#and drink whisky out of his mouth
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
"I'm lost. Am I doing a rainstorm?"
You're going the wrong way, Aziraphale. His lap is right there and you are cleared for landing!
#david tennant#david tennant in chairs#legs for days#just like all the limbs#soft scottish hipster gigolo#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#aziraphale is truly God's strongest soldier to resist that temptation#that angel is a potent mix of repression and hyperfixation#which I don't relate to AT ALL (not)#good lord he's beautiful#i wanna take a bite out of those drumsticks#i want to summit him#and drink whisky out of his mouth#damn I'm thirsty#pure temptation#turtleneck crowley
146 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wish it was more socially acceptable to grope men's tits and slap them on the ass in public, maybe pull them into my lap and tell them they're pretty
#me with a cigar in my mouth and a glass of whisky in one hand#making some 50 yr old investment banker guy in a suit sit on my knee while I pinch his nip through his expensive Hermes shirt#telling him what a cute piece of ass he is#taking a sip of my drink and yanking his head back by his hair so I can spit some of it in his mouth#maybe also purposely pushing my cold glass against his chest to make his nips hard#saw a hot older bearded silver fox while i was out the other night and wanted to objectify him
16 notes
·
View notes
Note
if ur requests are open, could we have like 141 falling asleep on the reader??? like different scenarios for each of them like price falls asleep accidentally and so does ghost while gaz and soap are like cuddling or laying on the reader :) i love ur writing so much <333
the 141 falls asleep on you
wc: 2.1k
hello!!! been struggling to love my writing for like the last month so i really hope you enjoy, and i'm sorry in advance lol its mostly fluffy but i just couldn't help myself with a lil bit of angst :)
price
✹ when you hear the front door open in the middle of the night – or, technically, early morning – the first thought your sleep-addled mind comes up with is that you're being robbed.
✹ with your heart in your throat, you sit up in bed and stare wide-eyed at the bedroom door, but your fear is short lived when a dull thud meets your ears, followed by a familiar curse that has you breathing a sigh of relief.
✹ your husband, coming home at last from a night of drinking with the other members of the taskforce, presumably stubbing his toe on the sofa that hasn't moved an inch since you put it there all those years ago.
✹ with a deep yawn, you get back under the covers and let your eyes fall shut again, the knowledge that it was john downstairs and not a burglar putting your racing heart to rest.
✹ you don't react when he clumsily slips through the door, fighting the laugh that threatens to give you away when you hear him swear under his breath after bumping into yet another piece of furniture.
✹ the cold air sends goosebumps rippling across your skin when he lifts the covers to clamber in beside you, but the chill is quickly chased away by his hands bringing you into his chest and his enveloping warmth.
✹ "and what time do you call this?" you tease in a whisper, opening your eyes to see his guilty ones looking back at you. the slight flush in his cheeks and his half-lidded gaze gives him a boyish charm that you can't even pretend to be mad at.
✹ "sorry darlin', didn't mean to wake you..." he murmurs in return, a sheepish smile pulling at one side of his lips.
✹ "well, i'm glad you had a good time," you punctuate your reply by placing a light kiss on the bridge of his nose, which prompts his smile to grow wider as he hugs your body to his own.
✹ "i'm havin' a better time now, love." he ghosts his lips over yours as he whispers, earning another tiny chuckle from you, his fingers tracing patterns into the skin of your back under your shirt.
✹ you can smell the whisky on his breath as he leans even further into you, and taste it when he closes the distance to devour your lips in a passionate, if slightly messy, kiss.
✹ he sighs into your mouth, his lips falling from yours when he rolls you onto your back to lay his head on your chest, and like a switch, he's dead asleep.
✹ "john?" you whisper, in a sort of disbelief that he was actually asleep just like that, but he doesn't even flinch when you gently poke his cheek. "oh my god…"
✹ once the morning rolls around, you both share a laugh about his drunken state from the night before, and he makes you promise not to tell the boys he passed out in the middle of kissing you.
✹ you just laugh and file it away for future blackmail.
gaz
✹ the two of you were watching a movie late one night, the first time you've had time to yourselves in months thanks to the never-ending workload you both seem to be under.
✹ the dim mood lighting of your flat combined with the comforting feeling of finally being alone with kyle is nearly enough to send you to sleep already, but your want to spent time with him keeps you awake.
✹ kyle watches you stifle a yawn as he presses play on the movie, and tugs you to lean against him with an arm around your shoulders and a teasing grin. "promise you won't fall asleep this time?"
✹ you look up to him from where your head rests against his collar and huff, a smile of your own playing on your lips as you nudge him lightly with your elbow. "maybe i should be the one asking that."
✹ the bags under his eyes leave no question about how tired he really is, but he was the one that insisted the two of you spend time together tonight, despite the exhaustion you knew he was hiding.
✹ "and leave you all by yourself?" he chuckles, "never, love."
✹ a comfortable quiet settles over you while you watch the movie together; kyle's choice, something action-y you've never seen before, but you know he's seen it a million times. he occasionally adds commentary to make you laugh which he, naturally, manages to do every time.
✹ as the movie plays, you gradually migrate to laying on the sofa on your back with kyle between your legs and his head on your sternum. you absentmindedly run your nails over his scalp, gently massaging his head while he hugs your waist.
✹ it's about two-thirds of the way through the movie that you realise kyle hasn't said anything in a while. you pause your ministrations, smoothing over his curls as you turn your gaze from the screen to where he lays on top of you.
✹ a soft smile lights up your face when your eyes land on his blissfully relaxed features, sound asleep and breathing in time with the steady rise and fall of your chest.
