it?” 

Your brows raise. “Yes?” 

He’s a bastard for saying: “Don’t sound too sure to me.” 

“I want it, Kyle. Come on, don’t tease me.” 

“Hey—if we do this, you’re in charge,” he tells you, finally relenting against his body’s fervent desire to see his cock harden. You shift on his lap and he has to pause speaking, hands flexing against you. “Whatever you say goes. Whenever you want to stop, we stop. Alright?” 

“Sounds like a lot of responsibility.”. 

“Tough,” he says. “Those are the rules, honey pie. Take it or leave it.” 

“Can I make my first rule?” 

“I’m all ears.” 

You clear your throat and mutter into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, “Kyle, I want you to be in charge.” 

Kyle’s breath leaves him in a rush. He’s a bad man. He must be, for getting so drunk off of those words. For wanting so badly to be in charge of you and your pretty body, for finding your overwhelming trust in him absolutely heady.

He leans up and kisses you. It’s not the first time you’ve ever kissed, but it’s easily the best. You take it to a hungry place and he doesn’t even attempt to rein you in, just sighs into your mouth and sucks on your tongue, your kisses turning into a heated give-and-take that reminds him of ocean waves he wants to be swept away in. 

You settle more firmly in his lap, fingers stroking up through his shaved hair. Your nails against his scalp makes him groan. The two of you kiss until your mouths are numb, until you have devolved into little thrusts against him, seeking friction. 

When you seem well and truly desperate, Kyle slips his hands up from your hips to cup your breasts, thumbs tracing your skin above the cups of your bra. 

“Take it off,” you gasp against his mouth. “Please Kyle, take it off—“ 

“Pretty pushy for the girl who isn’t in charge anymore.” 

“Kyle!” 

“Alright, alright,” he says, hands tracing around your ribs to the clasp at the back. He undoes it on the first try and mutters under his breath: “Score.” 

“What?” you pant, slipping your arms from the straps. The bra comes off, and tumbles from the couch to the floor, but neither of you pay it any mind. 

Kyle can’t speak. He’s never seen you here before, miles of new flesh on display. Your nipples pucker in the cool air under his stare, and he reaches out to rub the pad of his thumb over one, watching you shudder. When he cups your breasts in his palms he can’t help but think how well they fit in his hands, how every part of you seems molded for him. He’s not going to be able to let you go after this. It’s like being behind the wheel skidding on black ice. He sees the collision course he is on, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it. 

“Are you sensitive here?” he asks, thumbing at the hard peak of one breast. 

“Isn’t everyone?” you breathe.  

“No,” says Kyle with a warm laugh. He pinches you softly, attuned to the breath you suck in and the way your body trembles. You are a sensitive little thing, untouched by other hands, and fuck, Kyle’s never had a thing for virgins but he’s got a thing for you, and it threatens to destroy him. 

“Gonna ruin you,” he says, leaning in to nuzzle at the hammering pulse in your throat. He opens his mouth and scrapes his teeth over your collarbone just to hear the way you squeak.  

“Do it,” you whisper, hips grinding down against the hard line of his clothed erection. “Come on, Kyle, you’re all talk—“ 

“Me—?”

“—said I wanted to feel good,” you say. “Why am I still waiting?” 

Well. It’s logic he can’t argue with. 

He urges you off of his lap. “Bedroom.” 

“Alright,” you laugh. 

Just after you stand on shaking legs, Kyle adds: “Race ya.” 

-

Kyle launches himself over the back of the couch in a move that would not look nearly so smooth if you tried, socked-feet slipping on the hardwood as he races toward the bedroom. 

“Kyle, you cheater!” you howl, rushing after him.

“Blow out that candle, it’s a fire hazard!” he shouts behind him, sending you whirling back to the coffee table to huff a breath against the flame. 

By the time you make it into the bedroom, he’s reclined on your bed, ankles crossed, hat resting over his face like he is taking a restful nap. You’d believe it if it weren’t for the erection tenting his jeans. 

“If you’re tired, I can leave you to nap,” you snark, feigning for the door. 

Kyle whips his hat off of his head and tosses it like a frisbee with frightening dexterity. The hard brim clatters against your knuckles and makes you gasp, clutching them against your chest as you stare at him in shock. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Kyle says. He sheds his shirt in that slick little maneuver men have mastered, gripping the back collar and tugging it up and over his head. It reveals a length of dark, soft skin stretched taut over muscle that has your mouth watering. You’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times—God, you’ve seen him naked, really, though not all at once—but it never stops having such a heated effect on you. He kneels up and comes to the edge of the bed, sitting on the side, reaching out one hand for you, palm soft and facing up. “C’mere.”

You go to him, taking his hands and lacing your fingers together. He strokes his thumb against yours. 

“You wanna finish undressing me?” he asks. 

“Do you want me to finish undressing you?” 

Kyle stares. Then a slow smile spreads across his face. He gets it; he always does. Standing up, he guides your hand to rest flat against his abs, drawing it downward toward his belt buckle. He says: “Undress me, then.”

