#Male Edge Routine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jayparked · 3 months ago

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𝓂𝓊𝓈𝒾𝒸 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝓎 𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈 | 𝒿𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓈𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑔 | 𝓂

snippet: "Ride me." Jay huffs. It's a command, not a request. He moves back to the head of the bed, adjusting the pillows before leaning back against them. Lifting the covers away from his body, he removes his boxers slowly. looking into your eyes as he does so. pairing: park jongseong x female reader genre: smut au: music producer jay, established relationship rating: explicit/18+, minors dni word count: 9.7k warnings: thunder and lightning storms, cigarette smoking sexual warnings: early morning sex, unprotected sex, lots of moaning, y/n tries to be a brat but jay aint having it, forced orgasm, oral (female and male receiving), jay almost lets y/n dom but then quickly changes his mind, spitting/mentions of drool, fingering, biting, marking, light bruising (from fingernails and biting), choking, language, some light foot worship, jay just really needs y/n to moan the way she did earlier so he can use it for his track, voice recording, brief use of sex toys i.e: restraints and vibrator, begging, whimpering, overstimulation, dirty talk, cigarette use, uhh jay uses the ashes from his cigarette on y/n’s nipples as a stimulant..., there’s some real good aftercare in there too so don’t worry, they’re like...grossly in love

The sound of the rain pitter pattering against the window is what initially draws you from your slumber. It falls rhythmically in a way that would normally lull you back to sleep, but the loud, harsh, fast contact of the water against the glass is almost flinch worthy. It isn’t an ordinary skylight window above a bed. The bedroom walls are slanted invertedly so that when you’re lying on the bed and look up, the window is slanted right above you. You watch as the raindrops hit the window and slowly slide down.

Yawning, you stretch out your arms and feel your muscles tighten before relaxing and you sigh softly with pleasure. You rub your eyes with your fists, blinking quickly as the moonlight escapes past the clouds barrier and cascades across your face causing you to squint annoyedly. Jay loves leaving the specially built blinds up at night, something you had to grow accustomed to after some time living together. Night after night watching him gaze wistfully towards the moon, it became your favorite part of your nightly routine. Watching that look of childish wonder gloss over your boyfriend’s eyes...there’s just nothing like it.

Tonight, the sky isn’t so peaceful. Lightning angrily streaks across the sky making you jump and clutch the flannel sheets to your chest.

"It wake you up too?"

You gasp, a sharp intake of breath causes your voice to squeak.

"You scared me, Jay!" You slap your boyfriend's shoulder lightly with the palm of your hand. He chuckles and rolls onto his side to face you, black hair swooping down over his forehead, just above his very awake looking eyes.

"Sorry. The thunder woke me up a little while ago. I was waiting for it to get you next." The edges of his eyes pinch together as he smirks, his voice sounding more sultry than playful. You shake your head trying to distract yourself from leading your mind down that alley. But it's hard when he looks that good and especially since you just had a dream about his-

"So. Now that we're both up..." he whispers and runs his pointer finger down your arm from your shoulder to your fingertips. "What should we do?" His big innocent eyes are all a ploy, you know that for sure. His pupils are blown out and his breathing is uneven. He knows exactly what he wants to do...and you're not sure if you're against it.

"How about..." you start slowly. You run your hand up his naked chest, feeling his muscles flex under your palm. He sighs and closes his eyes, completely enjoying the feeling of your hand rubbing against his bare skin. His sleep swollen lips part open and you can hear his breaths coming out sharp and quick, his heart rate rising quickly. You guide your hand down his chest and over his abdomen which makes him take in a sharp breath between his teeth. Jay's eyes remain closed so it's easier to marvel over the way his bottom lip starts to quiver, or the way the moonlight cascades shadows off his eyelashes, or the way his cock becomes more and more visible as it hardens under the sheets.

"How about we go back to sleep!" You say excitedly and remove your hand from your boyfriend's body. You throw your head back into your pillow and quickly close your eyes, pretending to instantly fall back asleep. If only it was that easy, right?

"I think we both know there's no point in sleeping now," Jay says, a low growl vibrating deep in his throat. He grasps the sheets in his hand and with one quick motion he throws them off your bodies and onto the floor. Cold air coats your skin and you tuck your knees up to your chest to try to keep in the warmth.

"Oh. Don't worry." Jay grabs your shoulders and turns you on your back, grasping your knees and opening up your legs so that he could kneel between them. "I'll warm you up real quick."

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, your stomach on fire with anticipation of what's to come. A streak of bright lightning flashes outside once more, followed by a loud clap of thunder over your heads. Jay moves his hand from your shoulder and rubs his palms up and down your thighs- the warmth of his skin makes you sigh and your shoulders relax further into the bed as his hands get further and further up your leg. He gets closer and closer to the edge of your pajama shorts, each time his hands move up and down your legs you're annoyingly aware of the nearness. Like a magnet, your hips move downward to shift your body closer to him, trying so desperately to close that distance. All you want is for him to reach his long fingers underneath your shorts and relieve all of the tension building up at your clit.

"You still with me?" His voice is sultry, almost grainy. He leans back against his heels, now even further away from your heat. But that doesn't stop his roaming hands. Jay's thumb rubs against your talus and moves down to the arch of your foot. At first you flinch from the contact, his fingers tickling your skin. But you relax as he continues to massage your feet, total bliss overtaking your body.

"Sorry," you sigh out. "Feels so good."

Jay smiles, the hunger gone from his eyes for a moment and in their place is the look of a caretaker wanting to bring comfort. He longingly looks at your foot as he continues to massage it and as you look at him you can see clearly how much he loves you. With every soft and delicate touch down to the way he treats every inch of your body as if it were a prized gem.

But then the hunger returns and he moves away from your feet, crawling up towards your face until his lips are mere centimeters away from yours. The heat from his breath makes you hold in your own breathing, your lips parting, desperately wanting for him to kiss you.

This small action does not go unnoticed and Jay prides himself in his ability to have you wrapped around his beautifully long fingers. "Is there something you want?" His lips barely brush over the tops of your own with his annunciation of 'you want'. Shivers run down your spine and your eyes flutter closed, tilting your chin up towards him and elongating your neck. Jay lets his eyes roam over your body, licking his lips as he focuses on the spot of your neck that he knows is extra sensitive.

"What do you want?" His voice is so soft, far beyond a whisper or even a murmur and it completely contrasts against the ever nearing booming of thunder. There's a hidden softness behind his eyes as he peels them away from your body to look into your own. His bangs are falling over his eyes again and you take your hand to sweep them away. Instead of resting your hand back at your side, you cup his cheek, feeling the softness of his skin beneath your fingertips.

Sighing, you can only manage to get out one word in response, "You."

Both of your lips pull together with a force stronger than magnets. There's a faint remnant of smoke hidden behind his breath that's so addicting you can't help but deepen the kiss further. Tongues swirl together and it feels like you've slipped into a dream. One of his hands cradles the small of your back while the other one weaves fingers into your hair. A light tug on your scalp makes you moan into Jay's mouth and he replies hungrily by taking your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling gently yet hard enough to make your head lean forward so that your shoulders lift off the bed.

Jay pulls your body forward more, the hand on the small of your back raising you up until you're both sitting facing one another. His chest feels warm to the touch despite the chill that lingers in the room. You don't blame him though. Your body also feels like it's radiating more heat than normal. With each kiss adds a whole other degree to the body temperature between the two of you. And you just can't get enough.

"Ride me." Jay huffs. It's a command, not a request. He moves back to the head of the bed, adjusting the pillows before leaning back against them. Lifting the covers away from his body, he removes his boxers slowly. looking into your eyes as he does so. This man is so confident it's almost unsettling. But you know he knows how much you love watching him undress. And it wouldn't be Jay if he wasn't teasing you in some way.

The band of his boxers dips below his hips, exposing his deep muscle lines. The bulge of his cock is so prominent it's making your mouth water and legs twitch with anticipation. Finally, he pulls them all the way down and releases his hardened cock from its cotton cage. He looks harder than normal, the redness of his skin a whole new shade of red than before. A large vein pulses at you, encouraging you to get closer and indulge in all the pleasures it offers you.

When Jay's hand grasps his shaft and strokes lazily, that's when your mind starts to feel hazy. Your mouth starts to salivate and that burning need between your legs is growing so intensely if you don't act on it soon you just might combust right here in this very spot.

You crawl towards your boyfriend slowly, watching him leisurely pump his cock in a way a cat would watch a mouse eat. Batting his hand away, you take his thickness in both of your hands, feeling the warm blood pump through his veins. Jay winces as you grip him a little tightly, the tip of his cock nearly throbbing in your hands from the pressure. You lean over him and open your mouth slightly, allowing a bead of drool to drop down and run down the side of his shaft.

"Fuck." Jay leans his head back against the headboard and moans.

"I'm so hungry for you," you purr and flatten your tongue against the side of his cock and lick one long stripe up to the tip, swirling your tongue around it before sliding your tongue back down again. Jay moans underneath you, muscles already shaking from the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"Do you want me to suck you off or ride you?" You continue to use your tongue to play with him, licking down to the base of his cock before leaving little love bites at the base of his stomach and along his hip bones. Using one of your hands, you reach upward and apply pressure as your hand climbs up his stomach muscles, feeling every curve against your palm until you get to his chest and repeat the motion downward. Another moan leaves his beautiful lips and you can't help but smirk as you realize you could do this all day. Watching him melt in your hands and seeing him mentally debate with himself was a power surge unlike any other.

“Ri-ride me. I want you to ride me.” The words barely come out audible. His eyes are wide as he blinks rapidly, trying his best to stay present, his jaw and neck muscles bulging. He’s so close to the edge you think about ignoring his request. If you just suck him off all the way through, there would be punishment. No doubt about that. As appealing as being punished by your super sexy boyfriend might be, you decide to abide by his request and position yourself over him, your entrance hovering over his weeping cock.

“No more teasing.” The pleading tone is gone from his voice. Instead, it’s commanding and authoritative.

But you choose to ignore that once again.

“Can you even last?” You stick your tongue out playfully, gently biting down as you smirk. Your hands roam over his chest and lightly graze his nipples, a small act that normally drives him insane and right now you can see the clear focus in his eyes. You picked the wrong night to try to be playful.

“Fuck it. You wanna play games? I can play games.” In one sweeping motion, Jay has you on your back, his body hovering over yours. His hand is back on the small of your back, his fingertips gently kneading the muscles of your flesh before he digs his nails in, leaving a trail of scratch marks down your spine.

He tilts his head to the side as he looks into your eyes, pausing to think about something that thrills you to your bones. You’ve never been with a more imaginative partner before and although sometimes his ideas seem scary at first, you trust him completely.

“Oh,” he says simply. “You thinking about something interesting?”

“I’m thinking about all the ways I want you to fuck me.”

“Oof. What a foul mouth you have. Such vulgar words coming out of those pretty lips of yours. I’d fill it if I wasn’t so inclined to fuck that pussy of yours.”

You hitch in a breath, that tingling sensation spurring back to life deep within your core.

As if reading the thoughts of your body, he moves one hand slowly down your midsection, pausing right above your pelvic area. You want to rub your thighs together, hell, you want to touch yourself- no screw that, you need him to fuck you right here and right now. A floodgate of desire opens up within you and you need his cock inside of you. Now.

“Jay please, please fuck me. I need you inside me. I need to feel you.” It came out whinier than you initially intended, but now’s not the time to dwell on one’s tone.

Completely and utterly satisfied with his victory, Jay lines his cock up with your entrance, the tip of his head brushing past your folds and picking up the slick coming out of you. Moaning with the contact, as little as it may be, you try to scoot down further to feel him against your clit. But he holds your hips down firmly in place. You’re not going anywhere unless he wants you to move.

Jay pauses and turns around, grabbing your pillow. You push on your feet, lifting your ass off the bed so that he can rest the pillow underneath there. Now, slightly elevated, he has a better angle and a straight accessway to your g-spot.

Leaning forward, Jay lightly wraps his fingers around your throat, squeezing lightly. Your eyes flutter backwards, already at risk of coming undone from the buildup alone. His pointer finger is pressing right where the sensitive spot on your neck is underneath your ear and it takes everything you have to keep yourself from moaning like a sick person.

The head of his cock teases your entrance once more, getting closer and closer until literally just the tip goes inside before he abruptly pulls back out.

“Please. No more teasing.” You beg, wiggling your shoulders as you pout.

“Not so funny now that you’re on the other end, huh?” Jay lowly chuckles and that’s when he thrusts his hips forward, his cock sliding right into you.

“Oh!” You yell as the tip brushes against your g-spot instantly. Your gasp gets caught in your throat because of his hand around your neck and you nearly swallow your own words. The restricted airways has your head feeling lighter than normal and it gives you a new high that’s impossible to feel if he would have done this without his hand squeezing your neck. Your walls contract instinctually around him, desperately trying to adjust to his length and girth. The light tug feels so satisfying and you grip his forearms tightly, fingernails leaving small half-moon shaped marks in his skin.

“Ugh, you’re so wet and still so tight,” Jay whines and slowly moves his hips back and forth, not enough to remove the head of his cock from you, but enough to brush against your bundle of nerves over and over and over again. He releases his hand from your neck and moves it down on the bed to support himself as he quickens his pace.

Arching your back already, you shut your eyes tightly as you try to keep yourself from coming too soon.

Not quite sure if it’s the angle, the day, or the way he’s rhythmically moving his hips, but this all feels too good. Even more so than sex with Jay usually is. The way he's pounding you into the mattress has your body contorting in what should be inhuman ways. Your arms bend as you grip the sheets above your head, your back arches in a possessed like manner as Jay continues to use his cock to send you over the edge. Sex has never felt this good before. He has never made you feel this good before. Your body is shaking- no, vibrating as you feel that white heat getting closer and closer. Your breath hitches in your throat before you let out the most pornarific moan you've ever heard in your life. Upon hearing you, Jay stutters inside you, his orgasm hitting him harder than he expected. You're still coming down from your own high, the dark spots in the corners of your vision are finally disappearing.

"Holy fuck," Jay pants as he slowly removes himself from you. “You’ve never made that sound before.” He’s sitting back on his heels once more, staring at you with a look of wonder. There’s a spark in his eyes, one that you recognize, and you stifle a laugh knowing what’s about to come next.

“Inspired?” You smile.

“Immensely,” he delights. His fingers start to tap rhythmically against his thighs as he looks over to his music equipment in the corner of the room. In the most innocent and inoffensive way, he’s long forgotten you as his creative mind kicks into overdrive.

“Go.” You yawn. “I’m gonna go back to sleep.”

Jay leans down and gives you a quick kiss on your temple, leaving the bed to quickly pull on his sweatpants and seating himself in his chair, firing up his computer and putting on his headphones.

Your eyes droop slower and slower, getting heavier each time you blink. The last thing you see before sleep takes you is your boyfriend leaning forward in his chair, back muscles rippling as he lights a cigarette, the smoke swirling up towards the ceiling as he exhales, dancing through the fringe of his bangs as it ascends.

“Ugh!”

Your eyes shoot open, sleep being yanked away from you by a loud bang and the yell from Jay. Sitting up, you see your boyfriend’s fists clenched tightly, resting on either side of his keyboard. His face is red, the vein on his temple starting to bulge and his shoulders are hunched so far that his shoulders are almost touching his ears.

“Jay? What’s wrong?” You rub your fists into your eyes, trying to keep the grumpiness of being abruptly woken up at bay.

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He slides his headphones off his ears so that they’re sitting at the base of his neck. The ends of his hair is coated with sweat, the tips of his ears red from the headphones being on for too long. Pivoting his chair towards you, you can see the stress lines on his forehead and the strain in his eyes. There’s a nearly finished cigarette tucked between his fingers at the knuckles and a few finished ones lying in the ashtray by his keyboard. He huffs on the one in his hand quickly before putting it out in said ashtray and then climbs onto the bed to sit across from you, his knees touching yours.

"I've been working on this track for the past three hours now. I just can't get the pitch right." He shakes his head in defeat, a long sigh leaving his lips as he does so.

"This happens all the time, but it’s okay. You always get it in the end." You try to sound encouraging but instead your voice comes off dull and uninterested.

Jay's mouth pulls to the right side of his face, making the lines by his cheeks and dimple deepen. "This one is different. I'm already starting to forget how you sounded."

Baffled, you tilt your head to the side and nervously laugh. "Me? I thought I dreamt that!"

"Yes you! I've never heard anything more...more...more," he snaps his fingers as he tries to think of the right word, "more exhilarating! It was dramatic. It was sexy, inspiring even. It was a sound that could tell anyone what you're feeling. It's pure bliss." His fingers absentmindedly make their way to the divot on the inside of your knee, rubbing slow deep circles into your skin. On a regular day, the touch would barely be noticed. Right now, on the other hand, his touch ignites a fire in your blood, raising your body temperature to a whole new degree. It's suddenly hard to swallow and you're very, very aware that you are watching as his lips form words as he speaks, barely comprehending said words at all. The way his jaw moves and the way his mouth molds around each syllable and seeing flashes of his tongue gently touch the rooftop of his mouth.

"Y/N? You fall asleep with your eyes open again?"

You're brought back down to earth, blinking rapidly as you feel your boyfriend softly shake your shoulder.

"Sorry," you rub your eyes and suppress the urge to yawn, "I guess I'm still tired."

"Let me tuck you in." He goes to lay you back down and you gladly let him.

"Here," you mumble, lips barely moving and eyes already shut. You let the weight of your arm bounce against his side of the bed . "You should sleep too. Take a break. Work later."

He doesn't respond but his weight is still on the end of the bed. You can feel the dip and you just want him to lie down already.

"Jaaayyy," you whine, eyes still closed.

"I think," his pitch has changed, a low murmur making your eyes pop open wide immediately. You know that tone. You know it all too well and your body starts to overheat again, "I want to do something else."

Slowly lifting your head, you intend to look into his eyes, but you're very quickly misguided as you watch your boyfriend slowly pumping at his cock, quickly making himself go from semi hard to fully hard in mere seconds. His blue boxers rest below his hip bones, giving yourself a full display on the thing that is going to wreck you into the next dimension momentarily.

"O-oh." You sit there frozen, unsure of what to do next.

"I know I just fucked you but honestly? I can do better." There's a devilish smirk painted onto that beautiful face of his and you've never been more excited to be a sinner.

You match his smirk and use your feet to kick the covers off the bed and before you're done with the action, he's on top of you. Lips that usually feather lightly across your body now hungrily nip and lick over your rib cage, around your hip bones below your stomach line, and over the swell of your collar bones. Each nip and pull makes you shiver beneath him, your hands tracing over the muscles on his back. Your legs come up and hug his hips, now trapping him in place. One of Jay's hands grabs a fistful of your yellow night shorts, tugging them to the side but not necessarily taking them off. His thumb digs into your hip bone while he kisses around your breasts. The closeness of his fingers to your core is driving your body absolutely mad. You're already so turned on and ready to be touched and you know that he knows that that's what you want.

And yet…

His tongue delicately swirls your nipple and you hold your breath for a moment. The coolness of the air mixed in with his saliva makes you feel chills throughout your entire body. He flattens his tongue directly on the tip of your nipple as he squeezes the other breast with his hand and you quickly move your hands from his back and into his soft black hair. You grip tightly at his roots, already feeling your back start to arch as he continues to lick and lap at the hardening buds on your chest.

"Hmm...already?" He chuckles as he takes your nipple between his teeth.

"Hnng," You groan out and grip his hair tighter. Your breathing shallows and your body can't decide what it wants. You want him to rub your clit oh so badly but you don't want him to stop massaging your breasts. The way his tongue swirls around your nipple is almost too good. No one should be this talented with their mouth.

He moves to the side of your breasts and leaves love bites in an array of patterns on your skin.

"Why'd you stop?" You gasp and grip his shoulders. The love bites feel great, they definitely don't help the surge of arousal going straight down into your shorts, but you know you were close to coming and you've never come from nipple stimulation alone.

"You weren't moaning how I wanted you to. Ah- which...actually reminds me..." And just like that, his body is off of yours, taking the heat with him. Getting off the bed, Jay opens one of his desk drawers and removes a small microphone with a clip. You watch as he gathers the necessary chords, no ordinary recording device would do. He quickly attaches one end of the chords into his computer and fishes the rest of the line out as he walks back towards the bed. Still holding the hand sized device, he places his knees on either side of your hips, giving you a full view of his beautifully erected cock. You mentally note that he has definitely shaved recently, his skin looking so soft and kissable. The thought of kissing and sucking at the areas around the base of his cock makes your mouth water. While he busies himself with trying to find a way for the microphone to rest on top of the headboard without falling, you help yourself to a little taste of him.

The tip of his cock is salty with precum and you lick your lips quickly to lubricate them. Jay's hips instinctively flinch backwards, but once he looks down and sees what you're doing, all he does is smirk and continue to work on setting up the microphone.

You slowly insert the head of his cock onto the top of your tongue just inside your mouth. Exhaling, you let your warm breath fall across his shaft and small goosebumps appear at his midsection. Taking a long stripe from the base of his cock and back to the head, you avoid any chastising about teasing by promptly inserting him fully into your mouth, slowly and inch by inch allowing him to sink further and further back into your throat. You go until the tip of your nose and your lips touch his midsection, his length now fully submerged in your throat.

"Jesus you're not playing around tonight aren't you?"

You hum a response that makes his hips sputter, a stuttering groan leaving his lips quickly followed by a whispered ‘fuck’.

Slowly moving your head back, you go until the tip is almost past your lips before moving back down his shaft. You keep up the slow pace, mostly to annoy him and also to insure that he doesn't come anytime soon.

His hands, without warning, are weaving through your hair as you swirl your tongue around his tip. He guides you, quickening your pace and he continues to hit the back of your throat over. And over. And over-

Jay pulls himself back and his cock is out of your mouth.

"You're a sneaky little devil. You almost had me." He wags his finger at your face, making small tsk tsk noises with his mouth as he recenters himself and pulls his boxers up, hiding his beautiful cock from view. "Now, where was I?" He leans back towards the microphone and turns it on, a bright red light blinking up on the side. Adjusting the angle one last time, he's finally happy with his setup.

"Do you know what this is for?" He points to it and gets off the bed. Humoring him, you shake your head no.

"I need you to make that sound you made earlier. Do you understand? I don't want it. I need it."

Worriedly, you realize he's heading towards the closet and fear and excitement root into your chest as you watch him bend down to the last drawer of the dresser and take out a shoe box.

Sauntering back to the bed, he carelessly throws the shoe box onto the bed and some of its contents fall out. A bright blue vibrator as long as your forearm is the first you see followed up by light gray fuzzy handcuffs. There's more in the box, at least half a dozen other toys that Jay only likes to break out when he feels like you need to be punished, or if he needs a specific reaction from your body.

Right now, you're thinking it might be both options.

Jay picks up the handcuffs and looks them over in his hands. He's acting as if he's never used them on you before and that in itself is thrilling because now, you don't know what's going to happen next.

Pulling out three more pairs from the box, he wordlessly cuffs your wrists and ankles to the bedposts while you willingly, and wordlessly, allow him.

Still without words, he moves back to the bed. That's when you notice how steady his breathing is. And although appearing to be calm under a heated situation, his cock continues to throb and twitch, the head surely getting redder and angrier by the second underneath his boxers.

His hands are moving down your body, feeling every curve, reading every detail in your skin as if he were reading braille. Fingers dip inside your waistband, hooking around the material before sliding them down your legs, annoyedly realizing that he should have removed them before cuffing you to the bed. Without blinking, he grasps the material between his hands and tears the fabric as if it were nothing more than a single sheet of paper. The anticipation of his touch is driving you crazy and you're never going to get over the fact that your boyfriend has now literally torn your clothes off your body in order to get you naked.

"Please, babe," you pull at your restraints, the fuzzy padding protecting your wrists from any real harm and you try your best to spread your legs out further for him, "touch me."

Unresponsive, Jay eyes your core, looking at it in a way a man starved looks at a loaf of bread. His hands are on your thighs now, deeply kneading your muscles with his fingertips. His thumbs graze over bruises from previous escapades and it feels borderline euphoric.

"Touch me." You repeat and watch angrily as he remains unresponsive. His hands dip lower, over your knees and down to your shins. Desperation bubbles up from within the pits of your belly and rises until you feel it fester in your throat until you can't keep it down any longer.

"Touch me!" You yell and not so gently nudge his side with your leg. Finally, he looks up at your face and chuckles under his breath.

"So needy," he says with disappointment, but a smile paints softly across his face. "So ungrateful and so spoiled."

Jay's hands move quickly, fingers suddenly grip tightly at your hips as he raises up your lower half until it's level with his face. You bite on your bottom lip to keep yourself from yelping as his fingernails scratch into your skin before moving to support your weight by cupping your ass. You can feel his hot breath hovering over your clit, making you feel just how truly wet you are. Jay gulps down hard, looking as if being presented with a grand holiday meal.

"You're glistening, baby," he groans, proceeding to attach his lips onto your clit. The moment his tongue makes contact with your slickness, you inhale quickly. Finally, finally some contact.

He swirls his tongue slowly around your clit, no longer making direct contact. Gathering as much juices as he can, he spits it back out onto your clit. Warm mixes with cold and you sit up quickly only to be pushed back down by your boyfriend's strong hands. He keeps his hand on your chest right below your collarbone as he uses his other hand to wipe your juices and his spit around your clit.

It's so wet you almost miss the feeling of his bare hands.

"So, so messy." He tsks at you and continues his movements. "What am I going to do with you, Y/n? Hmm?"

You stay silent at the sound of your name instead of his usual pet names for you. His piercing brown eyes stare deep within yours as he continues to stroke you.

"Do I let you come from my fingers? From my tongue? From my cock? What will make you make that pretty...pretty sound again?"

You whimper as he inserts a single finger into your hole, your vagina naturally clenching around the digit. It's not enough. It's not enough. It's not enough.

Jay chuckles and you know he's finding humor in the way he has you wrapped around his finger...well...quite literally. He knows how weak you are when it comes to him, knows you'll do anything for him and knows exactly what to do to make you feel good.

"Are you going to be a good girl and make that pretty sound again? Hm? For me?" He inserts another finger and slowly curls them inside you, beckoning you towards him and touching that spongey bundle of nerves that sends you straight into the heavens.

"I'll try!" You cry out, wishing that he would apply more pressure inside of you so that you can finally release the orgasm that has been building up bigger and bigger. You’re honestly not sure if you can make the same moaning sound that he’s referring to because, quite honestly, you have no idea what you sounded like in the first place.

Jay pushes down your hips that you weren't aware you had raised upward. He keeps his free hand there while he quickens his pace with the other. The beautiful and sinful acts that his fingers can do to your body are coming into effect as you start to shake beneath him. Your breathing is more ragged than ever and you pull as hard as you can at your restraints without caring if it'll hurt you later. The coil deep within your body starts getting tighter and tighter, readying itself to break and unfurl.

You open your mouth to let out a deep, long moan but right as the sound erupts out of your mouth and into existence, Jay pulls his fingers out of you and sits back, completely untouching you.

Your orgasm disappears in a snap and you groan out angrily.

“Okay what the fuck,” you sound angrier than you intended.

“Can’t let you come like that. It’s too easy.” He looks at the bed and pushes past some of the toys until he finds one that breaks out that devilishly handsome smile that you love oh so much.

In his hand he’s holding a simple, small, white vibrator.

Now, vibrators aren’t your favorite and he’s well aware of this. You come too quickly and aren’t able to savor that sweet build up feeling of fire within your lower half, that numbness that overtakes the tips of your toes and makes you want to kick them straight into a wall. The fact that he picked this out of the box of other torturing devices means that he plans on making you come. A lot. And in a short period of time.

Upon realizing his intention you think about pleading with him to use something else, anything else. The tiredness behind your eyes creeps up slower than the night, but it does not slow its pace. You want to come. You want to make him come. And then you want to sleep wrapped up tightly in your boyfriend’s arms.

Jay turns the vibrator on and watches as it purrs to life in his hands. He strokes the length of it as if it were the back of a cat. Now, looking at you, he grins, showing his pearly white teeth and another wave of arousal washes over you. Power exuberates from every inch of his body as he saunters back over to you. A bead of sweat forms at your temple and slowly slides down past your cheekbone. It tickles and makes you shiver, but you don't take your eyes off Jay.

"Are you ready?" he says softly upon reaching the edge of the bed. Standing in between your legs, he waits for your response.

You sigh, "yes," and let the muscles in your legs relax.

Jay places the tip of the vibrator on your left thigh and you moan immediately at the touch, feeling the sensation creep up to your core. The vibrator stays in place for a few moments while Jay watches your expressions intently. His eyebrows are furrowed so deeply that they almost touch and his mouth is scrunched together and pushed to the side. This has become more than sexual pleasure.

This is a science experiment.

"How does it feel when I do this?" he queries and moves the vibrator slowly up your thigh and stops just before it touches your core.

"It feels...torturous." Your hips start to shake purely from lack of physical contact where you need it the most. You try to hold in your pouts, try to hold in your pleading, but if your clit goes any longer without getting relief you're going to lose your mind.

"Good." And then right as you're about to beg for him to touch you, the vibrator is thrust right on your clit with a strong unmoving pressure.

Your hips roll forward and you don't have time to think before you cry out and feel your orgasm come and go quicker than you can blink. The vibrations run deeply through your body and after waiting so long, you just couldn't hold on.

"Whoa. Record time." Jay smarts but keeps the vibrator on you.

As you come down it starts to feel uncomfortable. Overstimulation is not something you're able to have the patience or willpower for.

“You can keep going,” Jay encourages and increases the speed on the vibrator. You whimper and look at him anxiously as your whole body begins to tremble.

“Moan for me, baby. Don’t hide those pretty sounds from me.”

They’re not moans quite yet. It starts off as small gasps as your body desperately tries to adjust to the overstimulation, angry when it realizes it can’t. That’s when the tears prick your eyes. You try to be tough and hold on but you feel another orgasm being forced from your body and you cry out in pleasured agony.

Jay removes the vibrator mid orgasm and your muscles immediately collapse into the bed. Panting harder than a dog on a hot summer day, you truly hope that that was the sound he’s looking for.

“Hmmm...not quite…”

“Please, Jay. Let me help you come. Forget about the sound. Let's get you off so we can go back to sleep.” Your throat feels hoarse as you talk from lack of water or the intense screams and moans, you’re not sure. Perhaps a mixture of all of it. Either way, you’re tired and you wish you could help him, but this project seems like a lost cause.

“Rest for a second. I need to listen to something.” He moves quickly to his computer, putting his headphones on crooked and clicking away at the screen. Your body is too tired to watch what he’s doing.

A few moments pass before Jay stands up again and you notice a freshly lit cigarette in his hand.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I’ll untie you-” Jay pauses mid step and mid sentence and stares at the cigarette in his hand, quickly looking to your naked body, and then back at the cigarette.

"What's wrong?" You strain your head to try to meet his gaze but he's off in another world. His lips move as he mumbles lowly to himself, words incomprehensible to you from this far away. Taking a long drag from the cigarette, he holds in the smoke as he observes the cancer stick before walking closer to you. He’s sworn to quit so many times, but claims the nicotine helps him stay focused when he works on long projects. It’s not a favorable habit, but you just cannot deny how sexy he looks while taking a long drag from a cigarette and letting the smoke swirl out of his pretty lips. It fits his artistic rockstar image a little too well.

Finally you're able to catch: "that wouldn't be messed up...would it?"

"What wouldn't be messed up?" Annoyance is a nice way to put how you're feeling right now. You're just laying here, tied up and your boyfriend is only five feet away from you, completely ignoring your existence. Unfortunately he does this often; spacing out, talking to himself, unable to sense his surroundings. When it's music related it's admirable. When you're involved? Straight up annoying. But it’s even worse when the two are combined.

"I have...a crazy idea. Please let me know if it's too out there and we'll discard it immediately."

You gulp down what feels to be a big rock in your throat that doesn't want to be swallowed. His tone is cautious yet excited and he doesn't look you directly in the eyes but off to the side of your head.

"What is it?" You say slowly, wishing more than ever that you could sit up and talk to him face to face.

Jay brings his cigarette up in front of his face, his eyes concentrating hard on the object in front of him.

"I want to use the cigarette ash as a stimulant on you."

Immediately the first thing that comes to mind is 'what the actual fuck'. You've never heard of anyone using any part of cigarettes as a form of sexual pleasure. But then you let your mind breathe for a second and the idea sounds rather...arousing? Just the thought of Jay flicking his cigarette ash onto your body sounds so degrading and he usually doesn't dip in that direction sexually.

He's carefully watching your face now, looking for any sign that you're not on board with this.

You smile.

"Where on my body?" You say seductively. His eyes light up, that same sexual deviant smile back onto his face. Excitement is evident as his chest rises and falls at a quicker pace. And finally, finally, he walks towards you, that cigarette held loosely between his fingers.

His shadow casts over your midsection as he towers above you. One arm crosses his chest while his other arm, the one with the cigarette, rests on top. It looks like he's about to take another drag but stops himself just before it touches his lips.

"I was thinking...your nipples?"

Your mouth immediately starts to water and your legs involuntarily shift, wanting ever so badly to rub together. Suddenly you're hyper aware of how hard your nipples are. They're like little gumdrops resting on top of your breasts and when you close your eyes you can still feel the wetness of Jay's tongue as he swirled his tongue around them.

Most people use candle wax or ice cubes as nipple stimulants.

But then again, you and Jay aren't most people.

"Please. Do it." Eagerly, you roll your hips forward and jut your chest forward towards him. A deep hunger is rooted in his eyes as he takes a quick huff, blowing the smoke up towards the ceiling before climbing onto the bed. Your heart is beating fast and hard in your chest as you wait for him to make his next move.

Jay’s cock twitches back to life, a newfound surge of want coursing through his veins while your body reacts the same. He quickly checks to make sure his microphone is still on and then puts the cigarette between his lips. He gives himself a quick pump as he moves closer to your body.

Forget the cigarette ash, you think to yourself. You want him.

And he apparently wants you too.

Jay’s hands move expeditiously down the sides of your body, running over your hips and down your thighs as he positions himself between your legs. He uses the head of his cock to rub against your swollen clit, your hips bucking with the sudden contact. Unlike previously, Jay is in no mood to take his time. After rubbing up and down your folds a few times, he uses your slick as lubrication and promptly inserts himself into your hole. He grunts deeply as he bottoms out and you’re left gasping as your body adjusts to his size. Jay rests his chin on top of your head as he breathes heavily around the cigarette hanging crooked in his mouth, away from your hair. The smoke wafts around you and slightly burns your nostrils but you love it.

He’s addicted to cigarettes.

You’re addicted to him.

After giving himself a moment, Jay finally starts to move, rocking his hips slowly back and forth to generate some momentum. A deep moan gurgles from the back of his throat and you can see in his eyes how difficult it is for him to hold himself back.

The air in the room gets stuffy with the heat of your bodies mixed in with the smoke. It makes you both pant harder, faster.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Jay growls and sits back, his cock unfortunately slipping out of you. He takes your legs and sets your feet against his shoulders and realigns himself with your entrance. Without giving you both time to adjust, he slams deep within you, your body jolting in response as he hits your sensitive spot.

“Fuck!” He yells and quickens his pace, his cock relentlessly filling every inch of space within you. Small whimpers move past your lips and a fire lights behind Jay’s eyes.

“What was that? I can’t hear you?” As his hips continue to rock into you, he grabs the microphone off the top of the headboard and shoves it in your face. With his other hand he takes a drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side before leaning down, hovering the cigarette a few inches above one of your nipples.

You look up at him hopefully and you’re open to tell him it’s okay when he taps his pointer finger on top of the cigarette, gray ash tumbling down towards your body.

“Ah!” You exclaim as the ash hits the peak of your breast. The initial impact of the ash to your skin makes your body panic, completely unused to the sensation. But then, it feels erotic. The nerves in your nipples sing with pleasure and your back arches as the warmth sinks deeply into you. You watch as your breasts bounce with each thrust Jay gives you and the ash rolls down onto your chest.

He continues thrusting and taking drags from his cigarette despite looking winded and exhausted. The headboard bangs against the wall, mirroring the thunder still booming in the distance. Soft groans and moans fill the room until Jay pushes your legs closer to your face, going deeper inside of you.

“Dear god your pussy is just too good. You’re still so wet after everything else. Always wet for my cock aren’t you?” His thrusts are getting longer, sloppier.

“Always. I love your cock,” you exhaustedly whisper. You can feel that coil deep inside you wanting to unspring so badly and only Jay can get you there.

He takes a final drag from his cigarette and flicks the biggest chunk of ash towards your nipple. You moan out as it makes contact at the same time the tip of his cock kisses deeply against your cervix, a high pitched moan that makes your eyes roll backwards.

And then he presses his thumb on top of your nipple, smearing the ash on top of you and right as he does it he thrusts so hard and deeply into you and holds himself there.

“F-uh-uck!” You sputter out the mother of all moans as your orgasm rips through you making you see a bright flash of white.

“Oh shit!” Jay grunts and thick ropes of cum spill inside you.

You both take a moment to regain your breaths. Then Jay removes your legs from his shoulders, setting you down gently and fully removing himself from you. He moves to his desk and puts his cigarette butt into the ashtray and his microphone next to the keyboard. He takes a moment and places his fists behind his back right at his hip bones and leans back until a satisfying crack sounds out through the room.

Jay looks back at you with complete adoration in his eyes, a natural smile forming on his lips as he puckers them to give you an air kiss. Promptly untying you from your restraints, he rubs small circles into your wrists after he frees you, the pressure soothing your aching joints.

“I love you,” he mutters tenderly and places a kiss on top of your forehead.

“I love you too.” You smile.

He gets up and heads to the bathroom while you remain on the bed. You hear the bath turn on and run rapidly and the sound makes you feel the sleep wanting to pull you back in. You can't feel your thighs or any part of your lower half for that matter, but yet your muscles still tremble from the overwhelming aftermath of your multiple orgasms. Gazing upward, the white ceiling looks so dull above you and yet, somehow, comforting. Your mind instinctively tries to find pictures within the grooves but it proves to be too much work for your brain right now. So you go back to just staring absentmindedly. Jay is saying something from the bathroom but your brain is too tired to focus on what it was he was saying exactly. Body still trembling, you close your eyes and will for sleep to take you.

But then hands are on your body, lifting your head off the pillow. And then you're being carried, your body feeling weightless. You groan out for your bed, wanting nothing more than to be completely buried in blankets as sleep overcomes you.

The bathroom light has been dimmed and some of your favorite scented candles are lit on the counter. An aroma of lemon and rose petals waft throughout the room. You breathe in deeply through your nose and sigh out of your mouth, your body melting in your boyfriend's arms.

Jay gently places your feet on the mat in front of the freestanding soaking bathtub. There's mountains of bubbles already rising on top of the water and you can't wait to sink down into it.

Jay uses his hand to grip your elbow, guiding you as you put one foot in the water and then the other.

You sit up front where the faucet is dumping soothing warm water. You put your hands together and let the stream pool into your palms and run over your skin. This is total bliss and your aching muscles begin to relax happily.

Water splashes behind you and you turn around to see Jay getting into the bath as well. You smile at him before turning back around and picking up a handful of bubbles.

"What shampoo do you want? The good smelly one or the deep clean one?" Jay holds both bottles in either hand, looking back and forth between the two.

You look back at him and tiredly try to decide. The “good smelly one” is peach while the deep cleaning one is a tea tree extract.

"Would it be weird if I combined both? It honestly might be really good." He awaits your input.

"Both are fine." You nod your head and turn back to the front. You turn off the water and lay your arms over both edges of the tub.

Gentle hands run down your hair from the top of your head down to the tips before returning to your scalp. His fingers massage the shampoos into your head and a low wistful grumble escapes your throat. You feel the shampoo lathering in your hair and the way Jay's fingers move with purpose has you closing your eyes in pure bliss. He uses the pads of his fingers to massage deeply into your skull, nearly lulling you to sleep.

His hands leave your hair and you hear the clicking of another cap opening and then it clicks shut a moment after. His hands are back on your body but this time they're on your shoulders. A strong lavender smell enters your nostrils and it dawns on you that he's massaging your soothing body wash into your skin.

It's silent in the bathroom except for the small droplets of water tinkling from the faucet into the tub. It's not an eerie silence, it's almost tranquil.

You spend a bit more time in the bathtub together. Jay completely taking care of you to wash off every trace of cigarette ash that was left on your body. His hands soothingly rub alongst every inch of your body.

“I’m ready to get out,” you sigh. You’re leaning against Jay’s chest, his bare skin comforting against your own, “before I completely fall asleep in here.”

“Okay. Let me get out first and grab your towel.” He attentively lifts your body forward to give himself some room to emerge from the bath. Water runs off his body and onto the tile floor as he crosses the room for his towel first. You pull the drain plug in the bath and watch as a tiny whirlpool appears.

After aggressively rubbing the towel in his hair, Jay wraps it around his waist to cover himself, his hair looking static as it sticks out in every which way. He grabs you a fresh towel from the cupboard, the fluffy white one you usually save for special self care relaxation days.

Padding his way back over to you, he drapes the white towel in both of his arms and holds it out, waiting to envelope you in it once you step out.

You stand up slowly, clutching the edges of the tub as you push yourself up. Your legs are still quite shaky. For the most part they still feel pretty numb. You lift one leg up carefully and find your footing on the tile before gingerly taking out your other leg. Jay wraps you tightly in the soft towel that could honestly be a blanket if one chose to do so. You sigh into it, your muscles relaxing as Jay dries you off.

“Let’s get you to bed. We can watch a movie.” After he says it, Jay pauses to look at you. Afraid that something is on your face, your hand touches your cheek questionably. He reaches up and moves his hand under yours so that he’s cupping your cheek, his thumb tracing softly against your cheekbone.

“I love you,” he says softly before leaning in and kissing your lips. As soon as your lips touch it feels like you’re melting into him all over again. And all too soon, the kiss is over.

Swiftly, he picks you up bridal style and carries you to bed as you giggle and cling to his neck. He lightly places you back onto the bed and pulls back the covers and quickly throws them over your body once you’re comfortable. Jay adjusts your pillow to make sure your head stays straight and makes sure every one of your toes is snuggled and warm before handing you the TV remote and then walking towards the door.

“What snack do you want?” He calls from the door frame, his hand lightly brushing against the soft pastel yellow paint.

“Surprise me!” You call as you flip through the different genre suggestions, your brain not even registering what the titles are.

After giving up and picking a random movie, Jay walks in with some water bottles and a bag of pretzels and climbs into bed next to you.

“Don’t you want to get back to your music?” You inquire as you grab a handful of pretzels. He gets himself comfortable next to you by adjusting his pillow, grabbing a fistful of pretzels himself once he’s done.

“Nah. That can wait. I just want to be here with you.” He smiles before popping a piece of the tasty snack into his mouth.

Your heart swells knowing how much he wants to be back in that chair working his magic. Normally you couldn’t drag him away from that stupid computer. So you don’t push it and snuggle in deeper next to him, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

Together you munch away, forgetting about sleep entirely, and listening as the thunder grumbles in the distance.

a/n: thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed :] if you did please reblog and leave a comment!

♡ masterlist

#jay smut #enhypen jay #enhypen jay smut #jay x reader #jay x you #jay x y/n #jay hard hours #jay hard thoughts #park jongseong #jongseong smut #jay #jay oneshot #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #jay fic #enhypen fic #boyfriend jay

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faebled-stories · 22 days ago

Text

Finding True Beauty

Kinkvember Day 4: Mirror Sex

Park Jihyo x Male reader

AN: I really adore this photo, It fits so well and she looks absolutely stunning

Jihyo had always felt the weight of expectations pressing down on her, unyielding and relentless. In Korea, beauty was revered to an almost mythic degree—a cultural ideal that demanded flawlessness, leaving little room for individuality. It wasn’t just about looking good; it was about embodying perfection, fitting neatly into a mold that felt impossible to achieve. Living in this reality, she spent her life feeling like an outsider, always just short of the ideal.

Billboards and magazine covers showcased faces with flawless skin, bodies that seemed more sculpted than human, impossibly slender and toned. She knew, logically, that many of those images were enhanced, that even those models weren’t perfect in real life. But logic didn’t ease the ache. The pressure she felt wasn’t only social; it was deeply internal, a voice that echoed with every glance in the mirror, whispering, “Not enough.”

Jihyo had done her best to fit the mold, adopting a skincare routine so meticulous it consumed her evenings, each cream and serum a silent plea to feel closer to the ideal. She followed strict diets, counting calories, always conscious of her figure. Even though her natural build was curvier than the thin bodies praised in magazines, she was constantly trying to slim down, to soften her edges, hoping one day she’d look in the mirror and feel like she belonged.

But no amount of dieting or creams could erase her natural curves, and her chest—fuller than most—often felt like a burden. She knew others saw her figure as attractive, yet she couldn’t shake the discomfort it brought her. Sometimes, she’d catch herself staring longingly at the clothes in store windows, delicate dresses and slim-fit tops that seemed to be designed for someone else. On other women, they looked effortless, perfect. On her, they stretched awkwardly, pulling tight across her chest in a way that made her feel out of place. No matter how she adjusted her posture or tried different sizes, those clothes never felt quite right.

And there were the comments. The lingering glances from strangers, the sly remarks from acquaintances, and especially the words from men who seemed to think her curves were an invitation. Compliments rarely felt complimentary; instead, they left her feeling exposed, as if her body were the only part of her that mattered.

In her most vulnerable moments, Jihyo found herself retreating, creating a barrier between herself and the world. She’d wear loose clothing, hiding her form beneath baggy sweaters and oversized coats, each piece carefully chosen to let her slip unnoticed into the background. The fabric became her shield, a buffer against curious glances and unspoken judgments. There were days she wished she could disappear completely, blend into the crowd without a single gaze finding her.

At home, she rarely ventured near mirrors, looking away from reflections that felt like harsh reminders of everything she felt was wrong, everything she couldn’t change. The mirror seemed to amplify her perceived flaws, highlighting the parts that felt too different from what she imagined beauty to be. Even a quick glimpse of her own face or body sparked a familiar pang—a longing to be smaller, softer, to have the delicate features she thought the world admired. Each time, she’d feel herself shrink inside, as though her very presence were too much, her reflection a sight unworthy of admiration.

Yet, beneath those pangs of self-doubt lay something else—a glimmer of yearning that refused to disappear. She wanted to see herself differently, to look in the mirror and find beauty staring back at her. Part of her longed to shed those layers, to one day strip away the loose clothing and stand openly, seeing herself as more than her insecurities. Still, that dream felt distant, like a hazy mirage on the edge of her vision, just out of reach.

This quiet, unspoken longing stayed with her, hovering in the back of her mind, whispering that there was more to be found beneath the layers she used to shield herself. It was as if a part of her knew that her reflection held a depth she had yet to discover—that beyond the clothes, beyond the guarded glances, lay a woman capable of seeing her own beauty, of embracing her own strength.

But for now, she pushed the thought aside, choosing the comfort of concealment. Yet even in these hidden moments, a faint desire lingered—a hope that one day she could look into her reflection unafraid, finding acceptance and maybe even beauty.

These insecurities shadowed her into intimate moments as well. She could never fully let go, fearing that any of her partners would silently compare her to an idealized version of beauty. The fear gnawed at her, holding her back from fully embracing her desires. In those moments, she couldn’t help feeling betrayed by her own body, as though it were keeping her from the experience others seemed to find so effortlessly.

One night, feeling restless and weary from her own thoughts, Jihyo found herself alone in her apartment, scrolling aimlessly through a website filled with romance and erotica novels. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for—maybe a distraction, maybe a world far removed from her own. She just needed to escape, to silence the internal dialogue that repeated on loop, reminding her of everything she thought she wasn’t.

A story caught her eye, a tale of a woman’s journey to self-confidence. Intrigued, she clicked on it, drawn to the description of a protagonist who found her beauty not in someone else’s gaze but in her own. It was an unfamiliar idea—finding worth, finding beauty, without needing validation from someone else. She read on, her curiosity sharpening.

As Jihyo delved into the story, she found herself captivated. The protagonist wasn’t flawless; she struggled with body image just as much as Jihyo did. Yet there was something extraordinary about the woman’s journey, the way she slowly reclaimed her confidence by seeing herself through new eyes. It wasn’t a partner who helped her—it was her own gaze, her own acceptance.

The most powerful scene lingered in Jihyo’s mind, describing how the woman used mirrors to confront her reflection, watching herself from every angle as she explored her body. There was no shame, only an unfiltered appreciation of her curves, her shape, the way her body moved. The protagonist allowed herself to see the beauty in what she’d always considered flaws, to find grace in the moments she’d once avoided. It was a complete reversal of everything Jihyo had felt, and the idea left her breathless.

