#after finishing this the first thought in my head was “man this is stupid”

[aemondloverr]

𝐀 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐭. 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒 • 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 • 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: At breakfast, an important event is announced, and you and cregan spend time in Wintertown, just outside the wall.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: A bit of gossip, bratty brother, denial of feelings, and a jealous man.

𝐰𝐜: 6.9k💀

𝐀/𝐍: I think I'll take a bit of a break after this just because I need to lock in for school :( NGL this is a boring ahhh filler chapter but it’s necessary for pacing☝️🥸 I PROMISE. Or else it would be going way too fast. Trust me. I want it to get freaky already too. There ARE some cute things in there tho.

This may come as a surprise or not a surprise but I feel like I should’ve said this earlier 😭…This series is a Medium-burn. Not SLOW but to get to the best parts, you gotta make it to the end😔

This was originally going to be a one shot and then I thought up a backstory. Then it was 3 parts. And that was a GREATLY underestimated number. Now it’s going to be 6 or 7 parts now so uh…😃 yea…

p.s I did NOT proof read

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐩:

You don't want to fall back into old patterns, let alone complicate your current situation. It hurt you to hurt him the way you did but you have to be strong...and yet, deep down, something inside you yearns for the familiarity of his presence, the warmth of his smile, the feel of his touch…

You lift the lid of the food he brought and your eyes land on a small piece of paper tucked among the food. It's a note, penned in a neat and familiar handwriting. The ink is dark, the words written with a strong and decisive hand.

As you read the words, you can almost hear Cregan's voice in your mind, the deep timbre of his tone echoing in your ears.

It reads:

"I hope the food is to your liking. Sleep well, Princess..."

C.

A note so kind yet you were so cruel.

Tonight was not a night you slept soundly, but rather, a night you pondered your words.

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

 The next morning…

Cregan rises from bed and quickly begins readying himself for the day, thinking of the promise you made to spend the day with him. After some time, he finishes preparing and makes his way through the castle, heading towards your chambers, his heart thumping in his chest. A part of him feels wary of what mood you’d be in today.

Dismissive? Angry maybe? Would you make snide remarks or would you be on the more kind and tolerating side?

There is a knocking heavily on your door and you’re awoken. All you can do is groan in bed.

“Who is at my door this early?… its just past first light...”

Cregan’s smile widens at your groggy grumble from within the room and he responds, his voice holding a hint of amusement.

"Who do you think?"

“Just…wait outside. I’m not yet decent.”

He steps back from the door, leaning against the wall as he responds.

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

He can hear the faint sounds of movement coming from within the room- sheets being thrown aside, bed creaking lazily, your tired groans and mutterings. You walk over to your wardrobe and take off your shift, quickly replacing it with a dress. It’s the thickest you have, though not near thick enough to shield from the biting cold of your room after the fire in the hearth is burnt down to just embers.

After you put on your dress, you attempt to put on your corset by yourself, but to no avail. As Cregan waits outside, his ears perk up, hearing the sound of you struggling with your corset. His expression turns to one of slight amusement, a hint of a smile on his lips as he imagines you cursing and mumbling, trying and failing to lace it yourself.

“I don't know why I bother with this stupid, silly thing..." you mutter.

His amusement only grows, and he has to bite back an actual chuckle.

"Cregan?! Could you grab someone to help me, quickly!”

Cregan’s ears perk up again as he hears you call from within the room, and he pushes off from the wall and walks up to the door, responding in a quiet voice.

“Sure, but can’t I just-”

He was thinking of coming in and helping you lace it up himself but he cuts himself off as he realizes how improper that would sound, color rising to his cheeks. He clears his throat and responds again, trying to sound casual and nonchalant.

“Never mind that. I’ll- I’ll go get someone.”

He quickly locates a handmaiden or a maid in the nearby corridors and explains the situation and she nods and follows him back to your room, her own mind undoubtedly wondering what's going on.

As Sara, the handmaiden, walks in, she finds you standing there in your half-laced corset, a look of relief on your face. She can't help the small smirk that graces her own lips as she looks at you, no doubt imagining all the things that could have led to this situation - a hasty morning tryst, possibly a stolen night of passion… but none of those are the case of course.

"Thank you Sara…"

She smiles at you as she takes over the task of lacing up your corset, pulling the strings taught, cinching it tightly.

"My pleasure, Princess. Anything else you need this morning?"

"Could you brush my hair...? Style it perhaps, the Northern way?"

You want to dress the traditional style of their people if you want them to have a reason to favor you. Sara grins and nods quickly, already reaching for the brush on the nearby table.

"Of course, Princess. I'd be honored to style your hair. Just have a seat, and I'll have you looking Northern in no time!"

You take a seat on the chair in front of the vanity, and Sara moves behind you. She gently runs the brush through your hair, as she gathers sections, braiding and twisting it in a traditional style, the ones great ladies of house Stark wore.

Sara hums gently as she works, her fingers moving with practiced ease. Every now and then, she glances up to study her work in the mirror, making sure the braids and knots are in their rightful places.

"You have very lovely hair, Princess. It's a pleasure to style it."

"Thank you it looks lovely."

She finishes the last braid and gives it a final twist, securing it in place with a small pin. She steps back, a satisfied smile on her face as she admires her work, eyes sweeping over you from head to toe and taking in your now-styled hair and laced corset.

"There. All done, Princess. You look like a proper Northerner now!"

You stand from the seat, pleased with the finished product, smiling ear to ear.

"Absolutely gorgeous," she murmurs, her tone filled with approval and appreciation.

She can't help but smile back at your radiant expression, feeling very satisfied with her contribution to your appearance. However, a knowing sparkle in her eye betrays the fact that she's just dying to ask...

"May I ask who it is you're getting all dolled up for, Princess?" Of course she's caught right on.

"Dolled up? Why this is quite casual, is it not?" You get up, crossing the room to put on the pelts too large, given to you by Cregan the previous night.

Sara giggles and rolls her eyes, unable to hide her knowing smile. She follows you across the room as you move to don the pelts, eyebrow raised in slight suspicion.

"Oh, of course. I can definitely see how getting your hair braided and fussing over a corset can be 'quite casual', how silly of me Princess!"

"Oh quiet about him. I'd just like to be presentable, in case townspeople see me..."

It's quite an obvious lie. And Sara is clearly not convinced by your flimsy excuse, but decides to tease you a bit more anyway.

"And does this have anything to do with the fact that Cregan is waiting outside, looking oh so impatient to see you?"

Right on the money.

"No...A Princess should look the part at all times, is all..."

"Of course, Princess..."

"Id planned this outfit before I came North. So yes it's pure coincidence."

No royal ever packs all of their own bags for long trips so clearly, another lie. She looks you up and down one more time, taking in the complete picture of you in your Northern-style hair, corset, and pelts.

"Well, I'll admit, Princess, you look absolutely stunning. I don't think Cregan will be able to keep his eyes off you." She winks playfully, laughing at the heat creeping onto your cheeks.

"Sara Shh!! He's right outside the door!!"

Sara laughs and puts a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle her giggles and responding in a hushed whisper.

"You're right. Wouldn't want the poor Northern Lord to overhear us speaking of his obvious affections, now would we?"

"Are you trying to give me away? Quiet!”

Sara laughs again, unable to contain her amusement at your flustered state. She nods and responds in a mock-serious tone.

"As you wish, Princess. My lips are sealed. I'll refrain from mentioning the Lord of Winterfell's pining heart. At least when he's close by."

Sara watches you leave, and she can't help but feel a pang of sympathy and amusement at your flustered state and denial, knowing full well the truth. You like him just as he likes you, though, you hide it better than he does.

"Have a lovely day, Princess," she calls out after you, tone dripping with sarcastic sweetness.

 You just roll your eyes as, you often do.

Sara laughs heartily at your eye-roll, enjoying that she's managed to ruffle your feathers a bit. She gives you one last wink and watches as you walk out of the oom, eyes following you all the way to the door.

Cregan is leaned against the wall, waiting patiently for you to finish getting ready. He hears the sound of the door opening, and he looks up, his eyes widening when he sees you emerge from the room. His gaze slowly trails over you, taking in the sight of your braided Northern-style hair and the fit of the corset beneath the pelts that seem to swallow you whole.

“Shall we go to breakfast?”

He nods, unable to tear his gaze away.

"Yes...yes, of course. Then to the market after." he manages to choke out, voice slightly hoarse. He walks next to you in silence, his eyes fixed straight ahead. His heart is pounding in his chest, his stomach tied in knots. He can't really bring himself to speak, mind still filled with thoughts from the previous day. 

He glances at you from the corner of his eye, but  your expression is neutral, tension in your shoulders. The silence hangs heavily between the two of you, an unsettling reminder of the argument from yesterday.

The silence is awkward and neither of you want to talk.

Cregan steals glances at you as you walk, and unbeknownst to you, he's still fixed on the way youv'e readied yourself this morning.

Thats how she'd be dressed of she was the lady of-

He stops the thought in its path before he could even finish it, taking a deep breath as to not get flustered.

As you descend the stairs of the great keep and step out into the yard, eyes turn towards the two of you. A few Stark guardsmen standing nearby do a double-take at your appearance. Some of them whisper to each other.

Cregan notices the looks and glares, a hint of possessiveness flaring in his eyes as he guides you towards the entrance of the great hall.

He keeps one hand on your lower back, fingers splayed over the pelts. The noise and activity of the room die down somewhat as the people inside catch sight of you, many of them whispering and murmuring amongst themselves.

“Remove your hand please…” You whisper.

He looks a little hurt, a tinge of disappointment in his voice when he responds, trying his best to act unbothered.

"Sorry. I...sorry. I forgot myself for a moment…"

To your surprise, everyone in the hall stands in your presence.

“No no please, be seated.”

The Lord opposite you hurriedly stands to pull out your chair, practically tripping over himself to do so. The rest of the Lords and Ladies take their seats once more. He's clearly a little flustered by your appearance, eyes roaming over your face with a look in his eye that you cant quite place.

Cregan watches the lord, his jaw clenching ever so slightly. He can feel his possessive nature flaring up again, not liking the way the he's shamelessly ogling you right before his eyes.

Not that cregan hadn't been ogling you himself as well.

"Thank you. you are too kind!”

The Lord blushes slightly at your words, his eyes still taking in the sight of you in pelts and braids. He stutters, his voice hoarser than before as he responds..

"It's- it's nothing, my lady. It's an honor, truly, to host a guest as fine as yourself here at Winterfell."

“It’s my honor entirely. Winterfell is very beautiful!”

The Lord practically beams with pride at your compliment. The few other lords and ladies gathered at the table also nod in agreement, clearly flattered that a Southron princess is complimenting their home.

Cregan can't help but roll his eyes at the lord's reaction, silently amused and somewhat annoyed at the man's obvious attempts at currying your favor.

Sounds of forks and cutlery clattering against plate fills the hall as everyone eats.

Maybe you could use this to get back at Cregan…

The idea forms quickly in your mind, a small smile slowly spreading across your lips. You play into the lord's ego, leaning in slightly and giving him an appreciative smile, your eyes sparkling with charming sweetness.

"You flatter me, my Lord," you murmur, your voice lower and velvety-soft.

"Could I ask you something, princess?"

"Yes?”

He leans in slightly closer, as if sharing a secret, his voice lowered to a whisper.

"I do hope you won't think me too forward in asking, but...do you have plans for this evening?  

You take a moment to pretend to gather your thoughts, letting the Lord bask in his excitement and anticipation. You glance across the table, meeting Cregan's eyes for a split second before looking away again.

“I do not. Why do you ask?”

The Lord is clearly flustered by your closeness and your sweet demeanor as he responds.

"Hunting parties today, my princess. We- we have a few set to head out to the Wolfswood a few hours before noon."

“For what purpose? Is there an event or something of the sort?” 

"Yes, there is a feast this evening in your honor. It's tradition here to hunt when there is a...guest of importance on an extended stay at Winterfell. It is considered good fortune and-"

Cregan cuts in, unable to refrain from interrupting once more, his eyes fixed on yours as he adds,

"And an opportunity to display one's skills to our guest. To prove one's worth, as it were."

Just the response you wanted. Jealousy.

“That’s a similar tradition we do in the South also, except it’s for the King usually.”

The Lord nods in agreement, his heart practically beating out of his chest, bursting at your apparent interest in him.

"Quite true, my lady. It is a custom that goes back centuries here in the North. And we take great pride in honoring our guests appropriately."

“Well let us make this a bit more interesting for the people, shall we?”

The room falls silent as you stand up and tap your glass gently, all eyes turning to you, including Cregan's. The lords and ladies at the table watch you expectantly, wondering what you're about to say.

“Good morning, lords and ladies. I’ve been made aware of the feast to come this evening in mine and my brother's honor,”

Nods and murmurs of acknowledgement come from the other lords and ladies around the table. They all seem eager to know more about the upcoming feast, clearly looking forward to the celebration.

“I’d like to pose a challenge for those participating later at noon…Whoever brings me the largest game shall win my hand at the dance this evening!!”

There are gasps and low murmurs of surprise from the lords and ladies around the table at your declaration. Many of them are clearly taken aback, and a few look even envious at the prospect of being your partner at the dance.

Now that’s something worth raising a glass too.

A few of the lords and ladies around the table immediately raise their cups, clearly excited and motivated by your offer. They all toast to the challenge, already making silent plans on how they can outdo the others and win your favor.

You take your seat again as the lords and ladies around the table continue their conversations, most of them now talking about the upcoming challenge and the possibility of winning your favor at tonight's feast. Cregan sits across from you, his eyes fixed on your face, a mixture of irritation and disappointment in his gaze.

You question him, feigning obliviousness.

“What’s wrong?”

Cregan's eyes narrow slightly as he looks at you across the table, his jaw clenched.

"You know exactly what's wrong. You're offering your hand as a prize to the first hunter to bring you a big stag. What game are you playing at?"

“It’s just a bit of fun, lighten up!”

Cregan's eyes flash with irritation as he grits his teeth, clearly not amused by your nonchalance.

"Just a bit of fun, is it? Offering yourself up like a prize to be won? Can't you see how dangerous and foolish you're being?"

“Do not argue at your own table with your guest. It is impolite and rude, Lord Stark”

Cregan's jaw clenches tightly at your rebuke, a flicker of anger in his eyes. But he holds his tongue, reluctantly swallowing back the retort that nearly spills from his lips. He knows you're right, but it doesn't make him any less angry about the situation.

He forces a tight smile.

"Yes, of course, my princess. Forgive me for my lapse in courtesy."

You begin to talk to the lord beside you again. Cregan watches from across the table as he continues to talk your ear off, his eyes fixed on you. It takes every ounce of self-control he has to bite back the words that threaten to spill from his mouth, resisting the urge to snap at the man for hogging your attention.

He stabs at the food on his plate like an angry child.

“I did not catch your name. Lord…?”

The Lord blushes slightly at your question, clearly flattered that you're showing an interest in him.

"Oh, forgive me, my princess. How foolish of me to forget such an important detail. I am Lord Harwin Flint, the son and heir to Lord Wylis Flint of Widow's Watch."

“Quite a long way you are from Widows Watch.”

"Indeed, my lady. Winterfell is not the closest place to my home, but the Starks are an ancient and respected family, and I’d feel honored to be in attendance at such a splendid feast."

“Of course,” you smile before taking another bite of your food.

*****

Soon after, breakfast concludes.

The lords and ladies around the table begin to stand up, signaling the end of the morning meal. A few of them cast glances in your direction, clearly still thinking about the challenge you proposed earlier.

Cregan stands up as well, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on you as you rise from your seat to leave the great hall. He walks beside you in silence for a few moments, eyes occasionally stealing glances in your direction. The air between you is thick with tension, though he makes no attempt to break it yet.

“What is it?"

Cregan glances at you, surprise briefly flitting across his face that you seem to have noticed his subtle glances. He considers you for a moment before speaking, choosing his words carefully.

"That young Lord Cedric. He seemed rather... taken with you."

His tone is neutral, but there's a hint of jealousy or possessiveness in his words.

"Well I am a Princess so..."

His jaw clenches slightly at your words, his jealousy evident in his expression. His eyes flash with a hint of anger as he responds.

"True, but the way he was looking at you... it was more than simple admiration."

He pauses, his voice dropping lower as he continues.

"He didn't just see a princess. He saw a woman to admire and possibly court."

"Oh nonsense-"

"No, I'm serious. I saw the way he kept glancing at you, the way he blushed like a boy when you thanked him. He was smitten, Princess."

He stops walking, turning to face you directly, his expression dark and intense.

"You can't tell me you didn't notice."

“Were you not staring at me too…?” I tease “for quite a long time might I add…”

"I was merely observing... as any lord does when a royal guest is in his domain."

He takes a step closer towards you, his gaze locking onto yours.

"And you're deflecting. We're talking about Lord Cedric, not me."

“Observing…I see…” I say sarcastically.

Cregan's smirk widens at your sarcastic tone, obviously amused. He takes another step closer to you, reducing the distance between you even further. His eyes never leave yours as he speaks, his voice now a low rumble.

"Oh, yes, 'observing'. I was observing your every movement, your every expression, your every reaction to Lord Cedric's attention."

He leans in slightly.

"And I didn't like what I saw."

"My conversation with Lord Cedric is not for you to like or dislike. Matters of the Princess of the realm are no matters for that of the Warden of the North"

"You're right. You are the Princess of the realm, and I am the Warden of the North. However, that does not mean I cannot have opinions or feelings regarding your interactions with my men."

He pauses, his gaze flickering over you for a moment before he continues.

"Lord Cedric is young and inexperienced. He doesn't appreciate the significance of your presence here- "

"We will speak of this no more. I did not come here to listen about how you don’t like when lords fancy me.”

Cregan's expression tenses at your firm tone, his jaw working with suppressed frustration. His eyes linger on you for a moment before he responds, his voice taut and strained.

"As you wish, Princess. But just remember, the North is a place of bluntness and honesty. Here, we say what we mean and mean what we say."

He takes another step towards you, his eyes not leaving yours as he continues, his voice low and intense.

"And I mean it when I say that I'm not fond of seeing you with other men."

You sigh, annoyed and walk away.

Cregan watches as you walk ahead, hands balling into fists as he tries to control his emotions.

He quickens his pace to catch up with you, strides long and purposeful, closing the distance between you in just a few steps. When he reaches your side, he reaches out and gently grasps your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

You turn abruptly.

Cregan's grip on your arm tightens for a moment before he releases you, his eyes locking onto yours. His expression is a mix of anger and something else – something you can't quite place, but it makes your heart beat a little faster.

"You can't just walk away from me like that."

“Then walk faster.” You pull your arm away.

For a moment, he looks as though he's about to grab your arm again and pull you back, but he restrains himself, letting out a frustrated huff instead.

"So, you're going to act like a petulant child now?" He asks, his voice laden with sarcasm.

"I am simply protecting my sanity and I will not allow you to destroy it. Not again."

Cregan's expression darkens at your words, his jaw tensing as he recalls the history between you. His eyes narrow, the memory of past hurts and disagreements stirring up his anger.

"I destroyed your sanity? Pray tell, how I managed to do that?" he retorts, his voice sharp and filled with bitter sarcasm.

“Can we not talk about this right now? It’s far too early in the morning.”

Cregan lets out a frustrated huff, his patience clearly wearing thin. He takes another step towards you, closing the gap between you even further. His gaze is intense and unwavering as he responds, his voice low and filled with an underlying hint of anger.

"You can't just bring up such a serious accusation and then refuse to elaborate. You're acting like a child."

You stop in your tracks suddenly. “You will do well to remember who you are speaking to. I’m here because I have to be, not because I want to. So save your interrogation for a later date.”

Cregan stops walking as well, his eyes narrowing at your response. His jaw clenches as he bristles at your words, his anger flaring up once again.

"And you would do well to remember who I am as well," he retorts, his voice filled with a hint of condescension.

"I am the Lord of the North and the Warden of this castle. You may be a princess, but you are a guest here. It would do you well to remember that, and show me the respect I am due."

“I don’t owe you anything-“

Cregan's anger spikes at your impudent response.

"You don't owe me anything, huh? You come into my castle, eat my food, expect me to house and protect you, and you don't think you owe me anything?"

“I didn’t ask you to-“

"I offered you my hospitality, and in return, all I ask is a little respect."

You take a breath, sighing because you know he’s sort of right. He is providing you. But it wasn’t your choice to come here in the first place.

“Fine then if you’re so desperate for it” you mutter, just to shut him up.

He crosses his arms over his chest, his stance still tense as he responds, his voice now calmer but still laced with a hint of sarcasm.

"Oh, gracious of you. I didn't know asking for basic decency was such a challenge for a Princess such as yourself."

You simply roll your eyes as you always do.

As you continue walking through the streets of the Wintertown, the people pause in their activities, their heads turning to watch you as you pass. Some stare openly, their curiosity and surprise evident on their faces as they whisper to each other. Others bow their heads reverently, their gazes filled with awe and admiration.

Cregan walks beside you, his gaze constantly flickering from you to the people around you, watching their reactions with a mixture of pride and possessiveness.

There was no time to keep glowering when you’re supposed to be looking the part so you quickly change your expression.

You give a polite smile and the people respond to your smile with smiles of their own, some even offering timid waves or friendly greetings as you pass by.

Your friendly waves and acknowledgments only seem to deepen the impact you have on the people around you. A few of the women even whisper amongst themselves, their eyes flicking towards you with a mixture of envy and admiration. Men watch you with respectful gazes, clearly noticing your beauty and regality.

The aroma of various stalls fills the air – the scents of freshly baked bread, exotic spices, and roasting meats.

Your irritation slowly starts to subside as you take in the vibrant atmosphere around you. Children laugh and play nearby, their youthful energy filling the air. The smell of street food beckons your taste buds, and the scent of fresh herbs and spices hangs heavily in the air.

Cregan glances over at you, noticing the way your face softens as you watch the children play. Though he tries to hide it by quickly redirecting his gaze.

Pussy.

Merchants and vendors take notice of you and Cregan and offer you various goods and trinkets, hoping to win your favor. Some present intricate jewelry, others, beautifuly crafted knives, and some offer the finest produce from local farms. They seem eager to please you and you cant help but take their gifts and buy their many things.

And Cregan, well he cant help but find your kindness towards his people a desirable trait, So much so, he almost forgets the reason for his foul mood.

Your mood has brightened with your now-many things in your hands, and you stumble upon a dress. Its made of fine materials, intricate details and its black and rich red color catching your attention. Cregan follows behind you as you approach it,

"Ma'am, who made this magnificent gown? It's just lovely! and these gloves as well? The shoes even? Theres a whole set?!"

The shopkeeper, ancolder woman witha friendly smiles, steps forward to greet you. She beans at your compliments, face lighting up with pride.

"Thank you Princess," she says. "My husband and I are the seamster and seamstress who crafted this dress. The finest kmaterials money can buy. The gloves and shoes are his work also!"

"How much for the whole set?" You see another fabulous dress "Oh and that one there too,"

The shopkeeper moves quickly to fetch the dresses and present them to you, holding them up so you can see the front and the back. "Excelent choice milady," she says witha smile "Teh set of the first dress, with the gloves and shoes will be...lets see...Thats 215silver stags." She tunrs her attention to the second dress. "As for the second dress, that one will be 150 silver stags."

You think on it for a second before deciding. You practically throw your bags onto Cregan to take out your coin purse. "Oh would it really kill to buy a few more dresses? I think not. I'll take the other two dresses there and the necklance and the-" At this point, youre buying out they entire stock.

He eyes widen and she quickly fetches the other dresses, the necklace and a few more acessories, presenting them to you. "Anything else you'd like...?

"One last thing! The-" Cregan gently puts a hand on you arm, interrupting you sentence. He casts a glance at the growing pile of bags and items you are to purchase on the shop's counter, obviously overwhelmed.

"No more," He groans with a hint of annoyance in his voice. Hes already suffering enough from the many bags hes having to carry. "Youv'e already got enough to fill a small carriage-"

"Here hold this."

Cregan lets out an exasperated sigh as you hand him yet another item to carry, casting a tired glance at you, eyes silently questioning why you need so many thing.

You turn back to the Shopkeeper. "Im afraid this is all I can get...for now. If it were upto me id buy your entire stall, but i must heed the advice of your Lord before he collapses."

He smile faulters when Cregan shoots her a stern glare, warning her not to test his limits any further, sighing as he adjusts the bags in his arms once again.

"Lets go already," He orders firmly, gestering for you to walk ahead.

You give 4 gold dragons "For you and your husband. May You make the most beautiful dresses."

The shopkeepers eyes widen in disbelief, mouth agape as she looks at the hefty payment in her hand. She looks up at you, eyes brimming with tears and gratitude. "Thank you, milady," she stammers, ver voice trembling slightly. "You are too generous. i will pass this along to my hisband, and we will surely amke many more beautiful dresses in your honr."

"I do hope so. Good day to you miss." You take the box and teh small bag with the jewelry meanwhile Cregan is still annoyed about being relegated to the status of your personal pack horse.

Except you don't ride him like one. I mean, maybe you will-

He hadn't realised that something as mundane as shopping to brighten your mood so much. But he can't deny the genuine happiness on your face and he find himself unable to stay anooyed for too long. He casts a sidelong glance at you, observing your joyous expression as you carry the dresses and other items.

By the time you reached the gate, cregan almost couldnt hold it any longer. He looked positively frazzled and his breath comes in short puffs, face flushed with exertion.

You still stride ahead and he follows after you, steping heavily, silently pleading for compassion an undrstanding. You seem oblivious to his struggle. That or, you simply dont care. People give amused glances, finding the sight of him lugging your items aound quite comical.

The guards at the hate cant help but let out quiet chuckles, amused by the sight of Cregan struggling and he asks them for help. He feels a pang of embarassment at having to ask for their assistance.

"Of course can give you a hand." He hoists them over his shoulder and his friend still fights to keep a straight face, the supressed laughter threatening to burst out at any moment.

Creganhands over a couple of bags and boxes, grateful for the assistance, but still feeling a bit humiliated at the specticle hes become.

Reaching the keep, you hold open the door. "Up to my chambers, thank you."

Cregan nods mutely, body aching and cheeks flushed from exhertion, and he looks completely drained. He struggles up the stairs, following you to your chambers.

"Just a little more ways away."

The guards enter your chambers aswell, still trying not to laugh. You let out a little chuckle yourself and its not helping at all.

Cregan casts a resentfull look as you do so. He sets down the bags and packages, back aching. He lets out a sigh of relief and rolls his shoulders in attempts to loosen the tension in his mucles.

He collapses into the chair beside your bed to relax his body

"Uh, excuse you."

"What?" he asks with a tinge of irritation

"You can relax in your own room."

He rises from the comfortable chair, departing to retire to his own chambers. He had hoped for a moment respite after carrying all of your things, but he cant blame you for wanting him gone.

you walk towars the door, opening it for him. Hes muttering under his breath, dicontent quite obvious in his tone. Something about "Women" and "Too many bags" as he walks past you.

After he laves, you begin to undress in order to try on your newly purchased ones.

That same moment Cregan leaves your room, Jace emerges from his. He observes his disheveled state, out of breath and hair ruffled. Jace then unexpectedly pushes open the door without knocking, anger evident on his face.

You almost yelp, covering your body with your dress. He takes in your half state of undress and it only makes him angrier.

"What the FUCK Jace?"

"What the fuck to you too, what were you doing with Cregan??" he asks, voice coming out in a low, heated tone.

"What are you talking about?? You cant just barge in here like that!"

His expression hardens, shoulders tese and jaw clenched. "I saw him leaving your room. You wanna tell me what the hell is going on between you and him?"

"Lower your tone, nothing is going on, he only-"

Jace scoffs, disbelief evident on his face. "Only what? Why was he in here in the first place?"

"First of all, dont speak to me like that young man. You speak with respect or your turn your ass right back around and leave. Secondly, He'd carried all of my bags from the market for me. and turn around"

He just rolls his eyes, and faces towards the door so you can put your dress back on "He carried your stuff from the market? And that warrented him being in your room?"

"I asked him to bring it to my room so yes."

He found your explanation unsatisfactory and crosses his arms. "And that required being in your room while your'e undressing? Really??" he turns back around

"Do you even hear yourself right now? Why would I have undressed while he was in the room-" The realization of what he was implying suddenly dawns on you.

"I thought..." he trails off awkwardly.

Oh gods he think we really- "I didnt fuck him if thats what you're asking, alright? Gods..." your cheeks heat up at the words coming out of your mouth. Well thats definately something you never saw yoruself saying.

You might even wish that what you said wasn't true.

"I wasn't saying you did-"

"Yes you were."

He lets out a sigh and reluctantly meets your gaze. "Alright maybe I was, but can you blame me? seeing him come out of your room while you were undressing... what else was I supposed to think?"

"Youre supposed to think rationally. If you wanted me to send you home so badly, you coudve just said so."

His expression falters and his features soften as he realizes the weight behind your words. "I dont want you to send me away," he says quietly, voice barely above a whisper, "Im just..i dont know, i overreacted."

"You keepdoing this and im suck and fucking tired of it. I shouldn't have to threaten you for you to behave yourself..." you scold him with a disapointed tone. You thought he'd fixed his out of line behavior.

His shoulders sag, expression one of embarassment. "I overstepped I'm sorry..."

"Sorry isn't enough, this needs to change sooner or later. If you have concerns you let me know, respectfully."

Jace nods, his head lowered in genuine remorse. "I will..." he promises.

"Go to your room."

He turns to leave, shoulders slumped in shame.

"And on more thing."

"yes...?"

"There is a feast tonight. I expect you to be cleaned up and presentable within the next few hours."

He lets out a small sigh. "Alright. I will. Anything else?"

Knock next time. Please." He nods a third time and shuts the door behind him as he leaves.

"Gods that boy..." you mutter to youself. You make sure the door is locked this time as you undress again. "Hes so rash sometimes..." Youre still replaying the scene in your mind.

You continue to undress, shedding your outer layers until youre left in just your undergarments. Your top exposes a generous amount of skin and leaves very little to the imagination.

Knock knock knock.

"What do you want now Jace???"

There is a moment of confusion as you assumed it was Jace on the other side of the door. You call out again, your question lingering in the air, until the person on the other side replies.

"It's Cregan."

oh. "Yes?"

to your surprise he asks, "May I come in?"

"No i am not decent yet... what is it?"

cregan sesitates for a moment, clearly thrown off by your responce. he lets out a small cough, trying to maintain his composure. "Forgive me, I didnt lean to intrude. I...I just wanted to check in on you." He talks in a hushed tone now. "I heard you...arguing with Jace."

"Shouldn't you be resting?"

You let out a sigh and so does he.

"I was going to, but then i heard the comotion in your room and i wouldnt help but worry."

"How much did you hear...?"

He pauses for a moment, mind racing as he tries to decide whether or not to be truthful. You were worried he heard the part where you said-

"I overheard most of it..."

Fuck.

"I know. it wsnt a plesant conversation to listen to." but it was pleasant to think about fucking, even though you know you shouldn't.

He shakes his head to get the thoughts out of his mind. They're becoming dangerously more frequent for both of you.

"Well how much is 'most of it' ?"

Cregan leans against the doorframe, voice more quiet as he recounts what he had overheard. "You scolding Jace for barging in and jumping to conclusions about us... And.." Oh no here we go. He hesitates for a moment, voice getting even quieter.

"I heard you discussing the...less the appropriate implications he made about our...activities" He blushes furiously and awkwardly clears his throat. You silently cover your face on the over side of the door.

"Im so sorry you had to hear that..."

He shakes his head, trying to wave off your apology with a nonchalant gesture. But the blush on his face betrays his true feelings. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Its...Its alright," He assurs you "I shouldn't have listened in the first place."

"No we were too loud. Thanks for checking in on me." You reply

Cregan nods, his embarassment slowly fading as your words sink in. "Of course,"

You silently scream and punch the air, sursing Jace in your mind. Thinking back to those...activities, you blush too. You know he heard what you said.

"Okay.. Well um...Good luck on the hunt the. Go catch something big for me."

"You know I will," He replies, trying to sound confident. "I'll bring home the biggest buck you've ever seen."

"If you say so..." you taunt.

He grins, conficence rising at your doubtful tone. He cant let that go unchallenged. "Oh I do say so. I'll get that dance, just you wait."

"Off you go then."

As Cregan heads off to the stables, he can't shake the feeling of your prescence from his mind. The thought of you and the implications made still lingered, stirring up a maelstrom of emotions within him.

Maybe the things you said you hadn't done with Cregan, you wish you had.

He really just doesn't want any other lord to end up dancing with you. The image of another man, holding you in his arms makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. His mind fills with the image of him dancing with you and his heart quickens.

But then his thoughts take a more intimate turn and his imagination spirals out of control. Him holding you close, bodies pressed together, an embrace that borders on indecent. He can almost feel your warmth just thinking about it.

Cregan knows he shouldn't be thinking such things but he cant help it. That image of you, so close yet so far from his grasp, is consuming his mind and burning in his core like a raging fire.

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

𝐀/𝐍: SUMMARY: THEY JUST KEEP GETTING LONGER AND LONGER. I'm sorry for the boring filler guys (and for dissapearing) cuz NGL i dont think this ate at allll😔 see you at part 4 when the feast happens. At the end of the feast things get a little heated xp

@beebeechaos @iv-vee @aemondwhoresworld @6ternalsun @obscure-beauty @cregansfourthwife @msmarvelknight @kingdomzeldaquest @littlebirdgot @squidscottjeanseans @jellybeanstacey0519 @r-3dlips @fakem0net @shiggynuggiez @deemee3 @melsunshine @lipgloss05 @cherryheairt @lovevouuu @darlingcharling-blog @pearldaisy @allexlacazette

[jojosaur]

Day - 8

[maeumi-jng]

lipgloss and kisses

pairing: enhypen x gn!reader

synopsis: he watches you put it on and he loves to take it off.

warnings: fluff, skinship, suggestive-ish for hyung line except sunghoon, swearing, humour levels: bad, proof read ig

library: enhypen bookshelf

heeseung

one word. impatient.

heeseung obviously thought you looked good with lip gloss. in fact he thought you looked good in anything. lip balm, lipstick, lip oil, whatever that was... the reason behind it wasn't the product, it was you.

you just had such kissable lips. he had always thought so. even before you got together. heeseung liked you so much to the point any time you'd bring out some lip balm, all his attention would be focused on your lips. it was a bit strange, he couldn't deny that. but heeseung also couldn't help that you were just so captivating. the care you took to put it on, ensuring nothing escaped the borders and if it had, the swipe of your finger that tugged those pretty lips down... god... it was a lot.

honestly, you spent a lot of money on lip products. the reason? heeseung.

that man was always kissing you. on the bus, during your night routine, before bed, when you wake up, when you cleaned the dishes together, after being a part for a mere half hour....

and it wasn't just a peck. no. it was like heeseung was consuming you're entire essence. he would be breathing heavily, hand supporting the back of your neck to bring your closer if possible, kissing you as if he had been waiting a lifetime to do so. small gasps would fall from your lips while he nibbled down slightly, tugging and pulling at what was purely swollen by this point.

you lost more product than you put on. take now for instance because this is how it played out every single time. especially in the case of your stupid lipgloss.

you were getting ready for the day, adding your final touches. heeseung, who was only half dressed, still sporting his sweatpants from the night, had his arms slung around your neck, chin nestling into your collarbone, being his usual clingy morning self as you began to apply your lipgloss.

heeseung, finally registering you were putting on the lip gloss, whispered in your ear. "come on, a little faster, baby."