✹ you continue to watch the movie in silence, occasionally petting kyle's hair when he grumbles in his sleep. he deserves the rest, you muse, and something about how peaceful he looks means you can't even entertain the idea of disturbing him. and you would definitely tease him that he fell asleep like he said he wouldn't.
✹ even once the movie has finished, and your back has started to ache from the position against the armrest, you still don't dare wake him. tomorrow was an off day for both of you, so there was no need to go anywhere – as if you would ever want to, intertwined with your boyfriend and surrounded by his warmth.
✹ you close your eyes, give him one last squeeze, and whisper into the silence, "sweet dreams, kyle."
soap
✹ it wasn't supposed to happen like this.
✹ everything was supposed to go smoothly, you'd get what you came for, and you'd be home in time for dinner.
✹ but it hadn't happened like that of course it didn't. you were on your way out, with johnny by your side, when a sudden noise from behind you caught your attention.
✹ you spin around to see a dishevelled soldier aiming their gun at you, but you noticed just a second too late. you can do little more than watch as they pull the trigger, a sick sense of horror travelling up your spine as time seems to slow down.
✹ there's a split second where you brace to feel the bullet lodge somewhere in your body, but that impact never comes.
✹ with a speed you didn't know he possessed, johnny tackles you to the ground and out of the path of the bullet, landing on top of you and pushing the air from your lungs.
✹ you lay winded underneath him, the sound of him returning fire vaguely reaching your ears but it takes a second for your mind to catch up.
✹ it’s quiet by the time you come back to your senses, johnny already pulling you to stand with a strained grunt.
✹ "johnny?" you frown, taking note of how he favours one side when he urges you to start walking again, "you okay?"
✹ "fine, darlin’, let’s just–" he winces, stumbling ever so slightly and trying to play it off by pushing you in front of him, "let’s just get home, aye?"
✹ your frown deepens. you turn around and stop him with your hands on his shoulders, and it's then that you notice how laboured his breathing has become.
✹ "you're not fine, soap!" your heart sinks as you watch the patches of blood on his leg grow steadily darker, "why didn't you tell me you were hit?"
✹ he doesn't flinch at the anger in your voice, or when you haul his arm over your shoulder and resume dragging him the rest of the way to the helo. he mumbles incoherent that sounds like an apology, but your only focus is getting him to safety and stopping the bleeding.
✹ the others are already waiting for you as the exfil site comes into view, and the moment they spot you shouldering johnny's weight they spring into action to help you.
✹ johnny is dragged up the ramp and made to lay on the floor as gaz and ghost make short work of packing the bullet wound in his thigh with gauze.
✹ you lift his shoulders and head to rest in your lap, grimacing at the pained groans he lets out when ghost puts his weight on the wound.
✹ "why didn't you tell me?" you utter, tilting his head back with your hands on his cheeks and meeting his distant gaze with your brows knitted together in concern.
✹ he musters a weak smile and lets his eyes flutter shut, the muscles in his face visibly relax. "i’m fine… ‘slong as yer okay, bonnie…"
ghost
✹ sometimes you wondered if ghost ever slept.
✹ he would always volunteer himself for the first watch, and he was up before you without fail every morning. on base he always seemed to be in the gym before everyone, and in his office after everyone else has left. he was frustratingly elusive.
✹ it worried you, that perhaps he had trouble sleeping. it made sense, however saddening, that someone like him wouldn't sleep well, but it was even worse that he brushed off your concern for him with practised ease.
✹ he made sure to take care of others, but wouldn't let you try and do the same for him. perhaps he thought you were joking, or that you were only being courteous, but your mind always goes back to one thing; the theory that, for some people, it's only possible for them to fall asleep when they feel safe.
✹ you wanted to be that for him, like he was for you.
✹ you do your best to forget about your rejected concerns for him, and the thought all but slips your mind until a mission two months later.
✹ it was long, drawn-out, and gruelling, and all you wanted to do was get home and have a shower hot enough to melt your skin. it had been almost a week since you've had a moment to catch your breath, and you were more than thankful to be on the way home.
✹ even if that meant being squashed into the back of an suv with soap passed out on your left and ghost on your right. gaz called shotgun and wouldn't give it up for anything, so here you were, shoulder to shoulder with the lieutenant you may or may not harbour feelings for.
✹ the five of you have been on the road for a couple of hours now. the conversation has died down by now and and the quiet hum of the radio was the only sound, besides soap's intermittent snores.
✹ you're on the verge of passing out yourself when a weight drops onto your shoulder, and you have to fight yourself not to jump with the start it gives you.
✹ your tired eyes look to the source and to your utter surprise, they find the dark fabric of ghost's balaclava resting against you, and when you tilt your head you can see the blond of his eyelashes against his cheeks.
✹ the sight brings a smile to your face. as subtle as possible, you shift as much as the limited space of the backseat will allow so his neck isn't bent at such an awkward angle.
✹ he fell asleep on you. perhaps it was just because of the exhaustion this mission left him with, but you like to think back on your theory from weeks ago as you admire the restful expression he wears.
✹ your stop fighting your own exhaustion and let your eyes fall shut, and with your last thread of consciousness you file this memory away for later, and hope that it really does mean that he feels safe with you.
#captain john price x reader#john price x reader#captain price x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap mactavish x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#price x reader#gaz x reader#soap x reader#ghost x reader#141 x reader#mw2 x reader#cod x reader#captain price#kyle gaz garrick#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#roosterr writes
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Anatomy of a Hand - Theodore Nott x reader
Word count: 1.3k
Fluff, slight angst, sexual innuendo
Description: Drunken ager fuels your jealousy over your boyfriend, all coming to a halt when he corners you at a part. How long does it take for your anger to dissolve under his touch?