She read the passage again and again, her heart racing as she tried to imagine doing the same. Could she really use mirrors to look at herself with that same gentle gaze, to confront her own insecurities and find beauty in her own body? Could she bring herself to face her reflection without feeling that familiar discomfort, without the weight of shame?

The thought was both terrifying and exciting. It would mean standing before herself, unclothed and vulnerable, allowing every curve, every flaw, to come into full view. But if the woman in the story could do it, maybe she could too. Maybe it wasn’t about changing anything but about shifting her perspective, seeing herself in a light that allowed room for acceptance and even love.

That night, as she lay in bed, Jihyo couldn’t stop thinking about the mirrors. She could almost picture herself standing in front of them, the soft light catching the lines of her figure, casting shadows that highlighted her natural curves. The idea made her pulse quicken, a rush of anticipation mingling with her nerves. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, that it might be painful at first to face herself so honestly. But the thought lingered, insistent, tugging at something deep within her that longed for release from the weight of constant comparison.

In that moment, she made a promise to herself: one day, she would stand in front of a mirror and see herself as something beautiful. Not because she was flawless, but because she was real. Because she was enough.

Jihyo closed her eyes, and for the first time in a long while, her heart felt lighter. She didn’t know how long it would take, but she felt a spark of hope—a small, precious ember that maybe, just maybe, she could learn to see herself through kinder eyes.

The thought lingered with her long after she set the book aside. It wasn’t just the story that captivated her but the idea of seeing herself fully, without judgment, without filters. What would it be like to stand in front of a mirror and not automatically focus on flaws or imperfections, but on the beauty in each line and curve? Her mind swirled with the possibilities, turning over an idea that felt equal parts thrilling and terrifying. For once, her fantasies didn’t involve someone else—they revolved around her, a vision of discovering her own body and beauty on her terms.

That night, a strange mix of curiosity and nervousness pulsing within her, Jihyo decided to try it. Pulling a small mirror from her drawer, she set it by her bedside, feeling a bit self-conscious. The mirror was small, only able to capture fragments of her, but that seemed fitting—a tentative first step. Slowly, she undressed, her heart racing as she slid beneath the sheets, both eager and hesitant. Her eyes flitted between the mirror and her body, unsure of what she’d see or feel, unsure if this would unlock something within her or merely deepen her insecurities.

As she lay back, the coolness of the sheets sharp against her skin, her hands moved tentatively, her fingertips grazing her collarbone, her curves, the softness of her thighs. A gentle shiver ran through her, and her eyes fixed on the mirror, seeing only pieces of herself—the arch of her neck, the swell of her chest, a hand tracing the curve of her hip. The mirror reflected these moments, capturing a quiet intimacy that she wasn’t accustomed to sharing, even with herself.

The sensation was undeniably alluring, her breathing quickening as her hands moved more freely, each touch intensifying the connection between her mind and body. But as her pleasure built, she found herself distracted. The small mirror offered only glimpses, incomplete flashes that couldn’t fully capture the experience. Even as waves of pleasure washed over her, a deeper yearning remained—the desire to see herself completely, to confront every insecurity, every aspect she had avoided for so long.

The realization struck her hard: she needed to see all of herself, every angle, every detail, without hiding. The mirror had given her a taste, but it wasn’t enough. She yearned for a space where she could truly explore, where her reflection could reveal her without judgment.

Suddenly, a memory surfaced—a flash of an ad she’d seen a few weeks earlier while online shopping. It had been one of those pop-ups, something she’d quickly close or scroll past, but now the words came back clearly. It was for a place called The Pleasure Paradise Hotel. Her pulse quickened as she hurriedly pulled out her phone and found the hotel’s website. The tagline read, “Where every fantasy blooms in paradise.” She chuckled at the phrasing but clicked on the “Fantasies” tab.

And there it was, nestled among the long lists of fantasies: the Mirror Rooms. The description made her breath catch, detailing spaces crafted for self-exploration, adorned with mirrors that reflected every part of her from every angle, allowing for a judgment-free discovery of self. This was precisely what she had been craving—a sanctuary where she could be alone with her reflection, liberated from the societal expectations that weighed so heavily on her.

Her hand hovered for only a moment before she clicked the “Book Now” button, her nerves quickly overtaken by a rush of excitement as she filled in her information. After a moment, a confirmation screen appeared, thanking her for choosing the Pleasure Paradise Hotel.

The day of her booking arrived faster than she’d anticipated. Entering the luxurious lobby, Jihyo felt a blend of anticipation and nerves. The hotel exuded a quiet elegance, with soft lighting, subtle hints of jasmine, and decor that made the space feel intimate and indulgent. Her heart raced as she approached the front desk, where a poised woman greeted her with a warm, professional smile.

“Good evening. Welcome to the Pleasure Paradise Hotel. How may I assist you today?” the receptionist asked, her tone calm and reassuring.

Jihyo hesitated briefly, lowering her voice. “Hi, I… I’ve booked a stay in one of the Mirror Rooms,” she said, glancing around to ensure no one else could hear.

The receptionist’s smile deepened knowingly. “Ah, the Mirror Rooms,” she said, her voice laced with understanding. “A popular choice for guests looking to explore and connect with themselves more intimately. We offer a few packages, each designed to provide a unique experience.”

Jihyo’s hands fidgeted slightly, the receptionist’s gentle confidence helping to ease her tension as she listened.

“Our first option is a private experience,” the receptionist continued, gesturing toward a sleek tablet on the counter. “In this package, you’ll have the room entirely to yourself, with mirrors arranged to let you see yourself from every possible angle, creating a safe space to explore your desires alone. It’s very popular for first-time guests.”

Jihyo nodded, intrigued, but a faint restlessness lingered—something told her she needed more than just the mirrors. She wanted something deeper, though she wasn’t yet certain what that might be.

“Our second option,” the receptionist went on, “is similar to the first, but you may bring up to five partners to accompany you, giving you the chance to share your experience with others, if that’s something you’d like.”

Jihyo nodded again, appreciating the variety but feeling a stronger pull toward exploring alone, without an audience. The thought of including others felt premature. She wanted the experience to feel wholly her own.

“And finally,” the receptionist said, her smile widening ever so slightly, “we offer a guided experience. Here, you’re joined by a professional guide who assists in your exploration, offering support, guidance, and whatever level of interaction you’re comfortable with.”

“A guide?” Jihyo’s voice was a soft whisper, barely audible.

“Yes,” the receptionist confirmed, turning the tablet toward her. “Should you choose the guided experience, you can select from a gallery of experienced guides, each highly trained to ensure that your experience is everything you desire. Whether you’re seeking gentle encouragement or someone to help you delve deeper, there’s a guide to match your preference.”

She tapped the screen, bringing up the gallery of guides. The display featured a diverse array of men and women, each with their own unique energy. Some wore inviting, gentle smiles, while others gazed intently at the camera with a more intense, brooding expression. Each image seemed to convey a distinct presence, as if each guide held a different key to unlocking the experience.

Jihyo’s gaze lingered as she took in the faces on the screen. Some were soft and nurturing, others exuding strength and confidence, each inviting her into a different possible experience. She felt the tension between choosing solitude and allowing someone else to witness her vulnerability, to help her confront her insecurities in a way that felt both terrifying and thrilling.

Then, her eyes fell on one photo—a man with an aura of quiet confidence that stood out from the rest. He wasn’t overly posed; he looked relaxed, a calm strength in his features softened by a warm, genuine smile. Something about the ease in his posture and the spark of curiosity in his eyes made her heart skip. He looked approachable yet held an unmistakable air of control, someone who could help her feel both seen and safe.

Underneath the photo, your name appeared.

A quiet thrill shot through her as she clicked to read his profile, each detail deepening her intrigue.

“He seems…” Jihyo began, her voice trailing as her gaze lingered on the photo of the man she’d chosen.

The receptionist smiled knowingly, sensing her indecision melt into interest. “He’s one of our most popular guides,” she explained warmly. “He has a gift for making guests feel at ease. Intuitive, patient, and incredibly thoughtful, adapting to whatever you need—whether it’s gentle guidance or firm direction. He’s here to help you explore at your own pace.”

Jihyo swallowed, feeling a new spark of excitement flare in her chest. A sense of reassurance steadied her as she nodded. “I think… I’d like him,” she replied, her voice soft but resolute.

“An excellent choice,” the receptionist confirmed, tapping a few buttons on the tablet. “your guide will meet you directly in your room. If you wish to adjust the experience or set any new boundaries, just let him know. His sole focus is on your comfort and fulfillment.”

Jihyo nodded, feeling both reassured and anticipatory. The idea of having a guide through this exploration—someone attuned to her desires and limitations—was thrilling yet calming. Somehow, it felt right.

“I’ll take care of everything else. You can head up to your room whenever you’re ready,” the receptionist said, handing her a sleek key card and a small, discreet goodie bag. Inside, she found tiny bottles of lube and a couple of condoms. “And remember, this is your experience. You’re in control of how it unfolds. If you need anything replenished, just call the front desk.”

As she headed toward the elevator, her heart raced. Her decision was clear now; she was ready to step into this unknown space of self-discovery.

The room was exactly as advertised, but the reality of it was more powerful than she’d imagined. Four mirrors framed the bed, each offering a unique angle. But it was the ceiling mirror that drew her attention, catching her off guard. A surge of vulnerability washed over her, seeing herself reflected from so many sides, so exposed and open. Yet with that vulnerability came an undeniable power—a sensation of strength in being fully seen, even if only by herself. She let herself take in the room slowly, breathing in the potential it held, the beauty of the setup that invited her to confront herself completely.

“Hello, Ms. Jihyo. I’ll be your guide this evening,” you say, your tone friendly, though your gaze holds a depth, a quiet intrigue that mirrors her own emotions. Her cheeks flush as the experience becomes tangible, their connection palpable.

With calm confidence, you enter the room, carefully closing the door behind. “Have you done something like this before?” you ask, your voice gentle and curious, free of any judgment.

Jihyo shakes her head, her own voice barely a whisper. “Just Jihyo is fine… and no. I’ve thought about it, but… I haven’t gone this far.”

A soft smile crosses your lips. “Curiosity is a wonderful place to begin.” Moving with unhurried grace, you gesture toward the mirrors surrounding her. “This space is yours to explore, to experience however you choose. There’s no rush, no expectations. I’m here solely to support you.”

The warmth in your voice deepens the intimacy of the moment, your presence both soothing and emboldening. As you move around the room, adjusting the lighting and taking subtle cues from her, Jihyo feels ease settle over her, tension gradually dissipating. The mirrors no longer feel like mere reflections; they become invitations—portals into her own depth, her own truth.

Taking a steadying breath, Jihyo reaches for the edge of her clothing. She hesitates, fingers hovering as she catches her reflection in the mirror. Slowly, she begins to undress, her movements almost tentative, as if each piece removed exposes more than just skin. Her gaze remains fixed on the mirror, her eyes tracing the curves and lines of her body with a mixture of scrutiny and reluctance. There’s an involuntary judgment in her stare, her expression tinged with dissatisfaction as she examines each perceived flaw with a familiar, critical eye.

As she glances at the reflection beside her, she notices you undressing in the background, your movements natural and unguarded. Your frame, by contrast, seems to fit easily within the accepted ideals she’s grown accustomed to seeing, adding a new layer to her own self-consciousness. A quiet comparison arises, unbidden, and she finds herself thinking how effortlessly you seem to belong in your own skin. Her shoulders stiffen slightly, insecurities whispering reminders of all the ways she feels she doesn’t measure up, each perceived flaw amplified as she stands there exposed.

She shifts slightly, as if hoping another angle might soften the imperfections she’s focused on. Yet, she allows herself to remain fully bare, lingering in the vulnerability despite the discomfort that rises within her. She feels the weight of her own self-consciousness, and though the impulse to cover herself hovers, she resists it, reminding herself that here, in this space, she doesn’t have to hide.

Still, the unease doesn’t quite fade. Her eyes remain cautious, holding onto traces of the self-doubt she can’t seem to shake. The familiar instinct to take control tugs at her, but there is another part—hidden, quieter, and long-buried—that yearns for release, to feel what it might be like to let go, to be seen as she is.

“Can you… take the lead?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, soft with uncertainty.

You meet her gaze with understanding, your expression gentle and reassuring. “Of course,” you reply, reaching out to touch her shoulder with a steadying presence. “Let me guide you. You’re safe here. Just relax and be exactly as you are.”

Her heart pounds as she nods, releasing her defenses for the first time in a long while. As you move behind her, hands tracing gently along her sides, Jihyo turns her attention to the mirrors. In their reflections, she sees herself in a new way—open, vulnerable, fully visible from every angle. A tremor of anticipation runs through her, magnified by the warmth of your touch, which sends ripples of sensation down her spine.

Each movement is deliberate, a steady rhythm allowing her to lose herself in the feeling. Your fingertips skim over her shoulders and down her arms, grounding her in the present, reconnecting her with her own body. She watches, captivated, as you guide her, your touch both tender and commanding, knowing exactly where to linger, allowing her to ease into herself.

Her breath quickens as you continue, each touch more intentional than the last. Glancing from one mirror to another, she sees her own body reflected from every angle. The ceiling mirror above captures her in the most vulnerable, raw view possible. Seeing herself like this makes her heart race, each angle revealing parts of herself she’d never fully embraced.

With every trace of your fingers across her skin, her breath hitches, anticipation building. The sound of her own shallow breaths, the sensation of your presence, and the reflections encircling her all merge into a heady, intoxicating mix. Every sigh, every subtle movement, mirrored back to her—a tangible reminder of her own beauty, her own strength.

The intimacy of the moment deepens, warmth spreading through her with each gentle touch, every lingering look at her reflection. You adjust her posture ever so slightly, positioning her to meet her own gaze from every angle. There is no hiding, no escape from the image of the woman staring back—her beauty raw, her presence powerful and real.

Each touch, each mirrored glimpse, becomes a quiet yet profound invitation for her to embrace herself fully, to revel in a beauty she’d often overlooked. The control she so often held onto now slips away, leaving only the freedom to feel, to see herself as she truly is. With you there, guiding her with a steady hand and calming presence, the weight of expectation and insecurity begins to dissolve, replaced by a deep sense of acceptance she has rarely felt.

The tension between you grows, thickening the air with anticipation. You slide your body onto the bed, beckoning her to sit Infront of you, Jihyo slowly gets on the soft sheets and leans her back on your chest.

Your hands move with practiced precision, each touch making her skin feel like it’s coming alive beneath you. Starting at her hips, your fingers brush lightly along her thighs, stirring a subtle ache that resonates deep within. You trace upward, skimming the sensitive inner thigh, your fingers moving closer to her center but stopping just short, building her anticipation with every teasing pass.

Your fingers drift to the edge of her folds, each movement languid and measured—never quite giving her what she wants, but keeping her hanging on each touch. You press the pad of your thumb over her clit in a slow, circular motion, firm enough to draw her hips forward, her body instinctively urging you to go further. But you don’t rush; your touch expertly coaxes her reactions, guiding her to match your rhythm. The gentle circles over her clit send waves of pleasure through her, a steady pulse that grows with each pass of your hand.

Her breath quickens, her fingers curling as she sinks into the pleasure you weave around her, the tension winding tight within her as you keep her on edge. Your eyes meet hers in the mirror again, your gaze holding a subtle command, urging her to comply. “Look at yourself,” you murmur, with a tone low and warm. “See how beautiful you are.”

As she gazes into the mirror, her reflection captivates her. Her cheeks are flushed, a deep rosy hue that contrasts beautifully with her soft skin, her breath quickening as she watches the way her body responds to your every touch. There is an aura of pure bliss surrounding her, a glow that highlights the ecstatic expression on her face. The way her chest rises and falls, the subtle arch of her back, all blend into a portrait of surrender that sends a thrill through her. It’s a sight that makes her pulse race, the beauty of the moment wrapping around her like a warm embrace.

With practiced patience, one hand travels up her side, pausing just below her chest. You meet her gaze in the reflection again, fingers ghosting over her skin. “May I?” you ask, your breath warm against her neck. A shiver runs through her, and she replies, breathless and quick, “Yes,” her voice trembling with eagerness.

With her permission, your hand slips over her breast, your touch firm yet gentle, sending sparks across her skin. The other hand remains at her core, circling slowly, pressing just enough to make her hips tilt toward you. Your mouth traces a line along her neck, your breath hot just behind her ear, unraveling her composure further. Her breaths grow faster, soft and uneven, each exhale mingling with the quiet hum of the room, enclosing you both in your own world.

Your hands work in tandem, the deliberate squeeze and tug on her breast blending with the rhythmic pressure below. Her mind grows hazy with need as you hold her close, every movement perfectly timed to her building tension. Her fingers tangle in the fabric beneath her, grounding herself as she climbs higher, each sensation building on the last.

Finally, with the combination of your hand possessively gripping her chest, the other pressing into her core, and your lips igniting her neck, her climax surges. It begins as a slow, shivering wave, rising from her center and spreading outward, consuming her in pulses that leave her breathless. Her back arches, pressing into you as the tension within her snaps, transforming into a raw, rolling pleasure that seems to echo through every inch of her body.

Her gaze stays locked on the reflection, and as she watches herself surrender, it amplifies everything—the sight of her flushed cheeks, the quiver of her parted lips, the rise and fall of her chest. The intensity of watching her own body unfold in pleasure makes her climax feel endless, a powerful rush that pulls her deeper with each second. Her hips buck in need, her fingers clutching at the fabric beneath her, grounding herself as she rides each wave. She can’t look away; the vulnerability and beauty of her reflection hold her captive, amplifying the sensation, making her feel as if she’s both inside her body and observing herself from a distance, awash in her own surrender.

As her breathing steadies, she looks back at the mirrors, feeling a newfound determination stirring within. This experience was hers to claim. Meeting your gaze in the mirror, her expression shifts, her resolve clear. “I want to take the lead this time,” she whispers, her voice steady with newfound confidence.

A smile of admiration softens your expression, your eyes alight with encouragement. “Then take it,” you reply gently, leaning back to give her the space to step into her own power. “This is your room, Jihyo. It’s yours to explore.”

A pulse of excitement thrums through her as she positions herself over you, her legs framing your hips, her posture upright and commanding. Facing away, with her gaze fixed on the mirrors in front of her, she’s fully absorbed in the view—a woman confident, unashamed, with every angle of her form magnified in the glass surrounding her. For the first time, she feels the full thrill of being in control, the power in shaping her own pleasure. The image is intoxicating, each movement captured from all sides, revealing a beauty she’d rarely allowed herself to see.

With a shared, silent understanding, she lifts herself slightly, giving you the space to reach for protection. You slip on a condom as she steadies herself, her breath quickening with anticipation. She then takes you in her hand, guiding herself, and slowly lowering her hips, placing your length inside. A shallow gasp escapes her lips as her eyes remain on the mirror while she moves, watching herself take control and savoring every second of the connection.

She begins to move, her hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm that sends shivers of sensation through her, intensifying with each shift and sway. Every part of her feels alive, attuned to the heat building between you, her body becoming the focal point, the center of her awareness. Each curve, every subtle arch of her back, every sway of her hips is captured in the mirrors that surround her. She feels more real, more tangible, than she ever has before.

Her movements grow more purposeful, a quiet confidence driving her, deepening with each slow, deliberate motion. Her breath quickens as she watches herself, captivated by the image in the mirrors—a vision bathed in warm, golden hues that soften her form while enhancing the allure in every line and curve. The room’s gentle lighting casts her skin in a rich glow, accentuating the lines of her body, the sweep of her shoulders, the strength in her arms. She sees herself with newfound respect, a fierce ownership over her form that feels both freeing and grounding. In each reflection, she doesn’t just see her body; she sees the strength she’s beginning to claim as her own. Yet in the end, it’s her eyes, focused and unwavering, that hold her attention the most, her gaze fierce, filled with intent.

A soft groan escapes from you beneath her, your hands resting lightly on her hips, grounding her yet allowing her the freedom to move. She feels your admiration, senses it in the subtle tension of your grip, in the way your gaze never leaves her. You look at her with awe, but she realizes the most powerful gaze in the room is her own.

“You’re absolutely stunning, Jihyo,” you murmur, your voice warm with admiration. “Look at you—so strong, so beautiful.”

A soft flush blooms on her cheeks, but your words only heighten her awareness of herself, fueling the desire pulsing steadily within. She can feel it now—the raw beauty of her control, the unfiltered confidence that has blossomed from the moment she took the lead. The mirrors don’t just reflect her body; they show her strength, her self-assuredness, qualities she has only begun to embrace. Each roll of her hips, every deliberate shift, feels like an assertion of her power, each soft gasp a quiet acknowledgment of her own beauty.

Her rhythm intensifies, movements growing faster as her body responds eagerly, the tension building low and insistent in her belly. Fingers gripping your legs for balance, she leans into the sensation, chasing the release that feels tantalizingly close, riding the wave of pleasure that surges through her with every motion. She can feel it all—the heat, the friction, all blending into a heady mix that sweeps her closer to the edge.

Lost in the rhythm, her head tilts back, and her gaze catches the ceiling mirror. She had nearly forgotten it, too absorbed by the other reflections, but now, seeing herself from above—a fresh angle highlighting the curves of her breasts, the strength in her posture, every movement purposeful and commanding—sends a shockwave of pleasure through her. The image is almost overwhelming. She looks powerful, entirely in control, moving with an instinctive grace as she rises toward her climax.

The sight is intoxicating, and in that moment, her breath catches, her body tensing as the release finally surges forward, consuming her. “Oh—yes,” she gasps, her voice trembling as the waves of pleasure hit her with full force. “I'm gonna cum... Yes! I'm cumming!,” she screams, her words slipping out in between each pulse, each wave of bliss that crashes through her. Her muscles tighten, her voice rising as the sensations build, and she lets out a cry, unrestrained, raw. Her eyes stay locked on the mirror, watching as her face softens in pleasure, her body quivering, her back arching as she succumbs to the intensity.

The sensation deepens, amplifying as her reflection stares back, grounding her in the sheer power of her release. Her lips part as a moan escapes, her body trembling under the force of the climax, every inch of her alive with sensation. She feels herself unraveling, yet within that unraveling is a new, unity with herself, a reclaiming of every part of her. The image in the mirror transforms her, revealing a woman fully unbound, lost in the depth of her own ecstasy, her pleasure radiating outward in waves.

As the final tremors ebb, she falls backwards, her body softening, surrendering as she relaxes against you. Her heartbeat echoes through her chest, her breath slowing in soft gasps as she lets the experience settle around her. She lies still for a moment, savoring the fullness of what she has just felt, the echoes of pleasure still vibrating through her, lingering in her limbs, in the hum of her skin.

The mirror has revealed something far beyond beauty—it has shown her strength, her vulnerability, her raw, unfettered power. She has taken control, and in doing so, she sees herself with a clarity that transcends simple reflection. She isn’t just a body; she is a woman of immense power, a woman capable of holding her own beauty with reverence.

A soft smile tugs at her lips as she lets the last of her tension dissolve, her body still alive with the remnants of her climax. She feels incredible. In this quiet, profound moment, Jihyo knows that she has stepped into a new version of herself, one who can look at her reflection and see the full scope of her beauty and power, unfiltered, unafraid. And that realization, even as her breath slows and her heart softens, is a pleasure all its own.

A warm hand brushed softly against her back, grounding her in the present, and your voice came as a gentle whisper. “I hope you enjoyed your time here,” you said, your tone reverent.

She turned to you, her eyes warm and glistening with gratitude. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice carrying a quiet depth. “This experience… it’s shown me parts of myself I’d forgotten, parts I didn’t even know were there.” Then in a moment of realization a quick panic rushed upon her. "Wait you didn't get to finish"

Your hand brushed softly against hers, grounding her in the present, and your voice came as a gentle whisper. “This was always about you, not me. Its okay, truly” you said, your tone reverent.

You smiled, meeting her gaze with admiration. “There’s such a difference in you now,” you added, a note of pride in your voice. “From the Jihyo I met just a short while ago to the one standing here now… it’s like night and day, even without words. You’re radiant—glowing with a confidence that wasn’t there before.”

Her cheeks flushed with quiet pride, and a soft smile touched her lips as she let herself sink deeper into the warmth of the moment, her body still alive with the lingering sensations that rippled gently through her. She felt incredible, her very core awakened—a part of herself that had always been there, now freed and fully embraced. Confidence, steady and unshakeable, flowed through her, filling her with a sense of wholeness she’d never quite known before. This feeling, this assurance, was wholly hers.

-----

In the weeks that followed, Jihyo found herself returning to the Mirror Room again and again. Each visit became an opportunity to peel back another layer, to delve deeper into her own story, her own beauty, her own strength. Every time she stood before those mirrors, something new awaited her: another hidden facet, another part of herself coming into the light. She found herself lingering in her reflections longer, tracing the lines of her body, absorbing the softness and strength she was coming to know and love. Sometimes, she led the experience, moving with purpose; other times, she allowed herself to be guided, reveling in the sensation of surrender. You had become an intuitive presence, familiar with the subtleties of her preferences, attuned to her every movement without needing to ask. Each time, she left the room with a richer understanding of herself, a deeper acceptance of her own worth, resilience, and beauty.

The mirrors became her companions on this journey, revealing her from angles and perspectives she would never have considered before. They offered her a clearer view of a woman whose confidence and self-love had blossomed from a place of discovery and acceptance. She no longer shied away from her reflection; instead, she looked at herself with a newfound openness, appreciating the uniqueness that made her who she was.

Eventually, Jihyo realized she wanted to bring this experience home, to let this newfound freedom settle into her daily life, beyond the mirrors of the hotel. One evening, after what she knew would be her final hotel visit, she found herself standing in her bedroom, unwrapping an oversized mirror she had ordered just for herself. The frame was sleek, elegantly crafted, its generous size designed to capture every angle around her bed—just like the mirrors in the hotel room that had shown her so much. She traced her fingers along the edge, feeling the cool, smooth surface beneath her fingertips, a soft smile playing on her lips as memories of her journey flickered in her mind.

The mirror was more than a piece of decor; it was a symbol of everything she had uncovered and the confidence she had unlocked. It embodied her courage to embrace not just her desires but her own beauty, her own strength. It was a reflection of the woman she had become—a woman who could look at herself without fear or hesitation, fully aware of her beauty in all its complexity.

After placing the mirror carefully at the foot of her bed, she stepped back, taking in the way her reflection gazed back with clear eyes and a self-assured smile. The sight filled her with a profound sense of pride and fulfillment. She had taken control of her narrative, claiming her own image as beautiful, strong, and worthy. She found herself standing there, rooted and grounded in her own power, savoring the warmth of her own strength radiating back at her.

Later, as she lay down beneath her covers. Jihyo felt a gentle warmth spread through her, a pride she hadn’t known until now. She no longer avoided her reflection or let insecurities cloud her view of herself. For the first time, she faced it head-on, proud of the strength and beauty that had been there all along. What she saw went far beyond appearances; she saw a confidence, a power, and a deep, abiding love for herself, whole and complete.

As the moonlight cast a soft, ethereal glow on the mirror beside her bed, her heart filled with gratitude, her mind resting in calm acceptance. She no longer questioned her worth or doubted her beauty. Her journey had led her here, to a place where she could finally see herself clearly.

And as her eyes fluttered closed, a gentle smile softened her lips, her heart quietly affirming the truth she had come to know:

She is truly and undeniably beautiful.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #girl group smut #reader insert #male reader #kinkvember #kinkvember 2024 #twice #twice smut #park jihyo #jihyo #twice jihyo #park jihyo smut #jihyo smut #jihyo x reader

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hurlingdown · 6 months ago

Text

NEED YOU — TOP MALE READER X RORONOA ZORO

synopsis. zoro being drunk and needy for your attention was always a sight to behold. but after being way too focused on his training and barely interacting with you for a full week, it wouldn't be fair for you to just give him what he wants. guess he'll just have to earn it from you, one way or another. wc. 2.1k

tags. anal sex, drunk sex, fingering, slight feminisation, tit-sucking, overstimulation, reader edging both zoro and himself in the process, creampie, bit of cockwarming

It wasn’t often that you got to see him like this.

Zoro pressed his hard-on against your abdomen, making a low, needy noise into the crook of your neck. You held in a leer as he clumsily rocked his hips against your crotch, thighs clenching around your hips, trying to get you hard and ready for him to ride.

You chose to feign nonchalance. It was always more fun when you made him beg for it. “What’s the special occasion, hm? I smell sake.”

Zoro mumbled your name, borderline whining, “Not the point.”

“Yeah?” You grinned. “It’s part of your routine at this point, no? Drinking, sleeping, training. I don’t think you need anything else to keep you satisfied.”

It wasn’t like you were angry with him. The time you spent together had been barely existent in the past week, with him busy perfecting his swordsmanship in the day and falling asleep immediately when you came to join him in bed. On lazy days he would be sneaking alcohol from the kitchen to drink, and then dozing off—but none of these activities involved you.

It wasn’t like you were angry—just slightly irritated that maybe he had forgotten about you. But it didn’t matter now, did it?

Zoro sat back on his haunches, eyes wide with defiance. “No, no—” He leaned in, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. “I need this—need you.”

You kept the kiss as chaste as possible (if it even was possible, as he tried multiple times to stick his tongue into your mouth), hands moving to his waist to gently tug him back, ignoring his red, flushed face, drool almost trickling at the corner of his mouth. One kiss was all it took to reduce him to a mess. It was always a sight to see him drunk and needy, eyes hazy and lips parted, begging for you to take him right there.

Not today, though.

“Why’d you—stop?” Zoro panted, hands tightening on your shirt to pull you into another kiss, only to frown petulantly when you held him still. “What? What is it?”

The corner of your lip twitched as you hid a sadistic smile.

“I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re—” Zoro’s eyebrows scrunched up, and he made a face. “And I’m not in the mood for—” He hiccups. “—jokes.” He grinds his front against the hard outline of your cock, letting out a brazen moan, as though proving his statement.

“I’m not joking. I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re always in the mood.”

“Not today,” you told him, not even bothering to be apologetic as Zoro continued to helplessly grind against you, showing you how much he needed this, how badly he wanted it. “And that’s a biological reaction, it means nothing.”

“Babe,” Zoro whined. “I’m—please—fuck, there, I said it!” He looked at you expectantly, as if he thought you were conditioned to respond to all his requests with one word.

You looked at him, amused. “You thought I wanted you to beg?”

“You didn’t?” Zoro frowned, confusion taking over his features before the possibility of you really not being in the mood dawned on him. Humiliation washed over him, and as though he wasn’t red enough already, a steady blush travelled down his neck and into the dip of his yukata, and if you were a weaker man, you would have ripped it off long ago to bite and suck at his huge chest until he was shivering with overstimulation, nothing but broken consonants of your name slipping past his lips. “Why now of all times? You’re, hngh—a cruel bastard.”

“Am I not allowed to not be in the mood?”

You grinned at him as he blinked back the tears gathering in his eyes, so painfully hard only to have you deny him of his birthright.

“I got all ready for you,” Zoro muttered, glaring at you, “and this is what you do to me.” You were careful not to let any excitement show. After all, he had gone and prepped himself for you. He had probably laid on the bed with his hand between his thighs, three knuckles deep inside his tight hole and still pushing one more in—lifting his head with difficulty to watch them go in and out, in and out, feeling so full and yet not enough.

“How about,” you suggested, smiling at him innocently, “you get me in the mood?”

“What—how?” His head felt light from the alcohol, his mind was fuzzy, and all he wanted was that fat cock pounding so deep in him that he couldn’t even register the question. “Oh.” He swallowed. “I could.”

Zoro got up from your lap, albeit a little pettish, and slowly crawled onto the bed. He slid his yukata over his shoulders to pool around his knees, revealing strong delts and a scarless back, save for the almost-faded bruises and love bites littered all over—the remnants of a heated night. Your eyes chased the bead of sweat that trickled down between his shoulder blades, down, down, down—until it reached two firm globes that you wanted to squeeze, or maybe spank them until they were red and aching, until he cried. Zoro canted his hips back to show you the wet, stretched-out hole between them, clenching and fluttering around nothing as he gave a pitiful whine into the pillow he held.

That was when you realised. He had chosen a promising position, folding his arms and arching his back, pressing his tits onto the soft mattress, a keen, heated gaze thrown over his shoulder to make sure you were watching him. Presenting the most vulnerable part of himself to you.

You were so fucking hard. But you weren’t going to give in so easily.

Zoro, seeing as you gave no reaction, spread his legs a little wider, squirming on the sheets to settle into the right pose. He laid the side of his head on the pillow so you could watch, and then staring dead into your eyes, shoved three fingers deep into his mouth and moaned shamelessly around them, as though imagining it were your cock. He coated them with saliva as he slurped them, his blissful expression implying that he was sucking at anything but his fingers.

You swallowed harshly as drool dripped down his face and onto the pillow, but he didn’t seem to care, only stuck the tip of his tongue out, sliding it between his middle and ring finger, as though mimicking the way he would toy at the slit of your cock.

Fucking hell. You were moments away from ripping off your pants and pounding him senseless, but then apparently Zoro decided his fingers were wet enough—he pulled them out from his mouth, sticky spit drenching them. Reaching back, he deliberately made a mess as he slapped his fingers against the pink rim of his tight hole, the action making a wet, lewd sound, biting back a moan as one of them slightly dipped in.

It wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough. It wouldn’t matter if it was three fingers, four, five—the whole fucking fist—it wouldn’t matter unless it was your cock. He wanted it so fucking badly, but there you were, sitting there like a fool, not giving him what he wanted when he needed it the most. Zoro whines out your name as he shoves two fingers inside, impatient as usual—his hole clenched around them, unused to the sudden intrusion.

Zoro’s cock hung heavy between his legs, untouched, as his other hand obediently supported his weight. He added one more finger, shuddering as he pressed against his prostate, good but not big enough.

“Please,” he pleaded, the last of his dignity thrown out the window. “Need you so bad, ‘m gonna die.” He raised his head to give you one last look—face red and teary, lips red from being bitten so hard to suppress his moans, and you fucking lose it.

In mere seconds, you had thrust to the hilt and Zoro had barely any time to adjust to the size, mouth forming a silent scream as his eyes rolled back.

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes, finally—” he cried, hips meeting your thrusts as unshed tears streamed down his face. “More, harder—ah!”

You repeatedly nailed his prostate from behind, setting an absolutely punishing pace as you brazenly groaned out his name, uncaring if anyone heard the two of you. “Zoro, fuck, so good, so good for me, so tight—”

Zoro pushed back against you, always greedy for more, hands grasping for purchase on the sheets as he panted and whined into his pillow. Normally that wouldn’t do, but you would deal with that later—not now, when he was clenching down on you with every thrust, crying out profanities that would send a whorehouse to shame, “I’m yours, fuck me—hnngh, ah! Fuck me with your—cock! Use me, ruin me—”

“Fuck—Zoro—stop that, it’s too soon—”

Zoro craned his head to snarl at you, clenching down harder if anything, “I’ll fucking kill you if you come before me!”

“Well loosen up,” you snapped back, pounding into him harder and deeper, as he sobbed at the new angle, pleasure swelling in his core.

“More, fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuuuuuuck,” he cried, eyes glossed over as he whimpered, “I need more!”

“You’re barely hanging on—” you groaned as he thrust back against you just right, making you see stars. “And you're asking for more—?”

“Just give it to me, harder—”

Little moans and whines were punched out of him with every thrust as the wet slap of skin against skin and sick squelching sounds filled the room, and you pulled out all of a sudden, watching him scramble to get back on your cock with a displeased growl, he was so fucking close, and still, and still—

You took the opportunity to grab his hips and flip him onto his back, ramming your cock back inside—a direct hit against his prostate, at the same time wrapping a hand around his cock and giving it a hard, firm jerk, thumb digging into the slit—and then Zoro’s coming, locking up tight, clenching down hard on your length as he damn nearly howls your name, eyes crossing and tongue lolling out, body shuddering with the force of his release.

“I’m so close, fuck, Zoro, Zoro—” you moaned, hands positioned on the back of his knees, spreading his legs wide as you continued to fuck into his used hole, making his toes curl and his nails dig down your back, bordering on overstimulation.

"Too much—I can't!" he cried, tears leaking out of his eyes as he struggled to keep them open. "Just fucking come already—"

You slammed into him harder, making him choke on a moan. You had originally planned on going easy on him, but you guessed he wasn't planning on walking tomorrow anyway.

“Come inside,” Zoro demanded, weakly glaring up at you as he dared you to defy him, despite panting heavily and still shivering from his body-wracking orgasm. “Wanna feel you.” His cock hung limply between his legs, jolting every now and then as you pounded into him, but it was going to take a while before he was fully hard again.

You bent down to take his tit into your mouth, sucking at it like a lifeline, like you expected something to come out of it, and Zoro whined, trembling, his tight hole practically wringing you dry as you continued to nail him into the sheets, intense pleasure flooding your senses as you bit and sucked at his chest, the need to mark him up as yours overwhelming you.

“Gonna come so hard, fuck, s’tight, s’good, mine, Zoro—”

“Love you—”

That did it for you. His lips parted and you dove forward to kiss him, bending him in half as you did—cock stuffing him to the brim while you keened, vision whitening out as you moaned shamelessly into the kiss. As you pumped him full of your come, he clenched hard around you, trying to keep it all inside him.

“Love you too,” you gasped belatedly, panting.

You shuddered as you felt Zoro’s legs lock around your waist, stopping you from pulling out.

“Keep it in,” he muttered, eyes drooping. “Take it out in the morning.”

You watched with fascination as Zoro fell asleep within seconds, snuggling back onto the pillow he had moaned and drooled all over earlier, and you wondered how it was possible for someone who had been so insanely erotic to shift back into his usual sleepy self in a matter of moments.

Chuckling to yourself, you pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead and settled down beside his sleeping form, making sure to plug him up properly with your cock and not letting even a single drop of your come spill from his hole. masterlist!

#✧ blood of reptile.#top male reader #dom male reader #zoro x male reader #roronoa zoro x male reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x male reader #top reader #dom reader #male reader #x male reader #bottom character #roronoa zoro #bottom male character #one piece smut #no beta we die like ace

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reilemon · 6 months ago

Text

💫Xavier, Xavier, Xavier...💫

♡︎synopsis: Xavier shows you what happens when you push your luck.

♡︎pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎cw: established relationship, edging, orgasm denial, oral sex (both male and female receiving), fingering, creampie, pet names

♡︎word count: 2.1k

♡︎a/n: Okay, it starts when MC falls onto the sofa and Xavier asks 'what's your answer'. Although I love how MC reassures him after, I changed some stuff between that moment and the doorbell, to set the tone for the rest of the fic 🤭.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this!

divider by @cafekitsune

The back of your knees hit the sofa making you plop down onto the couch.

Xavier cages you in with his legs on either side of yours, his hands resting on the back and armrest. "So, what's your answer?"

You grin in amusement. He's so cute (and hot) when he gets jealous. You squish his pillowy cheeks "Are you jealous?"

He averts his gaze, pouting. "No."

You can't deny how attractive he looked just now as he basically cornered you onto the couch with the raised eyebrow, the intense gaze as he towered over you.

You did get a feeling that you may have talked about Lumiere too much, and this merch unpacking didn't help. Still, you want to tease him more. Because he's being ridiculous and he should know that all of you belongs to him - Xavier.

You check the time on the digital watch in the distance. You should have around four, five minutes. Biting back a mischievous grin, you look up at him with innocent eyes as your hands wander from his cheeks, down over his torso to slowly stroke the front of his pants. "I've been talking about Lumiere too much, have I?"

His breath hitches as he watches you unbutton his pants.

"Let me make it up to you." You free his already hard dick. You always make him worked up so easily. Your tongue slides from the base towards the tip, your mouth giving the cockhead attention while your hand strokes the rest of his length.

Xavier's hand rests on your head, and he's resisting the urge to buck his hips, to feel more of your delicious mouth.

He pants "You still haven't -"

The doorbell rings.

He completely forgot about the delivery that was on the way.

You take the chance of momentarily distraction and pull away. "We can't keep the delivery guy waiting."

Disbelief written all over his face, he grabs you by the chin. "Nope. I still haven't heard the answer I want."

You swat away his hand and you squeeze through between him and the couch, rushing towards the door. You chime over your shoulder "I'm the injured one here, Lumi - I mean, Xavier!" And you can't help a sly smile that creeps up on your lips when you're away from his eyesight.

Xavier heard that nice and clear as he zipped up his pants. You're so paying for that later.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The rest of the days of your recovery are the same - uneventful. You had the checkup, leveled up in the game, watched more movies and TV shows, ate those healthy porridges and Xavier's questionable smoothies. The new Lumiere merch and your occasional teasing of Xavier made this mundane routine more exciting. You had the ‘girlfriend in recovery’ immunity, so you made good use of it. You would either "accidentally" refer to him as Lumiere, or you'd keep suggesting to him to wear the costume once you're fully recovered.

You adored seeing his pouts, and you couldn't help but feel excited when he's jealous, especially when you remember that one night in the club bathroom*.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Couple of days pass since your full recovery and return to work. Both you and Xavier were too busy while getting back on track with everything, but tonight you finally have time for each other.

Finally.

You're aching for his touch. He didn't want to do anything while he was your caregiver, even though you insisted that you're fine. You did tease him that time when he was wearing the Lumiere costume, but he didn't mention it later and neither did you.

As much as you complained about that "mundane routine", you missed it now that your schedule is hectic again, so you decided to invite Xavier for a movie night. You're going to watch an old movie "The Mask of Zorro" and eat dinner that already arrived. You change into pajama shorts and your favorite Xavier's hoodie that you stole.

A few minutes later the doorbell rings, so you answer it - and you almost squeal in excitement when you see Xavier in Lumiere outfit at your doorstep.

He decided to wear this since you already bought it for him, and because he did feel silly for feeling jealous of his own persona. Seeing your enthusiasm makes him amused and glad that he indulged you.

And he ignores the jealous feeling creeping up in his chest again.

He steps in and greets you by taking your hand a planting a soft kiss on top of it. Then he pulls you by the waist and gives your lips a gentle peck.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a deeper kiss. You pull away with a smile, your finger dangling the ear cuff "Let's go to the bedroom."

"I thought you invited me for dinner?"

"That can wait."

Xavier chuckles and lifts you up princess style and walks towards the bedroom, as you kiss and lick his sensitive neck.

When he softly places you on the bed, you immediately sit up to the edge, his crotch right in front of you. You sweetly look up at him as your hand strokes over his clothed member “I think I owe you something, Lumiere.”

Lumie- Xavier’s jaw clenches. He takes a deep breath and his gloved hand catches you wrist. “Lumiere, huh?”

That sly grin threatens to tug at your lips. Oh, this is going to be good. You give him your best innocent pout and angelic doe eyes, acting oblivious.

Letting go of your wrist, he takes off your hoodie, revealing you’re wearing nothing underneath, your breasts bare and already nipples perked up. He kneels in front of you, one gloved hand groping one while his mouth gives attention to the other one, gently kissing and sucking sensitive the nipple. Shortly after, you lie down, resting on your elbows, as he takes off your shorts and panties together.

With his teeth, he removes a glove from one hand and offers you his two middle fingers which you take into your mouth, sucking on them, tongue swirling, generously coating them. Breaking the string of saliva between your lips and his digits, with feather-like touch, he grazes between your lower lips, his eyes hungrily eyeing your pussy that is already glistening with arousal.

You swallow an impatient moan, but you subtly wiggle your hips, urging him to press harder.

"So impatient." He chuckles and stills your hips with his other hand, the leather glove providing a new and exciting sensation. You jolt as his fingers suddenly press your clit, rubbing it in painfully slow motion, but you can't move your hips to stimulate yourself more, your small whines showing your frustration.

"What is it, princess?" Xavier innocently asks. "Don't you like it when I’m gentle?"

A sigh leaves your lips. "I do... Lumiere. You're so gentle and sweet." As much as you want to beg for him to touch you more, take you right now, you want to provoke him even more.

So he continues with the teasing - grazing your clit, going around your dripping entrance for a few more minutes before finally slipping one finger inside, a moan slipping from your lips, making his hard cock twitch. He slips it in and out a few times before the second finger joins. The front of his pants is becoming unbearably tight as he listens to your beautiful moans when his finger curl hitting that sweet spot inside you, his mouth salivating at the sight of your wet pussy being finger fucked by him, so he latches his lips onto your bundle of nerves.

Your eyes roll back as he does so, your hand finding purchase in his fluffy hair, but you still can't move your hips as he is firmly holding you, his hand pressing your lower belly. He got you so worked up with all the teasing that you're starting to feel the heat pooling in your pussy, your leg muscles twitching as you try to meet the thrusts of his fingers.

You only manage to whisper Lumi-, before suddenly both his fingers and lips pull away, a frustrated whine leaving your lips as you were so close to cumming.

Xavier gives you a self-satisfied smirk "I'm just taking it nice and slow with my princess." and then he pushes you further onto the bed and flips you over on your stomach, propping your ass up. He silently sighs in relief behind you as he unzips and frees his throbbing cock.

You arch your back as you feel the cockhead swiping between your folds, and just when you're about to move, that gloved hand stops you by your lower back. You bite the pillow in annoyance and let him take his sweet time, the tip teasingly slipping in and out.

He bends your leg, spreading you out more for him, and lies down on top of you, his clothed body putting oppressing weight on top of your completely naked form. His hot breath tickles your ear and the gloved hand wraps around your neck, making you look up at him "Were you gonna say something, bunny?"

Your pussy flutters around his tip, and you open your mouth to beg him to just fuck you, to let you cum, but you stay silent and swallow thickly, and you only shake your head.

He hums in amusement and lets go of your neck to prop his weight on his hands as he starts moving his hips. With shallow thrusts he slowly eases himself inside you, he lets out a choked groan as your walls clench around him when he bottoms out.

You mewl into the pillow as his hips roll at a languid pace, and you flinch when his fingers find your clit, pinching it and rubbing small circles. You can move your hips now, but he's set on being "gentle" and all you can do is whine and moan underneath him as his slow strokes make you cream around his cock, the delayed orgasm flaring up again.

(Un)fortunately for you, Xavier knows your body too well, and just as you thought you could cum without a warning, he completely pulls out and his hand leaves your tender bud.

You groan into the pillow "Xavier!"

"Oh?" his voice is clear and composed, but you don't see him shutting his eyes as he's squeezing his tip with his hand. In a few seconds he calms down and leans over you, whispering in your ear "I thought you wanted Lumiere... "

You were so desperate to cum you didn't notice that you dropped your sweet innocent act.

He flips you on your back, pushing your legs up by the back of your knees, with his heavy cock just resting between your swollen folds.

He swats away your hand when you reach down to put it back inside, but presses his thumb on your needy clit, making you squirm at the contact.

“Please…” You pant.

“Hm?” He cocks an eyebrow “Who are you talking to, my little bunny?”

You whimper as your bud is neglected yet again “Xavier… Just fuck m- !” You don’t finish the sentence and Xavier completely buries his dick inside, then pulling back almost completely before shoving it back inside, and you cry out in pleasure as his cock pounds into you with the vigorous pace that you desperately needed.

The heat rushes through your body, head dizzy, but you muster enough strength to sit up and grab Xavier by the back of his neck, slipping off the ear cuff, wrapping your arms and legs around him, needing to feel his whole weight on top of you as he mercilessly pounds into you.

His hips falter for a moment, but he continues at the same pace - angling his hips to keep hitting your sensitive spot while his pelvis slaps against your swollen pearl. His arms wrap around your torso and he pulls you into a sloppy, wet kiss.

Right before the waves of your orgasm overtake you pant Xavier, Xavier, Xavier against his lips, and with your pulsing walls around his girth, he thrusts deep inside, filling up your pussy as he moans my love in your ear.

The two of you lie there, wrapped into each other’s arms, your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, hips still moving to help the other come down from their high.

When he pulls out, you notice your mixed fluids all over his white pants. “I think those pants are ruined.” You comment and then your eyes squint at him “Was that your plan all along?”

He avoids your gaze, impish smile on his lips. “Maybe.”

#love and deepspace #xavier x reader #xavier smut #xavier love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #lads xavier #lads smut

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flowerbunnyboo · 7 days ago

Text

PROSTATE PLAY | back

starring: oc (Adam) x male reader

summary: Adam is a urologist, a doctor that deals with penises and prostates. Little did he expect to have one of the best sex ever with a random patient on a random day

nsfw

a/n: this is a repost. I have written one with a kpop idol. Thought I should post this without a kpop idol for the non kpop fans because I love the sayuncle videos

It was a typical Wednesday morning at Dr. Adam’s urology clinic. Patients trickled in, each with their unique set of urinary issues. Adam, a tall and handsome man in his early thirties, greeted them with a warm smile as he efficiently diagnosed and treated various conditions - from kidney stones to prostatitis.