"hee," you whined, cheeks beginning to burn already. this was it. you could barely get through putting anything on your lips without him urging you to hurry up so he could kiss you. "stop! i always have to reapply because of you. i'm not going to kiss you."

heeseung just smiled softly, leaving gentle kisses on your neck. you sucked in a sharp breath, trying to regain your focus. "why do you make this so difficult?" you mumbled, carefully applying the gloss to your bottom lip.

you could hear a huff of amusement slip out of heeseung's mouth. "you are one to talk... you know how i feel about your lips. yet you torture me every single day."

you suppressed your eye roll at your boyfriend's theatrics. "not my fault you're down so bad."

heeseung poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, now watching you finish up without a word to say.

you had barely put the wand down let alone in the tube when heeseung's hand gently travelled to your chin, turning your head slightly so he could duck down and bring his lips to yours.

your half-groan and half-squeal turned muffled. your grip around the applicator tightened as you fell victim to the very thing you had been trying to stop. not that you were trying hard or anything. the gasp you released when he nibbled down allowed him to make a mess of you, slipping his tongue in to mix with your own and dance with the rhythm of your heavy pants.

heeseung finally parted, chest rising up and down with heavy breaths. his finger tugged down your bottom lip, only little remnants of your lip gloss dotting it. he sighed with a small smile. "you were right. i am down bad."

jongseong

the first time jay saw you apply lipgloss in a mirror, he was hooked. he only had to see you do it once and the following day, he brought several lipglosses for you.

it was like a side quest for him. every time he gifted you anything, a lip gloss would be on the side. or when you were literally out for groceries, you'd find him in the cosmetics aisle and he'd turn to with a lipgloss on hand. grabbing your hand, he'd pull you closer to him and start to compare the lipgloss in the packaging to your lips. "hmm... i don't know... maybe the red one would be better."

as much as you loved it, you were beginning to complain once your draw began to fill up with several tubes of gloss, covering any other item you had in sight. what were you supposed to do with this much lipgloss? furthermore, they actually had a shelf life.... they expired.

when you brought this up to jay, he gave you the most careless shrug. "i'll just get new ones. besides, all you have to do is put them on. i'll just take it off."

oh?

oh.

jay would also be so fucking sulky if his favourite colour was changed or discontinued. it wouldn't be obvious at first but after finding out, he'd let out little sighs every time you applied a different colour and he'd keep on looking at the expiry date, wishing time would stop.

you did manage to find a dupe, however. and the moment jay saw it, he was over the moon. like thank god and the stars in heaven.

immediately he'd ask you to put it on. and who are you to deny your boyfriend's sweet request? so you opened it and applied the colour, conscious of jay's trailing eyes. the moment the wand went back into the tube, jay grabbed your face, examining your lips with the distance of a hairbreadth.

you felt warm in his grasp, feeling his thumb hover over your lips as if he were tracing them. a satisfied smile washed onto his face, the scrunch of his furrowed brows disappearing. he nodded. "beautiful."

your cheeks tinged with a heated flush. you couldn't help but just give him a long kiss on his lips, parting to find your colour imprinted on him. you grinned, imitating his own tone. "beautiful."

jay rolled his eyes, hand travelling to encircle your waist. your mouth dried at the sudden proximity and the intensity swirling in his brown eyes. "let me show you just how beautiful you are."

STAWPPP 😳🤭

jaeyun

babe. listen. jake will stop everything he's doing if it means getting to watch you put some lipgloss on. sure, there's lip balm. but lip balm is not as pretty as lipgloss is on you.

pretty sure he has a spidey sense for it as well. like at any given time, if he thinks you're about to put on some lipgloss, he'll run right towards you.

you'll be in your room and you got a package the other day. it was some new lipglosses that you wanted to try. jake is in the living room, headphones on full blast, but yet somehow he can hear you open the package he brought from your mailbox.

you've just picked a lipgloss to try on and jake is already dragging the ottoman in the corner of your room to your mirror. "jake? i– where did you come from?"

"i heard you open your package, so," jake shrugged.

you blinked blankly. your hand stretched out to lift the headphones hung around his neck with a finger. "you heard me? with these on? jake, they're noise cancelling."

"i should sue for false advertisement," jake nodded to himself before redirecting his attention to you. his wide eyes flickering back and forth between you and the lip gloss in your hands.

you sighed, shaking your head. you knew exactly what he wanted. he wasn't slick with it. you had caught him several times, purposely placing your lip glosses randomly everywhere. on your bed, on the kitchen counter, next to your phone, next to the sink... the list was endless.

jake intently watched you open the lipgloss, head leaning in naturally. the push of your hand towards him surprised him but he realised quickly that you were fulfilling the question lingering inside his head: the smell of the lipgloss. taking a quick whiff, he noted the feigned berry scent, reminiscent of the warm plum colour it had.

you pushed down your smile at the cute little nod jake did once he was satisfied. taking the wand back, you leaned into your mirror, eyes narrowing and lips pursing.

out of your peripheral, you could see jake do the same, except his teeth were sinking into his bottom lip, far too focused on what you were doing.

his eyes trailed the tip of the applicator. the warm plum colour smeared softly against your pillowy lips, mostly sheer. it had small speckles of glitter from what jake could tell. as you rubbed your lips together, finally bringing in the entire coat, jake could tell he loved this gloss.

it looked amazing on you. or well, you made it look good.

you turned to him, wiggling your eyebrows. "what do you think?" you queried, jutting out your lips for him to see.

jake was at a lost for words. all he could do is grab your face with his hands and place his lips onto yours. your eyes widened at the sudden kiss before closing once you began to melt away at the pure fervour jake had within him. he was consuming you, attempting to get closer to you if he could and seizing any air around you.

you pulled yourself away, taking a big inhale of air. shit...

your eyes fell to the plum colour smudged across jake's lips. you were sure yours looked the same. you could've sworn your heart skipped a beat when a loose grin played on his face. "i love it."

sunghoon

to be honest, sunghoon had never thought about this. like ever. he had never seen it, never mind with someone he really liked, so it didn't really register for him. jake, the most clingy person he knows, talked about it all the time. he was already down bad but whatever this thing was with lipgloss, it had jake go feral. and sunghoon just didn't get it.

like bro, it's just lipgloss? like chill.

sunghoon understood the mundane things. like watching you tuck your hair behind your ears, the way you would chew down on your lip when you were concentrating on something, or the scrunch of your nose when you would squint. he would never admit it to you, or anyone for that matter, but he loved that shit.

this lipgloss thing? eh...

but then he saw it.

sunghoon never really pegged you for a lipgloss person. you were always complaining about your hair getting stuck in your lip balm, which resulted in your tucking your hair behind your ears (a win for him). so he just figured lipgloss wasn't in your kit.

but you two were getting ready for a lunch date and sunghoon saw you whip out the warm pink gloss while he put on his shoes. he forgot all about doing the laces... eyes honing on your lips through the mirror.

now that he had seen it, he couldn't stop looking. he understood it.

it was so intriguing.

the way you had to purse your lips and apply such a pretty colour. the way the light bounced off the shine, glittering occasionally. the care you took... the rubbing of your lips to smear the colour evenly... the little satisfactory nod and smile you sported when you saw yourself fully in the mirror...

fuck, he got it.

after finally finishing his shoes, sunghoon walked up to you, watching you turn around with a wide smile. you wiggled your eyebrows. "how do i look?" you asked, giving a small spin.

sunghoon smiled quietly, mind full of only your lips. he dipped his head down to your cheek, leaving a lingering kiss on the soft surface before pulling back. "pretty."

you smiled at his compliment, your own eyes looking him up and down, hand rubbing his chest gently. you stood on your toes, pressing a quick peck on his cheek as well. "you look pretty too."

your eyes widened at the shiny pink stain on his cheek. "aw shit," you cursed.

sunghoon raised a brow, looking at himself in the mirror. his body paused on the silhouette of your kiss on his skin. he could've sworn his heart was thundering in his chest while a wave of warm washed over him.

you grabbed a fresh wet wipe from your vanity, hand stretching out to wipe off the mark but sunghoon's hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.

sunghoon gave a small smile at the confused expression swirling in your eyes. "leave it."

your eyes go big at his words. "b-b-but it's gonna be on your skin? it's so pink and so... obvious..." you told him, voice slowly turning into a whisper as his smile got bigger.

"it's okay," sunghoon murmured, grabbing this wipe out of your hand and resting it on the vanity before intertwining his fingers with yours. "i like it like that."

soft for this type of sunghoon 🥹🤭

seonwoo

listen, seonwoo is the motherfucker that would apply it for you.

don't get him wrong. he loves watching you put lipgloss on. he admired the way you got so into it, blocking out the rest of the world for a good three minutes to make sure you had applied it well. besides, you looked so pretty.

but one day, you broke out of your trance and caught seonwoo looking invested in it. the surprise he had when you offered him the wand and a lipliner was like no other. you thought he wanted to put it on which was fine with you. especially considering you were secretly the one who loved seonwoo's lips the most. so soft... so pillowy and plump, perfect for any lip product.

but much to your surprise, seonwoo shook his head no and asked is he could put it on you. the offer was so sweet, you immediately wiped off any product on your lip, not caring that it was technically a waste, and sat ready for him to apply it.

and now... it was like a daily ritual.

every morning, as the both of you got ready, you would both decide on a combo you would wear for the day. and you would sit in front of the window, on the floor, sun beaming down on you.

it normally took three minutes at most to line your lips and then fill it with lipgloss. but with seonwoo, it took a lot longer. the both of you got distracted to easily.

he'd be lining your lips, unaware of all the sweet whispers falling from his mouth. "you're so pretty, baby," "i didn't know it was possible for lips to be this cute." and adding the final touches of your gloss, he'd say, "i just want to kiss you so bad... every day."

and this was your breaking point.

screw the lipgloss.

you would always end the entire moment by grabbing his face to kiss him. you could feel the sticky gloss move onto him, his soft pillowy lips absorbing all the colour and sparkles.

seonwoo would also get into it, pushing himself closer into your touch, making the kiss deeper as his craving for you expanded. his hands, free of the liner and gloss, would crawl up your neck, getting tangled in your hair. his eye would be completely shut, letting himself melt into you entirely.

the whole gloss thing always left seonwoo on fire. like he just couldn't wait to kiss you again and again.

you would leave the kiss by placing kisses across his jaw and kisses. practically adorning his skin in your marks while your hands fisted the end of his shirt.

you'd both spent the next ten minutes trying to wipe off the marks with wet wipes, talking and laughing about how maybe the lipgloss should be left to you, only for seonwoo to get sulky about it, refusing the proposition entirely. he was going to put your lipgloss on. even if it only resulted in it coming off.

you didn't mind though. seonwoo knew that deep down you'd wake up the next day and do it all over again just to kiss him again. because that's exactly what he wants.

jungwon

jungwon is another one who doesn't really get it. he's just so caring and romantic that he revels in the simplicity of romance.

he likes that you're the first text he sees everyday, even when you're right next to him. or when you walk around in his clothes... hoodies, matching bracelets, and keychains. when he checked on you to make sure you had eaten and to see how you're day had been going. his favourite, however, was your random urge to poke his dimples. it always made him break out into a shy smile which you teased him for.

these simple things... they kept him going.

but then came the lipgloss his sister had gifted you for your birthday. you were a big fan of tinted lip balms, he knew that. he always pretended to gape at your drawer full of them because he knew you'd end up hitting him in the arm, annoyed by his teasing.

this lipgloss, however, was truly one of a kind. it was packed with some of the prettiest glitter jungwon had ever seen. to be honest, jungwon should've thanked his sister when he saw you first apply it the next day.

you were out having a picnic. everything was just right. the sun, the comforting breeze, and the warmth of your head resting on jungwon's lap, while music softly played from your phone.

as you were resting on jungwon's lap, eyes closed and absorbing the peaceful atmosphere, you suddenly remembered you had brought along his sister's present. jungwon, who was spending most of this tranquility staring at you and combing his hand through your hair, had a mini heart attack when you suddenly opened your eyes and were lunging towards your bag.

his sharps brows furrowed at your rummaging. "what are you looking for, baby?"

your tongue hung out of the corner of your mouth. "uh," you failed to respond, trying to find the tube that you apparently had misplaced so easily in your bag. "ah! got it!" you cheered, feeling the smooth tube enter your hand.

jungwon watched as you grabbed your phone as well and went back to laying on his lap. you slid your phone to the camera, turning it so it faced you. placing the butt of the lipgloss tube in your mouth, you expertly twisted out the applicator and moved the tube between your fingers to apply the product.

the whole scene was some sort of alluring contraption to jungwon. the dexterity of your fingers surprised him but nothing surprised him more than his sudden fixation on your lips. the way you applied the warmish red in thin sheer coats across your soft lips, letting the sun capture every single speckle of glitter in it.

you were radiating.

you checked yourself in your phone before putting it down. you looked up at jungwon's staring eyes and pursed your lips. "thoughts?"

jungwon remained silent for a second, internally contemplating. but, nevertheless, a sigh slipped out of his mouth before he pressed his lips to yours. the peck was momentary before he pulled back. "i think it's pretty."

a flush of heat travelled down your cheeks. "jungwon," you whined, jutting out your lip, only increasing his urge to kiss you again. "you took like half of it off."

jungwon grinned, dimples popping out, making you instinctively poke them with your finger. his lipgloss coated lips pressed a brief kiss on the side of your finger. "i also think i'm going to have to buy you some more lipglosses."

riki

an interesting sort of impatience.

from the moment you started wearing lipglosses or he watched you put on your lip balm, riki was fixated on the act. he always pretended like he didn't care because for him it was slightly embarrassing. to be affected by something so simple, that is.

he never tries to enforce you like some people might by putting lipglosses everywhere or buying you them specifically. riki liked when it happened naturally and every so often.

on the occasion, maybe you were getting ready or you were testing out a new colour, he'd watch you out of the corner of his eye. patiently waiting for you to apply. why? it was simple because he wanted to come off.

he couldn't really grasp it. there was just this sort of annoyance that you had when riki smudged the gloss so it escaped the confines of your lips... and riki adored your reaction to it.

you'd always get slightly heated. whining and purposely trying to move away from him so you could apply it in peace. only for him to follow you out, resulting in you being chased around the house.

that was what he was impatient for. that very specific intimacy between you two. as mentioned, he enjoyed the natural occurrence of it. he could never make it happen. it just happened. and when it did, it would set the mood for the rest of the day.

like today.

you were already cautious the moment you saw riki walk into the bathroom in your peripheral. riki would raise his arms in defence. "i'm just looking for my cologne," he'd say, "i put it somewhere here because jake was hounding me for some.

you narrowed your eyes, silently turning back to the mirror and returning to your application. riki was next to you, pretending to rummage through the bathroom drawers. you can't miss the way he slowly rises up from drawers, his eyes fixated on your lips through the mirror.

by the last swipe of your lipgloss, you can already feel and see riki leaning in to mess it up. "nope!" you said, immediately retracting yourself from the bathroom counter, rushing to walk out of the room.

riki was hot on your tail. "oh come on... i'm not doing anything. i just want to spend time with you. is that so bad?" he asked, amusement underlying his voice.

you turned to him, now walking backwards out into the living room. "yes. it is bad when you have that look in your eyes."

riki stepped towards you, eyebrows pulled together in a feigned confusion. "what look?"

"that one. like you're going to eat me or something," you pointed accusingly.

riki rested his hands on his hips, standing in front of you with a slight tilt to his head. he clicked his tongue. he spoke with a nonchalant tone. "because i am."

the moment you see him take a step forward, you're off. you fell into a maze, running around your furniture which riki just inches behind you. you made it to your bedroom, in fits of laughter by this point and about to shut the door on his face.

but you're just a bit too slow.

riki's hand stretched out, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you back into him. you squirmed in his grip while he shifted the both of you to the bed with a soft thud.

"riki," you complained despite the wide smile etching on your face. your head fell to his chest, hair falling around your ears to cover your flushed skin.

a hum fell from his lips as riki's eyes flickered over your face, hand reaching out to push your hair behind your ears after he tilted your face back up. the action seized all the air around you. at least that's what you thought by the feel of your mouth drying.

"i got you," riki quietly teased, grinning at you.

you snapped out of your trance and rolled your eyes. you hit his chest playfully, a soft laugh following after. "let me go."

riki blinked at you, head leaning in towards you. you could feel his hot breath glide past your face. one would think your heart is in your ears by the sound of how loud it is. lips a mere millimetre away from yours, he whispered, "never."

© maeumi-jng | do not copy, post (repost is fine!) or translate anywhere else! thank you ♡︎ requests here!

[gutsby]

Abstaining Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: The only thing worse than an anti-sex retreat is an anti-sex retreat with your former fuckbuddy and dad’s best friend. Especially when sharing one cabin.

Warnings: 18+. IF HE AIN’T GRAYIN’ I AIN’T STAYIN’ 🗣️ [Age gap]. Unprotected p-in-v. Forced proximity. Joel making you fuck just his middle finger when he’s mad. Daddy kink. Overstimulation. First-time squirting. Angst.

Translations: ‘Don’t piss down my back & tell me it’s raining’ is a fun Southern phrase for, ‘Cut the bullshit’ or ‘Don’t lie.’

Sequel to Waiting Game & Hating Game (last rhyme I swear)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

October 26, 2024

Dear Joel,

Roses are red,

We’re a couple of sluts,

Abstinence camp is awful,

I miss you rearranging my guts.

You were just about to put your pen back down to paper and add the finishing touch, signing an equally lascivious farewell, when the letter was snatched out of your hands. A tyrant in khaki capris and an artichoke-colored polo eyed over your words with a pointed look and frowned.

“Letters to the boyfriend have to be G-rated,” Marlene said, crumpling the thing in her fist before chucking it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you returned shortly. Then, “That was actually meant for my dad’s friend.”

You sat tight a moment as the dots came to connect in the woman’s parochial and prudish mind—waiting for the wince of disgust to twitch at the corners of her eyes when she put two and two together. Once it did, you grinned. Even when she plucked the pen out of your hand and told you to sit outside, if you can’t participate in this one simple activity, you smiled bigger and strolled at a comfortable pace out the canteen door.

Anti-sex ‘summer camp’ wasn’t bad at all when you didn’t give a fuck what your counselors told you to do.

It was ridiculous, really. Absurd. Tommy Miller catching you sucking his brother’s dick under the table at your father’s birthday dinner, losing his shit with you both, then threatening to tell your dad everything if you didn’t agree to this stupid retreat and stop seeing each other. You’d barely been trapped in the shithole for twenty-four hours, and you already knew this angle wouldn’t work.

What many of your fellow campers affectionately called the ‘Firefly Fuck-Free Zone’ or the ‘Federal Dickriding Response Agency’ (F.E.D.R.A.) was in fact a secluded enclave south of Austin where khaki-clad monsters forced you to reckon with your sexual urges like one might treat a mutated strain of the Cordyceps fungus. You weren’t meant to keep them for long, and if you did, someone like Marlene would surely shame you for it.

Frankly, Tommy was dumb as shit if he thought this anti-boinking boot camp would have an effect on either one of you—Joel wouldn’t ever bang you again after what happened that night, but it wouldn’t be because of some arts and crafts bullshit he did out on a FEDRA ranch.

He just didn’t want your dad to find out and kill him.

That was a fair concern to have. You didn’t blame him.

Presently, you kicked your feet up on the porch outside the cafeteria, where the rest of the group was finishing up letters to their loved ones—this latest activity was meant to be ‘making amends’ to the people in your life—and you tipped your head back to survey the landscape.

Nothing but sweetgrass and gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Somewhere across the plains there was another cluster of cabins, though you couldn’t quite see it, and someplace within that minuscule cluster, you knew there was a middle-aged man. Dark grey eyebrows furrowed in concentration and chest heaving gently. Likely hunched over an old oak desk about five sizes too small for his frame as he gripped a pen and scribbled:

Dear Tommy,

Fuck you, you fucking fuck.

Sincerely,

Joel

You grinned again just thinking about it.

If anyone had a reason to be ticked off and terrified, it was Joel. And you, you guessed. You still hadn’t gotten your period—but that wasn’t due for another few days.

For now, you’d settled on worrying yourself over what would happen after the retreat had ended; what would you and Joel do once you went back to school? What would become of his life back in Austin with a supremely pissed off brother and a best friend who didn’t know his kid had been fooling around with a man twice her age?

Silently, you thanked your lucky stars Joel’s part of the camp was kept separate from yours, because you didn’t think you’d be able to keep a straight face if you saw him.

The whole thing was sickening, if not slightly funny.

You slipped Joel’s old pack of American Spirits out of your boot and fished in your back pocket for a lighter.

Then you crammed both back when you heard a boom:

“LAKESIDE GUIDED MEDITATION STARTS IN FIVE.”

The tinny intercom rang a deafening pitch in your ears. You clamped a palm over the left side of your head and winced, having forgotten this exercise in mindfulness was supposed to be the last event to wrap up your day. You just wanted to slink back up to your cabin and sleep. Or eat. Or slip your fingers between your aching legs and indulge in some much-needed Joel Miller reminiscing.

Then you recalled how masturbation was also off limits to all would-be sexaholic campers—if there was any time to sneak off and get busy by yourself while your counselors were otherwise occupied, now would be it.

Just as you cast a glance over your shoulder to see if a stealthy exit was even possible, a voice trilled overhead.

“On your feet, skank.”

You looked back fast, and damn did Tess look smug.

Your bunkmate crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, seeming to feel your thoughts before they’d even been fully processed.

“If you skip meditation, I think Marlene’s gonna take you behind the rec and shoot you in the head,” she added.

“How kind.”

“Yeah? Certain death?”

“Better than the dick deprivation,” you grumbled, only half-kidding as you dragged yourself back to your feet.

Theresa Servopoulos was no avid fan of penis herself—she much preferred women when she had her pick of it—but she grinned all the same and clapped a comforting hand over your shoulder before the two of you started walking down the mess hall’s front steps. Then she only laughed a little bit when you almost ate shit treading down the winding rocky trail to the lake and cursed your present lack of intercourse for causing your clumsiness.

“You realize it’s only been, like…a day, right?” she said.

“Might as well be a million,” you muttered, “I feel like I’m never getting laid again.”

“Oh?”

Tess gripped your elbow when a root protruding from the path nearly sent you flying again. She tried not to smile.

“Well…my fake brother’s mad at me for going behind his back and fucking his brother,” you explained, coolly.

Stupidly.

“Wait—you fucked your brother?!”

That stopped Tess in her tracks. The two of you were approaching the cusp of a clearing, just feet away from where the forest gave way to the shoreline of the lake. Folks were already congregating at the water’s edge.

“Any day now, ladies,” Marlene called through cupped hands. Tess was still regarding you with eyes the size of saucers as you traipsed across the way to that voice.

“Not my brother,” you hissed.

“You said your brother’s brother. That makes this guy your brother, too,” Tess whispered—still far too loud.

“Not my actual brother, he’s just— fuck—”

Suddenly, two scraps of red fabric were catapulted in your direction. Tess caught one. You caught the other.

“Tie ‘em over your eyes.” Marlene ordered.

“The fuck?” you mumbled, but ventured nothing more as you were ushered to join the group sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of you. Everyone else was tying bandanas around their eyes like all of this was normal.

“Another trust exercise,” Tess’s voice was low as you dropped your asses one after the other on the sand. Speaking like a seasoned veteran of the anti-sex retreat, she helped you get yours on and shot you one last ‘You-better-not-have-actually-fucked-your-sibling’ look before letting you help her secure her blindfold, too.

Just as Marlene began describing in great detail what this blind, guided meditation in self-love and elemental trust was meant to look like, your friend opted to give voice to her concerns the second the opportunity arose.

Still seated side-by-side, still blind, Tess leaned over.

“Please tell me you’re not here for bangin’ your brother.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

“I am not.”

“Then explain, Cersei!”

Just then, a throat cleared behind you. Evidently another camp counselor at your rear was telling you, wordlessly, to shut the fuck up and listen to the instructions. You and Tess just scooted closer and lowered your voices.

“So this guy, Tommy…he’s been like a big brother to me for years. Worked with my dad and always had my back for the wild shit I did back in high school,” you began.

“Uh-huh.”

“His big brother, Joel, is like…old as shit, but wildly hot.”

“Dangerous combo.”

“And Joel’s my dad’s best friend. Drove me back from college over fall break when he was visiting Boston, we took a little motel detour on the road trip home, and bam—” You snapped your fingers for effect, “We fuck, right?”

“Right.”

“—imagine you’re standing at the edge of a waterfall—”

Marlene couldn’t be serious with this hippy dippy shit. You tuned out the rest of what she said and continued:

“It’s incredible. But the condom busts open at the end—”

“Oh shit.”

“—deep breath in…and release…and again, we—”

“Freak the fuck out, right? I’m poppin’ Plan B like candy.”

“As you should.”

“—hold that breath in right there—”

“A week later, me and Joel hook up at my dad’s birthday party. Only we fuck up, ‘cause Tommy catches us, and—”

This time, the counselor who’d cleared their throat to shut you up took to nudging you both in the back with the toe of their shoe. You straightened up, tilted your head back, and scowled at them through your blindfold.

“Do you mind?” you said, turning in place but unable to see anything behind you. You imagined whoever had just butted in on your conversation was probably frowning. They said nothing in return, just huffed like a child.

“Anyway.” You pivoted back to Tess, “Tommy flips his lid, tells us he’s gonna snitch on us to my dad if we keep fucking around like that, and then he…sends us here.”

You heard your friend fight back a chuckle beside you.

“And abstinence camp is supposed to cure you of this awful disease? Wanting to fuck daddy’s best friend?”

Oddly, you wanted to giggle too. You weren’t sure what was so funny, or why Tess’s tone made you want to say something equally out of pocket and lewd, but then you were leaning over before you could even think twice:

“That old man’s dick is like a fuckin’ drug, dude.”

You wished you could’ve seen her face when you said it. But you didn’t need to catch a single glimpse to know she was grinning big and dumb when she whispered,

“Prehistoric cock must’ve been pretty nice, huh?”

You choked. She snorted. You returned, next, shortly,

“Best senior citizen schlong I’ve had in my life.”

You weren’t sure which one of you burst out laughing first. Maybe Tess. Probably you. Either way, both of your sides were splitting in seconds, as the ridiculous and just marginally offensive descriptors for Joel’s dick trembled at the tips of your tongues. You felt like a teenager again, telling your friend your filthiest desires for the DILF-next-door—except this time, you’d actually fucked him. Small perks to seeking out middle-aged men in your twenties. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to rein in the peals of laughter as Tess wheezed quietly beside you.

Then you felt hands.

Two palms under your armpits, yanking you up.

You stumbled back, graceless and still staving off half a laugh as your back struck the counselor’s chest.

“Just…take her back up.” You heard a female’s voice to your left, low and not sounding particularly amused.

Take you where? Was this the part where Marlene dragged you behind the rec and shot you in the head?

About damn time.

Whoever had grabbed you grunted in acknowledgment. You swayed in their arms, trying to regain better footing, but the grip tightened up in a second and thrust you sideways. You staggered, cursing your captor.

“Fucker,” you hissed.

Fucker said nothing.

Their hands slipped from your pits to one of your wrists, leading you away from the lake in long strides. You were moving so fast you scarcely had the chance to pull the blindfold back, so you just kept walking. Marching.

“Can you slow the fuck down, please?”

You imagined the face of the person leading you forward might’ve twisted in a scowl. Their lips didn’t stir, though.

In a matter of minutes, your feet were crunching on the flat, gravelly terrain you knew to lay under the cabins. This person was leading you back. Likely to throw you off to your room in the next several moments—but not before ripping you a new one for disrupting the peace back down at the lake. You weren’t stoked to hear it.

“Alright, just—” You tripped as you were led up the rickety steps, cursing again, “—just leave me right here.”

A set of knuckles at your spine thrust you forward.

“No? Okay. Fine. Whatever.”

You shook your head as you entered the cabin and heard footsteps follow you in. It occurred to you then that now was probably a good time to take off the blindfold.

Before you could, though, it was ripped off for you.

“Pack your shit.”

Dude.

You spun on your heels.

“DUDE!”

Your eyes moved up the very khaki shorts you despised, the puke-colored polo, the neatly embroidered camp logo, and a nametag strangely labeled ‘Lucien Flores.’ Everything in the ensemble screamed ‘camp counselor.’ But the face above it—it wasn’t one of their own at all.

It was far too lax. Fresh with an easy, shit-eating grin.

“Sweetheart—”

He started to speak, only to get the wind knocked out of his chest when you threw your arms around him.

The barrage of kisses came without you ever really intending to place them at all. You were just so stunned, practically overcome with joy to see Joel Miller in all his ruggedly handsome glory, then confused. What was he doing here, and why was he dressed head-to-toe as a counselor? And why were you so into that on him?

You doubted you could even ask the questions, and he was barely more able to answer the longer you stayed latched to his neck, kissing him everywhere your mouth could get to. You’d just stood on tip-toes to press your lips to his when you realized he wasn’t reaching back.

His hands hung limply at his sides. Still, he smiled.

“Abstinence camp ain’t taught ya much, has it?”

You parted your lips to drag your teeth along the grey-spattered scruff on his cheek—biting but not quite. Begging him to kiss you back, grab your ass, anything to quell this anguish twisting low in your stomach at the lack of contact. Joel didn’t seem keen on answering to it.

“I’ve learned plenty, Miller,” you panted against his jaw, before moving below it to sink into the skin of his neck, “Lemme show you all the stuff FEDRA told us not to do.”

Yes, you sounded desperate. No, you didn’t really care. You were much too busy fiddling with the front of Joel’s shorts to concern yourself with anything but his cock. It made it all the more gut-wrenchingly horrific and disconcerting when you felt his hands push yours away.

“No,” Joel said, simply. Then, nodding to your luggage at the foot of your bunk, “Pack your stuff, sweets. C’mon.”

He was seriously trying to break you out?

You admired the cojones on the man, but you wanted to fuck real quick to get it out of your system. Needed it.

“Joel, I—” You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.

What your mouth couldn’t finish, your eyes said clear as day: I want you to take me right here. Quick and dirty. But, again, Joel seemed completely impervious to your pleas. Almost callous in the face of such a desperate request made from your eyes to his. He moved over toward your suitcase when you didn’t want to budge.

Luckily for you, you’d never unpacked. All that was left were the clothes on your back and a water bottle on the nightstand. Joel grabbed the latter and turned around to snag the suitcase on his way to the door, when he was met with you. Obstructing his path and frowning a little.

“Joel?” You raised a brow.

“Mm?”

The man in front of you straightened up, rolling a nonexistent kink from his neck before regarding you.

His gaze was alarmingly sedate.

“Y’know, you’ve got quite the knack for makin’ shit difficult—”

“Just a quickie, Miller—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ you here!”

The sudden boom of his voice should’ve startled you. But then a broad, warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, and Joel’s expression dropped immediately. There was still a tightness to it, somewhere deep within, and you couldn’t quite work out why he seemed so…off.

Then you caught sight of something steely in his gaze.

It just might’ve clicked if Joel didn’t reach for your face and elucidate things for you himself, eyes narrowing.

“I know my old man dick is like a fuckin’ drug and all…”

Shit.

Cheeks squished between his two big hands, you had only to stare. And blink. And silently regret being so loud when you were talking to Tess before. It didn’t look good.

“Joel—”

“No, no, my senile brain must be mistaken—it was actually that prehistoric cock that did it for ya.”

Your face heated with shame. You blinked again.

But just as you tried to shake your head between Joel’s hands, he pressed his palms tighter and drew you closer.

“Senior. citizen. schlong?” he intoned, painfully slow.

“Joel, I just—”

“Need to fuck someone your own age, it sounds like.”

The man in front of you released your face just as fast as he’d grabbed it, and when he stepped back, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of desperation. That wasn’t what you’d meant! It sounded so puerile and cruel coming out of his lips like this, but you had to tell him it was a joke.

“It was a joke.”

No time to mince words now.

“Real fuckin’ comedic genius,” Joel snorted.

He rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep you, but you mirrored the movement. When your hands flew to his chest to keep him from moving, please, just listen to me, Joel, he pretended not to hear it, or feel it, against him.

“Alright. Enough,” he muttered, “‘S’time to go home.”

“No!”

“No?”

“No.”

For the first time, you saw Joel’s nostrils flare. You pressed into his sternum again, hoping to hold him in place so you could explain yourself, but it seemed he wasn’t planning on staying stationary. Joel dropped to your bunk—or Tess’s, technically—and situated himself comfortably on the bed before shooting you a look. You barely had had a moment’s time to contemplate your next move when he yanked you onto the cot with him.

Joel didn’t try to kiss you. He didn’t attempt to remove one article of clothing from your body or his. He just sat there, staring, while you straddled his hips staring back.

“If you wanna fuck me so bad, go right ahead,” he said, motioning indistinctly in front of him, “Be my guest.”

When you stilled, he added, “That is all y’want, right?”

With your palms laying flat on his chest and a head full of conflicting thoughts—you did want to bang him, obviously, but not before you’d gotten a chance to set things straight, not when he was looking at you like this—you chewed your bottom lip. Certainly you couldn’t continue while Joel still believed you were embarrassed by his age, his lips downturned and humorless as ever.

“C’mon,” he tried again, a touch more venom laced in his words as he spoke, “Show me how much ya want it.”

You needed time to think.

“Why are you…dressed like this?” you said, stalling.

But Joel wouldn’t be kind enough to give you that time.

“Stole the uniform so I could sneak out and over here and get you out. Are we gonna fuck now or what?”

His hands moved over your own to guide them to his lower half, just above where your clothed core was touching his. Your fingers moved mechanically, almost reluctantly, to undo the button and zip of his shorts.

Was that a flash of hurt you saw in his eyes?

You’d never been good at this communication bullshit. Neither had Joel. The two of you would probably just have sex now to hash out your feelings, as was par for the course for a pair of emotionally stunted individuals. It still pained you to see him look at you like that, though.

“Tess and me were just kidding, baby.”