Your hands shake as you unfasten his belt. You don’t bother slipping it free of the loops, just let it dangle open while unfastening his jeans. His erection makes that a little more difficult than it might have been otherwise, and every time your knuckles brush against him, he gives little sighs that go straight to your head. 

He’s not wearing any underwear. 

“Gaz you devil.” 

“That’s me,” he says with a warm smile. His fingers find the waistband of your leggings, and it’s his turn to draw them down your legs and let you brace yourself on his broad shoulders while he helps you out of them. With any other man you might have been shy, but there’s no room for it with Gaz. The way he looks at you takes up all that space in your brain for anxiety. He looks at you like he’s seeing artwork, like he wants to pin you to the wall and stare at you for the rest of his life. 

“Bed time,” he says, coaxing you down onto the soft duvet. You shift to scoot back but his hands grip your thighs, fingers denting the soft flesh as he tugs you back toward the edge of the bed in a show of strength that has your heart hammering. He kneels and spreads your thighs. Then he shuts his eyes, muttering under his breath. 

You lean up onto your elbows. “What is it?” 

His eyes flicker open. “In my house we pray before we eat, thank you.” 

“Kyle!”

He’s still laughing when his mouth presses against you. You slip off of your elbows and onto your back, both hands clasped over your eyes as he licks a broad stripe over your folds. Gaz eats pussy with remarkable tenderness, no hint of teeth, all tongue and soft kisses. He lets you hide your face and muffle your noises but draws the line when you try to close your legs with his head still between them. Winding his arms up over your thighs, he pins them open to the bed with his forearms, hands framing your cunt nicely. His thumbs slip in your own arousal when he tries to spread your folds too, and in the end he gives up, burying his face deeper into you to tongue at your entrance. 

He draws back for breath at one point, his pretty jaw smeared with your slick. He sounds winded when he asks: “What do you think, honey? Can you cum like this?” 

You continue covering your eyes with one hand, but the other reaches down to grip at his short hair and guide his mouth back to your clit. He chuckles against you but takes the hint, lapping the flat of his tongue at that aching epicenter of nerves, taking it into his mouth and suckling with sweetness. 

You’re climbing that first peak when he carefully slips his first finger inside you, giving you just enough to whet your appetite. You hadn’t realized how badly you craved something inside you until you had that slender finger to grip, but now you want more. 

“Another, Kyle, please,” you ask. 

He groans, mouth full of you, and shifts on his knees. Pulling back, he guides two fingers into you, easy as anything. “I love your manners. You’re so fucking good, you know that? So good.” 

He stops talking before he can make you uncomfortable—knows the way your chest feels fileted open with any kind of praise or compliment—and gets back to his important work. With his fingers gently working you open and his mouth on your clit, it takes hardly any time for the pleasure to crest, the muscles in your belly tensing as your pleasure draws tight and then snaps clean in two. Your toes curl, groan bitten off as you clamp your mouth shut, pussy spasming around his fingers. He works you through it, dark eyes shut like he’s savoring the taste of you. 

“Can you take more?” he asks, mouth wet, lips swollen. 

Your head bobs in a nod, throat dry from all the sounds you’ve been making. Kyle’s grin is beatific, and he leans down to kiss your closest thigh while he works a third finger into you. This one gives you a pleasant stretch, but there is no pain; you are plenty wet and relaxed. 

“You want me to use a condom?” he asks, smoothing his free hand over your belly to watch the muscles jump and twitch at his soft touch. “You been taking your pill everyday?” 

You roll your eyes. “Jesus, yes, Kyle I’ve been taking my birth control. Do you—?”

“Nope,” he says, shaking his head. “This one’s on you. Condom or no condom.” 

“Could we—without?” 

“We could,” he teases with a smile. He stands, fingers slipping free from inside you. It leaves you feeling empty, aching. 

You hope that he’ll make you cum again. 

Leaning over you, he plants a hand on either side of you and kisses you, still tasting faintly of where his mouth has been. You loop you arms around his neck, pulling him down until he rests his weight against you, chest-to-chest, your legs hooked around his waist. When he pulls back, it’s just to encourage you higher up onto the mattress so he can follow, finding his home once again in the hollow of your thighs. He says: “Let me know if anything hurts, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, looking up at him. Suddenly it doesn’t feel like there’s enough breath in your lungs. You feel starstruck by him, by the look of concentration on his face as he angles his hips until his tip brushes against your folds. Slowly, he slips inside you, and it’s a fullness you’ve never known from your own fingers or even his. Your eyes fall shut, but your mouth can’t help smiling, beaming practically. 

“Yeah?” Kyle laughs breathlessly. “That good already?” 

You get the giggles. 

“Not the best time to laugh at a man, you might give him a complex,” Kyle says, grinning. 

“All men deserve complexes.” 

“Except for me.” 

“Sure.” 

He sinks in, deeper, deeper until there’s nowhere left for him to go. His forehead brushes against your own, and your eyes open to find his own closed, mouth parted as he pants softly, looking almost as wrecked as you feel. He opens his eyes and catches you looking, but instead of calling you out, he just cocks his head, giving one of his pretty, closed-lip smiles. 