Likes, comments and reblogs appreciated my loves <3
...
Distance and drinks make for a dangerous combination at least that's what you think as you throw your head back shotting whatever Pansy handed to you.
Across the room, unbeknownst to you, is your boyfriend, like a snake ready to catch its prey.
Shaking his head slowly as he watches you pollute your mind with as much as you can swallow.
You laugh as the liquid burns down your throat, until you watch yourself looking around the room for him, he was also so good at hiding in the shadows whenever he pleases.
You could feel it, his eyes on you, just unaware where it was coming from, as you scanned every corner of the room.
What were you even fighting about?
Oh, right, about how that stupid prissy little Ravenclaw in the year below thinks she can help herself to your teddy.
Yes, he had rejected her and been harsh, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that you had overheard her and her friends talking in the girls' bathrooms.
About how good-looking your boyfriend is and what she would only do for his hands to hold her own, or even worse.
As the memory comes flooding in, so does a new wash of anger, "how unforgivable are unforgivable curses, Pans?" you yell over the music
"Uh uh, don't even think about it" she laughs as she sways to the song
"Just one" you joke, smile beaming, booze spilling
"For Theo? or for that Ravenclaw?" Pansy jokes back
"well obviously f-" you slur
"for me, yeah?" Theo interjects, smoothly nicking the drink from your hand.
Merlin's his voice was like honey, and his eyes lik- No! Mad remember, very completely mad at him and his beautiful dumb fucken perfect face.
It was as if he could read the thoughts running through your mind as he softly chuckled, leading you away from Pansy.
You can't see his face, too busy concentrating on walking straight, but you know him too well. You know that a smirk is now painting his face because his hand is digging deep into the skin of your back.
You feel his hand glide from your back to lace into your fingers. He knows that's all it takes for you to forgive and forget, whatever the reason, and tonight, you felt even a prick of his touch throughout your whole body.
He's got you in a quiet corner, “For me, yeah?” he repeats, looking down at you with that insufferable smugness that only he could wear so well.
His face tells you all it needs to, I challenge you, challenging me.
You squint your eyes up at him, wobbling slightly as you attempt to stabilise yourself, yanking your hand back. “I’m still mad at you, you know.”
"Yeah, I can tell; look at that bottle", he laughs, forcing you to look at the half-empty fire whisky that decorated the table you had been at,
Pansy, still at the table, pouring more of what you had started, catches you both and returns the glare with an arched brow and a knowing smile.
Theo returning his attention to you. “Are you planning to hex me for sport, or is there a reason you skulked down a bottle like it would kill you if you didn't?”
The room spins slightly as you fix him with your best glare. Theo extends his arm, latching onto you so you don't fall, taking the cup out of your hand before you can even think of another sip.
“You-” You stop, your tongue catching on your words. You can’t quite articulate it now that he’s here, with his hand on you and his eyes trained right into your own
“You let her—her existence go unchecked,” you spit out, you almost flinch at how fucking stupid the words are that just left your mouth.
"who's what?" he holds himself together, giving his all not to laugh at what you were poking at, all he needed was for you to be mad at his laugher too.
"You heard me!" you say with widening eyes, that's it, repeat it with confidence and hopefully it'll sound smarted this time round.
“Her existence?” his brows cross
“Yes!” You jab a finger at his chest; him repeating your argument reminds you what you said in the first place, unfortunately, for your resolve is far too solid and warm beneath your touch. “She,she talks about you like she has any right. Like you’re some fucking shared library book she can check out when she can't, alright, cause I got to the library first!.” you rant in your drunken spell
This time, he doesn’t hide his laugh, though it’s soft. “A library book, hmm? Last I checked, I’m not up for loan.”
“Don’t patronise me, Theo,” you snap, though it comes out less biting than you’d intended. The alcohol buzzing through your veins is making it hard to keep up the anger when all you want is to melt into him and forget about everything.
He steps closer, the space between you narrowing until it’s filled with his scent, husky and sharp, and unmistakably Theo. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that it feels like a secret meant only for you.
"And what she said about your hands" your eyes finding the hands in question
"These ones?" he smiles, lifting his hand to your eye line
"Yes! Those hands, those dumb hands that she thinks would ever touch her! For Merlin's Sake, your hands, yours, Theo, anywhere near her, ugh, just the thought!" you ramble
He cuts in "My hands are for you" he states, his face now more serious than before,
"Oh yeah, they seem pretty full" trying harder to keep up with the attitude, staring at his left hand, adorned with a hardly lit cigarette between his fingers, and his right still occupied with the drink he had taken from you only moments before.
"Doesn't matter, baby, they're still for you" he almost frowns down at you wanting you desperately to believe him
"But they're full" you try one more time, gesturing to his hands. Now a frown set in on your face, too.
Without a passing beat, you watch Theodore drop everything that he held, his smoke now on the floor, the drink now abandoned and spilled below you both.
"My hands are yours," he said much lower this time. You took his into your own, guiding your hand to his lips to kiss every knuckle with such tenderness you might faint, your breath hitched. Words couldn't work if you tried.
"Come on" he said as he swung you under his shoulder
"I gotta show you all the things my hands, well, your hands can do" he smirks
You look up at him, infuriating, beautiful, and too good at undoing you. Smiling as your thumb rubs small circles on his palm.