You palmed the bulge in his boxers and heard him grunt. When you nudged his cock out of the fabric to stroke him, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a breath.

“I would never say those things to hurt you,” you added.

“Didn’t hurt me none,” Joel returned instantly. Then, feeling you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, he exhaled and held his face firm in place. Like he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him.

You let go of his cock to take off your socks and shoes. Then your top. Then your shorts. Then you slid down his body a little, unsure if this was the time to be trying something new. Or even doing this kind of stuff at all.

At first, you just sort of lowered yourself to Joel’s groin, his dick resting comfortably between your tits. Then you started to move, and your hands were cupping either side of your breasts to push inward on his member. Before you even fully knew what you were doing, you were squeezing Joel’s dick with the soft, supple flesh and stroking him gently. Gaze glued to him all the while.

His eyes cracked open to catch you watching him. Evidently, Joel couldn’t contain all of his reactions, because he audibly groaned when you got going.

Sliding your tits up and down his shaft, feeling him pulse between them. Sensing a warmth pool in your own lower half but being too focused, and slightly ashamed, to act. You just wanted to make Joel feel good, even if your words weren’t able to do the trick with apologizing.

“Come here,” you beckoned him with just one finger as you slid off the bed, to the floor. Joel sat up, and you kneeled obediently between his legs. The two of you shared a tense, sexless look for a second before you lowered yourself back down and resumed the position.

This time, Joel could—and did—stir his hips to create some friction between your tits. His brow pinched inward with a muted concentration, and you wanted to say it looked handsome on him, that you were sorry for saying those stupid things to Tess and making him doubt your affection for him, but you kept your mouth shut. You had to remind yourself that emotions had no place between two needy, unfeeling people who just wanted to fuck.

Maybe that was how it should’ve been from the start.

But watching Joel’s face twist and contort in pleasure nearly wiped the thought clean out of your brain forever.

You felt many things for him, whether you liked it or not.

You really wished you hadn’t said the things you’d said.

Joel braced his hands at the edge of the bed on either side of him, hips working a steady pace to fuck your tits. He was staring mostly at the spot where the head of his cock was poking up through your cleavage with each thrust, entranced by the sight, and in a second, a full-throated moan was fighting its way out of his chest. He spit in his hand and paused to smear the stuff on his shaft, on your tits. Spit again and rubbed even harder.

Seeing him so cold and detached, you wanted to apologize again. Maybe beg him to say something kind.

Instead, you mumbled, “I love it when you fuck my tits.”

Joel scarcely acknowledged the remark, just letting you work yourself over him, meet his shallow thrusts, look sweet and wait patiently for him to cum all over you. When it seemed he might be ready to do it, though, Joel withdrew from you the next second and moved back on the bed. He pulled you into his lap, straddling again, but this time situated over the side of the bed—him sitting up, you perched on the flat, sturdy expanse of his thighs facing him. In the space between your bodies, Joel slid a quiet and almost careless hand to your heat, flicking the sheer fabric of your panties to the side in one go.

The moment his fingers made contact, you flinched.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to his touch, you just felt unfairly balanced in this situation. Joel appeared so stoic; you, a complete and utter wreck. Fighting fifteen different emotions at once and feeling unusually vulnerable spread open to him now, you almost didn’t register what he was doing—or what his hand might find.

Joel’s groan brought you back, though. When he rubbed his knuckles over the seam of your cunt and practically choked out twice his lung’s capacity, you had to look.

Aloof as he tried to be, the man’s desire was painted all over his expression. And his crotch. And his hand.

Well, actually, that last bit of arousal was yours.

“Fuckin’ soakin’ me, sweetie,” Joel breathed.

You perked up at the term of endearment. Watching one glistening fist of his make its way back and forth against your body, smearing sticky wet pleasure all over your mound and your folds, you found yourself gnawing your lip once more, this time for entirely different reasons.

Joel seemed to soften—even if only for a glaring carnal need, you didn’t care. You sank into this gentler touch.

“Khakis kinda suit you, Miller,” you said, off-handed.

Really, Joel looked almost as comical as he was sexy in that camp counselor getup: tan shorts stretched tight over even tanner legs, polyester top sitting pretty on wide, hulking shoulders, that silly stitched logo for the camp emblazoned over his left pec, and, of course, the nametag that didn’t belong to him but to Lucien. The whole thing was so alien to his lumberjack-chic demeanor that he nearly seemed boyish. Endearing. Some spearmint-scented hottie you might’ve had a crush on at camp years ago. You couldn’t help but smile.

Joel tried not to hold your gaze for too long.

“Don’t go pissin’ down my back and tell me it’s rainin’.”

When he slid one finger to your entrance, you tensed again, but smiled just the same and let out a breath. You felt him prod at the warm, wet skin and thumb at your clit, and something told you that he’d wanted to grin too.

“I’m serious,” you said, “Scout’s hon—ohfuckfuckfuck.”

Joel pushed one finger inside you. In spite of the ease with which he slipped between your walls, that gentle sensation made it wonderfully snug. He gripped your hip and started moving his single digit in and out, and in spite of yourself, you squirmed a bit. Joel never failed to call you out for doing that; today would be no different.

“Easy, sweet pea,” he hummed when you jumped again.

But you couldn’t help it. Your hands quickly anchored themselves to Joel’s shoulders, your legs spread wider, and your hips started stirring—bucking, really—against each teasing touch. It was still just one thick finger of his.

You glanced down and saw that it was his middle finger, in particular. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you.

“Another,” you pleaded.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re a mean ol— mean man.” You tried to correct course when you felt a mention of ‘old’ slip back into your vernacular, and inwardly, you cringed at your words.

Joel had already heard it. He cocked one eyebrow.

“Mean ol’ man?” he scoffed, still fingerfucking you softly. When you bucked against it, he nodded as if to say ‘fair enough.’

Then, before you could chime in, he nodded some more.

His expression was hard.

“Fuck my hand,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You weren’t quite sure what he meant for you to do. When he nodded a third time, the gesture was accompanied by a quick dart of his eyes to the place where your cunt was being penetrated by his one finger. He curled the finger inward, and when you twitched at the hot throb of pleasure that followed, he grunted.

Fuck my hand.

Nails still searing tiny half-moons into his shoulders, you acted more out of impulse than by command. The look from Joel sure didn’t hurt, though. The second you started rolling your hips, he nodded again. Holding onto his praises for now and simply showing approbation.

“Like that,” he murmured.

All you were doing was rocking back and forth over his finger, whimpers percolating quietly in your chest, but the act alone made you feel desperate. And Joel smug.

It was like he wanted to see you getting off to this one, comparatively smaller part of him without being filled. Bucking plaintively to find that fullness and coming back empty every time. Your whimpers turned into whines.

“Need more,” you keened.

“Yeah?” Joel replied gently.

“Yeah.”

A beat, then:

“Tough shit.”

But he said it so goddamn sweet you had to do a double take to make sure you’d heard him correctly. When you met Joel’s eyes, you saw a hint of amusement lingering behind them. Then he squeezed your hip again and started helping you move into his hand, up and down.

“Only givin’ more fingers to good girls, y’hear?” he said.

“What about your cock?” You couldn’t help it.

Joel just breathed out through his nose. In a second, he went from camp counselor to disapproving father figure.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?”

That was all he needed to say, but the firm plunge of his middle finger certainly put a finer point on it. He curled the digit again and, upon grazing that spongy surface inside you, saw another desperate plea in your eyes.

And pleasure.

The pleasure ran almost as intense as the desperation.

Your head fell back when Joel got to making those ‘come hither’ motions again and again, thumb circling your clit, eyes trained on your figure with a marked concern. Like the prospect of not drawing an orgasm out of you in the next two minutes might very well ruin the man’s night.

“‘S’alright, honey,” Joel said quietly.

Then, finding your gaze when your head tilted back,

“Be a good girl and let go for me. Let go for daddy, hm?”

Fortunately for him, that one low hum and another flick of his middle finger and thumb were all you needed to find your release. You came on his hand with a sharp, pitiful cry and a ‘Fuckthatfeelssogooddaddyplease,’ hips working feverishly against his hand as you rode out your high. The sight of you bouncing up and down on his open palm and the way your eyes rolled back, begging him to fuck you full of his cock next, felt wildly obscene.

Joel loved obscene. Needed obscene. Hot. Febrile. Raw.

He nodded again.

Before you’d even descended fully from those staggering heights, his finger was moving too—joined by two more. Joel stuffed his index and ring fingers inside your still-pulsing hole and pretended not to hear your soft cry.

After all, you’d asked for more before. Joel was just sating your desire; your overwrought body would be fine.

“Joel,” you hissed, seizing his wrist.

“Too much?” he returned.

You tried to verbalize some answer but were cut short by a punishing stretch—all three fingers plunging in and out of your sensitive, drooling cunt and making it full of him.

“Too soon?” he tried again.

“I—”

“Too fast?”

“N—”

“Too…old?” Joel pressed after a beat.

There was an air of feigned condescension in his tone as he took on a faster pace gliding his thick, calloused fingers between your walls. You might’ve screamed if you hadn’t found your forehead pressed to his and the warmth of his irises boring into yours while he did it all. At this distance, you could discern a trace of hurt again. Something needing to be soothed inside Joel Miller.

You rutted your hips and shook your head, skull still stuck to his as you did so. Whimpers coming low.

“I didn’t…mean it,” you managed at length.

“What? That I’m ‘old as shit but wildly hot’?”

Joel wedged his fingers straight down to the knuckle and nearly tore a shriek out of your body. His eyes were surprisingly soft. Making sure your pleasure was all there.

“Hyperbole,” you choked, voice hoarse.

Then your jaw grew lax when a hand cupped your chin. All you wanted to do was melt into Joel, but you sensed something brewing again behind those honeyed eyes. Blinking was all you could do to keep your composure.

“You’re right, darlin’,” Joel said, “I am too old for you.”

Right after a clench in your tummy, a hurried word leapt up to your tongue, ‘NO!’ and you had to swallow a moan to keep from succumbing to the pleasure Joel was bringing with his fingers. Sandwiched between two orgasms was no time for a serious argument to take place, but there you were, fighting against it anyway.

“N-No,” you stammered. Stupid.

“I am.” His voice came softer somehow, more resigned.

When outright rejection of the claim seemed futile, you tried to pivot. Climax still closing in as fast as ever.

“I don’t care about that,” you hissed, exhaling hard when the first ripples of bliss crept up toward your stomach.

Joel watched you with careful eyes.

“Yeah? And Tess?”

“Joel—”

“Or Tommy.”

“I don’t—”

“Everyone else?”

Almost against your will, those minuscule ripples turned to waves of full-blown euphoria, and then you were clenching again on Joel’s hand and crying out in climax. You willed your gaze not to stray from his, but it was tough. Especially when the eyes beneath your own seemed so fucking morose and removed from you.

Don’t do this to me, Miller. Don’t do it, don’t do it.

In the wake of what should’ve been consummate satisfaction, you found yourself retreating to a place more akin to starvation—suddenly eager to get your mouth over his and start kissing, tonguing, and scraping your teeth like you’d missed out on a full week’s worth of meals. Feeling selfish but also uncertain how else to proceed—was Joel Miller breaking up with you here?

You couldn’t be sure, because he kissed you back. Joel kissed you and cupped your cheeks, then chased your frame all the way down to the coarse, scratchy sheets of the bed, where he was quick to climb on top of you.

Hell, it seemed breathing was too tough to accomplish with your frenzied pace and the continuous stream of open-mouthed kisses placed anywhere and everywhere. A groan from Joel trembled between your lips as you helped him get his shorts and boxers the rest of the way down his legs—all but dragging them with your heels—and he tightened a fist in your hair when they were off.

“I shouldn’t’a come here,” he mumbled.

“But you did,” you panted.

Both of you got lost in another onslaught of kisses, and you tried not to sigh. Joel was still battling something.

Even as he peeled your panties off and lined himself up with your entrance, he seemed resolved to stay quiet. Holding your gaze and not saying what had to be said.

He was a lot like you in that way.

You kept kissing him anyway.

The events that followed seemed to you little more than fleeting, happy scenes from a film you’d always wanted to see—an eager Joel, a caring Joel, an I-don’t-think-I’m-physically-capable-of-holding-you-any-closer Joel. The weight of his cock a welcome friend and the kisses somehow far too intimate to be considered friendly at all. You’d almost forgotten you were at a camp designed to prevent this very thing from happening between two stupid, impulsive people like you, and you didn’t care.

All you knew was a yawning stretch—that aching, empty void filled to perfection by Joel’s member—and the shockwaves of pleasure that vibrated in bands all the way down to the balls of your feet. You felt safe and secure caged between two muscular arms, and you reveled in a warmth that spanned every inch of your body touching his. The weight suffocating and somehow not oppressive; Joel cradled your head to make sure of it.

“Ain’t…hurtin’ ya, am I?” he said when you winced.

You shook your head against his sweaty palms to say that he wasn’t; you were just adjusting. He scanned your face for any trace of insincerity but found nothing.

In this tender position, your brain was ready to burst—whether from guilt, shame, ruthless self-loathing, or a sobering sense of closeness, you weren’t sure. All four seemed to form the impetus for the words that came next, which were soft, repeated apologies against Joel’s mouth. He swallowed each one without a second thought.

“Quit sayin’ it,” he rasped, low.

“I’m sorry, Joel, I’m sorr—”

Soft lips again. ‘S’okay, honey.’

You weren’t sure why, but your face felt extra hot.

Joel pressed his thumbs on either side of it while he kissed you and went deeper. Then he squeezed even more, and your breath hitched quietly in your throat.

Aw, shit, he could probably feel your heart running amok in your chest and thrumming like crazy right now.

“Ain’t nothin’—” Joel paused to send one measured thrust along your cervix, “—to be sorry for. Nothin’.”

Your legs tightened at his sides when his hips started to snap in quick, stuttered motions, desperate for more friction and depth. He got both, and he groaned feeling you tighten around him as he filled your cunt to the brim. The silky warmth of your walls drawing him in was almost too much, and every now and then he’d have to slow to mutter some, ‘’S’fuckin’ chokin’ me, honey, ya feel that?’ or ‘This pussy’s just made to take me, huh?’

Joel asked like he actually needed the reassurance. As if the slick, dripping arousal coating his length and the sounds of your whimpers mixed in with those wet slaps weren’t enough—as if he had to have deeper consolation.

He was splitting you open and looked guilty as he did it.

Still shaking with each thrust, you helped him slide his shirt over his head and bring him bare, chest-to-chest with you. You couldn’t ignore the tension any longer.

“Joel, I fuckin’ love— I need you inside,” you managed.

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

His face softened.

“‘S’mine, isn’t it?”

He said it so fast you couldn’t make out if it were really a question or a simple statement of fact. His balls routinely smacking your ass, eyes searching yours, always gentle.

“Say that you’re mine.”

No, Joel—don’t do that, don’t say it like that.

Your visceral reaction was to recoil. You couldn’t because he had you pinned, but damn did you want to—not him, not this, not now, Joel, why would you fucking say that?

The look in his eyes now surpassed the hurt from before. It was open and aching, even as he drilled your body in two at a near-ruthless pace. Asking you so sincerely.

The obstinacy inside you was almost laughable. Damn near sent your head spinning in a fit of hysterics at how much you wanted to say but wouldn’t; how much you sensed lay waiting to fly off Joel’s tongue but couldn’t. If you were any more emotionally pent-up you might’ve ruptured a blood vessel and lost all ability to think.

It didn’t help that you were both about to cum.

Or that Joel’s right hand was fumbling for your clit.

His expression was steady as ever when you jumped, made a whining noise below him, and grabbed his wrist. You looked down to where your bodies were joined and got a dizzying glimpse of that sight: cunt swallowing Joel’s cock repeatedly, pleasure pooling between your two bodies, then a digit at that little bundle of nerves.

He kissed your hairline and hummed.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Whose pussy is this?”

His thrusts sped up, along with his thumb.

“Don’t.” Not an answer but a warning: tread lightly, Joel.

He kissed your forehead again. And again. For a second you thought he might stay that way until you both came, but then his lips were finding yours, mumbling softly,

“Say no one’s gonna fuck you but me.”

“But—”

“None of those pencil-dick douchebag Delta Sigma whatever-the-fuck ya call ‘ems—” Joel continued, unfazed, “—not your lab partner, not your hallmate—”

His cock was gliding in and out of you at a punishing pace now. Wonderfully slick with sounds obscenely piercing to your ears. You could feel Joel digging in the depths of your tight, throbbing cunt, could see his expression contort with much the same pleasure you were experiencing yourself, and could very well smell the faint aroma of American Spirits still staining his breath. Joel Miller was a sick fuck for what he was doing to you, and he knew it. You nipped at his lower lip in between tender kisses and quietly-spoken words, and whimpered.

“—not your TAs, not your professors—” he pressed on.

You opened your mouth to let a lewd moan escape when Joel lifted his hand to shove a thumb inside. Instinctively, you sucked the whole thing straight down to the knuckle.

“Nobody but me, y’hear that?” Afforded better leverage with his finger wedged between your teeth, he shook your head a little as he fucked you. Watched you bob and nod a wordless ‘yes’ in doe-eyed complaisance while his cock drove shockwaves of pleasure straight through you.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth, and you let him.

You drooled all over that man’s finger like it might’ve been supplying oxygen to your lungs, and when Joel leaned in and said, ‘Ya like that, sweet pea?’, you answered in the affirmative. Or at least as close as you could get while Joel was filling up his two favorite holes.

Your orgasm was maybe two strokes away from shattering bones, it seemed. Now was his chance.

Swiftly, Joel retracted his touch just far enough to drag a string of saliva out of your mouth—then deliver a taut but gentle slap to your cheek. The soft thwack, combined with the sounds your bodies were making down below, served only to elevate the pornographic pitch of your moan:

“Joel!”

“That’s right.”

Joel’s mouth hovered an inch over yours, half-smirking, as if waiting to suck the words clean off of your lips. You whined when his thrusts got quicker and the mouth that was grinning got to kissing your own again. Talking dirty, too.

“Show me who this cunt belongs to. Say it,” he grunted.

You clenched, kissed him back, were just barely aware of the words you were trying to form when you stuttered some unintelligible, ‘Y-Y—ohfuckdaddyjustlikethatoh—’

Oh.

Your eyes widened to Joel’s, and before you could even begin to process what was happening to your body, his name just snapped off your tongue like a shot. A shriek. Some blissfully half-strangled moan that Joel captured between his teeth as he fucked you into the mattress and held your body tight to his own. His palm was wet.

Your legs were wet.

The soft, heaving juncture between your bodies was wet.

You were only dimly aware of the sensation as you dug your heels in Joel’s back and let out a series of cries and moans, but then that fluttering feeling inside made you flinch. A pulsing between your thighs and a…warmth.

You were still blinking through a post-euphoric haze when you felt a soft heat simmer and sink within you.

Did Joel just…cum inside you? Again?

“You dumb motherfucker,” you hissed without hesitation.

You’d just managed to shove him away—not far, but away—when you scrambled into a sitting position and slapped a hand over your stomach. Expecting to feel a churning and an awful pinch as you came to make out some vague sensation of Joel’s seed painting your insides, you were surprised when you didn’t get it at all.

In point of fact, Joel had just sprayed a full Jackson Pollock onto your stomach and was blinking, still fisting his cock as you quickly made your way back to your feet.

Where was that wetness coming from?

You stood and stared down at your stomach. Your legs. The translucent, trickling something that had paved a clear path between your thighs and all over Joel’s front. It didn’t make sense, unless—

“You fuckin’ squirted!” Joel cheered.

Your first instinct was to make a face.

That shit only happened in poorly produced pornos and movies based on books by Colleen Hoover, not real-life human beings. What the hell was this man on about?

“Be fucking serious,” you scowled, reaching for a stray shirt on the floor. Before realizing it was even yours, you hastily swiped several big globs of Joel’s cum with it. Your face grew even more enflamed, and yourself, oddly…ashamed. You couldn’t quite make sense of why Joel was grinning so big, or why you felt so embarrassed by what appeared to be a natural bodily function, but you suspected it probably had something to do with the state of sex education in Texas. Those fuckers definitely skipped squirting in favor of abstinence-only rhetoric.

Still weird. Still gross. You wished Joel would stop smiling.

“Lose the look or I’ll slap that fuckin’ grey off your head.”

Admittedly, neither aftercare nor communication was your métier. You started throwing on clothes, annoyed.

Meanwhile, Joel was swiping moisture off his abdomen three thick fingers at a time and wiggling the residue up for you to see—‘All it is is a sign of good lovin’, sweets, ain’t nothin’a be ashamed of!’—and you gave him just one finger in return. You were sliding your shorts up your legs and attempting to scrap the jizz off your FEDRA top when Joel started shrugging on his stolen clothes, too.

Your back was turned to him, eyes scanning the almost too-calm outdoors through the window a minute later, when you felt an arm snake close around your waist.

“Tastes a little like honey,” Joel crooned in your ear, doubtlessly smirking as he swayed you, “Only sweeter.”

You rolled your eyes. No cunt tasted like a honeycomb.

And you tried to say as much when he stroked over the strip of exposed skin between your shorts and the hem of your shirt, squeezing you tighter, but Joel was too good. He spidered a teasing touch over your tummy and yanked you back into his chest when you squealed and tried to break free. Then your sides, your ribcage, your shoulder blades—anyplace Joel could tickle, he tried to—and most spots, you were squeamish as hell. You clamped a hand over your half-open, giggling mouth, and when you felt him flip you around, you didn’t protest.

Suddenly, Joel’s hands were on either side of your face. He wasn’t smiling quite so big anymore but nevertheless maintained a kind glint behind his eyes. They were soft.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

Then, pausing as if to consider his words, he said,

“You did great.”

He stopped again to press a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“So good.”

When he saw another smile twitch at the corners of your lips, as though asking him for more, he kissed those too.

“If that was your first time with…that…I’m, uh…”

“What?”

Another beat. Another stupid, stubbled grin.

“The luckiest…senior citizen sonovabitch, I guess.”

At the tail end of that, and once Joel had punctuated his sentence with another tender peck, you met his gaze again. Somehow, it had only gotten softer. His thumbs were searing the gentlest of imprints in the apples of your cheeks, his breaths were even and warm, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought the man was contemplating saying something else to you then.

He didn’t.

The bridge to an old Billy Joel song made sure of that.

“And when she’s walkin’, she’s lookin’ so f-i-i-i-ine.”

You heard gravel crunch outside the cabin.

“And when she’s talkin’, she’ll say that she’s m-i-i-i-ine.”

Footsteps bounding up the half-rotted, cedar steps.

“She’ll say I’m not so tough just because I’m in love wi—SHIT.”

Tess’s face went blank the second the door swung open.

Thankfully, both of you were clothed. You and Joel leapt apart like she’d just caught you in doggy, though. And Tess looked like she might’ve seen an asscheek or two with the way she was staring at you both, letting the screen door slam shut, and a wordless ‘what-the-fuck’ caught somewhere in the tepid air between you three.

You stared at Tess, and Tess stared at you. Joel peered over her shoulder for the arrival of any more onlookers or folks just wanting to sing ‘Uptown Girl’ in your general vicinity. Fortunately, no one else appeared behind her.

But Tess looked awestruck enough for fifty people. She blinked and visibly swallowed as her gaze shifted to Joel.

“So FEDRA does dick appointments now?” she hissed.

“No!”

“I’m not—”

“He’s from the other camp.”

“You’re shitting me. Absolutely shitting me right now.”

You brought both hands to your face in a stifling, quiet desperation, unsure what to do. Joel just blinked back.

“I’m—we’re—” he started.

“Fucking!” Tess bit back, “You are so fucking. Raw.”

She wasn’t wrong. Her sixth sense for knowing who was having clandestine sex in her bed was kind of insane.

But, where you expected a look of horror to crawl into those taut, too-smart-for-her-own-good features, you found your bunkmate starting to raise her eyebrows.

Then laugh.

Tess threw her head back and laughed because she thought you were boinking a FEDRA camp counselor.

Joel shared a similar look of surprise but didn’t laugh.

“Yeah, I’m uh…J—” Again, he made as if to speak, to introduce himself, but Tess cut him off. About to wheeze.

“Lucien Flores, you dirty dog!” she cackled.

Joel glanced down at his nametag, started to shake his head, and probably didn’t anticipate Tess smacking him on the shoulder in a semi-congratulatory sort of way. Given a little more muscle to the playful punch, she just might’ve knocked him over. Joel was then trying to pry the pin off his polo just as you stepped closer to her.

“Tess, he’s…” You considered spilling the beans en masse but quickly decided against it. You’d have to stick to the barest of bones if you had any hope of escaping this place. So, resuming, you squeezed her arm and just said:

“Flores is gonna bust us out. Get your shit and we’ll go.”

Theresa Servopoulos didn’t need to be told twice.

And when she scrambled over to her sex-stricken bunk, inquired with a hurried but patently grossed out expression about who the fuck had wet the bed while she was gone, Joel didn’t hesitate—he said it was him.

“FEDRA man with a piss kink. I like you already, Lucien.”

[dadsbongos]

giving minimum wage clerk laios sloppy

3.1 k words / warnings - oral sex, hand jobs, public but it isn't focused on, you call laios 'good boy', not proofread