He sets a slow rhythm to start with, and it’s not enough. Your ankles lock around his back, urging him on, fingers scrambling for purchase against the smooth skin of his shoulders. Every thrust drags against the wet, swollen walls of your cunt, and at the apex his pubic bone meets your clit in a touch that’s nearly soft as a kiss. 

“Is it good for you?” you wonder, taking note of his uncharacteristic silence. 

He drops his head to rest in the dark juncture between your neck and shoulder, kissing you there. “Best it’s ever been,” he admits with a little laugh. “Your pussy is perfect. I’m trying not to cum and end things early.” 

You groan. Something about that knowledge makes the heat in your belly rise up to a boil. You clench around him on instinct, and he hisses a breath against your neck, then teases the spot with his teeth. When he’s drawn blood to the surface of your skin, he leans up onto his elbows to admire his work. His mouth is swollen, but he looks unquestionably pleased with himself.  

For a while the two of you continue on like that: his lazy thrusts and mouth leaving bruises on your neck. Bracing himself on one elbow, he takes your hand and kisses your fingertips before guiding it down between you both toward your pussy. 

“Make yourself feel good,” he says. “You probably can’t cum just from this.” 

Your body agrees. He felt good inside you, but it isn’t until you touch your clit that you feel the first tendrils of that addictive heat in your belly. You chase it immediately, eyes falling shut as your fingers work faster. It’s different with him inside you—like there’s no room for the pleasure to fizzle out and die the way it sometimes does at your own touch. Instead he drives you higher, especially as his tight-knit control wavers and his hips drive into you with more force. 

You forget to tell him when you’re close. It creeps up on you, really. All at once your muscles seize, everything focused on that narrow place between your legs and the epicenter of an orgasm that has your back arching until your breasts press flush against his chest. (You hear him suck in a breath like you’ve stabbed him, his voice shaky when he asks: “Are you cumming?” but there’s no breath to answer him with.) There’s no more room for your hand to work but Kyle’s thrusts drag you through the aftershocks. It seems to go on forever, your sounds embarrassing but your brain wiped clean of embarrassment. 

“I’m not pulling out unless you tell me to,” he says once your ears have stopped ringing. He sounds strained, his chest brushing against your nipples with every shallow pant. “So jot that down.” 

“Don’t want you to,” you admit, boneless. “I want to know what it feels like when you cum inside me.” 

Kyle moans quietly. His head drops, forehead resting against your own as his thrusts grow hectic. He mutters the quietest fuck in your ear when he cums, filling you with a rush of wet warmth that turns the sounds of his cock slick and lewd as he works himself through it with your pussy. 

When he pulls out, it’s jarring. You feel so empty. He kneels back on his heels and spreads your thighs to watch his own spend leak from your entrance and says it again, that quiet little fuck that makes you feel invincible. 

Collapsing on the bed beside you, he finds your mouth, cradling your head in one of his hands, turning you to angle your mouth just right for his tongue. 

“You were perfect,” he says when he breaks the kiss. His knuckles skim your cheekbone. “Thank you. For choosing me.” 

You nod, throat suddenly tight. It’s over now, time to return to reality. Except you don’t want it to be over. You don’t want a reality without Kyle by your side or in your bed. How did you think that this would be a good idea? How did you think you could be so intimate with him and just let him go? Stupidly your eyes burn, and he must see something on your face because he rushes to assure you: “Hey, we’re okay. Nothing’s different now, yeah?” 

Yeah, you think dully. That’s the problem. 

[capquinn]

Twenty-five | Q. Hughes

summary: celebrating the birthday boy pairing: reader x quinn hughes content: fluff word count: 1.5k ↪masterlist

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It’s Quinn’s birthday, a milestone that feels both big and small at once. He’s twenty-five today, and while that number doesn’t carry the weight of a major life milestone, it still feels significant — halfway to thirty, a solid mark of adulthood. You’d planned a quiet evening to celebrate, something intimate and close to home. Quinn is quietly disappointed that his brothers couldn’t make it this year, both tied up with their own schedules, but having his parents here makes up for it. It’s just the four of you, gathered together in the cozy warmth of the apartment, and while it’s not the whole family, it still feels special — exactly the kind of celebration he needs.

You had spent the day preparing a homemade dinner, and you’d practically banished him from the kitchen, determined to make it a surprise. The kitchen had been your domain as you chopped vegetables, seasoned meat, and stirred sauces, with Quinn sneaking in every so often, leaning against the counter, stealing bites of food before you could swat his hand away. You had shooed him back into the living room more than once, reminding him that it was his birthday and he was supposed to relax. Not that he listened.

Now, as you all sit together around the small dining table in his apartment, the glow from a few candles casts a soft light across the room. There’s a warmth in the air, a kind of contentment that comes from being surrounded by people who know him well, who love him unconditionally.

Jim is laughing at something you said, Ellen chuckling beside him as she rests her hand on his. Quinn leans back in his chair, watching the interaction with a soft smile, a touch of shyness in his eyes as his parents begin sharing stories from his childhood. Tales that paint him in a more vulnerable light — like how he insisted on sleeping with a nightlight until he was almost ten. He’s trying to play it cool, but you can tell he’s both endeared and slightly embarrassed, glancing at you now and then to gauge your reaction.