Just before lunch, a new patient arrived, introducing himself as Mn. He looked to be in his late twenties, with short dark hair and piercing eyes that seemed to hold a secret. As Mn settled onto the examination table, Adam couldn't help but notice the way his slender fingers drummed against his thigh, betraying a hint of nervousness.

“So, tell me Mr. Mn”,Adam began, leaning over the chart, “What seems to be the problem?”

Mn shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the sterile white room before finally meeting Adam’s gaze.

“Well, Doctor... I've been experiencing some discomfort down there,” he gestured vaguely towards his crotch, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It's like... my dick just feels off sometimes”

Adam raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. “Off, how exactly? Painful? Tingly? Or perhaps... “. His voice trailed off suggestively as he allowed his gaze to linger on Mn's lap, where a noticeable bulge strained against the fabric of his jeans.

Mn's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and he quickly looked away, clearing his throat. “N-no pain, really. Just... sensitivity, I guess. And sometimes it gets hard without warning”

Adam nodded thoughtfully, making a note on the chart making another mark beside 'Premature Ejaculation'.

He glanced up at Mn through his lashes, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hmm, interesting. Well, let's take a closer look, shall we?”

Without waiting for a response, Adam reached for the stethoscope hanging from his neck and deftly unbuttoned Mn's pants.

The cool metal pressed against sensitive skin as he listened intently, his breath hot against Mn's inner thigh.

“Mmm, sounds healthy enough”, Adam murmured, his fingers trailing lightly along the waistband of Mn's boxers. “But I think we should rule out any potential prostate issues. Just a routine exam, don't worry”

Mn bit his lip, trying to ignore the thrill that shot through him at Adam’s touch. ‘Prostate exam?’ Was that normal for this kind of visit? He didn't think so, but the doctor's confident demeanor put him at ease.

Adam carefully peeled down Mn's boxers, exposing his erect cock to the cool air of the exam room. A low whistle escaped his lips. “My, you're quite the one, aren't you?”

Mn's face burned even hotter, but he couldn't help shying under the praise.

Adam’s hands were gentle as they wrapped around his shaft, giving it a slow squeeze. “Relax, this won't hurt a bit”, the doctor assured him, his thumb rubbing teasing circles over the sensitive head.

As Adam began to stroke Mn's length, the young man felt his resolve crumbling.

The pleasure was overwhelming, and Mn found himself arching into Adam’s touch, his hips instinctively rocking to meet those skilled fingers. “Oh god, that feels...amazing”, he panted, his eyes fluttering shut.

Adam smiled to himself, pleased by the reaction. He picked up the pace, pumping Mn's cock with increasing urgency. “You're doing great, just relax and enjoy it”, he cooed, leaning in close to murmur against Mn's ear.

The heat of Adam’s breath sent shivers down Mn's spine, and he could feel his balls drawing up tight, signaling his impending climax. But just as he teetered on the edge, Adam abruptly pulled away, leaving Mn aching and empty.

“Almost there, but not yet”

Adam said with a wink, his own erection straining visibly against his scrubs. “Now, let's see about that prostate of yours...”

Before Mn could protest, Adam had positioned himself between his thighs, one hand guiding Mn's leg up and over his hip. The other hand, slick with lube, pressed insistently against Mn's rear entrance.

“Oh!”, Mn gasped, surprised by the sudden intrusion. But instead of pain, a wave of intense pleasure washed over him as Adam’s finger breached his tight hole.

“That's it, just relax”, Adam soothed, slowly working his finger deeper. “You're doing fantastic”

Mn moaned, his head falling back as he surrendered to the sensation. Adam finger curled inside him, stroking that magical spot that made stars explode behind his eyelids.

”Doctor”, Mn whimpered, his voice trembling with need, “please... I need..”

He didn't even know what he needed anymore, only that the ache within him demanded to be filled.

Adam must have understood, because suddenly he was removing his finger and replacing it with the thick head of his own cock.

Mn cried out as he felt that first delicious stretch, his body Adam the invasion. Adam pushed in inch by glorious inch until he was buried to the tip, filling Mn completely.

For a moment, they simply stayed like that, caught in the haze of pleasure. Then Adam began to move, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside Mn before plunging back in with a deep, satisfying thrust.

“Yes, oh god yes”, Mn chanted, his hands fisting in the sheets as he met each powerful stroke.

The room echoed with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, punctuated by their ragged breathing and muffled groans. Adam set a relentless pace, driving into Mn with precision and passion, his hips snapping forward with each thrust.

Mn's world narrowed to the feeling of being so thoroughly claimed, so utterly owned by this handsome doctor. He'd never experienced anything like it, and the intensity threatened to consume him whole.

“Harder, please”, Mn begged, his voice hoarse with desire. “Fuck me harder!”

Adam obliged, picking up speed until the exam table shook beneath them. He leaned down to capture Mn's mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to tangle with Mn's.

The added stimulation sent Mn careening over the edge.

With a strangled cry, Mn came undone, his orgasm crashing over him like a wave. His cock jerked, painting the sheets below with streaks of cum as wave after wave of bliss pulsed through him.

Through it all, Adam continued to pound into him, chasing his own release. “Fuck, you feel incredible”, he growled against Mn's lips, his thrusts growing erratic as he neared the edge.

With a final, brutal plunge, Adam buried himself to the inside and still Mn could feel every throbbing inch as he erupted inside him. The warmth of his seed flooding Mn's insides triggered another aftershock, leaving them both shaking and spent.

As the aftermath settled, Adam collapsed onto Mn, his weight a comforting pressure against him.

They lay there for a long moment, catching their breath and savoring the intimate silence. Finally, Adam lifted his head to gaze at Mn with a soft, satisfied smile.

“Well, that was certainly an unconventional examination”, he teased, brushing a strand of sweat-dampened hair from Mn's forehead. “But I think we can safely say your physical is complete”

Lets say Mn became a regular at the clinic

#bottom male reader #male reader #flowers fics #male x male #x male reader #bottom male reader smut #oc #oc x bottom male reader #oc x male reader smut #oc x m #oc x male reader #oc x reader #oc x male #oc smut #ocs

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naburi · 3 months ago

Text

YOU SAW US, DIDN’T YOU?

SANA X MINA X READER

THEME: GIRLXGIRL, WATCHER, MAKEOUT, SUBMISSIVE, TAG TEAM, BLOWJOB, EDGING, FACIAL

1.5K WORDS

It’s after class time, you went back to your school to get a book you have homework with. Chair creaking, soft inaudible sounds, coming from your classroom. You’re hesitant but curiosity led your hand to open the door. You saw “something” that you’re not supposed to see.

It’s Wednesday morning, you're sitting in your classroom still having flashbacks on what you saw yesterday. You take a glimpse of your class president, who is seated in the front row, she doesn’t seem affected by what transpired, then you take a look at Mina, who is seated in a row behind you. You look away as fast as possible as you see her looking straight at you. Sana and Mina are the most famous students on campus. Your class President, Sana, is the “Academic Darling” of the school. She’s represented the school in many school contests and won almost every time. Every girl wants to be friends with her, every girl wants to be like her, Every girl has a crush on her. While the class Vice president, Mina, is the “Campus crush,” you know Mina is near when you hear some students in awe of how beautiful she is, everyday some male student is confessing their love to her. Every male has their eyes locked onto her when she’s around. Every male wants Mina.

The week has passed and you still haven’t talked about it with anyone. You can’t even believe your eyes, you know no one will believe even if you tell them. It’s Sunday evening and you received a message from your class president, “let’s have a school meeting after class”. Your mind went blank as you didn't know what to do. It was Sana who saw you when you opened the door, and it was you who caught her on top of Mina.

It’s time for dismissal, Sana said to the whole class that the three of you volunteer to be classroom cleaners for today. No one questions it, nobody likes being cleaners. You were flabbergasted to see that the two are actually cleaning the classroom, like it became part of their daily routine. Sana instructs you to help them clean which you instantly did. Few minutes have passed, the room is clean and the three of you are seated in the front row.

“You saw us, didn’t you?” Sana said with a smirk. “How did it make you feel?” Sana adds. Mina is listening and waiting for your answer, smiling the whole time. You admit nervously that it made you feel hot, it keeps your boner up at night. It made you think hard every time you saw them in school. The two girls laugh with your honesty. Sana instructed them to sit at the teacher's seat which is in front of them. Sana and Mina take a long teasing look at you before they start to touch each other's face. Sana started to make out immediately with the pretty lips of Mina, and gave back the kiss like it’s a routine. Sana hands caressing the black hair of her in tune to their make out, slow and passionate like how her tongue moves inside of Mina’s mouth.

The thought of someone watching them turns Sana even more. She breaks up the kiss to sit on Mina’s lap and starts kissing the submissive girl again. This is the same position you caught them, Sana wants to own Mina’s body using her lips. Mina in return starts to grope the round boobs of Sana over her uniform. This turns on Sana more and she starts to pull the girls hair and start to attack Mina’s mouth using her tongue, Mina more than gives back the tongue work and starts sucking on Sana’s tongue which elicits a high pitch moan out of her. They didn’t care if someone could hear them, all they care about is how to devour one another in the name of pleasure. Mina starts to unbutton her revealing her tight round boobs, Mina immediately pinch her nipples which made her moan loud again. Sana answers back by sucking on Mina’s neck not caring if it leaves hickies. The black hair girl tried to hold her moan but her head moved back through pleasure. Mina starts to unbutton her own uniform, her one hand groping her small boobs and her other hand reaching down to her wet panties to play with her clit. Sana notices this and positions herself to sit on one of Mina’s legs and grind her clit over it. The two girls moan loudly as they reach climax.

Breathing heavily as the two girls look at you, Sana helps Mina to stand up and walk towards you. Under the teacher’s table, your cock is out masturbating it while watching over them. Sana laughs loudly with the thought that you can’t contain yourself. Sana grabs your cock and strokes it gently and says “don’t cum today and we will let you fuck one of us tomorrow.” You accept her offer without knowing what’s to come. Sana and Mina kneel down in front of you admiring your cock for a few seconds before they put their tongue in the head of your shaft. The two tongues slurping your head is too much to handle, it looks like they are still making out but with your cock in between them. Sana laughs when she hears you growl from too much pleasure. Sana gives Mina a look, and they start to slide their tongues up and down your shafts. Sana moves fast and erotic while Mina slowly slides her tongue through all of your cock like it’s trying to memorize every part of it. Sana stares at you with lustful intention while Mina looks like she wants you to remember how great her tongue is. Sana moves down to your balls giving it a few licks before putting it inside her mouth feeling her warm mouth, Mina follows along, having both of your balls in each of these Campus celebrities makes you feel like you’re in Heaven. Sana likes the reaction she saw from you at start to give you a rim job to add more pleasure. You moan as loud as them when Mina moves back in your head and starts to put your head in your mouth. Mina’s tight mouth is trying to push through till she reaches the end of your shaft. Sana noticed this held Mina’s hair to guide the other. Sana slowly pushes and pulls Mina’s head in your cock like it’s made to be used like this. Sana looks at you smirking while Mina’s eyes swell due to how deep your cock is in her mouth. Sana doesn’t need to push her head as she’s the one who's deepthroating your cock hungrily, she sucks your cock like she wants you to remember her mouth, she sucks you like you want her mouth to mold perfectly around your cock. Sana and you watch with amusement how your length disappears and reappears inside Mina’s mouth. Your shaft is getting wetter and Saliva starts pouring out of the girl's mouth the more she deepthroats you. Sana takes this as a que and guides Mina’s head to her lips to have a wet and sloppy make out session with her. Both girls kiss like they are addicted to one another. Mina pulled back from the kiss as she needed to take a breather.

It’s Sana’s turn to take your cock. Her mischievous smile made you nervous. You barely survive Mina, and you're about to get devoured by Sana herself. Sana touches your wet cock stroking it while her tongue slowly licking your head, she know it’s already sensitive after those deepthroats and she wants to torture you with pleasure. She wants to see how long you can hold it. Sana keeps up the pace of her stroking while she bobs her head swallowing the tip of your shaft. Her hand grip paired with her fast head movement made your cock twitch. Sana notices this like a shark smelling blood. She starts to weave her head along with her hand to take all of your cock. You tried to keep your moan but Sana still doing her tongue work while sucking your cock might be the end of you. Her pace keeps up which makes you moan for a long period due to how fast she’s making you get into your climax. Mina knows what’s about to happen, she starts sucking and licking your shaft while sana is focused on sucking your head, she tries to suck it like she wants you to drain your balls. Your cock twitches once more and Mina moves to suck your balls to give Sana the space to take all of your cock. She moves her head faster than Mina, she can take it better than Mina. You can’t hold it any longer, you tell them you're about to cum and the two position themselves to take all of your cum to their faces. You shoot loads of cum that also spurts in their hair and their uniform. Their two faces share the hot load of your cum.

Later that night you received a message from your class president “we will give you another chance tomorrow after class.”

#twice smut #sana smut #mina smut #k pop smut #reader smut

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utterlyotterlyx · 3 months ago

Text

Eden

Azriel x F!Reader

Summary - You had heard the rumours of the illustrious Shadowsinger, and you knew better than to get involved with him despite his eyes finding you. Though, everything changes after one fateful night, and you find yourself unwilling to be another one of his conquests.

Warnings - angst, swearing, mentions of blood, fluff, fuck boy to angel Az, jealousy, some sadness, suggestive tones

Based on this ask

Word Count - 11.5k (oops)

"You know that sleeping around isn't going to make your mate miraculously appear, right?" Cassian pretty much shouted across the table to Azriel, wincing and the loud thumping of the music and squealing laughter drifting through the dancefloor of Rita's.

Shrugging, Azriel continued to sip on his potent drink, so potent that it took the edge off of his misery for a few hours to allow him to enjoy being buried inside another female before he went home to only be surrounded by every single member of his family acting sickly in love.

At first Azriel only did it to forget about Elain and Lucien, at how she chose the fox over him, but then it spiralled into something more. It had become to poisonous and filled him with so much venom that he despised being around his family at all. He had moved himself out of the House of Wind to a small but cosy apartment on the outskirts of the city, mainly so that no one truly knew how many women he was bedding each week, but so that he could also escape the turmoil of mating bonds and happiness.

"I don't have a mate," Azriel admitted, truly believing that the Mother had chosen to restrict him of that single purity he had always yearned for.

His eyes scoured the crowd, trying to find a female he hadn't taken to bed yet, not wanting to fuck the same woman twice and lead her to believe that he wanted anything more from her than what he did.

"Don't say that," Cassian scolded lightly, frowning at his brother and worrying about the dimness laced in his eyes as they lazily dragged across the crowds. "She's out there, Az. You just have to be patient."

Cassian's words gave Azriel no hope. The Shadowsinger knew that Nesta disapproved of Cassian joining him in the evenings, and he knew that Rhys and Feyre were worried about his wellbeing, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

To care was to open himself up to more pain, and he couldn't do it again.

"No, I don't," Azriel downed the rest of his drink and rose from his place in the booth, rolling his shoulders and feeling his shadows peak up from behind his wings, just as solemn as their master. "You should get back to Nesta. I'll see you for training tomorrow," he mumbled, fixating his gaze on the woman he knew for certain he'd be taking to bed that night to forget how lonely he truly was, stalking toward her and leaving Cassian more worried than he ever had been.

There was something about clubs and alcohol that you despised. Maybe it was the way males kept on knocking into you without apology, or how they would lean in and shout down your ear in an attempt to get you to dance with them.

No. It was definitely the heat that you hated the most. How the sweaty bodies would writhe and pulse to the beat of the music with little care of the world raging on beyond the doors. A world you had ventured across to set up a practice in the Night Court, believing that it was where fate needed you to be.

"Loosen up, y/n," your slightly inebriated friend, Alana, childishly begged as she grabbed your hands and swung them in time to the melody. "This is your first night out since you got here. Have some fun."

Part of you wanted to listen to her, to truly give in and push yourself outside of the bubble of comfort your solitude had gifted you. It wasn't that you hadn't tried to, it was just that you enjoyed your quiet nights in curled up with a good book, and your days of healing and walking about the city. It was routine, and you were happy living within it.

Allowing Alana to twirl you around in the tight black cut-out dress she had forced you to adorn for the evening, you couldn't help but catch a glimpse of the most beautiful male you had ever seen as the world span. Stopping in your tracks, you watched his grin widen as a stunning blonde female wearing little to no clothing swayed against the front of his body, grinding her hips and ass onto him whilst his fingers tightened around her waist.

"Who is that?" Alana came to your side sporting a knowing smirk, biting her lip softly as she too watched the male move in rhythm with the woman in front of him.

Just as his lips floated downward, whispering and nipping at the shell of her ear, did Alana admit, "That's Azriel. He's part of the Inner Circle," her eyes moved to you, dragging from your feet up to your face, "And he'd ruin you, sweetheart."

"I'm not interested," you lied.

Alana saw straight through it, "Liar," she nudged, "There isn't a single unmated female in this city that doesn't wish that he wouldn't beckon them to his bed, and he's had many of them."

There was no way that you could compare to the woman in front of him, she had golden blonde hair and rouge painted lips, and she had a wildness to her that you'd never be able to own. And, like he knew that fact, his eyes moved upward to yours and you felt like he was searching the depths of your soul. The stare was so intense that you felt the heat rise to your cheeks and had no choice but to break the contact, and you felt his smirk rake over your body as you turned away.

For the rest of the evening, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop yourself from finding Azriel from wherever he was in the room. Women flocked around him, but it was clear that he had made his choice, and you had to watch as the woman sauntered from the bar, dragging him behind her for an night of ruin.

And all you could do was wonder what exactly that would be like.

Nursing a hangover and little to no sleep thanks to the blonde feline Azriel had taken to bed that morning, the last thing he wanted to do was train with Cassian, but he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he bailed.

So there he was, clad in his leathers beneath the scorching sun, regretting all of his life choices.

At least he found something new out, something that his shadows didn't deem necessary to tell him. There was a new female in the city, one who reeked of Dawn, who was as beautiful as a setting sun in the depths of summer. Azriel couldn't help but picture her face whilst he fucked that woman, imagining her lips breathless and perfectly rounded, imagining the smoothness of her skin under his touch, and the subtle waves of her hair spiralling down her back.

It seemed that his wish to know more of her was answered the moment Feyre and Rhys stepped onto the training grounds atop the House of Wind, muttering about a new healer that Nyx had become obsessed with.

"Nyx just adores her," Feyre spoke with wonder, clad in her custom made training leathers that Rhys had made for her. "He let her give him his injections, he won't let Madja close enough to even try."

Rhys hummed in response, smiling at the memory and clearly pleased by the being he had welcomed into the city, "Well, Thesan did say that she is the best he's seen in a long time. I'm glad that she's here. It means that Madja can retire now if she wants to."

A new healer? From the Dawn Court?

No wonder she was so beautiful. She had been born in the most serene court of Prythian, she had probably grown up with the Peregryns, and had been trained by Thesan himself.

Turning his attention back to Cassian, Azriel couldn't help but let his mind wander to the healer he had seen the night before. It was strange how he found her eyes, pools of innocent bliss gazing at him from across the room that he couldn't help but be infatuated with. He still felt the pang of disappointment in his soul when she had looked away.

Training ensued without any issues, and by the end of the session Azriel was sure that he was going to throw up whilst Cassian seemed as chipper as ever. Nesta must have been nice to him when he returned home last night.

Just as Azriel went to flex his wings and return to his apartment as far away from the House of Wind, and thus Elain and Lucien, as possible, the clearing of a throat caused his feet to stick to the ground. "Az, a word?"

Rhys stood a mere few feet behind Azriel and watched as his tensed wings folded between his shoulders before he slowly turned to face him. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Rhys narrowed his eyes, still anxious about approaching Azriel considering the last time he had expressed his worry it had caused Azriel to move across the city. "I have a mission that I need you to go on. It's urgent. There's been increasing reports from the mountain camps that wing clipping has made a return. I need you to verify it."

It was one of the few things that truly got under Azriel's skin, the removal of wings from Illyrian females, usually little girls. Wordlessly, Azriel nodded, turning his back to Rhys and stepping toward the ledge that would plunge him downward, "I'll leave this afternoon."

And with that, Azriel extended his wings and propelled himself upward, ebbing and flowing over the scape of the city and trying to pinpoint where exactly the new healers practice was located. He had even sent his shadows out to continue the search when he had returned home, needing nothing more than the wash away the sweat and stench of alcohol alongside the lingering teeth marks peppered along his collarbone.

It made him feel disgusting. Azriel awoke each morning with a different female coiled around her torso feeling less like a man and more like a personal whore to the women of Velaris. It was tiring, but it was the only way he could tear his mind away from the pits of his immortal loneliness.

During his preparations, his shadows returned singing their findings.

The Sidra.

Beautiful.

Angel.

Sad.

Azriel wondered what in the world could cause something so incredible to be sad. And he vowed to delve deeper into the female upon his return, to find out what was the cause of her sadness and rid her of it.

If he couldn’t fix his own life then perhaps he could fix it for someone else. Someone who deserved it.

The sun had began to wane by the time Azriel was ready to leave for the mountain camps, he was dressed in his usual leathers with siphons glowering under the descending light. He didn’t bother looking back at the mess that was his apartment, he was used to looking back and saying goodbye to Cassian, and ruffling Nyx’s black mass of hair whilst promising the child that he wouldn’t be long.

But he was alone now, he had nothing to look back to.

It didn’t take The Shadowsinger long to reach the mountain camps. He landed far enough away to not be detected and approached the camps on foot, taking the time to try and evaluate when his life had become so unsatisfying and lifeless.

Looking into the eyes of that woman across the room at Rita’s was the first time he had felt alive, truly alive, in what felt like eons. And he was sure that he’d be chasing that feeling for the rest of his miserable days on the earth.

His wings were drooped at the tips, almost dragging along the floor, and his shadows continued on their melancholy journey slithering over his spine and shoulders before shivering and returning to where they had come from, searching for a speckle of warmth.

It was only when he heard the cries echoing from the centre of the camp did he truly focus on why he was there. The cries were whimpering, pleading, begging whoever it was to stop, and the voice was so gentle, so childlike and innocent that Azriel was beginning to lose the taut grip he usually had over his self-control.

Truthteller sang at his side, thirsty for a taste of blood, eager to take another life especially if it meant ridding the continent of another monster. Azriel was happy to indulge it.

Without wasting a moment, and without thinking, he entered the clearing in the centre of the camp and moved as fast as a phantom wind in cutting down the Illyrian males that deemed the barbarity acceptable, starting with the poor excuse of one that was towering over the cowering girl who had blood leaking from her ears and nose.

It was a bloodbath, and Azriel couldn’t bring himself to stop, not even when the arrows embedded themselves into his thigh and torso and caused his vision to blur. He could make out the pools of blood, and he could feel his shadows tightening around his limbs in attempt to get him to stop, and only when his breath became latched within his throat did he realise that there was no one left for him to maim, no one that would dare to face him anyway.

He hissed at the spreading pain being carried through his body, grabbing one of the three arrows and pulling it from his skin, smelling the arrowhead and cursing at the faint scent of nightshade laced to it.

Azriel knew that he didn’t have long, a few hours at most to make it home and get to Madja before the poison claimed him. Part of him wondered if there was any point, if living was something he truly wanted to do, but then he remembered her and the look in those beautiful eyes that had him craving life and adventure.

He decided to try. For her.

The last thing you were expecting that night was to be awoken in the early hours of the morning, when the moon was still alight in the star glittered sky, by a shouting High Lord and one of your assistants.

Your day had swam by like they all did, you healed, prescribed tonics, created balms and ointments from scratch, and visited the orphanage in the centre of the city, carrying out health checks so that everyone could rest assured that all of those beautiful children were healthy even if they weren't exactly happy.

Every patient that stopped by during the afternoon had much to tell you. After seeing you at Rita's the night before, they felt more comfortable in gossiping to you, realising that you were committing to their culture and activities. So you weren't exactly surprised when your fifth patient had something to say about Azriel.

You doubted that he even saw you through his drunken, lust-filled haze, but you saw him; you saw his hazel eyes lazily hooded and warm when they found you, you saw his lips tilt upward into a smile, and you saw the clear pain that lingered beneath the surface. Alana had told you, sternly, to not think of him, that he would be the ruin of you, but you couldn't help but think about him.

Now that you had the image of him, it was impossible to remove it from your mind.

Your mother would have scolded you for it if she were alive, she would have said that you had worked too hard and spent too long training to heal those who needed a kind touch to throw it away for some pretty male that hadn't even uttered a single word to you. She was right. As always.

Which made the entire situation a lot more strange, so strange that you had genuinely believed that you were dreaming when your assistant entered your bedroom above the practice and shook you awake.

"Y/N?" Priscilla asked, sheepishly shaking you before fumbling with her fingers at her front. "I'm sorry to wake you, but it's an emergency?"

Light spilled in from the slightly ajar door, and you could hear Rhys talking frantically from the floor below, his voice drifting up the stairs and into your ears.

It wasn't a dream at all.

You sat up quickly, causing all the blood to rush to your head, and you didn't bother to put any shoes on as you slid a plush cream cotton cardigan over your arms and barrelled down the stairs.

A gasp escaped your lips.

There lay Azriel on your examination table, blood smeared over his leathers and siphons, his skin pale and sickly, and his shadows limp in a circle above his head.

"Y/N." Rhys spoke, voice tense and wobbling, and your eyes snapped to him. He was also coated in blood, Azriel's blood, and the High Lord looked between you and his brother desperately. "Please."

Running your fingers through your unbound hair, your quickly threw it up into a loose set bun at the back of your head and quickly disinfected your hands before you moved to the Shadowsinger, to the same male who couldn't look more different than he had in Rita's.

"What happened to him?" Azriel groaned at the sound of your voice, not fully coherent but it was like he knew that it was you tending to him, and his shadow perked up for but a moment before slumping back onto the table.

Rhys was beside himself, raking his fingers through his hair and down the sides of his face. "I sent him to the mountain camps to verify a rumour," he told you, not wanting to give too much away, "He was shot with arrows, I think they were poisoned. He came back to us like this, barely breathing and mumbling some nonsense about wanting to look back."

"Did you bring the arrows?"

Within seconds, Rhys produced two of the arrows, and you noted that Azriel must have taken the third one out himself at left it in the mountains. You run your fingers along the wood, bringing the oaken arrows to your nose and scenting the oozing liquid coating the head.

"Nightshade," your voice faltered. It wasn't often that you saw anyone with nightshade poisoning, they usually didn't last so long, and the fact that Azriel had was a miracle.

You flew around the room, gathering various ointments, balms, and rags, ordering Priscilla to fetch a bucket of tepid water to keep his fever down.

"Azriel?" you called to him softly, and his head moved in the direction of his voice, "I'm y/n. I'm going to help you, alright? You just need to stay with me for a little while longer. Can you do that?"

A low whine passed through his lips, tugging at the strings of your heart, and you took that as his voice of agreement. Ordering Rhys to stand back and for Priscilla to press the dampened rag to his forehead, you began to work.

Slowly, you cut through his leathers to expose his chest to the Velarian air, noting every ripple and tense of his muscles and they writhed from the effects of the poison in his system. Without thinking, you rested your glowing palms against his abdomen, calling on every morsel of your power to dive into his veins and extract every drop of poison that lived within him.

Rhys and Priscilla watched in awe as the poison began to vacate his body through the entry wounds left by the arrows, they watched that black putrid filth run down the sides of his body and drip onto the stone floor. But you didn't stop, you wouldn't let a single tear of that poison live inside of him, and once the last drop had left him, Azriel opened his eyes and gasped.

The relief he was feeling must have been profound. His eyes trailed along your face, much enjoying this version of you than the one he saw at Rita's, noting the long lashes of your closed eyes as your power surged through him to ensure that his blood was clean. You didn't even realise that your eyes were closed until his clammy, trembling fingers curled around your wrist.

His eyes were weak and drowsy, he was rightfully exhausted, and you pulled your hands away slowly, the glow in your palms weakening more by the second. Then you moved your eyes to his face, his sickly pallid face and equally pale lips that were parted in shock.

And then you felt it, that golden thread withering in solitude connecting with its other half, entwining and thrumming in clear skies, burning gold in the pits of darkness.

"Mate." Azriel rasped, eyes wide and fingers fumbling to keep a hold on you, his thankful shadows trailing up your arms to steal the warmth locked beneath your skin.

You could feel Rhys' eyes on you, examining you, not knowing what to do or say in the moment.

"Right. Yes." Azriel's wounds were still open and angry, and that is why you couldn't fully adapt to what had just happened between you, not when you could feel his pain laced with hope flow down the freshly unlocked bond.

The rest of your work was done in silence. You applied thick balms to his wounds to urge them to close and disinfect before bandaging his entire torso and thigh, apologising when each wince would sound from his lips. And all he did was watch your face whilst you worked, he watched the furrow of your brow and the concentration within your eyes, and he realised why his mind was focused on you since the moment he had seen you.

You were his mate.

His mate.

His.

When you had finished, you turned to Rhys who was perched upon a nearby chair, observing in perfect silence, and beckoned him to follow you onto the porch of your practice, closing the door softly behind you whilst Priscilla continued to clean the blood and dirt from his skin. "He would have died if you had come five minutes later."

Rhys took a step toward you, "Will he be alright?"

Part of you had to admire Rhys for his care, for the way he cared about every member of his found family and how he would go to the ends of the earth to ensure that they lived, but another part of you hated him for sending Azriel to the mountain camps in the first place.

"He'll be fine. I suggest letting him rest, someone will need to watch him," your voice trailed off slightly, not knowing whether to offer or not considering the revelation that he was your mate, "I'll stop in and do regular checks over the next couple of days, but for now he just needs to be somewhere comfortable."

"I'll take him to the River House," Rhys promised, knowing that was the only place where Azriel could truly rest, and the only place where you could enter without having to go through the rest of their dysfunctional family. "How are you feeling?"

A thin smile tugged at the corners of your lips, "I'm fine."

"I meant," he took another step toward you, glancing down at the blood that now stained your cardigan and skirt of your night dress, "How are you feeling about Azriel being your mate?"

Peering over your shoulder and through the window, you saw Azriel looking up at the ceiling with a gentle smile on his lips. "I know who he is, his reputation. I'm someone who has given their entire life to be amazing at what they do, which means that I'm inexperience in other aspects. I don't think I'm the kind of woman that he wants."

Shaking his head, Rhys brushed against your side, "Trust me. You are everything that he has ever wanted."

All you could do was hum in reply, and you folded your arms over your chest to protect against the chilled winds as you stepped back inside, internally grinning at Azriel's effort to sit upright the moment you were back in his presence. You stopped at his side, "I've told Rhys to take you somewhere comfortable so that you can recover, and I'll stop by over the next few days to make sure that you're healing properly and that there aren't any side effects from the poison."

Azriel furrowed his brow, "But what about us?"

"Let's just get you healed first," you told him, doing your best to stay calming, "Then we can revisit everything else."

He wanted to say more, he wanted to take your hand and bring it to his mouth, he wanted to know what your skin tasted like on his tongue. He wanted to know everything he could about you, and he was desperate for it, so desperate that no words fell from his fumbling lips as he tried to force a reply.

Azriel felt like a schoolboy approaching his crush for the first time, and you noticed that the illustrious Shadowsinger was truly lost for words.

"You can take him now, Rhys. I'll come by in the morning."

"Thank you, y/n."

Azriel watched as you bowed your head to Rhys in acknowledgment, "Of course," you told him, your eyes finding Azriel one last time before all he could hear was the patter of your feet against the wooden stairs and smell the lingering scent of fresh berries and sweetened citrus.

Waiting for the morning was driving him insane already, but he would wait for you. He would always wait for you.

The morning had come too quickly, but sleep hadn't found Azriel that night, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the stabbing pains in his chest or the excitement bubbling in his gut at the thought of seeing you again.

After being fixed up, Rhys had winnowed them both back to the River House, Rhys refusing to let Azriel be anywhere else considering you have given him strict instructions to ensure an eye was kept on him, at least until he could walk on his own two feet.

He had forgotten how peaceful the River House was in his miserable meandering through life, he had forgotten its comfort, he had forgotten what it had been like to be around family. His room had been left untouched, his bed made and books still open on the last pages he had read splayed across the desk.

By the sunlight pooling onto his bedroom floor, Azriel could tell that it was nearing midday, which meant that you were going to be arriving any moment. Any movement made him wince, but he found enough strength to be able to sit up in the bed, he knew that you'd want to check the wounds beneath his bandages and wanted to make it easier for you.

His wings were tucked neatly behind his back, and his shadows were sleeping soundly atop his shoulders. Azriel was too busy watching them to notice the opening of his door, only realising that someone else was there when their scent worked its way into his bones.

"You're sat up," your voice was light and soft as you entered, medical bag in hand and dressed in a plain but beautiful taupe gown with low looped sleeves and a corset of brown leather. "That's a good sign."

Azriel's heart stopped at the sight of you, at your hair unbound but the front pieces held back by a cream coloured fabric headband, at the dress and the glowing of your skin in the warming sunlight.

With a small smile, you perched on the edge of the bed, unclipping the clasp of your bag and retrieving some small vials and tubs, setting them down on the bedside table and turning to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Much better," was all he could manage to say, completely mesmerised by the hue of your eyes in the light and shape of your lips, "Thanks to you."

"It's no problem," you told him softly, reaching for the bandages around his torso and taking your time in unwinding them.

In a couple of days he would be as good as new thanks to his other-worldly healing beginning to kick in, and you told him as such as you reapplied the balm and placed two patches to the effected areas on his torso, carefully massaging the balm into the wounds to make sure that it did its job.

"I need to talk to you," he took your wrist in his hand before you could move your attention to the wound on his thigh, his eyes were pleading to talk about something other than his pain, you could feel it flow down the bond that you were trying to adapt to. "I need to know where your head is, with us."

"The moment you looked at me that night was the first time I felt that someone had actually seen me, even if you were drunk," you spoke with a huff of amusement, "You looked at me, and then you took a woman home who is infinitely more beautiful and wild than I am, and then I had to hear everything that everyone says of you. Forgive me if I'm feeling apprehensive and would like to just focus on making sure that you live."

Azriel understood, truly he did, but that didn't make the words sting any less. "I'd like to show you the real me, if you'll let me." His heart thundered in his chest at your silence, and the nerves settled in his gut and swarmed within his heart that was beating for you.

Unable to deny those rounded eyes brimming with hope for a brighter tomorrow, you sighed, "Fine," you told him, "Once you're back on your feet, I'll give you a chance. Now let me work."

The tone of your voice made Azriel release your wrist and settle back into the cushions of his bed, and he didn't make a single sound whilst you worked on the wound buried into his thigh, applying the same balm and wrapping it up before giving him instructions for the ointments and tonic to help the pain. "Thank you for saving my life."

Your eyes found his again and you could have melted at the pure desperation within them, "Well, I couldn't exactly let my mate die now, could I?"

"Will you be back?"

Azriel observed you as you packed up your things, disposing of the bloody rags and bandages in a wisp of smoke. "I have some errands to run but I'll stop by on my way home. Is there anything that you need?"

"Just you."

Even in his state Azriel was a shameless flirt, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the innocent smile from taking over your face, but you couldn't stop the blush from prickling at your skin, and a part of you didn't want to.

"I'll be back later. Eat something and rest, you need to build your strength back up. The tonics can help with the rest and the pain."

Azriel tilted his head in your direction whilst you gathered the last of your instruments, clasping your bag shut and rising from the bed. He knew there was a reason why he had been drawn to you, why you hadn't left his mind, and it was because you were his mate. The one fated to be his. The one thing he thought he'd never be able to have.

And gods, you were the most perfect thing he'd ever seen.

With a gentle and reassuring smile, you squeezed his forearm softly before removing yourself from the room and taking your time in making your way downstairs, dawdling in the halls to examine the artworks and ornaments lining them. Though, you weren't expecting to come face to face with Cassian the moment you moved from the last step.

He wore a shit-eating grin and stood before you with his arms crossed tightly over his chest whilst his eyes slowly drifted to the stairs and what, or rather who, lay resting on the floor above. "Always in the right place, aren't you y/n?"

Luckily for him, you had often been in the right places when he required some healing or tonics, whether it be for him or Nesta during her most recent cycle. "It's quite literally my job, Cass."

Cassian grinned and chuckled deeply, his orbs morphed into sincere and he cleared his throat, "Thank you for what you did last night. Azriel may be difficult but he's family. We'd be lost without him." He laid his large hand on your shoulder in thanks, it was light a weighted blanket, comforting in a way you'd never found in anyone else. "And," he began, sighing, "Rhys told me about the bond. How are you feeling?"

Dropping your shoulders, you shook your head slightly and looked toward the ceiling, worried that Azriel was going to hear what you had to say before finding Cassian's gaze. "I'll tell you what I told Rhys, and Azriel. I don't think I'm the kind of woman he wants. I've heard the rumours, I've seen the kind of women he takes home every night and I couldn't be more different to them. I'll give him a chance once he's better, but that's all I can do right now."

"I understand," Cassian smiled sadly, removing his hand from your shoulder and glancing down at the bag loosely held in your fingers. "Isn't today supposed to be your day off?"

Rolling your eyes, you lightly swatted his chest as you passed by, "Stop analysing my schedule, Cass. I never have days off anyway."

"How else am I meant to know when to come to see you?" Cassian called after you, unmoving from his place at the bottom of the stairs.

"You don't need an appointment to come and see me," you waved him away without turning around, pacing into the lounge and instantly feeling your confused mood lift when you saw Nyx wobblily walking about the room.

The small child, under the watchful eye of Feyre, instantly moved to you, babbling and reaching upward, and you swept him into your arms and felt your soul blossom when he rested his head on your chest. "He loves you," you craned your head to the side at the sound of Feyre's voice, a pencil was lazily held between her fingers and the sketchbook resting in her lap was kissed with the first swirls of grey, "Nyx that is, though I'm sure that Azriel does too," she spoke, setting her things down on the centre table.

"Well I only care about Nyx right now."

You were sure that Azriel could feel your joy and love for the child flowing down the bond, you seemed to be able to feel everything the other felt. His hope, pain, and blissful desires, and your exhaustion and innocent joys.

"I just want you to know that Azriel is probably the best of us," she began, rising to her feet and smoothing down the wrinkles in her skirt, she approached you, eyes flitting between you and Nyx with a serene smile, "He is patient and kind, courageous and gentle, and he has so much love to give. I think the recent period in his life was caused by the belief that he wasn't worthy of it." Feyre ran her fingers through Nyx's short onyx hair, "You deserve to see the real Az, in the way that we see him."

"Thank you, Feyre."

The High Lady hummed softly, "Always," you gently passed Nyx over to her, allowing him to grab your finger in his tiny palm in an attempt to get your arms wrapped around him again. "Are you going into the city?"

"Yes. I have some supplies and orders to pick up, and I'm going to try to enjoy the little time I get to spend by myself."

"Well, have fun. We'll be seeing you later? Why don't you stay for dinner?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude-"

"You're not," the deep voice of Rhys reverberated from behind you, his chest brushed against your back as he passed, heading straight toward his mate and child and kissing them both lightly on the forehead before turning his attention to you fully. "You save us all on a daily basis. You're always welcome here."

"I appreciate that," you swayed back and forth on the balls of your feet, wanting the ground to swallow you whole, "I should get going. I'll see you both later."

It didn't take you long to gather the supplies and orders that you needed for the practice, and once you had dropped them back of Priscilla, who admitted that the day had gone slowly, you decided to take a walk around the city. You browsed the endless bookshops and headed to the markets to see what garments they were selling, settling on a flowing ivory skirt and shimmering pale blue dress.

The sun was setting by the time you were done, bags in hands full of new treats for yourself as well as a new toy for Nyx that you had seen and couldn't not buy.

Scents of honey cured meats and roasted vegetables drifted down the stone path that led to the River House, and you could faintly make out the silhouettes of Rhys and Cassian through the window. And, like she knew that you were stood there watching, Feyre opened the front door and smiled at you, beckoning you closer.

Feyre took all the bags from your hands bar one, the one that you needed to take to Nyx who was already on his feet and swaying over to you the moment you stepped through the door. You knelt on the ground to greet him, the paper bag settled on the floor beside you, "I got you something today," you teased, diving your hand into the bag and retrieving the small stuff bat you had spied at one of the many market stalls that afternoon.

Nyx beamed, taking it from you and babbling his thanks as he moved into your arms, looking up at you expectantly to pick him up, and you did so without question.

"You spoil him too much," Rhys moved to sit beside you on the couch, watching Nyx with a faint smile as he played with his new toy. "Azriel is walking around. Seems that whatever you did is working."

"I would say that it's because of his own determination but we both know that was all me," Rhys laughed at your words, especially at how you had modified your tone to be Nyx-friendly.

"That it was," a sultry voice drifted through the air, sending involuntary shivers down your spine. You glanced over you shoulder, spying Azriel in the doorway with his hands buried into his pockets, looking as perfect as he had that night at Rita's.

His hair was messy, like he had raked his fingers through it with frustration, his skin was golden, and it looked like he had gotten some kind of rest given the disappearing bags that lingered beneath his eyes. The shirt he wore was unbuttoned toward the top, allowing you to see his still intact bandages and the tattoos that swirled the area. His wings were poised and neatly tucked at his shoulders, like he wanted to appear as unthreatening as possible to you.

Azriel appeared shy and sheepish, eyes floating through the room, finding Cassian and Rhys before landing on you and Nyx. So that was what the joy down the bond was, it was Nyx, it was a child that made you feel so light and happy.

Recognising the tension between you both, Cassian took the opportunity to plop himself down on a nearby armchair, setting his feet upon the table where Feyre's art supplies still lay, and spoke, "So, you two are mates?"

Closing his eyes, Azriel wanted nothing more than to punch his brother through the ground and into the realms of hell. Instead, he inhaled deeply, "Yes, Cassian," he gritted through his tensed teeth, noticing that you had chosen to take your awkwardness and pour your attention into Nyx.

"Well? What are you going to do about it?"

Slowly realising what Cassian was doing by the cock of his brow and slight smirk, Azriel decided to play along, "I'd like to take y/n out. I'd like to get to know her and see if she would like to accept the bond."

Cassian turned to you, innocent mischief laced in his orbs, "Y/N. Would you like to go out with Azriel, get to know him and figure out if you'd like to accept the bond?"

Rolling your eyes at his antics and slicing a glare to Rhys who had slightly sunk into the cushions of the seat, you replied, "Yes. I would."

"Great," Cassian shot to his feet with a clap of his hands which made you jump slightly, "Tomorrow. Az will pick you up from the practice."

"Fantastic."

"Amazing."

You and Azriel both spoke in unison whilst Rhys' foot tapped against the floor, raking his fingers across your mind and slipping into your lowered walls. I'm sorry about him. He's always been a meddler unfortunately.

You don't say.

The first date was going well up until it wasn't.

Azriel had arrived at the practice at sundown, flowers in hand, looking more incredible than you could have ever thought he could. It was clear that had spent the entire evening planning your first night alone together, he had taken you to the restaurant along the Sidra and had spent most of the time asking you questions about your work, appearing genuinely interested in the journey you had taken to get you to where you were.

He was intelligent, and soft, and funny in his own dry way, and you were beginning to understand what Cassian and Feyre meant.

It was going perfectly until a woman approached the table, batting her eyelashes toward Azriel and looking to you like you were the biggest pile of nothing on the continent. She was beautiful, long brunette curls and feline honey eyes, and it didn't help like she had the body of a goddess, carved from the finest of marble. You didn't want to admit it, but she made you feel so inferior, so disposable.

Azriel was polite, his fingers drifting against yours the entire time she was at the table, trying to reassure you whilst she essentially asked when she could see him again. In the nicest way he could, Azriel told her that he wasn't interested and asked her to leave, and all that had earned you was a venomous glare and a scoff.

He apologised profusely, and you accepted it, you were willing to let it go. After all, you could understand why women would approach him. Azriel was gorgeous, perhaps the most gorgeous male in all of Prythian, and you couldn't blame anyone for approaching him. If you had that level of confidence then maybe you would have too.

The second time it had happened, it dampened your hopes that a life with Azriel could work.

The Shadowsinger had asked you to go on a walk with him to the markets, he had picked out jewels and other beautiful items that he was sure would look beautiful on you. You had insisted that you didn't need them, that you could but them yourself, but he wasn't having any of it.

It was all going well until another woman showed up, curling her painted fingers around his bicep and pressing her body up against his side. Azriel looked visibly uncomfortable, you'd give him that, and like the same women he sent away at dinner, he told her that he wasn't interested and to leave him alone. The woman all but snarled at you, and you knew that you were going to be the talk of the city, that you were going to be known as Azriel's newest flame.

Unfortunately, it just kept on getting worse.

The people of Velaris had begun coming into the practice faking injuries just so that they'd be able to speak to you and pull the situation between you and Azriel from your lips. It was tiring. Everyone had their pasts, you knew that and you were fine with Azriel's, but it didn't mean that you wanted it waved around in front of your face.

Every single fake patient that waltzed through the doors to your practice served as a constant reminder that you'd never be good enough for Azriel. But you had seen the good in him, you had seen how much he respected you, how his eyes lit up when you spoke about whatever it was that you were passionate about, and you felt his adoration flow down the bond whenever you would see Nyx. You knew that Azriel was smitten, but you also knew that he had no idea just how much everything was effecting you.

It had all come to a head the night he had suggested to make you dinner at his apartment, to minimise the risk of anyone approaching you, and you deduced that it must have been Feyre's idea. Not even the Inner Circle were free of the city gossip mill.

He had done his best to be as comfortable and romantic as possible, and you knew that he wasn't expecting anything to happen, he just wanted you to see how serious he was about you. Candles lined the ledges, and he had placed pillows at the coffee table before the large arched windows which allowed you to see the entire golden valley of Velaris.

It was beautiful. It was perfect.

Then, halfway through the dinner he had impressively made by himself, the door to his apartment opened, and before your eyes stood the same blonde bombshell he had taken home the night you had seen him for the first time. Your breath became lodged in your throat, and all you felt was disappointment and sadness at yet another date being ruined.

"Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt," she walked further into the room, eyes drifting about the candle-filled ledges with a smirk. "I was hoping that you'd be alone tonight," she was brazen enough to remove her coat, revealing little clothing beneath in an outfit that extenuated her curves and breasts.

Azriel's eyes were trained on you, but you couldn't look at him. You folded your hands into your lap and kept your eyes on the floor, trying your best to not cry in that moment, to not appear as weak. But he could feel it, he could feel the sadness and anger bubbling inside of you.

"Come on, Azriel," she purred, golden hair flowing over her shoulders, "Say goodbye to your latest conquest and come back to me. We both know that she clearly isn't what you want."

That was it.

Wordlessly you rose to your feet, hastily gathering your jacket and satchel in your arms before rounding her toward the door. "Don't take it personally, sweetie," she called after you condescendingly, "You just aren't what he needs."

You had never run anywhere, not because you didn't want to but because you enjoyed your slow meandering, you enjoyed watching the world go by slowly, but you sprinted home that night, ignoring his pleas down the bond and instead deciding to shut it off completely as you slammed the door shut to your bedroom.

A couple weeks passed by, weeks of silence which you channelled into your work, opting to take a research trip to the Autumn Court to sample their botanicals for a new balm you wanted to craft. The best part about leaving the city for awhile was that you could work undisturbed by Azriel and the Inner Circle.

Luckily for you, Eris, the new High Lord, was happy for you to experiment your skills and craft on his soldiers and injured townsfolk, knowing of your reputation and passion for healing. He had offered you a place in his court, doting on you often in a bid to get you to stay, but nothing would get you to leave the wonder that was Velaris, no matter how much you wanted to burrow yourself away and hide for eternity.

That morning, you were nestled at the edge of a brook that was passing through the forest just east of Fir Manor, drawing flowers and examining their properties when you heard the leaves crunch from behind you. From the scent, you knew that it was Eris coming to check on you again. He looked good, he adorned a pair of sage green briefs and a cream blouse, and you couldn't forget the brown leather riding boots you loved so much to the point he had gone out and bought you your own pair.

"This is the third time you've stopped by this morning alone," you spoke, not lifting your gaze from your notebook that was littered with colourful sketches and text.

Eris fell to your side, finding a comfortable place on the blanket you often carried around with you so that your body didn't break against the rocks. "I've been invited to the Night Court to see Lucien. I think that they're hoping that you'll join me."