Your breath hitches as his hands slide down to your wrists, his fingers curling around them possessively. His touch is terrifyingly thrilling setting you on fire all at once. He doesn’t move, though, just watches your reaction, his smirk growing wider when he sees the flush spreading across your cheeks.
“Say it,” he demands, his voice low and commanding in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.
You blink up at him, confused. “Say what?”
“That they’re yours,” he says simply, lifting one of your hands to his chest, right over his heart. “Say it.”
“They’re mine,” you whisper, the words barely audible over the thundering of your heart and the music that continues to play regardless of you and Theo being in your own world right now
He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “Damn right, they are.”
Before you can process what’s happening, he’s guiding your hands up behind his neck, his eyes never leaving yours as he tilts his head down to close the space between you. His lips crash against yours, soft but insistent, the kiss full of all the reassurance you needed
His hands find your waist again, pulling you flush against him as he deepens the kiss. You lose yourself in him, the feel of his hands, lips, and everything. He’s all-consuming, and for once, you don’t mind being undone.
When he finally pulls back, both of you breathing heavily, he presses his forehead to yours, his hands still holding you like you might disappear. “Yours,” he says again, his voice ragged but certain. “All of me.”
You smile up at him, your earlier anger long forgotten. “Even your dumb hands?”
“Especially my dumb hands,” he murmurs, a small laugh escaping as he kisses you again.
…
Likes, comments and reblogs appreciated my loves <3
#slytherin#theodore nott#theo nott#slytherin boys#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x reader#theo nott fluff#theo nott x reader#theo nott imagine#theo nott fanfic#theo nott x slytherin!reader#harry potter#theo nott x you#theo nott x y/n#hogwarts#theodore nott fanfic#theo nott fanfiction#theodore nott fic#theodore nott angst#theodore nott fluff
434 notes
·
View notes
Text
Don’t Hate You- Joel Miller
An enemies to lovers story.
Word count: 3,298
Warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, one spank, rougher sex, slight degrading, oral (m receiving) hate sex, but they actually don’t hate each other!
Author’s Note: Love a good enemies to lovers. I did not proofread because I was ashamed!! :D
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
He was your neighbour; an interesting concept after 20 odd years of being alone with no sense of community. The apocalypse had torn through the world, separating friends from foe and dividing humanity into crushed pieces.
And then there was Jackson.
Jackson was small when you first showed up, bloody and beaten, tired of fighting. There were about 20 people at that time, all working hard to fix up the old town they had taken residence in. Maria had taken you in without any thought, allowing you to be someone after years of just living as another being, untrusting and rough, a shell of who you once were.
Five years later, you, along with the town, had blossomed. Buildings were now as new as they could be, with the resources the townspeople could find. Jackson had a bar, a laundrette, a clothes and a grocery store; things that had been hard to adjust to because your brain had been hardwired to live a certain way, were now able to just relax.
Slowly but surely, you were able to build yourself up into the personality you had before everything fell apart. A nicer, happier version of yourself. You knew everyone in town, always being greeted when you stepped out your door, they called you Honey.
“Sweet as honey, you are.” Eugene had said to you, an older man who had fought alongside Tommy in the fireflies.
The latter man scoffed, “Not to me, always teasin’ me, makin’ fun of me.”
You smile at him, “Chin up, Tommy. Someone has to keep that ego of yours in check.”
Every face in that town you could put a name to, until one day you couldn’t. Two new faces, one gruff with a frown, and the other smiley with her mouth constantly moving. You learned of their names; Joel, and Ellie. Before you could get the chance to introduce yourself, they had left.
“Where’s your brother? And the girl?” You hesitantly asked Tommy one day, raising the glass of whisky to your lips.
He shook his head once, downing his drink in one go, “Just needs to get something done. He’ll be back.”
Tommy's short reply had irked you more than it should have. Everyone in town was talking about the mystery man with his mystery kid; who were they? How long would they be away? You wish you knew the answer.
A few months later, you awoke to a distinctive voice; Tommy, yelling orders right outside your bedroom window. You tried to endure it for a while, a pillow placed over your head in an attempt to muffle the echo of his voice, but that proved to be a fail.
Thin cardigan around your body, fluffiest socks you could find, and a frown on your face, you move down the stairs in your house, muttering to yourself angrily. "Tommy!" You call out, gently closing your front door.
Tommy looked up with a guilty expression, "I'm sorry, I know-"
"It is the crack of dawn, you better have a good reason why I'm hearing your voice so early!" You finish, standing by the edge of your fence, arms crossed against your chest.
A third voice. A man stepping out of your neighbouring house. "Sorry, Ma'am, Tommy was just helpin' us settle in."
He was unapologetically handsome. Simply wearing jeans and a short sleeved shirt, with one expression plastered across his face at all times. Joel. You hated how at the sight of him, your arms unfolded from your body, hated how you couldn't really find yourself to be angry anymore.
You shift on your feet, cheeks flushing pink, "You're back."
Tommy raised his eyebrow, eyes moving between the two of you, "Honey, this is Joel, my brother, and your new neighbour."
Joel nodded in your direction, looking at you curiously. You shake your head softly, "Keep it down, Tommy." Your eyes move over to his brother, "Welcome to Jackson."
Then you were moving, back into the comfort of your own house where you slapped yourself in the face, embarrassment bubbling its way inside of you.
Two days later, you felt bad. Your bad impression with Joel replayed in your head endlessly, so bad that you had avoided going outside whenever you could hear voices next door. It was later when you knocked on their door, now in more appropriate clothes and with a clearer mind.