“Remember when you were five?” Ellen asks, a playful glint in her eye as she focuses on Quinn. “You insisted on a hockey-themed birthday cake, but you hated the taste of the frosting.”

“Oh, come on, mom,” he groans, ducking his head with a laugh. 

You grin, leaning forward to catch his eye. “Wait, so you asked for a cake you didn’t even want to eat?”

“He just wanted to see the players on the cake,” Jim interjects, shaking his head. “But the second he had a taste, he decided the whole thing wasn’t for him. I think we ended up eating half of it ourselves.”

Ellen winks at you, then nods subtly toward the kitchen, signalling it’s time for the final surprise. You give her a quick smile, and together, you rise from the table, Quinn’s curious gaze following you as you disappear into the kitchen. 

The cake is waiting, just as you’d left it: chocolate with a glossy layer of frosting spread just a bit unevenly across the top. Strands of icing form the words "Happy Quarter of a Century, Quinn” in a looping script that you painstakingly wrote out, and the letters tilt a little at the end. The centrepiece is a dorky “25” candle, its red and white wax standing proudly amidst a scattering of chocolate shavings and sprinkles that you and Ellen had added for good measure. The whole thing looks as much a labour of love, with little imperfections here and there, but it’s endearing, perfectly imperfect — and so very him. 

As you approach the dining table, Ellen flicks off the lights, and together you break into song. Quinn glances up, caught mid-laugh at something his dad said, but his words fall away as he takes in the sight of the cake. His face lights up with surprise and a touch of embarrassment, and he ducks his head with a grin, trying to play it cool even as his cheeks flush in the warm candlelight. 

As you set the cake down in front of him, Quinn’s eyes flicker to the stringy icing and he chuckles, reaching out to wrap an arm around your waist, tugging you into his lap. You let out a surprised laugh, instinctively wrapping an arm around his shoulders as you settle in.

“Quarter of a century, huh?” he murmurs, leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Makes me sound older than I am.”

You playfully roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “Please, you’re barely mid-twenties. No sympathy from me.”

He grins, his hand resting comfortably on your waist as you both lean into each other. Then, you join in with Ellen and Jim’s singing, your voices mingle in a warm, off-key harmony.

For a second, Quinn is not quite sure what to do with himself. He's used to being in the spotlight, but this feels different — more intense, almost overwhelming. It’s not the roaring crowd at the rink or the flashing cameras; it’s the quiet attention of just a few people, the ones he loves most, their eyes on him with warmth and pride. He shifts a little in his seat, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans his forehead against your shoulder, hiding his blushing cheeks out of view.

“Oh, come on, birthday boy, don’t hide,” you tease. You rest your hand on the back of his neck, fingers brushing through the soft hair there, silently telling him that he’s not alone in this. He laughs, his breath warm against your skin, and you can feel the rumble of it in his chest. 

He shifts, glancing up at you with a sheepish grin, his cheeks pink in the candlelight, but the look in his eyes is full of affection. “You didn’t have to go all out,” he murmurs, though the smile he’s trying to suppress gives him away. His hand is firm at your waist, holding you close, and you can feel the steadiness of his heartbeat as you both sway a little to the rhythm of the song.

“Yes, I did,” you reply softly, your eyes meeting his, and the warmth in your voice makes his smile grow wider. It’s sweet and quiet between you, the room filled with the gentle hum of the birthday song, but all you can focus on is the way he’s looking at you.

Ellen’s voice is quiet as she finishes the final note. She claps, and then softly says, “make a wish, sweetheart.”

She steps back, giving you both a knowing smile as she takes her seat beside Jim, the two of them watching with that quiet joy only parents seem to have.

“Alright, alright,” he says, straightening up, and you can feel his fingers tighten on your hip as he closes his eyes, pretending to be lost in thought. You can’t help but laugh, and he nudges you with his shoulder, both of you sharing a private smile as he finally leans forward to blow out the candle.

The flame flickers once, then vanishes, leaving only the faint tendrils of smoke curling up from the “25” candle. 

Quinn turns his face to yours, and in the dim light, you can see the soft flush of pink deepening on his cheeks, the happiness in his eyes as he pulls you in a little closer. You’re both still giggling, the joy of the moment filling the space between you.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his lips pressing gently against your cheek, lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary. It’s a gentle touch, barely there, but the warmth of it spreads through you, making your heart swell. You can feel the soft flutter of his breath against your skin, and for a second, everything else fades away.

You loop your arms around his neck, pulling him in a little closer, your cheek resting against the side of his head. It's fleeting but the moment stretches on between you, lingering in the soft space between breaths. His arms around you, your fingers twisting through the ends of his hair — it feels as if you have all the time in the world, wrapped up in each other, letting the rest of the world spin on without you.

From across the table, Jim clears his throat with a teasing grin. “Alright, lovebirds, are we ever getting to that cake, or is it just for show?”

Jim's words break the spell, his teasing grin making you laugh as you glance up. Ellen gives him a nudge, but she’s smiling too, clearly enjoying the moment just as much.