The pencil in your hand froze against the parchment, and you straightened your posture to look at him, at the amber eyes and fire-red hair that he had recently had cut. Eris had been kind to you, understanding the need to escape for awhile, he had immersed you in his culture, had given you many dresses to fit the season, and not once did you see a droplet of hatred within him.

You were aware that the time was approaching to go back, that you couldn't leave Priscilla on her own for much longer even if Madja was back from her holidays and taking the brunt of the patients in the city. Though, you wished you could have a little longer to enjoy the serenity and joy of your work without everything else weighing down on you.

Looking to him, you smiled thinly, tapping the end of your pencil against the parchment of the notebook, "I suppose it's time that I went back anyway. I'm surprised that the practice hasn't burned to the ground yet."

Eris chuckled, his shoulder brushing against your own, "If things are still tense when we're there, you're always welcome to come back with me."

"Thank you, Eris. I really appreciate everything you've done for me."

"Of course," he smirked, "Anything for Prythian's best healer."

The High Lord jumped to his feet, wiping away any small rocks and pebbles of dirt from his briefs before offering a hand to you and helping you up off of the ground. "Always an ulterior motive with you," you lightly scolded him, looping the strap of your satchel over your shoulder whilst he folded the blanket over his arm.

"Can you blame me for wanting you all to myself?" Eris nudged into you, falling in step with you back toward Fir Manor. Once inside the safety of the walls, Eris asked you to pack your things, including the items he had gifted to you, and winnowed you both to the boarder of the Night Court where Rhys was already waiting.

Eris had never seen anyone so desperate to leave his side in years, he watched intently as you babbled some nonsense about needing to get back to the practice, muttering a soft goodbye before disappearing.

"Are you trying to piss Azriel off?" Rhys asked, eyes following your figure through the woodland until he couldn't see you anymore. You reeked of Eris, of Autumn, and wore a dress of burnt orange and riding boots that matched Eris' own. "You know that they're mates."

"For now," Eris quipped with a smirk, causing Rhys to look toward his new ally with confusion, "Can you blame her for questioning it? Considering every time they've been together it's been ruined by one of his one-night whores?"

Rhys was all too aware of what had happened thanks to Nesta who had heard from Cassian, she was too worried about Azriel to not divulge what she knew even though she couldn't stand to be around Rhys. Plus, Nesta liked you, from what little she had seen, she believed that you were a gift from the mother to them all.

"I can't say that I do," he admitted, frowning at the place where you had been stood, eager to get away from him.

It must have been hard, to find out that you had a mate, to give him a chance for it all to be ruined by his past conquests sticking their noses in where they weren't wanted. Then there was the matter of the gossip, of people truly believing you had slipped him some kind of love tonic to get him to want you. It had infuriated Rhys when he had found out, so much so that he had visited those spreading such vile accusations and ordered them to stop or otherwise be banished from the City of Starlight.

Rhys wanted to protect you, he wanted you to be happy even if it wasn't with Azriel.

But not with Eris. Never with Eris.

Unwillingly, Rhys escorted Eris to the House of Wind to be with his brother and new sister-in-law, and returned home to Feyre as fast as he possibly could.

It didn't take you long to catch up with an extremely thankful and tired Priscilla, her blue eyes were brimming with exhaustion and stress, her lips were cracked and her skin was dry. You apologised to her profusely, and thanked her for keeping the practice going whilst you took some much needed time away from the city.

Perhaps Alana was right, maybe Azriel would be the ruin of you.

Priscilla told you that she understood, but that she was happy that you were back. So, you gave her the rest of the week off, feeling alive and ready to dive back into the occupation you adored so much. It turned out to be a quiet day, shipping off some balms and ointments for some follow up patients, some minor cuts from training scuffled that were quickly treated and males sent on their way, and before you knew it the sun had began to set.

The chiming of the bell at the entryway signalled that someone had entered the practice past opening hours. Wiping your hands on your tatty apron, you headed into the waiting foyer, not paying much mind to anything until the scent of cedar and mountains kissed your lungs.

Azriel stood before you, eyes wild and appearing somewhat dishevelled, black bags beneath his eyes from lack of sleep and a certain worried paleness clinging to his skin. His shadows sensed you immediately, shooting from his shoulders and dancing around your waist.

In your haste to work you had forgotten to take a shower or change out of the clothes Eris had gifted you, and you saw that Azriel had noticed the style and scent that surrounded you. But, he swallowed harshly and rasped, "You look beautiful."

His tired words threatened to cleave your heart into a million pieces, "Thank you."

Silence hung between you, heavy and tense, and you weren't sure what to say. Should you apologise for the clothing and the scent of Eris that lingered around you? Should you apologise for disappearing without a trace with no way for him to contact you?

Azriel looked lost, like he hadn't slept since the night you left his apartment in such a hurry, but the words of that woman still lingered in your mind. Conquest. Not what he needs. It dawned on you that he may not have known just how deeply it had effected you, how inexperienced you had realised you were, how insecure these women had caused you to feel.

"I'm sorry, for that night at my apartment. I didn't invite her, I don't know why she even showed up," he took a step toward you and you didn't move, not knowing what it was that you wanted in that moment, "I should have gone after you. I should have stopped you from leaving but you silenced the bond and I thought I was the last person you wanted to see. I was wrong."

"Azriel, I-"

"Please," he took another step toward you, and kept on moving until his fingers caressed beneath your chin and pulled your gaze up to meet his eyes. "I didn't think that I deserved to be loved, not after what I've done. I thought that the mother had taken one look at me decided that I wasn't worth it. So, yes, I slept around, I wanted to do all I could to forget the fact that I was destined to be alone forever even though having a mate, having you, was all that I've ever wanted."

"You are magnificent, y/n. Truly. No woman even holds a candle to you. You are intelligent and passionate, you are beautiful and peaceful in ways that I never thought I'd be able to witness or feel. I stopped wanting to look back, I stopped wanting to say goodbye to the people I love, and then I met you and I knew I'd found the one I wanted to look back to every night and look forward to every morning."

"You are not a conquest to me. I was ready to accept the bond the moment you entered the room that night when I was lying there dying. You are my everything, you are my reason to live and breathe, you are my salvation. I don't want to live my life without you, not after I've gotten to see you in a way I know that no one else has. Please, y/n. Please come back to me."

You could feel the tears pooling atop your bottom lids, his touch was feverish but unrelenting, his hands cupped your face and his eyes searched your soul for a hint of acceptance.

"Azriel, I don't think that I can," your bottom lip wobbled, and the pain of your insecurity bloomed devilishly inside of your chest. "Your past doesn't bother me, and I never want you to think that it does. Every moment I've spent with you has left me wanting you more and more every day. But I'm not like them, I'm inexperienced in intimacy and dedicated to my work, and I can't allow myself to tarnish everything I have accomplished. I can't allow myself to feel small and insignificant anymore."

"You're not small or insignificant, y/n," his brow furrowed and he felt you slipping away, he didn't need the open bond to understand how much pain you were in, not when he could see it all etched upon your face. "You're everything that I've ever dreamed of. Please."

The moment you stepped away from his embrace, Azriel visibly winced, like he had been shot with a nightshade arrow through the heart. "I need time to think, Az. I need space to figure out if I can do this. Be yours but also be mine."

He didn't want to pester you, he didn't want to beg and make you feel like you owed him anything, but gods, did he want to crawl onto his knees and kiss the ground that you walked on. To Azriel, you were the sun, you were the moon, you were the seasons. You were everything.

Azriel swallowed his words, his pleads, and gently nodded his head, stepping forward and placing a chaste kiss on your cheek before retreating from the practice, carefully clicking the door behind his exit.

It took you a few minutes to be able to gather yourself, to be able to move from that spot, but you did, if not for yourself then for Alana and Eris that were making it their mission to take you to Rita's for a few drinks, to allow you to let off a little bit of steam.

In the next hour, you were bathed and donned in a tight metallic bronze dress with a high slit that reached your hip, a plunging neckline and hair waved down your spine. Eris was always barking at you to live in the moment, and for once you were inclined to agree. So when he and Alana saw the light spill from your opened door, did they turn around and gasp at the woman who stood before them.

"I didn't know that you could clean up this well," Eris mused, earning a light slap on the shoulder as you moved from the practice to join him and Alana on the walk up to Rita's.

"I told you that I could look good when I wanted to."

Alana hummed knowingly, "And this has nothing to do with the fact that you told Azriel you needed space?"

"Maybe a little bit."

Eris laughed, bold and proud, "Showing the Shadowsinger what he's missing. I didn't know that you had it in you."

Rolling your eyes, you noticed Rita's in the distance, and the queues of fae waiting to be allowed in, "This is actually for me. I'm tired of feeling inadequate and looked over. Tonight everyone gets to see that I'm not something to be ignored."

After a short walk up the paved hill, the two fae guards on the doors quickly ushered you inside, and the scent of alcohol and the thick wall of sweat instantly crashed into you. Alana excused herself to go and get drinks for you all whilst Eris led you over to the booth where Lucien and Elain sat, across the room from the others but in their direct eyeline.

Whispers sprouted around you, causing your shoulders to tense up. The healer that had been meddling with the Shadowsinger was now latched to the hip of the High Lord of Autumn.

What a cunning little thing.

So much ambition.

You did your best to ignore them as you walked behind Eris toward his brother and Elain, smiling sweetly at the pair as they rose to greet you, hugging you tightly and telling you how nice it was to be able to finally meet you. Elain was charming and kind, and Lucien was warm and welcoming, and they took you under their wings effortlessly, blocking out the demeaning whispers from the fae surrounding and watching you.

After a few more drinks and shots, thanks to Alana, you found yourself leaning into Eris' side, hazed by the heat and slightly tipsy. You laughed with Elain and shared your love of flowers with her, and you spent time with Lucien telling him how beautiful you found his home court, speaking of the markets and the food in detail. "Sorry brother, but I'd like to steal y/n for a dance."

Eris was stood at your side, looking down at you expectantly with his hand offered out to you. Part of you should have known better, you should have known that Azriel was watching you from across the room, watching as the love of his life was swept away by another Vanserra.

Nudging you to your feet, you sent Lucien a wry smile as you took Eris' hand and allowed him to lead you to the centre of the dancefloor. He pulled you close to his chest and swayed with you to the beat of the music that flowed through the room.

"Does Azriel even know what he's missing?" Eris spoke lowly into your ear, lowering his mouth to the shell of it so that you could hear his voice in your soul. "If I were him, I'd crawl across the fires of hell to have you."

Eris was being brazen. He raised his fingers to your face, the tips of them flitting across your cheek to a strand of hair that had fallen down the side of your face, pushing it back eloquently behind your pointed ear. His fingers lingered, sparks of fire nipping at the skin of your neck as his fingers travelled downward.

You weren't sure what to expect, but you couldn't exactly blame the fist that had flown into Eris' jaw, sending the High Lord crashing to the floor. Azriel stood over him, the crowd had parted to watch the spectacle vying for your attention. Your eyes had blown wide, and it took you a moment to come back into the room. Azriel turned from Eris and stalked over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and resting his chin on the crown of your head as he made the world dissipate in swirls of colour until you were stood in the centre of his apartment.

Azriel towered over you, eyes wild and possessive. You hadn't seen him look to territorial before, but the look in his eyes had you in a chokehold. "My past with females isn't what bothers you. It's having it in your face constantly, it's the whispers and cruelty that bothers you. I understand that now, and I'm sorry that I didn't see that before." Azriel's voice was calm, too calm, like a predator prepping their prey, luring them into wings of security.

His marred fingers traced where Eris' had once been and his eyes flickered with fury, "But Eris does not get to touch you like that. You are mine, y/n. I refuse to let you go."

"You are not what they say you are," he took a step toward you, the force of his knees against your thighs ushering you backward, "They are jealous of you, of us, because they'll never get to know what this is like. They'll never get to know the taste of your skin or the way your name sounds on my lips. They'll never get to know the love I have for you," his hand gripped your waist, and Azriel continued to walk you backward until the backs of your legs hit the ledge of his couch.

"Because I do love you, y/n. With everything I have, I love you. I knew it from the moment I saw you, I knew that I was going to fall in love with you. Nothing could ever take me from you," his lips brushed over your collarbone, igniting a fire within you that you had never felt before, "I am yours forever. And I promise you, I vow that no one will ever make you feel insignificant ever again. Not unless they want to die by my hand. I would rip the world apart to ensure your happiness."

Azriel's words struck a chord inside of you, and you couldn't help but allow the bond to open, to allow his flood of emotions to crash into you like waves against the Summer Court rocks.

"Azriel," you spoke his name breathlessly, too focused on the sensation of his lips peppering soft kisses along your collarbone and neck. "Please."

He pulled away from you, placing his hands on either side of your neck and stroking his thumbs against your ears, "Tell me."

You had known for a long time, since the moment he had turned up at the steps of your practice holding flowers with a love-sick smile plastered on his lips. "I love you too," and you felt the bond sing at your admission, so brilliant and bright that your heart felt like it was going to lurch from its cage. "Please, Az. I need you."

Azriel lowered his lips to yours, hovering a feathers touch from your own, his breath scented with the faint aroma of whisky fanning over your face. With your slight nod, Azriel closed that gap and felt the bond fall into place, thrumming and secure, on the cusp of being fulfilled.

Your mouths moved in sync against one another, and Azriel effortless scooped you into his arms and carried you over to his bed, setting you down as gently as he could before climbing on top of you. His hands roamed your body, the curves of your hips and the mounds of your breasts, his fingers traced circled into the skin of your exposed thigh, teasing the sensitive area and smirking against your lips as you writhed beneath him under his touch.

His lips moved to your neck, sucking and nipping the skin there between his teeth, allowing you to begin unbuttoning his shirt to expose his toned chest. Azriel pulled away slightly when your fingers began drifted over the areas where his wounds once were, the wounds you had saved him from. "They're gone," you told him quietly, lips swollen but smiling under the dim light.

Azriel brushed your hair behind your ears and brushed his nose against yours, dragging the tip down the slope of it, "I told you that you were my salvation. I wasn't lying."

"I'm starting to believe that."

His eyes sparked with mischief and he sent a wave of love down the bond as he kissed your lips once more, "Let me show you."

And so he did.

Author's Note

SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭

Really hoping that this has done the amazing ask some justice 🥺

Also I was so close to writing smut for this fic - looks like I'll need to do a part two or something...

Taglist

@mokansa @killseinx @lady-targaryens-world @brieftriumphnightmare @thesunloveschips @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog

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rafeyscurtainbangs · 1 month ago

Text

"𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥" - 𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 𝐨𝐟 𝟑

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙱𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐆𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 | 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤

*total fic is 15k

5.8K

𝓇𝒶𝒻𝑒𝓎𝓈𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒷𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 - 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙/𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖊

⚠️warnings contain spoilers⚠️

Mean!Rafe, Bully!Rafe, bulling, Rafe is an ass, name calling, degredation, swearing, drinking, smoking, drug usage, kissing, praise, size kink, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), rough oral, multiple orgasms, spanking, violence, fighting, ownership kink, pet names, multiple POVs, violence, gore, horror, stalking, blood mentioned, gaslighting, lovers to enemies to lovers, reader is quick to forgive, mentions of mutual masterbation, teasing, cheating, possessive Rafe, jealousy

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Sweetheart! Reader isn't from the OBX. She met Kiara (roomate) at college and quickly became friends with the Pogues. The group decided to join the reader, working at Camp Salem which she attended every summer since she was little. After junior high she became a camp counselor herself. Sweetheart!Reader is just that, a sweetheart. She's a lover-girl and quick to forgive. She's hard to read regarding her sexual experience-her sweetness is irresistible to Rafe. He fantasizes about corrupting her and stripping her of that. Sweetheart!Reader wears her heart on her sleeve, making her the perfect target for her bully, Rafe Cameron.

𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮’𝓼 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Canon-wise this Rafe is the closest to Season 1 Rafe. He is the definition of touch starved, touched but untouched, craving intimacy because it makes him feel better, even if it's just for a few moments. The only awful thing he did in his past in this AU is to be an asshole to the Pogues. He and the Kook trio are serving community service hours assigned from the university at Camp Salem after getting in trouble for something at the end of the last school year (undisclosed drinking violation). This being something they couldn't pay their way out of.

Rafe’s POV:

“You ready, baby?” I murmur as I stretch out my legs, watching as she walks into the water nice and slow. Her hands relax at her sides, skimming the brisk water. She wanders out into the lake just above her hips, diving into the deep as I take off for my morning run, watching her from afar as I always do.

She glides across the lake, moving fast. I pick up the pace as well, trying to get to my regular spot on the trail before turning around with her. I used to tell myself I was just out for a run, but that’s a lie. Telling the boys it was simply part of my morning routine, but who am I kidding? It’s all for her.

It’s the only time I get to see her without her guard up; she’s been on edge all summer ‘cause of me. I know. I pushed her away…further, if that’s even fuckin’ possible. Made her feel unsafe in her favorite place. This fuckin’ hell hole…

Every stroke she takes pulls her farther from the beach. She’s a strong swimmer, but why the fuck is she out here all alone? What if she gets tired? What if something happens? She needs me.

And I need her. Fuck, I need her so damn bad.

This is my last weekend. I’ve wasted every possible second. I gotta make this right, even if I just get to apologize. I don’t want her to hate me even though I’ve given her every right to. I’m an idiot. I always get in my own way. I’m a goddam asshole. And this summer just highlighted that tenfold. She’s amazing. She’s so good at what she does: with the kids, with her friends. She lights up every room she walks into, and here I am, snuffin’ her out at every turn.

Y/n’s beautiful. Fuck, she’s stunning. Every time I catch a glimpse of her, I feel my heart break a little more. There’s somethin’ about her here, too. Maybe it’s the lake. Maybe it’s the summer heat. But I can’t help but picture the two of us out on my boat, her sun-kissed skin and the glimmer of the open water shining on her hair. I can’t help but think about how pretty she’d look in her little bikini, lying on my chest as we unwind on the boat deck, rolling with the waves.

That could have been us.

How did I get this deep into summer without telling her I was sorry, without admitting how cruel I was? Without telling her just how much I think about her? I had all this time, and I wasted it being angry and cold, being a fucking coward.

When I leave, she’ll finally get to relax. She might lift her head for the first time all summer and actually look around, seeing someone who’s gonna treat her like a princess. There’s plenty of guys here. She might fall in love with someone… and she deserves to. She has the right to be happy. I want to be the one that makes her happy. I can’t keep watching her from a distance. What do I have to lose anyway? I’ve already made an utter ass of myself. I’m at rock bottom.

I need to tell her I’m sorry… for everything. I need to let her know how I feel.

I stand at the lake's edge, watching as she swims into shore. My heart pounds in my chest as adrenaline courses through my veins. I study her carefully, watching the little rivers of water roll down her curves. God, she kills me. I draw a deep, ragged breath as she runs her hands through her hair, pawing out the water. I can’t take my eyes off her… I don't want to. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Damn, this morning is hittin’ harder than ever. Morning after morning, I could have made a move, choosin’ the wrong one each time. What about now? Her guard’s down, she’s relaxed. Y/n’s alone without any eyes on her that’ll question her sanity for talkin’ to me. Maybe she’ll hear me out. Fuck me. No…

I watch Kie walk through the sand toward her. Y/n smiles brightly at her friend, a genuine smile I haven’t seen in months. Kiara says something that makes y/n laugh. Carrera is gonna give me well-deserved hell if I even try to get close. I have to get her alone. I need her to know I mean it. I need her to know that I’ve thought about her for months and haven’t stopped. I’ve gotta convince her I'll be a better man if she gives me half a chance. I’ll get my shit together. I’ll be the kinda guy that deserves her. I’m gonna make this right.

𝐿𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉…

Reader’s POV:

“And just like that… fire,” Pope smiles up at you proudly. Your little crowd claps for him as he rises to his feet, giving you all a playful bow. Sarah fiddles with the speakers, pulling up a playlist as the rest of the counselors filter in toward the beach. Free Weekend is the one summer weekend where the camp counselors get to cut loose— a family weekend where all the kids head home for a few days, returning on Monday to finish the last half of the summer. You breathe deeply, looking out onto the calm, dark waters. It’s quiet, peaceful, serene. But that won’t last long. These small moments remind me why I love this place so much.

Pope crashes down on the sand next to you with a beer, passing one your way as JJ blazes up a joint on your other side. “God damn, this place gives me the creeps,” JJ rasps through a smoke-graveled grunt.

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad my ass,” JJ scoffs. “You don't think we all know the stories? Shit’s spooky.”

“Yeah, it’s a little spooky I guess,” you breath as you wrap your arms around your waist, holding yourself a little tighter. Camp Salem was a pure joy during the day: bright and full of life, kids screaming and running around, birds chirping, energy buzzing. But at night, that light gets wiped out completely, the place changing entirely. A thick blanket of darkness falls on everything: the sky, impossibly dark, tall trees looming, shadows shifting all around.

Free Weekend always seemed a little more ominous. When the kids left it felt like they took the life with them. It didn’t help that the camp counselors loved to stoke the fires of fear, telling stories about what happened all those years ago when this was Camp Kildare. Free Weekend… Fourteen Counselors slaughtered at the hands of some campy-80’s-movie-esque slasher. It was bullshit. Nonetheless, those stories stuck in the back of your mind.

The lake shimmers under the moonlight, its reflection painted across the deep waters. The large fire casts embers into the sky, floating away into the distance, a red hue mixing with the stars twinkling in the sky above. The party starts to surge around you—still, no sign of Rafe. You bite at your lip nervously, trying to focus on the conversation between the pogues, but you can’t help but catch yourself looking out for him. You peer through the deep woods that line the beach, cabins set just behind, darkness, and trees swallowing up the rest of your view.

It had been a long summer with Rafe. He took out his frustration in the worst way. Who would have thought he would be so bad at managing his emotions? You laugh to yourself at the ridiculousness of that thought. He was such a dick. So, impossibly mean. I'm patient; still hanging onto our time together by a thread. But I’ve had about enough.This is his last weekend here. His probationary hours are all but complete. His worry about getting kicked out of the frat finally squared up. Even though he’s an asshole, there's this part of me that wants him to stay. What’s wrong with me?

Your stomach flutters as you hear his voice. Rafe walks down the little pathway with Kelce and Top, laughing about something. Rafe punches Thornton playfully, rough enough to make him stumble, the blonde already drunk. Kiara huffs out a disheartened breath, seeing the trio. The three shuffle through the sand, making their way to the fire.

Rafe sits down, trying to act casual, but there’s obviously something on his mind today more than the rest. He’s snuck a few more glances than usual; his stare a little more pensive than his usual glare.

The bonfire casts flickering shadows across his sharp, tight jawline. He leans closer, flexing his arm muscles unknowingly, straining his sun-soaked t-shirt. Rafe takes off his hat, running his hands through his hair, turning it backward instead, letting you see his beautiful eyes. His gaze shifts to yours, catching you staring, but this time you keep your focus on him. Rafe’s eyes narrow slightly, sizing you up but not in the way he has been— with kinder eyes.

The air between you thickens more, building from the moment you saw him watching you at the lake. For a split second, you thought he was about to break. But when Kie came over, everything changed. He walked away reluctantly, it seemed. What if he was going to apologize? Maybe I’m overthinking it.

You smile softly, hoping to ease the pressure, and like some dream state, he smiles back slightly, the corners of his perfect lips curling up; his eye flutter, the man unsure if he believes it himself.

Holy shit.

Rafe’s POV:

Is that a smile? Oh my god. I feel like I have to pinch myself. That… that’s a real smile. Her smile. Just as I hit my high I'm struck down again. My stomach twists as I watch an arm wrap around her shoulders, pulling her close, whispering in her ear. She giggles that sweet fucking giggle, rolling her stunning eyes away at what Heyward has to say. Pope? You fucking kidding me? My heart shatters. Why wouldn’t he go after her? Why wouldn’t she have people pinning after her? I knew it would fucking happen… I knew that she would find someone. But how did I not see this coming? Is this a new thing? Don’t tell me I’m watching the start of their fuckin’ relationship. I’ll lose my goddamm mind. I grit my teeth and clench my fists, feeling myself right on the brink of a breakdown, seconds away from crashing out completely.

I underestimated just how hard this would be… Seeing her with someone else. Pope Heyward... Fuck that guy. He has no business being that close to her. My blood boils at the thought of him having what I yearn for—getting my girl. My chest tightens with anxiety, making my labored breathing that much harder. She’s too smart. That smile toward me meant nothing… Topper was right all those months ago. She’s done with me. She deserves better. She found better. Fuck everything. If she hates me, fine. At least she feels something for me.

Reader’s POV:

”I’m gonna get a beer. Anyone want anything?” You ask as you rise to your feet. JJ holds up two fingers, gesturing for two beers as the rest is waves you off with a ‘thank you’ and a smile. You foot through the sand, heading toward the coolers on the fringe of the woods. Leaning over you snag three, turning around, gasping as you bump right into Rafe’s big chest.

“Three, huh?” He cracks up.

“They’re obviously not all for me.”

“Obviously,” he taunts. “Drinkin’ three beers would require you to pull that stick outta your ass, and we both know you’d never do that. Now, would you?” You suck your teeth and step around him, but he strides in your path, letting out another laugh, getting off on making you uneasy. “Ain’t it exhausting being such a goodie-two shoe? Don’t even get me started on what a prude bitch you are-”

”Enough,” you shout. Pope, JJ, and John B stand up instantly, staring in your direction; posturing—challenging Rafe to mess with you again.

“Wait… Wait a damn minute. Are you fuckin’ all three of ‘em?” He whispers cruelly, close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your neck. “You’re a fuckin’ whore. Aren’t you?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Leave me alone,” he mocks your voice, reaching out his big hand, hooking his finger around your belt loop, pulling you in. “You don't want that. You love this shit. Bet’you're soaked, princess.”

“You’re pathetic, Rafe.”

“Have fun with your boyfriends, sweetheart. I'm sure it’ll be a long night for a slut like you. You got three holes for a reason. Ain’t that right?”

“You’re a pussy, Rafe.”

“‘S’cuse me?” He snorts out a little chuckle. “What was that now?”

“You heard me. Can't say you're sorry. Can't admit you like me… You’re a fuckin’ pussy and everyone knows it.”

“M’not,” he whisper, swallowing hard, thrown off completely, trying to regain the upper-hand. “I can’t wait to leave this shit hole— then I don’t have to see your priss-ass every day.”

“Keep lying to yourself, Cameron.” You push past him, walking toward the fire as you scrunch your nose, holding back tears of frustration as the pogues look back up at you. You pass JJ his beers before cracking open one of your own, quickly downing it; plucking the joint out of Maybank’s fingers next.

“Rough night. Huh?” JJ asks, making your group laugh as he states the blatantly obvious.

”Just gotta get through tonight,” you sigh through a sticky cloud of weed smoke. Pope scoots a little closer, lessening the space between you. He looks down at you with warm eyes, giving you a soft, sweet smile. It had been a fun summer with him so far; there was no denying Pope’s boyfriend material, but there’s a piece of your heart that’s holding you back…

You look across the fire, watching as Rafe talks with his friends. He chuckles between sips of beer, seemingly unaffected by your exchange, an arrogant swagger in his body language letting you know that he still know, regardless of where the two of you stand, he has your focus. Rafe looks your way, catching you red-handed. He smirks at you, continuing to torture you without words at all.

“Hey,” Pope breathes as he rests his large hand on your thigh, guiding your eyes back to him. “Forget about him. Alright. He’s just a dick… Always been a dick.” Pope keeps his hand sat, rubbing his thumb lazily, keeping you grounded. You give him a soft smile and a nod.

You’re trying your best not to look, but when you turn your attention to Kie, her eyes are focused in Rafe’s direction. She chuckles delightedly and shakes her head, obviously amused with something. You turn your attention to Rafe, watching him watch youl, his body language quickly betraying him. He crosses his big arms over his broad chest, lips pressed into two thin lines, as his eyes cut into you like daggers.

“Looks like someone’s night took a turn,” Kiara chuckles. You laugh as well; a mixture of excitement and nerves. Your laughter and smile making the tensions between the two of you heighten even more.

“I mean… We could have fun with this.” JJ hums against the lip of his beer bottle before taking a swig.

“This is a bad idea,” Kie warns.

“Of course it is. Stupid things have good outcomes all the time... You know that, Kie. Now, who of us does he hate the most?” Everyone in your group raises their hand, causing more laughter.

”Honestly, it seems like Pope,” John B adds.

“‘Course it does,” Pope clips. “You in?” He cocks his eyebrow at you mischievously.

Why not? You nod and smile as you lean into him, resting your hand on his cheek as you brush your thumb along his bottom lip. “He’s gonna kill you,” you coo. But to Rafe and the other kooks it looks like you’re mumbling sweet nothings to Heyward. Giddy energy courses around you as the group feeds off of Rafe’s growing rage.

“Yeah - What’s new?” Pope mumbles as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss, stopping right before your lips meet, sharing breath with you. “We don’t have to kiss. It’s alright. I'm sure this is enough-” You steal Pope’s words off his lips as you press yours against his in a deep, searing kiss. You let your mouth move with Pope’s, relishing in the moment of peace, knowing this would bring nothing but drama. The pogues hoot and hollar. You pull away slowly, the two of you looking back at each other, unable to deny that the kiss was great regardless of the situation.

“Yeah, that was hot. He’s pissed,” JJ blurts, making the reality of the situation sink in fast.

Holy Shit.

JJ leans into the campfire, a broad, sinister smile painted on his lips as he prepares to tell the story of ‘84, laying on the theatrics thick. “Sit back and relax. Grab a beer. Let me tell you about what happened here.”

“That rhymed,” John B. smiles and nods, elbowing JJ, who smiles proudly.

"M’a storyteller. What can I say? Well, it was the summer of ‘84… At this here camp,” he drawls as he motions his hands around the fire, catching everyone’s eyes. “Camp Kildare… Camp Kill. It was Free Weekend, just like tonight—a warm summer even, such as this. The counselors were young, carefree, horny-“ He lets his voice get swallowed up in the cat-calls of the crowd. “No one noticed the counselors gettin’ picked off one-by-one, everyone figured they were just couples slippin’ away for some advanced cuddling in the bunks. But then, a few too many started to disappear. Ain't no way all of ‘em were bangin’ one out. I mean, the kids are gone. Right? It’s quiet and eerie. Losing thirteen people is a little hard to ignore. First was Max. He ran up to the mess hall fridge to snag a keg. The next were Joy and Casey, who slipped away for a quickie in cabin five. After that, odd shit started happening left and right.”

“People started separating from the rest, only to get slane brutally. One lone counselor remained: Peggy Dates. They found her the next day, fightin’ for her life around what little remained of her fellow counselors, all slashed to pieces. In the middle of the welcome sign, they found an axe, buried deep in the lumber, dripping with the blood of thirteen…”

“Now we all know them filthy kooks only want one thing, and one thing only: cash money. I’m ass at math, so don’t quote me on this, but twenty years ago they decided to open the camp again, giving it a new name, thinkin’ no one would notice. But it’s hard to ignore it… There’s evil here. You can feel it— hear it. See it,” he whispers just above the crackling of the fire as he points toward the inky black woods.

“The Kildare Slasher is still wandering out there, just waitin’… So if you see a man walking around the timbers in a ripped plaid shirt, wielding an axe, just run. RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!” JJ screams, making the crowd around the fire shout with terror and thrill. You lean into Pope and him into you, cuddling closer.

Rafe’s eyes drill into you from across the fire, his focus never leaving you, frustration, confusion, rage, all but boiling over as he scowls at you, wearing his possessiveness on his sleeve. Ever since everything went down, he never had to fight for your attention; he always had it, even if you weren't talking. He was never worried about someone taking you because, at the end of the day, he knew how hung up you were on him.

But tonight burned. He hated seeing someone else get your attention. He hated seeing someone else making you laugh and smile. His lip twitched with anger, fists tightening as he watched your fingers lace into Pope’s. And in that moment, you saw him physically holding himself back, every fiber of his being wanting to storm across the fire and take back what was his.

Instead, he sits there and stews some more, plotting his next move. He smiles smugly; his next plan of attack coming sooner than he hoped as he watches Zoey Peters stand up from her makeshift seat on a log. She brushes off shorts, the curves of her plump ass poking out of the bottom of her cut-offs; tits spilling out of the top of her shirt. Rafe’s tongue pokes in his cheek. You watch him, his calculated daze morphing into a come-hither stare. Zoey takes the bait effortlessly, strolling toward Rafe with a smile. He looks up at her from his seat on the cooler; the beautiful blonde slotting herself between his thighs, his hand instantly resting dangerously high on the back of her thighs.

He gives her a cocky smile, mumbling something charming that makes her giggle. Rafe grabs her hand, guiding her to sit on his lap. His eyes fall down her body, landing on her perfect tits, drifting higher ‘til they set on her full, glossed lips. Fuck, he’s an asshole. It’s so clear he’s doing the same thing I am… His eyes dance between the two of you as they chat. He’s so obvious about it; it’s maddening. He’s really trying to fuck with me like he hasn’t already been doing that ALL fucking summer. His large hand gropes her bare thigh as he leans in, whispering something in her ear, making her turn away bashfully. I can’t help but feel the sting; déjà vu hitting hard. Whatever…

“You wanna go down to the water?” You ask Pope, who looks over at you with a smile.

“I’d love that.” He grabs your hand, helping you to your feet, the two of you shuffling down the beach toward the lifeguard house. You step through the cool sand, leaving the warmth of the party to a place more private. “So?” Pope looks down at you, saying so much with a single word.

“So?” You sigh, tipping your heavy head on his shoulder, your body relaxed from the liquor and smoke, not too much, just the perfect buzz.

“How long until Cameron’s stomping over here asking ‘what the hell are you doing-”

"Where the fuck are you two goin’?" Rafe spats. Pope laughs weakly, the comedy and predictability of it all too much. Pope’s fingers twine into yours, silently letting you know that he’s not afraid. “What are you doin’ Huh?”

"Just hanging out, Cameron. What does it matter to you?” Pope challenges. “Don’t you have a girl? Where’s Zoey?”

“Oh, fuck off, Heyward. We both know why I was talkin’ to her. Aight? Now I’m gonna ask you one more fuckin’ time. What are you doin’ with my girl?”

“Your girl?” Pope laughs. “You’re joking? Are you his girl, Y/n?” You look up at Pope confusedly, shrugging like you’re unsure, just fucking with Rafe at this point. “We all know the answer to that,” Pope mocks. “You’ve been harassin’ her all year; been a fuckin’ asshole to her all summer. ‘Course you’re not-”

“You’re not gonna talk to her ever again. You understand?”

“She’s my friend,” Pope scoffs. “Of course, I’m gonna talk to her, you fuckin’ psychopath… We done?”

“Far from it,” Rafe laughs.

“You wanna be done, sweetheart? We don’t need to do this with him,” Pope looks down at you with a glint in his eye, using a pet name to stiffen the blow.

“Call her sweetheart again. Please,” Rafe pleads maniacally; an unhinged look in his eye as he stares backs at the two of you.

”You hard of hearing, sweet cheeks?” Pope smiles making Rafe lose all control.

“FUCK OFF, POPE. THIS IS BETWEEN ME AND HER!” Rafe shouts. His voice thundering in your chest, fists clenched at his sides, as he steps into Pope’s space.

“You just want her ‘cause she’s with me, man. You don’t care about her.”

”Don’t fuckin’ speak for me,” Rafe barks, the two standing head to head, preparing to fight as the kooks and pogues run down the beach toward the three of you. "YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE WHAT’S MINE, BITCH?" Pope swings, striking Rafe in the jaw, surprising you both; knuckles against flesh, making him struggle back, holding his face. Your hands clamp over your mouth in shock as the beach floods with panic. Kelce, Topper, John B, and JJ jump in as well; a barrage of big bodies going at it, blow-for-blow.

The light from the campfire in the distance is your only source of light as you and Kie do your best to pry the boys off each other. Rafe regains his footing, wiping the blood from his lips, his piercing blue eyes brimming with fury. He runs forward, tackling Pope to the ground, the two grappling in the sand. "RAFE, ENOUGH. STOP!” You shriek as he gets the upper hand completely, pounding Pope into the beach.

Kelce grabs Rafe by the back of his shirt, yanking him off before he can do any more damage—Rafe fights against his hold, barking threats at Pope as Kelce holds him back. ”STAY AWAY FROM HER, HEYWARD. STAY THE FUCK AWAY.”

You pout your lip, looking into Pope’s beautiful brown puppy dog eyes, blotting away the blood on his cheek. He sucks his teeth, eyes pinching shut in pain. "Well, that went about as well as expected,” Kie groans, giving JJ a side-eye as he glides his tongue along some paper, rolling up a joint.

“I had a great night. What are you talkin’ about?” JJ smiles, his lip split and bloody, one of his eyes swollen shut. You cup his cheek in your hand, looking back at him regretfully as you sigh.

“He’ll be gone tomorrow. Maybe we should have avoided the whole make-him-jealous thing. Don’t you think?”

“Our first mistake was listening to Maybank,” Pope whispers, making JJ scoff.

“Talkin’ shit… Damn, Pope. You’re on a roll tonight, baby. Didn't you throw the first punch too, man? Proud of you-”

”He did,” you answer for him, pressing the bandaid against his cheek. “You didn’t have to do that, Pope.”

“It was my pleasure, truly. I hate the guy. Got to say my piece. Got to get under his skin. Maybank was right. This is a great night,” he smiles. “Definitely worth a scrape or two.

“Or three…”

“Rafe deserves to hear all the shit he put you through… M’guessing you still wanna be with him?”

You shake your head ‘no,’ but the whole room knows you’re lying. “That's not true-”

“Liar, liar. Pants on fire,” JJ mutters through his exhale. “Very, very questionable taste in men but we've come to terms with it.”

“Have we?” John B laughs weakly, picking the joint off JJ’s fingers before resting it between his lips.

“I don't know... Kie was right all along. He’s a-”

“Walking red flag,” the room chants in unison.

“Mhmm… He is. He’s a mess,” you sigh.

“But…” JJ mocks you, waiting for you to continue the words you're too embarrassed to say aloud. I still want him.

“Ya know… He said that the three of us were “doing it.”

“Yo… It as in sex?” JJ blurts as he chokes on his smoke. “I am so in.” You roll your eyes and laugh, returning your attention to Pope again.

“Thank you for tonight.” He smiles at you sweetly, taking your hands in his.

“Anytime, Y/n-”

”Hey.” The five of you turn toward the noise as Zoey peers inside, searching the room before meeting your gaze. “Have you seen Paisley?” She asks worriedly.

“Uh, yeah,” Kie mumbles. “Cabin four with Trevor, what, like thirty minutes ago?”

“Oh,” Zoey giggles, putting two-and-two together. “Maybe I’ll give her a bit.”

Pope hops off the counter, wincing slightly as he adjusts his body to stand straight, his muscles aching. “Let me walk you to your cabin.” You smile and nod, taking his hand in yours.

The two of you walk down the row of cabins, the strain of the evening somehow lessened, leaving everything a little lighter. Pope pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “Thank you again, Pope,” you mumble against his chest, listening to the soft pattering of his heart. “I’m sorry about all this.”

He breathes out a deep breath with you before shrugging and smiling warmly. “You’re my friend, y/n. And good news for you, I love you more than I hate him. So...”

“Love you too. You’re too good to me, Pope.”

“I know,” he grins as he rocks back on his heels, trying not to laugh. “If you need me, just holler, okay? Knowing Cameron he’s not done… Be careful with him.” Pope kisses your forehead before pulling back, looking down at you with a smile. “Have a great night.”

“You too.” You watch as Pope walks away, disappearing into the night toward his cabin. Reaching for your walkie-talkie, you pull it out of your pocket, lifting it to your lips. “Be safe,” you smile.

“I’ll be so safe,” he chuckles.

“Let me know when you get back. I don’t want you to get got by some slasher.”

”Stop, you’re scarin’ me,” he whimpers dramatically.

“Fuck!” You squeak as you're grabbed by your arm. You swing around, meeting Rafe’s gaze, slapping him across the cheek without a second thought. His face snaps to the side; hissing in pain.

“I deserve that,” he mutters before clearing his throat, returning his eyes to yours.

“I fucking hate you, Rafe,” you huff as you swerve around him, walking toward the stairs, but he grabs your arm, pulling you toward him again.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs as he backs you into the cold wooden wall of the cabin. It’s true… it’s not just lip service; I fucking hate him. I hate the way I can’t get over him, the way he’s constantly on my mind even when he treats me like absolute dog shit. I hate that I still like him. “Leave, Rafe.”

“Will you just stop? Please… I’m trying to talk to you. I've been trying to talk to you all day.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. Why would I after everything you’ve done?” Rafe’s chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, towering over you, but he’s never been more powerless.

“I’m trying to make things right—”

“Make things right? Well you're shit at that, Rafe. Hurting me wasn't enough. You moved onto my friends?” You lift your hands, shoving him once, banging your fists against his chest next. “And for what, Rafe? Because you were angry? Because you wanted to prove something? You kept saying I'm yours? I never have been because of you. You didn't want me to be ‘til it was too late. Harassing me for months, then having the audacity to say ‘I belong to you’? Even when we were dating, you couldn't do that. Did you even see what you did to Pope?”

His eyes darken, jaw clenching. “I didn’t want to—”

“He never did anything to deserve that. He stood up for me and said nothing but the truth.” Rafe exhales sharply, looking at the ground as he searches for the right words. “Speak.”

“I was angry. Okay? You were trying to make me jealous. He - Fuck. He was provoking me.”

“Provoking you, Rafe? How?”

“Stop acting like you don’t know!” He shouts, his voice booming through the dim. The summer air hangs thick with tension as he steps closer, voice rising in desperation. “This isn’t some joke to me like it is to them, y/n. They think it’s funny, playing these games, dangling you in front of me to make me jealous. Kissing you, touching you like he did just to piss me off. Trying to make my life hell. I'm already there. I’m miserable!” His voice breaks with the bitterness and pain spilling out of him. “And there the pogues are, laughing at me, pushing me until I snapped. I didn't want to do that. All I wanted was to talk to you.”

“They didn’t make you do anything. You chose to snap. You decided to hurt people because you couldn’t handle your own shit, Rafe.”

“It’s impossible when I see you with other people—”

“And so you lashed out?” You ask, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s not how you fix anything. You hurt people who care about me because you couldn’t control yourself.”

“This whole situation is pushing me and I can't fucking take it.”

“Yeah? Well, this situation, this mess… you made this on your own. Don’t you dare try to blame my friends or Pope for your misery.”

“Are you and Heyward really a thing? Really? I need to know. Alright?”

“You don't get to know. Leave me alone, Rafe.” You do your best to push him off of you, but he cages you in, looking down at you with begging eyes. “Leave. Me. Alone.” He shakes his head. ‘No,’ his jaw muscles coiled, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows his emotion.

“I can’t…” He whispers. “I can’t leave you alone, y/n. I—I came to apologize. For everything. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did: tonight, here, this year… ever. I’m just—I’m so, so sorry, y/n.”

“That’s all you have? An apology?” You ask weakly. “We’re so far past this, Rafe. You know how much awful shit you’ve said to me just today?”

“I know. I know - god, I fucking know. I replay it over and over, y/n… I know I’ve been a jerk. Okay? I know I’ve screwed up more times than I can count. But I like you. I like you a lot. Then I fucked everything up and I didn’t know how to handle it, so I pushed you away. If I kept my distance and acted like I didn’t care, it would be easier for you and me, but it’s not. It’s killing me. I'm sorry, princess-”

“Stop.”

“No. Please just-”

“I said STOP!” You shout in frustration, loud enough to make him flinch. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Rafe. You’re leaving in the morning. It’s for the best.” Your words come out harsher than intended, making his tears slip down his cheeks. “I don’t want to do this with you anymore. The jabs to my heart, the bullying, the mixed signals—I’m fucking done, Rafe. I’m done with you. So just go. It’ll be easier if you’re gone. You're toxic and for some reason I can't get over you. So you gotta go. I want you to go. I’m sure you can’t fucking wait. Just give it a day or two. Huh? You’ll be back on campus; back to your old ways. Sleeping with some beautiful sorority girl and you’ll forget all about me and my priss ass.”

He looks at you blankly, taking in every word, falling apart in front of you. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, like a broken record.

“I’d hope you’d be, Rafe.

His eyes soften on yours; nostrils flaring as he brushed the tear off his face. “Y’know, tomorrow when you wake up, I’ll be gone,” he whispers, voice cracking with sadness.

“I’m counting on it.”

⭐ tags ⭐ tag list on my pinned post (if your name is crossed out, your tag isn't working): @floredaqueen @rafesthroatbaby @loserboysandlithium @nemesyaaa @theeternaloptimistt @ditzyzombiesblog @cl4uus @aariahnaa @hyperfixationgirl @akobx @daryldixon83 @rafesgiirl @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @oxpogues4lifexo @babygorewhore @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @savayvayblr-blog @starkeysprincess @unrealmirrorball @romaescapes @cades-outsider @namelesslosers @anamiad00msday @buckybarnessweetheart

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mssalo · 2 months ago

Text

safety - Part: Il

Summary: After years of isolation, Joel Miller's life revolves around control and keeping danger at bay, his past as a soldier leaving him constantly on edge. But when a sweet, soft-spoken young woman starts working at the supply store, her innocence stirs something inside him. Despite his efforts to remain detached, Joel becomes obsessed with keeping her safe from the dangers he’s certain are lurking everywhere.

As his protective instincts morph into darker desires, the lines between safeguarding her and possessing her begin to blur.

Warnings will vary by chapter depending on the content.

Warnings: Dark!Joel, 18+ MDNI, Obsession themes, Stalking, Breaking and entering, Scent kink, Voyeurism, Joel has major Trauma/PTSD, Mentions of military past, Manipulation, Power dynamics, Male masturbation, Joel, still, needs a hug and therapy. As per usual.

9k. enjoy.

Part I Part III Part IV Part V

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel found out she was working at the supply store by accident.

He hadn’t planned on seeing her again. After that first encounter, he convinced himself he’d walk away.

She wasn’t his problem.

He couldn’t get wrapped up in someone like her—someone who had no idea how dangerous the world really was.

But then, on one of his routine stops for supplies, he spotted her behind the counter.

She hadn’t seen him

At first, he’d assumed she was just a customer again, passing through, but when she’d ducked behind the register, pulling out receipts, it hit him.

She worked there now.

She hadn’t told him that before, hadn’t mentioned anything about it, and yet here she was, talking to customers, rearranging gear, moving around the store like it was something she’d been doing forever.

And for some reason, that made something inside him tighten.

She was here all the time. Regular hours, regular shifts.

Easy to find.

That should’ve made him feel nothing. But it didn’t.

That’s so fuckin’ dangerous.

From that point on, whenever he stopped by the store, he made sure to keep his distance.

He’d walk in, grab what he needed, and leave before she noticed him.

There was something about seeing her there—watching her smile and chat with customers—that unnerved him in a way he couldn’t explain.

She didn’t fit in with the world he knew.

She was too soft, too bright. She belonged somewhere safe, not in a place like this.

Yet, he found himself coming back.

Over and over.

Each time, he told himself it was the last time.

That he’d stop, that he didn’t need to see her again.

But every time he came back, she was there—talking to someone, laughing at some joke, her voice floating through the air like a song he couldn’t get out of his head.

Joel tried to ignore it.

Tried to ignore her.

But she was like a goddamn magnet, pulling him back in without even realizing it.

And then, one day, she spotted him.

“Joel!” she called, her voice bright and cheerful, as if they were old friends.

He froze, his hand tightening around the bag of supplies he’d grabbed.

He’d been so close to slipping out unnoticed, but now she was looking at him, smiling that same smile that made his chest tighten.

“Hey,” he muttered, forcing himself to turn and meet her gaze.

She was standing behind the counter, hands resting on the edge, her eyes lighting up as she looked at him.

These damn pretty eyes.

“I didn’t know you came here so often,” she said, her tone playful.

“What’s bringing you back this time?”

Joel grunted, trying to come up with a quick excuse. “Needed more supplies. That’s all.”

She didn’t seem to notice the coldness in his voice, just kept smiling at him like he hadn’t been avoiding her for days.

“You always seem so prepared,” she said with a small laugh. “I bet you could survive out there for weeks with all the stuff you buy.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. Survive?

She had no idea what that meant.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Her smile faltered for just a second, her eyes flicking to the side as if she wasn’t sure what to say next.

But then she turned back to him, her expression softening again.

“You know, I’ve been learning more about the gear here,” she said, leaning forward a bit. “I could help you with recommendations if you ever need it.”

Joel stared at her, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Why was she still talking to him? Why was she being so damn nice?

“I’m good,” he said, his voice gruff.

But she didn’t stop.