If he was shocked you were standing outside his door, he didn't show it, you spoke straight away. "I just wanted to properly introduce myself, I know you mustn't think too fondly of me." You give him your name along with a small smile.
Joel watched silently as you rambled an apology, only offering a small grunt and a nod of his head before closing the door in your face. You stood there for a moment, taking in what had just occurred. The rejection stung slightly, your inability to make amends with him weighing down on your shoulders. You hated how small that made you feel, hated how much you yearned for him to say something, just so you could hear his voice in that low, Southern drawl.
Tommy couldn't understand why your face soured whenever Joel's name was brought up, or why your fists clenched after watching his brother talk with other people. Why Joel seemed to talk to everyone except for you. Tommy sat in front of you in the booth at the bar, waiting for an opportunity to finally figure out what he had been suspecting. His eyes locked onto someone behind you and before you could ask, he was already calling out. “Joel! C'mere."
Your eyes widened slightly as you sat up straighter, kicking Tommy's leg under the table. You heard his boots stop next to you, his presence looming over the table you were leaning on. Tommy nodded his head slightly at you, "How're you guys gettin' along as neighbours? Haven't gotten any complaints yet, so must be goin' well."
Joel stayed quiet for a moment, eyes glancing over to you for a split second, "'S fine. Nice house you put me in."
Tommy scoffed, shaking his head with a smile, "Wasn't asking about the house, brother. You guys good?"
Joel looked down at you, eyes flickering down your face and to your hands that rest on the wooden table. “We’re good. She’s uh…” He paused, seemingly uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “She’s a good neighbour.” He confirmed, suddenly looking everywhere but you and his brother.
Tommy smiled triumphantly, looking at you again. “Honey? He a good neighbour?”
You look at him unimpressed, feeling uncomfortable to be put in such a position, and furthermore the sight of Joel tapping his fingers against the table impatiently from the corner of your eye, made you feel angry. Unnecessarily so.
“Actually, Tommy, no. He’s not a good neighbour. He’s a dick. Always… slamming his gate when he gets back from night patrols.” You breathe out deeply, feeling the brothers’ gazes on you as you looked away. “I needa head back, I’ll see you Tommy.”
You hastily make your way out, “Oh god, why did I say that?” You whisper to yourself, embarrassment coursing through your body.
Three days after that incident , you had managed to avoid Joel like he was the plague; more than how you used to ignore him. His little girl, Ellie had approached you a few times, mocking your silence and asking why you didn't get along with the oldest Miller. You couldn't say that it was because how unnecessarily hot his accent was, or how he liked to wear tighter shirts that made your skin crawl with need, so you shrugged.
On the fourth day of ignoring Joel Miller, you had lost your streak.
It was later in the evening, everyone was either crowded in the dining hall, or in the comfort of their own homes, everyone but you. The winter coat you had on was not doing you justice, the freezing wind managing to slip through the small cracks, touching your skin. Although, you could barely call it a coat, material so worn and thin you would've been better in a long-sleeve shirt. You had been walking for a few minutes, nose pink, when you heard your name being called behind you.
"What the hell are you doin, wearing this in the middle of winter?" None other than Joel Miller scolded, grabbing you by the arm when he was close enough to. "You suicidal, woman?"
"Charming." You responded, trying so hard to ignore the warmth he provided by holding your arm. "Just walking, don't see the problem."
Joel scoffed, looking genuinely annoyed, "Don't see the pro-..." He trailed off for a moment, "You're going to freeze. And given our unpleasant history, I'll probably be blamed for your death."
Not waiting for a response, he started to pull you behind him, making a beeline for his house. You stuttered out, trying to object, "Joel, I'm perfectly capable of walking back to my house."
"Don't want you going back to your house. Need to talk with you." He shortly responded, ignoring your tugging. Once he had opened his door and you could feel the heat emitting from his house, you had settled slightly, but still shot Joel a glance as you entered.
"Go sit by the fire." He ordered, walking off into his kitchen, "Fuckin' hell." He mumbled.
You scowl at his back, debating with yourself for a second before deciding to follow his orders, sitting yourself down on the floor in front of the hot embers. You moan out in relief, shuffling a bit closer before turning your head to the side, watching Joel frown as he poured something in two mugs.
"Coffee." He grunted, walking over and placing the mug in your hands before sitting down on the chair next to you, sported with his own cup. "Drink it."
The mug helped you warm up faster, the heat reaching your fingertips and moving up your hands. "Prefer tea." You shortly respond, taking the drink up to your lips.
A moment of silence commenced before either of you talked again. Joel sighed deeply, and you saw from the corner of your eye his hand resting over his face, "Why're you so difficult?"
His words sunk into your brain. You scoffed, "I'm difficult?"
"Yes. You are."
You place the mug down beside you, looking into the flames for a moment. "I tried making amends with you, Joel. Tried being nice."
His silence fuelled your frustration. "Talking and smiling to everyone but me... Because I, what? I scolded your brother for being loud?" You continue, shaking your head.
Joel didn't talk, he didn't move. Only when he was sure you were finished talking did he speak. "You did try bein' nice... And uh... God, I hate this." He paused, taking a deep breath, "Didn't think it was a good idea for us to be nice. To talk."
"What?" You asked, turning to look at him, "You didn't think it was a good idea? That makes no sense, Joel. If you just don't like me, say that, don't try making up all these excuses!"
His eyebrows furrowed, he too had abandoned his mug onto the side table next to him. "Not makin' any excuses."
You laugh shortly, "Okay, Joel. I'll leave you then, get outta your hair... Seeming as this,' You gesture to the both of you, "Is not a good idea."