summary - you flirt with your coworker laios and suck him off in an alley outside

~~~

Laios slumps against the bag racks after returning the pharmacy key up front, prompting you to be nosey and ask,

“What’d he need?”

“Condoms.”

“Oh.”

“Right? I don’t get why they’re so shy about it,” Laios yawns, squeezing his eyes shut to revel in the sweet resulting burn, “It's worse to go in unprotected.”

“For sure,” you hadn’t meant oh as in oh, you’d meant oh as in oh because you don’t want Laios to talk about condoms. Him talking about condoms will make you think of him using one, which is only going to fluster you.

“He also wanted Plan B.”

“Crazy.”

He yawns again, then letting his head droop while bracing himself against the end of your lane. Arms pin straight and (mostly) visible, since all he’s wearing is a black Tee. Past the edges of his store apron is red vinyl, crackled from no doubt years of wear and wash. He’d shown up with a hoodie, which is strange because it’s the middle of summer, and no matter how hard you pray: the nighttime provides little relief. Either way, you’re glad to see he hasn’t snuck it on -- his arms look so much better bare.

“You tired?” a stupid question on your part.

Thankfully, Laios is your favorite coworker for a reason. He earnestly answers with a weary nod and quiet, “Yeah.”

“Poor thing,” you sit against the divot to your left, where your own set of bags rests and perch your chin in your hand, “How come? Usually you don’t get the sleepies until ten.”

And again, if it were anyone but Laios, you’d be mortified to have let that tidbit slip.

Laios perks up, scrambling for his phone as he speaks, “I was finishing that red dragon set.”

“Jeez,” you lean forward as he holds up a picture of the completed plastic array of knock off Legos; more affordable and just as dependable, “You did that all last night?”

“Took four hours, but it was worth it.”

“I thought you were gonna complete it on your weekend.”

“I was, but then, look!” he swipes over the screen before shoving it back into your face, “A winged lion!”

“Oh, cool,” when you feel that’s too bland, you add, “Isn’t that the final piece in your Griffin set?”

“Technically,” he grumbles, “I hate how they called it the Griffin set. Only one of them is a Griffin. This is just a hybrid, and the other one’s a Hippogriff. But it still looks super cool, and the instructions are way longer than any of the other ones.”

Laios looks up from where you were supposed to be staring at his screen, finding that you’re instead watching him with a stupid smile on your face. Your cheeks heat up at being caught. Just before you can stutter out an excuse, though, Laios is speaking again,

“Awesome, right?”

“Very,” you confirm with a nod.

“I’ll have to move some stuff so I can display it on my desk properly. I just have no idea where,” he pockets his phone, rolling his head onto his shoulder, “I’d have Marcille or Chil’ help but they’ll probably just tell me to trash it all.”

“Aw, I’m sure they wouldn’t! They're your friends.”

“Right. They just…”

“They tease a little too hard.”

“Exactly.”

“You can say something, you know?”

“It’s easier to just ignore,” he shrugs.

You open your mouth to retort, to encourage him to tell his friends off, but a demon beats you to it.

“Well, don’t you two look bored!” all warm fondness freezes in your chest the minute an approaching middle-aged man says that, “Break time’s over!”

Another reason Laios is your favorite is that he doesn’t find those jabs funny. You even heard that back when he first started, he’d reply to those remarks with stern sincerity. Now in his ancient wisdom, he just lets you blankly stare the man down. With clerks like Doni, you feel a pressure to at least feign a smile lest he overcompensate by actually fake-laughing.

You suffer down the interaction with as few words as you can get away with before bidding the man a goodnight.

“I hope he crashes,” you sneer, flipping open the silver cap of your change dispenser and confirming your coins can go a little longer before being filled.

Laios hums halfheartedly -- long now used to your aggro behavior towards customers you don’t like, and no longer prone to bouts of wide-eyed horror. His head is turned towards the doors, gaze lazily flicking over self-checkout to assess if anyone that way needs assistance.

You take the moment to assess him. Neck stretched and lashes beating his cheeks with every heavy blink. His lips are pressed firm, likely subconscious, and from the quirk in his hip you can tell he’s got a leg crossed over the other.

Breaking you from the study, Laios bellows another exhausted huff.

Before you can cast a cursory glance towards the clock on your screen, your supervisor is chirping from beside you, “Last break!”

So it must be nine.

God, two more hours of this? Laios sounds ready to collapse.

After signing off in order for Kabru to hop onto the register, you slip between the little gap where checkout lanes end and SCO begins. Opening one of the grab-n-go fridges with trepidation.

Does he even like energy drinks?

You’re almost certain you’ve seen him mull over them at least once… before ultimately deciding to not buy one…

He definitely doesn’t like coffee. You recall him telling Kabru the bitter taste was off-putting enough, never mind how it devastated his gut (which was entirely too much information, but it made you laugh).

Gatorade makes him think of his high school gym class, and you take that as a negative considering he nearly shivered upon just remembering the period.

Ugh. He needs the energy and there’s a three for five deal on the Monster anyway. You snatch three of the flavors that look most appealing from a Laios-point-of-view and rush to self-checkout.

“Plan on being up all night?” one of the attendants, Toshiro, warily approaches.

“No, uhm, it’s… It’s three for five! That’s like, 1.50 each!”

Mithrun, the other SCO cashier, is staring down a woman that frequently attempts walking out without paying, “I thought you didn’t like Monster.”

“The fruit punches are okay.”

“You didn’t buy fruit punch.”

“Go fuck yourself, Mithrun.”

He blinks at you slowly, “Okay.”

With an agitated scoff, you strut back to register six and saddle up by Laios, loudly clinking sweaty drinks against the faux wood surface. Kabru hurriedly checks the time, to which you interrupt,

“I’m not going to the break room, I’ll just sit here for ten minutes.”

Visibly restraining himself from pointing out you’re not supposed to do that, Kabru nods and clears his throat to greet a couple pulling in. His eye twitches with the urge to remind them loads of less than five items should go to self-checkout rather than a register. One day, you’re sure, he’ll crack -- and you desperately want to be there when he does.

“So,” you case your hands around the drinks so Laios doesn’t accidentally bag one for the couple, “Do you like Monsters?”

He frowns at you, lips flapping vapidly. Internally struggling between asking if you’re serious or if you’re being mean on purpose.

Picking up his turmoil, you blurt, “The drink! I know you like monsters. Do you like Monsters?”

“The fruit punch ones are good.”

You shouldn’t like his answer as much as you do, “I like them, too. But, uh, I didn’t get it…”

Kabru sighs as both of you go without greeting or thanking the customers before they leave.

“Oh, trying new ones?”

“No, not really. I got them for you? Kind of…”

Kabru’s icy stare pierces you, annoyance replaced with interest. You’re reminded of why he stays at this job despite hating it: drama.

“I thought, maybe, you’d want one since you’re super tired. And they were three for five, so I basically had to buy them.”

Laios silently looks at where your hands cage the cans, when you realize he’s waiting to see the flavors you pull away like you’ve been pinched. He leans on his elbows to better read each can, sleeves on his shirt riding up to expose more skin.

Laios likes orange juice so you got Ultra Sunrise. Laios likes cheesecake so you got Orange Creamsicle because they’re both sweets. And Laios supports his sister’s lesbian relationship, so you got Ultra Violet because that’s basically lavender.

His brows furrow down at the lineup before he reaches out and tips the middle one into his palm: Orange Creamsicle.

“You should have the other ones, I’d feel bad taking them too,” Laios admits, cracking open the drink, “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” when you notice Kabru hasn’t blinked since the interaction started, you jerk your head towards him, “Want one, mister manager?”

“Assistant front end manager,” Kabru sours, judging how your eyes repeatedly fall to Ultra Sunrise before taking Violet, “I don’t even have real power.”

“You’re basically a real manager, I don’t see Yaad or Thistle out here. Like ever. Even Delgal doesn’t come out of the office!”

To avoid accepting flattery, he scrounges around the cabinet beneath your receipt printer for ‘PAID’ stickers to slap on each drink.

Laios, meanwhile, sinks into his own head. The distress he felt when you asked if he liked monsters was downright alarming. He wonders if he would’ve felt that level of despair if it were anyone else asking.

Logically, he knows it’d be more hurtful because you and him are friend-ish and talk often, naturally meaning you hear about his interests quite a bit. Deeper down, past a thudding chest and into his churning gut he can tell it's more than that.

And from how hypnotizing he finds the sight of your throat bobbing around swigs of carbonated caffeine, he’s certain there’s more to his feelings than that.

But in all his years as a trusted courtesy clerk at his local branch of a large corporation grocery store, he’s seen many people fall victim to the allure of workplace incest. Subsequently, he’s seen many people quit over those fallouts.

Laios sips from his drink, trying to distract from such thoughts by taming a cringe at its bubbly stabbing on his tongue.

How could he even assume you felt that way about him? He can’t be sure you’re available for mingling.

“Are you single?” he asks, without much thought. That’s a casual topic, right? Lots of people are concerned with dating at your shared age.

Kabru signs out of the register as your break comes to a close, stubbornly lingering right behind to hear your response.

“Why?” a nervous chuckle bubbles out, you beat yourself for it, “You interested?”

Laios drinks again, shooting Kabru a pointed look.

Kabru can read it perfectly well, it’s a glare that reads: GO AWAY, GO AWAY, GO AWAY. Instead of listening, he cheerfully asks, “Ready for your last break too, Laios?”

“Yeah, I’ll take it right here. You should go away.”

“Oh!”

You snort, fastening a hand over your entire jaw as if to physically repress the sound.

“Oh,” Kabru repeats, quieter, “Someone has to bag, though…”

Laios steps back with a solemn nod, wiping his clammy hands against his uniform apron. Despite picking up on the dejected tone of Kabru’s voice, Laios’ only curiosity is if you thought he looked cool being so blunt, or did he come off as some dickhead tool?

(much less some dickhead tool that speaks harshly with a very polite, very friendly supervisor)

Both you and Kabru watch as Laios snakes through the seasonal aisles toward the break room. Once he’s out of sight, Kabru’s eyes stab into you, lip twitching, “So?”

“So, what?”

Kabru’s beams at you silently.

“Ew, do not look at me like that.”

“How long?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“I'm a supervisor! I’m supposed to know what’s going on with my fleet.”

Before you can properly lecture him on referring to his coworkers as a ‘fleet’, a pair of potential teenagers slam thirty packs of sour beer onto your conveyor belt. Excitement to card them floods you.

Thankfully, Laios’ break seems to blow by -- he’s soon muttering an apology to Kabru and replacing him at the head of your lane.

“Back already?”

Laios hums, starkly avoiding your eyes. His sudden, almost uncharacteristic, shyness compels you to take forward charge,

“I’m single, by the way.”

“Me too,” he keep looking at you, then away, then at you, then away. Over and over again until eventually you’re craning to be forced in his sight.

“You asked for a reason, right?” you click your tongue and wink in good humor, “You want me to clean your belt, huh?”

Really, you should’ve known better than to try playing coy because all Laios does is shrug with a polite yeah, sure before backing away for you to spray down his smaller conveyor.

Oh. Oh, you can’t just not suck his dick.

“No, Laios, I have a proposition.”

…

Despite no promise of getting the favor returned, you don’t know if you’ve ever been so excited to clock out before. Scurrying out as soon as your legs could carry, barely managing to bid Kabru farewell before rounding the side of the building.

Laios is leaning against the bumpy wall, hands laced at his hips and thumbs circling.

“Hey, pervert,” you coo.

His face flushes, eyes widening, “You’re a pervert, too.”

When it comes to him, you don’t mind being labeled crass. Or even nasty. It’s why you’re so pliant to crash onto your knees while yanking his jeans apart and down his thighs. He hisses, honey gaze sweeping up towards the empty road through the thin line of trees.

Noticing his distraction, you intentionally scrape nails against his flesh when wrangling his boxers.

A soft, warm palm hesitantly cups the side of your head -- his concern somewhere between pulling you to stand and keeping your attention where it is. Though, he remains conflicted on how embarrassed he should be, especially given the way you’re biting your lip.

“Already?” you coo, teasing a finger along the hot underside of his cock, “I haven’t done anything to you yet.”

“You’re just… so pretty,” Laios huffs, praying you can’t make out the glisten of sweat across his forehead.

“Aw, thanks, big guy,” you chastely kiss his flushed tip, giggling quietly when it twitches into your welcoming pucker, “Not so bad yourself.”

He whines, raising a brow at you almost expectantly, though respectfully restraining his hips from jumping towards you. Deciding to put the man out of his suspended misery, you lave him with your tongue in a broad stroke before sucking him in.

Velveteen cheeks clamping around him as you squeeze around him, tongue pressing against smooth skin. He has no particular taste beyond ‘man’, but you hum and slide him deeper as if he’s sugary sweet. Laios lets out a muted moan, biting the hand not leisurely splayed along the side of your face.

Curling fingers beneath the bone of your jaw, he feels out the bulge plumping your cheek -- heart throbbing between his ribs at the recurring thought its his fault.

Obsessively, he mulls that point over and over until he’s unthinkingly bucking into your sodden mouth. A lewd slurp from you makes his head swivel sharply, as if someone would await this point before calling the cops.

Wiry, trimmed though not kempt, flaxen pubes tickle your nose. Laios coaxes you to bury him deeper in the cinch of your throat, and you’re content to comply. Gags and sputters are lulled from you, saliva gushing through the seam on your lips and wetting his pelvis. Drool rolling down your chin and ruining the black shirt and apron you’d thrown on before leaving.

“Aw,” he pants above you, swiping away the slick with his thumb pad, “you’re gonna ruin your shirt. It’s my favorite one, too.”

Liking the way he babbles, you pull back to hawk twah into your hand and playing his balls before slipping off his cock completely,

“Yeah, baby? You like it?”

Rolling your tongue around his tip and teasing him against your cheek, fluttering wet lashes up at him.

“Uhhh…” he whimpers, “Your arms look good in it, and I can see your collar bones…” his breath hitches, adam’s apple springing with desire, “I love when you wear that shirt.”

Laios plops free, smearing spit and pre against your hot skin. Before you can obsess over the admission too long, you’re moving to bite his hips. Fully intent on bruising him. Your hand sweeps up from his nuts to stroke him, fist blurring along his cock with soaking click, click, clicks.

With a hiss, his hand flies to the crown of your head -- not pushing either way, only grasping firm and needy. You bite harder, latching to suck the flesh swollen as you flick your wrist while jerking him off. His hips thrust against your hand, absolutely mewling.

“Good boy,” you grin into his burning pelvis, “Fuck my fist, Laios. You wanna cum for me?” he nods, mouth only capable of leaking choked versions of your name, “Wanna cum in my mouth?”

He cannot hide his gasp, jerking in your grasp.

Your hand slows, much to his pathetic displeasure, “Speak then, Laios. Good boys speak.”

“Please!” he barks, entirely uncaring if anyone around the corner could hear, “I want to cum in your mouth, can I cum in your mouth? I want to bad.”

Resuming your previous speed, you nod (though not without a “Good boy, Laios, very good.”) before flattening your tongue beneath his weeping tip. Laios digs his shoulders against the wall, fervently pistoning his cock through the cramped hole of your first and toward your mouth. Sliding along the buds of your tongue. Pitchy moans and huffs overpower the drone of faraway cars.

With a hushed grunt and “fuck” from overhead, Laios is splattering -- drowning your palette. Warm and thick, you barely scrape the salty taste before shucking it down with an instinctual gulp.

“Ah!” Laios makes a quiet hack of protest, then sighs, “You didn’t have to,” breathlessly adding, “I know some people hate the taste.”

Weirdly, you didn’t. You’re unsure if that’s something you should share, however.

Rather, you stumble onto your feet, wiping the back of your hand over your mouth in case of any… spillage. Then follows the sudden wave of shame -- regardless of Laios being a full consenting adult, and your previously steadfast attitude, you do feel like a pervert. You feel like he’s going to look down on you. You feel like-

You’re nearly startled into the bushes when you look up, Laios’ eyes split open and gleaming in the moonlight with unsettling brightness. Fists clenched at his sides after what you’re sure is the world-record for pulling one’s pants back up.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks simply.

Or maybe he’s just as into you as you are him.

[yeoslattes]

How We Live In Tokyo

Genre: Smut, TFATF: Tokyo Drift AU!

Word Count: 5.8k

Pairings: street racer Matz!Hwa x street racer fem! reader

Summary: You were notoriously once known as the drift princess, but now you're Hwa's girl. In attempt to reclaim your title, you race, pissing off Seonghwa in the process. You are also Hwa's number one cheerleader.

Warnings: Hwa comes off as a meanie during certain parts, VERY minimal description of reader, Hongjoong openly flirts with reader (his bffs girl...), Hwa confesses, possessive Hwa, weed use, high sex, manhandling, ruined orgasm, oral m+f receiving, eating it through the panties..., lots of spit, spanking, mentions of Hongjoong fucking you by Hwa, Hwa is low-key into it, choking, just rough asf, reader cries during sex, deepthroating, creampie (unprotected sex asf), use of sir like once, basically Seonghwa fucks you stupid, very minimal subspace by reader, aftercare

A/N: She's here, for my first smut after a while it's not too shabby. I'm an over thinker so I kept reviewing and editing just making sure I was happy with the final product. Also I based the reader's car off Suki's pink car in 2003 movie, just cause I thought it'd be perfect for her. I hope you guys enjoy this Hwa as much as I did!

“Ready! Set! GO!” You swing the red cloth in your hand down, the cars beside you rev noisily. Smoke from the tire burnout goes up in the air engulfing you in a heavy cloud, and just like that the first racers of tonight were off. This was one of your favorite parts of the night life in Tokyo, the races. You never intended to become a car girl, but after a couple flings here and there got you into nighttime racing, the rush and thrill it brought you was simply euphoric. The crowd cheers loudly, flip phones out recording and taking pictures, you jump in the air waving your hands cheering over the loud music and screams. 

While everyone was focused on the race at hand your eyes scanned the scenery for the only man that mattered to you, however he was nowhere in sight. You walked over to your pink Supra S2000 and leaned against the door. Your manicured hand ran over the sleek paint, you smiled at how smooth the finish felt beneath your fingertips. This car was your baby, everything was thought out and hand picked. Rolling around in a ride like your own had never made you feel anything less than superior. You were also Hwa’s girl and that in itself said enough. 

As if manifested by thought, the loud exhaust causes heads to turn, the familiar midnight blue body and chrome accents on the 350Z were unmistakable. Your eyes lingered on the white lettered decal spelling ‘MATZ’ on the upper windshield, you smirked slightly as he pulled up next to you. People cheered when Hwa stepped out, clad in a long fur coat and a muscle tee underneath, he looked delectable. Despite the layers, the large letters in black ink decorating his neck were perfectly on display. 

He greets his racing partner Hongjoong and the notorious KQ Fellaz who had also built an impeccable reputation amongst the Tokyo racing scene. He smiles at you as soon as he spots you. The glimmer of his grills catch the fluorescent lights of the crowded parking garage. “Hey.” He grumbles lowly in your ear, pulling you into him and pressing a searing kiss on your glossy lips. He looked down at you, long strands of raven black hair falling over his eyes. “You look good babe.” He compliments, long fingers coming up to tap on the hoops that were slightly hidden behind the layers of your hair. You smiled up at him, your legs suddenly feeling like jelly under his stare. 

The arm wrapped around your shoulder drops as he turns around to look at the S2000 you were resting your weight on. He walks around it, a singular hand running over the paint. He lifts the hood up, whistling when he sees the engine, “V8 is looking good babe.” He closes the hood after admiring, “Thanks, can’t wait to take her out on a spin tonight.” At your words Hwa’s face drops, his small grin being replaced by a disapproving expression. “Not tonight baby.” You huff in annoyance, see before you and Hwa had gotten together, you were one of the best female racers in this particular part of Tokyo. Every Friday night you’d come out to the streets and race against other girls and even guys. More often than not you’d end up winning. Slowly, you built up a reputation for yourself, even earning the nickname ‘drift princess’ in the process. But that was before Hwa came in and dethroned all the top racers and drifters, ending your streak as well. Eventually, you fell for him, and while he looked stoic and rude on the outside he was a sweetie behind closed doors. His charm was all you needed to become enthralled in him, needless to say you became his princess; you were Hwa’s girl as everyone knew. You ate that title up every single time, however, the singular con about being his one and only was that in fear of you getting hurt, Seonghwa didn’t let you race anymore, not against the good ones at least. He’d always let you go against the newbies, those who were still getting the hang of the Tokyo streets and drifts. 

“Seonghwa.” You begin in a begging tone, but he put his ring clad hand up, silencing you. You rolled your eyes, brooding against the Barbie pink car that was begging for a race. You watched as he went back to where Hongjoong stood conversing in a group.

A frown replaces the big smile you had just minutes ago.

You look around, hoping to find someone that’d wanna take you up on a race, even if Seonghwa had said no. Majority of the seasoned drivers were men, and due to their fragile egos, they wouldn’t dare race against you in fear that you might actually beat them and they’d never be able to live it down. 

You huff in annoyance, and pull your car door open, slipping into the pink leather seats. Your mini skirt is short enough that you feel the cool leather against the plumpness of your ass. You shake your own tan fur coat off, flipping your long hair over your shoulder to give your moistened skin some air. Rummaging through your glove compartment filled with body spray and lipgloss, you pull out a roll of bubble gum, shoving a fat piece in your mouth.

As you reapply gloss and fix your hair in the mirror a female voice catches your attention, “hey,” you looked up at your friend who was polishing the car door just a few minutes ago. She nods in the direction of Matz.

Your eyes turn into slivers when you see 2 girls chatting with Seonghwa and Hongjoong. Hongjoong has his arm around the slimmer girl, he gives her a cheshire cat like smile and you could almost see her swoon, but that’s not who you were worried about. Seonghwa, is leaning against his car, arms crossed, talking to the girl in front of him. Her dainty hand comes up to touch the fur sleeve of his coat, she says something with a big smile that causes Hwa to cackle loudly. She wears a low cut halter top and a mini skirt slightly longer than yours, but the expanse of her legs made it look like a belt around her waist. 

You rolled your eyes and stepped out of the car. You walk over to them, a big smile adorning your face, “hey baby.” You say in a sultry voice, your hand comes up Hwa’s arm and you proceed, “Who’s our new friend?” You turn to look at her, popping the pink bubble gum in your mouth. 

You can audibly hear Hwa sigh, he leans into your ear so only you can hear, “play nice.” He whispers, his cold hand resting against the warm skin of your waist. You continue to look at her, and she smirks, “who are you?” You chuckle loudly at her words, catching the attention of the people that were around. Seonghwa lets out an airy laugh looking back at Hongjoong as if to say ‘are you seeing this right now’ to which his best friend just raises his eyebrows and chuckles, fully invested in the face off. “I’m his girlfriend. Who are you?” People are starting to gather around, you step closer to her and feel Hwa’s hand squeeze your side as a warning but you ignore him. There’s a look of realization in her eyes and her face relaxes, “ahh,” she starts, “you must be the so-called drift princess.” Her faux friendly expression drops into a stoic one, “Where I’m from there are no nicknames. You’re either good or absolute shit.” She spits. 

Your heart hammers in your chest but you ignore it, “Is that a threat? Cause I bet you I can give you a run for your money.” At this point you’re so close to her you can see the glitter lining the underside of her eye. “If I lose, I’ll leave but if I win…” She pauses momentarily, looking behind you at Seonghwa, who stands arms crossed against his car, a serious look adorning his pretty features. He hated where this was going. “If I win I’ll have him.” You chuckle and so does Hwa, making the girl in front of you cock an eyebrow up in confusion at his reaction. “I hope you pick something else.” You say shifting your weight from one leg to the other. Her eyes wander to your right, “oof didn’t think the puppy had a designated owner but that’s fine. I’ll take your car.” People around you gasp and ‘ooh’ at her request. When you tongue your cheek, she feigns a pout knowing she’d hit the spot. “Deal, see you in 10.” She whips around and walks off somewhere. 

Before you can take a step, Seonghwa grabs your arm tightly, spinning you around to face him. “You must be out of your fucking mind. You bet off the car you’ve worked so fucking hard on?” He scoffs, his tongue pressed against his cheek in annoyance, “you’re fucking unbelievable.” He groans, your arms cross at your chest, resting underneath your tits, causing Seonghwa to glance down for a split second. “Oh but if it was you it’d make it okay?” You leave him with his words in his mouth, walking away before he even got the chance to get a syllable out.

Hongjoong laughs loudly at your attitude and Seonghwa’s distress, he slaps his friends back in amusement. “She’s giving you a run for your money huh Hwa?” He says. The annoyed man shoots his blonde friend a glare, resting his hands on his hips he throws his head back and huffs out a breath. 

You stand on standby waiting to get the okay from your girls as they check your car before the race. Your teeth toy with your bottom lip, nervousness settling in your tummy.

You hop in your ride and turn it on, the loud engine causing people to whistle. You might’ve been old to the game but the pre race jitters were very much real. Your opponent on the other hand seemed relaxed. Your hands are clammy on the wheel but with deep breaths you manage to bring the bile rising up your throat down. Hwa stands front row and you can see him through your windshield, he stares at you before whispering something to Yunho who was part of the KQ Fellaz. The tall and slender man draws his eyes to you as Seonghwa is in his ear, and he nods agreeing with whatever your boyfriend was saying. Hwa finishes and stands still in his spot, his jaw ticks, clearly upset at what was about to happen in just mere seconds. 

A girl in low rise jeans and a skimpy top comes between both cars, your foot presses on the gas, your car sputtering loudly. “Ready! Set! GO!” The pretty girl lifts her hand up and just like that your foot slams onto the pedal. You feel it before you see it as you zoom down the spacious garage. With your opponent already a couple feet ahead of you, your heart hammers in your chest, body running on pure adrenaline.

A tight turn is up ahead and you maneuver the wheel and use the e-brake to perfectly drift around until you’re heading straight again. She on the other hand turns slightly too wide slowing her down by a couple of seconds allowing you to zoom past her. The girl is hot on your ass but you keep her at bay not allowing her to get the upper hand. Her pretty face contorts in frustration as she struggles to make any moves. 

This is when you start to relax and it’s like you had never stopped racing. Your mind becomes so aware of your surroundings and what you were feeling. From the way your new wheels felt smooth on the cement, to the low vibrations shaking through you; this was euphoria. 

Your eyebrows knit together in pure concentration as you accelerate. You hit another tight turn, performing the drift that many struggled with effortlessly. Right before the parking garage ramp that spirals upward into the main street, you keep going straight. With a heavy foot you press on the gas, giving it all you got, you can see the exit of the garage and the final drift that everyone always anticipated. 

As you neared it you turned the wheel and pulled on the e-brake, successfully drifting up the ramp till you made it out, the hoard of people eagerly waiting. At the sight of the pink lights adorning the underside of your car, Seonghwa relaxes. You had fucking done it. Your wheels skid loudly as you slow down to park your car.

People high five you and jump on the hood celebrating what had basically been your comeback after so long. You hopped out the car, pulling your slutty skirt down and jumping on Hwa. His hands wrap around your waist, stuffing his face into your neck, taking in your sweet perfume. “Good job baby.” He whispers in that deep voice of his. “You’re so fucking hot you know that?” He says pulling you into a sloppy kiss. The girl who had raced you parks her car and hops out storming over to you. “That wasn’t fair.” She argues, “you are either good or absolute shit.” You shrug, reciting her words back to her. She grits her teeth and storms off, disappearing into the mass of people. You feign a pout and roll your eyes. As people start to head back down into the garage, Seonghwa pulls you into him. “Bad girl.” His words shoot straight to your pussy, a heat wave rolling over your body.

Another Friday rolls around, it'd been precisely one week since you won your first race back. It was already 11 PM but the streets of Tokyo were calling your name. Tonight’s outfit consisted of a low rise pleated miniskirt and a long sleeve crop top. You looked in the mirror, enjoying how your belly button jewelry dangled and glimmered under the warm lights of your room. Tonight would be special since Matz had gotten challenged by two random guys who wanted to claim territory. If there was one thing you loved to do on a night that Hwa would be racing was look pretty and sit like a good girl in the passenger seat of his car while he raced. I’ll be there soon baby, you sent Hwa a message through your pink flip phone hoping that he wouldn’t be too distracted to read it. 

Singular strands of your hair stick to your glossy lips as you cruise down the somewhat empty roads, the wind blows through your hair and you sing along quietly to the Nelly Furtado CD Hwa had gifted you. It wasn’t long before you were pulling up into the infamous garage. If there were alot of people last Friday, they had tripled today, of course just for Matz. You pulled into the spot next to Hwa, your loud exhaust catching his attention. He went from talking with Hongjoong to looking at you. He smiled at your car, still not over how perfectly the pink decked out car suited you. 

You killed the engine and hopped out, already feeling the eyes running over the expanse of your body, Hongjoong and Hwa included. If there was one thing about Hongjoong was that he did not care. Yes, Seonghwa was his best buddy, but he made sure to let Seonghwa know just how delectable you were with no shame. Still, in other ways he was respectful of his best friend’s relationship but he loved to take peeks anytime he could. 

You walk over to your boyfriend who instead of the iconic big fur coat wore baggy cargos and a muscle tee, his arms on full display. “Hey baby.” You say pressing a kiss on his cheek, you smile at the slight residue of your lips on his cheek. He grabs your chin and kisses you, you try to pull back but the suffocating grip on your face keeps you in place. His tongue toys with yours, and he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth before letting go with a final bite. When you pull away he grins at your flushed face and how he had basically eaten all the lip gloss off. 

“Hey Hongjoong.” You pant loudly, greeting the other man who had seen the entire exchange in front of him, he nods his head up at you, “drift princess has made a comeback huh?” He teases, you nod sheepishly. “Maybe next time you’ll take me up on a race?” You ask with big eyes and he smiles, “is that a challenge?” He asks, cocking his brow up, “of course.” He lets out an airy laugh, “that’s if Hwa lets you.” He teases, before walking towards his car. You turn to look back at Hwa who’s grip has tightened around you.

“Hongjoong is up first. Are you gonna be a good girl and cheer for him baby?” Seonghwa says leaning down so you could hear him. You nod and clap excitedly when you see Hongjoong’s car by the start line. As soon as Hongjoong takes off you and Seonghwa run towards the finish line, you both wait, watching through the small flip phone screens as people document the race. You cheer loudly when you notice Hongjoong’s car is ahead. In no time he is skidding up the ramp, drifting into the big pit. He had won! Hwa claps and whistles loudly at his partner's success, now it was up to him to win the second one to maintain the best of the best title. 

You follow your boyfriend down to the garage and hop into the 350Z, you inhale the fresh car scent mixed with his cologne. “Ready baby?” You ask him, he grips your hand and kisses it, “always.” 

Hongjoong peers in through the passenger side window, you buckle in as he talks to his best friend, paying no mind to what they were discussing. When he finishes he taps the edge of the window and sends you his infamous cheeky smile and a wink. 

You sit quietly, sucking in a breath and getting ready for the ride. Hwa exits the garage, and that’s when it becomes too real. One thing about Seonghwa was that he always preferred racing in the streets rather than the garage that almost every race took place in. You place a hand over your chest, feeling your blood pumping muscle thrumming beneath your fingers. At the sound of you sucking in another sharp breath Seonghwa turns his gaze to you. “Scared?” He asks, a teasing smirk playing at his lips. You purse your lips swallowing thickly, nodding. “It’s usually more dangerous Hwa, I hate when you do this.” You say, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Dangerous…” He scoffs, “That’s what I said last week when you raced and you still went against my word. So, sit, look pretty and hold on tight or get the fuck out.” He had gotten you there, regardless, there was no way to ever argue with Park Seonghwa. So, you shut your mouth up and look down at your fiddling hands.

The starter is another girl, she swings her bra up in the air and when it drops Seonghwa takes off. The g-force alone pulls you back into the seat, your hands grip the door handle and your seat, ironically your fear only grew. He hollers loudly already having a great advantage to his opponent, your body turns with the car as he drifts. You stared at his pretty features, his perfect skin and long nose bridge accompanied by his pink and plump lips. He’s too busy looking for the guy through his mirrors to really pay attention to anything else, the air blows violently into the car, your hair a mess now. The longer you sit in the car, the more you start to relax, the cool breeze in your face relieving your anxiety. 

Seonghwa startles you when he grumbles loudly, he hits the steering wheel out of frustration, his opponent had passed him. You weren’t too familiar with the path Hwa was taking, perhaps racing here once or twice before and if you remembered correctly he was more than halfway done. 

“Hold on!” He yells, he presses the red button beneath his thumb, immediately you are pulled back from the sudden acceleration. His 350Z zoomed by the guy in the other car and already you could see where the finish line was. Hwa keeps the man at bay as he rides his ass. As if it were clockwork the crowd of people disperse to make room for the infamous Park Seonghwa. He crosses the threshold into the pit of people, the car coming to a noisy stop. He cheers and you cheer along with him “I fucking love you.” He yells, you feel everything go in slow motion at that moment, the faces of the people cheering him on outside become a blur, it almost felt like you had ascended. “W-what?” you say in confusion, “I fucking love you. I am in love with you.” He says, smiling widely at you. 

Like a tradition, people hit the roof and hood of the car congratulating him on another victory. He pulls you into a heated kiss and when you pull away you lean into his ear. “I love you too Hwa.” He hops out of the car and you follow suit, instantly, he wraps his arms around you and lifts you up. Hongjoong comes up and gives him a hug, “we are still the best of the fucking best.” Hwa’s best friend yells.

The rest of the night you had spent velcroed to Seonghwa’s side, celebrating the win and watching other races go on. By 2am you were ready to call it a night. That's when Hwa pulls you aside, “wanna spend the night?” He asks tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear. You nod eagerly, “we can get high and do whatever we want.” He whispers only for you to hear. His hands softly caress yours. “I’ll see you there baby.”

The drive to Matz’s garage is about 10 minutes, you pull in and park in the spot Seonghwa had reserved for just you.

The garage was Seonghwa’s and Hongjoong’s working space, it was scattered with car parts as well as half built vehicles. You stepped out of your pink mobile and headed up the metal stairs, your boots stomping loudly, sending vibrations up the railing. Hwa stands at the door and lets you in.

You stepped into the warm apartment, fully expecting Hongjoong to be there but instead it's quiet. “Where’s Joong?” You wonder, not wanting to impose on his personal space and most definitely not wanting him there if you and Hwa got to it. “Found some girl at the race tonight so he won’t be here.” 

As always Hwa hands you an oversized shirt, it was a routine any time you stayed at his. Given that your clothes weren’t always the most comfortable, he’d always have an oversized tee on deck just for you. You strip in front of him, already feeling his gaze burning holes into your supple skin. You sigh gleefully at the feeling of the tight clothes being off your body. 

Seonghwa sparks the blunt, his slender fingers bring it up to his lips, he takes a long drag and hands it to you. “I don’t know if I should.” You say quietly, weed just wasn’t your thing like it was Hwa’s. “It’s indica this time baby. You’re here with me, it’ll be okay.” You take the burning blunt from him and raise it up to your lips, praying that you wouldn’t end up panicking like the first time you had smoked with him. Your eyes close softly, as the smoke rushes into your lungs, affecting all your senses.

You hold the smoke in for a couple seconds, handing it back to your lover. Seonghwa takes 2 long hits, relaxing into the couch you two were on. Your eyes linger on  him, you could see his eyes drooping slightly from the marijuana. His limbs are loosely splayed on the couch, blunt hanging loosely between his pointer and thumb. Without much thought you reach for the burning plant and take another hit, that was enough to have you feeling like you were melting into the couch. You didn’t know how, but Hwa always managed to finish the blunt, this time was no different. 

“I’m pretty high right now.” He mumbles thoughtlessly slouching down even further. As the minutes tick by you feel yourself get more and more intoxicated. You felt tingles run up and down your arms and legs and your eyes felt heavy. Seonghwa drapes his fluffy blanket over the both of you when he notices your body starting to shiver. Normally, you’d be freaking out but for some reason you felt fine, just high. Seonghwa lays his head on your lap, eyes on the TV. You looked down at him watching his eyes slowly blink as he focused on Finding Nemo. The chills had subsided, if anything you felt warm now, even warmer as you felt Hwa’s hand trailing up and down your bare thigh. 

He grins slightly when he feels your thighs twitch beneath him. He kept this up for what felt like ages, never getting close to where you really needed him. Seonghwa shifts down, the full weight of his head now resting on your left thigh. You lean your head back on the couch when he runs his hand between your legs this time. He fully reaches your hot heat. “H-Hwa…” You whimper weakly, you pout when he looks up at you. He sits up, one leg pulled in and the other one resting on the floor. He presses his lips against yours, his hands gripping your face. Nothing was neat about the kiss, it was filled with hunger and lust. His spit coats your chin now and you moan when his tongue snakes between your parted lips. He roughly pulls you onto his lap, large hands going directly to rest on your ass. You pulled away momentarily, to mumble a quick “I love you Hwa.” He pauses his actions, fingers brushing messy hair strands away from your face, “I love you too baby.”

Seonghwa grunts when you grind down forcefully on him, he pushes you off him roughly, and drags you into his room. You bask in his sheets, his scent completely engulfing you, you felt like you were drowning in him. “Been wanting to fuck you ever since I saw you in that stupid slutty outfit of yours.” He tugs his shirt off you. Immediately his lips latch onto one of your buds while his free hand toys with your other tit. You felt like you were floating and in a way he felt so far yet so close. All your senses were on overdrive thanks to the weed. “Seonghwa please.” His hands wrap around the back of your knees to flip you onto your belly, 

His hand comes down heavy on your plush ass. Hwa smiles sinisterly at the red hand print forming, he feels himself twitch in his pants. He delivers a couple more slaps, “don’t think I have forgotten how you’ve been flirting with Hongjoong.” You lift your head up to protest but he shoves you back down and you let out a yelp. “What a slut. My best friend? Really?” He grits out as he works on the button of his pants.