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes bright with curiosity. “You sure? I’ve been reading up on it a lot. Could probably surprise you with what I know.”

You shouldn’t trust me, Joel thought, his mind racing.

Why are you still smiling at me?

He grunted again, shifting on his feet, his gaze flicking to the door.

He needed to leave. Now.

“Well,” she said, that same smile tugging at her lips, “if you ever need anything, just let me know. I’m here most days now.”

Too much information.

Joel’s gut clenched. She shouldn’t be telling him this—telling anyone this. Didn’t she know how dangerous it was to be so open, so trusting?

“You shouldn’t tell people that,” Joel muttered, his voice harsher than he meant. “Not safe.”

Her brows furrowed, her smile slipping for the first time. “What do you mean?”

Joel felt the weight of her confusion settle on him, but he couldn’t stop himself from speaking. “Tellin’ strangers where you work. When you work. Ain’t smart.”

She blinked, taken aback. “Oh... I guess I didn’t think of it that way.”

Of course, you didn’t.

Joel’s mind reeled, his frustration bubbling just below the surface.

You don’t know how to think like that. You don’t know what the world can do to people like you.

But before he could say anything else, she smiled again, though this time it was smaller, a bit softer.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” she said, her voice quieter. “I didn’t mean to—well, I guess I’m just not used to thinking like that.”

Yeah. I can tell.

But instead of saying that, Joel just nodded, his jaw still tight. He needed to leave, needed to stop this before he got in too deep.

Here’s a darker, more intense version of that passage:

“See you around,” she called after him as he turned to leave.

He didn’t reply. He couldn’t.

His throat was tight, his chest heavy. But as he pushed open the door and stepped outside into the cool air, something made him look back.

She was still watching him. Smiling. Soft. So damn innocent.

That look in her eyes—so full of trust—twisted something deep inside him.

She doesn’t know better.

His boots hit the pavement harder than necessary as he made his way to the truck.

Every step felt heavy, like the weight of his thoughts was dragging him down. His hand found the door handle, but he couldn’t make himself move.

Couldn’t shake the way her scent still clung to him, sweet and soft, like she was still standing right next to him.

Joel gritted his teeth, staring down at the truck door, but all he could see was her face.

Her wide, bright eyes, that shy smile, the way she just… trusted.

Trusted him. She shouldn’t.

His body felt hot, the tension coiling low in his gut, his muscles tight.

Too tight.

And then he felt it again—his cock, straining against his jeans, hard and throbbing, a deep, almost painful ache that made his breath catch in his throat.

Fuck.

It hit him like a freight train, sudden and unwanted. His mind raced, trying to push the thought of her away, but the harder he tried, the worse it got.

His pulse pounded in his ears, the heat in his body rising as the memory of her soft voice echoed in his mind.

That innocent, clumsy laugh. The way she fumbled with the gear. The blush on her cheeks.

Joel’s grip tightened on the door handle, his knuckles turning white.

What the hell is wrong with you?

He hadn’t felt this in years. This need. This raw, primal hunger gnawing at him.

His body betrayed him, his cock throbbing harder, almost painfully, as if it knew something he didn’t.

But it was because of her.

The realization, again, made his chest tighten, his breath coming in rough, uneven bursts.

He slammed the door shut, leaning his forehead against the cool metal, trying to calm the storm raging inside him.

No. Not her.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but her image was burned into his mind—her body, her smell, the softness in her eyes.

His cock twitched again, the pressure building, his jeans too tight, the pulse unbearable.

She was so sweet. So oblivious.

And here he was, standing in the parking lot like a goddamn animal, throbbing with need for something he knew he shouldn’t want.

But the thought of her lingered. The way she looked up at him like he was something to be trusted. Something safe.

Joel forced himself into the truck, gripping the wheel so tight he thought it might break.

His heart pounded in his chest, the tension making every breath feel like fire.

He needed to forget her. Get her out of his head.

But his body told him otherwise.

The throbbing between his legs refused to be ignored. His jaw clenched, muscles tight with frustration as the thoughts swirled, dark and unwanted.

He hadn’t felt like this in years. Not since before everything went to hell.

And now? Now this girl—this soft, sweet girl—had him unraveling.

Joel’s head thudded against the back of the seat, his pulse still racing. This wasn’t going to end well.

Not for him.

And definitely not for her.

· · ────

The following days were a blur of uncomfortable tension.

Joel tried to stay away.

He told himself not to go back to the store, not to linger around her.

He even went out on longer drives, tried to immerse himself in the things that usually kept his mind quiet.

But it didn’t work. Not anymore.

She was lodged in his thoughts, a constant, nagging presence that he couldn’t shake.

No matter how hard he tried to forget her, she always managed to crawl back in.

Her face, her voice, the way she smiled up at him like he wasn’t something to fear.

It gnawed at him, a reminder of everything he’d left behind.

A week passed before Joel saw her again.

This time, it was different. He wasn’t just there for supplies or to catch a glimpse of her. No, this time, he watched her more carefully.

Observing.

He kept his distance at first, lingering near the back of the store, eyes flicking toward her every few minutes as she worked.

She hummed to herself again, that same soft tune he’d heard the first time they met.

It wasn’t loud, barely audible under the sound of the store, but he caught it.

And it made something tighten inside him.

For a man who lived in shadows, always on alert, this brightness—this innocence—felt foreign. Her having no need to be quiet so she won’t be seen.

Wrong.

And yet, he couldn’t stop watching her.

She smiled as she spoke to a customer, her eyes lighting up as she handed them their change.

She was so goddamn open, so trusting. And that terrified him.

He told himself it was because she didn’t know better. She didn’t know what kind of world she lived in.

She hadn’t seen the things he’d seen, hadn’t done the things he’d done.

That was why he watched her so closely now.

He was protecting her. Keeping her safe.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

But it was more than that, wasn’t it?

The next day, she found him again, her voice soft but cheerful as she spoke up. “You’re back! Need anything else?”

Joel stared at her for a moment, his chest tightening at how easily she smiled at him. “Just… lookin’.”

She laughed, the sound light and melodic. “Well, if you ever need recommendations, I’m your girl.”

He tried to brush it off, tried to keep his voice steady, his eyes focused anywhere but on her.

But when she started talking about her weekend plans, everything shifted.

“I’m actually heading out for a solo trip this weekend,” she said, her voice filled with excitement.

“Found this beautiful spot just outside of town. Gonna do some camping, get away from everything for a bit.”

Joel’s blood ran cold.

Camping? Alone?

His jaw clenched as he stared at her, trying to process what she’d just said.

A girl like her? Out in the wilderness by herself?

The world wasn’t safe, and she was too naive to see that. She didn’t understand the dangers lurking just beyond the treeline.

“Where?” His voice was rough, demanding.

The softness from earlier was gone, replaced by the cold, hard edge that usually kept people at a distance.

She blinked, caught off guard by his tone. “Uh… it’s just a little spot out past the ridge. Really pretty.”

Joel felt his chest tighten.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” he said, his voice dark, laced with warning. “It’s not safe.”

She blinked, clearly confused by his sudden shift. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice now. “I’ve done this before.”

“No, you won’t,” Joel growled, stepping closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. “You have no idea what’s out there.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide, brows furrowed. “I—”

“You’ll get yourself killed,” he interrupted, his voice dropping lower, more threatening.

His paranoia was slipping through now, his need to protect her—to control the situation—overwhelming him. “You’re not prepared for what’s out there.”

There was a long pause, the tension thick between them. She opened her mouth to speak, but Joel wasn’t done.

“If you’re set on goin’,” he said, his tone calmer now, but still dark, “I know a better place. Secluded. Safe.”

His mind was spinning with the need to protect her, to make sure she was under his watch. “It’s past the ridge. You won’t find it on a map, but it’s perfect for campin’.”

That was his land. His very own property, tucked away from prying eyes, isolated and quiet. His land. Where he could keep an eye on her.

Her eyes brightened again, the tension between them easing just slightly. “Really? That sounds amazing! I’d love to check it out.”

Trusting so easily.

Joel nodded slowly, watching her carefully.

“I’ll give you the coordinates,” he said, his voice rough, his gaze still locked on hers. “Just… be careful.”

She smiled again, oblivious to the darkness brewing behind his eyes. “Thank you, Joel. I appreciate it.”

There's that damn blush again.

Joel nodded again, but his mind was already elsewhere.

She didn’t belong out there alone. And now, after hearing her plans, Joel knew what he had to do.

She wouldn’t be alone.

If she wouldn’t protect herself, then he would

· · ────

It happened by accident, really.

Joel had been driving through town, running his usual errands—another routine day where he tried to keep his mind occupied with anything but her.

It was something he’d been forcing himself to do for the past few days, convincing himself that the tension in his chest would ease if he just avoided her, if he didn’t let himself linger in her orbit for too long.

But fate had other plans.

As he turned down a quiet street on the edge of town, his eyes caught movement.

A figure stepped out of a small, unassuming house, barely noticeable in the corner of his eye.

Joel wasn’t even sure why he slowed down at first. He told himself it was out of habit, that old soldier instinct to assess everything in his surroundings. But the moment he saw her, all rational thought slipped away.

It was her.

She stood there, fumbling with her keys and a couple of grocery bags, her hair falling loose around her shoulders in soft waves.

Joel’s foot hovered over the brake for just a second too long as he watched her struggle to balance the bags and unlock the door.

Her face was flushed, lips moving as she muttered something to herself—a frustrated little quirk of her mouth that made his chest tighten.

There was something different about seeing her like this.

Here, in her space.

Not at the store, not somewhere public. But here—outside her home.

He felt a knot of something unfamiliar, something deep and possessive curl in his stomach.

She didn’t notice him at all. She was too busy juggling her things, her focus entirely on the door in front of her.

Joel’s gaze swept over her as he slowly rolled by, his truck moving at a crawl now.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, even though a part of him knew he should’ve kept driving.

But the pull was too strong.

There was a softness about her here that felt even more pronounced.

Her home, small and tucked away from the busier streets, suited her in a way that he hadn’t expected. It was unassuming, private, but open in a way that made Joel feel… unsettled.

Like she was too exposed, too vulnerable, and too easy to find. Too easy for someone to hurt.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as the thought crossed his mind.

She had no idea how dangerous the world really was. How quickly things could go wrong.

He drove past, the truck moving with painful slowness, his eyes flicking from the road to her again and again.

She didn’t see him. Not once. And for some reason, that bothered him more than it should have.

She hadn’t locked the door when she finally went inside.

Of course, she hadn’t.

Joel’s chest tightened with frustration, his jaw clenching as he drove farther down the road, turning the corner and pulling to a stop just out of sight.

Now that he knew where she lived, something shifted. He couldn’t just drive away and forget about it. No, she was here, alone, with no sense of the dangers that could easily find her.

He shouldn’t care. It wasn’t his problem. She wasn’t his problem.

But that’s not how it felt anymore.

· · ────

It wasn’t until later that night, as he lay in bed, that the dream came.

It wasn’t like the usual ones—flashes of war, the men he’d fought alongside, the sounds of gunfire and the stink of blood.

This one was different and it hit harder than anything he’d experienced in years.

He dreamt of her.

Of her in that house. And something, someone, breaking in.

It was chaos.

She was screaming, fighting to get free, and all he could do was watch, powerless, as she disappeared into the shadows.

He woke up drenched in sweat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest, the adrenaline surging through his veins.

For a moment, Joel couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been real—that she was in danger and he hadn’t been there to stop it.

His hand instinctively reached for the knife he kept near the bed, fingers gripping the handle like it was his lifeline.

His breath came in heavy bursts, his body rigid with the need to protect, to act.

He could still hear her screams, still see her face twisted in fear.

She wasn’t safe.

And it wasn’t just a dream. Joel knew then, in that moment, that he couldn’t let this go.

He couldn’t just stand by and hope for the best.

It was only a matter of time, before something bad would happen to her.

He had to make sure she was okay, had to make sure nothing like that ever happened to her.

And if that meant going out of his way to keep an eye on her, then so be it.

· · ────

The next day, he drove by her house again.

And the day after that.

Each time, he told himself it was just a precaution, just a way to make sure she wasn’t in any real danger.

He didn’t get too close, didn’t let himself be seen.

But every time he saw her, the tension in his chest loosened just a little, knowing she was still there, still safe.

He found out more about her routines—when she left for work, when she came back.

He watched as she went about her day, completely unaware of the eyes that followed her every move.

She wasn’t like the rest of the world—hardened and scarred by violence.

She was soft, untouched by the darkness that clung to everything Joel had known.

And that’s why she needed him.

· · ────

The more he watched her, the more he realized how easy it would be for something to go wrong.

A stranger could approach her on her walks, someone could break into her house, anything could happen.

And if he wasn’t there to stop it… she would be defenseless.

That feeling from the dream—the panic, the helplessness—still clung to him, gnawing at his gut like a festering wound.

He couldn’t shake it, couldn’t convince himself to turn around and go home.

That’s why he had started breaking into her house.

Naturally.

At first, it was just to make sure everything was secure.

He would check the locks, make sure the windows were latched, make sure there were no signs of forced entry.

But the more he let himself in, the more his reasons shifted.

He started checking her camping gear, making sure everything was in place.

Joel crouched down, fingers brushing over the rough material as he unzipped the bag.

His hands moved through her belongings with the same careful touch, checking each item she’d packed.

He frowned when he noticed some of the essentials missing.

No proper emergency gear. Not enough food. Definitely not enough water.

She wasn’t ready.

His chest tightened with a mix of frustration and concern.

She had no idea what she was walking into.

The wild didn’t care how innocent or sweet you were—it tore people apart.

And she was so damn trusting, so clueless about the danger that lurked everywhere.

Joel zipped the bag back up and stood, a plan already forming in his mind.

She couldn’t go out there alone, not without the proper gear. Not without protection.

He’d make sure she had what she needed.

He’d leave it for her—quietly, subtly.

She didn’t need to know he was the one watching over her.

She didn’t need to know just how deep his involvement went.

His feet led him down the hall, toward the room at the end—the door slightly ajar, a soft, warm glow spilling from inside.

Joel’s breath hitched as he stepped further inside, his boots nearly silent on the hardwood floor.

It was small, simple, but unmistakably hers.

A bed with a soft quilted cover, a small nightstand with a book left open, and clothes folded neatly on a chair in the corner.

Joel swallowed hard, his throat dry as his eyes roamed over the space.

He moved slowly, carefully, his eyes scanning the room like he was surveying a battlefield.

Everything was neat, untouched, just as he’d expected.

But as he stood there, something twisted in his chest. He wasn’t just here to check on her safety.

Something else caught his attention.

Her underwear.

At first, it was an accident. He wasn’t looking for it, but when he stumbled upon it—soft, lacy, and used—he couldn’t stop himself.

His hands reached for it before he even realized what he was doing, his fingers brushing against the delicate fabric.

His breath caught in his throat, his pulse quickening.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He knew that.

But the scent—her scent—was intoxicating, wrapping around him like a drug. His mind flashed with images of her wearing it, of her undressing, her skin soft and bare beneath his touch.

Joel’s grip tightened on the fabric, his body reacting in ways he hadn’t felt in years. His jeans grew uncomfortably tight, the throbbing between his legs impossible to ignore. He was so hard.

This wasn’t just about keeping her safe anymore. It was about something deeper, something darker.

He brought the fabric to his face, inhaling deeply, letting the scent of her wash over him.

His eyes fluttered shut, his mind filling with thoughts he had no right to think.

He hadn’t let himself feel something like this —this raw, uncontrollable hunger—but now, standing in her bedroom, holding something so private, so close to her, it hit him like a wave.

Joel inhaled deeply, the scent wrapping around him like a haze, flooding his senses. It was overwhelming, intoxicating.

His eyes fluttered shut, his breathing deepened, and the scent clung to him, almost suffocating him in the best way possible.

The sweetness, mixed with something so personal, made his heart pound harder in his chest, heat rising in his body.

She had no idea.

No idea what she did to him.

How that softness, that scent, chipped away at the walls he build.

His fingers tightened around the fabric as he held it closer, the warmth of her scent flooding his senses.

His mind was clouded with images—images of her.

She shouldn’t be this trusting.

He imagined her standing there, blushing, lips parting slightly, her soft voice spilling from them, completely unaware of the thoughts racing through his mind.

She was just too easy to picture—too easy to want.

too sweet.

Too soft. Too innocent for someone like him.

Joel’s grip tightened as he let his mind spiral deeper into the images of her—blushing, trembling, staring up at him with those wide, innocent eyes that would soon be filled with something else.

His fingers tightened around the fabric, his body responding in ways he couldn’t deny any longer.

He fought to steady his breathing, to push the dark thoughts from his mind, but they were there, lurking just beneath the surface, no matter how hard he tried.

He shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t want her.

He wasn’t just imagining her anymore—he was feeling her, smelling her, letting her invade his mind and body in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

Joel’s jaw clenched, his breathing rough as he tried to regain control.

But the more he let the fabric linger in his hands, the more he realized—he didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to let go.

Joel stayed like that, frozen in the moment, inhaling deeply, the used fabric of her underwear still clutched in his hands as he lost himself in the dark, possessive thoughts swirling in his mind.

He knew it wouldn’t be the last time. He couldn’t stop now.

The pull was too strong, too overwhelming.

Without even thinking, he raised the fabric closer, his lips hovering just above it.

His heart pounded in his chest, a heavy, aching rhythm, the temptation crawling under his skin.

He hesitated for just a moment, knowing how wrong this was, how far he was crossing a line.

But it wasn’t enough to stop him.

Nothing could stop him now.

Joel’s breath hitched, and his lips brushed against the soft material, barely making contact at first.

He could feel the warmth, the faint trace of her cunt, lingering on the fabric, and it sent a wave of heat rushing through him.

His grip tightened.

The softness pressed against his mouth, and for a split second, he let his tongue flicker out, tasting her sweet pussy, just barely.

It was subtle, a hint of something forbidden, but it sent a jolt straight through him.

He felt himself tense, his body reacting in ways he could no longer control, the line between protection and obsession blurring even more.

He wanted more.

Before he could let his tongue get another lick, Joel heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening.

That did certainly stop him.

His body stiffened, and in a heartbeat, all the dark, twisted satisfaction evaporated, replaced by a surge of adrenaline.

His mind raced, his fingers trembling as he fumbled to put everything back exactly where it had been.

Not now. Not like this.

He moved swiftly but silently, making sure every trace of him disappeared. Every drawer closed, every fabric in place. He couldn’t leave any sign that he had been there.

His heart pounded against his ribcage as he slipped out of the bedroom, his movements precise, calculated.

Years of training kept his body moving even when his mind teetered on panic.

The soft sound of her footsteps reached his ears as she moved further into the house.

She was talking to herself again, that light, carefree tune that only made him more desperate to get out unnoticed.

She had no idea.

No idea that he had been so close, no idea of the thoughts that ran through his head while he held her soaked panties in his hands.

Joel paused at the back door, his body pressed against the frame as he caught a glimpse of her through the crack in the doorway.

She was still oblivious, setting her bag down, humming softly to herself. She hadn’t noticed anything. Not the disturbance in the air, not the faint scent of him that still lingered in the room.

So innocent. So trusting.

Must be nice.

He watched her for a moment, his eyes darkening as he observed her, standing there in the home she thought was safe.

He could still smell her on him, the faint scent clinging to his mustache, the lingering effect making his pulse quicken once more.

But he couldn’t stay.

Not now.

With one last glance, Joel slipped out of the house, his movements quick and silent.

He disappeared into the shadows just as she turned toward the hallway, completely unaware of how close he had been—how close he still was.

· · ────

Joel slipped into his truck with the stealth of a man used to evading detection, his heart still hammering in his chest as he turned the key in the ignition.

The engine rumbled to life, but his mind was elsewhere.

The drive home felt longer than usual, each passing second a blur of adrenaline and frustration.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles white, his breathing uneven.

He could still smell her, the faint scent lingering on his clothes, on his skin. It was maddening.

He tried to shake it off, tried to ignore the throbbing ache that had been building since he smelled her sweet little cunt, but it wouldn’t go away.

When he finally pulled up to his house, Joel barely remembered the drive at all.

He parked the truck haphazardly, the door slamming shut behind him as he made his way inside.

His boots hit the wooden floor with heavy thuds, and before he knew it, he was leaning back against the wall in his living room, his breath still coming in shallow bursts.

His breath was ragged, the ache in his body refusing to subside.

The scent of her cunt—still clinging to his beard, his hands—seeped into his skin, a constant reminder of what she had stirred deep inside him.

He hadn’t felt like this in years, hadn’t allowed himself to. But now, there was no going back.

His cock throbbed painfully, straining against his jeans, and for the first time in so long, he couldn’t ignore it.

The need was unbearable, clawing at him, demanding release. He leaned back against the wall, chest heaving, every breath filled with the sweetness of her scent.

It was still there, on him, as if she hadn’t left.

His hand hovered over the bulge in his jeans, fingers twitching, as if fighting the urge to touch.

But the memory of her—the feel of her, the scent of her—was overwhelming.

He couldn’t stop now. He didn’t want to.

With a low growl, he gave in, his hand pressing against his cock, the pressure sending a shiver up his spine.

His jaw clenched as he slowly dragged his palm over the length, the throbbing only growing more intense. The sensation was too much, too sharp after years of nothing.

He hadn’t touched himself like this in so long, and the intensity of it almost knocked the breath out of him.

His cock twitched, hard and aching in his hand, the weight of it heavy as he gripped it tighter.

His breath hitched as he finally pulled it free, the cool air hitting his skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat that was coursing through his veins. fuck.

He stroked himself slowly at first, his rough palm sliding over the swollen, leaking head, the friction making him groan.

He thought he’d never feel this was again.

His mind was a haze of her—her softness, her innocence, the way she had smiled at him, so trusting, so sweet.

She didn’t know what she was doing to him. She couldn’t know.

But he did.

His pace quickened, each stroke more desperate, more insistent. The scent of her was driving him insane.

Sweet like her.

He licked his lips, trying to get some of that sweet, sweet taste back he had earlier.

His cock throbbed in his hand, hard and slick as he pumped it, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

Her face flashed in his mind again—those wide, innocent eyes, the way she had blushed when she looked at him.

She had no idea.

No idea how badly he wanted her, how much he needed her.

Joel’s grip tightened, his strokes rougher now, his hips jerking up into his hand as he chased that release, the pressure building fast.

His cock was pulsing in his hand, slick and hard, aching with the need for something he couldn’t name.

Something only she could give him.

His breath came in ragged bursts, his chest heaving as he pumped his cock faster, harder.

The tension coiled tight in his gut, every muscle in his body straining as the need for release consumed him.

He could almost taste her, the memory of her scent still filling his lungs, making his head swim.

With a rough, guttural growl, Joel’s body tensed, his vision going white as the tension finally snapped.

His cock jerked in his hand, the release hitting him like a storm, fierce and unforgiving.

He groaned low in his throat, his hips bucking as he spilled over his hand, the warmth spreading through him like fire. He hadn’t cum that much in years.

It wouldn’t stop coming out of him.

…well, this was new.

For a long moment, he stayed there, his breath coming in ragged, heavy gasps, his hand still wrapped around his now-softening cock.

The pleasure ebbed slowly, leaving behind a dark satisfaction that settled deep in his bones.

But it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

Because her scent was still there.

Her softness still lingered in his mind, wrapped around him like a shroud, and Joel knew—this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Joel’s mind flickered back to the map, to the spot he’d given her—the spot on his land.

He could see it clear as day, tucked away, isolated, surrounded by woods.

Tomorrow, she’d be out there, alone, completely unaware of what could happen.

His jaw clenched at the thought.

The world was dangerous, filled with things she couldn’t even begin to understand.

But he did.

His pulse quickened, that dark, familiar feeling tightening around his chest.

He’d keep her safe. He’d make sure nothing happened to her—not on his watch.

No one else knew the dangers lurking in the shadows like he did. She had no idea, no clue what she was walking into.

But he’d be there.

Watching.

And if anything—or anyone—tried to hurt her, they’d have to go through him first.

Joel swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his sides. He’d seen too much, lost too much.

But not her. Not this time.

Tomorrow, he’d make sure she was safe… even if she didn’t know it.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

well… somebody needs therapy (me and him both)

I have no tag list for this (I’m old and will probably fail starting one) but if you comment on here I’ll remind you if there’s a new chapter!!

Deal?

xoxo

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lieutnt · 11 months ago

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a commission for @chxrrylime

beta/alpha!male reader x omega!john price x omega!simon "ghost" riley summary: price and ghost help you with your first rut after your sudden change from a beta to an alpha. warnings: nsfw, minors dni. omegaverse, brief illness, threesome, knotting, creampies. sorry for the delay on this! had it like 80% written by saturday and then i had a time the next few days. i got carried away with the word count so oops.

Price was normally resistant to others being assigned to his task force, but when your file found its way on his desk curiosity got the better of him. Not just because you were a Beta, although that did help his willingness to accept you, but because you filled a hole in the team. Your skills and training had rounded out the task force, being a Beta was an added bonus.

There was still lingering doubt in Price’s mind, but weeks after you had joined and Gaz went into heat you offered to help. You had been the perfect carer - staying with him the entire time and making sure he was fed, hydrated and happy. Afterwards Gaz had privately gushed about you to the rest of the 141, unable to think of a time when his heat had gone so smoothly. You had repeated the process with Soap and Price, both getting to experience your gentle touch first hand, and even Ghost had let you help him.

After months of working with the team Price had begun to notice some changes in your behaviour. You were more on edge when the 141 worked with other soldiers, hesitating to leave them alone if an Alpha was in the room. He picked up on you offering the others food from your own plate if they complained they were still hungry, despite the fact that you’d barely even finished half of yours. You even began developing a stronger scent, something different from when you had first joined.

Worry filled his mind when one day Gaz & Soap had barged into his office, panicking about how they couldn’t wake you. Once Price had joined them in running to your room he was immediately calling for a medic, your body covered in a sheen of sweat, barely responsive to their attempts at rousing you. They each took their turns pacing outside your room once you had been taken to a hospital, the doctor’s unsure what was happening to you. You had stayed like that for days, a fever wracking your body and unconscious as change forced its way through your veins.

Price had been elated when he received the phone call that you were awake, but once the 141 had gathered at the hospital they were ushered into a separate room before they could see you. A doctor was already waiting for them, a look of concern on her face.

An Alpha. They couldn’t wrap their head around it, you had changed into an Alpha. The doctor had tried to explain how in very rare cases something like this can happen but they were too shocked to absorb anything she was explaining. Soap & Gaz appeared unbothered, more concerned with wanting to see you but one look between Price and Ghost and they knew they were thinking similarly.

Filing into your room they were hit with a wave of pheromones you didn’t know you were releasing, a deep down part of them stirring when your scent immediately turned relaxed at seeing them, Soap and Gaz not hesitating to give you hugs as Ghost lingered on the outside of the group while Price simply placed a hand on your shoulder, “It’s good to see you lad,” he said, attempting to bury the worry threading through his mind.

The doctors advised you be taken back to your home base so that’s what they did, alongside the thought that they’d have to explain certain things to you. You weren’t dumb - you knew how Alphas worked, but knowing and doing were two very different things. You had to rely on someone else telling you when you were stinking up the room with Alpha smell, or when you easily slipped back into your old routine except this time it appeared more like courting than caring, and Price and Ghost, as the most experienced, could see how your new heightened senses were weighing on you, struggling in the presence of four omegas.

—

Waking up you were confused at your state, your senses acting as if they had a personal vendetta against you, and you were even more confused when Gaz had taken one look at you and escorted you back to your room as if you were a scared animal, telling you to sit while he fetched Price. 15 minutes later Price and Ghost stepped through your door, shutting it behind them as Price sat next to you. “Do you know what’s happening lad?”

You didn’t know, brain struggling to conjure up any ideas without being distracted by the smell of omega. Swallowing heavily, you shook your head, “No sir.”

Ghost spoke up, “Think you’re going into rut.” He remained leaning against the wall, gaze locked on you.

Brows furrowing you used what brain power you had left to think it over. It matched with the experiences you had heard from other Alphas, but- “I don’t have anything prepared,” you mumbled, brain ticking with what would follow the next few days.

Price had a faint smile on his face, hand resting on your shoulder for reassurance. “We know, which is why, if you want, we think it’s our turn to help you.”

The air sharpened with arousal and you heard Ghost’s faint scoff of laughter, “Think he likes that idea, boss.”

Price’s hand slid from your shoulder to around the back of your neck, forcing you to turn your head and face him. “Only if you want,” he reiterated, thumb gently stroking the back of your neck.

Blood was already pooling south, your cock twitching in its confines at the idea of having them both underneath you. You didn’t realise you had been thinking about it for so long until Price briefly tightened his grip, bringing you back to the present. Nodding your head eagerly, your eyes flicked between Price and Ghost, “Please.”

—

Sinking into Ghost’s hole felt nothing short of heavenly, the warmth of his walls pulsing to ease your way in and steadily melting your brain, your mouth dropping open to release an airy moan once you were buried as deep as you could go. Just enough awareness was flickering behind your eyes to start slow, gently rocking your hips while Ghost adjusted to the stretch of your cock.

Price was by your side, cautiously watching your movements to make sure you didn’t go too rough before Ghost was ready. As soon as your hips punched forwards unexpectedly Price was slanting his mouth against yours, distracting you from your impatience as Ghost grunted from the force. The smell of not one but two aroused omegas had your alpha preening, deepening the kiss with Price and lowly growling as your hand encased the back of his head to hold him close, only parting when Ghost began to roll his hips back and forth.

Your hands fell to Ghost’s hips, guiding his movements as each of your thrusts grew faster and harder until skin was slapping against skin, vision tunnelling as your pupils dilated, only focused on the omega around your cock and the breed, mate, instinct that was swirling in your mind.

Pushing Ghost down you surged over him, covering his body with yours as your teeth skated across his back, barely resisting the temptation to bite and mark him, to let the world know who he belonged to, whose bed he was warming. Price was by your side again, kissing at your neck and shushing your half-growls, attempting to soothe the possessive claim. His hands ran across your body, one stroking through your hair while the other never stopped moving, letting you know he was there.

Your pace never faltered, even as Ghost began warning you he was close, cock bobbing against his stomach at your thrusts while his moans grew faster and faster until his body seized, muscles trembling as he painted the bed under him with his release. Once out of the floating of his climax Ghost could feel the beginnings of your knot catching on his rim, the bulb steadily growing with each of your frantic thrusts as his knees buckled, sending him flat against the bed as the tension thrumming through your body finally snapped, knot punching its way past his rim and locking you together.

It was like a dam had burst, his insides flooded with your cum as your hips stuttered, a chest rattling growl crawling its way out of your throat. Despite the fact that you couldn’t thrust you instead grinded against Ghost, cock twitching with each pulse of cum that his fluttering walls milked from you. After a lifetime of minutely jerking your hips you finally slumped against Ghost, growls replaced with heavy breaths and a rumbling purr as you rolled to your side, bringing Ghost with you and hugging him to your chest. Burrowing your nose into the back of his neck your alpha was temporarily satiated at your scent mixing with Ghost’s.

Faintly, you heard Price speak up. “You ok Simon?”

Ghost was breathing as heavily as you, voice hoarse and dry, “Mhm, just-” he gasped almost silently as your hips twitched, knot tugging against his rim, “full,” he huffed, bearing his teeth as you began to grow restless.

Price’s attention quickly switched to you, hand wiping the sweat-coated hair off your forehead, “What’s the matter lad?” After attempting and failing to pull out of Ghost your hand hurried downwards, finger prodding at his tightened rim until it could push inside and separate you enough to pull your knot out. As much as you wanted to lean down and tongue your cum back into his hole your brain had other ideas, body surging up to Price and licking into his mouth while you pushed him onto his back, pupils blown wide.

Price watched curiously as you nipped down his throat and chest, “Gotta breed you,” you slurred, eyes half-lidded and cock hard and ready between your legs. He released a steadying breath, hole twitching at your eagerness.

His head rolled back on his shoulders as two of your fingers poked at his entrance, easily sliding in with the preparation you had done earlier and the mixture of his own slick. Before you could get too lost and overstimulate him and yourself Price pulled you back up to his lips with a hand in your hair, ignoring the noise of discontent you made and kissing you again, reaching down to align your tip with his hole. If it was another time and place he would’ve laughed at how easily you crumbled, but as your cock slipped inside him he groaned against your mouth, letting his body rock with your thrusts.

—

When Price and Ghost first emerged from your room once your rut was over Soap and Gaz tried their best to look unfazed, pointedly ignoring the way they were both stretching out sore muscles. “He ok?” Gaz asked, eyes attempting to search for you and noticing your absence.

Price nodded, “Just showering.”

Always the bolder of the two Soap couldn’t help but question, “How was it?” At Gaz’s pointed look he shrugged, “As if ye weren’t wonderin’.”

Price huffed amusingly, fingers scratching through his sideburns, “Think we’ll have our hands full with him.”

#john price #john price x male reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #john price x simon ghost riley x male reader #top male reader #male reader #top reader #omegaverse #call of duty #lieutnts writing #lieutnts commissions

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sungvrhs · 5 months ago

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Never Stopping Now - Lee Heeseung

"We're just getting started, my love." Warnings: EXPLICIT! Female!reader x Male!Heeseung! Overstimulation and handcuffs WORD COUNT: 1.3K

note: Posting for the Diary 2024: #15240822 with my twin @diorsyun! Reblogs and comments would be appreciated. English ain't my native language so please ignore any grammartical errors.

───────────────⋆⋅MDNI⋅⋆───────────────

"H-Hee it's t-too much-" a choked moan escaped your lips whilst the man slowed down his thrusts, the head board colliding with the wall while the cuffs clinked against it. Lying in your stomach, your rapid breathing paced up as the pillow absorbed your tears, low grunts escaping his lips. "Shh baby, just a little more. I know you can take it." His palm took place beside your neck, his figure resting against yours as his sloppy thrusts continued, his free leg taking firm support on the floor while the other took support of his knee. The slow makeout session that started on the edge of the bed ended in a never ending intercourse, you couldn’t possibly keep track of how long it had been since he got his hands on you. He was impatient earlier that day, and his clingy nature seemed like a natural routine to you, just like every other day. But him having other plans to end the day was something not on schedule. A man full of surprises, and a woman who would accept his surprises, you both were made for each other. Except for the fact that he would always yearn for more than just kisses. Every now and then it was him dragging you to somewhere, in any given moment and would take his sweet time with you. But today was something different. “Love, come here.” He spoke, tapping on his lap slightly whilst you looked away from the mirror, putting down the cleanser as you wiped off makeup off your face. “You’re up to something, aren’t you?” You raised an eyebrow, suspicious of the tone of voice he had as he nodded sideways, disagreeing with your thoughts. “It’s nothing! Trust me!” He exclaimed, amazed at how you weren’t buying his excuse. “Better spill the beans before I take my leave.” Not hearing a response from you turned on your heels, knowing that he would let it out in a few moments from now, as you mentally counted backwards from 5. “Wait wait!” He sprinted forth to hold your wrist, causing you to tilt your head as he bit his lips, a mischievous gaze reflecting in his orbs causing you to slap his arm slightly as to which he whined. “What? Is it not common for a man to have desires for his wife?” He sulked, causing you to roll your eyes as you spoke, “It is, but not that often! We just shared a moment about a few hours ago and-” “Few hours already? God, it explains well whyI’m craving for you.” Pulling you closer as he pushed you on the bed, not waiting for your response. “Heeseung, wait!” Your hands took hold of his that were resting on your waistband, halting his movements, moving your eyes up to meet his hazy ones. Wrong move!

And here you were, hands cuffed to the bed as he dipped his face deeper in your core, lips meeting yours as he rose you to your climax, broken moans escaping your lips as your back arched, letting your arousal coat his lips as he didn’t waste a single drop of it. Lifting his head up, he was met with his heavenly sight; drenched in sweat, arms hanging up through the cuffs against the headboard, your immobilized breathing after chasing your high. The soft echoes of your breathing synchronized with his, hands resting on the ends of the bed as he threw his head back, savoring the taste that lingered on his taste buds as rose up from the ground, resting his knee on the bed as the sinking of the mattress caused your eyes to flutter open, only to be met with the sight of the love of your life crawling on top of you. Your heartbeats rose, not knowing what was going on in his mind or what he was planning to do next. To say that you weren’t enjoying this would be an understatement, because being the shy one in the relationship to let your intrusive thoughts win, heeseung would always find a way to mingle through your thoughts and find the right thing to do at the right moment. Telepathy would be a nice way to label it and your excitement would always have a wonderful conclusion since he would always do his best to make you see the stars.

Dropping his head down to connect his lips with yours, you could taste yourself from his lips, the feverish kiss growing intense as you felt the urge to drape your arms around his neck to draw him closer. He was quick enough to notice it, but didn’t exactly oblige to your wish. He instead draws himself closer, letting his body rest against yours whilst his right hand rested on the side of your neck, lifting your jaw up to deepen the kiss. A low moan escaped your lips as he grinned, his shaft growing uncomfortable against your fragile body. It was a shame that he would get turned on super easily just by your mere existence but you would never make him feel pathetic about it. Sure you were blunt in your words but that was your way of expressing the complete opposite of what you yearned for. His bulge felt tighter against your core, causing both of you to moan against each other as to which he broke the kiss, resting on his knees as his wrists caught hold of your feet, your eyes widening as he flipped you over, a groan escaping your lips as your arms twisted slightly.

“Hee, calm down, I need a breather- Oh fuck.” You didn't get time to adjust as he pushed his shaft through your core, hands raising your hips to get a better angle as his thrusts picked up pace. “Oh baby, you have no idea how hot headed I am right now.” A grunt escaped his lips as he felt you getting tight. “F-Fuck babe, why are you clenching so much.” He threw his head back, face scrunching at the painful pleasure whilst your hands remained crossed, your shoulders aching, but the pain was inevitable compared to the pleasure you were seeking through in the midst. “H-Hee, please.” You begged, tired from the earlier climax but he had no intentions of stopping by anytime soon. “Oh don’t beg me to stop…” He slowed down, lowering his head against the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Beg me for more, cause I’m not stopping anytime soon.” “B-But- Ahh.” He paced up again, successfully reaching your desired spot that caused your eyes to roll behind your head, back arching, hips high up in the air as his hand pushed down your face deeper in the pillows. His other hand took a firm yet soft grip around your neck, his thumb rubbing against it while he whispered, "Just a little more, yeah?" His lips trailing wet kisses against your cheeks that traced to the back of your neck, kissing and licking the familiar heart birthmark that has always been his weakness. Teeth nibbling onto its traces, you gasp, eyes rolling back at how his thrusts paced up, his shaft shifting uncomfortably inside you while you felt his climax nearing. You could feel it and we're just embracing the painfully slow ticking time till you felt his lips chanting your name, head dropping back as he released his load inside you. The warm feeling embraced your body as the both of you panted, taking your sweet time to catch your breaths. His thrusts slowed down, to the point of not moving any longer as you looked behind your shoulder, feeling him pulling out slowly. "Hee wait- Oh!" Another moan escaped your lips while you felt him pushing back in again after a while. "Y-You thought we would be done? Not yet my love. We have just begun and the night is young." Flipping your body so that you were laying on your back again, his thrusts wilding while your eyes glistened, too lost to beg him to stop. Note#2: Took me long to tune in back here, I owe ya all an apology. But I hope this serves <3

#heeseung #enhypenimagines #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #heeseung imagines #heeseung smut #lee heeseung #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut #heeseung x reader

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rottenfyre · 9 days ago

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⸻ ʟ ɪ ᴛ ᴛ ʟ ᴇ ʟ ᴀ ᴍ ʙ ⸻

Pairing: Dark Male Daella Targaryen x Fem Reader

Summary: Daelon had always been shy and timid, a shadow to his older sister, Y/N. His adoration for her only grew as he aged, becoming an obsession he could not shake. She should have found it pitiful, frustrating even—but instead, she discovered a twisted pleasure in the power she held over him.

Warning: Age gap, Targcest, Grey Reader, Genderbend characters.

Notes: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

The Red Keep was unnervingly quiet that evening, save for the faint clinking of goblets in the Great Hall and the occasional flutter of wings from the rookery. Y/N strolled through the dimly lit corridors. She had just finished her evening routine, her gown flowing like shadows behind her as she ascended the staircase leading to her chambers.

Daelon was waiting, of course.

He always waited.

The younger prince sat outside her door, knees tucked under his chin, his silver hair a disheveled mess from where he’d anxiously run his hands through it. Upon seeing her approach, he scrambled to his feet, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. He looked like a chastened child caught stealing sweets, which only made the corner of her lips twitch with a faint smirk.

“Y/N,” he whispered, voice trembling as if saying her name too loudly might summon something terrible. His violet eyes were glassy, his hands clutching at each other nervously.

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she tilted her head, letting her gaze rake over him in silence. He was smaller than most men his age, delicate like spun glass, as though he might shatter if she so much as raised her voice. It was fascinating how pathetic he looked, and even more fascinating how it made her pulse quicken just a little.

“What are you doing here, Daelon?” she asked, her voice steady and calm.

“I-I…” He trailed off, shifting on his feet like a boy caught in a storm. “I just wanted to see you. I—” He hesitated, and then, in a rush, blurted out, “I thought you might be lonely. Or cold. Or maybe… maybe you needed someone.”

Y/N crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “And you think you’re the someone I’d need?”

The poor boy visibly flinched, his cheeks flushing a deep red. He was already on the verge of tears, his lips trembling as he tried to stammer out a response. “I—I just thought… I only—” His voice cracked, and before she could stop herself, she laughed.

It wasn’t a mocking laugh, though he’d probably interpret it that way. No, it was genuine amusement at just how utterly pitiful he was. He was nineteen years old, a prince, and yet he looked like a lost puppy begging for scraps of her attention.

“Come inside,” she said, finally putting him out of his misery.

He practically tripped over himself in his haste to obey, his relief evident as he followed her into the room. Her chambers were dark and warm, the scent of burning candles and lavender filling the air. She gestured for him to sit, and he did so on the edge of her bed, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

Y/N watched him for a moment, taking in every nervous movement, every shy glance he cast her way. He looked so breakable, so utterly weak. And yet, it thrilled her in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

“You’re trembling,” she said, stepping closer.

“I’m not,” he lied, though his shaking hands betrayed him.

She reached out, her fingers brushing his jaw as she tilted his face up to meet her gaze. He froze under her touch, his breath hitching audibly. His skin was warm, his lips parted slightly as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“You’re always like this,” she murmured, her thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone. “So soft. So scared. Do you ever stop crying, little brother?”

“I—I don’t cry all the time,” he protested weakly, though the tears gathering in his eyes told a different story.

Y/N smirked, her hand slipping to his chin, holding him in place. “You’re lying to me, Daelon. You’re terrible at it.”

He whimpered, a soft, pitiful sound that sent a thrill down her spine. He looked so helpless, so desperate for her approval. And the way he leaned into her touch, like a moth drawn to a flame, made her heart race with something dark and heady.

“Do you like this?” she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Daelon’s eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red. “I—I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

He swallowed hard, his breathing ragged as he nodded, ever so slightly.

“Good boy,” she murmured, and he shuddered under her praise, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

Her grip on his chin tightened just enough to make him whimper again, and she leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “You’re mine, Daelon. Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he breathed, his voice trembling. “Always.”

Y/N pulled back, studying his tear-streaked face with a mix of amusement and fascination. He was pathetic, yes, but he was her pathetic little brother. And there was something intoxicating about the way he looked at her, like she was his entire world.

“Good,” she said, releasing him. “Now, stop crying. You’re going to ruin your pretty face.”

Daelon sniffled, wiping at his tears with the sleeve of his tunic. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Don’t apologize, Daelon. I like you just the way you are.”

His breath hitched again, and she couldn’t help but smile. Yes, he was pathetic, but he was hers. And that was all that mattered.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

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sleepinghypnos · 1 year ago

Text

ITZY Ryujin ft. Yeji x Male OC

Tags: Smut

Genre: Blowjob, Rough Sex, Self-degradation, Female Idol x Male Reader (OC), Cheating (Extreme... i guess.)

PS: Sorry for inconsistent story format, I'm still learning so be patient with me... and it's cheating again, if you are not into that then feel free to ignore this.

The encounter with the IVE members surely is a divine one, having them as 'yours' isn't bad. It's been three days since that happened and you are back at the ITZY's private home.

As per usual, Yuna and Chaeryeong always wants to do something with you. Making moves here and there non-stop and it basically became a routine. In the shower, dining room, living room, and even in the garden when the guards is out for lunch.

The other members don't care because they got used to it, so it's going to be a surprise if they don't see you plowing the fuck out of them.

You woke up and do all your morning ritual before you come out of your room, these past few days their lives has been peaceful. No stalking, no creepy encounters..

But you are still on your guard despite that because who knows what will happen tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.

"Oppa?" You went back to reality when you heard someone talked. Then you gaze downwards to see a beautiful woman kneeling before you. It's Ryujin, the main rapper of ITZY, due to the constant persuasion of Yuna and Chaeryeong, she eventually let her desire get the best of her and do what she wants and this is it.

"Yes?"

"Are you feeling good?" she asked and you nodded, cupping her cheeks as assurance.

She shows her beautiful smile and continued to give your cock some passionate attention, gazing up with sultry eyes as she begins planting soft kisses along your length. Her full lips pout seductively with each press against your sensitive skin.

"It my deepest wish to worship this perfect cock properly..." she breathes out between sensual kisses, taking her time to build anticipation. Her mouth eventually reaches the tip, which she swirls her tongue around teasingly before placing a loving kiss right on the head. She maintains smoldering eye contact throughout.

"I hope my mouth can provide you the warm-up you deserve..." With that, Ryujin's lips part and she takes you inside, moaning at your taste and thickness on her tongue.

She begin bobbing slowly but deeply, caressing the shaft of your huge cock with both of her hands simultaneously.

As the pace increases, Ryujin's muffled moans vibrate around you. She is utterly lost in her oral worship. focused solely on giving you intense pleasure. Her skilled tongue on which she practiced on a dildo proves her dedication on pleasuring you, desiring nothing more than your complete satisfaction from her dedicated efforts.

"Shit, I'm cumming."

As you begin fucking Ryujin's throat intensely, she relaxes her jaw and trying hard to suppress her gag reflex to accommodate your dominant rhythm. Spit drips down her chin as vulgar wet choking sounds escape her stuffed mouth. She's still making an eye contact with you totally want to satisfy your lust.

This pushes you over the edge. With a final brutal thrust down Ryujin's tight throat, you flood her mouth with a massive cumshot. Her eyes roll back in ecstasy as she eagerly gulps down every drop of your virile seed.

When you finally withdraw, Ryujin gasps for air, mouth still open to show you she didn't waste any cum.

"Mmm... thank you for feeding me, Oppa." She purrs, then she turn her gaze behind me.

"So, you finally did it. Congrats!" The woman behind you finally speaks, apparently she's been there the whole time and Ryujin just didn't even bother to say anything since she is focused on pleasuring you.

"Please you use me next, sir..." Yeji begs, Ryujin on the other hand smile upon the idea of another member of ITZY being conquered and that makes all of them your sluts...

Based on Yeji's behavior, she's on par with Yuna if being a slut is a character trait so going gentle on her is a waste. She knelt down on her own without getting told and patiently waits your response.

Yeji parting her lips to welcome your massive length. You didn't waste any time and slides it inside. She moans loudly around your cock, struggling to fit it to her mouth. You feel her tongue sliding along your shaft as she tries to pleasure you.

She gazes up at you pleadingly, eager to be stuffed and fucked as she craves, her cunt drips with arousal, clenching around nothing. She needs your cock to fill her, to ruin her completely.

You plunge into her mouth, feeling her throat stretch around your size. She gags but does not protest, willing to please you however she can.

Her eyes glaze with lust and desire as she bobs her head, wanting to taste your cum.

"Your cock brings me the greatest pleasure, the dildos can't even compare." Yeji pants. "Only you can destroy my mouth as I crave... please, fuck me harder. Ruin me."

You pound into her mouth mercilessly, feeling her lips smack and slide along your length. She moans, the sounds muffled but full of delight.

You look at Ryujin playing with herself, feeling the lust as she watch you ruin Yeji's mouth just like how you did with hers. "Fuck us! Please.. Fuck us!" Words that came out of her mouth.

You are closing to your peak, and finally flood Yeji's mouth with your hot thick cum, she shows off her mouthfull of jizz to you and Ryujin before swallowing it all down.

"Delicious!"

The two idols leads you to your own bedroom tossed themselves to your bed waiting for you to come closer, quickly undressing and lay down as if they are presenting their pussies to you.