Quinn gives a little chuckle, shaking his head as he glances at his parents with that familiar mix of affection and playful exasperation.

Reluctantly, you pull back, reaching for the knife, and as you do, Quinn’s hand slides up your back to lay at rest between your shoulders. You cut into the cake, the knife slicing through layers of rich chocolate, and as you pass the first piece to Jim, Quinn leans in close again, resting his chin on your shoulder with a contented sigh.

In that moment, surrounded by his parents’ laughter, with Quinn’s arm wrapped around you, it feels as if time itself has paused. You share a quick glance, and the unspoken connection between you is a quiet certainty. Of knowing that these are the moments you’ll cherish — today, tomorrow, and for every birthday still to come.

[nekomamiiz]

third time's a charm

kuroo x fem!reader

wc: 4k

warnings: 18+, post time-skip!kuroo, husband!kuroo, various pet names in place of y/n, domestic vibes, mentions of ovulation and pregnancy, masturbation (f), some spit, oral (f receiving), lots of teasing, soft dom kuroo, some nipple play, heavy breeding, impreg, multiple orgasms/creampies... it gets really wet, hot and messy, cockwarming, my extremely poor writing skills!

a/n: weeeee i'm out of hiatus.. sort of... this is just a lil something i was messing with before my break. finally after 2 years i finished it lol. anyway,, this is pure smut like barely any plot besides kuroo putting a baby in you and extremly self-indulgent but i hope yall enjoy it!! big thank you to @retrofang for beta reading some of this bad boy and the entire server for putting up with me heheh! likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated. thank you for reading <3 kiss kiss

banner and dividers by @/cafekitsune

After months of carefully calculating, tracking, and monitoring your cycle, the time has finally arrived.

Ovulation week.

You quickly text your husband when you receive the notification on your app. The little chime went off before you left the house for work. It must really be perfect timing, and he immediately replied. 

Tetsurou <3 — I’m on my way back home. Don’t leave yet and call out for today.

— Actually, go ahead and put in your vacation request now. I’ll be there soon. 

Your reply was a simple heart emoji. You’d get yourself relaxed and ready while you wait for him. 

There wasn’t much to do. You had already showered this morning and made the bed before ‘leaving’ for work. As soon as Kuroo sent that text, you put your comfortable house clothes on and lit a few candles around the bedroom. The only thing left to do now is prepare yourself. 

So, that’s what you did. 

About half an hour later, Tetsurou walks through the front door of your home. He slips his shoes off, then his coat and that’s when he hears it—a soft and needy whimper of his name. 

As he pushes through your bedroom door, his eyes find your body already glowing with a sheen of sweat and so beautifully spread out on the edge of the bed. He licks his lips at the sound of your cute little moans and the slight squelch of your pussy. 

It all sounds so wet. 

You have two fingers inside yourself, stretching and stroking the walls of your perfect cunt, offering Kuroo the perfect view. His breath hitches at the sound of your moans becoming louder now that your eyes are solely on him, and his mere presence is enough to make your body shiver with desperation.

“Tetsurou,” you whine his name as your fingers pick up their pace in stimulating your sensitive pussy. Now leaking with a desire to have him buried inside you. 

Kuroo’s eyes trail down your body. He watches closely at how your chest heaves, how you twist your wrist so your fingers can reach the right spot inside, and how you whimper when you can barely get there. You’re putting on a show just for him, and he eats up every second of it. 

“Fuck, baby. Look at you,” he quietly groans at the lewd sight presented to him. 

He’s already palming himself through his slacks, using his other hand to remove the buttons of his shirt. He’s not in any rush, simply relishing the sight of you building yourself up to release, but you both know it’s not enough. The way you writhe and squirm on your shared bed has his body temperature rising, and he can see your want for him dripping out and onto the sheets below you, making such a pretty mess that he can’t wait to clean up. 

“You’re so fucking wet, baby girl,” he says as he steps out and away from his pants, kicking his boxers to the side. “Were you getting yourself ready for me?” he asks with a slight pout on his lips. 

You nod your head as one of your hands quickly finds its way to your breasts, kneading at the sensitive skin and pinching your nipples between your fingers. Another whine escapes you at the added stimulation; add the sight of Kuroo fully undressed in front of you, spitting into his hand and stroking his cock—your mind quickly spirals. 

Kuroo settles on his knees at the foot of the bed, licking his lips as he stares down at all the slick collected between your thighs. He wastes no time leaning down in front of your aching pussy, and he smirks at the way you continue to desperately fuck yourself with your tiny little fingers. 

“Gonna let me taste,” he asks softly, looking up at you through the valley of your breasts. 

Your face is sweaty, and that faraway look in your pretty eyes is making itself more noticeable. Kuroo knows you're about to cum, and it's a face he loves to see. 

With another simple nod of your head and a quiet ‘yes,’ Tetsurou gets to work. 

He spreads your legs further apart and tosses them over his shoulders, tugging softly on your hips so you can be closer to him. His actions rip an excited squeal from your mouth, followed by your sweet giggles. 