You can’t push down the tears that sting your eyes, despite his words you knew he knew you’d only ever pick him, he just wanted to pick on you. 

You rest tummy down one cheek pressed against the mattress, “Hongjoongie keeps messing wi-.” You’re cut off by Hwa’s hand landing on your already abused skin. “Don’t try to make it his fault.” He grits, leaning his torso to get closer to your ear, “but honestly if I was him I’d wanna wreck you too.” A wave of arousal crashes over your body, shooting straight south. 

 Hwa pauses, watching the way your thighs pressed together. You sniffle, tears rolling freely now out of frustration. “Are you fucking crying?” Seonghwa says brushing your hair away from your eyes. He scoffs, “no way you’re fucking crying.” Seonghwa clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“It’s okay baby, maybe one day I’ll feel nice and let him fuck you too. Would you like that?” He teases, flipping you back onto your back. You shake your head ‘no’. He spreads your legs open and toys with your sensitive bud that your panties outline. “No? Because you’re soaked right now.” Without slipping the dampened undergarment  off he leans down and flattens his tongue against your cunt, soiling the fabric even further with his spit. 

Hwa works his long tongue languidly against you making you writhe in his grasp. “H-hwa.” You moan attempting to shove your hips against his face. The grip he has around your thighs prevents you from doing so. He presses harder against you and loosens his grip allowing you to fuck yourself on his pretty face. You groan, involuntarily grinding against him desperately trying to chase your high. “Cum baby cum.” He sounds muffled, the weed heightening every sensation has you teetering on the brink of your orgasm rather quickly. Right before you fall over the edge he pulls away; waves of what could've been your orgasm roll through you but fade as quickly as they came leaving you unsatisfied. 

You groan in annoyance, tears pooling in your eyes yet again. “You’re leaking from both ends now, that’s new.” Seonghwa says as he cups your chin, he leans down so his droopy eyes are directly in front of your teary ones. “There's no reason to cry so stop before I give a reason to.” His words make the tears actually roll down your face this time and he grins at the sight.

He flips you back onto your belly, “all fours baby.” As high as you were, you did your best to move into the requested position, your limbs moving slowly due to your impaired motor skills. He pulls your underwear down, sniffling slightly. You can feel his cockhead prodding at your sopping hole, you whine, wiggling your hips back against him. His large hands come to your shoulder blades to hold you down while he pushes in. You gasp at the intrusion, the stretch so delicious you squirm back to get more. “Stay still.” he grumbles annoyingly. He fucks into you hard, his hips being unforgiven against the globes of your ass. You keep shifting to which Seonghwa stops and places a hand on your lower back to deepen your arch. “Don’t move.” He keeps you there, his thrusts are deep and forceful, hitting that spongy spot deliciously. 

Your mouth is agape but there’s no sound coming out. “God- fuck Hwa,” you pant, tongue lolling out of your mouth and your eyes rolling back to your skull. “Feels good huh baby” He grunts, his own pants and groans filling the room, “so fucking perfect- you’re perfect.” He whines desperately, rutting into your wet pussy, you fight for air, your gasps sounding high pitched every time you sucked in air. 

He pulls out, “Get up quickly.” He commands, grabbing you by the arm, he manhandles you on your knees. “Open.” Your mouth drops open, tongue out ready for whatever he had to give you. Seonghwa wastes no time shoving his cock down your throat. You relax as much as you can, spit pooling in your mouth and falling onto your chest in thick ropes. Through the slits of your eyes you can see Seonghwa looking down on you with heavy eyes, the ‘Matz’ scribbled across his neck stretching beautifully as he throws his head back. Spit bubbles at the corners of your mouth and he grabs your head and shoves his dick desperately as far as he could until you are fighting to pull away.

You push back, resting your ass on your heels, fighting to catch your breath. “Good fucking girl baby. Cmon get up so I can’t fuck my load into you.” Hwa says, slightly out of breath. You lay back on the bed, hips hanging slightly off the bed, he slips right back in. Your spit mixed with your wetness, allows his cock to enter your walls smoothly. Your back arches off the bed as he fucks you hard, his hands push down on your waist once more to pin you down. 

The fat head of his cock hits your spot again. Everything feels far away now, but your orgasm is fast approaching. “You’re fucked d-dumb aren’t you. Does my dick do that to you?” He asks, his tongue running over his pink lips, “look at you can’t even fucking answer me.” Seonghwa’s hand wraps around your throat tightly while his free one toys with your clit, stimulating you to the brink of your orgasm, a couple more strokes and your legs begin quaking on his shoulders, “Fuck Hwa, sir too muc- I can’t.” You cry out, bringing your arms that suddenly feel so heavy to push him off but instead he wraps his hands around your wrists and presses them into the bed, “it’s o-okay baby. I’m almost there.” Sweat drops are now falling on you. He slows down his thrusts, he grinds himself into your cervix that sends him over the edge. His hips still and he groans loudly emptying his load into you. You whine, weakly trying to get him off, but still relishing in your postorgasmic bliss. He pulls out watching the way you weakly curl into yourself, his spunk seeping out of you and he can't help but smirk. 

“Don’t float away from me yet baby.” He says tapping your cheek. He slips the same shirt you had on earlier over your head and wipes you down. Slipping on some sweats and an old shirt he tucks himself in bed with you. Your eyes are now closed, the cloudiness of your high slowly dissipating but still, you felt exhausted. You slowly blinked, now realizing that Hwa had turned off the lights and you sleepily admired the way the neon purple lights from the signs outside illuminated the room.

“Hwa?” You ask into the darkness. “Hm?” He responds, not moving from his spot, “I might’ve agreed to another race next weekend.” You say sheepishly, he rolls his eyes in the dark, and you can feel the disappointment and annoyance radiating off him, “you’re in big trouble.”

[wonderjanga]

I’m Not Brainwashed.

A blizzard hit Fawcett. It was a pretty harsh one too. His apartment doesn’t have heating too. So, Billy went on a journey to find a warm place to sleep.

First, he tried the corner owned by a nice old man. The man said he could bask in the store’s warmth until the store’s closing time.

Old Man: “I’m sorry, it’s just I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here overnight.”

Billy: “There’s no need to apologize, Mister. It’s fine.”

Old Man: “But it isn’t. I wish I could keep you longer but I can’t. Here.” *gives Billy some wrapped sandwiches* “Come back tomorrow. I’ll let you stay again.”

Billy: *small smile* “I’ll try. Thanks, Mister.”

Billy would definitely come back tomorrow, but for now he had to find a place to sleep for the night. This was when Billy made the unfortunate mistake of going to the Rock of Eternity to get out of the cold for a moment.

Billy: *plops down in front of the throne eating one of the sandwiches given to him* “Hmm… Where am I gonna go now?”

Billy didn’t know that those would be his last words as he dozed off at the rock.

A full rest later…

Billy: *stirs awake* “Where am I…? The rock? Geez did I fall asleep?” *feels a buzz from his pocket dimension and pulls out his JL comm and sees like 95 notifications* “-Oh my GODS.”

That’s how Billy found out the hard way never to sleep at the Rock. Turns out, to everyone else, he disappeared. For a WEEK. Damn (he feels like he deserves to curse in this situation) the Rock of Eternity and the weird way it makes time go by. Let’s see… He’d missed an emergency meeting, several messages from his friends, and an either concerned or subtlety threatening text from Batman. Okay. That’s concerning. Uh… You know what? Before he goes and talks to his friends, why doesn’t he go check on Fawcett first?

So, he left the rock, and guess what? The blizzard is still going. He’d be lying if he said this didn’t peeve him. Thankfully, it was daytime, so that means the Old Man would probably let him in the store again.

Old Man: “There you are! You had me worried.”

Billy: “Sorry.” *sounds ashamed*

Old Man: “There’s no need to apologize. It’s just, you said you would be back the next day, and you never came. I thought something had happened to you! I’ve been stress cooking ever since.” *puts a large bag of food into Billy’s hands*

Billy: “I didn’t mean to stress you. You don’t have to give me this.”

Old Man: “Yes I do.” *points to the spot Billy sat the day he had come in* “Now go sit and eat.”

Billy: “Yes, Mister.” *trudges over me eats, feeling bad for making the man worry*

Soon though, Billy had to leave again. He said goodbye to the Old Man and started walking to the blistering cold. He had to find another place to sleep. He looked up the now night sky. He had an idea. It was a stupid one, but it was an idea nonetheless.

The intercom over head announced Captain Marvel’s presence in the watchtower. Wally paused in eating the quadruple double triple quintuple sandwich he made himself. Wasn’t it like 10 pm in Fawcett or something? Cap almost never came to the Watchtower after seven unless it was for monitor duty. The speedster quickly finished his sandwich and decided to go see if something was wrong.

Eventually, he found the Captain near the sleeping quarters. Most members of the JL had one. That included Cap, but as far as Wally knew, Marvel hadn’t so much as stepped foot in that room.

“Cap, buddy! What’re you doing here so late?” Flash asked, causing Marvel to startle.

“Oh uh… I thought I’d get some sleep.” The Captain said, anxiousness rolling off him in waves.

“I thought you didn’t need to sleep?”

“Well, I don’t, but I still like to, y’know?” Marvel said, scratching the back of his neck.

Flash shook his head. “Not really.”

A small, out of place, awkward silence filled the hallway where they stood for a moment before Flash spoke up again, “Where have you been all week-”

“Night!” Cap cut him off, quickly entering the room and letting the door shut behind him, abruptly ending the conversation.

Wally stood there for a few moments. Okay… Something was definitely wrong with his buddy. Had the speedster done something to upset him? He turned to start walking away. He’d talk to his buddy later.

Wally got maybe seven feet away before he heard a loud crash that sounded like lighting and then loud alarms that started ringing throughout the Watchtower. Something about an intruder? Batman walked over to him. Where he came from, only god knows.

“Flash.” Bruce greeted him as he passed, stopping in front of the door Marvel disappeared into just a few moments before.

“Spooky, what’s going on?” Flash sped over to stand next to him.

”There’s an intruder in this room.” Batman replied, as soon as he finished speaking, another large crash of lightning could be heard. The alarm then stopped blaring. This made the Dark Knight pause and start tapping something on the tablet Wally just realized the other man was holding.

“Did something happen?” Wally asked, leaning over to try and see the tablet.

“The intruder is gone. The Watchtower’s also sustained two major electrical strikes that traveled through the tower, temporarily shut down anything in its way. They traveled to this room.” Bruce said.

It was at that moment, Marvel decided to make an appearance. He looked panicked, and when he registered Batman was standing in front of him, the panic seemed to increase. “Mister Batman Sir! Heeeeeeey…”

“Captain, there’s an intru-” Batman didn’t get to finish that sentence before Marvel interrupted him.

“Sorry Mister Batman Sir, but I really gotta be going.” Marvel said hurriedly before speed walking to the zetas. Wally and Bruce watched him go.

Billy should’ve known it was too stupid of an idea to work! He wanted to see if he could detransform and sleep in the bed of the room, but nooooooooo it just had to trigger the alarm. Billy wasn’t proud about interrupting so many (two) people today, but he really, really needed to go because as soon as Flash and Batman step into his room, they’re gonna see two dark lightning marks on the floor. Then they’re gonna try and ask questions. Then that’s gonna lead to Billy having to explain that he can summon lightning to change into a little kid. Then they’re gonna get mad Billy lied to them about being an adult. Then, they’re gonna try stopping him from being a hero, and from there his life as a hero and as Billy Batson will crumble to literal dust.

Around fifteen minutes after Marvel left… Flash was pacing, practically making trails in the ground, “Spooky, he was gone for a week! Not only that but he was acting weird and we got a notification of a security breach. This might sound crazy, but I think it might be that worm thing he mentioned.”

“Worm thing?” Batman asked, sounding incredulous. Wally was wondering why he found that of all the things they’ve seen and heard unbelievable.

“Yeah! He said one of his villains is this little worm that crawls into your ear and takes control your brain.” Flash said, one of his fingers doing a weird wiggling motion as if to resemble a worm.

“So you think he’s being mind controlled?” Supes asked, sounding super concerned. Oh right, he’s here too. He’d just gotten off monitor duty with J’onn. At the moment, the Martian was in the kitchen getting some snacks.

“Yes!” Flash exclaimed. “It could explain why he up and disappeared.”

“Flash, for all we know, he could’ve been gone due to a family emergency or something along those lines.” Batman spoke.

“Well… just to be safe…?” Supes started, sounding cautious as he trailed off and nodded to a nearby cabinet the three, or at least Clark and Bruce, knew housed bug spray.

That was how they ended up cornering Marvel in Fawcett, Superman restraining the man while Batman sprayed bug spray in his face and ears. Meanwhile Flash was standing to the side nervously, holding a jar in case a certain green worm actually crawls out of Marvel’s ear.

So yeah, today was not Billy’s day, let alone week. Also, it turned out that there was a magical creature that was causing the blizzards. He proceeded to promptly beat it up for all the trouble and embarrassment it inadvertently caused him.

Don’t ask why I stopped formatting the dialogue the way I normally do for a couple seconds. I don’t even know. That’s actually why I didn’t post around eleven like I normally do. It was taking a while.

[r-eatyourfriends-n]

Collide | l.hs 이희승 | pt. 1

best friend!heesung x best friend!reader

READ PT2 HERE

warnings: smut (mdni), pwp (plot's there if you look hard enough), unprotected sex, cream pie, multiple orgasms, oral (f. receiving), overstimulation (sort of?), nipple play, heesung is cocky but only for a bit, no use of "y/n". It got sort of fluffy at the end?

synopsis: you've been having hookups for a while, but none of them have been memorable, much less good, so heesung decided you change that. Although his intentions might not be 100% pure.

wc: 5k.

a/n: this is by far not my first smut (it's literally all I write lol) but I've never posted for the enhypen fandom although I've been delusional about heesung and jake for a good while now. I have decided to break my silence. pls let me know if there are any mistakes and for sure let me know if you liked it! I actually quite enjoyed writing this as I began working on part two as soon as I finished. Also English is not my first language, I'm certain I revised this enough to avoid any grammar mistakes but thought I'd give y'all the heads up.

You arrived at Heesung's apartment late that night, just like you had warned him that you would. Given that your last date's place was near Heesung's, he had offered you to come over after your night out so that you didn't have to take a cab home. He said he'd be up playing anyway since it was a Friday night.

When you knocked, he had stood by his word. It took a few knocks and missed calls but eventually, the door opened, showing Heesung in a plain white tshirt and grey sweatpants. He welcomed you with a gentle smile, quiet as the noise rang through his headset. You nodded at him in acknowledgement and he took a step to the side to let you in.

As usual, you left your things on the couch. You signaled towards his bathroom and he nodded again, then left you alone to finish his game. You took a towel from his closet and one of his longer shirts and headed to the shower, head hanging low, letting the water run down your body when you stepped in, standing still under it, eyes closed.

Your date had been a mess.

The guy was nice; he held up to the bare minimum requirements of kindness and politeness, he payed for the bill even when you insisted for him to at least let you split it. Then he held your arm and guided you to his car like a true gentleman, where he took you to his house, layed you on his bed, and gave you the most boring, cunt-drying head and sex of your life. It felt criminal, really, that a man so handsome and well put together was such a boring and dull fuck. But there he had been, dirty blond hair parted to the side, stuck to his forehead as he sweat and heaved like a fucking pig white fucking into you, paying no mind to what you were feeling, only chasing his high.

Heesung, on the other hand, couldn't stop thinking about the look on your face when you stepped inside. Nor could he stop thinking about the marks that he hoped to god would be gone by morning, or your messy hair and out of place clothes, and the fact that you were willing to pull through with the plan of going to his apartment instead of staying with the guy. He picked you up, fucked you poorly (most likely), and couldn't even drive you somewhere else?

Ever since you became confident enough to put yourself out there, you've had quire the few hookups, which was unsurprising to Heesung. You were pretty, charming, and kind, and he saw those things every day. However, heesung wasn't stupid. He knew that at the end of the day, there was a good reason as to why men overall didn't have a good reputation during sex. And Heesung was someone who would love to show you a good time, but he didn't want to lose you over it.

He dreamed of it. Fantasized about it so many times— about all the ways in which he would fuck you, so good that no one else could even compare. To have you come back to him each time you even so much as think about trying to sleep with some other guy that isn't him. He'd give you the slow, teasing version of it first, taking his sweet time with each and every inch of skin until you were shaking just from the mere anticipation of feeling his cock push in, dragging out the pleasure in slow waves, praising you for enduring such intense feelings. Make you feel so good you'd cry.

If you wanted, Heesung could be rough, too. Bend you over every single piece of furniture of his apartment and yours. In his car as well, he would be lying if he said he never imagined putting you on your hands and knees on the backseat of his car whenever he picked you up from a party; have claw at the leather and leave your mark on it. Park somewhere dark and let you ride him on the driver's seat.

To be quite frank, it drove him crazy; to know that you were in his bathroom— naked in his house, and he couldn't just walk in and press you against the wall, ready to hold your weight when your knees begin to shake and buckle.

Heesung shook his thoughts away, going back to his game and trying to act normal. He unmuted himself to yell at Jake and Yeonjun, who were performing even worse than him. As they went quiet again, he heard the water stop and the bathroom door open. Your reflection appeared on his second monitor, your hair in somewhat of a low ponytail over your shoulder with a few strands on the front. Some parts of your body were clearly still damp, and his shirt stuck where there were still drops of water gathering on your skin. Heesung licked his lips, desperate to end the game and go to you, who layed comfortably on his bed, scrolling through your phone with a cold expression.

You sighed while you stared holes into Heesung's stiff back and shoulders. You showed up to his apartment knowing that he was going to be gaming with his friends, but a part of you still hoped that he would've dropped everything for like he had done sometimes, especially since today had been particularly frustrating. Still, you waited for him, just rather impatiently.

He didn't bother to say goodbye to his boys, he only turned off his computer and took his headphones off, rubbing at his red and sore ears. He turned on his chair and smiled.

“I'm done.”

“Did you win?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

Heesung shook his head. “I wasn't focusing.” He shrugged. “How bad was it?"

“How'd you know it was bad?"

“You're here, aren't you?” He chuckled.

Your shoulders dropped in defeat, quietly admitting your best friend was right. Heesung's eyes softened, displaying pity as your hands came up to rub your face, leaving a red trail of pure frustration.

“He was so handsome and sweet,” You groaned into your palms. “But he barely even kissed me, or touched me.”

He gritted his teeth, eyes landing on the small, purplish spots on your neck. “You're all marked up though,” he said, trying not to let his jealousy seep into his words.

“I practically had to beg him to do anything,” you admitted, embarassed that those words even came out of your mouth.

Begged?, Heesung thought, you had to beg a random guy to do what he had been dying to do to you? He scratched at the back of his neck.

“I don't know where you keep finding these scumbags.” He stood up, walking towards the bed to sit next to you.

“Maybe they're all scumbags and I should give up, because I didn't even get to finish.”

Heesung pressed his lips together, making a thin line. He tried to think about what to say next, but words were out of his mouth before he could consider all outcomes.

“Do you still want to?”

“Want to what?” you furrowed your eyebrows, confused.

“Come,” he responded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Do you still want to come?”

Heat crept up your cheeks, your body beggining to deter from his gaze. Neither of you had ever been shy about discussing sex, or each other's sex lives—though he was much more reserved about it than you were—, but something in the atmosphere made you nervous. Something in his tone as the words came out of his mouth, something about heesung saying those words to you.

You huffed. “Well, who doesn't, right?”

His pupils were blown out in an instant. “Then let me help you.”

“Help me what?” you rolled your eyes at him, exasperated. Although he wasn't being as cryptic as you perceived him, you were just in a bad mood.

Heesung just shrugged. “Come,” he repeated, leaning closer to you. “Let me make you come.”

The whole world stopped for you, or at least that's what it felt like. Your face contorted, a thousand thoughts rushing through your mind.

Yes, it was your best friend, who you barely recognized at the moment. But you would be lying if you said his words didn't have an effect on you, his offer making you shiver. Still, you had some level of skepticism because again, he was your best friend.

“Stop playing, I'm not in the mood.” Was all you managed to push out, not feeling like being teased.

Unable to back down now —or not wanting to—, heesung took a deep breath.

“Do I look like I'm playing?”

You turn to face him, and looked for a hint, or even such as a glimpse of him being the teasing asshole that he had always been, however, he never faltered. If anything, he seemed impatient for an answer.

“I think you deserve to know what a good night feels like,” He continued.

“You think you're good?” You scoffed mockingly, already feeling your body heating up at his promises. A good night? Yes, you were in desperate need of one of those. It was nothing Heesung wasn't already aware of.

“I know I am,” he smirked.

His confidence set off something inside of you. If it turned out that he was all talk, then, you'll be damned, because god, did he know how to talk. Not only using his words, but also his whole body, as he leaned foward to press his face closer to yours. Had he always been like this or were you just noticing?

For the time you had known Heesung, you never knew him for one to sleep and mess around. He was a flirt, sure, he loved to lean in during parties to make the women around him flustered. More often than not, he would brush past them with a hand on their waist and watched as they blushed, but despite his good looks and undeniable charisma, you've never heard about him constantly hooking up, nor doing it often like you did.

Regardless, wether it was seldom or not, Heesung fucked. It was a fact, even if it seemed like he was too busy gaming and working, he had managed to fit some fun time in his packed schedule of work hours and consoles. You couldn't deny you've heard about him, given that he had unknowingly slept with two of your coworkers. It wasn't something you told him, and until this very day, he was still unaware of the fact.

But you were very aware of what had been said about him, because you heard them discuss in great detail about how good the sex had been. They had talked about everything, from the size of his cock to how he knew how to eat out a woman—and how good he looked doing it—, how many times they came and what not. It had been weird to hear about how good your best friend was in bed, but you still grew curious, dying to know if the rumours were true, and if he was the well built roman sex god they made him out to be.

He was your best friend, yes (how many times had you said it already?). Still, you weren't blind nor stupid, you could see how gorgeous he was, how hot he looked, having been flustered by him one too many times. Certain feelings harvested in you that you had pushed to the side, thinking that you would bully them away by telling yourself than a friend who just so happened to be stupidly handsome. And you had managed quite well, that until today, with Heesung infront of you, willing to give you what you wanted.

Would the sex outweigh any possible bad outcomes that may come from hooking up with the person you trust the most? Only time would tell.

“Okay,” you whispered, feeling shy under his impatient gaze.

He reached out his hand, softly cupping your chin. His thumb caressed your jawline.

“I'll be gentle.”

Your brows furrowed. “I'm not a virgin, Heesung.”

“Do you need to be a virgin for that?” He laughed, dumbfounded by your words. “Just lay back and let me make you feel good.”

Promises, promises, promises. “Are you all talk or do I have to beg you too?”

Heesung smirked. “Don't give me ideas.”

Any hesitation any of you might have still had vanished the minute your lips pressed together. Heesung moved slowly, almost forcing you to follow his lead and you obliged, sighing into the kiss. You held his nape to pull him closer, it was the only thing he let you do. He allowed you to guide him on top of you, and you spread your legs so that he could settle himself between them to kiss you deeper.

His tongue pushed against yours without a warning and you whimpered. Just the kissing had your heart threatening to shoot a hole into your chest from the inside out. Heesung had inviting lips for sure, but god, did he know how to use them.

You were desperate to have him touch you but still whined and protested when his mouth began to make its way down, stopping by your neck first, biting just below your jawline. Your hands trembled, trying to find something to hold on to until you figured the best thing to sink your nails into were his shoulders.

Heesung loved it, to know his skin would welcome anything your body gave. So mesmerized by the way you reacted to his touches, so receptive and sensitive to him. He couldn't believe it yet, that he had you on his bed, kissing you breathless.

Your back arched into him when he sucked on the skin, making sure to leave more visibly, longer lasting marks over the ones you already had. He watched as your skin became stained with a darker purple, his cock throbbing at the sight; at the thought of seeing you on his clothes, your body littered in his marks.

He raised your shirt over your breasts. You reached for the hem of the shirt to pull it over your head to give him more space to do what he wanted more comfortably. He stopped you immediately, though.

“I wanna fuck you in my shirt,” he confessed, trying not to show his desperation.

His words almost were enough to make you moan, and you realised you weren't turned off by the idea of being owned in some way, especially if it was Heesung who did. Or perhaps you were just incredibly horny, and he had started to play with one of your nipples between his fingers, the other one going into his mouth.

With your hand gripping his head tightly, you pushed him towards your chest. He swirled his tongue around the bud in acknowledgement of your actions, which made you buck your hips up in an attempt to get some sort of friction. You could feel your panties sticking to your skin, was it normal to be this wet just from kissing?

It was probably how it should have been with your date, or with any of the other guys you had slept with. But only you had managed to get yourself to that state, alone in your room with your fingers, and now Heesung with his skilled mouth licking and swirling his tongue around your hardened nipples, his hips pressed against your cunt to keep you from squirming or pressing your legs together. You took the opportunity to grind yourself against him, feeling the outline of his already hard cock on your shorts. The whine he let out was long and needy.

“Heesung,” you moaned, nudging at his shoulder to push him away. “More.”

Heesung's knees buckled at your pleads.

“Beg a little more, baby.” He instructed. He pressed a soft kiss between your breasts, where a drop of sweat had begun to roll down. “Say my name again.”

Heesung found himself hypnotized by the way you moaned out his name. The way you tried to shove him down to get him to go between your legs just made him want to tease you more.

“heesung please, please, fuck—,” you babbled. “God, stop teasing me.”

“No god here, just me,” Heesung smirked at you.

Thankfully, what you said had been enough. He made his way down slowly, ghosting his hands over your waist as he directed his kisses from your abdomen until his lips met the hem of your shorts. He pushed them to the side and stared at your white panties now turned transparent from the wetness. And he almost couldn't believe it was for him. A bunch of thoughts passed through his mind that he didn't dare to voice; how he had wanted this for so long, how he was hoping you would come to your senses and realize how much better he was than all the other guys you had gone out with. How he hoped this would absolutely ruin you, and make you feel like you will never find something out there that could compete. The thought of this possibly being a one time thing, and that you could run off to some other douchebag was nauseating.

He offered himself up expecting that, by the end of the night, he'll own you.

It wasn't something that he wanted to keep thinking about. All he wanted was to hear more of your pretty sounds. You gasped when he yanked down your shorts, leaving on your underwear just to mess with you and make you desperate for him. He glided his thumb over your cunt, occasionally putting pressure on your clit but never quite staying there. Your legs and hips twitched, your pathetic attempt to guide his finger. Loud moans and whines kept pouring from your lips as you tried to get him where you wanted.

“Have any of those assholes ever gone down on you?” he asked, sort of absent.

Had they? You weren't really sure. Sometimes they would kiss between your legs, a few licks here and there before they pushed their cock in, but never like what your friends have told you it was like. Jealousy burbled in your stomach whenever you heard them talk about it— the unimaginable pleasure, the look on the man's face he ate them out like his life depended on it. You have had a glimpse, a very bad one, but you had almost felt what it was like. However, at the end of the day, it was mostly you on your knees with your mouth stuffed.

Ultimately, you decided to tell him exactly that. “Yeah, but not really. It's usually me who does.”

Heesung clicked his tongue, completely displeased by your answer. It pissed him off, sort of, at least enough to pull your panties down and finally beginning to live up to his promise. He flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit, to which your body immediately reacted, forcing a whimper out of you.

His hands forced your legs open as far as they would go, taking full control, leaving you defenseless under his relentless mouth and tongue. Same tongue he pushed inside you, thrusting it into your hole, feeling you squeeze him. The way your walls tightened around his tongue turned him impatient, dying to get that same feeling on his cock. But you were his priority right now, and he would have time to feel you soon enough.

The orgasm that you had been longing for since you accepted your date felt closer than ever, with heesung's nose hitting your clit, and his tongue moving inside you. He then reached up to suck on your clit that kept getting more and more swollen the more his lips would close around it, rolling his tongue over it. As he kept playing with it, he teased his finger on your entrance, gathering your slick on it and sliding it in with little to no effort, your body welcoming him instantly. He found himself stretching you further in no time, slowly pushing in a second finger and curling both of them.

“Feel good baby?” he mumbled. It was uncommon for him to ask those types of questions, since he would rather have girls show him. But from you, he wanted to hear it, he needed to hear it.

The question almost sounded stupid in your ears.

“So fucking good,” you breathed out. “So fucking close.”

All of the rumours were true, and Heesung absolutely looked hot pleasuring a woman, smiling to himself, looking drunk and fucked out just from it, his only goal to have you finish thanks to him. He was good, exactly like he said he was, making your eyes roll back, a thing you had only thought possible in porn, and just by using his mouth. And he still had yet to fuck you.

The pace of his fingers and tongue quickened, your moans got louder along with it. Edging you was something he considered, feeling you so close, having the power to just stop all at once and leave you hanging.

Your orgasm came crashing down on you before he could make a decision, and fuck if it wasn't one of the hottest things he had ever witnessed; how your back arched and your feet lift off of the bed as the highest peak of pleasure you had ever felt invaded your body in waves, body convulsing onto his hand in time with the loud, borderline screams of his name. It had gotten to the point you had to kick at his shoulders for him to pull away, sensations quickly turning painful.

If that's how you were gonna feel on his cock, he was certain that he was not going to last long.

“Shit, Heesung, that was—”

"I'm not done with you, sweetheart,” he interrupted. “I barely just started.” He chuckled, begging to pull down his sweatpants, revealing the wet patch of precum on his underwear. “Look what you did to me.”

Your eyes never stopped following his hands as he hooked his fingers om his boxers to finally free his cock from being smothered by the fabric, standing proudly against his abdomen, heavy. Something in your stomach fluttered with a twisted exciment of what was about to happen, especially when he wrapped his hand around it to stroke it slowly, almost teasing himself.

And you let him, watching him try to relieve himself; his mouth open, panting, so focused on aliviating his arousal that he almost forgot you were there. That until both of your eyes met, the atmosphere in the room getting heavier by the minute

Heesung stopped moving his hand. “Come spit on it, baby,” he instructed. “Get it ready.”

A breath got stuck in your throat at his words. That hadn't been the nastiest thing you heard, you had been said and called way worse. But the way he look and sounded while he made his request, knelt in front of you, hair out of place and lips dark pink and glossy from eating you out made him look and sound so utterly dirty, so much so that your body reacted way before you did, already crawling to him before he could finish that sentence fully.

You looked straight into his eyes as you opened your moth, a long string of saliva falling from your tongue in slow motion until it met the head of his cock. He looked right back at you as he spread it across his length. Heesung muttered curse after curse as you laid back down, and was quick to settle himself between your legs once more.

His tip pressed against your entrance, and you felt the stretch almost immediately, hissing and putting your hand on stomach as a reflex. He held your wrist gently, used his grip to pull your hand up to his face, pressing a soft kiss on your palm. His eyes fluttered shut as your warm skin came into contact with his lips. And when you moved to cup his cheek, he leaned into the touch instantly. You began to tease his bottom lip, running your thumb over it, and as he sunk himself even further, he caught it between his teeth, gently grazing them against your semilong nails, until he finally closed his mouth around it. He hummed.

It took Heesung a while to bottom out inside you, and you moaned and whined all the way through it; from the pain of being stretched open and from the pleasure of being stretched open. He moaned as well, as his hips met your pelvis, with your walls fluttering around his cock. His thoughts were going at a thousand miles, all of them screaming at him to really, really fuck you into the mattress. But he stayed put for the sake of your enjoyment, he had promised you a good night and he was going to drag it out as much as he could for your and his enjoyment.

Still with your thumb between his lips, he began to slowly move his hips, barely pulling out before pushing back in to get you used to his girth. You gripped his bicep with your free hand, scratching down on his skin until the sting started to dissipate. You took notice of the way he held his breath as the speed began to increase, moaning and groaning when you squeezed him in.

It was dizzying, how you felt him everywhere. In your hand, with his moans vibrating on your palm; inside you as he dragged his cock, barely managing to pull out an inch before diving back in, pressing himself against you as much as he could so that he was fully settled inside your walls. Due to his cocky attitude, you didn't take him for the type of guy to be vocal. But there he was, whining louder and louder, almost uncontrollably, and that only turned you on more. The fact that you, too, were making him feel good and he was not afraid to show it.

You weren't usually this pliant and submissive, preferring to put up a little bit of a fight, managing to make guys submit to you instead as you took the lead. With Heesung, though, it was different, whether it was because was mesmerizing or because you had never felt such heightened pleasure, it was clear that he had control from the moment he got closer to you before he made his offer. And you could take control, probably, but you didn't want to. You wanted Heesung to do the work, to prove himself.

Which he was, taking on a pleasurable rhythm that had you moaning louder than him. One of his hands found the plush of your hips and gripped onto it for leverage to angle himself. The other one traveled from your chest all the way down to your clit, rubbing messy circles with his thumb, making you throw your head back into the pillows, along with a cry of his name.

The echo of his skin hitting against yours fueled him. Heesung didn't know where he should be looking at, if at your beautifully contorted face, with your eyes closed shut and your lips parted, or down, to where a white ring of your slick began to sorround the base of his cock each time he pulled out, noises growing increasingly wetter.

“You're driving me fucking insane,” he grunted.

There was no response from you, only whines of pleasure as you neared your second release. His thumb circled faster, not too hard, but enough to send all of your senses into overdrive, encouraging you to reach your climax, dying to know if you'd feel as good on his cock as you did on his fingers. And although he was dying to kiss you, he held back his urges just to see your face as you came, with your legs closing around his waist, your body slightly convulsing off the bed. It was nothing short of delightful.

You attempted to catch your breath, but heesung didn't give you time to process your intense orgasm as he flipped you onto your stomach. He pressed your cheek into the mattress and accommodated your lower half as he pleased. You were barely able to hold your ass up in the air for him, your knees weak as he entered you again. Only then did you register that you had come twice already, but had yet to see or feel a single drop from him.

“You are fucking insane,” you groaned, teary eyed.

He chuckled, movements coming to a halt. “I made you come twice and you still complain? Tsk. Greedy.” He dug his nails into your hips, making you wince. “Sorry you're tired, but it's my turn now.”

With that, his thrusts resumed, opting for a quicker, rougher pace than before, clearly turning a bit more selfish and now after his own release. The new position allowed him to reach deeper, making you press yourself back onto him to meet him halfway, chasing the sensation despite the pang of pain from having orgasmed so recently.

Heesung leaned down to bite onto your shoulder, in the pace where his tshirt wouldn't cover, making sure to engrave his teeth into your skin, hoping the next man you tried to sleep with would be turned off by the markings. He let go when you complained, kissing and licking onto it instead, whispering more soft apologies, although both of you knew that he wasn't sorry at all.

After a while his thrusts became more erratic, losing any pacing he tried to maintain. The grip on your hips was bruising, but you thought you wouldn't have it any other way.

“Touch yourself for me,” he commanded in between his moans.

You reached down between your body and the matress, struggling to reach your clit as Heesung's thrusts moved and pressed you against the sheets. Your motions were slow and light despite the harsh snapping of heesung's hips, slowly building up the pressure in your lower stomach until any discomfort you felt was gone, your fingers now matching his speed, mindless of the way your cunt tightened around him almost painfully.

He didn't stop nor slow down, not even as he came. Loud moans spilled from his lips, attempting to drag out his release as much as he could. And you followed soon after, body giving out under heesung to lay flat onto the bed, breathing heavily. He spread your legs carefully to not miss the way his cum oozed out of you, dripping down onto your folds. You turned your head back as best as you could, and through the mess of hair on your face, you still caught the way he smiled to himself as he watched.

“This is video worthy,” Heesung murmured, dragging his fingers up your cunt to fuck his cum back into you. “You're gonna make me hard again.”

You squirmed away from him, kicking at his sides. “Stop it,” you whined, then whined again as he pulled his fingers out languidly, the sight so painfully naughty it almost made you ask him to fuck you again. However, you were too tired to even hold yourself up.