Foreplay wasn't needed, the facefucking is enough to wet their cunts like waterfalls. You position yourself with your massive length lining up to Ryujin's wet entrance.

With a single thrust, you bury yourself inside her tight cunt. She screams, overwhelmed by the sensation of pleasure and pain.

"Oh god! y-yes!" She moans. "Fill me. Oppa!"

You pound into Ryujin intensely, feeling her tight walls clench around your cock, she moans and curses, writhing beneath you in delight.

"Harder, Oppa!" She demanded. "I need your enormous cock ruining me."

You oblige, plowing into Ryujin with brutal force. She screams and moans, overwhelmed by the intensity of your thrust, you know she has a boyfriend but this is what she wants, you are just giving it to her.

"Your boyfriend doesn't have any idea that you are here getting plowed by such massive cock but that's fine, right? Since he's been getting along with other women as well, the difference is you are enjoying a much bigger dick compare to his." Yeji said and kissed Ryujin's neck while caressing her hair.

"My wish to try full nelson with my boyfriend is not possible since he is not well-endowed. I want to try it so bad, please help realize my dream." She added, it seems like she found someone and didn't get what she wanted. You just nodded to her and focus your attention on Ryujin.

You pinch and tease Ryujin's nipples, eliciting more moans from the writhing idol beneath you. her breast bounce with the force of your pounding, eager to be marked with your scent.

You switch from her pussy to her ass taking her ass virginity in the process. But she didn't resist, instead she likes the idea. Being used as a fuckdoll isn't so bad in her mind, as long as it's you who will be using her.

Her ass clenches around your cock, begging for the pleasure of your cum. She gazes up at you pleading to be filled.

As you felt your climax closing in you position Ryujin into a mating press, insert your cock into her cunt and plowed her fast and hard making her scream your name.

"Suho Oppa!" She said, her saying your name instead of Oppa made your raging fire to go wild even more. She's taking your huge cock in full length.

Many more thrusts and Ryujin screams in mingled pleasure and humiliation as you fill her cunt with your thick, hot, virile seed. It spurts into her in enormous ropes, filling her up and making her belly bulge as you wreck her completely.

Yeji in particular grins with cruel delight, pleased to see Ryujin so thoroughly used and degraded.

You withdraw from Ryujin's stuffed cunt, your massive cock dripping with cum and slick with her juices. She present herself for inspection, eager to atone for actually giving in to her desire in betraying her boyfriend and please you however she must.

"Oppa's cum fills me as it rightly should." Ryujin's says meekly. "I am but a vessel for your pleasure and release now."

Yeji nod in approval, pleased to see Ryujin so utterly claimed and humiliated.

"She will make a fine breeding cat to produce kittens for you." Yeji says meaningfully.

The bed in your bedroom is quite big, so even if you are fucking three people on the bed you can still do many positions.

Yeji positioned herself in all fours waiting for you to plow her. Without a second thought you penetrate the idol in front of you, she moans as she feels your cock stretching her out, her walls immediately clenched around your cock.

You pulled her hair while fucking from behind, your desire to plow her is nothing lesser than what you felt with Ryujin. Letting them have it the way they wanted it.

Then you pull out, she was surprised and asking for more but you have a different plan. If she wants to get fuck in a full nelson then you'll give it to her.

You positioned Yeji into full nelson locking your hand behind her neck and thrusting upwards making the idols dream come true.

Yeji moans loudly, her hips bucking wildly as she's pounded into oblivion. She can feel your thick cock stretching her pussy to it's limit with your girth and length, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

"Ooh! Sh-shit! This is it! FUCK!!! FUCK ME HARDER, USE ME!" She screams as if she's the only one in the room. "I'm yours to pound to oblivion. My pussy aches to be filled by your girthy cock, please take your pleasure from me. I want to be your little cumdump, filled and used for your pleasure alone."

She grinds her hips against you, eager to feel your cock thrusting deeper into her. She knows you won't stop until you pounded her into a quivering, cock hungry mess, and she craves every second of it.

She cries out in ecstasy as you plow into her, her body shaking with the force of your thrusts. Few deep thrusts and she received her first creampie from you. Her eyes widen, looking down at her swollen belly in shock as the cum continues to pump into her. She can feel it filling her womb. Your thick essence flooding her body.

"Yes! Fill me! Pump your hot cum into my womb!"

You slide her to you side and lift her ass up. "I'm not done with you."

But as soon so she's already to take her second round, her phone rings. Ryujin picks the phone up and gave it to Yeji.

"Oppa?"

"Where are you?"

"At our dorm? We don't have any schedule today..." She's talking to her boyfriend then Ryujin came up with a brilliant idea.

In a whisper... "Do a video call with him, and let Oppa fuck you. Just make sure only your face is visible through the camera." with an evil grin. She's totally getting revenge because of what Yeji did earlier. She knows that Yeji won't resist if you desires it.

"Oppa, do a video call with me." She said and waited for the call. She's nervous but also getting more hornier, this is her first time doing such a thing.

When her boyfriend video calls. I penetrated her immediately. Yeji bites her lip and answers, angling it so he can't see you fucking her.

"H-hi baby! What's up?" Yeji asks, voice trembling as you continue plowing into her pussy from behind.

Her boyfriend is oblivious, chatting casually. Meanwhile, You rail Yeji harder, watching her struggle to keep composure during the call.

"Is everything okay babe? You seemed weird." her boyfriend asks with concern.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine!" Yeji lies, moaning as you spear deep into her soaked cunt from behind.

You reach around and grope her tits through her top, pinching her nipples as you fuck her on camera. Yeji bites back whimpers of pleasure.

"Are you sure? You look a little flushed..." her boyfriend says suspiciously.

You slap Yeji's ass hard, eliciting a yelp. "I-I'm just tired from practice!" she covers. She stifle her moans with her hand as you rail her harder, claiming her body as yours in secret right before her boyfriend's eyes...

As you railing her doggystyle during the call with her oblivious boyfriend, Yeji suddenly makes an exaggerated ahegao face right at the camera.

Her eyes roll back, tongue lolling out as she moans like an anime girl. She's getting off on betraying her boyfriend.

"What was that face for?" He asks confused.

"N-nothing babe! Ryujin's massaging my legs since it's sore and she hit the RIGHT spot..." Yeji lies, stifling her moans as you spear deep into her cervix from behind.

She keeps making lewd faces, clearly getting aroused from cucking her boyfriend without him realizing. Her pussy is soaking wet and clenching around your pistoning cock.

Yeji is getting addicted to the thrill of cheating. And Ryujin is liking every second of this amusement.

She even mouthed... "Crazy bitch!"

Her boyfriend keeps asking what's going on as Yeji makes more odd faces and stifled noises while you rail her.

"What do you keep making those faces for babe?" He asks confused.

"Oh uh, my stomach! It's in my stomach..." Yeji lies unconvincingly as you spear deep into her womb from behind.

"Huh? What's in your stomach?" He asks, not catching her meaning.

"Nothing baby! You wouldn't get it anyway..." Yeji says with a hint of mockery, biting back a moan as your swollen balls slap against her engorged clit.

Her boyfriend is completely unaware as you thoroughly claim his girlfriend's pussy right before his eyes. Yeji is getting off on cucking him so blatantly.

Soon your cum will be pumping into the stomach she mentioned instead of his..

While you rail Yeji doggystyle during her video call, Ryujin is watching from the sidelines and giggling to herself.

She can clearly see you spearing Yeji's tight pussy while her oblivious boyfriend has no idea. Ryujin finds Yeji's poor attempts at lying utterly amusing.

"Oppa's huge cock is stuffing you so good! Your boyfriend is so clueless!" Ryujin whispers teasingly.

Yeji glares at her but can't hold back a loud moan as you start jackhammering into her g-spot without mercy.

"What was that? Is someone else there?" Her boyfriend asks, hearing the noises. Looks like Yeji is also his first girlfriend because he remains oblivious...

"No babe! Just the TV!" Yeji lies desperately.

You are railing Yeji relentlessly, her pussy squeezing your cock as you hit deep in her womb. With a few final powerful thrusts, you erupt, pumping thick ropes of cum directly into her womb.

Yeji's eyes roll back feeling you coat her insides. Her tummy begins bulging, filled up with your potent seed.

Right as you finish cumming inside her, Yeji makes an exaggerated ahegao face and moans loudly, putting on a final show for her boyfriend.

"G-gotta go babe, talk later! I think my legs needs some ice packs." Yeji excuses herself before ending the call. your cum still oozing from her used hole.

Ryujin laughs seeing Yeji's bulging creampied pussy after deceiving her boyfriend so blatantly.

"You bitch! You're sluttier than Yuna and Chaeryeong!" Ryujin added before pulling you to lay down on the bed.

"It's your fault! Who said you can come out with an idea like that?" Yeji's face is buried on the mattress while arguing with Ryujin.

"Just make sure he won't figure it out, your career might face some consequences." You reminded her while rubbing her back. She just nodded and continued resting.

Here it is.... Another piece. Thank you for reading!

#kpop smut #itzy smut #kpop fic #kpop #smut #Ryujin smut #Yeji smut #itzy

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chilling-seavey · 3 months ago

Text

In The Middle (gr63 + pg10)

↳ A/N What came over me when I wrote this?? Nothing but a dire need to want content of my two favourite men in my favourite decade tbh. Entirely self serving but I hope you enjoy ;) Would love to hear your thoughts

↳ Summary: The summer of 1985 had your time filled with two handsome men who, with each, you had a non-exclusive friends-with-benefits relationship. They were completely unaware of the other’s existence in your life but that’s what added to the thrill. Once you faced a few close calls where they almost discovered your cheeky little secret, you decided to lay all your cards on the table and see if you could have the best of both worlds on the same night

↳ Pairings: Friends with Benefits!George x Fem!Reader, Friends with Benefits!Pierrex Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 31.5k

↳ Warnings: 18+, NSFW, drinking and intoxication, smoking, MMF threesome, double penetration, anal, protected sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), face fucking, male masturbation, fingering, finger sucking, spanking, spitting, face slapping, hair pulling, degradation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dumbification, nipple play, restraining, choking, edging, praise, dirty talk, overstimulation, taking pictures, subdrop.

London, 1985

“Fuck.” Pierre’s low breathless chuckle against your cheek fell warm across your flushed skin.

Nestled in the crook of his arm amidst his tangled bed sheets, you reached a hand up to brush through the side of his frazzled hair and you pulled his lips onto yours for an off-centered kiss. With his arm around you, he gently rested his thumb against your jaw to guide you in again for more, easily parting your lips with his own to mould into sloppy tongue-led kisses. The sounds of your laboured breaths filled his warm bedroom, wrapped up together to linger on the last few seconds of your euphoria.

“Holy shit.” you smiled out of his filthy kiss, turning your head to the ceiling straight above you and letting your hand rest on his chest, right over his rapidly beating heart.

“Uh huh.” Pierre smirked, reaching his free hand up to rake his fingers through his hair.

He was naked at your side and his sweaty skin was pressed right up against yours, limbs entangled in whatever twisted position you had both fallen into once you finished your usual routine of lust without love. It was textbook by then and after a few seconds to catch your breath, you were shifting under his arms and his bedsheets and sitting up.

He easily let you get up and you traipsed across his bedroom floor to find your clothes that were scattered on various surfaces. You started to dress in the familiarity of Pierre’s poster lined bedroom, snatching your bra off his silver stereo that was sitting atop his dark wood dresser and finding your underwear on his window ledge. From his bed, Pierre watched you dress with his arms tucked behind his head and his sheets only barely covering his lap, his bottom lip captured by his teeth. His eyes followed you as you walked back and forth to find your clothes one article at a time and it brought a small smile to your face.

“Take a picture,” you jabbed teasingly as you buttoned your jeans, “it’ll last longer.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Pierre cocked his head in the direction of the small table beside his bed that held a Nikon camera at the ready.

“Need I remind you of the various Polaroid pictures I have already given you?” you countered smoothly behind the fabric of your blouse as you pulled it over your head.

“Yeah, yeah.” Pierre tisked, “You’re like my own little centerfold.”

“Only yours,” you smiled back at him as you knelt up on the end of his bed and then crawled towards him. Then, as he held his hands out to you to guide you onto his lap, you added cheekily, “for today.”

Pierre’s mouth fell slack into a shocked and yet entirely amused gape and yet his blue eyes shone in the late night light of the city streaking in through his window, only breaking into a smile at the soft giggle that fell from your lips. His hands squeezed your hips before warning you lightly, his rich French accent stirring warmth in your stomach, “I don’t think after the way I had you screaming my name not even two minutes ago you have any right to claim that you’re not all mine, cherie.”

You just smiled down at him from your rightful spot on his lap and you pulled his face in for a few messy open mouthed kisses. After a few seconds, you pulled away from his lips and gave his cheek a little smack, “I gotta go.”

“Okay,” Pierre gave your bum another slap as you climbed off his bed, “Get the fuck outta here.”

You draped your purse over your shoulder and gave him another passing smile, “I’ll call you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

And then you let yourself out of his flat and out onto the night stained streets of London.

It was a routine you knew well since running into Pierre that one spring afternoon in the downtown shops. He was a stranger then but one who matched your banter easily and had impeccable fashion sense and you found yourselves navigating the aisles and skimming through the racks together. He spoke about his job and how he moved to London from France for a job in the motorsports industry - sending words your way that you didn’t quite understand like ‘aerodynamics’ and ‘transmission’ - and he was trying to network with any of the local Formula 1 teams. It was all quite impressive, but maybe he had been laying it on a little thick. When he had finally invited you back to his flat for drinks, you had silently anticipated how the night was going to end.

From that night on, it seemed that your every interaction ended with the two of you in a mess of sheets and sweaty limbs, either in his bed or yours (and the odd time in the back of his car). It all just seemed to work. He made it clear right off the bat that he was by no means looking for a relationship to which you easily agreed; no-strings-attached, no emotions, and completely non-exclusive. The two of you promised to keep your sexual encounters as nothing more than the fulfilling of a natural humanistic desire. And, God, was he good at it.

You swore no other man could make you come as hard and as many times as Pierre could.

Well, maybe no other man except for George.

George was your prized possession you kept in your back pocket, a sworn secret, and you counted your lucky stars that somehow you had run into each other because almost every girl in England - and maybe even all over Europe - would have killed to be in your position.

The world knew him as one-half of the infamous Williams Formula 1 team, while the tabloids - and you - knew him as someone completely separate from the sweet smiled persona that he portrayed in interviews. Headlines were often plastered with various rumours of what George got up to behind the scenes; what girl did he have under his arm tonight? Surprisingly, none of the tabloids got their claws into the existence of you yet.

You couldn’t even remember how you met George although you were sure it was that club in the depths of London that he always liked to pop by when he could. It was some heat-of-the-moment drunken night that ended up with you taking him back to your apartment until the early hours of the morning, the entire thing a bit of a haze. Neither of you ever really spoke to it either but somehow, when the time was right and he was between race weekends, you’d end up hooking up every chance you could. Oftentimes it was at your apartment (due to him still living with his parents when back in England, regardless of his high standing in the motorsports world) or - in rare cases - the bathroom of whatever club you were attending. You were sure he had other girls in other locations every time he would end up racing somewhere around the world but you didn’t mind it in the slightest. He kept coming back to you, after all.

The summer of 1985 claimed to be your shameless era of this rotating duo of men at your door and you managed to balance them expertly. Although both relations were without the label of being exclusive, you still enjoyed the thrill of not telling one about the other. By mid-summer, you were probably getting dick almost every second night on a consistent basis, and you never felt better about it. It was a routine that worked effortlessly for all three of you to the point where it was almost easy for you to keep Pierre and George from being aware of each other.

Pierre would often call you up one night to invite you over as his apartment seemed to be your usual go-to. It was often once he got home from work and needed some sort of distraction from the chaos of the day. He was definitely worth the trek to the adjacent neighbourhood. Pierre never called you over two nights in a row - he never wanted to look clingy and desperate, of course - but that just made for the perfect time to seek out George at his favourite downtown club.

George would never tire of seeing you, even unexpectedly. He lived a more spur-of-the-moment lifestyle than Pierre and that reflected into your so-called relationship. He was more of the kind to just show up at your apartment unannounced, sunglasses on in some weak attempt to hide his identity from any passersby.

That being said, maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised to see the lanky brunette leaning against the brick wall of your building when you turned the corner that evening. He was bathed in the warmth of the street light and it cast his long shadow across the sidewalk and onto the empty road. At the sight of you, he pushed himself away from the wall and tipped his sunglasses down his nose despite the late hour it was.

“Hey.” he said coolly.

“Hey yourself.” you answered with a faint smile as you drifted past him to the front door of your flat.

“Where were you?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” you countered cheekily, stepping up onto the front stoop to have a bit of height over him and you leaned on the stone railing.

George shrugged, “No.”

“I was out with a friend.” you fibbed before turning it back to him, “Have you been waiting out here long?”

Another shrug, although his passiveness was brushed aside by the way he was staring at your lips, “Not really.”

You obviously knew his intentions for being there and especially at such a late hour but after the few months you had known George, you came to realize the fun in the game of it all. Leaning into the railing a little more, you were even closer to him, tauntingly close, and his face naturally turned towards yours.

“Well,” you whispered, eyeing the way he licked his lips as if anticipating your kiss, “you’re gonna be waiting longer. I’m too tired tonight.”

And then you stood up straight again and stepped up another stair as George sighed heavily and slumped against the stone railing. He stared up at you with playful disappointment but it was a game you both played well - it was the thrill of the chase. You found it fun to string George along a little - the race car driver who got everybody he pointed at - whereas you could never say no to Pierre. They were so alike in a lot of ways and yet so different all in the same.

Your little fib wasn’t entirely a lie since Pierre really did wear you out that night and you couldn’t imagine putting out your best work for the second time in a few short hours…but George didn’t need to know that detail.

“Come on,” George tisked and pulled his sunglasses off all the way to give you that sweet blue-eyed stare under the porch light of your building, “I came all the way out here.”

“And you’re going to be going all the way back.” you whispered down to him from two steps up.

You stared at each other for a few seconds before George sighed and retreated a pace or two, fiddling with his sunglasses in his hands. He glanced at you again, giving you a once over, as he slid a hand in the front pocket of his plaid trousers under the long matching jacket. That look he gave you was the same one he used on you to get you to take him home that first night, but you weren’t budging.

“I’ll call you.” you told him the same thing you had told Pierre, keeping your proud upper hand. “You at Tramps tomorrow night?”

At the mention of his usual club, George smiled to the sidewalk with a small shake of his head in disbelief, his soft brown curls dancing around the nape of his neck as he did so, before he was looking back at you, “Of course.”

“‘Kay.” you took another step up, “Then I’ll see you there.”

He watched you reach your door before calling out, “And what am I supposed to do tonight?”

Standing in the doorway of your modest building, you replied down to him with a cheeky smile that seemed to only get you into beautiful trouble, “You have those Polaroids I gave you. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

And then you disappeared inside, leaving him alone on the dark London streets.

As usual and as promised, you picked out George in the crowded club the following night, amongst the haze of cigarette smoke and chaos of drunken strangers and thudding music. Having put him off the previous night, you didn’t waste a second before bee-lining right for him in the centre of the packed dance floor with sweaty bodies moving as a singular mass. You spent the better part of three hours together there, drinking and dancing, and wasting your time at a table out of the direct noise of the music kissing rather than talking. Sure, he had a public image to withhold, but when you got your hands on each other, it was to hell with that.

It was nearing 2am when you finally stumbled out of the club together and out onto the eerily vacant streets of Northern London. A few other venues along the main roads housed little pockets of lively nightlife but outside of the drunken crowds, the world felt eerily silent. The ringing of your ears when faced with the silence out of the hours spent in the club was familiar and the alcohol in your veins had you a giggling mess as your non-exclusive ‘date’ had you backed up against the brick wall around the side of the building.

You had mumbled something about asking if you should go back to your place as he trailed sloppy kisses down your neck and, in the haze that surrounded you, you could barely make out his slurred reply being something along the lines of your apartment being too far. But then suddenly you were walking up the front steps of his family home at 3:00 in the morning and he was hushing your drunken giggles as he unlocked the door and pulled you inside by the hand. This was uncharted territory.

The black and white cat sitting on the stairs in the moonlight meowed at you on your way past but you paid no mind, trying to focus all your tipsy attention on not making too much noise and waking his family. Turning left at the top of the narrow staircase, George’s room was directly ahead and he led you inside quickly before shutting his bedroom door effortlessly silently as if he had been sneaking in late like this for months.

His childhood bedroom felt almost too small for him at twenty-five and you swore his entire room was the equivalent of a closet, barely able to fit his single bed in the corner by the window and a small dresser by the one-door closet directly in front of the entry. The motorsports posters and photographs that covered the walls were not much unlike Pierre’s bedroom too although George had the addition of a shelf of karting trophies and various framed pictures from his race wins as a boy. That being said, the way he decorated his room was the least of your concerns as, like usual, your attention was taken to each other and the urgency that came with the ridding of clothes.

In your clumsy, drunken, hazy state, you barely remembered the way the moonlight bathed the small room as you rode him on his narrow bed. His hand was clamped over your mouth to keep you quiet as you always had a tendency to get loud and this was no longer within the privacy of your apartment. His parents were asleep in the adjacent room at that, right through the thin wall that the bed was up against.

The riskiness of it ended up being a perfect reason for George to smother your face in his pillow as he took you from behind, his hand tangled in your hair to pin you down face first so the uncontrollable whimpers that fell from your lips were muffled by the down-filled pillow. With your arms wrapped around it tightly, you gladly let him have his way with you, unbothered and unconcerned by the faint creak of the mattress and the obvious slick slap of your sweaty skin together. The wonder of how loud you actually got would be something to be dealt with the following day.

You never usually stayed the night with either of your two guys - it was just easier to leave quickly to avoid the hassle of any lingering feelings or small talk. But, with it being nearly 4am and in an unfamiliar part of town now, your drunken and exhausted body ended up falling asleep in seconds under George’s arm, smushed up close in his small single bed.

Come morning, a knock at the bedroom door startled you awake and George stirred from behind you, shifting under the sheets with a sleepy sigh against your shoulder and his arm stayed heavy around your middle.

“Time to get up, pumpkin.” a lady’s voice said from the hallway, “You don’t want to be late today!”

George rolled away from you - only slightly to keep from falling off the narrow bed - and he directed to the door, “Yeah, Mum, I’m up.”

“I’m making breakfast when you’re ready!”

Her receding footsteps left the hallway and headed down the stairs and you giggled softly even as George groaned faintly and pulled his arm back to rub his tired eyes.

You teased quietly, “Morning, pumpkin.”

“Fuck off.” he swatted your shoulder in half-annoyance before asking quietly, “Why are you still here anyway?”

“You let me stay, don’t you remember?” you tisked, shuffling over to face him instead of the wall, and you tucked your hands under your cheek, “What a shit host you are.”

“Alright-” he rolled his eyes towards the ceiling at your teasing.

“I’m such a good fuck that it got you turning domestic or something.” you shrugged. “Wanted a little snuggle last night.”

George looked over at you close at his side, “I’d kick you to the curb right now if my family weren’t awake and around.”

You knew he was just playing and so you reached over to ruffle through his messy dark brown hair, “Momma doesn’t know her perfect racer son is bringing home groupies?”

George grabbed your wrist to stop you, reminding you seriously, “You’re not a groupie.”

With a stagnant smile across your face, you just stared at him and let your hand settle down against his bare chest, “What am I then?”

He kept your eye contact for a few seconds before finally answering, “A really great friend.”

“Emphasis on really.” you chuckled.

“Yeah,” George laughed lightly, “Such a lovely pal.”

“Best buds.” you added.

The two of you were still laying right up close together with how small his bed really was, legs a little intertwined and arms having no choice but to go around bodies in the limited space you had. Your hushed conversation was easier in such close proximity - especially as you could hear his father walking around in his room through the wall. You certainly didn’t want to get caught.

“Are you back at Tramps tonight?” George asked you, as if he were already impatient to hook up again even before you left.

“I might. Will you?”

“Yeah. After Silverstone.”

“Oh, right, that’s today.”

“Yeah, and we have to be at the circuit an hour early for additional preparations. Anything to try and get a win. We haven’t won once this year yet.”

“I’m sure you will today.” you assured him easily.

George couldn’t answer you before the footsteps coming up the stairs captured his attention and with speedy reflexes and a very strong awareness of his immediate family, he pulled the blankets right over you just as his mother came walking right in.

“Mum, do you ever knock?” he snapped.

She ignored him with a casual, “I just finished ironing your suit for today. I don’t want you creasing it before you have to go so please be cautious.”

“Okay.” George huffed, bunching his sheets to try to make it look like it was only him in his tiny bed as he watched her hang his plaid suit and matching trousers on the hook on the back of his door, “Thanks.”

“Who were you talking to?” she asked.

“Myself.” he answered stiffly, “Bye.”

“Alright, alright. Hurry up, now.”

At the sound of the bedroom door closing again, George removed the sheets from over your head and you bit back your grin at him at the close call.

But he just rolled his eyes with a huff and pressed the heels of his palms to his forehead, “I seriously need my own flat.”

George managed to sneak you out while his family was busy sitting down for breakfast in the dining room, giving you the chance to hurry down the stairs together and he ushered you right out the front door. You just managed to give him a fleeting kiss and a whispered wish of good luck before his father was calling for him from across the quaint house. Without a look back, you walked down his driveway in last night’s dress with your heels in your hand, turning the corner onto the sidewalk to head for the train station in the centre of his neighbourhood.

It wasn’t long before you were back in your building and as soon as you unlocked your front door and stepped inside, your attention was drawn to the ringing of your phone. You hurried to shut your door and your keys and shoes were dropped on the kitchen counter on your way towards the corded phone on the wall. Snatching the receiver off the hook, you answered with a quick, “Hello?”

“Hey,” the voice replied, crackling slightly through the connection, “It’s Pierre.”

He usually called you but this time it managed to take you by surprise, especially since it was morning and he only ever called after work. Not to mention you had just returned from George’s in last night’s dress in some sort of walk of shame, desperate to keep your secret as your second lover called so unexpectedly. The recent overlaps between your two men were getting a little too close for comfort.

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked. “You don’t usually call this early.”

“I came by your place last night but you weren’t home.”

“Oh? Sorry, I was out with a friend.” you half-fibbed, resting back against your counter, “I didn’t expect you to want to see me two nights in a row.”

Pierre chuckled softly through the phone and the warm, low sound had your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He countered your statement smoothly, “Why not?”

“It’s not your usual routine. I’d like to think I know you well enough by now.”

“I didn’t think I had a usual routine.”

“You do. And you never just drop by. What changed last night then?”

“Well, I was in your neighbourhood and I couldn’t stop thinking about the other night so I thought I’d try my luck and stop by and see if you were available.”

“I see.” you smiled across your kitchen, “You were thinking about me that much?”

“Oh, come on.” Pierre laughed lightly, “Don’t be coy. You know very well that I think about you a lot. You make it very difficult to not think about you.”

You pursed your smiling lips and pressed your luck, “Well, what exactly were you thinking about?”

“Look at you; wanting the dirty details at not even eleven in the morning.” he tisked through the phone. “I don’t think I want to tell you after you basically stood me up last night.”

“Oh, please!” you laughed, “You can’t call it ‘standing you up’ when we didn’t even have plans. Should my days and nights revolve around waiting by the phone for you, Pierre Gasly?”

“Oui.” he answered cockily, the smile evident in his gentle voice, “Don’t I make it worth it?”

You sighed at the steamy memories that flashed before your eyes and the thoughts of the previous night with him lingered at the forefront of your mind too, smiling through your answer, “Yeah.”

“I can make it worth it tonight too, if you’re available.”

“Mhm?” you turned to lean forward over the countertop on your elbows, falling into a lustful haze over what he was insinuating. But then the awareness that you had already promised George your attention that night halted your dreamy state before you could get too ahead of yourself. Your eyebrows narrowed for a moment in thought as you stared at the kitchen backsplash, debating your options, torn between two.

Pierre spoke in your silence, “Is that a yes?”

You played a little hard to get with him, loving the game and the chase that came along with it, “Are you not at work right now?”

“I’m alone in the lunchroom. Had to sneak away to call you…think my balls might explode if I don’t fucking see you tonight.”

“This sounds like blackmail.”

“Just the truth.” he teased, “Miss you so bad. Miss your body so bad.”

“Is that so?”

“Let me see you. I’ll make it so worth your while.”

You liked playing a little hard to get but you knew that regardless of what you said or did, by the end of it, you always managed to get what you wanted. You stayed silent for a brief moment, pondering, offering him a soft ‘hm’ in thought that had him sighing exasperatedly through the phone. The idea that rose in your mind brought a sly smile to your face and you twirled the spiraled phone cord around your fingers as you offered to him, “Did you want to come to the club with me tonight?”

“Oh- yeah, that could be fun.” Pierre answered, slightly taken aback by your suggestion to spend time with him outside of bed.

“Yeah?” you licked away your grin, “Should we say 9:30 then? Tramps…do you know it?”

“Yeah, a few of my mates have been to that joint. They say it’s good.”

“It is.”

“I can stop by your place for 9:30 and we can head over together if you want rather than meeting there.”

The flutter in your heart was unfamiliar and you rubbed your palm across your chest to try and ease it as you answered him casually, “Sure, okay.”

“Alright.” Pierre’s smile was obvious in his voice, “Wear something sexy.”

“Why? So you can take it off me later?”

“If you’re good.”

“Aren’t I always?”

He chuckled lowly, “See you tonight.”

You closed your eyes to try and picture his smile in your mind, him standing at the phone in the lunchroom of his job, only wanting to talk to you and no one else. There was no way you were deprived by any means and yet you still craved him so strongly from just hearing his voice and his risqué little confessions. You could never be completely satisfied for any longer than the duration of one of your nights together with either young man - you were constantly wanting more. Maybe more was what you were striving for in your fleeting spur-of-the-moment idea to invite him to the club that George was expected to be at that very same night. In a breath, you answered him softly, “See you.”

This was either your craziest or best idea yet. It was still undecided. Even as you walked down the stairs into the crowded club with Pierre at your side, a sliver of your mind was worried that this would go all wrong and you’d end up without either of them. You just had to remind yourself that both pairs of you had agreed to not be exclusive. You were doing nothing wrong.

You passed your jackets over to the coat check clerk before following the music through the archway into the main space of the club, guided by the neon lights that were designed in swirling patterns across the ceiling. The loud music was familiar to you, rattling the worn walls of the London underground club and the floor buzzed with the motion of dancing strangers. Your hand naturally fell into Pierre’s as you weaved your way through the crowd towards the bar to get your first drinks of the night. You started with a shot each and then ordered your normal drinks - and he paid for both, even though you insisted otherwise. It wasn’t a date, after all.

Nursing your glasses, you found yourselves an empty bar table and Pierre spoke about his work a little and the ongoing projects, keeping the talk surface level and light since you never met up for in-depth conversations. That wasn’t about to start then and there, that was for sure. Once you finished your first drinks and he returned to your table with refills for the both of you, you let your eyes skim the crowd as you sipped.

“So how often do you come here?” Pierre asked loudly over the upbeat music, standing close to you at one of the small round standing bar tables.

“About twice or three times a week.” you answered without looking at him, your attention too focused on skimming the dimly lit moving crowd for any sign of that long brown hair as you cuddled the cold glass in your hand.

“How’d I not know you were such a socialite?”

You finally looked at him and answered smoothly, “I mean usually when we’re together, not much chit chat is going on.”

Pierre chuckled faintly behind a sip of his own drink before licking his lips and agreeing, “I suppose that’s true.”

“Do you dance?” you asked.

“Huh?” he leaned in closer to hear you over the music.

You set a hand on his shoulder to ask again closely, “Do you dance?”

“Not well.” he replied.

“Me neither.” you laughed before setting your glass down in exchange for a grasp of his arm, “Come on.”

Pierre put his drink on your table alongside yours and let you pull him into the chaos of the dancefloor. You were familiar with some basic moves but it wasn’t very difficult to just let the music move you. No one cared how ridiculous you might have looked - they were all too drunk to care anyway. So you held Pierre’s hands and you shared a small part of the dancefloor together, moving and grooving to the upbeat funky songs.

You spun around together, almost tripping over each other with what unskilled dancers you were, but it was a mess of enjoyable glee and as Pierre tugged you closer by your waist, you let yourself fall into him. Your arms slung around his shoulders and his hands greedily rubbed down your waist and over your ass, ignorant to the strangers pressed up around you as your lips were drawn together without second thought. Still swaying to the music together - more than lucky you weren’t stepping on each other’s toes in the process - you made out filthily in the middle of the sweaty and crowded club.

Bumping and dancing strangers knocked into you but you weren’t fazed, tangling your fingers in the back of his hair to pull him closer to taste more of his tongue in your mouth and the light scruff of his facial hair against your cheeks. He held you against his chest in a familiar embrace - a practiced dance of your own - and you felt the faint vibration of his moan into your kiss behind the rhythm of the music that surrounded you. You sucked on his tongue with insistent desire between sloppy kisses, hands all over bodies among sweaty strangers and, for a moment, you forgot that you were waiting on George to arrive.

“Putain,” Pierre swore as he broke away from your kiss with a tilt of his head and a heavy sigh, “I wanna take you home already.”

You giggled and leaned in to kiss him some more, sharing a few more impolite open mouthed kisses before pulling away again to answer him, hands sliding down his chest, “We just got here though. We don’t want to leave just yet.”

Pierre stared at you down the bridge of his nose, pressed up close to you in the middle of the crowded dancefloor, and his expression was shadowed by the horrible club lighting and the dancing streaks of neon light that rained down from the ceiling, but you could read the desire on his face so easily. His hands slid up your waist and down your forearms, licking away the taste of you from his lips as he pitched, “Wanna go to the bathroom?”

“No.” you answered, “I want to make you wait for it.”

Pierre laughed humorlessly, “You are unbelievable.”

You soon found yourselves back with your drinks and migrated to a table with chairs to rest your feet after your attempt at dancing. Your legs were tossed over Pierre’s lap, draped down between his thighs, and his hand rested on your thigh almost too high up in your public setting. If you were any other girl, he’d be way past annoyed at your stringing him along and he would have long since left by now - but you were no other girl. You always made his patience worth it.

Although your attention was focused on Pierre, you couldn’t help but glance across the crowd every now and then, silently awaiting your second guest. But it turns out Pierre was unexpectedly ahead of you at that.

“That guy keeps looking over at us.” he nodded his head towards the bar.

You turned your head in the direction of the bar, looking through the less dense section of the crowd on the margins of the club, only to land your eyes on the lanky brunette leaning against the bar top on his elbow. He was in a white button up and those plaid suit pants that his mother ironed for him that morning, his gaze unwavering in your direction.

Clueless Pierre spoke again, “Oh, no way. I think that’s one of the guys from the Williams team.”

You played coy, “You think?”

“Yeah. I know what the drivers look like. I swear that’s him.”

You didn’t answer his rambles or acknowledge the way his thumb rubbed along your thigh, too busy making eyes at George across the club, your teeth sunken into your bottom lip to try and hide your forming grin.

Pierre kept going, snapping his fingers on his other hand, “Not Rosberg…what’s the other guy’s name?”

“Russell.” you answered without thinking.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s it.” Pierre nodded without taking his eyes off the man in the corner of the club, “I swear he’s staring at us.”

This was your perfect segue, “Want to meet him?”

Before Pierre could ask, you were already standing up and grabbing his hand to pull him to his feet after you. He tried to protest but his words were whisked away by the noise of the music and the crowd and you dragged him along the outskirts of the dancefloor to finally fall to a stop at the bar. George’s eyes followed you shamelessly, his flat expression unreadable, and he eyed you up and down once you stood beside him.

He was resting on his right arm on the bar, his left hand housing his drink, and you stood in front of him with Pierre just a step behind you. You couldn’t help but feel like you were nearly buzzing from a strange mix of nervousness and excitement and as George lifted his drink to his lips to sip, waiting for you to speak first, Pierre shifted in place.

“Hey.” you greeted coolly.

“Hello.” George replied with a slight cock to his head, “Who’s this?”

Pierre sensed the slight tension from the moment you approached the young man at the bar and he stayed a step behind you as if shielded by your confidence. But you were unfazed as you turned slightly so your back was facing the bar and you could easily look between them, “George, this is Pierre. Pierre, George.”

Like professionals, they reached out to shake hands briefly before George was speaking more to you than anyone, “You know, when you asked me if I was coming tonight, I figured it was because you wanted to see me.”

You rested your elbows behind you on the bar top, “I am seeing you now, am I not?”

George’s eyes flicked away from your face to look at Pierre, “I suppose.”

Pierre’s expression furrowed for a moment as he processed the strange encounter going on amongst you three and, if nothing else, the way George stared at you was somewhat of a dead giveaway. He looked at you too and you glanced between them innocently, waiting for one of them to talk first.

Pierre took the initiative, “So, how do you know each other?”

“We met here, actually.” George answered for you, speaking loudly over the music of the club, “Few months ago.”

Pierre nodded and lifted his drink to sip from.

“And you?” George asked.

“At the market a few weeks back…got talking…” Pierre drifted his gaze to you again as he pushed the boundaries around this stranger with a small sly smile, “then there wasn’t much talking going on after that.”

You gave his arm a playful swat, unaware of the way George’s eyebrows raised at the comment behind a long sip of his drink.

“So you’re sleeping together?” he asked bluntly, setting his empty glass on the bar.

“Yeah.” Pierre answered, almost protectively.

George’s gaze snapped right to you at that answer, expression almost offended and completely surprised.

You merely giggled and lolled your head to the side as you stared back at him, “What’s with the dagger eyes, George? Come on…not like I’m the only girl you’re seeing.”

Pierre’s head turned quickly to you as well, “You’re sleeping with him too?”

“Yeah, so what?” you looked at him, “We said we’re not exclusive.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Pierre shifted in place, his words fading out.

The guys looked at each other at the same time and you glanced between them and their unreadable flat expressions under the neon stained shadows of the loud club. They stood on either side of you, George a few inches taller than his counterpart, both just as equally close to you, and it almost felt surreal being with them at the same time. Your heart was racing in your chest and nothing had even happened.

“Who else?” George finally broke your silence amidst the noise.

“Just you two.” you shrugged innocently, laughing faintly, “I’m not that much of a slut…damn.”

“And you asked us both to come here to meet you for what reason exactly?” Pierre questioned, leaning his left arm on the bar beside you, head cocked to the side expectantly.

You licked away your grin and looked away from the both of them to face forward towards the dancefloor almost shyly, not quite wanting to speak your idea out loud. So instead, you shrugged, and scuffed the toe of your shoe on the concrete floor despite your smile, George’s black loafers on your left and Pierre’s black sneakers on your right. But with you not looking at them, the guys shared sly glances and knowing smirks at what your shy silence was insinuating.

Pierre’s hand on your face startled you slightly and he took your cheeks in his hand to pull your face in his direction so you could look at him, and he ordered you seriously, “Say it, cherie.”

George stepped closer at your side and brushed your hair over your shoulder before dragging his finger down your neck to raise shivers across your skin in his wake, “We’re listening. What do you want?”

You shifted in place, biting your bottom lip as you stared into Pierre’s eyes under his hand, confessing behind the thudding music of the club, “I wanted to take you both home tonight.”

“To do what?” George pressed.

Pierre’s grip loosened on your cheeks so you could look at George instead as you answered him, “So you can fuck me.”

“This was your whole game, huh?” Pierre taunted, “Luring us here just to corner us into a fucking three-way?”

“Do you not want that?” you looked back at him. “Because I can just take George here home instead.”

Pierre frowned and responded quickly, “No, no. Don’t do that. This could be…fun. And I’m not passing up my opportunity for a night with you.”

You turned to George, “And you?”

“Yeah, what the hell.” he shrugged with a smirk, “Haven’t done this kinda thing since Monte Carlo in ‘83. About time I give it another go…and with the loveliest girl in London at that.”

“No need to butter me up, George. I’m already set on taking you home tonight.” you chuckled.

George was always one who knew what he wanted and who got what he wanted, so he didn’t even hesitate before grabbing your chin in his hand to pull your lips on his. He had been waiting for it all day, after all, and your teasing was only making him that much more impatient. Not to mention seeing you nestled up with another man only to find out it was all a part of some sick little fantasy of yours. Who could blame him for not being able to keep his hands off you for a second longer?

Pierre shifted at your other side, looking away from your kiss at first to scan the crowded dance floor instead behind a sip of his drink, but then he was looking back at the two of you, figuring he was going to be seeing a lot more as the night progressed. So he let himself watch for a moment under the flashing neon lights of the club, eyes lingering on the hint of another man’s tongue helping itself to your mouth and the way your fingers tangled in the soft waves around the nape of his neck, pulling him into you. Then, Pierre was nudging your arm, urging you away from your kiss.

“Come on,” Pierre tossed back the last of his drink before setting the glass on the bar top, “let’s get our jackets and get the fuck outta here.”

“Meet you on the street.” George said, letting you slip out of his grasp, “Just gotta find my mates and tell them I’m leaving.”

George disappeared into the crowd to find his other driver friends whom he had come with while Pierre led you by the hand to the coat check. He stood almost protectively at your side, much closer than was even required in the tightly packed club, and when the attendant passed you your jackets, Pierre helped you drape yours over your shoulders. The refreshing nighttime air of downtown London filled your lungs as you stepped out onto the sidewalk and Pierre moved towards the curb to call a cab. Although it was still summer, the evenings had a tendency to get a little chilly and you were thankful for your jacket as you waited for your taxi and the third member of your little group.

Even without the thudding of the loud club music, your heart was still pounding against your ribcage, in near disbelief that your plan was headed into full swing. One look at either of them and you were burning with desire, already way ahead of yourself. In the privacy of the darkened city street, any passersby too drunk or distracted to pay any mind, you slid a hand down over the front of your skirt to press against your aching cunt.

A figure sauntered up beside you and you didn’t need to look to know it was George. He eyed you for a second before speaking, “Haven’t even left the premises and you’re already touching yourself. Haven’t even laid a hand on you yet and you’re already touching yourself.”

You took your hand back to fold your arms across your chest, glancing over at him playfully, “Shut up.”

His finger was hooked in the back of his jacket that was tossed over his shoulder, looking so casually suave as the nighttime breeze ruffled through his brunette waves. He stared at you right back, big blue eyes hazy in the neon light of the club’s exterior signage above you, and you looked away first just as the taxi pulled up to the curb.

“Merde. Finally.” Pierre yanked open the back door and gestured the two of you over, “Come on.”

George walked around the opposite side as you climbed into the middle seat, forcing you to be sandwiched between the two men as Pierre got in behind you. The two rear doors were closed, sealing you all in, and you leaned forward to tell the driver your address. When the driver pulled away from the curb and you settled back in your spot, both Pierre and George were looking at you. You couldn’t deny the sly little grin that was inching across your face and although it was exactly what you wanted, to be squished in the back of a cab with the two of them together, you couldn’t help but feel a little shy.

Pierre set his hand on your thigh, just above your knee, and he teased at the hem of your skirt with his fingertips, “Cat got your tongue now, cherie?”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this quiet.” George added from your other side, trailing his index finger down the length of your arm.

You were so attuned to the both of them there and everything felt warm. Your hands were folded on your lap but you slowly unclasped them to set one on George’s leg and then one on Pierre’s, not straying much farther than just above their knees as you answered them softly, “I’m just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” George pressed, his blue eyes nearly analysing your profile expressionlessly, and his finger reached up to ghost over your jawline.

Your hands slid a little farther up their legs and Pierre’s other hand wrapped around your wrist to caress your forearm as you answered, “Tonight. What we’re gonna do.”

“Whatever you want to do.” Pierre replied coolly.

“Where’s the fun in me telling you what to do?” you countered in a fit of bravery, glancing over at him with a smile you tried to bite back.

Pierre’s eyes flicked past you to exchange a silent glance with George and then you, too, looked at George.

“You both know my limits.” you continued quietly, trying to not be overheard by the taxi driver as you glanced between them again, “And I can always say stop.”

“You really just want us to have our way with you, don’t you?” George’s eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Fucking slut.” Pierre added from your other side.

You licked away your grin as you face forward again, staring straight out the windshield at the passing streetlight stained blocks of London that passed you by. Your hands gave their thighs a little squeeze but didn’t spare them another glance. In your peripherals, you could see the way the two of them looked at each other across you as if sharing silent conversation and then suddenly, their conversation was verbal.

“Is she always this easy for you?” George asked him like you weren’t even there, despite the way his fingertips danced across your knee and teased under the hem of your skirt.

“Usually.” Pierre answered almost proudly, “You seem surprised.”

“She tends to make me work for it a little more. She just loves the chase. Plays coy.”

“Kinda like now…wanting to see just what we’ll do to her despite all the ways she has probably already imagined this?”

“Mhm,” George’s hand slid farther along the inside of your thigh although you kept your knees tightly together, “A plan like this certainly doesn’t come to fruition in only an evening.”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you kept your stare straight ahead, playing clueless to the way they talked about you, got acquainted, and the way they caressed your thighs and slowly inched up your skirt just enough to tease you.

George finished his statement, “She’s definitely been thinking about it for a while.”

Pierre’s hand helped itself up your skirt, his slender fingers sliding between your legs to knead at the tender flesh of your inner thigh, tainted by the warmth of your body and the lust that grew within you as he spoke lowly, “Looks like she’s finally getting what she wants.”

You couldn’t help but look down towards your lap to get a glimpse at how their hands disappeared up your skirt. They weren’t doing much as of yet but their warm, purposeful caresses of your thigh had you burning for them more and more, feeling like if they didn’t touch you soon you might have been sick from the anticipation. So you parted your knees slightly, just enough to give them the hint that you were theirs to touch if they saw fit; that it was exactly what you wanted.

Although they noticed your move, they didn’t give into you right away. Pierre’s warm chuckle from your right had you licking your lips as you stared at their hands in your lap and he spoke across you to George, “I think she wants more.”

You couldn’t help the playful “shh” you habitually replied with, shifting in place under their hands.

“She’s already squirming for it.” George added, his eyes focused on your face.

They spoke quietly so as to not be heard by the driver, sharing whispers past you back and forth as their hands caressed your thighs and his fingers teased your most sensitive spots without giving into your lustful desires completely. George leaned in and left a slow, lingering kiss to your jaw, so gentle that you could feel yourself throb up your skirt, and you shifted again to try and lessen the ache that grew inside you. He kissed you again a little farther down your neck as his palm rubbed down your thigh to your knee and right back up before giving your flesh a tender squeeze.

Pierre leaned in on your otherside, leading with his tongue right up the side of your neck to the sensitive spot just below your ear. The shiver that it caused had the both of them breaking into sly smirks that you could feel against your skin. A few more kisses from the both of them and you were arching against the leather seat of the taxi with a soft huff to try and shift away from their ghostly touches, closing your legs again tightly as your fingers grasped at the fabric of their pants on either side of you.

“She can barely handle this.” Pierre chuckled lowly.

“Look at her.” George tisked from your other side, “Can hardly contain herself.”

“I can’t wait to see how she looks when we both get inside her at the same time.”

Pierre’s blunt statement had you biting your lip harder, attention darting over to him. He was sitting so closely at your side that when you turned your head to look at him, your noses were almost touching and you could feel his breath. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. The world felt like an alcohol-induced crazy dream.

“Is that what you want?” George asked from your other side, drawing your gaze over to him on your other side, “You want us both inside you? Is that why you cornered us out here?”

You nodded.

“Say it. Say that you want us both inside you at the same time.”

You couldn’t speak for a moment with how stunned you were, dumbly staring at him like a deer in headlights. George’s hand lifted from your lap to wrap around your throat, his lips only millimetres away from yours, capturing you in place.

“We’re not going to do what you want if you don’t obey us.” Pierre told you sternly from your other side.

Pierre spoke so closely but your gaze was locked on George’s big blue eyes, held in place by his hand around your throat, and you licked your lips faintly just as the taxi pulled up outside your apartment building, in perfect time for you to answer them in a hushed whisper, “I want you both inside me.”

Pierre’s hand slid further up your inner thigh and he gave you a proud squeeze, “Good girl.”

You followed Pierre out of the taxi as George tossed a few bills at the driver for payment before he was following quickly after the both of you. You waited for him at the steps of your building, making sure both of them were within arm’s reach before you were letting yourself into the elevator lobby bathed in the fluorescent flickering light across the ceiling.

Waiting for the elevator was near torturous as you three knew that you must remain composed while still in such a public setting regardless of the fact that there was no one around at such a late hour. Regardless, you were all too attuned to the feeling of them standing so close on either side of you as if they were guarding you, claiming some sort of protection over you, and your insides stirred with imagination of what was waiting for you once you got upstairs.