As you stood, Joel quickly followed, grabbing onto your shoulder to stop you from running. "I knew it would be a bad idea because the second I laid my eyes on you, you had me wrapped around your finger. Fuckin'," He took a breath, looking away from you for a moment, "Can't get you out of my head, you're everywhere."
"I don't..." You frown, looking up at him, your uneven breathing matching his, "I don't understand."
"I can't stay away from you, I can't do it anymore." He confessed, letting go of your shoulder, instead running his hands through his hair. "You don't even know what you do to me."
You watch him for a moment, trying to rationalise your feelings, "So, you... You act like a dick, and ignore me, shut doors in my face, and now I'm finding out it's because you can't stay away from me? That's so stupid!"
His neck was flushed, the pink hue travelling down to his chest, you forced yourself to keep your eyes on his face. He looked borderline desperate now as he stepped closer, "Tell me to stop, I will. If... If you let me have you, I don't think I'll be able to stop."
"How did we go from hating each other to this?" You ask, eyes flickering over his face.
Joel shook his head gently, his hands moving up to touch your neck, fingers ghosting your skin. "Didn't really hate each other. Did we?"
"Hated you. You're arrogant." You whisper, taking off your thin jacket, a shirt on underneath.
"Keep goin'." He nodded, frowning at your choice in clothing.
His fingers moved on his own accord, moving down to the bottom of your shirt, tugging on it. "You slammed your door shut in my face." You continue, pulling the shirt off your body and throwing it on the floor.
"Like an ass." He agreed, his eyes taking in your upper half, hungrily staring at the bra you were wearing.
As if in a trance, you pulled your pants off yourself, "Just wanted to apologise to you for my bad impression." You tell him, now standing in your underwear in front oh his clothed self.
Joel nodded, his breath intaking as he looked at you, "Didn't care what you were sayin' that morning, baby. Comin'. out in that singlet of yours, tiny shorts. You thought that cardigan was gonna help ya? Was hopin' you'd yell at Tommy all day."
Your pussy clenched at his words, a gush of heat travelling upwards. "I was rude to you in the bar the other day... In front of Tommy." You confess, kneeling down in front of him, your face now in line with his growing bulge still restrained in his jeans.
"Yeah, baby." Joel agreed, "Had to listen to him lecture me for an hour." He reached down and moved your hair out of your face, looking deeply into your eyes.
His zipper was down before he could blink, quickly helping you pull down his pants, his boxers following soon after. His cock was big, bigger than you had expected it to be. Its red head was dripping with pre come, falling down the sides of him. Your hand experimentally wrapped around him, seeing how much you'd be able to take, only to find that your hand was not able to close properly.
"It's big, I know." Joel hummed, his cock twitching in your hands, "You can take it."
Your hands began moving after he spoke to you, making sure to squeeze down on him. His head fell back in pleasure, a groan releasing from his throat. After a few minutes of slowly jerking him off, you brought your head closer to his tip, carefully wrapping your lips around him. At the added pleasure, Joel looked down, letting out a whimper.
"Fuck, feel so good." He told you, scrunching his eyebrows together, "Look so good." He added, his hand coming down to hold your cheek.
With new profound confidence, you moved your head faster, making sure to match the speed with your hand. His moans grew louder, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your head, fisting some of your hair. "Alright, alright." Joel quickly said, pulling your head off his cock, now topped with the glisten of your saliva.
"Need it." You whisper, using his hand to help yourself up, tugging down your underwear before helping Joel out of his shirt. You look up at him expectedly, legs clenching together.
Joel looked down at the sight, mockingly sighing, "You wet, baby? Need me to take care of ya, huh?" He gently grabbed your hand pulling you behind him as he approached his couch. You watched as he sat down, spreading his legs widely, a sight that was truly sinful.
He gestured to his lap, and you took the hint. Climbing onto him, you didn't break eye contact, your chest pressed against his as you looked into his eyes. "Here." He whispered, reaching behind your back and unclasping your bra, peeling it away from your body. "God, you're..." He sighed, leaning back against the couch as he stared at your breasts, "You're gorgeous."
"Still hate you." You mumble, leaning up with your hands on his shoulders. He gripped his cock from under you, dragging the tip across your clit and down your pussy.
"Yeah?" He asked, looking up at your face as he placed himself up near your entrance, your legs already shaking with need. Your arousal dripped down the side of his dick, fluids mixing together. "Doesn't feel like you hate me."
You shook your head, moving downwards gently, just far enough that the tip of him slipped inside you. You both groan. "I do hate you." You try and convince him, taking him further inside you with every second that passed. When your ass met his thighs, you moaned out loudly, tilting your head backwards. "Feel so deep."
Joel smiled lazily, pressing his hand against your abdomen, "Right up here. Go on, show me how much ya hate me. Fuck it all outta ya." He slurred, his accent becoming more pronounced the further he lost himself inside you. You started with small grinds, getting your body used to the intrusion first, shaky breaths and pants falling from your mouth as your clit rubbed against his pubic hair.
He helped you bounce after, his large hands on your ass, pulling you up and down on his dick, roughly meeting those movements with his own thrusts below. Once he was confident you had found your rhythm, he leant back, watching. "Still hate me?" He shakily asked, his hands moving from your breasts down to your clit, rubbing slow circles there.
"No." You cry out, moving your body forwards so you were laying on him, your face resting in the crook of his neck. "Please." You beg, although you weren't sure of what.
Joel wraps his arms around you, holding you tight as his hips drive faster up into you. The sounds of your skin colliding echoing through his house, aiding in the pleasure you were feeling. Joel grunted in your ear, one of his hands coming down onto your ass, slapping it. "Gonna cum, baby. Come on, need to feel it."