Heesung's whole demeanour changed, and he was back to being just him; playful and soft spoken. “Sorry,” he chuckled, the only time it sounded like he actually meant it. He hovered over you, moving your hair to place gentle kisses on the nape of your neck.

It made you sigh, muscles finally relaxing, and your hearbeat now back to normal. Or sort of normal.

For the sake of the moment, you tried not to think about anything; about the fact that you just had the most intense and amazing sex with your best friend, no other. And you had to admit that you were kind of sad about the fact that it was over, and that it was probably gonna be a one time thing to protect the friendship. So you allowed yourself to be held by him, pushing any and all thoughts to the back of your mind.

“You're beautiful, you know?” he whispered against your skin.

He was making it way too hard.

“Not so bad yourself,” you mumbled jokingly. Heesung was fucking beautiful, too. “M'gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that.”

“Sleep, then,” he smiled.

“Thank you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“The dick, and the kisses.”

Heesung couldn't help but laugh, a loud but oddly comforting sound as you began to drift off.

“Anytime.”

[nadvs]

cam girl (part eleven)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning alcohol use

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

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Rafe has never had a hangover this bad. The sharp ache hammering against his temples is relentless.

He feels absolutely fucking finished. Last night, he passed out on whoever hosted the party’s floor, so not only is his head a mess, but his back is sore as fuck.

And the black eye doesn’t feel so good, either.

Even after last night’s aggravating argument with you and the embarrassing drunk texts he sent and this residual hangover from hell, when Rafe gets home in the late morning and finds you curled up in his bed, he feels better.

His head always does this when he’s around you. It’s like the whole world is nothing but fucking noise but with you, the loud turns quiet.

He still doesn’t know how you do that.

Rafe peels his clothes off, takes a hot shower, brushes his teeth and puts on new boxers… and he comes back to see you still passed out on his bed.

You must be exhausted. He feels the usual warm and incomprehensible buzz in his chest when he looks at you, even though he’s mad at you.

Rafe settles in his bed half-naked, slow not to wake you.

He’s half-asleep, fighting the ridiculous urge to turn around and hold you, when he feels you finally shift behind him. He turns to look at you and hates how his first thought is that you look pretty. He’s supposed to be pissed off at you.

He has no idea what the fuck happened last night. Why you made him feel like you’re sick of him all of a sudden.

“Crap,” you whisper as you sit up, realizing where you are and dropping eye contact with him immediately.

“Thought you needed a break from me,” Rafe mutters. “Why are you in my bed?”

He didn’t intend for his words to come out so sharp.

“I didn’t… mean to fall asleep.” You don’t even look at him. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

You’re about to get out of his bed and Rafe is powerless to his impulses like he always is around you. His hand circles your wrist, pulling you back.

You drop to sit on the edge of the bed and he can tell you’re annoyed by the way you look up at the ceiling and sigh. He remains on his back, the pain radiating through him keeping him from sitting up.

“I have work to do,” you say, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“Did we go too long last night?” Rafe asks, needing to know why you’re so cold, why you’re done with him all of a sudden. “Is that why you’re being like this? That shit was your fucking idea.”

That stupid toy you got was what kept him from cumming for so damn long. He was fucking you for ages. Maybe it was much for you. He can’t think of what else could have compelled you to say you want a break.

“I’m obviously tired, Rafe,” you breathe. “In every possible way. Just let me…”

Your words fade into nothing once you look at him. He sees the same concerned expression you wore when you towelled the raindrops off of his face last night.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice soft.

He knows how rough he looks; he saw himself in the mirror this morning. His right eye is covered with an ugly purple splotch that spreads down to his cheekbone. Evidence of the fight he got into last night. He doesn’t want to think about it.

So, he resorts to what he does best and tries to suffocate the feeling with sex.

“You wanna make me feel better?” he asks suggestively, cocking his head. He hopes he has the effect on you that he usually does.

You’re motionless, your eyes still hard on his face. Okay. Now he’s fucking desperate.

“Please?”

Did he really just say that?

The corner of your lips curl up into a small smile. He’s embarrassed, but thank fuck you don’t look angry anymore.

“Are you… begging me?” you ask. Your voice is back to that playful tone he’s used to.

His hand is still curled around your wrist, tense that you’ll try to leave again.

“Come here,” he says.

“How bad do you want me?” you tease. He loathes when you fuck with him like this. But why does he kind of like it, too?

He only says your name in warning, even though he knows he doesn’t have the power here.

It’s so goddamn frustrating. He’s used to you doing what he wants. But after last night, after you mentioned a break, he realized he needs to feel needed by you. You’re the one actually in control here.

“I’m all you think about, right?” you goad him. “According to your text?”

Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. It’s humiliating how he typed out everything he was feeling last night.

“I was drunk,” he says defensively. Your smile drops and you start to twist your wrist out of his grip. Shit. Wrong thing to say. “But, yeah,” he adds. “You are.”

“You’re only saying that to get laid,” you murmur.

“I’m not,” he admits. He takes a breath. “All I do is… wait until the next time I can see you.”

Rafe’s not looking at you as he stammers his way through his words.

“That’s what you meant last night?” you ask him. He thinks back to the way he had you bent over the table, stupidly saying he’s the one who always has to wait.

He needs to fuck. Now. He can’t take this feelings shit.

Once he finally meets your eyes again, he’s relieved to see that your stare has softened. You turn to move towards him and his muscles immediately lose their tension.

You straddle him and the way your thighs box him in like this feels so fucking good that he forgets he’s hungover.

You start to grind against him and the thrilling promise of satisfaction washes over him, his boxers getting tighter as he gets harder.

“Does this help?” you whisper. He watches you through low lids, his hands on your thighs.

“Yeah, like that,” he groans. “Good girl.”

He slides his hands up to grip your waist and beckons you to lean over so he can kiss you, but you stiffen and reject the advance. Whatever. You must still be kind of pissed off, but he’s not about to stop what’s happening.

You sit up straighter and pull your dress up over your body, tossing it on the floor.

Rafe’s eyes hungrily trail down your body. Every time he sees your body or even just thinks about it, arousal burns through him.

He hates the feeling of you getting off of him, but once he realizes you’re taking off your panties and straddling him to fuck him in reverse cowgirl, his head feels like it’s spinning.

The sight of your bare ass perched on his pelvis is mind-blowing. He feels you pull down his boxers just enough to take his cock out, your hand running up and down his length.

You stroke him to get him fully erect, which barely takes any time. He gets hard for you in seconds.

When you lower onto him, he exhales in pure elation. You’re so wet and tight and soft and the moan you let out when you fill yourself with him is so fucking pretty.

You finally put all your weight on his hips, your hands stabilizing yourself on his knees. It’s heaven the way you squeeze him so damn tight.

You start to rock on him and his eyes drink in the way his cock is burying into you, the way your pussy looks stretched out like this.

Rafe looks over at the mirror mounted on his closet door to watch you arch your back and start to bounce on him. He doesn’t know which vantage point is hotter.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Look how fucking good you look.”

You meet his eyes in the mirror, your lips puckered as you hold back your moans. That look is for him only. He can’t stand the thought of you doing it for another man.

He watches you put your hand on your clit, touching yourself while you ride him. There’s something so fucking hot to him about how you know your body and how you shamelessly chase your own pleasure.

Rafe looks forward again, taking in the way your ass is bouncing on him, the way your back is curved, the way your cunt is clinging to his cock with every recoil.

He feels himself getting to the edge. He shuts his eyes in an attempt to delay it so you’ll get there first. Cumming will remind you of how good this arrangement between you is and you’ll forget this stupid ‘take a break’ idea.

You start to writhe even faster and breathe even quicker. He knows he’ll finish before you at this rate, so he buries his fingertips into your hips and holds you down to stop you from moving anymore.

“Why?” you whine, needy.

“Sit on my face,” he orders.

You lift your hips off of him, his cock popping out of you, glossed with your wetness. You obey and shift back on your knees.

You lower your core onto his mouth. Rafe fucking loves the way you taste. He puts his lips on you, rolling his tongue out over your velvet folds.

When he feels your hot mouth wrap around his cock, he exhales sharply. He sucks and licks you as he revels in the feeling of your tongue flicking up and down his length.

The way you’re pleasing each other at the same time makes his stomach tighten with something he’s still not used to. His body hasn’t ever reacted like this during sex, but it keeps doing this lately with you.

Rafe shoves away the thought.

He hooks his arm around you, dipping two fingers inside and curling them as he eats you out, eager to get you to cum.

Your breath is shaky, your hole tightening around his fingers. The way you looked at him when you told him you needed a break last night flashes through his mind again, pissing him off all over again.

“Nobody else can make you feel like this, hmm?” he mutters, his lips wet from you.

“Rafe…” Your voice is thin.

“Answer me.”

“No,” you tell him.

“And you want a break?” he huffs. “Do I need to fuck some sense into you?”

You’re silent, your mouth sliding up and down his cock, palming him. Frustration rises in him when you don’t answer. He needs the control. He needs to know how badly you want him.

“Do I?” he asks angrily, fingers slipping out of you to slap your ass. Your back arches at the impact, bucking up off of his face. “Do you need to watch me fuck you to get it through your head?”

Rafe pushes through the stiffness of his hangover to press against the backs of your thighs, forcing you to sit up.

“Get on your knees,” he says. “In front of the mirror.”

You groan out of irritation, but you listen to his instructions like the good girl he knows you are.

His eyes remain locked on you as you get up off of him and settle on all fours in front of the mirror on the floor, looking back at him with those beautiful eyes.

Rafe guides himself into you, finding bliss all over again. He lustfully looks at your reflection and sees the necklace he gave you hanging on your neck. It starts to swing as he thrusts into you, a reminder of how you belong to him.

Every plunge into you is fucking perfect. You squeeze his cock so nicely.

When you tighten around him, your breath hitched, he has no chance of stopping himself anymore - he cums at the same time as you, his moan tangling with yours.

Rafe can see stars as you tremble beneath him. He feels you take in everything he has to offer.

“Damn,” he says gruffly. He can’t stop himself from teasing you. “Sleeping and fucking on the clock. You’re looking to get fired.”

You let out a weak laugh and pull away from him. You stand to pick your uniform up off the floor, giving him another view of your hot, quivering body.

“Tell on me, then,” you challenge. You walk to his ensuite, shutting the door behind you. He’s sure that you know he’d never risk letting you get fired and losing this access to you.

Rafe’s heart is racing. How does every time he has sex with you feel better than the last?

He gets back into bed and pulls his cool comforter over his bare body, coming down from the high. He’s needs to figure out why the hell you’re retreating from him. And he’s determined to show you why you shouldn’t.

But with the hangover and lack of rest, Rafe falls asleep before you step back out into his room.

୨ᰔ୧

You couldn’t let Rafe kiss you. You’ll allow that sort of tenderness if, and only if, you’re more than a sex toy to him, and all signs point to that possibility being a big, ugly no.

When you step back into his bedroom to see that he fell asleep, you take a second, just a second, to look at him.

His lips are slightly pursed, his hair a tousled mess. The bruise on his swollen eye looks painful. You wish you knew what happened. You figure you’ll ask him tonight when he inevitably comes over.

As you make your way to the kitchen, the rush from the sex you just had starts to dissipate and you realize you shouldn’t have done it. You have heavy, unavoidable feelings for Rafe. You said you needed a break. Giving into the temptation was stupid.

But the way he was looking at you, holding your wrist… You couldn’t ignore the magnetic pull you seem to have for each other.

The self-destructive hope flares up as you think about what he said today. It rattled you. He thinks about you? He’s always waiting to see you again? It can’t all be sexual, can it?

You’re desperate to know what’s going through his mind.

You begrudgingly accept that because of the time you spent sleeping and having sex with Rafe, you’ll need to stay late to complete all your tasks today.

After finishing up your work in the kitchen an hour later, you head out to the backyard to throw out a few bags.

You give a polite smile to the gardener, who’s standing by the gazebo. Your mind flashes back to what happened when Rafe caught you talking to him.

Rafe’s possessiveness couldn’t possibly be purely sexual. Not after the way he looked at you once you reassured him he was the only man who could touch you.

You drop the bags in the bin and turn to head back inside, but get stopped in your tracks.

“You should be careful.”

You look up to realize the gardener is speaking to you. Your brows furrow in confusion.

“What?” you ask.

“I overheard him talking about you.“

“Sorry?” you repeat.

“The son. I heard him.” Anxiety fills your veins. He wouldn’t know Rafe’s name - he’s just the son of the millionaire you’re all working for.

He heard Rafe say something about you? You decide to play dumb. You have to. You could lose your job.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“He was with his friends out on the balcony a few days ago,” he says. “I was working and I heard him say that he’s… uh, nailing a maid.”

The word seems to make him uncomfortable. You’re so used to Rafe’s vulgarity that you forgot some people blush at a crude word.

Honestly, you expected Rafe to brag to his friends about fucking you. But you didn’t expect a coworker to hear.

You remember watching him through the window that day. Sending him that explicit video. Slowly developing feelings for him when you knew you shouldn’t.

“What, and you think it’s me?” you say with a laugh. Maybe there’s a chance you can convince him that Rafe was lying or that the conversation wasn’t about you.

“People have been talking… Apparently you got caught in the laundry room?” he says.

Shit. All that other maid saw was Rafe in the same room as you. That was it. You didn’t expect to make friends at this job, but this is ridiculous. Do they have nothing better to do but gossip?

You’ve been found out.

“Please don’t… say anything,” you finally say quietly. “I can’t lose this job.”

“I won’t. And I’m not judging,” he says, but he definitely is. You can see it in his expression. “Just wanted to tell you that I heard some… bad stuff.”

“What?” You cross your arms, feigning confidence.

“He told his friends that you’ll do anything he wants you to,” he says. “And that you never say no.”

“Okay,” you say. You’re trying to keep your gaze steady. This is humiliating. But it’s all true and not a surprise. You didn’t expect any better from Rafe.

“And one of them said something like… that’s the type of… um…” He looks nervous again.

“Just say it.”

“The type of… slut you run through then drop when she gets boring.”

This is what finally breaks you. You only nod, trying to seem unaffected.

“What did he say to that?” you ask. You hate that you have a little bit of hope that Rafe would defend you, show a shred of respect for you.

“They all just laughed.”

Your heart sinks.

Of course that’s what Rafe thinks of you. Of course to him, you’re just a whore that he’ll get tired of eventually. You shouldn’t have ever given him the power to disappoint you.

For fuck’s sake, you asked him point blank over text last night if all he wants to do is fuck and he replied with a clear YES.

“Okay,” you say, turning away before he can see the tears welling up in your eyes.

“Sorry. Thought you’d want to know,” he says to your back. “These rich guys are all assholes.”

“Yup,” you reply, walking away.

You don’t even give a fuck about your job anymore. It’d be better if you lost it so you don’t have to see Rafe ever again.

This is fucking agony. You feel so dehumanized.

When you make it home that evening, two hours later than usual, you type a text you mentally drafted on your drive home.

You open the conversation with one of your close friends from college and text her: hey, are there any parties tonight?

Getting drunk and partying is not a healthy way to cope, you know that, but you desperately need to get your mind off of things. Thankfully, your friend responds quickly about a party at a frat house on campus.

After you get ready, you take a cab to the address your friend sent you. It doesn’t take you long to find her and start downing shots.

Your phone buzzes, right on cue. It’s 10 pm, after all. He’s waiting for you on that depraved website where it all began. The text is blurry through your tipsy eyes.

Rafe: where are you?

You finally send him the message you’ve been toiling over, anger and disgust and embarrassment and sadness heavy on your chest.

You: i’m done. this is over. i’m not even a fucking person to you am i

{ read part twelve here }

[gguk-n]

if you still take requests would you like to write an oscar x reader where they got to know by a coincident and the reader knows absolutely nothing abt f1 and also not oscar so when he was like I drive for f1 she was like wtf should I do with that information??

She doesn’t like cars

{Reader’s POV}

I met Oscar at a grocery store after I had moved to Monaco. The company I worked at were establishing a new branch here and wanted me to help smooth out the process. Who was I to say no to an opportunity of a life time? But being away from friends and family got very difficult when you enjoy being around people.

I only got the weekend off; so I had to make the best of the situation. I was grabbing milk at the grocery store when another hand grabbed the same carton. I looked at the tall, handsome man next to me; “I grabbed that first” I said. “Sorry” he quietly apologised and moved on. We kept running into each other in different isles and the more I stared at him and his toned thighs I found myself drooling. Well, it’s not everyday an attractive man keeps running into you. So, I did what any rational single woman would do and asked him out. To my surprise, he said yes. I doubt myself too much sometimes, I had thought.

We started going out on dates and spending time together. He was rich and had a pretty decent apartment he owned, from what I gathered. He must make quite a decent amount or he comes from money since he’s constantly away on what I assume are business trips over the weekends every few weeks. Did I ask what he did? No. Did he ask what I did? Not particularly. But I did give him my business card.

We were cuddling on one of these days while Oscar was raking his fingers through my hair; “You always help me feel normal” he whispered. “You make me feel rich” I giggled. “What’s mine’s yours babe” he retorted. “Sure, darling” I muttered. “I’ll be gone over the weekend, again” he said stopping his hand movement. “Again? Don’t you think your boss hates you or something with how much they make you go on trips or maybe they love you” I voiced my concern. Oscar laughed a deep laugh which sent vibrations through my body. “Baby, I know this year’s schedule has been a little more hectic with more races” he lamented. “What races?” I asked. “Formula One races” he replied quizzically. “What’s that?” I asked narrowing my eyes. “You don’t know?” He questioned. “Don’t make me feel stupid for not knowing” I whined.

Oscar sighed before speaking, “so, what you’re saying is all this time you had no clue that I was a Formula One driver?” he asked. “Do you test cars or something. I thought they had dummies for that” I quizzed. Oscar was now sat up an amused expression on his face. “No baby, I drive for McLaren” he explained. “Good for you?” I said slowly, I didn’t want him to feel bad about his job or the fact that I knew nothing about it. But since when did they pay test drivers so much?

Oscar started laughing, “that’s it. Take the weekend off. We’re going to Singapore” he announced. “Not this suddenly” I said. “It’s next week. We’ll fly together. Can’t have my girlfriend not knowing what I do for work” he announced kissing my lips.

My interest was piqued so I ended up googling Formula One. My jaw was on the floor when I realised that Oscar was one of the twenty drivers; he was crème de la crème when it came to motor sport. We’d been dating for a while and I knew nothing about what he did, no wonder he owned a place in Monaco; I couldn’t help but laugh. But in my defence my country isn’t huge on motor sports, so I’m sure Oscar can forgive me.

“You didn’t tell me you won 2 races” I announced after finishing dinner that day. “Oh! Did you google me?” He asked. “Nope, I google formula one and you were on top of the list for the previous race. Then I googled you” I explained. Oscar nodded. I sat down on Oscar’s lap, facing him. “Can’t believe you make so much money and let me pay for our meals” I said shaking my head. “That was one time and you insisted” Oscar explained. “Still” I whined. “Can’t wait to watch you win, people say you are really good” I smirked. “Yeah” he said. “Cocky much.” I laughed. “Maybe you can show me how good you are, now” I winked. “I can show you how good I am in everything” he smirked. “I love you, race winner Oscar Piastri” I said kissing him. “Love the ring of it. Gonna have to win more now” he whispered. “Can’t wait to watch you” I mumbled pulling him in for another kiss

[ma1dita]

anything you want

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.6k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where you and him have your first kiss. It’s just Luke. He’ll do anything you tell him to, even if you talk too much. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: trouble is a yapper yall should know that by now. happy first kiss to you and luke!

(posted 1/25/24 unbetad)

—

“Come on, Castellan, we’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry!”

Your foot taps steadily on the forest floor, waiting for Luke to finish his demonstration of how to slay a chimera, and at the sound of your voice, he sheathes his sword and claps Chris on the back to finish up the workshop.

“Where you off to, man?” 

“Gotta help our favorite head counselor set up for Greek Legends & Theatrics,” he says matter-of-factly, setting his battle armor to the side and making the walk up the steep hill towards the amphitheater to meet you like he’s following a siren call.

“Simp,” Chris mutters before his best friend slaps him across the head and jogs away.

“My hands are full, Rodriguez!”

“You wish!” Chris calls out as he picks up his sword, watching the slight blush rise on Luke’s pale cheeks as he almost trips over his own feet. 

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Watch your fucking language,” you say sternly, which makes the both of you laugh when he finally meets you at the top of the hill. Instantly, you’re relinquishing everything in your hands: your water jug, the bag of costumes, a binder of scripts, and a ukelele. Luke’s juggling everything as best he can with no complaints, following your footsteps as he bumps the body of the uke against his hip to get a better grasp as he marvels at your excitement for your little drama club.

“What’re you teaching today, Trouble?”

“Orpheus and Eurydice, and it’s gonna be great! One of my personal favorites! The kids should be ready for the performance at the end of the month,” you grin, walking backward as you descend the stone steps of the amphitheater. 

You’ve both grown into your roles here at camp, finding places you shine and excel at and together you bridge what the kids, your kids, are lacking. But he can see how you let yourself thrive here, being the operative heart of Camp Half Blood, and you’re radiating as you beckon him to follow you. 

Following you around has become a habit as of late, one that he’s only recently made himself aware of. Sure, he’s always loved annoying you and doing something stupid to get a reaction, whether it be a snide remark or a smile, but something in your dynamic has changed. You’re head counselor after all, and even though he’s only in charge of busy cabin 11, his hand is always extended to whatever you have to offer. Quite simply, he loves it when you look for him, there’s no other explanation for it.

You’ve always troubled him, his thoughts, his life— but Luke can’t define it, or deem it something he can live without. It doesn’t make sense, and now he often finds himself wondering what it would be like to be more than whatever you are; not enemies, not necessarily friends, but perhaps a secret third thing, something he admittedly holds sacred. 

Luke trusts you with his life, but wouldn’t choose you to be his quest companion again he thinks, not after the scar only you deem pretty is an evident sign of his personal transgression. He stares at you for a second too long while you ramble, organizing your thoughts out loud that he doesn’t notice any of the actual words falling from your lips because he’s entranced by them. Slight worry crosses his sharp features as he realizes he could kill someone if you got hurt. 

Fuck.

There’s a space he’s carved out for you in his heart that he reminds himself not to name yet and now you’re looking for him again, turning to him when you realize he hasn’t followed.

When did you get so close to him?

“Luke!” you exclaim, nibbling on your bottom lip as you snap your fingers in his face.

“Are you even listening to me? I need an extra hand setting up smores stuff for the bonfire later if you’re free, and then we have night shift after…” You’re leaning against the table with a delicate smile on your face and in moments like these where you rattle off your routine that he gladly picks apart— Luke feels a sort of elation better than any quest or glory he can achieve. Only you can make unpaid labor sound like Elysium. 

He nods absentmindedly, eyes flickering to your lips as you continue to speak, and he can’t help but admire how the way the sun filters through your hair… 

Maybe Chris was onto something…

“You okay? If you need a break you can sit and watch us, the kids should be coming soon to start.”

Your fingers graze his bicep, and he blinks at you, your eyes wide with curiosity and a fire that can’t be tamed. You drive him crazy. He probably looks like a lunatic, frozen in place as he stares at you, so he shakes his head lightly, albeit unconsciously as he furrows his eyebrows, scar crinkling with his eyes as he smiles at you.

What a dork.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you laugh, your head falling onto your shoulder as you look at him sideways. You’ve noticed Luke is softer with you nowadays, hands always full when you keep him busy, and unlike the other cabin counselors, seldom does he fight you about camp duties. He’ll fight you about anything else though, just to get the last swipe at your attention, to make sure your eyes are on him.

And they always are, whether you can help it or not.

Luke steps forward, duffel bag still in hand and ukelele at his other side and suddenly he looks like he’s on a mission, his signature smirk stealing the air from your lungs as you forget what you’re saying.

“Like what, Trouble?”

Nervous laughter bubbles from you at the increasing proximity. It’s the first time he’s spoken since you got down here. His cargos brush against the smooth skin of your legs as you nestle your hips against the table, and the smell of sweat, musk, and citrus infiltrates your nostrils with a shaky breath.

“Like you’re about to make a mess of something. I can’t really tell,” you whisper. Why are you whispering? There’s no one here but you two and the sound of birds in the spring air.

It’s just Luke. Luke Castellan, who you glitter bombed when you were 14, who shoves you around every chance he gets, and steals food off your plate at every meal.

“I might. Not sure yet,” he swallows as he looms over you, the bag in his grasp falling to the side and the ukelele making a dissonant noise as he sets it on the table. 

When did you let him past your defenses? The wall around your heart was well protected after years of whims of what you thought was love felt like running headfirst into concrete. 

But Luke’s always been there, watching.

Though as a son of Hermes, sneaking in without a sound is what he does best. Perhaps a little too well, the both of you not noticing it for what it was until this moment.

“What are we doing?” you ask, and his reply is to pull you in by the belt loop of your denim shorts, snatching you closer with a curl of his fingers.

“You talk too much, you know that?”

Then suddenly, finally—his lips descend onto yours stealing your breath away like it's second nature, almost thoughtless and without anymore questions. There's a moment where you both sigh as if it was a relief to finally be touched like this, no hidden meanings, no ulterior motives, and nothing else makes sense but to be here kissing him.

Luke’s calloused hand weaves under your jaw and into your hair, propping you up as your knees buckle slightly, so intense and gentle at the same time, lips forging the undeniable connection between you that’s gone unspoken for so long. His hands are full of you, and he tastes like the strawberries you snuck onto his plate at lunch.

Your hands slide up the front of his shirt, a featherlike touch to confirm that he’s there though the feel of his tongue slipping in makes you wonder how much time you’ve wasted arguing with him when you could’ve been doing this.

Everything about this kiss feels familiar in a way you can’t describe, but this embrace lets you learn about him what you thought you were already so sure of. It makes you wonder if you’ve been here before in a different life, and then you remember who’s in front of you.

It’s Luke, who likes it when he gets to fall asleep to the sound of your voice telling a bedtime story, follows you around even if his siblings tease him, and never ridicules you for your innate madness.

Perhaps he’s just as mad as you.

Your eyes flutter open, and he’s already walking away, nervously chuckling like he didn’t give you a life-altering kiss. When your heart finally feels like it’s in your chest again, you grumble loudly, shaking your head with his name still caught between your teeth—

“LUKE CASTELLAN! Don't you dare run away from me!”

He's quite sure he hasn't sprinted away faster in his life. But as he runs up the steps of the ampitheater to try and clear his head, he stumbles when he looks at you, turning around every few paces until he finally catches the unmistakeable smile on your face. Luke eats shit at the top, falling against a tree and he hears the sound of your laughter.

He thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life running away if it means he can look back and see if you’ll follow.

—

“I don’t know how it is you are so familiar to me—or why it feels like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before—in another time, a different place—some other existence.”

-Lang Leav

ask to be put on general/luke taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl l @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

[selencgraphy]

— 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

prompt drabble series - nonverbal ways to say ‘i love you’

5 - remembering a trivial fact about them

prompts from promptingyou

PAIRING: logan howlett x gn!reader

TAGS: they/them pronouns for reader, fluff, actions speak louder than words is logan’s strong suit, tall!logan bc i love hugh jackman :)

A/N: deadpool and wolverine revived my love for logan so this is just self-indulgent bc i love him so so much. the x-men movies were my gateway into marvel so i just have to show my man some love yk? happy reading <3

WORD COUNT: 597

masterlist || request box <3

You and Logan weren’t that close. Aside from having rooms right next to each other and being co-workers, you didn’t know much about him. Rarely were you ever in a room with him when it was just you two. 

Heading over to the kitchen for a midnight snack, you stumble upon him smoking by the window. “Can't sleep either?" you asked as you quietly padded across the wood. 

Logan merely grunted in response, taking a drag of his cigar. Grabbing the tub of your favorite ice cream from the freezer, you took a seat at the counter. The tub was practically almost empty so you resorted to eating straight out of it. "Are those really any better than regular cigarettes?" you carefully asked in hopes of breaking the awkward silence—well, at least to you it was awkward. At your question, he turned over his shoulder and leaned to sit down against the window sill, his eyebrows furrowed a little deeper than they normally were.

"Haven't tried anything but these," he replied, glancing down at it before looking back at you, a hint of confusion in his eyes.

"What?"

"You're the first person who's caught me smoking inside that didn’t immediately remind me of Chuck's stupid rule."

"I mean… it is a good rule considering this whole place is built of wood," you joked, taking another bite of ice cream before speaking again. "I'm not one for rules either anyways. It'd be a bit hypocritical of me to get on your case, don't you think?"

He hummed, the tiniest smirk on his face at your nonchalance. He'd been living and teaching (begrudgingly) at the mansion for a while now, but a lot of the kids and other X-Men were still intimidated by him. His tough guy façade certainly didn’t help much but that’s just how he was used to living after being alive for almost 200 years. But that never seemed to deter you. Putting out his cigar, he started to head back to his room. "Don't stay up too late, bub," he muttered as he passed you.

"Night, Logan,” you called over your shoulder, scraping the sides of the tub as you finished it out. Throwing it away, you made a mental note to grab more whenever you went back out to get groceries.

A couple days later…

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath as you made your way down to the kitchen. It was pretty early in the day, but you weren’t one to let the time of day deter you from snacking on a few scoops of ice cream. Then you remembered. You had eaten the last bit the other night when you ran into Logan and had yet to restock. Damn.

So it came as a surprise to see yet another full tub in the freezer when you went to rummage through it to find something else to satiate your sweet tooth. A post-it was taped to the top of it, big black letters scrawled across it.

For Y/N. If you’re not them, do not touch this. - Logan

Your face brightened as you read it. Sure, it wasn’t that sweet of a message, but you’d take what you could get. Pulling it out, you realized it was the same exact flavor—your favorite flavor—and brand you loved. You’d barely spent five minutes with each other the other night, but he remembered.

“I gotta thank him later,” you thought to yourself as you sat down, your day made by the gesture. Maybe your efforts to befriend him weren’t a lost cause after all.

[michealwilliams11]

My Loving Bodyguard

Summary: Tara falls in love with her personal bodyguard.

Tara Carpenter x bodyguard!Reader

After what happened with Richie and Amber, Sam decided to get a bodyguard for both her and Tara. More for Tara, of course. Tara was against it at first, thinking that Sam was overreacting, but as soon as she saw the bodyguard. It was a whole different story. Tara was confused about her feelings. She didn't know if she liked Chad or you. She felt all giddy with Chad, and he was very hot. She felt the same with you, but you were just hotter and just couldn't stop thinking about you.

When Tara went to parties, you always tagged along. Some drunk girls would try to flirt with you, but you would always decline. Of course, Tara would get jealous, but she was glad you always rejected them. Of course, her stay in parties would be short since you were there, like if she goes at 8, she'll come back home at 9:30. Sam was glad about that, and she was always informed about any parties Tara went to. The core four is the family you thought you never needed.

You and Tara were walking to another party with her friends. You suggested to use your car, but Tara said she wanted to walk with her friends. You of course agreed and went with her. "How do I look? Do I look like a pirate?" Tara asked, with her hands behind her back. You looked Tara up and down, your eyes lingering on her legs before you looked away. Tara somewhat was turned on from your gaze.

"The leggings don't give pirate style, but they sure do give Tara style." You said with a smirk, earning a chuckle from Tara. You and Tara kept on walking before Tara spotted one of her friends. "Oh, hey Tara." One of her collage friends greeted. You quickly went by Tara's side wen she walked a few steps closer to him. "Jason, are you and Greg gonna come to the OKB party?" Tara said, pointing behind to her friends who were still walking. "Well, if he finishes his Spanish project in time, yes we will." Jason said smiling.

"Is your sister coming?" Jason asked with furrowed brows. 'The fuck kind of question is that?!' You thought but kept a straight face. "No, Sam wouldn't be caught dead in a frat party." Tara said with a big grin. "There's a first time for everything." Jason said with a pointed look. "Not tonight though" Tara said while walking back with you. "Can't convince her?!" Jason asked with a stupid smirk.

'What is wrong with this kid?!' "No. That's not my problem, that's yours." Tara said with a giddy tone. "Save me a drink!" He called out. "All right, I'll see you." Tara said before completely walking away. You huffed, gaining attention from Tara. "What? You jealous?" Tara asked with a smirk. "Of what? That?"-You looked back at Jason-"Yeah sure." You said with a sarcastic tone earning a giggle from Tara.

-

The party was going great, surprisingly no one was flirting with you and Tara hasn't tried getting into people's pants. Everything was going well, Anika and Mindy were lovingly chatting on a coach, Chad and Ethan were taking shots and dancing, Tara went to go find you and her a drink and you're searching for her. That's when you saw her by the stairs, a bearded man was leading her upstairs. You quickly ran up to them.

"Sorry sir, she stays downstairs with me." You said with a fake closed lip smile. "Y/N!" Tara squealed as she hugged you tightly, clearly drunk. "Well, she wants to go. Right?" The bearded man asked Tara. "Yeah." Tara said, nodding her head, seeming unsure about her answer. "Where's my drink, Tara?" You asked, raising a brow to the girl. "We're gonna go get it." Tara said with the biggest grin, pointing upstairs. "See? She wants to come." The bearded man said before dragging Tara upstairs, making her fall on some stairs with an "Ow" and some hisses.

"Hey!!" You said, grabbing the bearded man from the collar and slamming him against the wall before headbutting him. He hissed but he groaned after you kicked him in the balls and threw him down the stairs. You started kicking him in the stomach all over, again and again and Chad had to pull you away from him. There were some gasps and a smirk from Sam's face from nearby. "Y/N! Why did you do that?!" Tara shouted at you, pushing you with an annoyed tone. She then walked away with a huff. You quickly ran after her, as well as the other members of the core four.

"Tara!! Wait up!!" You shouted, running after Tara. 'For someone who's small, she sure can run' You thought when you finally caught up. "Why did you that?!! You embarrassed me!!" Tara said, finally stopping. "You're worried about your reputation then getting raped?!" You said with no shame at all. "I wasn't-" Tara stopped herself as her fingers went down her face. "You need to stop." Tara said, pointing at you. "What did I do, other then I don't know, protect you?!" You fought back. Whenever you and Tara fought, it was like talking to a mirror. Both of you shared the same energy when angry.

"Well I don't need protecting anymore!" Tara responded, fed up about having a bodyguard. "You say that now but when fucking Ghostface pops up! Who are you going to run to next? Hmm?" You said out of anger. Tara stood shocked, her reply for anything gone. You suddenly realized what a dick you are. "Tara, wait, I didn't-" You said, reaching to hold her hand. "Fuck you Y/N." Tara said with tears almost dropping before she walked away. When Tara was out of sight, the rest of the group came running. "What happened?!" Sam asked, looking between an angry Tara and a sad Y/N. "Nothing. I'm gonna go visit my sister." You said, giving Sam a small smile before you were able to walk away. Some girls came over and threw a drink on you, one of them shouting "Murderer!". You sighed, having no energy for bullshit anymore before walking away.

-

You knocked on the door of your sister's apartment. "Come in!" Came from the inside. You shook your head. You had told your sister every time not to do that because you never know who is coming in! You came in and closed the door behind you. "Sis?" You shouted out in the room. Your sister, Olivia, came around the corner with only a towel around her body. "Y/N!" She shouted before running to you in full speed and pulled you in a bear hug. "I missed you too." You chuckled, hugging her small body. "How's collage been?" You asked, letting her go. "I missed you so much." She said with the biggest smile.

"Why don't you go get dressed?" You said, motioning to her towel. "Why are you wet and smell like alcohol?" Suddenly your sister gasped. "You went to a party?!" She asked, jumping up and down. "Only cause of Tara." You said, putting the McDonald's you got on the way here on the counter. "You like her, don't you?" Olivia asked with a smile. "I guess so." You said, not really paying attention. "Mind if I change clothes?" You asked, taking your suit jacket off. "Nope." Olivia said, already chowing down on the fries.

You went to the guest room that usually was where you slept when you came over. You opened the closet to find anything to wear. There was some stuff that didn't seem comfortable, so you just went with some sweatpants, white shirt and a sweater over it. You went back to the kitchen and Olivia was finally dressed and sipping on her Pepsi. "Leaving already?" Olivia asked with pout on her face. "Sorry, love you." You said, kissing Olivia on the forehead before leaving her apartment.