Even in the elevator, the tension was cramped amongst you in the tight space. You could feel the heat of their bodies against yours, the fabric of their clothes, and their fingers trailed over your hips, your arms, your neck, as if testing the waters of where they were wanting to touch you. It was shiver worthy, addicting, making your heart thud against your ribcage in lustful anticipation.

The key was nearly trembling in your hand as you unlocked your apartment door, so aware of the two men standing beside you that you almost forgot how to properly function. All you wanted was them as if it was your only reason for living at that moment. The door couldn’t close behind the three of you fast enough.

Your darkened apartment was lit only by the street lights streaking in through your living room window, leaving the three of you amongst shadows as you nearly tripped over each other farther into the apartment. Your purse was dropped aimlessly on the kitchen counter with your body facing the both of them as they moved in towards you like you were prey. As your back hit the edge of the counter, you were trapped between it and them and your hands naturally reached out to grab onto the front of their shirts to guide them closer, nearly sharing breaths through slightly parted lips as your gaze flicked between them.

You had this whole idea for how you were going to get them in the same vicinity but it was apparent that was as far as you got within your planning. What the hell were you supposed to do now? Who was going to make the first move? As much as you loved feeling both of them so close to you, you were completely unaware as to what your next step was. This was entirely new uncharted territory.

“God, look at you,” Pierre’s hand raised to the side of your face and the pad of his thumb ghosted across your parted lips, “you’re so fucking clueless.”

George took his jacket from where he was holding it over his shoulder still and he dropped it onto the counter beside you as he spoke, “Dumb little girl couldn’t even fully develop her plan before diving right in.”

They knew you too well. They could both read you like a fucking book. It was obvious that you could hold no secrets with either of them and this was only the living proof. Habitually, affected by the control they so easily held over you, you tugged at the front of their shirts a little harder, forcing them a half step closer towards you until you were completely sandwiched back against the edge of the counter. Everyone was so close together and you only had to turn your head a microscopic amount to look between them, feeling their breaths on your face and their eyes drinking you up in your darkened apartment.

Pierre, George, Pierre, George, Pierre, George- How were you supposed to choose who got the first ounce of your attention?

Pierre, with his hand still holding your face, took that responsibility himself as he grew tired of the lingering tension and pulled your lips on his. You melted into him so easily, eyebrows furrowing a moment as you fell into his familiar kiss, and right away he was parting your lips with his own to introduce a hint of tongue. You let go of the front of his shirt to grab the back of his neck instead to make him kiss you harder while still keeping George’s nicely ironed shirt under your insistent grip.

Without the distraction of his jacket anymore, George’s hands were focused only on you, sliding up your sides of your perfectly tailored dress as he watched you kiss another man right in front of him. Your fingers twisted in the soft fabric of his shirt and when you broke away from Pierre for a moment, your head was naturally turning towards George instead and he moved with you without instruction, taking your lips with his effortlessly.

Pierre’s hand moved from your face to the back of your neck as if guiding you into kissing another man. His eyes analysed your every slight motion and was attuned to even the faintest little moan you let slip into George’s mouth when his tongue met yours. Your apartment was a silent harmony of your shared heavy breaths and deepening wet kisses, accentuated only by the sound of faint brushes of hands over clothes. So innocent, so tempting.

Pierre was always the bossier of the two as you had come to realize over the months of sharing late nights with each of them so he didn’t hesitate to grab your chin and force you away from George when he was ready for a turn of his own. You barely had a second to lick away the cocky smile on your face before he was shoving his tongue in your mouth and shutting you up with his lips. Your arm tossed around his shoulders to pull him impossibly closer while your other hand let go of George’s shirt to wrap around his waist instead, urging him towards you some more as well.

George’s full lips dusted over the shell of your ear just enough to send shivers down your spine at his ghostly touch and warm breath before he was nipping at your earlobe and then leaving a slow open mouthed kiss to your neck, all while Pierre was still kissing you. Your legs nearly gave out from under you, already feeling yourself soaking through your panties under your dress, unable to hide the hungry moan that tumbled from your lips and against Pierre’s own. You burned for the both of them, feeling as though the temperature in your apartment was that of the summer heat, and your dress suddenly felt extremely suffocating.

“I need-” you were barely able to get the sentence out as the moment you separated from Pierre, George was pulling your lips on his impatiently. You gladly kissed him back for a few seconds before your hands were blindly drifting to the front of their shirts again and you pushed them both an arms length away from you. You were already breathless and flushed, way past the point of horny, and you licked your lips before trying your statement again, “I need to get out of this goddamn dress right now.”

George cocked his head in the direction of your bedroom, “Come on then.”

You followed behind them as they both turned for your bedroom, the three of you crossing your moonkissed hardwood floors towards the partially open door opposite the small kitchen. The two men only stopped when they both tried to go through the opening first. Stopping, they looked at each other flatly for a split second. You didn’t have a split second to waste as you pushed right past them and grabbed their wrists on your way to fully yank them through the doorway together and into your familiar bedroom.

Once inside, you grabbed the first one you turned to when you rotated 180° to face them which happened to be Pierre. As you walked backwards farther into the room, your hand found the back of his neck and his hands went to your waist, pulling you right up against his body as you breathed into each other’s open mouths, lingering on that anticipation before the kiss. His lips ghosted across yours, taunting you, before finally capturing your bottom one between his two in a pornographic kiss.

George followed after you as he hurried to unbutton his white collared shirt, his attention more focused on you than his buttons as his fingers stumbled over each one. Your arms tossed around Pierre’s shoulders as your body arched into his, lips meeting and parting messily while his fingertips pressed into your hips over the fabric of your dress. After a few seconds you were reaching a hand out towards George and he let you lead him closer to join, gladly accepting your kiss as you broke away from Pierre again. You kept an arm around the both of them - making sure the space between you was as limited as possible - and George’s hand drifted down your waist to grab a handful of your ass. Your fingertips teased at the popped collar of his open shirt before trailing down his exposed chest blindly, your attention taken up by his lips and tongue as you purposefully pushed the fabric off his shoulders and he let it drop to the ground.

Pierre drifted at your side to stand behind you instead and his hands draped your hair over your shoulder so he could reach the top of the zipper on your dress. He gently pulled at it while his lips gravitated to your neck, feeling the shivers rise across your skin under his slow sensual kisses. You moved with him to help him slide your unzipped dress down your arms and to your waist while you were still hung up on George’s heavenly lips. Pierre took his time undressing you, letting his hands explore your familiar body while he kissed your neck and shoulder, groping your breasts over your bra or squeezing the flesh of your hips - he always knew just where to touch. But it was George who took the initiative to grab the fabric of your dress that was stuck around your waist and he pushed it farther down to let it fall to the floor where it pooled around your ankles.

“Let’s get you out of this.” Pierre’s voice against the shell of your ear rose shivers down your arms as his experienced fingers unclasped your bra effortlessly and you moved with him to let it fall from your arms and onto the floor with your dress.

Then, in a smooth motion, you were pulling your lips away from George to tilt your head back over your shoulder to get more of Pierre, moaning softly into his mouth as he kissed you again. His hand slid up around your throat, holding you in place, taking what he wanted from your lips and tongue for a few seconds before he, too, was breaking away from you so he could pull off his own shirt. The pile of clothes on the floor seemed to grow larger by the second but that was the least of your concerns as your attention was too captivated by the two brunettes on either side of you. Your hands trailed down each of their bare chests, feeling their familiar warm skin and slender bodies that truly felt like they were all yours and only yours to touch.

Pierre’s fingers ghosted up your waist and he pinched one of your nipples as he spoke lowly to the room, his accent thick against your ear, “I think our pretty little slut should get on her knees for us.”

Our. For us. You could have absolutely swooned. Maybe the giddy little smile that came to your face was a reaction enough, regardless of how you tried to bite it back, keeping your eyes downcast as your hands rested greedily against their chests.

“All shy now, are you?” George’s hand rested under your chin to tilt your head up, forcing your bashful gaze to focus on them. “Such an indecorous little girl at the club…now look at her.”

“Can’t even look at us.” Pierre tisked.

George’s hand shifted to grab your cheeks, “Her face is so flushed. Bet she’s absolutely soaked for us already.”

You couldn’t help the soft whimper that involuntarily slipped from your lips, making the two young men smirk proudly.

“Yeah?” George taunted, gently smacking his hand against your cheek once, “We haven’t even done anything yet and you’re already a whiny mess.”

Pierre took a half step closer and his fingers tangled in the back of your hair, giving your head a tug backwards just to prove they were in control before he spoke right against your cheek, “Just wait until we’re fucking finished with you.”

You could barely get out a breathy, “Please.”

“Come on then,” George coaxed, “on your knees.”

Never being one to say no to either of them - and certainly not when they were both looking at you like they were going to fucking devour you - you sank obediently to your knees amongst the mess of discarded clothes on the floor. The sound and sight of them unbuckling their belts simultaneously in your face was like angels singing and you clamped your thighs together tighter to smother the ache that radiated within you. You were so terribly impatient, hands reaching up to help guide their pants down as if they weren’t undressing fast enough.

The high-end fabric of George’s plaid slacks felt soft under your one hand and your other tugged at the rough denim of Pierre’s jeans at your other side until they were both stepping out of their pants. With the three of you left in only your underwear, your attention was narrowed in on only the two young men in front of you, feeling the way your stomach churned with near excitement and you were biting your lip until it was almost raw.

Despite the way words had seemed to abandon you at that point in the night, your shyness certainly didn’t apply to your sense of touch as your hands slid up their thighs greedily. Two perfect men standing tall before you with your invitation to touch them however you pleased, grazing your dainty fingers over their hairy thighs and finally over the front of their boxers. It was nothing you hadn’t done before, hadn’t seen before, hadn’t risked before, allowing you to feel no hesitation as you felt them up over the thin fabric that separated your palm from arguably your favourite parts of them.

Over the summer, you had been subconsciously comparing them to each other and as you swapped between them almost nightly, it was easy to start to find what was unique for each of them - in what they liked and how they looked and how they reacted to your touch. You weren’t surprised that they were both already incredibly hard, allowing your fingers to attempt to wrap around the shape of both of them through the fabric of their underwear, eyes shifting back and forth between them like a kid on Christmas morning. Oh, who to unwrap first?

Thankfully, they took that indecision into their own hands as they both shared some sort of silent agreement to drop their final piece of clothing at the same time, revealing themselves to you proudly. You truly and honestly grinned, entirely blessed to have two hands to touch both of them at the same time, habitually licking your lips as your eyes darted between their two perfectly beautiful cocks held so tenderly in your hands. You swore you were the luckiest girl in the damn world.

Yes, it was nothing you hadn’t seen before, however seeing them both at the same time right in front of you was absolutely thrilling. George was overall bigger and you knew that subconsciously from your summer escapades between the two but Pierre had a length to him that was unmissable. With a hand still around each of them, you leaned in towards George to give him a teasing lap of your tongue along the underside of the tip, urging his hand to fall naturally into your hair as you leaned in again for another lingering lick. But then you were turning to Pierre, just having to turn your head a bit and he, too, was right in your face.

Your tongue dragged right up the underside of his thick cock and then swirled around the tip, eyes staring up at him to gauge his reaction to your teasing touches. The lick of his lips was indication enough and when you pulled back from him, you pursed your lips to let a plentiful drop of spit fall onto the head of his cock. Your hand that was still around the base slid up to slick your palm in spit so you could glide easier around the soft warm shaft. Then you turned to George and did the same to him, allowing both of your hands to stroke them at the same time as your eyes drifted back and forth between them.

After a few seconds, you were moving back in to take the head of George’s cock in your mouth and you sucked on it lazily, letting your hand around him do most of the work. Then you pulled away to turn back to Pierre and give him that same treatment of hand and mouth for a few moments. When you pulled back from him, you sat back on your heels for a moment with a spitty grin on your face, watching your hands around each of them at the same time, all yours to do with as you pleased.

“This is incredible.” you breathed.

You had thought you said it in your head but the low, warm chuckles that came from the two men in front of you gave clear indication that you truly said it out loud. You weren’t embarrassed as they had both heard much worse things come out of your mouth since you began seeing each of them and, instead, you shuffled closed on your knees and let your mouth wrap around George’s dick again.

Leading with your tongue, you kept your jaw slack to keep your teeth out of the way, only going down about half the length as your hand tended to the rest. In steady time, you bobbed your head along with the pace of the strokes of your hand, caressing him with tongue and cheek. You moaned around him softly, eyes blinking up at him with your mouth full of dick, and with his big blue eyes staring down at you in return, his hand slid into the back of your hair again.

“Suck it harder.” he ordered.

You never wanted to disappoint either of them so you did as told, hollowing your cheeks on each up stroke to really suck on him snugly in your mouth as you pulled back. Your hands kept matching paces on the both of them, even if your attention wasn’t directly on Pierre at the present moment - he was definitely watching, however. George, selfishly, really started to try and pull you deeper on him until you were sitting back, letting his dick fall from your mouth with a wet pop.

Pierre grabbed your cheeks and pulled your head towards him, setting his other hand over yours around his cock so he could tap it against your spitty lips and make you open up. You stuck out your tongue and he slapped the head of his dick against it a few times before you took the initiative to sink your mouth down on him yourself. His groan was heavenly and you had you stretch your jaw a little more to fit him comfortably in your mouth without the interruption of teeth but he seemed to be appreciative of your efforts.

“Good girl.” Pierre praised lowly, still holding the base of his cock even as you took him in your hand and mouth and he watched you intently, very aware of your other hand still tending to George right beside him, “This what you wanted? Just wanted to take two dicks like a greedy little slut?”

You could only reply with a muffled “mhm”.

When you pulled off of him a few seconds later with a lewd pop, you gave George a purposeful tug to silently urge him a half step closer and you rewarded him with a wet kiss and a little suck. But then you were glancing back at Pierre who was only millimetres away and you tugged him a little bit closer too so you could guide both of them into your mouth at the same time. The both of them nearly choked over their breath in surprise, staring down at you with stormy eyes of the sea, shoved up together in your mouth. Logically, you couldn’t fit more than the tips in since the angle was naturally a little tricky but you worked them with your tongue and those sweet moans of yours to really make it worthwhile. Half of the time it was all about the show.

“Putain.” Pierre groaned, pushing his fingers through your bangs to get your hair out of your face and he grasped the back of your head.

“Fucking cockslut.” George said through his teeth as he grabbed a handful of your hair at the nape of your neck.

With both of them holding your head, you were forced in place but not like you would ever want to stop anyway. Your hands stayed wrapped around the base of each of their dicks, keeping them in your mouth, letting you slobber all over them until your spit was dripping onto the floor and your messy pile of clothes you were knelt on.

The lust was too strong for them to care that they were touching each other, too spurred on by the sight and sound of you on your knees for them and taking two dicks in your mouth at the same time. Your tongue dragged between both of them back and forth across the sensitive spots under the smooth heads, earning their fingers to grip harder at your hair. When you pulled off them to try and breathe for a split second, your eyes nearly shone at the sight of them standing stiff in front of your face, glistening in spit, and you dipped down to drag your flat tongue right up the underside of the both of them simultaneously.

After the stretch on your jaw from taking the two of them at once, you went back to the modest one at a time, feeding Pierre’s cock in your mouth back down to halfway as your hand stayed around the base. You kept those shallow bobs of your head going, smothering your moans with a stuffed mouth, and your hand’s twisting strokes kept him nice and hard against your tongue.

However, your half-assed attempt at a blowjob wasn’t getting past either of them and, with his hand still gripping your hair, Pierre started to pull your head deeper on him, demanding firmly, “Gag on it. I know you can take more than that.”

You dropped your hand from his cock to let your mouth get deeper, struggling to take his impressive size farther against your tongue until it hit the back of your throat. Your soft gag had you pulling back a little to keep a more respectable depth going.

But George had other plans from your other side as his hand in your hair shoved you deeper again, making you gag violently around Pierre’s cock as he ordered sternly, “Come on. Choke on his fucking dick.”

Your hands grasped Pierre’s thighs to keep yourself steady as you were forced deeper on him, both of them taking over your head to move you as they pleased, getting more of those filthy wet gags from your throat as your eyes burned with tears. It was nothing you would ever complain about since you would choose them over air any day.

When you finally had to break away for a gasp of air, they let you go, both of them staring at your flushed face and the way you had thick strings of spit trailing down your chin and onto the floor. Heaving for breath through a small cough, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and then reached for their dicks again, eager to keep going. Pierre’s palm smacked down against your cheek and his fingers squeezed your face to get your mouth to open so he could spit against your tongue before shoving your head towards George.

“You wanna be treated like a slut, don’t you?” Pierre taunted.

You felt as though you were in a complete haze, running on adrenaline stemmed from pleasure, and you barely answered him with an acknowledged hum before you were feeding George’s dick back into your mouth. After being forced to take Pierre’s, it was a bit easier now although you still gagged around George’s impressive length as he reached the back of your throat.

His hand tangled in your hair as he spoke down to you, “Want us to use you like you’re some stupid whore?”

Your moan around his dick was taken as affirmative and his hips nudged towards your mouth in an instinctive thrust, trying to meet your motions. You grasped onto his thighs and let your jaw fall slack into the deeper bobs of your head.

Just then, Pierre set his hand on the back of your head again and forced you all the way down until your nose touched the dark hair that dotted the base of his cock, encouraging George with a firm statement, “Fuck her throat.”

Knowing what was coming - since having had plentiful experience with the both of them - you blinked your teary eyes up at George as both of his hands held your head and he started to thrust into your mouth. Your fingernails dug into his thighs as tears burned your vision and made it hard to keep looking at him, your throat gagging and constricting around him in the filthiest wettest sounds as he had his way with you.

“Oh, fuck.” he moaned tightly, handsome face screwed up in ecstacy.

“That’s it.” Pierre stood right beside you, pumping his cock with his fist as he watched you turn into an absolute mess on the driver’s dick, his tongue darting out between his lips before his teeth were sinking down into the bottom one.

George’s fingers were tight in your hair as he yanked you into his every thrust like you were nothing more than a toy. It wasn’t the first time you had found yourself in that position with either of them, letting him take over all your senses at once until the rest of reality fell away into the ringing of your ears. That had you tapping out on his thigh and he made sure to let you go so you could catch your breath and let your senses come back to you.

The moment his dick fell from your mouth with bubbling strings of spit still connecting it to your lips, you were coughing loudly despite the biggest grin that was plastered across your face, blinking away your blurring tears. You moved back in to kiss his tip and then turned to give Pierre a little lick too, resting your warm hands on their thighs to take a second to catch your breath and just admire them from the floor. And underneath your sore knees, George’s once perfectly ironed plaid trousers were a wrinkled and spitty mess.

Pierre’s thumb slipped past your lips for you to suck on as he directed his question to the man beside him, “How wet do you think that got her?”

George chuckled knowingly, “Fucking soaked, probably.”

Pierre stepped aside and pointed to your nearly made double bed behind them, directing to you, “Get on the bed.”

You pushed yourself up from the floor with an obedient, “Yes, sir.”

As you walked between them to climb onto your bed, George’s hand smacked your ass on your way past and you flipped around to face them as you scooted farther back on the mattress. That ear-to-ear grin never left your face, especially as you watched them join you on the bed, George on your left and Pierre on your right. Resting on your forearms behind you, your legs were outstretched across the mattress with only your thin lace panties sitting snug around your hips, displaying your body for the both of them who were entirely familiar with each inch of your skin.

Even the few seconds you sat there motionless as they settled beside you were torturously impatient and your hips seemed to roll against nothing in desperate humanistic craving to get some ounce of friction between your legs. So you reached down yourself, sliding your hand over your underwear to rub your clothed clit a little, but you barely got your hand on yourself before Pierre was yanking you away by your wrist.

“Did we tell you to touch yourself?” he warned.

“Mm,” your head dropped back towards the ceiling impatiently, “no.”

“Does it ache?” George asked from your other side, his accent thick with lust as his fingertips ghosted over your hardened nipples.

“Yeah.” you exhaled.

“Yeah?” Pierre nudged your knee to the side to force you to spread your legs wider, “I bet it does, dirty girl.”

You stared down your body to watch his hand trail up your inner thigh and then down the other, not giving you the satisfaction of his touch where you craved it most. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in that heavy anticipation, watching his hand touch your thighs and your knees and your shins and your hips and even across your stomach and up your chest, urging an impatient whine out of you. Meanwhile, George’s fingers were pinching at your nipples before his mouth followed suit, plush lips wrapping around one for a teasing suck that had you falling back flat on the bed with a strained moan from your throat. Your wandering hands had a mind of their own, one sliding up the side of George’s face and into his soft brown waves while your other wrapped around Pierre’s bare bicep almost pleadingly.

George pulled away from your chest with a soft pop and his tongue glided up your neck before his lips were locking with yours. You moaned pleasantly into his kiss and your fingers tightened in his hair, holding his mouth on yours as your tongue nudged against his insistently. After a few seconds, Pierre’s hand was teasing the waistband of your panties and he linked a finger right through the two leg holes so when he pulled his finger up, the fabric was pulled taut over your clit. You broke away from George’s lips with a soft groan, impatiently trying to nudge your hips up against Pierre’s hand.

“That’s it, gorgeous. Want us to touch you?” George taunted down to you.

“Yes, Georgie.” you purred angelically, batting your lashes up at him and his handsome face, lifting a hand up to reach out to stroke his bare chest and the faint hair between his pecs.

“How long have you wanted this?” Pierre asked, tugging at your panties a little more so the tight fabric rubbed against your clit. “How long have you laid in this very bed and made yourself cum to the thought of both of us just having our way with you?”

“I don’t make myself cum,” you answered smoothly, draping your arms above your head lazily, “You two do it for me.”

The two of them laughed in realization of your spoken truth, the warm sound bringing an honest grin back to your face.

Pierre tugged harder at your panties to really get the taut fabric nestling between your lips, “You’re such a good girl.”

George elaborated as his hand drifted down to your body to apply a bit more pressure to your clothed clit with his fingertips, speaking directly to you as he did so, “A good girl who just wants us to treat her like a bad girl, huh? Like you’ve done something wrong?”

“Yes, sir.” you breathed, squirming against your bed under their unwavering stares.

“Like lying to us while you were out fucking the other behind our backs?” George added as he slowly slid his hand farther down between your legs, following the thin fabric of your panties linked tightly in Pierre’s finger.

You had no reply for him, too focused on his hand disappearing between your thighs and you lifted your head up from your pillow to try and watch with bated breath. Pierre’s hand let go of your panties and instead his slender fingers wrapped around your throat, pinning your head down against your pillow again under his snug grasp. But you were pulling him down by the back of his neck after you, forcing his lips on yours in a breathless kiss as George slowly traced the hem of your underwear right down between your spread thighs.

“You’re absolutely dripping…even your thighs are wet.” George breathed, dragging a finger along your inner thigh to touch the faint shimmer of wetness that had leaked from the protection of your underwear. The fabric itself was absolutely ruined just to show how turned on you already were and the simple action of him dragging three fingers over your clothed pussy had your hips nudging up against his hand and you moaned into Pierre’s mouth.

Then, George’s hand moved to slip down the front of your underwear, giving himself permission to touch you without the barrier of pesky fabric. Your gasp had Pierre’s hand tightening around your throat and his tongue pushed against yours, forcing his control over you even if he wasn’t the one touching you. The sounds of your sloppy kisses were equal to the lewd wet caresses of George’s fingers gliding over your leaking pussy, rubbing you slowly, tauntingly, smothering his fingertips in your messy wetness until they were covered.

Your hand wrapped blindly around his bicep as your other arm was tossed around Pierre’s shoulders, still kissing him breathless, and your legs habitually opened wider as if silently permitting George to touch you more. He seemed to take to your invitation as he took his hand back just long enough to push your damp underwear down your legs and they were tossed to the pile of clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed. The cool air of your apartment hitting your wet cunt made you shiver but his fingers were on you again in an instant, warming you up with the friction of his touch.

You broke away from Pierre with a choked moan and his lips found your neck instead, kissing you slowly under your ear, his facial hair tickling across your skin, while his hand moved down from your throat to your chest, tweaking at your nipples with warm touches. George’s hand was still between your legs and he glanced back at your face again while he rubbed across your pussy before slipping two fingers inside you. His eyebrows raised in time with the blissful parting of your lips, his attention focused on the wavering expression of your face as you stared at each other lustfully.

“Good girl.” he whispered softly, his voice as smooth as butter.

You barely had to make a move to reach for him before he was leaning down towards you on his own accord, locking your lips with his in a filthy kiss. The unkempt hairspray-stained brunette curls at the nape of his neck always called to your fingers and you laced your hand in the halo of styled brown hair to gently tug on. It was Pierre’s kisses on your neck that rose shivers down your arms although the heat that flushed across your body was thanks to the steady nudges of George’s two fingers inside you. They were a pair to be reckoned with it seemed - but you had figured that from the moment you met each of them individually.

Your bedroom welcomed your soft moans at their presence, egged on by George’s generous fingers and his kisses that swallowed up your audible praise. Pierre lifted his head from your neck and you shuttered at the graze of his touch over your clit, breaking away from George’s lips.

Although Pierre moved towards you like he was going to take his opportunity, he didn’t, and instead he let his fingers circle at your swollen clit as he spoke right to your face, “That’s it. You’re gonna let us have our way with you, huh? Make you feel so fucking good.”

He swallowed your whimper up with his lips like it was dessert, dragging his tongue against yours to taste the sweetness of your pleasure. George was right there as well and you only had to turn your face away from Pierre the slightest amount to be able to take kisses from him too. With their hands between your legs and sharing the responsibility of bringing you into that heart-racing euphoria, you went between their lips in turns, pulling at hair and the backs of necks as if you couldn’t get enough of them.

Both of them were tucked right up close to you on either side, gladly sharing in your kisses until you had to take a break to breathe, your gaze drifting down your body to their hands between your legs. As if sharing the same mind, they both sped up their fingers a little more, forcing a tight groan from your throat as your head fell back against your pillow.

“Give up control to us, cherié.” Pierre whispered against your cheek, “Let us take those stupid little thoughts from that pretty little head of yours.”

And then he was disappearing from your side and shifting down the bed.

George took his fingers out of you and the momentary lack of touch had you whining in displeasure as they situated themselves. Pierre shoved your legs apart wider and he slid down onto the mattress between them so he could spit right onto your pussy before his fingers were sliding right through it and back up. He slapped three fingers down on your clit, making you startle, and with a cocky smirk against your inner thigh, his blue eyes staring up at you, he gave you a few more smacks.

“Holy fuck.” you squeaked, stretching one arm out across the sheets to grasp at the fabric while your other hand wrapped around George’s bicep. You knew exactly what was coming and the way Pierre’s hand wrapped around your thighs and yanked you closer to him in the middle of the bed had you biting back an anticipatory smile. Once his tongue dragged right up over your pussy, your head was falling back with a beaming grin to the ceiling, “Yes.”

You had come to learn over the summer that they each had their strengths and it was a genuine fact that you could never get enough of Pierre’s mouth. In fact, many nights, he would go down on you until you were shaking and begging him to stop. He always just wanted one more orgasm out of you and maybe that’s what kept you going back and what kept you opening your legs for him. This was no different as he licked at your pussy and peppered open mouthed kisses over your glistening thighs and he suckled on your lips to make sure he was covering every last inch of you with his mouth.

“Oh my God, Pierre.” you whimpered, draping your arms above your head.

His large hands groped your flesh where your thighs met your ass and he spread you open to permit his tongue between your lips, lapping at the sweetness that dripped out of you before finally dragging a straight shot right up to your clit. You gasped hard, back arching off the bed slightly, and you choked out his name to the ceiling.

George, still sitting naked at your side, collected your wrists in his one large hand and kept your arms pinned above your head, ordering firmly, “Be a good fucking girl for us and hold still.”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip to try and contain yourself despite the way Pierre was repeatedly stroking his full tongue over your aching clit. You swore your entire body was sizzling, hungry and pulsing for some sort of release of all that pesky pressure building inside you and the moans that tumbled messily from your lips were only proof of that.

George’s hand was still pinning your wrists down to your bed but his other was aimlessly stroking his cock as his gaze was focused on the way Pierre went down on you, finding it incredibly hot to watch the way you spread your legs for another man despite that twinge of jealousy inside him that he wasn’t often familiar with. So, instead, he shuffled closer to you on his knees and let go of your wrists so he could pull your face in his direction and rub the head of his cock over your lips.

“Open.” he said lowly.

You took a breath before parting your lips and letting him push in his dick, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as he filled your mouth all while Pierre still tended to your clit in perfect wet strokes. George caressed your cheek with his warm hand and brushed your sweaty hair back from your face as he thrusted shallowly into your mouth so your cheek bulged slightly from the head of his cock. Your eyes fluttered shut through a soft moan, blindly moving a hand to wrap around the base of his dick to help keep him steady in your mouth while your legs draped over Pierre’s shoulders to pull him closer.

“You’re such a pretty little slut.” George cooed, trailing his fingers through your hair.

You tried to focus on him but Pierre’s mouth ravishing you between your legs was making any other task intensely difficult. Pierre wrapped his entire arms around your thighs to yank you closer to his mouth, holding you in place, and his nose brushed across your clit as his tongue nudged inside you again. You moaned messily around George as your other hand reached down to tangle in Pierre’s messy brown hair, helping yourself to nudge your hips up against his mouth some more.

When you pulled away from George’s cock for a moment to breathe, your hand picked up the slack in messy strokes slicked up from your spit while your head lifted up from the bed to look down at Pierre. Pierre’s blue eyes were already looking right back up at you from between your legs with half his face hidden as he smothered himself in your pussy, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs that were nearly wrapped around his head. The breathy moans and whimpers that tumbled from your lips were nearly involuntary and your head dropped back against the bed with the strong growing pleasure coursing through you.

George rubbed the head of his cock across your swollen lips, urging your mouth to open and he slipped inside again. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly as he took up your mouth in shallow thrusts and you tried to be good for him and give him all that you could at that angle. He seemed to take that upon himself though as his hand tangled in the back of your hair and his hips nudged a bit harder into your mouth until he was reaching the back of your throat and making you gag on his dick.

“Don’t take your mouth off it.” George told you lowly, holding you down on him with your nose nearly touching the dark hair that dotted the base of his cock.

You gagged loudly around him, tears blurring your vision and leaking down your flushed cheeks, and your hands pressed pleadingly against his thigh and his abdomen even as he gave you a few more shallow thrusts behind nearly pitch perfect moans. A few seconds later he was pulling right out, letting you heave a gasp of air as you coughed through the spit that drooled down your chin right at the moment where Pierre slipped two fingers inside you, forcing you to choke over your breath. Your hand kept stroking George’s cock while Pierre’s tongue found your clit again and he pressed warm wet kisses over it before taking it between his lips to suck on while his fingers nudged inside you strongly.

“My fucking God-” you choked out, writhing against the bedsheets.

George slapped his hand down against one of your bare breasts and then the other before finishing with a third smack to your cheek and then he was reaching down to grab your ankle and he yanked your legs open. With your legs forced apart, Pierre’s tongue had more direct access to your clit and his fingers were shoving into your sopping cunt at that perfect angle that tore the breath from your lungs. In fact, as he drew you closer, you habitually held your breath, limbs tensing as that intense warmth coiled tighter and tighter in the pit of your stomach.

George’s hand smacking against your cheek again startled the air into your chest, forcing you to squeak out a pitchy, “Fuck!”

“Are you gonna cum for another man right in front of me?” George taunted from beside you, groping your breasts one at a time and pinching your nipples just to add onto your already intense sensations.

You couldn’t do anything else but nod feverishly with a pitiful, “Uh huh.”

“Yeah? Wanna cum on his mouth?”

Your fingers tightened in Pierre’s hair, yanking him closer as his tongue and fingers worked in sync to finish you off, your eyes screwing shut as you body trembled, meaningless words tumbling from your lips, “Yes, yes, yes-”

“Good girl.” George’s hand wrapped around your throat while his other kept a snug grasp on your ankle to keep your legs spread wide for Pierre’s tongue. His blue eyes focused on your flushed face as he spoke to you with a lust that weaved itself through each word within his thick London accent, “Show me what an insatiable little whore you are and cum on his fucking mouth.”

Your mouth fell open dumbly, glazed eyes rolling back as your body shuttered against the sheets and bursts of pleasure took over your body. You could hardly recall crying out Pierre’s name through your moans as you struggled to get your senses about yourself, trying to turn away from his mouth that cleaned you up with an eager tongue. He would have easily stayed down there to make you cum over and over but he didn’t want to be selfish about it - there was another person involved after all.

So, instead, Pierre shifted up from between your legs, speaking down to you with that unmissable smirk of his, “What do you say?”

“Thank you.” you whimpered, letting him capture your words with his mouth in a filthy kiss. He still tasted like you and your arms tossed around his shoulders as you sucked on his tongue, trying to get his naked body against yours by your leg wrapping around his waist until he was slipping out of your arms just as quickly.

“Switch.”

Your head turned to George as he dictated the next move with a cock of his head and Pierre generously moved off the bed entirely, giving you room to take the initiative to rotate yourself 90-degrees so you were laying across the mattress at the ready for your other handsome suitor. George helped himself to your bedside drawer where he pulled out the half empty box of condoms and took one out to set between his lips as he situated himself on his knees between your spread legs.

“Who says you get to fuck her first?” Pierre said with a playful edge to his voice.

“I’m the original, in case you forgot.” George countered with a sly smirk, “I think I get priority.”

Pierre was right on the reply, “Shame she had to find a second man to properly satisfy her then.”

“Okay, okay.” you hushed them with a soft chuckle, “Don’t go and fight over me now.”

George ripped open the condom with his teeth as his narrowed eyes stayed directed to Pierre who was standing on the other side of the bed. You couldn’t see Pierre from how you were laying with him standing above where your head was, but that was fine since the sight of George rolling on the condom was highly intriguing to you. Despite the generous way in which Pierre finished you mere moments before, you still had that pesky ache that throbbed between your legs as you watched George prep to take you in the middle of your bed and so you reached a hand down to rub your fingers over your messy pussy impatiently. You slid two inside you for a moment, slicking them up in your wetness before taking them back out to spread your lips apart for him, taunting him silently. The low groan that fell from the Brit’s chest had you biting back your cocky grin; only more so as he shuffled closer to you on his knees so he could nudge the protected head of his cock right between your spread fingers.

Your eyes were focused down your body to stare, waiting for him to push inside you, and when you looked up at his face, you spoke to his stormy blue eyes with a whispered, “Please.”

The sly smirk that pricked at his lips was reply enough and no sooner was your weak request spoken was he slipping inside you steadily. Your hands slid up his bare body and over his chest with a strained moan at the initial stretch that was much more intense than Pierre’s fingers had been. And when your fingers tangled in the back of his luscious brown hair, you pulled him in for a sloppy tongue-led kiss and met him halfway, sharing hungry moans into each other’s mouths.

Pierre watched for a moment from his spot at the side of the bed, having a perfect view right down your body to watch you get fucked by another man when your kiss broke apart. You were a fan of watching too; lifting your head up from the mattress to stare down between your spread legs to see how your pussy stretched around George’s perfect cock and accepted every last inch of him. Your hands wrapped around his biceps as he rested on flat hands and straight arms on either side of your body, starting to thrust greedily into you.

“Fuck yeah.” you breathed, your hushed encouragement laced with a pretty whimper.

From above you, Pierre’s hand was taken to his dick and he couldn’t help but give himself haphazard pumps to try and rid that seemingly ever present ache. The sounds alone were enough, finding his head spinning from the creamy wet squeltches of your cunt and those lewd sounds of skin on skin in rhythmic succession. It was human nature; who could blame him?

Your head fell back against your mattress with a whine, skin flushing hot from the pleasure that burned within you, and your hands drifted from George’s arms to his shoulders with a quivering, “My God, George, fuck.”

Both men never failed to make you feel like heaven, knowing exactly what to do and how to do it to bring that dopey pleasured expression to your face. George’s precise curling strokes were no different, only being pulled into you harder by your legs wrapped around his waist. He seemed lost in you, moving one hand higher up the mattress to press beside your head as a rich moan fell from his chest, keeping the consistent snap of his hips against yours.

“Yeah, gimme it.” you pleaded with a voice that sounded like you were fighting tears. “Please, sir.”

Pierre’s hands on your arms startled you and suddenly he was yanking you closer to the edge of the bed towards him. George shuffled after you right away and he guided your legs up towards your chest as he pushed back inside you and picked up where he left off from his knees. With your head hanging off the side of the bed, you were at that perfect height for Pierre to slap his hard cock against your face and you couldn’t help the surprised giggle that passed your spitty lips. The two men smiled themselves at your sweet enjoyment with George still nestled deep inside you and Pierre then helping himself to your mouth. You kept your hands wrapped snugly around George’s biceps as he held your thighs back towards your chest, giving himself a perfect little hole to thrust into. And with your head hanging off the side of the bed, Pierre wasn’t much different in the sense that he, too, was shoving messily into you, taken by the warm wet confines of your mouth. His groan when he hit the back of your throat was nearly muffled by your gag and out of instinct your nails dug into George’s skin.

“Take it.” George ordered, staring down at you beneath him and the faint bulge in your throat that appeared with every one of Pierre’s thrusts into your mouth. He stayed steady himself, pushing into your pliant body, his familiar hands pressing strongly into the backs of your thighs to literally hold you in half.

You couldn’t stay like that for long with Pierre’s cock blocking your airway as you gagged around him messily, trying to be good for him, with his balls nudging against your face with his every shallow thrust. When he pulled out of your mouth again, you gasped almost violently, desperately pulling air into your lungs as your own spit smeared across your cheeks from the head of his cock. It was hard to catch your breath, however, when George was fucking it right back out of you, not slowing down for a second. You could feel tears burning your eyes from how good it felt and your chin tucked down to your chest to watch between your spread legs with an expression of pure screwed up pleasure.

Pierre crouched down by your head that was still hovered over the side of the mattress, whispering right against your ear, “Look at you taking that fucking cock like such a good little slut.”

You only whimpered in reply, not tearing your eyes away from the lewd scene before you. George moved one of his hands from your leg to tangle in the back of your hair instead, keeping your head up just like that so you truly had no choice but to watch as he fucked you. So you held your legs back on your own, pulling them back and open wide with your hands on the backs of your knees.

“That’s it,” Pierre praised against your ear as the intensity from George had your bed creaking faintly underneath you, and he reached down to grope your breasts in his hands at the same time, “spread those fucking legs for him. Letting him fuck your pussy like you’re some stupid toy…having us take turns using you. Can’t get enough dick, can you, cherié?”

All you could whine out was a blubbery “no” in reply as your eyes raised to George’s face again.

“Fuck.” he groaned tightly at the sight of your expression, “Look at that sweet face.”

“George...” you whimpered up at him.

“Fuck, yeah, gorgeous.” he said through his teeth, starting to speed up his thrusts a bit more as he stared right into your eyes, head still cradeled in his hand as he cooed down to you, “That’s my girl.”

Pierre’s hands on your breasts pinched at your nipples as his lips found your neck, trailing slow open mouthed kisses across your warm skin in time with his rough touch. Then he was sliding his hands farther down your body and past the curve of your hips and between your spread thighs and his right hand dipped down to let his fingertips graze over your clit. The soft squeak that slipped from your throat had him smiling against your neck and he nipped at your earlobe before letting his fingers start to rub precise circles over your swollen clit, matching the pace of George’s thrusts almost perfectly.

“Oh my God.” you moaned out, trying to toss your head back habitually but George’s grasp at the back of your neck prevented you. Instead, your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you were forced to watch as you held your legs open wide by your own free will, tears brimming with pleasurable tears as the whimpery moans tumbled helplessly from your mouth and you could barely get out a trembling, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Should we keep going?” Pierre taunted against your ear.

“Yes!” you answered hurriedly, “Yes, please keep going. Please don’t fucking stop!”

“Yeah? Think you deserve that?” Pierre’s fingers rubbed faster at your clit, his other hand pinching one of your nipples again, and then he was looking up at George and directing to him, “Think she deserves to cum again?”

You tried to plead with him with your eyes but before you could even give a proper attempt, he was pulling right out of you. At almost the same time, Pierre took his fingers away, leaving you with a smack to your cheek as he stood up again. You writhed in frustration against your bed, George’s sudden distance allowing your head to fall off the edge of the mattress as you cried out pathetically to the ceiling and your hands pressed between your legs.

As if ignorant to your whining, the two men shifted their positions, casually speaking their game plan into existence starting with George’s question, “Wanna turn her over?”

“Yeah.” Pierre knelt up on the bed too and he took that time to roll on a condom.

You didn’t even need to move on your own as George maneuvered you how they wanted you with near ease, grabbing your arm and yanking you over onto your stomach. He then grabbed your hips and guided your ass up, forcing you to be bent at the waist and he leaned down to spread your cheeks and get a quick taste of you himself. You groaned into the sheets and pushed back against his mouth, your eyes fluttering shut, but no sooner did he start was he pulling away and giving your ass a smack to let Pierre take over.

“Tastes good, huh?” Pierre chuckled.

George licked away his cocky grin, “Fuck yeah.”

“Maybe we should turn her that way?” Pierre gestured to the headboard.

“I was gonna stand in front of her.” George countered casually.

“Oh, yeah, okay, that works.” Pierre agreed as he shuffled up behind you on his knees.

“You’re teaming up on me. This isn’t fair.” you said lightheartedly, trying to look back at them over your shoulder.

“Isn’t that exactly what you wanted?” George argued lightly as he got off the bed and walked around to stand in front of you.

You had no rebuttal since he was entirely correct so you just smothered your smile into the crook of your arm as he took off the condom, letting it drop to the floor to be dealt with later so his entirely natural dick could press up against your lips. From behind you at the same time, Pierre was slipping the protected head of his cock between your sopping pussy and he nudged it teasingly against you a few times before finally guiding himself inside you.

Your fingers grasped onto the edge of the mattress at the pressure that he pushed across your hips, stretching you around his cock, and his hands on your hips guided you back into him until your ass pressed against his pelvis. With your trembling moan, George took that opportunity to angle his dick against your mouth and you naturally let your jaw fall slack to welcome him in against your tongue. Pierre’s lazy testing thrusts had you moaning around George greedily and your eyes fluttered shut contently, entirely entrusting of the both of them.

Pierre’s hands kneaded the flesh of your hips and he groaned warmly as he pulled you back on him more until there was absolutely no space between you, sheathing himself completely inside you. Your body burned for more attention, desperate for more of anything, and you couldn’t help but instinctively start to fuck yourself back onto Pierre’s cock yourself, ultimately making you start to suck George off at the same pace. George’s fingers trailed through your hair over the crown of your head, pushing your bangs out of your face politely so you could have free reign of his cock in your mouth - and so he could get a better view of it. With your tangled hair draped over one shoulder, your mouth could take to him freely in back and forth strokes made by the way you pushed your body back on Pierre at a steady pace.

With a sharp slap to your ass, Pierre announced matter-of-factly, “Fucking slut.”

You could barely offer a sweet moan in reply before he was grabbing your hips again and starting to fuck you himself. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the mattress, trying to keep your mouth tending to George but the pleasure that tore through you had you freezing up. So he took it upon himself to thrust into your mouth in return, taking to the other half of your body in shallow possessive strokes. You gagged around him messily, drooling down your chin and onto the bedsheets, your eyes blurring tears from the combination of the both of them.

The slick sound of Pierre’s skin clapping with yours filled your modest bedroom and as he fucked you harder, it only grew louder and more intense. You couldn’t help but naturally try to move away from the strength of it, turning your head away from George to hide your face in the sheets with a strained whimper, your body writhing against the mattress.

But Pierre stopped just long enough to yank you back into place, ordering firmly with another spank, “Keep your ass up.”

“Sorry-” your words were cut off as he grabbed a fistfull of your hair and yanked your head up, forcing you to gasp out the rest, “sir.”

With your hair in his one handed grip, he was in complete control of you, keeping you at his mercy as he pounded into you from behind. His free hand came down hard against your ass, leaving a blushing red handprint on your flesh that he made darker with another slap. You swore you were drooling from it, eyes glossy with pleasure, trying to focus on George’s shimmering caramel skin right in front of your face.

George’s fingers trailed over your lips and he slipped two into your mouth for you to suck on, speaking to the room with a tone full of hushed surprised realization, “My God, I love watching you get fucked.”

You moaned around his fingers, teary eyes raising to look up at his face as Pierre’s grip on your hair kept your head back. George pulled his hand back, his fingers glistening in your spit, and he started to stroke his cock in purposeful strokes, staring right back into your eyes. You couldn’t help the way your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you stared back at him, your expression wavering with each aggressive thrust from the man behind you. Pierre’s hand coming down hard against your ass again had you flinching.

“Ah- Fuck, Pierre!” you blurted out.

“Yeah?” he slowed just long enough to give your hair a yank again, “Don’t just lay there. Suck his dick.”

George took over for him with his hand in your hair and he shuffled himself a bit closer to the edge of your bed to guide your mouth back down on him. Once he was nestled back in your mouth, Pierre was picking up the pace again to find a more sustainable but just as strong intensity that had your eyebrows furrowing. Brushing your hair over one of your shoulders before taking it in his fist in a makeshift ponytail, George was staring down at you with the very definition of lust across his face.

“Good girl.” he praised richly.

With your elbow resting on the mattress, you reached your hand up to wrap around the base of his cock and help to guide your movements, moaning around him warmly even as he started to thrust into your mouth a little more. You could hardly see behind the tears that pricked your eyes thanks to the both of them completely taking you over, but you let the rivers of pleasure carve their way down your cheeks without a single complaint.

As George nudged against the back of your throat, Pierre let out a stiff groan from behind you, squeezing your hips as he spoke aloud, “I can tell when she gags on your dick because she tries to push me out.”

You whimpered, half embarrassed at how they were always so aware of your every slight reaction, but you couldn’t focus on much else with each of them stuffing you full from either end. They took up all of your senses, all of your thoughts, all of your desires, until you were a nearly incomprehensible, hazy, drooling mess between them. You were so muddled in pleasure, in fact, that you weren’t even aware they had spoken their next move out loud until they were pulling out of you at the same time and you were left with aching emptiness.

“No-” you barely whimpered out, glancing over your shoulder as Pierre pulled off the condom and then shifted his position on your bed.

George then joined you too, being tossed another condom from Pierre in the process, and then he was nudging your hip, “Stay just like this but face the top of the bed there, gorgeous.”

On quivering limbs, you shifted yourself ninety-degrees to face towards the headboard on hands and knees and, ultimately, where Pierre was situated. He was resting on his knees in front of you, his glistening dick in hand, and you couldn’t help but press a fleeting kiss to the tip. He smirked down at you and tucked your hair behind your ear while you kept yourself bent at the waist for George who was rolling on the fresh condom behind you.

“That’s it.” George breathed, shuffling up closer behind you to angle the protected head of his cock between your legs, “So willing to just let us fuck you in every position we want, huh?”

You wiggled back on him with a sweet, “Mhm.”

“Yeah,” he praised lowly as he pushed inside you steadily with a soft groan, “Good fucking girl.”

“Oh my God.” you moaned shakily, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he started to thrust into with ease, “Fuck, you’re so fucking big.”

George’s hand came down in a sharp spank against your ass before he was grabbing a handful of your flesh and tugging you back into his every consistent stroke, blessing your bedroom with the sound of his slick skin colliding with yours. With your forearms on either side of Pierre, his dick was right in your face, and you smothered your involuntary whimpers by wrapping your lips around it and sinking your mouth right down. Pierre’s fingers tangled in your hair and from his position on his knees in front of you, staring down at you as your mouth worked on him messily and you drooled down your chin. You shifted in front of him to reach him a little better with the opportunity to wrap your hand around the base of his lengthy cock.

But then George’s hands slid from your hips to the dip of your waist and he pressed the heels of his palms into the small of your back, telling you firmly, “Arch your back.”

You forced yourself deeper for him, bent in half right down against the mattress until your cheek was caressed by the wrinkled duvet. Your fingers clutched the fabric in white-knuckled grips, eyes fluttering as your chest moaned beautiful symphonies from his precise strokes and the way he hit in all the right spots that you swore you were seeing stars. Pierre’s hand pet your hair out of your flushed face before giving your cheek a faint smack, watching your hazy expression as you were fucked by another man.

“George-” you whimpered shakily, trying to look over your shoulder at him.

Without hesitating, George pointed towards the direction of your bedside table and directed to Pierre, “Pass me that?”

You could hardly get your eyes to focus on anything of sustenance to know what he was requesting, too drunk on his dick to think of much else. But as Pierre shifted from in front of you to reach towards the cluttered surface of your bedside table, he clarified, “The camera?”