You lean up slightly, chest heaving against his. "So close." You whisper, leaning your forehead against his. The sensation of his hands roaming your body, the feeling of his cock pistoning up into you, and your own need for him fuelled your orgasm. Just as you started clenching around him, Joel moved his head up, catching your lips in a kiss before his own orgasm escaped him. You came together, legs shaking and breaths coming out hot as you kissed.
Somehow, the kiss felt more intense than the mind-blowing sex you had just had, the intimacy of it had your heart clenching. "Don't hate you." You sighed, pulling away from his lips. "Hated how you made me feel. Wanted you so bad."
He nodded. "I know, baby. Me too."
As they dressed themselves and sat with each other by the fire, discovering new emotions and sensations with one another the rest of Jackson had continued moving around them, acting like another day; though your life would now be irrevocably changed.
988 notes
·
View notes
Text
Scary Dog Privilege 3
You thought your days as Ghost's handler over since he started seeing Soap, but when someone's bold enough to lay hands on what's his, you feel obligated to intervene to prevent a massacre.
Inspired by this post by @shotmrmiller /Soap pic cred goes to @yumethefrostypanda
Tags: civilian!reader, gn!reader, light smut, GuardDog!Ghost x Handler!Reader, Ghoap x Reader, dom!Ghost, dom!Reader, sub!Soap, light degradation towards Soap. Soap gets treated like a mutt, Ghost is Smug™️, what else is new! I can't write smut so they don't go all the way sorry 😔 1.4k words.
Part 1. Part 2.
When Ghost gets progressively murderous, glaring hard, who needs to defuse the situation? You, again.
Someone is getting brutally murdered tonight, you think to yourself as you coolly take another sip from your glass.
When you joined your colleagues for a drink earlier in the evening, you were not counting on Ghost and Soap's presence. Your butt had barely grazed your seat that the scotsman was enthusiastically waving at you from across the bar, turning himself into the center of attention, while his taciturn companion was looking you up and down, dark stare as intense as ever, sizing you up like you were a potential adversary… or prey.
You had given a half smile and a reserved hand motion in return, before refocusing your attention on the people you came with.
You were still mad at Ghost, after all.
The bastard had been toying with you, letting you believe that, maybe, there could be something more between you two. Then you discovered he was fucking around with his blue-eyed Sergeant too.
Not appreciating being just another conquest, you had been keeping your distance from him.
Until now.
Until the beauty sliding her way to Johnny catches your eye. She's undeniably attractive, and with the confidence to match. Maybe a bit too confident, you gauge as your eyes follow the motion of her hand informally palpating Soap's bicep.
You glance at Ghost, curious of his reaction.
What you find sends a cold shiver down your spine. If looks could kill… the poor thing would be dead several times over. In very gruesome ways.
It's a miracle she doesn’t feel his deadly stare piercing her skull, like he was trying to headshot her unarmed.
He hasn’t budged an inch, but even from afar, you can read the tension in his muscles— the line of his jaw, the strain of his forearm, the clench of his fist. Even with the mask, you can guess the scowl twisting his features.
You swear you can hear his glass of whisky wince under the pressure of his vice-like grip.
That's when you decide to prevent a carnage.
Finishing your drink, and informing your coworkers that you’d be back soon, you make your way to the bothersome couple and their no-less-bothersome third wheel, quickly plotting a plan of attack. How to get her to give up her target without causing— too much of— a scene?
Walking by Ghost before reaching your goal, you hiss at him under your breath: “Behave.”
Sneaking behind Johnny, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, embracing him from behind with a sickly sweet smile for your mark, fingers crossed that he'll play along, or at least keep his big mouth shut.
Chest pressed against his back, and lips close to his ear, you ask out loud:
“Sweetheart, who's your friend?”
Before the forenamed can reply, the woman snaps back, all her smiles and seductive tone gone out the window.
“No, who do you think you are?”
Outch. And to think you're doing all this to preserve her life. Ungrateful much?
You tighten your grip over Soap's possessively, your cordial expression not faltering.
“You should know not to go after taken men.”
“I'm sorry, I didn't see your name anywhere on him.”
So that's how she wants to play this, uh. Time to show her you can beat her at her own game easily.
“Oh, my bad, forgot to mark him before letting him out.”
Your hand leaves Johnny's chest to grab his jaw between thumb and forefinger, with enough strength to turn his face away from you, but not enough to hurt him, and making good use of the newfound access to his throat, you bite.
A strangled little noise escapes him, but you barely pay it any mind as you look up to stare at your opponent defiantly, and the mix of shock and revulsion in the grimace twisting her features tells you you've won. She gets up and takes off with a scoff. She must certainly take you for a freak, but it's a small sacrifice you’re willing to make.
Releasing Soap, you slump by his free side at the booth with a heavy sigh.
“Sorry. Don't be mad at me, that's all I found to make her leave.”
“I don't think ‘mad’ is what he's feeling now, luv.”
You glare at Ghost, irked by how satisfied he sounds. He half-turned your way, one arm leaning on the backrest, one hand squeezing his Sergeant's thigh.
“L.T.”, hisses the latter through gritted teeth, and it sounds like a plea, while absolutely refusing to meet your eyes.
“This is all your fault, you know,” you groan in the culprit's direction.
“S’that so?”
The smugger he sounds, the hotter your blood runs. It's not until you can feel his warm breath on your skin that you realize that, in your anger, you leaned towards him so much— and he returned the favor— that your faces are inches away. You even reflected him without meaning too, seizing Johnny's other thigh to balance yourself, causing the aforenamed to gulp.