You continue playing with your pussy, only tracing soft circles on your clit. Kuroo smiles at all the wetness collected on your fingers and takes hold of your wrist to remove your hand. He licks his lips before popping your glistening fingers in his mouth, sucking down all of your sweet juices and humming at the taste of you.

“Taste so fucking sweet for me, baby,” he coos while kissing your wet fingertips. 

He’s looking at you with eyes so full of love as he continues worshiping your body, kissing your hips and inner thighs. He groans when he sees more slick dripping out of you, biting down on your thigh and devouring the sight of your perfect cunt clenching around nothing. 

He needs to be inside you right now, but he also can’t help teasing you with his tongue for a bit longer. He licks a long, heavy stripe up your sensitive folds, groaning at the taste of you and how your entire body shudders beneath him. In this position, you’re at his mercy, his hands only holding your hips in place while you scratch and squeeze at his forearms from the intense pleasure he’s giving you with his mouth.

Kuroo chuckles against you, finding it so cute how you buck your hips in search of him. He’s already nibbling on your clit the way you like. What more could you possibly want? 

“What’s wrong pretty girl?” he asks, placing a soft, wet kiss on your clit. “Not enough for you?”

You whine at his question. He knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it and the need in your voice. 

“Want you inside me, Tetsu,” your words come out as a needy whisper, mewling in ecstasy as his fingers trace little circles on your thighs. 

Tetsurou hums in satisfaction before he dives back into your aching center. He teases your entrance with his tongue, poking the wet muscle in and out while he presses down on your clit with his thumb. He can feel the way you shake under him, your thighs quivering when he adds more pressure to your bundle of nerves. So close. 

His gaze trails upwards, admiring every dip and curve of your body until he lands on your beautiful face. He finds your eyes already focused on his every movement, your brows pinched in an expression of pure pleasure, and your mouth parted in a silent moan. 

You trap his head between your thighs, back arching off of the bed as your body vibrates from your first release. He greedily slurps down whatever you have to offer, moaning and growling into your sensitive pussy, allowing your orgasm to rip through your body in soothing waves. 

The look in your eyes is slightly distant—Kuroo thinks—and he still hasn’t bred you the way he wants. He’s not unfamiliar with your increased sensitivity during this time, but it’s far too early for you to be this stimulated.

“I’m not even finished with you yet, beautiful, and you’re already lookin’ so fucked out,” he teases, voice sweet yet equally rough. 

He crawls up the bed, pressing kiss after hot kiss on your skin as he makes his way face to face with you, large arms cradling either side of your head. His cock is ready and burning hot as it bobs against your lower lips, causing you to hiss at the slight overstimulation. You feel a few beads of precum fall and drip onto you as he captures your lips in a near-violent kiss. His intent seeps into your mouth, and he silently declares what he’s always promised. 

“You’re going to look so fucking beautiful when you have my babies growing inside you,” he says, low and slightly out of breath. 

The statement shocks you somewhat at his use of plurals, and you return to reality instantly. “One baby at a time,” you pout playfully, kissing him again. 

He pulls away and smiles so wide that it shows in his eyes, “I know. You know what I mean, I just want a big family with you.” He leans back down, placing soft kisses on the side of your neck, laughing through his nose as you smack his bottom. 

Your shared laughter fills the bedroom, the world outside these four walls completely nonexistent as you share sloppy kisses for what feels like hours. However, Tetsurou plans to claim you as if it were the first time all over again, and he wastes no time doing so. 

A warm hand snakes its way down the side of your body, tracing your curves with such care that he almost can’t handle the thought of being too rough with you. He is going to worship you today and ensure every ounce of his love shows in every move he makes and every kiss he leaves on your skin. He reaches between you—using two thick fingers to swipe through your folds—gathering enough slick to lube up his already weeping cock. 

He pumps his fist once and then twice before pressing the tip of his dick onto your clit, causing you to moan in pleasure at such little contact. Using his hand to gently rub his cockhead in figure eights around your pussy, he continues to tease your folds until finally deciding he’s gathered enough of your wetness to press into you—something he has been waiting all day to do. 

With as much time as he spent between your thighs, he is surprised at how tight you always are for him, and you can’t help but whine at the intrusion. His cock is so warm and feels so heavy; you might come undone from this alone. 

Kuroo starts to pump only a third of his length in and out of your quivering hole. Trying so hard to hold back all of his primal urges and working on building you back up again slowly, moaning in your ear as he relishes in the warmth the two of you share. Finally bottoming out inside you, he feels you convulse beneath him. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tangled in his mess of hair as you tug slightly at the roots. 

“My fucking god, you feel amazing,” he says, clenching his jaw as if he hasn’t made love to you countless times, as if he hasn’t felt the heaven that resides between your thighs for years before this moment. Testsurou raises his head, looking at you, swiping a thumb across your cheek. “Tell me what you want, my love,” he demands, kissing you and resting his forehead against yours. 

He thrusts, slow and soft, and you spread your legs wider, thinking it would invite him to go faster, but he denies you. 