There was another knock on the door a few minutes after you left. "Come in!" Olivia shouted, sipping on her Pepsi while scrolling for a Netflix movie to watch. Officer Bailey came in; he closed the door behind him before fully coming in. "Miss L/N?" The cop asked, as Olivia quickly stood up. "Evening officer, what do I pay your visit?" She asked, somewhat confused on why a cop was in her apartment at this time at night.

Olivia gasped as Officer Bailey stabbed her in the stomach and twisted it. "You stole your dear sibling's death, bad decision." Bailey said with a sickening grin. Olivia gripped on Bailey's shoulder. Bailey quickly dodged her, resulting to Olivia falling against her dinner table and grabbing a butter knife in the process. Bailey stomped onto Olivia's right leg, a bone cracking sound coming from it, making Olivia scream her lungs out. Baily took her from her hair but Olivia quickly turned and stabbed him in the neck. Bailey let out a gasp as blood came out he's mouth as he did so.

Olivia twisted the knife as Officer Bailey fell on Olivia's body. She pushed his body off and laid there for a while. After a while, she crawled to her phone and dialed your number. God, she hoped you would be here soon.

[kazumist]

DRUNK WORDS ARE SOBER THOUGHTS .ᐟ

✩ — in which you found yourself confessing to your childhood friend, soshiro. all thanks to the liquid courage you got.

✩ — includes: hoshina soshiro x gn!reader. fluff. cw: reader is implied to wear makeup (but i didn't really use any gendered terms haha), ooc!hoshina i think.. uhm i wrote him differently here than how i usually write him ack TT. wc: 778. one (1) pet name used (bub). reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated !!

“let’s get you home.” hoshina swings your arm over his shoulder as he places his arm around your waist to balance you in his hold. “huuuuh? have we met before?’ you ask as your words are slurred. you look at the man holding you, squinting your eyes to get a good look at him (though that doesn’t really help because nothing is really processing for you at the moment). “we’ve been literally friends since we were kids.” hoshina says.

“ehhhh? soshiro?! no way! you’re all… you’re all so grown up now!” you exclaimed. soshiro takes note of the blush on your cheeks, and the way you keep stumbling in your steps. although it’s rare, he just sighs as he confirms that you were absolutely drunk at the moment. “that’s because i ain’t a kid anymore, you silly.”

getting you back to your dormitory was a hard task, even for the vice captain of the third division. only because during your trip back you kept making random comments like how soshiro was almost as pretty as the moon (you were looking at a street lamp thinking it was the moon) and he could only hold back his laugh.

as hoshina settles you on your bed, he proceeds to remove your makeup from your face. knowing you this long was enough for him to become familiar with your routine when it comes to attending celebrations like these. he gently wipes the cosmetic products from your face, making sure to keep quiet because you finally slept.

well, apparently, you still woke up either way. “you know, hiro…” the nickname rolled off of your tongue perfectly—almost too perfectly, if soshiro must admit. only you could call him that; after all, you were the one who came up with that nickname for him anyway. you stared at him with half lidded eyes, too tired to fully open them. “you have a stupid face.” you finish.

hoshina found himself dumbfounded.

“eh?”

“but it’s my favorite face to look at.”

oh.

"i suppose i'm grateful for the compliment.” he pushes the hairs that were hiding your face aside and chuckles. “you should go home; i might do something stupid.” he tilts his side to the side in confusion. “like what?”

“like kissing you.” he froze.

surely, this is just the alcohol, right? soshiro wonders, surprised at your words as he held his breath. “or maybe i roll off of my bed and end up sleeping on the floor.” you continue. he lets out a sigh of relief. soshiro only kept his feelings for you to himself. though he’d casually make some gestures, and that’s good enough to question if you’re crossing the line between friends and lovers.

“you should sleep. you’re completely drunk right now.”

“i'm totally, absolutely not at all drunk at all. like... at all!”

“sure, and i’m not the vice captain of this division.” he receives a pout from you as you turn away from him. he laughs at your antics, gently shaking you as he apologizes. you refused to face him as you focused your gaze on the wall. liquid courage was no joke—because you somehow feel more confident to admit more... personal thoughts to the man who’s sitting behind you.

“hey, soshiro?”

“yeah? are you feeling a bit better now?”

“i… would you hate me if i said that i like you? like, you know… more than what we are right now.”

once again, hoshina froze. his breath hitched as he processed what you had asked. would you hate me if i said that i like you? your voice echoed in his head. you still refuse to face him but you know that he knows that he could see you right now. no, he wouldn’t hate you—hell, why did you think that he would hate you because of that in the first place? he would be ecstatic!

“can you face me for a minute, bub?” the pet name came off so smoothly—you were the only one he called that with. you hesitantly, roll to your other side, looking up to the man sitting on the side of your bed. you quickly avoided his gaze, but his hand pushes away your hair from your face again. “i wouldn’t hate you for that, but i’d rather not have this conversation when you’re drunk like this. so don’t forget this conversation, ‘kay? we’ll talk about it once you wake up. can you promise me to remember this, bub?”

“i promise. how could i… forget…” you trailed off. yawning in between your words before your eyes finally decided to rest themselves.

soshiro feels delighted that he has something to look forward to for tomorrow.

[xfgpng]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 -

— : [ nsfw ] yakuza boss toji, arranged marriage, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, pet names, fluff (he’s very ooc with reader, sue me) + breeding kink and mentions of pregnancy

— : wc : 1.9k

when you were first introduced to the zenin clan, you were shy. your father and the head of the zenin family were close, the alliance going as far back to the early 1920’s.

you didn’t ask any questions and like the good and dutiful daughter you were, accepted from the age of 16 that you would be married into their family. you didn’t have any complaints, your parents and older brothers and sisters were always good to you and you felt honoured that your father had chosen you and not one of your sisters.

now, at 23, you were to be married to one of the sons who would rightfully take over the family business as soon as his grandfather passed on.

toji zenin

just looking at him made you squirm. he was big and intimidating and his smile made you feel like he was in on a joke that you didn’t get. still, he was beyond handsome so you had no complaints.

he was always soft with you, different from how aggressive you’ve seen him be to just about anyone else.

“come sit with me baby” he chuckles, watching you leaning awkwardly against the door to his private home office.

“are you busy?” you ask, walking around the large desk to stand next to his chair.

“never too busy for my wife” he smirks, pulling you to sit on his lap. he kisses your temple and then your cheek as he wraps his arm around you.

you can tell that he is actually busy. he has his laptop open and there are stacks of money packed in neat piles on the floor next to his desk.

“couldn’t sleep?” he asks, rubbing your arms softly. it wasn’t necessarily cold in his office but it was cold in the house and the big bed felt empty without your husband.

“not without you” you admit and he laughs. it’s not to mock you, he never makes you feel stupid for your feelings despite everyone telling you how mean and rude he was. you didn’t care, he treated you just fine.

“i’m sorry sweetheart” he sighs, “i’m almost done here”

“toji…” you say, trailing off. you’ve been thinking about this for a month now and you weren’t sure if he was just being nice or if he was just keeping you around to save face.

“what is it?” he asks, turning his laptop off to give you his full attention. he did feel bad for not sleeping with you but he was a busy man and he was still a newlywed. he wasn’t sure how to handle these things all at once.

“i just… do you not want me?” you ask, frowning slightly. you don’t mean to sound so desperate but you were married after all and he hadn’t even…

“what, where is this coming from?” he asks and he seems confused. he turns you in his lap so he can see your face. you really were so cute when you looked so shy.

“you haven’t tried to touch me” you pout, “i know you’re far more experienced than i am but i thought you’d —”

“y/n” he cuts you off, cupping your face gently, “i’ve wanted to fuck you since we were teens”

“hey!”

he laughs, kissing you. you really were the sweetest thing.

“i know you’re a virgin, i would never want to force you into anything unless you’re ready” he says, “and besides”

you look into his eyes and he’s smirking again.

“i’m big, i don’t wanna hurt you” he’s so smug and you’d slap him if you weren’t interested in finding out just how big.

you squirm in his lap, moving your hips against him and he grabs your waist.

“watch it” he narrows his eyes, “i’ll take that as an invitation”

“take me to bed toji-san” you flatter your pretty lashes at him and his jaw clenches. he really couldn’t give a fuck about finishing any work tonight.

“mark your words baby” he warns, scooping you up and heading towards your bedroom.

you kiss his neck, sucking marks into it. you weren’t always like this but you’ve seen the way people look at him and even though he was all yours, you had no problem reminding them that toji was a married man. he was off the market. he was yours.

he grins, titling his head to the side to give you more access and you moan, biting down. he grunts, slapping your ass before laying you down gently on your expensive silk sheets.

“i didn’t know my wife was so slutty” he scoffs, pulling his sweater off in one swift motion. the way he looks standing over you, big and bulky has you squeezing your thighs together.

he licks his lips, pulling your legs apart and leaning down to kiss the inside of your thighs.

“let me get you nice and ready for me yeah?” he bites your thigh in retaliation from your own marking and you gasp, legs falling open wider.

your pretty silk panties are damp and he looks up at you with a smirk.

“that excited for me already baby?” he teases, just to see you try to cover your pretty face with your pillow.

he kisses the inside of your thighs, watching as goosebumps arise. you were so sensitive and he liked that a lot about you. he reaches up to pull your panties down, groaning at the sight of your pretty pussy glistening with your arousal.

you knew you were pretty, you’ve never doubted that but the way he looks at you, makes you feel so beautiful. you think your parents made the right choice when it came to toji.

he kisses your clit, earning a soft whimper from you. flattening his tongue against your pussy, he licks a long stripe from your slit to your clit, wrapping his lips around your sensitive bud as he slips a wet finger into your tight pussy.

his thick finger feels different from your own but it’s still so good, so much better than you even imagined and you find yourself moaning louder for him, grinding your pussy against his face.

he grins, adding another finger before scissoring you open. it hurts just a little but you don’t want him to stop, the pain doing nothing to stop the tingling sensation you’re feeling all over your body.

“feels good baby?” he asks, licking his lips as he watches you fall apart beneath him. it’s so sexy, the way you squeeze and pinch your nipples.

you look so disheveled and fucked out and it’s all for him. he feels his cock throb and twitch knowing he will be the only person to ever see you like this.

“i’m ready for you” you whine, “please, i want it”

he’s too weak to deny you anything and it should scare him but he can’t help the chuckle that leaves his mouth. a sweet thing like you had him wrapped around your finger and you probably didn’t even know that yet.

he strokes his cock a little, watching your eyes widen when you see just how big he is. you’ve never had sex before but you weren’t exactly innocent. you’ve seen porn and his dick was a lot bigger than the ones you used to see on your screen.

it has you unconsciously closing your legs.

“don’t hide from me sweetheart” he grins, “it’s all yours you know?”

he’s teasing you but he wasn’t wrong. all of toji belonged to you in the same way you were his.

he’s careful when he rubs his thick and veiny cock through your folds. you’re so wet and it helps ease the tension he felt. he would never hurt you unless you asked him to. he would do whatever you wanted.

“ready?” he asks, rubbing soothing circles into your hips as he leans down to kiss you softly.

“yeah” you gasp, “want you”

you’ve wanted him since you learned what it was like to please yourself. a silly teenager who didn’t know the first thing about sex aside from what you were taught.

he takes his time, pressing into you. the stretch shocks you and it’s almost enough to distract you from the pain but it does hurt. when his tip pops through, you cry out, eyes squeezing shut.

he kisses you gently, whispering praises as he slowly bottoms out. his eyes widen when he looks down and sees the blood. he’s about to pull out when you wrap around legs around him.

he can see you crying but you’re also smiling. he knows it must feel uncomfortable for you but he mirrors your sweet smile.

“you’re so big” you moan, moving your hips on your own and he bites the inside of his mouth. you’re so wet and tight and your velvety walls welcome him home like he belongs.

“don’t” he groans, “please baby, i need a moment”

he slides out slowly, watching your face for any discomfort. he knows how big he is, he’s always taken pride in his body and he can’t help but feel smug about your moans and whines.

he moans, thrusting back into you. he knew it would feel good but this is nothing like he could ever imagine. he doesn’t want to think about the women he’s been with before you.

he was arrogant when he was younger, refusing to get married to you or waiting. he feels like a piece of shit whenever he thinks about you and how loyal you’ve been, despite his reluctance in the beginning.

“more” you beg, gripping his bicep with the hand that wasn’t gripping the sheets below you. your nails make crescent moons in his skin and he knows it’ll leave marks. he hopes it bleeds too, he wants to feel you all over.

he picks up his pace, enjoying the way your moans get louder, the sound of skin slapping against skin is loud and he wonders if everyone in the house can hear you. he hopes so. you sounded so pretty, he would never get enough of you.

“i love you” he gasps, leaning down to kiss you. he feels you smile against his lips before you wrap your arms around his neck.

he slows down and he almost regrets it. he’s so close to busting his load when he hears you whine and then, “put a baby in me” you say, “fuck me full of your cum toji-san”

he bites your shoulder. he really needs to calm the fuck down. everything is so overwhelming and you’re just so perfect it makes him nervous.

he would be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about it. he’s fucked his fist to the idea of breeding you, stuffing your pussy with his cum until it leaks out but he wouldn’t stop, he’d keep going until you passed out.

“y/n” he warns, feeling your clench around him. you were playing a dangerous game and you clearly knew that. perhaps you did know the power you had over him.

“i want your cum” you plead, kissing his jaw and then his cheek, whispering right into his ear, “i wanna feel you for days, please”

he’ll make you regret messing with him like this.

“safe word” he whispers and he’s not sure why he’s even surprised when you don’t look confused or surprised. you smile so sweetly and oh so innocently up at him when you say,

“sōko”

[spicyspiders]

open the door to another door

5+1 Ghost/Reader + Size Kink

13k words (the longest fic I've ever written).

Warning for canon-typical violence and lots of smut.

Thank you so much @stupidslavicguy for being my beta for the story :) <3

Simon was a giant man, so it really shouldn’t be all that surprising he had a dick to match his stature. It was long, thick, and slightly curved to the left. The color of it almost matched Simon’s face too, a fact that you were sure would make it hard in the future to look at him and not think of. 

“Woah,” you breathed, mentally kicking yourself for such a stupid reaction. You pulled your eyes away to look at Simon, a small smile stretching out your lips.

“Sorry,” Simon murmurs in response, a blush darkening his face.

“Sorry? For what?” Your hands cupped Simon’s face so your eyes could meet his. 

“I haven’t always gotten,” he pauses and lets out a sigh, “the best reaction,” he finishes, the words coming out quickly. 

“It’s,” you look back down, “intimidating I’ll admit,” your eyes go back to Simon’s before continuing, “but we get shot at almost daily. “This,” you take one of your hands away and wrap it around the hard length, “isn’t going to scare me off.”

Simon lets out a breathy noise as you give a slow pull on his cock, “yeah?”

“We’ll just have to go slow until I can take it all.”

“You still want it? All of it?” Simon asks, his hips pushing forward as your pace goes faster.

“Yeah–” Simon cuts you off as he swoops down to press his lips to yours. Your teeth clack together, but Simon makes it easy to ignore the pain as the sound of the moan he lets out fills your ears. Your lips stay locked even as Simon pushes you back, and then onto the bed when it hits the back of your legs. 

“I’ll make it good,” Simon breathes as he gets your pants and underwear down. His mouth is against yours once more as he wraps one of his large hands around both of your cocks, “get you open and ready,” he says when he pulls away again. 

“You’re gonna ruin me for anyone else,” you say around a moan. You couldn’t tell the future but were almost 99 percent sure of it.  

“That just means I get you all to myself,” Simon’s head moves down to your neck to suck a dark bruise into the flesh. His fingers tighten and your hips jump as you feel the edge approach. 

Simon lets out a shaky breath against the skin of your neck before his mouth is at your ear, “you can help me too,” he whispers into your ear. “I can never get the angle right when I try it myself.”

“Fuck, Simon,” you moan, one of your hands going to his hair to pull his face up so you can smash your lips on his, “gotta show me,” you say when you pull away. You fall over the edge to the thought. At first, it was building to the feel of his cock against yours, and knowing that soon, his big cock would be inside you. But now, it was also to the images flashing through your mind of Simon laid out on his bed with his thick fingers pressing deep inside himself, and his sweaty forehead pressed against his bedspread as he tried to get his fingers against his prostate. 

Simon came after you did in white splatters against your chests. You almost immediately regretted not getting your shirt off as most of it ended up on your chest, “sorry,” Simon whined as his cock pulsed and shot out white ropes, one of them just missing the bottom of your chin. 

“Was the hickey not enough?” You question, looking down to watch Simon’s cock shoot out spurts of white. “You’ve got to mark me like this, too?”

“Can’t help it,” Simon whimpers as the aftershock takes over. Your cock gives a twitch when the last of his mess ends up dripping onto your cock. He ducks his sweaty forhead into the crook of your neck to press against the mark he left there. 

“I’m only teasing,” you respond, and place one of your hands to the back of Simon’s neck to run your fingers through the hair on the back of his head. “As long as the others don’t see.”

You let out a grunt as Simon lets his heavy weight rest on top of yours. He lets out a sign of contempt that nearly sounds like a purr, “you think they’ll get jealous?” He asks. 

You laugh quietly, “we’d probably just never hear the end of it.”

Mouth

For the time being after that, you tried your best to keep what you had to yourself. As you suspected, it was easier said than done. It’s not like you were fooling around in other places around the base that weren’t your respective bedrooms, so you wouldn’t have to worry about that. What you did have to worry about was things that were more out of your control, like the absolute looks of longing you could see on Simon’s face whenever you would catch him staring. 

Gaz and Soap were the first ones to pick it up. You honestly thought what gave it away was the dark mark on your neck Simon had left a week before, but it wasn’t until after it had healed that you were cornered by them. 

It nearly looked like something from a horror movie the way they had matching smiles on their faces as they backed you into the corner of the kitchen. So close, yet so far from the pick-me-up you needed after rolling out of bed.  

You turned, armed with a mug and a few hours of sleep as you heard them walk up behind you, “I was about to knock you out! Don’t sneak up on me like that,” you hissed, your other hand covering your racing heart. 

“You wouldn’t have gotten us both,” Gaz nodded at Soap, “it’d break on his hard head.”

Soap swatted at the back of Gaz’s head, his smile falling from his face. However, When he looked back in your direction, it was back. 

“Was Simon too tired to come with you to the kitchen?” Soap questioned. 

“I haven’t seen him today,” you glanced over at Gaz, “I just woke up.”

“Didn’t you wake up next to him?” Gaz asked. 

Your brows furrowed as you looked between the two men and let out a laugh before responding, “I don’t have sleepovers like you two do.”

“They’re not sleepovers!” They both respond, making you laugh harder.

“Sorry, sorry. I forgot you call it spending the night,” you say as you set the mug down. 

“You still haven’t come to one, but we understand now,” Gaz says, and the two share a glance. 

If it was possible, your eyebrows would go lower to show your confusion, “understand what?”

“You can’t come,” Soap’s smile grows into a toothy smile, “because you’re dating,” he proclaims loudly. 

You slap a hand over his mouth, “we aren’t dating,” you hiss. Soap’s eyes go wide before they fill with mischief, “if you lick my fucking hand I’ll–”

“Easy,” Gaz says, one of his hands going to your shoulder, “we’re just wondering,” Gaz pulls his hand away when you glare at him. 

Soap pulls your hand away from the wrist, “we’re just happy we didn’t need to have the intervention we were planning.”

You don’t even want to ask, and you blame it on your lack of sleep when you feel your mouth form around the question, “intervention?”

“We could only watch the man pine for so long,” Soap responds. 

“Pine?”

Not even answering your question, Gaz responds, “you both can come the next time we spend the night,” his voice full of excitement.

“Like a double date?” You ask, a slow smile stretching out over your face as you look between the two men. “He can only pine for so long!” You yell at their backs as they both turn and quickly leave. 

Compared to Soap and Gaz, when Price finds out and speaks to you about it, it’s much more awkward. 

It happens in the same place, but you’re a lot less cornered. If you wanted to, you could have just left and avoided the conversation, but it was better to just rip the bandaid off you guess. 

“So,” Price says, dragging the word out, “you and Simon.”

“Oh my god,” you say into the cabinet, “you too?” you ask as you slam your mug down onto the counter. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he clears his throat before speaking again, “as long as you two are happy,” he says, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Thank you for your blessing,” you respond sarcastically before turning to grab another mug. 

“Is that for Simon?” Price asks after you set the other one down. The smile you can hear in his voice has you tempted to throw it at him. 

“You’re going to the kitchen next time,” you say once you’re back in your bedroom and away from Price and the stupid smile plastered on his face.

“That bad, huh?” Simon asks from the bed. He looks way too good for someone who just woke up with his sleep tousled hair and sleepy eyes. “Where’s yours?” 

“I changed my mind,” you say, placing the mug on the bedside table on Simon’s side of the bed. 

“Want some of mine?” He asks. 

“I’m okay,” you respond, sending Simon a tired smile. It was like all of your energy drained away once you had gotten out of the kitchen. Waiting for the inevitable conversation with Price after the one you had with Soap and Gaz had you on edge, so now that it was all over, you just wanted to sleep it off and gain your energy back. 

It was still early in the morning and the sun had just started to rise for the day, so the only thing that illuminated the space was the lamp on your side of the bed. The warm glow made you sleepy, and the feeling only intensified when you were back under the covers. 

“I didn’t add anything to it,” you laid your head onto Simon’s shoulder, “had to get away from Price,” you said around a yawn. 

‘I guess that’s kind of my fault,” Simon places the mug down lightly before the arm you’re laying against rises to wrap around your shoulder. 

“They did say something about you pining, but I think we’re both to blame,” you smile up at him sheepishly. 

“I wasn’t pining,” Simon responds, scoffing. He looks down before a small smile appears on his face, “I’m surprised you didn’t pick up on it,” he says quietly. 

“You’re not exactly easy to read,” you say, laughing fondly. “I thought you hated me at first.”

“You might’ve been reckless and headstrong and rushed into danger-”

“Okay!” You say, ducking out from under Simon’s arm to sit all the way up, “but?” You ask, waiting for Simon to say all the great things about you. After all, you get all of your tasks on  missions done, no matter how you tend to rush into danger and be reckless and headstrong like Simon just said. 

“But?” Simon asks in confusion. The expression melts away into a grin when you jab an elbow into Simon’s side, “but,” he rubs at his side, “you always come out on top. No matter how much it terrifies me.” 

His voice sounds like he wants to say more, but his mouth clamps shut and his eyes fall to his lap. You wait for him to continue, but before he does, he grabs at your wrists to pull you over into his lap. Your knees end up on either side of his legs, tangled in the sheets that pool around you. 

“On our first mission after you joined the task force,” Simon begins quietly, his eyes glued to the shirt you wore to bed, “when you pushed Johnny out of the way and took that bullet for him, for all of us,” he goes quiet again, one of his hands moving to your shoulder where the scar is, “I sat outside your room while you rested, waiting for you to heal.”

You don’t remember much of that moment, only remembering the bang out of the gun before you were tackling Soap onto the ground. It was all a blur after that, the pain medication making everything spotty and difficult to remember. 

What you could remember, or what you actually should say what you now realized from Simon’s words was that the shadows under your door that you thought you had been hallucinating in a medication filled haze was actually Simon.

“I thought you were a monster outside my door.”

“No, just me,” he runs his fingers softly over the cotton covering the scar, “Johnny kept laughing at me when he and the others would come check up on you,” he says quietly. 

“That was months ago, Simon,” you whisper, your fingers running back and forth along the back of his neck. 

“You’re still the same old guy,” Simon’s voice finds that same fondness again as his hand moves from your shoulder to cup your face, “but you’re mine now.”

You moved your hand from his neck to place it on top of his, “not much has changed, I guess,” you moved forward to press your lips to his to keep your mouth occupied and to keep it from saying the words at the tip of your tongue. 

Kissing doesn’t help, it actually only makes it worse. You love Simon, and you’re all his. 

You try again with another kiss, only to be met with the same outcome. At least while your mouth is occupied, it gives you less of a chance to let the words spew forth. 

Simon’s tongue tastes mainly of the tea he just drank, but also with a hint of minty toothpaste. He must’ve ducked out of your bedroom to brush his teeth while you were in the kitchen trying to avoid Price. You made a mental note to ask Simon what the combination tasted like. Maybe the minty taste would be hardly noticeable as it was washed away by the tea, or maybe it would combine to taste like how orange juice and toothpaste do. The thought makes you shudder. 

“Feel good?” Simon asks when he pulls away, 

“Yeah,” you breathe. You weren’t about to tell Simon that your reaction was to the thought you just had, and not his tongue. 

His hand moves to the back of your neck to pull you back into another kiss. His tongue was quicker than it was before to make its presence known. Simon’s cock also follows suit when you feel it poke at your hip. 

“Feel good?” You parrot, smirking when you see just how pink Simon’s face is.

You press your lips to the redness on Simon’s cheek before moving down to his neck. You’re tempted to do what he had done and leave a mark, but you had other wants. Instead, you simply press a kiss to one side, but let your lips linger. You pull away, but not before dragging your lips across his pulse before continuing lower. 

Simon’s legs spread to accompany your body, his feet all the way on either side of the bed. “Can I take these off?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes. 

Wordlessly, Simon nods before he raises his hips to make it easier. 

“No underwear,” you softly laugh once his shorts are gone. Laughing is an easy coverup to the nervous feeling that runs through your body. He wasn’t even fully hard, yet his cock was still impressive. And now, kneeling between his legs, this is the closest you have been to the largest cock you have ever seen. 

“Can I-”

“Anything,” Simon breathes, cutting you off, “you can do anything you want,” he ends, his cock giving a twitch against his stomach. 

You hear him gasp above you when you run your hands up his thighs and through the soft hair. The next noise he lets out is a low whine when your lips meet the head of his cock. It soon begins to thicken and fill with blood when you go lower and run your tongue up until you’re back at where your lips just were. 

You wrap your fingers around the base, the saliva from your tongue making it easy to bring your fingers to your lips after you take the head of his cock into your mouth. You wish you could take it deeper and get it into your throat, but the most you can take only has the head, and a little bit of the thick vein along the underside resting against your tongue. 

Simon doesn’t mind, at least that’s what you assume by the noises he’s letting out above you. You hear the soft sound of his head falling back into the pillows as you try to go lower. Not to your surprise, it feels as if you’ve barely taken any more of his cock before you feel your gag reflex threaten to bring tears to your eyes. 

To compensate for what you can’t take, your forearm lifts from the bed and your hand goes down to Simon’s balls. Your fingers roll his heavy sack and if cock wasn’t going to choke you, the load his full, heavy balls would shoot down your throat likely would. 

Simon lets out a groan, the noise going straight to your cock. Trapped in the confines of the shorts you had worn to bed, the most you could do was spread your legs to grind your cock against the mattress. The feeling distracts you from the suction you had on the head of Simon’s cock as it pulls a moan from your chest. 

Under the feelings of your hands and mouth on his cock, the added stimulation of the vibration has Simon’s hips twitching up off the bed. The action catches you both off guard, setting off your gag reflex before tears are spilling from your eyes a moment later. 

To your astonishment, Simon’s cock spills onto your tongue as you pull away. The feel of it twitching sends a wave of want through your body to take it deeper into your mouth until you can feel it twitch and throb in the wet heat of your throat.

You suck in air through your nose as you try to swallow all that his cock shoots onto your tongue. As you lay still, swallowing bitter waves of his come, Simon too lays still as you listen to his muffled moans hitting the pillow. It sends a rush of affection through your body knowing that Simon isn’t trying to accidentally choke you again, and the feeling then burns into lust at the noise of fingers balling up the sheets as he tries to hold back. 

You drag your hips into the bed as a reward for causing Simon such pleasure. You let out another moan at the friction to your cock, and Simon answers with one of his. His hands unclench from the sheets slowly as the aftershocks of his orgasm subsides, his cock softening on your tongue. 

You pull off his cock with a gasp and then feel one of Simon’s hands on your shirt pulling you up. He moves to kiss you, but stops once he sees the tear tracks on your face.

“You okay?” He asks softly, his thumb running through the tears to wipe them away. 

“Yeah,” you respond, sending him a small smile, “sorry.”

“For what?” He questions, his brows furrowing, “I made you fucking cry I-”

“It was an accident,” you say, quickly cutting Simon off, “I wanted to take more, but I couldn't.” Your voice goes quiet, but you’re not quite sure why you suddenly feel so embarrassed. You had just made Simon come hard enough to still feel the warmth of it in your stomach, you had no reason to be embarrassed.  

“You’ll get there,” Simon pulls your pants down low enough to hook the waistband below your balls, “then I’ll fuck your face,” he pulls you into a wet kiss, his tongue mapping out your mouth so he can taste himself on your tongue. His fingers wrap around your cock to stroke at the sensitive flesh, “you’ll take it so deep I’ll come straight down your throat.”

“That’ll take a long time,” you moan and glance down at Simon’s soft cock before you’re pulled into another kiss. 

“That’s okay,” Simon responds before giving you another kiss. “Wanna take my time with you,” he murmurs. His soft words are full of promise that sends a rush of excitement through your body that ends at your cock. 

White ropes of come shoot from the head, coating Simon’s fingers, and like the first time, also his shirt. You moan into Simon’s mouth as he kisses you again, making it hard to breathe as you gasp and try to keep up with the kiss. 

“You’re coming so hard just from my hand,” Simon observes quietly, “I wonder what it’ll be like when I get them inside of you,” his fingers from your softening cock to your balls. Two of them sneak beneath your waistband to rub at your taint. 

Much like Simon’s had earlier, your hips twitch forward at the feel of his fingers. You groan, more of your come dribbling out of the head of your cock as your aftershocks end. 

Dirty and spent, Simon wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest. Your soft cock rubs against his, pulling a gasp from each of you. 

“You’re sensitive,” Simon observes. 

You roll your hips into his, laughing around the gasp that falls from your mouth when Simon whimpers, “you are too.”

Hand

Wanna take my time with you. 

Those words ring through your head every time you both have had a moment to yourselves after that. Your free time was sparse, and you wanted to spend every moment of it that you could with Simon. It’s not like you had time to get Simon’s fingers inside of you slow enough for you to take his cock, but you learned quickly that there were other things you could do that you could both enjoy. 

You knew that you wouldn’t have time to slowly try and take his cock deeper into your mouth and then into your throat, but you also knew that your mouth could get his cock wet enough that Simon could fuck your fist. 

Simon groans when you get back onto your feet and pull him into a kiss, “you like how it tastes?” He asks after pulling his tongue free from your mouth. 

“Do you?” You ask back. You raise your other hand up to his mouth, “spit,” you command, not even letting Simon answer. 

He spits into your waiting open palm, keeping his eyes locked to yours, “good boy,” you whisper as you run the wetness on your palm across his cock. 

You had to be quick. You didn’t even know how long it would be before you were called onto another mission or task to complete. You had just gotten back from one just nearly an hour ago and didn’t even give yourself the time to pull your gear off before Simon was pushing his balaclava up enough to press his lips to yours in a heated kiss. 

It was intoxicating seeing such an intimidating looking man all decked out in his gear knocked down and only able to fuck your fist as he chased his pleasure. 

Your cock was hard and aching in the confines of your pants, and though one of your hands was free, you kept it where it was and continued watching Simon. Luckily, the display is something you can’t take your eyes away from, so you aren’t even wanting to touch your cock. 

“Wish we had more time,” Simon whines before you press your lips to his to swallow the noise. He moans into your mouth and when you pull away, his lips chase after yours. He lets out a loud noise of protest when you step away, the noise making you let out a quiet laugh. 

You come back holding a tube of lube, Simon’s eyes glancing down to it then back to your eyes. He stares up at you when you push him back onto the bed. It’s messy and the sheets and blanket are all crumpled, but you’re too focused on Simon to care. 

Simon makes a low noise in his throat when your hand returns between his legs. The lube makes it much easier to stroke up and down his cock, and the squelch of the lube rings out through the room. You rest your weight on his back and hook your chin over his shoulder to get a better picture. 

“Better?” You whisper into his ear. 

Simon leans back into your chest and fucks his hips up into the circle of your fist you’ve made for his cock. “It’s a little,” his voice breaks off with a moan before he continues, “cold,” he whimpers, his hips pumping up and down. 

You laugh softly before nipping at his lobe, “sorry sweetheart,” you coo, “I’ll keep some in my pocket so it’s always warm.”

Simon’s head falls back onto your shoulder when you tighten your hand around his cock. You’re not even having to move your hand, Simon’s hips are doing all of the work for you. 

“What’re you thinking about, Simon?” You ask. “Are you imagining its my hole you’re fucking and not my hand?”

Simon lets out a groan and the vibrations travel down his back to your cock where you’re kneeling behind him on the bed. The stimulation makes you gasp and your hips twitch forward into the rough material of his gear. 

“Yeah,” Simon moans, “thinking about your cock, too,” he says, his hips speeding up.

“Yeah? Where, baby?” You ask, the pet name slipping free on accident.

“In my-” Simon tries, but his answer breaks off into another moan. 

“In your mouth, or your hole?”

Simon’s answer comes in the form of another moan as he comes over your fist. You stroke him through it until his cock begins to soften and he lets out whimpers of overstimulation. 

You pull your hand away and Simon lets out another noise, the rest of his weight falling heavily onto your chest. You wipe your hand onto the sheets, trying not to grimace. 

“Did you just-”

“You want me to wipe it on your gear?” 

Simon’s head jerks up, the skin of his neck that you can see from where he pulled up his balaclava is red. He clears his throat before responding, “no,” he says quietly. 

You press your smile into the back of his neck, hearing the obvious lie in his voice. Your smile falls and your body tenses when you hear the sound of movement outside your bedroom door. 

“Get your gear back on, we need to go, Now.” Even when muffled through the door, Price’s tone sounds just as commanding as it always does. 

Thighs

You could admit that it was frustrating not being able to take care of your erection before you were whisked away to your next mission, but it was always something that lingered in the back of your mind. 

You could only let out a sigh when you heard the sound of Price’s boots walking away. Simon looked at you like he either wanted to cry, or he wanted to cry for you. You couldn’t help but feel annoyed as you looked down at him when you got off the bed, his soft cock still hanging out of his pants. 

To occupy yourself, which actually meant to make your fucking boner go away so the others wouldn’t see it, you walked out of the room to the attached bathroom. Not every base you were stationed at had one, but fortunately, this one did. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say to Simon when you’ve come back in with a wet cloth. 

“I wanted-”

You cut him off with a soft kiss, “we’ll take care of it later,” you say once you’ve pulled back. “Plus,” you run the warm cloth across his cock carefully before tucking it back inside his underwear, “I need this to go away, and hearing about all of the things you were going to do to me wouldn’t help.”

“You’re probably right,” Simon responds before he presses his lips to yours again.

Once you’ve been briefed and are in the transport, you feel Soap’s eyes on you. You glance over at him but quickly look away, not wanting to give him the reaction. You ball your hands up into tight fights, grateful for the gloves you wore to avoid the crescent moon marks that your nails would leave. 

You weren’t in the mood for his or Gaz’s words or looks, you just hoped the mission would go without a hitch. 

Once on the field, you let your frustration fuel your actions. You weren’t sure if it was necessarily smart or healthy, but it kept you focused. 

To no surprise of your own, you get shot at, which is normal, and do some shooting of your own. What does take you by surprise is when you feel a sharp pain hit your arm. Soap takes him down as you quickly apply pressure to the wound. You let out a sigh of relief when you’re able to find the hole in the wall where the bullet ended up, that’s the least you could ask for. 

When the mission is over and you’re back at the transport, you feel lightheaded, but you were going to blame that on how far you had to run, not from the blood loss. Under Price’s careful eye, Gaz patches you up lightly, knowing that it would soon be taken off once you were back on base before you took a shower. 

“All good,” Soap says when Gaz is done. He smacks lightly at the bandage and you swat his hand away. 

Simon, who was practically fucking vibrating with anger locks a hand around Soap wrist and pries it away. The noise Soap makes almost pulls a laugh from your chest, but you have more important things to focus on, like making sure Simon doesn’t fucking break Soap’s wrist. 

“It’s okay,” you say to Simon, wrapping a hand around his wrist, “you know Soap doesn’t hit that hard,” you reassure. 

“Hey!” Soap squawks, and this time, you can’t help but laugh at the noise. “Control your fucking boyfriend,” he grumbles, rubbing at his wrist when Simon lets go. 

You pull Soap’s wrist closer with your uninjured arm and look over the skin after pulling back the fabric that covers it. The redness of Simon’s grip is already nearly faded, “you’ll live,” you say and let Soap pull his hand away, looking like an injured animal about to go lick its wound.