“Yeah.”

“George-” you pleaded, nearly melting into your mattress.

As he situated the camera in his hands behind you - while still keeping his precise thrusts going - Pierre maneuvered himself in front of you so he was sitting properly on your bed and resting back against the pillows and headboard, leaving his legs parted on either side of you so you could nestle right between them. Your arms naturally went over his thighs and his dick was right in your face again but you let it rest against your cheek for a moment as you lingered in that haze of pleasure.

“Look at me a sec, sugar.” George requested.

Pierre helped to pull your hair over one shoulder as you looked back towards George, your natural expression being picture-perfect and the sound of the shutter and a burst of the flash in the dimly lit bedroom.

“Beautiful.” George complimented as the polaroid printed from the base of the camera and he gave it a little shake before tossing it aimlessly onto the bed. Still nestled inside you all the way, he gave you a few more haphazard thrusts before lifting the camera up again to peer through the viewfinder, angling it down to get that perfect shot of your body bent over before him. He kept you there with a warm, “Just like that.”

Another click of the shutter and burst of flash and a second polaroid picture was dropped onto the bed beside you to develop. You blinked away the colourful shapes that floated in front of your eyes thanks to the interruption of that sudden bright light, turning your head back to face Pierre’s lap and his fingers scratched through the roots of your hair gently, silently guiding your mouth towards his achingly hardly cock.

“One more,” George encouraged, watching through the camera lens, “Put his dick in your mouth.”

You reached a hand over to wrap around the base of Pierre’s cock and you guided it towards your outstretched tongue, pausing there a moment for the photo opportunity until the flash went off again, encapsulating the both of them on either side of you in the most erotic way in a polaroid picture.

“Good girl.” George praised.

His praise in that sweet accent of his had you melting into a cheeky smile, sliding your arms farther across the bed on either side of Pierre’s lap so your face was nestled right in his lap and your mouth took as much of his cock as you could. You moaned happily around him, warm from praise and affection, truly not wanting to be anywhere else at that moment.

“Our own little centrefold.” Pierre tisked, his voice low and deep with lust, watching you suck lazily on him as his fingers trailed through your hair. “Little fucking exhibitionist slut.”

“Mhm.” George tossed your camera onto the bed alongside the polaroids to give you his full attention again and the warmth of his large rough hands caressing your hips and your ass made you groan around Pierre’s cock. Then, with another spank, George was picking up the pace again, fucking you selfishly into your bed and, ultimately, right into Pierre’s lap as he spoke down to you in a taunting coo, “Poor thing can’t seem to ever be satisfied.”

You pulled off Pierre’s dick with a pitchy whine and a thick string of spit still connecting you, pushing yourself up onto your hands instead for a new angle as you fucked yourself back into George’s motions. Pierre took over with his hand himself, keeping his gaze focused on your euphoric expression as you were taken by another man right in front of him.

“That’s it.” he exhaled with a lick and a bite to his plush lips, “Merde, you take it so fucking well.”

Your palms were still pressed flat to the bed on either side of his lap so you were basically face to face, although your attention was more so towards the man behind you at that moment. Face screwed up in pleasure and tears brimming in your eyes, you were a moaning, whimpering mess, and your sounds were only countered by the slick clap of his skin with yours and the creak of your bed beneath you.

“Fuck, George!” you cried out shakily, “Right there, right there! Fuck!”

“Yeah, take that dick, baby.” Pierre praised through his teeth, using his free hand that wasn’t pumping his cock to squeeze your cheeks between his thumb and fingers.

One look into Pierre’s pretty blue eyes and all that pleasure was building up inside you faster and faster, acting as the catalyst to bring you right to the edge by just a glance. He kept you focused on him like that, forcing you to stare into his eyes, helped only more so by George’s hand yanking at your hair to keep your head right up.

“You gonna cum for us again?” George taunted from behind you as he kept his strong pace going.

“Yes, sir.” you squeaked out. “Please let me cum.”

“Such a good girl with good fucking manners.” Pierre cooed as he took his hand from your face just long enough to give your cheek a few smacks. “Keep making these pretty fucking sounds of yours.”

“Oh, please.” you whimpered loudly, melting into a blubbering mess of moans and whines that were incomprehensible. The slick erotic clap of skin on skin fought with the volume of your noises, making a lewd symphony in your dimly lit bedroom with your sweaty body captured between the two men who had you in the palms of their hands. They weren’t quiet either; the sounds of their panted breaths and handsome groans going right between your quivering legs.

Pierre’s fingers squished your cheeks snugly to keep your glossy eyes on his while George’s fist in your hair kept your head up and your body in just the right position for him. He was giving you every last inch in quick succession, absolutely having his way with you, and the tears that streaked down your cheeks were born from nothing but pure overwhelming pleasure. His name fell from your spitty lips like second nature since your brain could hardly make sense of any proper sentences, letting a stumbling chant of his name fill the hot sticky air between you.

And as your euphoria rose to its peak, you squeaking out a warning, “I’m cumming-”

George gave you a hard spank as you fell into waves of pleasure under his control, your body tensing on your quivering arms, and you fell perfectly silent for a moment, gaping dumbly without tearing your eyes away from Pierre’s firm gaze.

“Good fucking girl.” Pierre praised you strongly directly to your face as his right hand kept stroking his cock, “That’s my good little slut; cum all over his fucking dick.”

You gasped out of it, heaving for air as your limbs trembled, and you finally tore your attention away from Pierre so you could look back towards George and reach a hand back to grasp his thigh and slow him down.

“O-Oh my God.” you whimpered, wincing as he pulled out of you and left you with another little smack to your ass.

“Look at you shaking.” George chuckled warmly, “I didn’t even do much.”

“Mm,” you pushed yourself away from Pierre so you were sitting back on your knees in the middle of your messy bed, thighs visibly vibrating, “you know just what I like.”

George’s hand wrapped around your throat and he pulled your head back just enough to get his lips on yours. You shared a few breathless tongue-led kisses before he was breaking away to retrieve your polaroid camera from across the bed before it could risk being broken. Pierre took that opportunity to adjust himself in front of you to keep himself leaning back comfortably against the headboard and pillows and he grabbed your wrist to guide you towards him.

“C’mere. I want a turn.” he demanded.

You tucked your hair behind your ears, unable to lick away your giddy grin as you shuffled closer to him on your knees and straddled his lap carefully. Your skin was glistening in sweat, leaving you in a faint glimmer that his hands caressed over longingly as he pulled you into his arms. Dipping down to kiss his plush lips, you let him adjust you blindly on his lap until you could feel the head of his cock against your warm swollen pussy, taunting you with the risk of feeling him raw.

“Here.” George’s voice tore you away from Pierre’s lips and you watched as he tossed him another condom from your half-empty box, sharing a teasing, “These are gonna be gone by the end of the night at this rate.”

Pierre didn’t seem bothered by the reminder of contraception and he caught it with an amused smirk to his counterpart and then ripped it open with his teeth, all while keeping one hand around your back to hold you close. Your fingers scratched through the back of his brunette waves, impatiently waiting for him to roll it on himself - and keeping your sudden lust-fueled desire to just skip the hassle of condoms all together to yourself. His tongue dragged across one of your nipples as his arm around your waist guided you closer, mingling your sweaty skin with his spit as he slid the protected head of his cock between your lips and nudged it against your sensitive clit.

Your hips jumped naturally at his teasing touches and you felt him smile against your breast before he was easing you down onto his dick. Your mouth fell open habitually, head tilting back just a little as the breath caught in your chest for a moment, and you sank down on him easily after plenty of warm-up. Pierre groaned lowly, his lips wrapping around your other nipple to suck on, and his large hands groped your ass and pulled your hips right up against his so you were flush together.

After a brief second, you tucked your hair over your shoulder and let your hands rest on his chest as he broke away from your breasts to look up at your face properly. Keeping that unwavering eye contact, you started to rise up and then sink back down on him in slow curling motions that had his eyebrows furrowing slightly, his lips parting in the sweetest expression. And the sound was unbelievable, that lewd wet squelch of your pussy taking him all in, wrapping around him so snugly.

“Mm, my God, you’re so fucking creamy.” Pierre chuckled lowly, licking away his grin, “I can feel it through the condom.”

“You’re welcome.” George piped up from the foot of the bed, taking his second to just watch.

“It was a joint effort.” Pierre retorted lightheartedly, punctuating his fact with a spank to your rosy flesh. You shared in his smile and leaned down for a kiss, licking your way into his mouth to earn a groan from his chest. His hands on your ass helped to guide your lazy motions, settling you into a steady pace to start to ride him properly on your quivering thighs.

After a few seconds, you pulled away from his lips to meet his gaze with your hands on his shoulders and your bottom lip between your teeth. It wasn’t the first time you found yourself on top of him like that and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, taking what you wanted from him in lazy bounces with your tangled hair falling messily around your head like a voluminous halo. The sight of him licking his lips as he stared at you had your insides in a whirl, head falling backwards with a soft groan of pleasure to the ceiling, in a trance from the steady clap, clap, clap of your ass meeting his thighs in that dizzying rhythm.

“That’s it.” Pierre praised you richly, “That’s my girl.”

The mattress dipped slightly as George joined you on the bed again and he moved closer to smack his hand down against your ass. He himself was all too used to watching you like that from below so he took that opportunity to soak up the new angle, big blue eyes lingering on every inch of your glistening body. You couldn’t see him with how you were facing towards the top of the bed but you could feel him behind you, watching, his hand that wasn’t stroking his cock sliding down your spine.

With a gentle push against your lower back, he firmly requested, “Show me.”

You knew what he wanted as you bent forward at the waist and Pierre’s hands helped to drape your hair over one shoulder so he didn’t get a face full of it as you leaned over top of him. You rested on your forearms on either side of his head, trying to glance back over your shoulder towards the other man behind you. Pierre caressed your body with his large hands, sliding down to your hips and over the curve of your ass before he was grabbing two snug handfuls of your flesh and pulling them apart to really show off how you were nestled right down on him. Despite the shift in position, you kept pushing back on his dick in lazy motions, whining softly at the pressure that the length of him pushed deep inside you.

George exhaled warmly from his front row seat, watching how you were wrapped around Pierre’s cock so tightly with your every motion, speaking lowly from behind you, “You’re so stretched out.”

“Isn’t she?” Pierre took his hand back to give your ass a smack before he was sliding his palms up to your waist and gave your curves a squeeze as he flexed his hips up into you, “Such a perfect fucking pussy for us. Such a perfect fucking girl.”

Your fingers grasped onto the sheets on either side of him with a groan from your chest, stalling your motions to let him take over for you. You stared down at him from your rightful spot on top of him, lip between your teeth, keeping your eyes locked on his.

“Pretty little slut just wants to be used.” he cooed, gently nudging up into you in precise shallow thrusts and watching how your expression faltered.

“Oh my God, Pierre-“ you whimpered softly and you pushed yourself up onto your hands on either side of his head. At that new position you could arch your back just a little more to help him find just the right angle inside you. Your mouth dropped open with a hearty moan as your grip tightened on the pillow over straight arms.

Pierre pushed himself a little harder, thrusting up into you with a tight grunt of his own, keeping a strong pace just deep enough to kiss your g-spot head on every time. His hands gripped your hips tighter, unbothered by how George shifted across the bed and yanked open your bedside table again. You, especially, were ignorant to his move as you were so easily put back into that trance of pleasure by the control of his just as handsome counterpart.

Your soft whimpers only spurred Pierre on and you grew louder by the second, filling your bedroom at the late hour with your euphoric gasps and squeals, chanting to the four walls and the man below you, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, right there!”

“Yeah?” Pierre spoke up to you through his teeth, “Does that feel good, baby? Feeling something so big in your tiny little pussy?”

“Fuck-“ you choked out, forcing your head to turn away as his vulgar words made his eye contact almost too overwhelming.

Feeling George coming up behind you was expected and Pierre slowed for a moment to make sure you were all situated. You weren’t sure of George’s intentions at first until his lube streaked hand was smearing over your asshole and down to where Pierre was nestled inside you and back up again.

“I think our girl has been so fucking good for us that we should give her what she wanted now.” George suggested.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” Pierre agreed, keeping his hands on your waist to hold you in place with you leaning over top of him on your hands still.

You had tried anal with each of them only a handful of times total before but never in a circumstance like this so you couldn’t help the way your grip tightened on the sheets in uncertain anticipation. George’s full lips pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder and then another to your neck as he moved closer to angle the protected head of his cock between your full cheeks, right next to where Pierre was already nestled inside you.

“You still want this?” George asked against your sweaty skin.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, “so badly.”

“Use your words.” he coaxed as he nudged the head of his dick against your asshole.

So you repeated the words they made you say out loud in the taxi, pleading to them both with an angelic whisper, “I want you both inside me.”

“Good girl.” George praised, sliding his left hand up your back to keep you bent over top of Pierre while his other hand carefully guided his dick to press a little harder against your tight rim of muscle.

“Slow, slow, slow.” you hurried out in a half nervous panic.

“Shh, I know.” he cooed easily as he started to push inside you the slightest amount, “I got you.”

“Look at me.” Pierre spoke from below you, urging your eyes to lock on his again, “There you are.”

He reached a hand up to set on the back of your neck to bring your forehead down to his, keeping you close with your eye contact unbreaking, giving you that slight distraction as George pushed inside you slowly.

“You’re such a good fucking girl.” he spoke right to your face in a hushed tone, his voice laced with warm heavenly lust as you stared into his comforting blue eyes, “Our perfect fucking cockslut so willing to take both of us at the same time.”

“Mhm.” you whimpered out, trying to breathe through the aching stretch that radiated over your hips and deep inside you.

“Gonna feel so fucking good. We’re gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

George gave your hips a gentle squeeze as he held you in place, “This okay?”

“Yeah.” you squeaked out.

“Can you take more?”

“Gimme it all.” you answered easily.

The two men chuckled warmly at your quick reply and George kept pushing into you, watching how your incredibly tight body took him in so snugly. His own warm groan was igniting, his large hand kneading the flesh of your hips as he eased deeper into you.

“There you go, that’s our girl.” Pierre cooed up at you, scratching his fingers along your hairline at the nape of your neck.

George added, “Just want every last inch so you’re completely fucking stuffed with dick.”

“I love it.” you blurted out shakily in reply.

“Yeah?” Pierre licked away his cocky smile as he slid his hand from the back of your neck to wrap his fingers around your throat instead, “Fucking slut.”

Then, he gently pushed you away from him with that hand around your neck and eased you up into more of a sitting position on top of him but neither of you broke your intense eye contact. The slight shift had the both of them pushing against all the right spots inside you and your mouth fell open faintly with a soft moan, eyebrows furrowing, shifting ever so slightly in place to feel the heat of that strong pressure that burned within you. With your palms anchored on Pierre’s bare chest, you took a second to familiarize yourself with the newfound position and George’s tender hand draped your frazzled hair over one shoulder.

“How’s that feel?” George asked from behind you, his warm breath fanning across your neck.

“Mm,” you leaned back into him slightly and his lips pressed a slow open mouthed kiss to your shoulder as you kept your attention on the warm snug fullness from the both of them, “so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” George’s hand slid around your waist to dip down and gently caress your clit, urging your body to shutter under his ghostly touch.

“This what you wanted?” Pierre taunted, tightening his hand around your throat.

“Fuck yeah.” you exhaled, already starting to try and move on the both of them despite the scrunch of your nose at the intense stretch that radiated across your hips and deep inside you. Slowly and steadily, the initial discomfort eased into pure pleasure and as the seconds passed, your cautious movements could shift into needier rocks of your hips back onto the both of them with your nails pressing into Pierre’s pecs beneath you, scratching through the faint hair.

“Good girl.” they both said at the same time. Despite their simultaneous praise, their attention was too focused on you to really notice or care, falling into the pleasurable sensations themselves of not only getting the privilege to feel you, but the added snugness that came with the second individual nestled inside you alongside themselves.

George started to meet your motions on his own too, giving you gentle thrusts to ease you open a little more, keeping his slender fingers petting your clit in lazy circles to keep you distracted from any possible soreness. His lips were nearly magnetized to your neck and shoulder and his warm breath and soft groans of his own fanned across your skin and rose shivers in his wake, the sensations only made more intense by the way Pierre’s hand gripped the sides of your neck. You couldn’t help the pleading whine that fell from your lips as you rode both of them at the same time, taking your hands from Pierre’s chest to move to your own and you squeezed and pinched your breasts in your palms just to add yet another point of contact to your overwhelmed body.

Pierre’s hand moved from your neck just long enough to give your cheek a sharp slap and your gasp took even you by surprise, only making him hit you again while his other hand squeezed your doughy hip as if to tug you back and forth on his lap with more intensity. The two of them sounded heavenly with their harmonious moans and panted breaths of their own, the two bringing music to your ears as you made them feel as good as they did to you. The world was hazy as you surrounded yourself with their pleasure, encouraging them with a messy tumble of whimpers from your swollen parted lips into the warm air of your bedroom.

Once Pierre grabbed hold of your waist and started to nudge his hips up into you again, your hands dropped down to his chest to ground yourself, gasping out a pleading chant of, “Please, please, please, please-”

George grabbed a snug handful of your hair, mocking you warmly, “Please, please, please, please, what?”

Pierre was right on his side with a taunting, “Want us to fuck you harder?”

You nodded quickly, your messy curls falling over your face, “Uh huh.”

“Say it.” Pierre demanded without tearing his eyes away from your flushed face.

George backed him up with ease, insisting to you firmly, “Say it. Use your fucking words and tell us what you want.”

You whimpered in reply, trying to arrange words in your head first to try and piece together a logical sentence before you stumbled out some slurred plea of, “Please fuck me harder. Please gimme more.”

“That’s my good girl.” Pierre praised up at you through his teeth, his hands tightening on your waist as he shoved up into you a little more, forcing a gasp from your chest.

George took his hand from your hair to reach down to grab a handful of your ass and he pried at your flesh to open you up a little more without faltering his thrusts, permitting himself deeper as he gave you harder longer strokes that halted your air in your lungs for a moment. With his other hand, he smacked his palm down hard against your other cheek which triggered you to inhale sharply and your nails dug down into Pierre’s chest.

“Yes!” you squealed, “Yes, yes - fuck!”

With his feet anchored on the bed, Pierre kept his shallow thrusts up into you and shifted his hands so one was resting around your back and the other was pressing the heel of his palm into your lower stomach. The warm, tingling pressure it pushed through your insides literally had your eyes rolling and your toes curling and the lewd sounds that tumbled from your lips were completely involuntary.

George suddenly grasped your arms and yanked them back, taking your hands from Pierre’s chest so he could straighten you up a little more and securely hold you in place. You never complained when they moved you however they wanted - well, most times - and this was no different since you had waited so long to be able to experience the both of them at the same time. You would gladly submit to either.

With George’s tight grip on your biceps to secure your arms back, keeping you right up straight against his chest, and Pierre’s palm still pressing into your abdomen, you swore you were getting dizzy with it all. In fact, Pierre was witness to the glossiness of your expression and the withering expression that smeared across your face despite the sweetest sounds that you made for them.

“Holy shit.” Pierre groaned through his firm focus to keep thrusting up into you.

“You take it so fucking well.” George spoke lowly against your ear through his panted breaths, shooting shivers down your spine by the way his accent was thick with lust. His caramel skin pressed stickily to yours, entangled limbs of sweat and heat, his fingertips pressing indentations into your rouged flesh as his hips collided with your ass over and over again. It was a dreamy haze and you nearly felt out-of-body.

Words had abandoned you in exchange for a mumbling, gasping, mess of whimpers and moans as the two men had their way with you. George shifted behind you slightly to get one foot flat on the bed for a better angle, letting your arms go so he could grab your hips again, and his thrusts were strong and deep and at such a pace that left you nearly drooling. With your arms free, you fell forward onto your hands again, pressing your palms flat onto the mattress on either side of Pierre’s head, arching your back a little more to keep the both of them hitting just the right spots.

Pierre’s mouth wrapped around one of your nipples as you leaned over him and he toyed with it between tongue and teeth, moaning against your breast from beneath you. He grabbed your ass in two large handfuls to keep you spread for the both of them and you ended up slumping from hands to elbows on top of him. As the two of them worked to build that coiling pleasure within you, your pitchy moans were melting right into Pierre’s neck as you wrapped your arms around his head in desperate need to cling onto something.

“That’s it, cherié.” Pierre cooed against your ear, smacking his hand down hard against your ass, “Give it up for us.”

You sunk your teeth down into his toned shoulder, smothering you uncontrollable noises as they both fucked you from either side, keeping you rightfully in the middle of them. George’s hands pressed into the small of your back to keep you ached just enough to keep them in all the right places and you were nearly sobbing into Pierre’s neck.

“You gonna cum for us, gorgeous?” George taunted breathily.

“Yes, sir.” you replied squeakily, knowing if you didn’t use your words they would make you waste more time by trying again. Instead, you force your nonsensical brain to try and piece together as many pleas as you could, mumbling your words into Pierre’s neck, “I’m gonna cum so fucking hard for you. Please, please, please don’t stop!”

“Is our good fucking girl gonna cum on both of us?” Pierre egged you on against your ear, his voice strained slightly as he kept the effort up to keep thrusting up into you.

“Yeah, she is.” George continued, keeping a stone grip on your hips so he was nearly yanking you back into his thrusts, “Come on, baby. Come on.”

Arms wrapped entirely around Pierre’s head, you were a squealing mess against his neck with your teeth leaving indentations in his skin and a slick shimmer of your spit behind, rushing out a pitchy chant as you grew closer and closer exponentially, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-”

“Fils de pute, you’re getting so tight-” Pierre said through his teeth, not slowing down for a second, “Let it out for us. Come on.”

As it reached that impossible precipice, your entire body tensed right up and you flew one hand out to slam flat against your headboard with a silent gape into Pierre’s neck. Your body shuddered violently between them, letting the intense waves of pleasure overtake you until your vision went spotted for a few seconds and the ringing in your ears had the world falling away. They had you quite literally vibrating with euphoria and as your senses came back, you gasped through your orgasm with a quivering moan that nearly echoed between your bedroom walls.

“Good girl!” George praised loudly from behind you, still keeping his pace going despite the way your legs were quivering.

“Putain.” Pierre groaned sharply and pulled his hands back from your ass to push at your hips.

You barely had a second to get your senses back before George was following Pierre’s lead and pulling out so they could flip you right over onto your back against your bed. Panting and shuttering, the moans that fell from your lips were warm and full of bliss and as you blinked yourself back into reality, you watched them both come up on either side of you on their knees. Condoms off and their dicks in your face, you habitually opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, blindly grasping onto their thighs on either side of your head as they finished themselves off too.

“Look at you.” Pierre groaned behind the slick sound of his hand pumping his cock, “So fucking ready for it.”

“Want our cum all over your fucking face?” George taunted, his motions mirroring Pierre’s on your other side. “Our gorgeous fucking cumslut.”

You nodded dumbly, scrunching your eyes shut in anticipation, clenching your trembling thighs together from the aftershocks of your intense orgasm only made worse by the sight of both of them directly above you like that. Mere moments later, Pierre was coming first by only a second or two, the first thick spurt landing right across your tongue as he moaned prettily through your bedroom. George matched his timing almost perfectly, sharing in the privilege of streaking your face in thick shots of white, a few reaching up to your messy hair and almost getting in your eye.

There was so much of it from the both of them combined that you were almost covered in it but that fact just brought a grin to your face, keeping your eyes closed as you blindly wrapped your hands around their dicks and guided them into your mouth one at a time to lick clean. One of them had his hand in your hair, both of them moaning and panting handsomely, praising you honestly, touching you all they could as you tended to them generously. The other smeared his hand through the mess across your face and then shoved his fingers in your open mouth to make more of a mess of both cum and spit and then slapped his hand down hard against your cheek.

“Holy fuck.” you giggled.

“Stay there.” Pierre said before shifting slightly from his spot beside you.

You couldn’t open your eyes given the amount of cum that was streaked across your face and over your closed eyes but you trusted them. The click of your camera shutter gave his idea away and you held your hands in front of your face with a bashful laugh.

“Pierre.” you scolded lightheartedly.

“What? You look incredible.” he protested.

“Really, really sexy.” George agreed before adding, “Was this all that you wanted?”

“Yeah.” you smiled, licking your lips from the salty substance that they claimed you in.

George's gentle hand then touched your face, a start comparison to the roughness from the rest of the evening, and he started to wipe your face with a tissue, “Here you go.”

“What a gentleman.” you giggled, although you took the tissue from him to do it yourself.

Pierre set the camera and developing polaroid on your bedside table before slumping back against your headboard with a heavy sigh, draping his arm above his head as he watched you clean yourself up a little. You tossed the soiled tissue in the general direction of your trash can, too in need of a breather at that moment to care if it made it in on the first try. Pierre then reached back over to your bedside table and opened the drawer to pull out the box of cigarettes that was kept inside just for moments of drop-off ecstasy like this. He set one between his lips and then grabbed your lighter to light up before tossing the box and lighter towards George who was resting beside you with an expectant outstretched hand.

As you were laid diagonally across your bed, you let Pierre pull your feet across his lap as he rested back against the pillows and headboard with his cigarette and he gave your calves a tender squeeze, sending you a little wink. George first set a cigarette between your lips for you and as you framed it between middle and forefinger, he lit it for you too. You tucked a hand behind your head as you took your first drag and let the nicotine relax your buzzing pleasure sensors, blowing out the first puff towards the ceiling.

Silence lingered for a moment as the three of you came down from the euphoria of the night, each sharing in the guilty pleasures of a cigarette after sex and the lingering sensation of satisfaction that it brought. Pierre’s hand caressed your shin absentmindedly and George was resting back on his arm beside you, lost in your profile through the haze of smoke that surrounded you.

“Well,” you broke the silence first, pursing your lips to blow another stream of smoke towards the ceiling with the cigarette balanced between your fingers, “that was the most incredible thing that I’ve ever done.”

Pierre chuckled warmly from the opposite side of the bed, “That was the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

George just let a faint smirk prick at his lips as he took another drag of his cigarette. With the dart between his slender fingers, he leaned down towards you to kiss your cheek and then your temple and then you turned your face to welcome a quick kiss to your lips.

“Feeling okay?” he asked.

“Mhm.” you pushed yourself up into a sitting position with your cigarette balanced between your lips and you reached a hand down to slide your fingers between your legs, smearing through the slick wetness that you were covered in right down to your thighs and over your aching muscles.

“Sore?” Pierre asked.

“Yeah.” you smiled over at him and plucked your cigarette from between your lips as you rested back on your other hand. “In a good way though.”

His eyes flicked across your naked body as he pulled another drag from his cigarette before warning you lightly, “If you don’t close your legs I might end up going down on you right now.”

You shut your legs with a soft giggle, knowing you were way too sensitive to even risk another faint touch from either of them. George’s lips met your neck again, kissing down over your shoulder, and as the shivers he left tore down your spine, you curled away from him with a giggle and flopped into Pierre’s side instead.

“So fucking sensitive, aren’t you?” George chuckled.

“You two did a number on me.” you protested matter-of-factly as Pierre’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and he pulled you into him with a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

George leaned over you two with one last puff of his cigarette before he was stamping it out on the saucer on your bedside table and left it there so he could have both hands free to tend to your feet in tender rubs. You smiled at him through your own cigarette, lifting your right foot up to help him get a better grip and he pressed his thumbs into the sole of your foot before pushing them up and outwards firmly. Your soft hum of appreciation was taken by Pierre’s lips on your cheek and he peppered a few chasté kisses across your rouged face as you stayed tucked up under his arm. The three of you were all still completely naked but after the escapades of the night, it was nothing you hadn’t all seen before and your attention was more focused on smoking and relaxing than anything else of salacious sustenance.

Pierre put out his cigarette on the small saucer beside your bed too before he was looking back over to you and gently turning your head by a finger against your chin so he could kiss you properly. You only shared a few single kisses like that - far too tired out for anything more - and he left one more to your temple as you broke away and settled into his side again with a content sigh. George’s eyes were all on you as he kept massaging your feet generously and soon slid his warm palms up your shins and back down along your calves.

“You’re an angel.” you spoke to him sweetly.

“Anything for my best pal.” he winked.

“Best pal that you just fucked up the ass.” you teased, “You do that with Mansell too?”

George scoffed in disgust at the mention of his much older Williams teammate with a, “Very funny.”

You giggled and gave him a gentle nudge with your foot against his chest. Then, you were passing over your burnt out cigarette to Pierre and he took the hint to stamp it out for you too. You thanked him with a fleeting kiss to his cheek before you were shifting out of his arms and getting up to climb off the bed with an announcement that you were going to the bathroom to clean up, stepping over the multiple discarded and well used condoms that littered the floor.

After a quick pee and sufficient time spent with one foot up on the counter and a damp cloth between your legs, you declared yourself tidied up and you emerged from your small bathroom and took the few short steps back into your bedroom. The two young men were back in their underwear and the condoms that had once scattered the floor along with their wrappers were nowhere to be seen. Your clothes were gathered and folded on your dresser in three neat piles and as Pierre arranged your bedside table and the polaroid pictures, George was distracted at your desk rifling through your few magazines.

You smiled fondly at the scene and returned to your bed on which your once messy sheets were pulled somewhat neater, “Wow, you two are the full package - incredible lovers and you clean my room for me. Wanna move in?”

“What, like some weird polyamorous throuple?” Pierre snorted before tossing the polaroids in your direction as he changed the subject, “Check these out.”

You gathered the four small pictures from the bed and glanced over each of them and how they had captured your night in the filthiest of ways, to be permanently saved as a physical memory. As you did, Pierre excused himself to get you some water and take his turn in the bathroom.

From across your modest room, George spoke up with a magazine in hand and a proud smile, “You have my front cover issue.”

“Of course I do.” you boasted with a grin.

He looked back down at the Motor Racing magazine that housed an on-track shot of his Williams race car in vibrant blue, yellow, and white, donning the crisp number 63 on the front in bold type. The subheading on the cover read George Russell; Williams Rookie Wins in Austria.

Pulling him from his moment of reflection, you looked back down at the polaroids, “These are really fucking hot, Georgie. Come see.”

He set the magazine back down on your desk and strode over to your bed to join you, perching himself on the edge and he leaned in towards the middle to see the collection of tiny photographs spread out in front of you. Licking his lips at the sight that each frame held, he pressed his finger to one of them, “That’s my favourite.”

“Because I’m looking back at you like I’m straight out of fucking Playboy.” you snorted.

“Yeah? So what? I like it when you look at me like that.” he boasted with a shrug.

When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you, only a few short inches away from your face and under his stare you licked away your bashful smile and looked back down to the pictures. But then, you were reaching out a hand to set on George’s arm, looking at him again in realization of what you had forgotten to ask when you first met up that night, “How was Silverstone?”

“It was fine.” George shifted in place to tuck his legs up on the mattress so he could sit more comfortably on your bed beside you, resting a hand behind you so he was still turned to face your direction slightly, “Had high hopes starting on pole today but had a shit start and I ended up retiring with a broken exhaust. Nigel was out too: clutch failure. Prost won.”

“I’m sorry.”

George shrugged, “Ah well. There’s always the next race.”

“You’ll get it. No doubt in my mind.”

You shared small smiles and then he leaned in to kiss your lips once.

“Listen,” he cleared his throat a moment, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

You nodded him on, suddenly feeling a little silly being completely naked in front of him when his tone shifted into something serious sounding.

George set his free hand on your thigh, gently caressing your warm skin with his calloused thumb as he stared right into your eyes as he spoke his peace in a quiet voice, “I know that everything is hectic with my schedule and how I’m always traveling for races but I wanted to clear the air with you before I leave for Germany next week. I was wondering if we could kinda make this exclusive from now on?”

“This?” you questioned dumbly. “Yeah, you and me.” he went on, “You think I have all these girls but I really don’t. I don’t really have time for all that between traveling and training and races and whatnot. Honestly, you’re the only girl I’ve been seeing for a little while now and I don’t want that to stop but…I wanted to see if you were on the same page. I feel like after tonight, now is the right time to bring this up.”

Your mouth moulded into a small ‘o’ as you tried to process what he was saying and think of what you wanted to reply with. What he was pitching was big news and felt heavy on your mind. You were so incredibly into him but was going exclusive what you wanted?

As if sensing your surprise and your hesitation, George gave your knee a reassuring squeeze, “You don’t have to answer right now. Just think about it and let me know, okay?”

You pulled a small smile and nodded. When he leaned in briefly, you accepted his quick kiss, just as Pierre returned, re-dressed, with a full glass of water for you.

“There you are.” he said gently, passing the glass into your hand.

“Thank you.” you replied in a whisper, offering him a brief smile before taking a sip of water to moisten your suddenly incredibly dry mouth.

George gave your thigh another squeeze before he was getting up, excusing himself to the bathroom too. You watched him leave and then let out a breath, worried to make one wrong move and blow up the two entirely fragile relationships you had going on with the both of them. Maybe bringing them into awareness of each other wasn’t the best idea…that realization was starting to settle over your conscience.

“Did you want to get dressed?” Pierre asked you, “You might start getting cold.”

“Yeah, good idea.” you stacked the polaroids up and leaned over to set them and your glass of water on your bedside table but he was already a step ahead of you and brought over your underwear and a shirt for you to put on. You thanked him softly and shifted onto your knees on the bed to quickly dress.

Standing beside you, watching, Pierre took that opportunity of momentary privacy to say his peace too, “So I’ve been thinking…”

Pausing with your head half in your shirt, you felt yourself tense, “Uh huh?”

“What do you think about doing this…you and me thing…exclusively?”

Oh for fucks sake.

You tugged your shirt on all the way and then flopped onto your bum and rested back against the pillows and headboard with a sigh and a furrowed brow.

“Before you say no,” Pierre sat on the side of the bed, fiddling with his hands, “I know I’m no internationally known Formula 1 driver but I think what you and I have is really special. It can’t be something we just…ignore.”

It wasn’t often that Pierre got nervous - he was always so cool and collected and had a smooth wit about him that gave the impression that he knew he was above everyone else without being conceded. Maybe it was a little cute. But you just shook your head in amusement and then set your palms over your face.

“I dunno.” you mumbled into your hands. “Do you need an answer now?”

“No. No, of course not.” he promised, “You have my number. You can let me know whenever. I’m not going anywhere.”

You dropped your hands to your lap with a sigh, “Okay.”

He reached over and set his hand on your two and leaned in for a few quick kisses to your lips and one more to your nose before sitting back again, “Okay.”

“I’m just really tired.” you mumbled, “I don’t trust my brain to make any logical decisions right now.”

“That’s okay.” Pierre gave your hand a squeeze.

“That’s partially your fault anyway.” you whispered.

His smile only widened and he scoffed playfully, “Well, I hope so. My job is not done until you’re nearly bedridden.”

“Okay.” you laughed lightly, “Cocky.”

Pierre just leaned in and pressed his smiling lips to yours, sharing a few quick kisses with you that made your stomach flip-flop. You raised a hand up to slide around the back of his neck and he dipped his face into your neck to kiss up under your ear, making you shiver and raise your shoulder up with a giggle. He nipped at your earlobe and then sat back again to look at you properly, taking a second to brush your frazzled hair out of your face as he stared at you for a moment.

Just then, George was returning to your room in his plaid slacks back on and his fingers working on the buttons of his white collared shirt, announcing a casual, “I should go.”

You knew he should too but part of you sank at his simple statement, possibly not wanting to admit that the night was over. You simply mumbled, “Yeah. It’s late.”

Pierre stood up from the side of your bed just so they could switch places. George leaned down to give you a quick kiss, “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

You nodded.

He kissed your cheek before whispering against the shell of your ear, “Tonight was fucking incredible. You were fucking incredible.”

You pushed your hand against his chest with a tisk, “Get the fuck outta here.”

George took a step back again, finishing buttoning his shirt. From your spot on your bed, you watched as he and Pierre shared casual pleasantries along the lines of ‘nice to meet you’ and ‘have a good rest of your night’ over another handshake. Then, George was gone and you listened for the sound of your apartment door closing and you distracted the slight emptiness within you with your eyes following Pierre around your room.

But as you sat there for a few seconds, ignorant to whatever Pierre had just said to you casually, that heaviness inside you only grew larger until you were blinking back tears. Swearing under your breath, you pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes and tried to calm yourself down and pull yourself out of this silly momentary depression. Pierre’s warm hand on your wrist guided your hands away from your face and you were met with his worried expression, concern filling his sweet blue eyes.

“Hey,” he cooed, “what’s wrong?”

“Can you go get him?” you asked shakily, letting your request tumble from your lips without realization from your brain that it was something that was on your mind, “Don’t let him leave yet.”

Pierre didn’t even reply before he was hurrying out of your room and across your modest apartment and you heard the sound of the front door open but not close. Embarrassed, you hid your face in your hands again with your knees curled up to your face in the centre of your bed, only privy to the faint muffled voices from the general direction of the hallway. Then, you heard the front door shut and two pairs of feet were hurrying across your floorboards and then the mattress dipped on either side of you as you were framed by the two young men.

“We’re here.” George said softly, rubbing his hand over your back, “What’s going on?”

You sniffled into your hands, “I dunno, I just got really sad, I’m sorry.”

Pierre petted your hair and he promised you, “You don’t have to say sorry.”

“That’s my fault.” George said to you, “I shouldn’t have just rushed out of here until I knew you were okay. Not after such a crazy night.”

You nodded with a tremble to your bottom lip and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder to guide you in so he could kiss your temple. You kept your hands over your face even as he held you under his arm for a moment and Pierre shuffled closer on your other side to keep you equally comforted and warm.

“Can you both stay tonight?” you asked ever so softly, almost unintelligible.

“Yeah.” Pierre agreed easily, “Of course.”

“Sure, we can.” George answered at the same time.

“We don’t do this.” you sniffled as you stated the obvious fact that came with your no-strings-attached relationships with the both of them. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Pierre kissed your head.

“We’re not going to just leave you like this simply because spending the night is something we don’t often do.” George said with his hand rubbing over your arm as you shivered in only your thin t-shirt.

“Let’s warm you up.” Pierre shifted away from you and started to pull back the sheets of your bed.

George got up too to help you get under the blankets and tuck them up around you as you rested back against the headboard and then he was unbuttoning his shirt again and dropping it to the floor. Pierre dropped his jeans too and then joined you under the covers, right away swallowing you up in his arms as you shivered slightly and blinked away your tears. When George joined you in bed too, he brought with him your water glass that had been left on your bedside table earlier and he carefully held it for you to help you sip a little more.

“Good girl.” Pierre whispered as you drank your water. “Finish that up for us.”

You took the glass from George to finish it yourself and when it was empty, he set it back on your bedside table for you. Despite the lack of words you had to fill the silent air time, your mind was whirling a mile a minute and especially surrounding the conversations that both men had with you back to back about what they wanted your situation to look like moving forward. If nothing else, this drop you were experiencing and the necessary care they knew to give you only made things feel much more complicated.

But then you were sinking under the blankets until Pierre could tuck them right up to your chin and you turned to curl yourself into George’s side, wrapping your arm around his middle and resting your head on his chest. He slid his arm around you too so you were snuggled close and he kissed your forehead, making sure you were comfortable there and sufficiently wrapped up in limbs and blankets. Pierre scooted right up beside you and brushed your hair from your face gently, lulling you to sleep quickly in the safety that the both of them brought to you.

The haze of the morning settled over your consciousness as you blinked yourself awake in the comforting familiarity of your bedroom. Your aching body had you wincing slightly as you roused and you shifted to stretch out the soreness in your muscles despite the arm that laid heavily around your middle. You glanced over to see Pierre still fast asleep beside you, breathing calmly, long lashes resting on pink cheeks, and his permed brunette hair in a wild mess atop his head.

You sniffled casually as your stuffy nose was a reminder of your few tears shed the night before and the stinging of your eyes was of any indication of a hangover and the remanence of your momentary wallows in the middle of the night. Pressing the heel of your palm to one of your eyes, you winced through the discomfort that the morning brought and tried to piece together any recollection of what exactly had happened. The smell of bacon and eggs wafting from the kitchen certainly helped as it solved the mystery as to where your third member had disappeared to and that and the promise of painkillers helped to lure you out of bed.

Moving slowly so as to not wake Pierre, you made sure he was tucked back under the sheets before you slid into your slippers and pulled George’s oversized plaid jacket on to keep yourself warm within the air conditioned apartment and your limited clothing. Sure enough, George was in the kitchen cheffing away at the stove in only his boxers with your boom box radio playing quietly from the corner of the counter. He was whistling along to the pop songs as he tended to the sizzling bacon in the pan.

The creak of the floor boards under your feet had him glancing over with that handsome smile and with the spatula in hand, he came over to greet you with a kiss to your cheek and a friendly, “Morning.”

“Good morning.” you replied quietly as you leaned against the counter and watched him return to the stove.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah, emotionally.” you answered, “Thanks for staying. I know it was kinda weird…especially with three of us sharing the bed.”

“Nah, no need to apologize.” George assured you with a quick glance, “I’d never give up a night with you, no matter how many times I was pushed off the bed last night.”

You covered your mouth with your hand, “Did I kick you off?”

George laughed, “Only once or twice. There wasn’t much room…but that’s okay. As long as you slept well and are feeling more yourself this morning.”

“Just a hangover…and I’m a little sore.” you confessed and slid over to him at the stove, wrapping your arm around his bicep to whisper against his shoulder, “My ass hurts like a bitch.”

He licked away the smirk that played at his lips and he glanced over at you, “That’s too bad.”

You gave his arm a squeeze, “No hangover for you?”

“A small one…just powering through to make you a hearty breakfast.” he said as he looked back at the pan, carefully nudging the bacon around in the crackling grease. Then, he gestured towards the coffee pot, “Coffee is fresh too, if you want some. Helps take the edge off.”

“Thanks.” you sighed in relief and poured yourself a half cup in your favourite mug.

“I gotta say, you’re quite the looker in that suit.” George complimented.

You did a little spin in his plaid jacket, the lengthy tails whooshing out from your legs slightly, “Why thank you.”

“I was just wondering if it looks as ridiculous on me as it does on you.”

“Oh, no.” you answered smoothly, “It looks far better on me.”

George sent you a pointed glare, “Ha, ha.”

You just hid your smile behind a sip of hot coffee and rested back against the counter nearby, giving him his space but still lingering close to get that fix of affection and attention you craved. It was so domestic and lovely and the back of your mind played your brief conversation from the night before on repeat, knowing that George was leaning more towards the concept of having you to himself. It didn’t necessarily mean to be his girlfriend but it was certainly a step towards that direction and you hadn’t given that concept any prior thought.

But Pierre was in the same boat and you couldn’t imagine yourself just cutting him out that easily either. He was also incredibly special to you and you had a connection with him that was just as strong and passionate as the one you had with George. Oh, you were too hungover for this crossroads. You took another lengthy sip of your coffee.

The creak of the floorboards had you looking over to Pierre emerging from your bedroom looking like he had seen better days. His hair looked like he had been struck by lightning and the alcohol-induced bags under his eyes were only made worse from the lack of sleep and when he rubbed at them, it just made his eyes red. But the sight of him still made you grin and you greeted him with a sweet good morning just like you had with George moments before.

“Morning.” Pierre replied gruffly, slumping forward over the other side of the island from you, “I have a wicked hangover this morning.”

You offered out your mug, “Coffee?”

“Thanks.” he mumbled and took the mug from you for a small sip.

You left him with that mug to go pour yourself a new one from the coffee pot on the counter before returning to the peninsula counter.

Pierre reached across the counter to tug at the sleeve of the plaid jacket you wore, earning your attention again, “How are you feeling this morning, cherié?”

You smiled over at him, “Better. Thank you for staying.”

“Of course.”

George began to plate the breakfast and, as he did, he spoke to the both of you, “So I brought in the paper this morning and there was a cover story that you might want to take a look at.”

You and Pierre exchanged slightly confused expressions but George gestured over to the table where the morning paper was waiting and the two of you walked over to lean over top of it and read the headlines. The one that caught your eye first only did so because of the large paparazzi photograph of George entering the club in his freshly ironed plaid suit and large framed sunglasses,

Formula 1: Russell bandages Silverstone DNF with menage et toi

“Holy shit.” you gaped, setting your mug down on the table a little too hard in exchange for the paper in your hands to get a closer look.

Pierre, with furrowed brows, leaned over your shoulder to keep reading too, slowly vocalizing only the key few lines from the article printed in the fresh ink letters from that morning’s paper, “An anonymous source reported that Russell and his two companions were seen entering a taxi together where lewd touching and saucy whispers were shared in the backseat.”

George set the breakfast plates down on the table for the three of you as if unbothered by the public humiliation that came with the British tabloids slandering his image on the front page of the paper. He wiped his hands on the tea towel that was draped over his shoulder, watching the both of you for any sort of reaction as the three of you sat around the table. Pierre just kept re-reading and you finally looked up at him with an expression of absolute bafflement.

“It’s gotta be the taxi driver.” Pierre scoffed, “Who else would have known what was going on in the backseat? Fucking pervert.”

“This is bad, Georgie.” you insisted.

“Nah,” he exhaled, “it’s just another dig that the tabloids publish about me. I’m just used to it now. Half of the things they write are complete ludacris anyway so what’s one more crazy story…if anything it keeps my name current.”

“It’s not fair on you.” you pressed.

“No, but what can you do? They’re going to say whatever they want. I’ve learned you just gotta deal with it and let it roll off your back. I’m more worried about what you two think.”

“I mean…it’s really weird knowing that this is about me. But they don’t have my picture or name so I don’t care, really.” Pierre shrugged, “Otherwise I’d be worried about my boss seeing.”

They both looked at you for your response next.

You took a second to comprehend it all - the first time you were mentioned on the front page of the newspaper. Of course, it wasn’t by name or with a picture but you knew it was about you and it was a strange feeling; some sort of mix of embarrassment and pride. Hiding your face behind the newspaper, you attempted to hide your giggle but of course the guys saw right through you.

Pierre snatched it out of your hand, “What are you laughing at, huh?”

“I’m mentioned on the front page of the newspaper like a real little motorsport groupie.” you beamed cheekily, wrapping yourself up in the excess fabric of George’s jacket you still wore.

“For the last time: you’re not a groupie.” George tisked.

“Well,” Pierre argued lightly in response, “what else would you call a slut who giggles excitedly at public attention like this?”

You grabbed the newspaper right out of Pierre’s hand just to smack him over the head with it in retaliation. George just chuckled into his bite of bacon.

The three of you eating breakfast together felt weirdly normal, as if you all had been friends for ages and that you weren’t in some weird friends-with-benefits situation with the both of them. As you ate and conversation flowed, you couldn’t help but see further intentions behind each of their actions or their words, trying to ignore their ulterior motives stemming from their individual pitches to you from the night before. You brushed the thoughts aside and tried to convince yourself that maybe they were just drunk and they didn’t even recall asking you to be exclusive. Maybe if you never spoke of it again it would just go away and life would continue on as is. You liked it as is.

When breakfast was done and the three of you shared the responsibility of cleaning up the kitchen, the natural progression of the late morning meant they would have to start to head out; George’s parents would be wondering where he was - he reminded you with an eye roll - and Pierre said he had an appointment at the bank to make. So they got dressed and you reluctantly gave George back his jacket and you stood with them in the foyer as they got their shoes back on and were ready for goodbyes.

In only slip-on loafers, George was ready to go first and he stepped over to you to set a hand on your waist and he leaned in to kiss your cheek and then your lips before whispering just quiet enough for only you to hear, “Think about what I said, okay?”

The reminder of your conversation from the night before had your heart in your throat and you nodded dumbly in reply, earning another quick kiss. Then he was switching spots with Pierre who wrapped you up tightly in his arms for a squeezy hug that forced a breathy laugh out of you.

“I will call you later.” he promised against your ear, “We should talk about what I mentioned last night.”

You clutched onto the back of his jacket for a second longer with your eyes scrunched shut as if in disbelieving frustration. But then he was pulling out of your embrace so he could slide his hand around the side of your neck so he could guide you in to give you a few quick kisses.

Swaying the subject, you directed to the both of them as you followed them to the door, “Thank you for an amazing night.”

“Thank you for being such a gracious host.” George said lightheartedly in reply, stepping out into the hallway of your building.

“Oh, any time.” you gushed with a casual lean against your door frame.

Pierre laughed with a shake of his head and looked at George beside him, “We really just have great taste in women, don’t we?”

And, as if having known each other for years, George gave Pierre’s shoulder a friendly pat as they headed in the direction of the elevator together, “Indisputably.”

Some more pics that fit the vibes but didn't make the title images:

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