“I want all your cum inside, Tetsurou. Need you to put a baby inside of me,” you mumble breathlessly against his lips, grinding your hips to try and pick up the pace of his teasingly slow thrusts. “Please, baby,” you beg. 

“Is that all, pretty girl?” he asks, pulling out of you almost entirely and thrusting back in—quick and rough. You moan his name as the lewdest sound of skin against skin echoes throughout the room. One. Two. Three sharp thrusts followed by your sweet cries of ‘yes, yes, yes,’ and it’s then that he begins to fuck you with absolute purpose. 

Your hands have a mind of their own as they travel the expanse of his back, through his hair and back down again, nails leaving red trails on his skin while your thighs slide up and down the side of his body from the rhythm of his thrusts. 

His chest brushes against yours just right, stimulating your nipples and causing you to moan his name. He knows you so well and responds by leaning down, capturing your breast in his mouth as he opens wide and sucks hard, his teeth teasing your peaked nipple as he pulls away. He lingers momentarily, alternating between swirling his tongue and using his teeth to stimulate you. 

With a wet kiss, he pulls away, wrapping his arms around you and leaning back on his haunches as he holds you close. Your chests heave, and your skin slightly sticks together, the slickest part being where the two of you are connected, and he shudders at how quick you are to wrap your legs around his waist. 

“I can’t wait to make you a father,” you say, your eyes locking on his as you mewl from how he fills you in this position. The tip of his cock is surely hitting your cervix, and the familiar throb you feel while he pokes and prods inside has you grinding in circles against him, desperate to meet his thrusts. “You’re going to be an amazing father to our children, Tetsurou,” you whimper as your eyes meet his. 

He groans at your admission, his brows knitting together as he bites his lip in response. Both of his hands find their way to either side of your hips, gripping your skin and lifting you to speed up the pace. Your lips meet in a messy clash, your teeth scrape his tongue teasingly and he begins to unravel just in time with you. 

“I love you so much, angel, and I’m so glad I get to spend the rest of my life with you,” he declares, moaning breathlessly and going up in pitch with each word. “So fucking beautiful,” he rasps out, his lips meeting yours again while his hands dig and squeeze into your skin. 

A few more thrusts and lifts of your hips, and you can feel how close he is. His arms are beginning to tire, but he still hasn’t had enough of you. 

“I can feel you about to cum, Tetsurou. Please give it to me,” you sigh against his lips, locking eyes as you feel him begin to spill his hot load inside. 

“Fuck! You feel so good, baby,” he says as he lays you back down. “I’m still not finished with you yet, my love.” 

This time, he grabs one of the many pillows at the head of the bed, and you instantly know what he has in mind. You instinctively lift your hips, and he gives your ass a soft squeeze before you back settle down, perfectly propped for him to reach deep inside and plant his seed. 

Once you’re both comfortable with the position, he gets back to work, grabbing you by the meat of your thighs and spreading you open. He shivers when he sees a dribble of cum slipping out and down the crack of your ass—this is unacceptable. 

Golden eyes find yours as his fingers swipe up the mess he made. “Can’t waste a single drop,” he says, sucking his lip between his teeth, fucking his cum slowly back into you with his fingers. 

Wet squelches ring through your ears as you focus on his hand pumping in and out of you—the other gripped tight around the base of his cock, edging himself. The rough callouses on his fingers stimulate your gummy walls so well, and he knows what he’s doing to you. 

“Enough with your teasing, Tetsurou,” you huff out in short breaths, reaching down to take hold of his wrist. “Because I’m not finished with you either, my love,” your smirk mirrors his own. Guiding his hand out and up towards your lips, you suck on his wet fingers, moaning at the taste of your combined juices—a little salty but so fucking sweet. 

Laughter once again fills the large room as he moves to hover over you, licking your lips and having a taste for himself. 

“Always so eager,” he chuckles, moving to kiss your neck, sucking softly. 

Rolling his hips back and forth, he slides his length between your folds, tip catching at your entrance two or three times. He still gives you nothing—not yet—because telling him not to tease you only makes him want to do it more. 

As if sensing your annoyance, he gives in, guiding his cock to your entrance once again; he settles back on his knees, pressing inside of you inch by inch. Those skilled hands of his begin sliding up and down your thighs, deciding on gripping your ankles and resting them comfortably on his shoulders. 

The meat of your thighs lay flush against his chest; you can feel the heat radiating off of him along with the sweat that coats his defined abdomen. His large arms wrap around your legs, pulling you flush against him, and you revel in the feeling of his cock finally reaching that deep place inside. 

Kuroo stays there for a moment—perfectly still—kissing your calves, taking a bite here and there. You stare at him in complete awe as he begins to thrust in and out, tip prodding at your cervix each time. His eyes pinch shut, cheek resting against your calf as he loses himself in the feel of your warm walls squeezing him tight.

“Feels good,” you whisper, offering him a sweet smile before biting your lip and tossing your head back onto the plush mattress. You reach out to him, silently asking to hold his hand, and he doesn’t hesitate to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Using your hands as leverage, he speeds up his thrusts, setting a brutal pace as he pulls you in closer and closer, mumbling words of praise through pleasured groans. His cock throbs inside of you, nearing another release, and his balls feel heavy as they slap against your ass with every sharp thrust. 