You try your best to ignore the boyfriend comment, but every time you look at Gaz and Soap you’re reminded of it. You’re reminded of it not because of the close proximity of the two men, but because when you look at them, you’re reminded of your own relationship with Simon. No, Simon wasn’t fucking cradling your wrist in his hand like Gaz was doing with Soap’s, but the affection they showed each other made you think of your affection for Simon. 

You could now understand why they would give you such smug looks and then look at each other. At least you were actually injured, but you would let Soap have his moment. You shook your head and rolled your eyes at them when they looked at you. In turn, Soap sent a glare your way, but it quickly fell when you saw his eyes move away and look to Simon. 

Once back at base after all of the excitement has gone down, Simon acts as if he’s your shadow. You even had to push him by the shoulders out of the doorway to close the bathroom door. Not that you didn’t want to shower with Simon, you wanted to have a moment to yourself to breathe. 

The water at your feet runs red once you’re under the warm spray, though, it doesn’t take long for it to lighten to a pinker shade before it runs clear. You press your forehead to the cool tile and your eyes slip shut. You breathe in and out slowly, struggling at certain intervals when the water makes the wound on your arm sting. 

You clean yourself slowly, slower than you normally do before you turn the spray off. You dry off and put a clean, dry bandage over the injury under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. A small jostle of pain runs through your arm as you put a shirt on, but you’ll take that over something that could have been much worse. Thankfully, it’s easier to put your pants on. 

You let out a sign as you place your hand on the doorknob, not knowing what to expect from Simon on the other side. 

He stands in the middle of the room, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s at least dressed down a little bit, with just his undershirt and pants being the remnants of the rest of his gear. He steps up to you quickly, panting. He must have been pacing, you thought, trying to let out the rest of his energy. 

“I’m-”

“Don’t!” He barks, cutting you off. When you both  flinch at his tone, he lets out a heavy  sign before he speaks again, “just let me check, please?” He asks quietly. 

“I just put on a new bandage,” you say, holding your arm out. 

He inspects it closely, holding it in careful hands. You feel a laugh bubble up in your chest when he holds your arm up to inspect the underside of your arm. A smile makes its way onto your face, but when Simon puts your arm down, he looks like he’s about to break down. You don’t even want to think about how he looked when he was waiting outside of your bedroom door. 

“Come here,” you command softly, opening your arms so Simon’s chest can fall onto yours as he buries his face into the side of your neck. 

You feel his breath on your neck as he breathes you in and holds you close. His arms are almost too tight around you, but you don’t say anything. When the silence does break, it’s from Simon, “if something would have happened to you-”

“Nothing happened to me, Simon.”

You couldn’t see his face, but could practically feel his eyes looking down at your arm.  

You brought your arm up to Simon’s head to run your fingers through his hair. It was wild and messy from where he had pulled off his balaclava. “It only grazed me.” After a few moments more of silence, you put some pace in between your bodies, just enough to place both of your hands on his shoulders, “I’m still here.” 

“I couldn’t be here if you weren’t,” he responds softly, his eyes looking away from yours. 

The words hit you hard, and there’s a voice in the back of your head saying you could say the same thing about him. When the words do come out, they aren’t the same as is, but you hope they put across the same meaning.

“I love you.”

Simon’s eyes widen as they look back up at yours. He claims your mouth in a kiss that has you feeling lightheaded again when he pulls away. “I love you,” he pants around the words when he says them, but repeats them over and over again as he backs you into the bed.

Simon wastes no time getting you naked before he’s ripping off the rest of his gear. When you’re both fully naked, you’re sent back to earlier in the day and you’re reminded of what you didn’t get. It gets you dizzy how quickly you get hard, but your hands stay wrapped around Simon’s neck as you keep kissing and kissing and kissing. 

“Can I try something?” Simon asks, panting after he pulls back from the kiss. 

It takes a minute for your brain to catch up and answer his question, but you give a quick nod after a few seconds. You sit down on the edge of the bed and watch as Simon opens the drawer to the bedside table and pulls out the bottle of lube you had used earlier. You almost expected Simon to get behind you on the bed and have a repeat of what happened earlier, but instead, Simon commands you in a soft voice to roll over. 

He presses a kiss to the side of your neck after he gets on top of you, and you smile into the comforter when he presses another one to the other side. His hands bring your thighs together before you hear the sound of the lube being opened. 

You let out a gasp when his wet cock is slowly making its way in between your thighs. Simon was right, it was cold. It heats up quickly though as Simon slides his cock back and forth in your thighs. His cock nudges your balls on each thrust that he gives, making you let out muffled moans into the bedspread. 

When you turn your neck, Simon presses his lips to yours. You let out a noise at the loss of air, it wasn’t like you were going to break the kiss to tell him you had turned your head to breathe, not for him to kiss you.  You could just breathe when the kiss was over, that would be okay.

When Simon pulls away, his hips still. You raise your ass up to be able to wrap your fingers around your cock, but Simon grabs your upper arm to pull it away. 

“Let me,” he says beside your ear before his hand replaces yours. 

“You’re going to crush me,” you respond, moaning as Simon bites into the side of your neck. 

“Do you not think I’m strong enough to hold myself up?” He asks, laughing in your ear. 

You knew he would be, but Simon was still a big man. Yes, there were times where the thought of Simon’s weight on top of you turned you on, but you didn’t exactly want to test out if you’d feel the same way after losing blood from an injury. 

“We’ll see,” you respond, hiding your smile into the bed. 

Simon’s huff hits the back of your neck before he keeps going. He grunts into your neck as his pace picks up. Occasionally, the slap of skin on skin rings out through the room, but each time the sound does, Simon slows down and places a kiss on whatever inch of skin he can reach. 

It gets to the point where you nearly want to yell back at him, to beg him to go faster, but when you open your mouth to do just that, a moan spills out as your orgasm hits you. It comes as a surprise as you spill over Simon’s fist. You press your face into the bed to muffle your yells of pleasure as you’re finally able to have the release you craved.

You turn your neck again to breathe, but this time, Simon doesn’t claim your mouth in a kiss. Instead, he pulls his cock from your slick thighs and tugs at his cock. Your skin doesn’t even have time to cool before Simon is shooting ropes of white that land on your thighs, ass, and back. 

For what feels like a long time, Simon stays kneeled above you, even after you fall onto the bed. You thought after you did, that Simon would rest his weight on top of yours and crush you into the bed, but the next time you feel him on you is when his mouth is on your thighs. 

He licks at the skin where his come landed, continuing up your body until he reaches the small of your back. He does the same at the small of your back before he moves down to the globes of your ass. His saliva cooling on your skin makes you shiver, and you press back on shaky legs into his touch. 

You doubt any of his come had landed on your hole, but Simon still spreads you apart licks with broad strokes. Your soft cock gives an interested twitch, still coated in the mess you made as you make a low noise in your throat.

Simon pulls away once he’s deemed you’re clean. Your hips meet the wet spot again, but you’re too tired to even move away from it. After he’s crawled back up your body, Simon does the work for you and rolls your back into his chest. 

“I should probably go shower,” he murmurs into the back of your neck as he tangles your legs together. 

“I’ll keep your spot warm,” you respond around a yawn. 

Simon presses a kiss to your cheek before he leaves. You’re even too tired to crane your neck and watch his ass as he walks the few steps to the bathroom. You fall asleep to the muffled sound of the shower, missing when Simon whispers a soft thank you when he gets behind you in the bed, his spot nice and warm. 

Just the tip

It feels as if Simon barely touches you for the next few weeks until your arm is nearly fully healed. Near the end of it, when your injury has scabbed over, it gets to the point you feel yourself getting hard when Simon lets his touch linger. 

It leaves you feeling so fucking needy that you’re stupid for it. Stupid enough you convince Simon to spar with you. Simon was a big fucking man, and though he was big, his size didn’t slow him down. He was faster and quieter than most people expected, information that he used to his advantage whenever he could. 

“Take him down!” Soap yelled from the side, stealing your attention away. You think Soap was still angry about his wrist.

Simon fixes you with a heated look that’s a mix of the glare he gave Soap, and determination. It takes everything inside you to not get hard. 

Simon charges at you, but you stand your ground. You dodge out of the way before going back in, Simon had bulk and he was quick, but you knew you could use that against him. Or so you thought. He’s quicker than you are,  easily getting his leg between your own to trip you up. 

You go down hard. Though there was a training mat laid out, falling onto the arm that was grazed by the bullet a few weeks ago didn’t feel good. You don’t even notice the stab was broken and you were bleeding again, until Simon’s eyes zero in on it. 

You glance down at it before you get back into position. You’re ready to charge, but Price places a hand on your shoulder, “as much as Soap wants to see you take him down, I don’t want you to get blood on the mat.”

You let out a huff, but you suppose he was right, “fine,” you grumble. You grab your towel and water bottle before exiting the room to your bedroom.

“This isn’t over,” you hear Soap say behind you, and don’t see the way he points a finger in Simon’s direction. 

Soap jogs up to your side before he’s grabbing your arm, “you okay?” He asks.

“I’m fine,” you respond, trying to keep your annoyance from your tone. You shrug your arm from his gasp before you walk through your bedroom to the bathroom to get to the medicine cabinet. 

You swat his hand away when he tries to help and he scoffs loudly before finally giving up. “Want me to beat him up?” He asks.

You make eye contact with him in the mirror before you look away to finish placing the bandage on your arm after cleaning the area, “as funny as that would be,” Soap’s face scrunches up in offense, pulling a laugh from you, “he took me down fair and square.”

“It was a dirty play,” Soap responds. He jumps when a throat clears from behind you, “see you later!” He says quickly and claps you on the shoulder before leaving the bathroom and exiting your room.

Simon watches Soap the entire time, only turning to look your way when he’s exited the room.

You walk out of the bathroom as Simon goes to shut the door, “don’t start,” you say once Simon has turned around. 

“You were bleeding,” Simon says softly as he steps close enough to grab your arm to inspect it. This close, he smells of deodorant and clean sweat, it’s intoxicating. 

“I didn’t even notice at first,” you place a hand on his face, “not until you were staring at it,” his face still looked stormy with negative emotions. “You were just trying to distract me so you could win,” you add, hoping that your joke would make him feel better. 

It works a little bit with the small smile that appears on Simon’s face, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “you almost had me,” he says before he lets your arm go. 

“Let’s finish it then,” you step closer until your chest is flush with his, “we’ve got the space,” you whisper against his mouth. 

Simon opens his mouth as if he wants to protest, but you cut him off by mashing your mouth to his. He goes easily when you flip him around and push him onto the bed. Still connected at the mouth, Simon goes down with a grunt that breaks off into a moan when you push your tongue past his lips. 

Realistically, it hasn’t been that long since you’ve gotten off, but without it being from Simon’s touch, it doesn’t take too long for your cock to be straining against the front of your shorts. 

You were surprised you were even able to get him to spar with you. Maybe it was because Price, Soap, and Gaz were also in the room and he was trying to avoid Soap and Gaz from being able to make jokes about there being trouble in paradise. Or maybe it was because he missed your touch just as you missed his, even though he was the one that established this unspoken rule that he was going to avoid touching you until your arm had fully healed. 

You had fun on your own, and even found entertainment in being loud enough for Simon to hear. There had also been times where it excited you over the idea of being caught, and whenever the feeling hit you, so did your orgasm. The clarity that came afterwards nearly made you forget, but it would always rush back when Simon would enter the room. 

It was always pretty obvious what you had been doing, from the salty smell of your come in the air, to sweat that shone against your skin as you cooled down from your high. You thought that the site would bring Simon closer, but it only made him keep his distance. It hurt at first, but after picking up on the looks he would give you and the way his chest would expand slowly after he would enter the room, like he was trying to relieve what you were just doing through the smell alone, it just made you want him even more. 

It drove you crazy with want and frustration, but at least Simon felt the same. 

“Don’t want to hurt you,” Simon grits between his teeth, like the moan he lets out is actually one of pain when you grind your hips down into his.

“I need it,” you whine into Simon’s mouth. Your need only gets worse when Simon’s hands go below your waist band to clutch your asscheeks in his hands. It’s a tight grip that’s almost too painful, but that pain is overtaken by pleasure when Simon grinds your hips together.   

You pull back from the kiss when Simon’s hands push the garment away to have better access. You raise yourself and look at Simon with lust filled eyes as you pull your shirt off. Your shorts are more difficult than your shirt, but it becomes much easier when Simon rolls you over and he’s on top helping you get them off. 

“What would you have done if you’d have gotten hard while we were-” he begins to ask when he sees your lack of underwear, but you cut him off with a kiss. 

“Hopefully this,” you answer, sliding your hands up his shirt. 

Simon claims your mouth in another kiss when you pull his pants off and throw them to join the pile of the rest of your clothes. He takes your lip with him with his teeth, “quiet,” he says against your mouth, knowing that you were about to comment on how he didn’t have underwear on either. 

You wrap your legs around his hips, high enough that when Simon grinds forward, his cock is sandwiched between your asscheeks. When he pulls back and brings his hips forward again, you both groan as the slick head of his cock catches on your hole. 

On the second pass of the head, his hips still, making you whine in protest, “please.”

Simon groans like your words hurt him, “I can’t. I haven’t gotten you ready with my fingers,” he says, his hands cradling your face. 

“Just the tip?” 

“Just the tip?” Simon parrots, his eyes light up, like your question caused a lightbulb of realization to light up above his head. 

If you thought it was crazy convincing Simon to spar with you, it felt as if you were out of your mind when he pushed your legs down and rolled you over. 

You lay with bated breath for Simon and bring your ass back closer to Simon. You arch your back and you’re almost to the point of losing all self respect and pulling your hands free from under the pillow and bringing them to your asscheeks and spreading them open.

“Breathe,” Simon whispers into your ear after he leans down. 

You don’t even realize how tense you’ve become until Simon’s whisper hits your ear. You let out a whine into the pillow when Simon’s cock is on your hole, rubbing the moisture of his precome around your hole. To add to it, Simon spits on your hole and rubs it around the tight pucker with the pad of his finger. 

You both gasp when he finally presses the head inside, “so tight,” Simon moans, his body blanketing yours. The sheen of sweat on your body makes it hard, but he grips your hips tightly in a bruising grip, keeping you still. 

You squirm against his grip, trying to get his cock deeper, even though you know you shouldn’t without the proper preparation. You could feel that your orgasm was there, all it needed was a little push. 

“Stop!” Simon holds you down into the pillow by the back of your neck, his tone sharp. 

His words make you freeze and you clench around what’s inside you. It makes Simon groan and pull his hand away to instead put it on the middle of your back. His other hand moves from your waist to below his cock. In between your balls and his cock, he presses his fingers to your taint. 

You come with a yell into the pillow, Simon’s hand pressing you down into the bed as you shake from the intensity. His other hand moves the tiny distance from your taint to wrap around his cock. 

He leans down into the crook of your sweaty neck to muffle his moans as he strokes his cock. It doesn’t take him long for him to come and once he does, you moan when you feel his spend hit your hole. Some of it goes in your hole, but the most of it splatters and leaks out, going down your taint right where his fingers just were. 

“You’re filthy,” he says, his voice deep and rough. 

You turn your head to pant open-mouthed, your cheek against the pillow. You wanted to repeat the same thing right back at him, but your brain has difficulty getting your mouth to get the words out. 

Your brain finally does catch up when you feel the bed shift as Simon leans down to lick at your hole. “You’re fucking filthy.”

“At least I clean up the messes I make,” he says before going back in. Unlike last time, his tongue goes inside as he licks out the mess his cock made. He groans deep in his chest when you bring one of your hands back to his head to get his tongue deeper. 

When Simon deems you clean, your hole now wet with spit, you pull him by the hand in his hair up to where you can get your lips against his. You make a noise into his mouth when his tongue presses inside, past your teeth until his tongue is against yours. 

“We should probably go shower,” Simon murmurs, though he really doesn’t look like he wants to, laying on the pillow beside yours.

You run a hand down his back. You’ll get up and take a shower after you’ve rested your eyes for a little bit. You feel Simon press his lips to the bandage on your arm before you feel the weight of his arm around your body as it pulls you closer.  

Hole

Normally, when it was time for you to go home, you were always excited to finally get back, but when Price finally told you that it was time for a much needed break that wasn’t on base, you were terribly nervous.

You thought it would be okay, it’s not like you and Simon had spent every waking moment together, but the feeling that hit you when Simon turned in the opposite direction of your bedroom to go pack up his own, you knew it wouldn’t be okay.

You stayed silent when Simon came back into the room with one of his suitcases, and when he went into your dresser to pull out a few of the shirts he brought from his room to yours, you bit hard into your lip, fearful of what might come out if you opened it.

“I don’t have much, but I hope you’ll have the space for it,” he says as he folds the clothing before placing it in the bag. 

You froze from your place beside him, wondering if you heard what he said correctly, “what?”

“Do you have space in your closet? Or I can shove it in a drawer if you need me to,” he answers, not looking up from the suitcase as he finishes folding his clothes. 

“Yeah,” you shake your head softly and smile down at your hands as they rested on the clothes you still had to fold, “I’ve got plenty of space.” The clothes could wait, you decided. 

Simon makes a noise of surprise when you turn his neck and press your lips together. His hands move to your waist to pull you closer as he responds eagerly to the kiss. He chuckles softly after he pulls back and you chase after his mouth. 

“We have to finish packing,” he says against your mouth. 

“We’ve got time,” you respond. Not really, but kissing Simon was much more enjoyable than packing. 

After the impromptu make out session that had to be cut short before your hands were down each other’s pants, it’s finally time to go. 

You let out a dramatic sigh when Soap steps up to you to say goodbye. You can’t quite tell if the way his bottom lip trembles is actually real, or if he’s just trying to be funny. You pull him in for a hug before you can think more on it. 

Gaz, who you had just hugged, joins in to sandwich your body between theirs. You nearly expect Simon and Price to join in, but they only stare at you. Simon just looks bored, whereas Price has a small smile on his face. 

When you’re on the plane, one of Simon’s hands finds yours, and his fingers rest on top of yours until it’s time to get off. 

Your key feels foreign in your fingers, but once you’re through the door, it all feels familiar. The air feels stale, but that’s something you could easily fix the next day by opening up the windows. 

It’s nighttime. It feels oddly permanent the way night always does when it feels like the rest of the world is settling in. The world being your area, at least. The feeling really only hits you at home. Back on base, it didn’t matter what time it was, you could be whisked away at any time to do what was asked of you.

“I’ll save the tour for tomorrow,” you tell Simon as you walk through your house to the bedroom. You almost want to slow down to make sure Simon is able to follow you through the dark, but the sound of his footsteps stays close behind you. 

You flick the light on and place your bags into a corner of your room. You grab your bathroom essentials before walking past Simon, letting out a laugh when you see the way he’s looking all around the room. 

You wait for Simon to join you as you toss your toothbrush into the cup near the sink and toothpaste onto the counter, “you can finish looking around if you want,” you say when you hear Simon enter. 

“I’ll wait for the tour tomorrow,” he responds as he wraps his arms around you. He hugs you to his chest for a moment before placing his toothbrush and toothpaste in the same spots you had. It makes your heart swell. When you arrived back on base, you didn’t expect to be coming home with another toothbrush sitting beside yours when you arrived home. 

You help each other undress before you’re stepping into the shower. It’s wet limbs and pointy elbows under the warm spray. You expect it to get on your nerves when Simon ends up accidentally elbowing you, but it only makes you laugh. Even after it happens again and Simon’s face is going red (but that’s just probably from the heat), you feel nothing in your heart but love. 

“Fuck,” you say under your breath after pulling the curtain back, “forgot the towel.” Your nipples grow hard from the change in temperature when you open the door and go through your bedroom to grab a towel from your bag. You could’ve checked under the sink, but you were going to wash everything in your bag anyway, so it really didn’t matter. 

Simon stands naked in front of the sink brushing his teeth. If he wasn’t so fucking good looking, you’d be annoyed as he dripped all over the bathroom rug in front of the sink. You towel off quickly in the doorway before he’s able to catch you staring.

“Cold out there?” He asks around the toothbrush, one of his hands going to your chest to pad his thumb across one of your hard nipples. 

You swat his hand away and step around him to pull on the shirt and shorts you also brought with you, “forgot to adjust the thermostat,” you say as you grab your toothbrush. 

Simon’s toothbrush makes a soft noise when he places his back into the cup. You watch with a soft smile on your face as he places the cap on his toothpaste and puts it neatly beside the cup. 

“Are you going to watch me?” You ask, your toothbrush held close enough to your mouth to smell the minty paste. 

“Yeah,” Simon answers, saying it like it’s the easiest question in the world to answer. He grabs the towel you just used and dries himself off as you brush your teeth.  

Back in your bedroom, you suddenly feel shy. Turning off the light makes it easier, especially with how sad it makes you to see Simon cover himself up. It’s only a pair of underwear, but still. In the dark, he finds your body as if on reflex and pulls your back to his chest. 

Simon lets out a sigh, his warm breath tickling the back of your neck, “what are we going to do tomorrow?” 

“Probably go get groceries after I check what’s left in the cabinets,” you respond as you run your hand up and down his arm. 

“Good. I think we left the lube back on base.”

“I’ll add it to the list,” you say around your smile.

You feel Simon press a kiss to the back of your neck. It makes you feel crazy knowing just a few minutes ago you had been nervous, and now, you were surrounded with a level of comfort you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“I love you,” Simon whispers behind you. 

“I love you too,” you respond before you’re falling asleep. 

-

Soap calls a few weeks later. 

“Hello?” You asked into the phone. The caller ID said unknown, you probably shouldn’t have answered it in the first place.

Soap’s voice comes through the other line. Yeah, you shouldn’t have answered it. “Hey!” He says, his voice full of excitement. 

“Soap?” You hadn’t expected to hear from any of them so soon. “And Kyle!” You hear from a distance on the other side of the line. 

You were confused for a second before your brain was able to catch up, “hey, Kyle. Hey, Johnny,” you say, a smile coming onto your face. 

“How are you?” Johnny asks, “how’s Simon?”

“Good,” you glance over into the kitchen where Simon was, “we’re good. How’d you get my number?”

“Price gave it to us. He also told us to tell you that he was sorry. For whatever reason.”

You shook your head, your smile growing. You were sure you could forgive Price just this once. 

“Price? What, not on a first name basis?”

“Oh, we are. It’s just that I’m the better John so I refuse to call him that.”

You’re unable to contain the laugh that bubbles up from your chest, “I miss you guys,” you say into the phone once your laughter has died down. 

“Who do you miss more?” Johnny asks. 

“You ruined it,” you answer with a sigh. 

That sounded like he said Kyle,” you hear Kyle say. 

You’re tempted to hang up once you hear them start bickering, but with it being the most entertainment you’ve had since you got home, (outside of Simon) you stayed on the line and tried not to laugh too hard. You didn’t need to be roped up in their lover’s quarrel. 

“Trouble in paradise?” You ask. 

“Fuck off!” They both yell in unison. 

“Who was that?” Simon asks when you walked through the doorway of the kitchen. 

“Kyle and Johnny,” you respond as you lean against the counter. It looked like a tornado had gone through your kitchen with all of the cabinets being open, but you just blamed it on Simon still getting used to where everything went. Or maybe that was just how he liked to put things away. You were learning new things about each other every day. 

“How’d they get your number?” Simon asks as he chuckles. 

“Our commander betrayed me,” you said sadly. 

“You poor thing,” Simon responds. He closes one of the cabinets before he walks over to place a kiss on your cheek. 

“Gaz said he wants us to go on a double-date together,” you go to help Simon put the rest of the groceries away, but really it’s just because you want to stay close to him. 

“What kind of date?” Simon asks. 

“Don’t know,” you smile as you think back on what he said, “he said he thinks we’re lame for the walks we go on and we need more excitement.”

“I like our walks,” Simon responds, a hint of offense in his tone. It would be so easy to fall into a routine of staying inside the house, especially after how tiring the last few months were on base, so the walks were a great way to get outside.

“One night out won’t kill us,” you say as Simon finishes up with putting away the rest of what was in the bags, “at least I hope it won’t.”

“We have plenty of fun here,” Simon responds. The placement of his hands on your hips after he steps forward goes to show that he’s talking about a different type of fun. 

“That’s just with us-”

Simon cuts you off with a kiss that leaves you gasping, “I tend to keep it that way,” he says, his words full of heat and possessiveness.

It’s just another day when Simon finally gets his cock inside you. You weren’t really surprised though, it’s like you expected a grand romantic gesture with candles, rose petals, and chocolate. Truthfully, the only thing you expected was for a lot of lube to be involved.

Just from him getting you ready with his fingers, you feel fucking soaked from the lube. “Simon,” you whine when you pull away from the kiss his lips had you locked in, “we’re going to run out.” He ignores your words and swoops down to kiss you again.

“You didn’t buy any when we were at-”

“No!” You moan as his two fingers brush against your prostate, “I’ll never be able to get the lube out of these sheets,” you say as you feel the lube that drips down your taint joins the small puddle between your legs. 

“I’ll clean them, baby,” he says against your mouth, “just let me get you ready,” he whispers. You both hold your breath as a third finger, coated in too much lube in your opinion, presses to your hole. “ So fucking tight,” Simon looks down to watch his finger go slowly inside, “not going to last when I’m actually inside.”

“You won’t be able to get inside if you use all the lube,” you bite back. 

Simon chuckles, his other hand goes to one of your nipples to pinch it, “cheeky little fucker,” he growls. His fingers move in and out of you slowly, but at the sound of the moans you let out, the speed of the thrusts of his fingers increase. 

“I’m ready,” you say to Simon before he tries pressing in a fourth finger. The thought makes your cock throb against your stomach. With the pace Simon was going, you were sure he would slowly work you up to it, to take his entire fist and not just three of his fingers. 

The thrust of his fingers slows down before he pulls them out. Your hole feels open and ready for his cock, and you feel a rush of excitement when the wet head of it kisses your hole. Your legs tighten around Simon’s waist and you hold your breath in anticipation. 

Above you, Simon’s eye clamp shut as he breathed heavily through his open mouth, “are you ready, Simon?” You question as you reach your hands up to cup his face, “we can stop if you want,” you say softly. 

Simon leans down to press his forehead to yours, “don’t want to hurt you,” his voice comes out soft.  

“I can handle a bit of pain,” you say, a small smile on your lips. You lean up to press your lips to his in a chaste kiss.

“I know you can,” he responds with a small, sad smile. He moves down to press a kiss to the scar on your shoulder, and then to the scar on your arm. “I love you,” Simon whispers after he comes back up. 

“I love you too,” you say back, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

Simon smiles again as he reaches a hand down to press his cock against your hole once more, “I meant it about not lasting long,” his mouth falls open as his cock slowly goes inside as he inches his hips forward. 

“That’s okay,” you reassure, “I probably won’t either.”

“Yeah?” Simon asks, his cock still going inside your body, “I’ve wanted you for so long. Wanted this,” he moans as he finally bottoms out. 

“This is all yours, Simon,” you say back. You clench down on his cock, the both of you groaning from the feel of it. 

Simon pulls out almost as slowly as he went in. He keeps his eyes locked on yours when he pushes back inside. His balls rest heavily on your ass and it’s almost hard to comprehend that you finally get to have this. It brings you back to months ago when you first sucked his cock and the amount of come went down your throat. It’d probably leaked out of your hole as he came to join the mess of lube on the bed, but this was a stain you didn’t mind. 

As Simon’s thrusts pick up, you can already feel your edge approaching. The fat head of Simon’s cock hits your prostate, bringing you closer and closer to coming. Your hand goes between your bodies to wrap around your aching cock to stroke to the rhythm of Simon’s thrusts. 

The bed creaks as Simon fucks forward into your hot, willing body. The headboard bangs against the wall, and the volume of it matches the sounds you each make. 

Once you start stroking at your cock, it doesn’t take long for you to come. Your other hand digs into Simon’s back as yours arches off the bed, like you’re afraid the rest of your body will come off the bed too. Your mouth falls open into a soundless scream as your cock shoots ropes of white up your chest. 

Unaware that you closed your eyes, they open to watch Simon above you continue to thrust inside your body. You pull your hand away from your cock, the mess of your orgasm evident on not only your chest, but Simon’s as well. Mixing with your spend is the sweat on Simon’s skin as his pace increases before stuttering off. 

Simon’s thrusts come to a halt before he switches the position but moving your legs until they’re on your shoulders. His eyes are droopy and filled with lust as he raises himself up onto his knees enough to watch his thick cock disappear into your hole. 

“Simon,” you call, a smirk appearing on your face when Simon doesn’t pull his eyes away, “Simon,” you repeat. “Feel good, baby?” 

Simon nearly folds you in half when he leans down to kiss you, his tongue fucking into your mouth like his cock was. He pulls away to answer, but all he can muster up as he moans is an enthusiastic nod. 

“Gonna come for me?” You ask, your hands going to cup Simon’s face. When Simon starts up his brutal pace again, you almost think you’re about to get hard again as his cock goes deeper than it was before, but Simon’s stuttered pace continues before his head falls back. His hips come to a halt as his heavy balls draw to his cock as he pumps you full of his come. 

Simon’s head falls to your shoulder as wave after wave of his orgasm washes over him. His moans turn to whimpers as his hips give an occasional twitch as the aftershocks set in. You don’t feel him pumping you full of his come like you had thought of earlier, but you can sure feel the way his cock throbs and twitches before it starts to soften. 

Simon grunts when he moves your legs off his shoulders, his soft cock falling free from your hole. He presses a kiss to your ankle when he puts down the second. He falls down on top of you in a sweaty heap, your body having no choice but to take his weight. 

It soon sets in how gross you feel from the sweat all over your body and the drying come and lube on your skin, but when you start to feel his come leaking from your hole, a warm feeling rushes through you. 

You feel Simon let out a chuckle above you, “I’ll need some time before I can go again,” he says after your cock gives a twitch at the feel of his come leaking out. 

“It’s not me,” you respond, one of your hands running up and down Simon’s sweaty back, “it’s got a mind of its own.”

Simon laughs again as he rolls off of your body and onto one of the pillows, “you okay?” He asks softly, one of his hands runs up your chest. 

“Yeah,” you say, sending him a smile. You turn on your side to face him and place a hand on his cheek, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he responds as he leans into the touch. “I’ve never done that before,” he says quietly. “Never been inside someone, I mean.”

“Yeah? Have you ever had anyone inside of you?” You ask, your voice just as quiet. 

“Just my fingers,” he responds, a blush rising on his cheeks below your fingers. 

“I’ll take care of you like you took care of me,” you respond. Your cock gives yet another twitch at the fact that you’re learning you have been and will be Simon’s first. A hot flare of possessiveness and jealousy runs through your body all at the same time. Knowing that someone has gotten to have Simon in the way you’ve had him and made him feel insecure enough to warn you about the size of his cock makes you angry. You would make sure to never make him feel like that.  

“I know,” he responds before pressing his lips to yours. Before the kiss can become wetter and more open-mouthed, he pushes you onto your back by your shoulder before he makes his way onto your chest to lay down. 

You let out a grunt at the weight but you wrap your hands about him to keep him close. One of your hands traces imaginary patterns onto his back, while the other goes to his head to run your fingers through his hair. 

“Before we go out with Johnny and Kyle,” Simon’s voice goes quiet and shy, “I want to take you out on a real date. Just the two of us.”

“We can do that,” you say around a yawn as your exhaustion sneaks up on you and your eyes fall shut. The last thing you feel before falling asleep is Simon’s smile against your shoulder and his soft lips against the scar as he kisses the skin.       

Bonus

“Ready?”

Simon gives a nod against the pillows. You could tell he was nervous based on how tense he felt, but his face didn’t show it. 

“It’s okay to be nervous,” you say to him quietly before leaning down to kiss him. 

“Not nervous,” Simon responds, but his face finally gives it away when a blush rises up his face, “just excited,” he whispers. 

You laugh against his mouth,” I can tell,” you say after pulling back, your eyes on his half hard cock. You run a finger from his balls to the head of his cock. Once at the head, you drag your finger through the precome at the slit, and when you pull your finger away, a string of his precome follows your finger. 

That finger is the same one you use to work Simon open. You don’t use as much lube as Simon had with you when he first fucked you, but you made sure you had plenty. 

Simon’s legs spread further, his feet nearly hanging off either edge of the bed. You run your other hand up and down his thigh soothingly when you press your finger to his hole, “ready?” You repeat.

“Yeah,” Simon whispers, and then your finger breaches his hole. 

He’s tight and warm around your finger as you go slowly inside. You keep a close eye on his face as you work your entire finger inside. Simon looks more relaxed than you expected him to be, but it’s really only because he’s hiding any discomfort behind the action of biting his lip. 

“Can I hear you?” You ask Simon before placing a soft kiss to his lips, “please?”

After Simon nods, you press another finger inside. His mouth opens as he lets out a whine, and when you crook your fingers, his whine turns to a loud moan. 

A slow smile spreads across your face, “feel good?”

Simon nods, but before he can respond, you press your fingers into his prostate again, just to hear him moan again. He finds his words when you pull your fingers free and replace the two with three, “what do I do?”

“Just lay there and let me take care of you, baby,” you respond. “Want me to touch you here?” You question, running your free hand over his cock. 

Simon lets out a groan when your fingers glide over his cock, “want your mouth,” he says, his hips raising off the bed. 

You lean down and run your tongue along the length of his cock, starting at the root, and ending at the tip. You moan when the flavor of his precome hits your tongue, as does Simon when you run your tongue around the sensitive glands on the crown of his cock. 

Simon lets out another moan when your three fingers are going inside of his hole. His hips move again, but this time, they’re moving to fuck down on your fingers. His cock lets out a glob of precome onto your tongue when your three fingers are on his prostate, and you press them to it over and over again to see if you can get some more of the taste. 

Instead, what you’re rewarded with is his cock gushing come into your mouth. It catches you off guard, but you do your best to swallow down what his cock lets out as the sound of his moans fill your ears. The sounds make your neglected cock throb, but you keep in place until Simon’s moans subside and his hole relaxes around your fingers. 

You pull your fingers free slowly and press a kiss to his hip bone when he whimpers. He pulls you up with a hand around the back of your neck to get his lips pressed to yours. Simon groans into your mouth when his tongue runs along yours, tasting himself all over your mouth. 

“Your turn,” Simon’s voice is rough and gravely, way too low in your opinion for a man that just had his first prostate orgasm and should be tired. 

“Are you sure? I can just-”

Oh, Simon was so sure. Sure enough in fact that minutes later, your cock is in his mouth.

He gets you sat on the edge of the bed and makes his way between your legs before taking your cock into his mouth. He had moaned at the flavor on your tongue when he had kissed you, so it was no surprise that when he got the head of your cock in his mouth, he was moaning around it as he tried to take you deeper and get the flavor further down on his tongue. 

You gasp when he puts your legs over his broad shoulders, to make it easier for his fingers to dip further down between your legs. You open your mouth to try and question him to see what he and his fingers are up to, but all you can do is let out noises of pleasure as Simon’s fingers go past your balls to skim over your taint. 

One of your hands sits stretched out behind your body, so you can stay up and watch the display of Simon’s lips stretched around your cock. The other hand goes into his head to run your fingers along his scalp, “so good, Simon,” you moan as your fingers run through the soft strands of his hair. 

Simon looks up at you with his dark, tear-filled eyes. They spill over when your hips twitch forward, feeding Simon more of your cock when Simon’s fingers go lower to brush the dry pad of his fingers across your hole. 

Your body bows over his head as your hands move to grip his shoulders tightly, trying to keep your body in place as your orgasm racks your body. Simon obediently swallows down what shoots from your cock as feelings of euphoria rushes through your body. 

You open your eyes as your body uncurls from around Simon’s head, panting as you try to calm your racing heart. “Fuck, Simon,” you whisper down at him as you wipe the tears away from his face. Your soft cock falls from Simon’s mouth with a wet pop before Simon is joining you on the bed. 

“You okay?” You ask Simon, his naked thigh resting beside yours. 

“I’m good,” he responds, his voice rough. A few minutes later, when Simon has you laid on his sweaty chest, he lets out a sigh before he speaks again, “I got a message from Johnny the other day.”

You raise yourself up on your elbow to look at him, “what’d it say?”

Simon rolls his eyes before answering, “that he’s excited for our double date.”

You lay back down onto Simon’s chest, laughing as he lets out another sigh, “why’d you agree to this again?” Simon questions as his warm hand settles onto your back to run soothing circles over your skin.