“Gonna cum again,” he grits out, hips faltering in their rhythm just as he spills his load inside of you for the second time. He chants your name while mumbling ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’ a few times, grinding into you to ensure his cum stays buried just as deep as he is.  

Releasing your hands, he runs his over the skin of your thighs, rubbing and scratching in soft circles. He takes your legs and folds you in half, your ass lifting off the pillow just slightly as he leans into you. His kisses are sloppy and wet, and he grips your thighs like a lifeline as he begins to jackhammer his cock into you. 

Wet squelching becomes the only sound you can register, drowning out his mumbled words of praise. You admire how beautiful he looks, lost in pleasure, eyes raking up and down your body, both of you glistening with sweat. 

He slowly builds you up to another orgasm, your body shaking the closer you get, and your pussy clenches around his cock in a vice grip. You can’t get enough of him, from the way his hands grip your skin so gently, the wild strands of black hair sticking to his forehead, down to the teasing words he showers you with throughout. 

You cum, your body trembling as Kuroo tries to keep you still, his nails surely leaving crescent marks on your thighs. He rises—no longer crowding over you—chest heaving and dripping in sweat. His amber eyes appear darker than ever as he continues to pound into you, overstimulating your pussy beyond what you can handle. 

“Don’t stop, Tetsurou,” you beg, wrapping your hands around your legs, spreading yourself so he can focus on his current task. His hands move to your hips, pulling you closer to meet every sharp thrust. 

“Third time’s a charm, right baby,” he teases, unable to help himself. “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” he chokes out, face contorting because he knows you did that on purpose, but he laughs anyway. 

His cock throbs inside of you, eyes zeroed in on that thick creamy ring coating the base of him, and the sight makes him groan—sucking in his bottom lip. There’s so much cum dripping out of you with every thrust in and out, and he fucking loves it. 

“Keep going, baby,” you encourage him, nodding your head when you feel his hips falter in their movement. “Give me everything. I want it all, Tetsurou,” your words come out in broken cries, relishing the sight of him coming undone. 

A few more thrusts and his cum fills you— so warm and thick—thicker than the previous ones. There’s no doubt in either of your minds that this will take; he just has to stay inside a little longer. 

Releasing your grip on your legs, you finally relax, setting your feet back comfortably on the mattress. Kuroo continues to rock his hips slowly, pushing his cum further inside of you, his mind elsewhere as he flits his gaze between your face and your pussy. 

“You look so pretty with my cum inside you, princess,” he nearly giggles, satisfied with his work and the euphoric look in your eyes. “Think we can keep this up for the rest of the week?” he asks, breathless, offering you that same sideways grin you fell in love with years ago. 

This makes you toss your head back, mirroring his laughter and clenching around him with every exhale. You reach your arms out, and he leans back over you, placing several kisses on your chest and neck—his nose brushes against your cheek, waiting for your response. 

“Let’s get some rest first. You look like you’re about to pass out from dehydration,” you say, amused at his shift in demeanor. 

His arms wrap around your frame, rolling you over so you now lay on top of him, fingers tracing invisible words on your back. He is still inside you, keeping his seed nice and warm, not allowing a single drop to escape.

“I made sure to have plenty of water today, and you know I can go for hours when the moment calls for it,” he delivers his statement with one shallow thrust, just enough to rub against that spongy spot inside. 

Too overstimulated to try for another round, you place your palms on his chest, resting your chin on the back of your hands as you admire his features. He plants a few pecks on your forehead before he moves a hand to caress the side of your face, thumb swiping gently on your cheek. His eyes bore into yours as you lay there for a minute or two, taking each other in. 

“You think that was enough?” you ask, nuzzling your cheek deeper into his palm to place a kiss on his wrist.

“If that wasn’t enough,” he looks down, gesturing at the mess of cum between you. “I’ll make sure it will be by the end of the week,” he says reassuringly, leaning in to claim your lips in a kiss. 

After today and the amount of cum dripping out onto the mattress, you do not doubt his ability to put a baby in you. 

The rest of the week continues the very same, and if you thought you’d already made love on every surface of your home before, then you’re wrong. Kuroo finds new places to take you that you never thought imaginable, and his stamina has become endless in his mission to get you pregnant. 

➣

About a month and a half later, you find yourselves hovering over the bathroom sink, waiting for the plastic sticks you arranged in a row to reveal their results. It’s only been a few days since your period was supposed to arrive, but you can’t help being excited at the possibility. 

Minutes pass, and the first stick displays two pink lines, the second and the third following right behind with the same result—you both lean in closer. Tetsurou’s eyes quickly shift between the instructions, the test, and your face. He takes in your expression—shock and absolute joy— and pulls you into a tight hug, lifting you slightly off the ground as happy tears fall from your eyes. 

He kisses your face, setting you back down to leave another on your lips. You hum against him in complete bliss, satisfied with the results of your love. 

Tetsurou pulls away, sporting the cheekiest grin that nearly stretches from ear to ear.

 “Told you I’d make sure it was enough.”

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