“Sure it's not an excuse to drape yourself all over Johnny?”
You've never wanted to strangle someone so badly.
“You're delirious.”
“Gonna have to take responsibility for the state you've put him in.”
“That's bullshit. Johnny, tell him it's—”
Your mouth abruptly close as you take in the Sergeant's flustered state— half-lidded eyes, flushed face and ears, imploring expression.
“Guess I'll just have to demonstrate, then…”
Turning his words into deeds, Simon grabs your hand and directs it towards Soap.
“Nonono, Simonplease—”
In other circumstances, you would have put a stop to this. Set Ghost straight, shield Soap, embody the voice of reason. But…. Your mouth is dry, your skin ablaze, lust the only thing on your mind. It's like Johnny's beseeching whine caused most of your blood to desert your brain and rush South.
And Simon's actions are not helping— quite the opposite.
He guides your hand to his Sergeant's crotch, and the hard-on you find there sweeps away all the doubts you had about him not being into this, nor into you. The contact wrests a hiss from your target, and you look up to find him biting into his fist— a desperate effort to keep quiet. Glistening blue eyes bore into you, and you forget about anyone else's existence until Ghost speaks up again.
“Believe me now?”
The trip back to the base was a blur. One second you were in the bar, engaged in a staring contest, the next the sound of the lock of Ghost's bedroom rings out in the silence.
You barely find your bearings that Soap gets shoved on his back on the bed, and a warm hand on your back makes you land on him right after.
“Oof, what the fuck,” you complain as you rise on your forearms.
Soap isn’t deterred by the manhandling at all— used to it?—, instead lifting his head to nuzzle against you with a happy sigh. That's only then that you realize you somehow fell with your chest right in his face.
You attempt to get up on all four, but Johnny's grabby hands on your ass pinning you against him make it difficult.
“Bloody hell Soap, let me get up.”
He whines in protest at the command but obeys anyway.
You crawl backwards to meet his eyes. Next thing you know, his hand slips behind your neck to notch your mouth with his.
He's panting when you split up. The view makes you chuckle good-naturedly.
“So worked up already. I barely touched you.”
When he attempts to kiss you again, lips brushing yours, you recoil and perch on his lap.
You tug at his shirt and he sits up straight without needing to be asked twice.
“Let me look at you.”
Cradling his face, you stroke his bottom lip with your thumb as you contemplate him, taking in his dilated pupils and disheveled mohawk.
Enjoying his obedience as much as his eagerness, you let him remove your top, grope your chest and suck at your nipples.
Lost in his ministrations, you would have almost forgotten about his lieutenant's presence until a gloved hand slides from your hip to cup your crotch, and a warm torso presses against your back. You turn your head to get a look at him but he objects to it.
“Don't mind me, love. Focus on Johnny, yeah? Got the poor thing all pent up.”
The above-named openly moans at that, and you make a mental note— “likes when we talk about him like he's not there.”
There's a gap between Ghost's words and actions though, and it becomes incredibly hard to concentrate on Johnny when he slips his hand inside your pants to tease you with his fingers while kissing your neck. Of course he's doing this on purpose, the smug bastard. The night promises to be long.
#mine#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#ghoap x reader#ghoap x you#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#john soap mctavish x reader#cod x reader#x reader#ghost x you#soap x reader#cod fic#cod smut#cod fanfic#smut#ghost x reader#soap squad™️#soap squad
466 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Game of Hearts
Chapter five: A Dance of Silence
Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?
Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13
The days that followed were quieter than usual, and you weren’t sure if that made things better or worse. The silence between you had become a language of its own, one you both spoke fluently. When you passed him in the hall, neither of you said a word. When he sat at the table for his rare meals, you kept your distance.
But somehow, despite the space between you, there was an unspoken understanding that things weren’t as they seemed. He wasn’t the cold, unfeeling man you’d pegged him for in the beginning. And you… you weren’t sure who you were anymore.
It was on the third night after that strange, almost tender exchange by the window when you found yourself standing at the end of the hallway, your hand hovering over the doorknob to his office. You didn’t know why you were here, why you were so drawn to the quiet, dimly lit space beyond. Maybe it was the soft music playing or the glow of the fireplace seeping beneath the door.
The door clicked open with a soft sound, and you stepped inside before you could second-guess yourself.
The room was as cold and sterile as ever, lit only by the faint glow of the fireplace. The warmth that filled the space was comforting, a strange contrast to the otherwise lifeless atmosphere. It was organized, too organized, nothing out of place. But it was the desk in the center of the room that caught your eye. Papers scattered haphazardly across the surface, as though someone had been interrupted in the middle of something important.
You reached for the papers, your curiosity getting the best of you, when a soft cough startled you.
You spun around, your heart leaping into your throat, to find the Frontman standing in the doorway, his mask already in his hand. He hadn’t made a sound as he approached, and for a moment, you saw something almost… human in his eyes.
“What are you doing in here?” he asked, his voice rougher than usual.
You quickly set the papers down, feeling the sharp sting of guilt. “I-”
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his tone low, but there was an unmistakable edge to it that you hadn’t heard before.
For a long time, neither of you moved. It was as though the world outside the room didn’t exist. Just the two of you, standing in the dim light, caught in a fragile moment of raw vulnerability.
“Why do you keep pushing me away?” you asked before you could stop yourself. The question slipped out unbidden, but the moment the words left your mouth, you realized how long you’d been holding them in.
His expression didn’t shift for a moment. He just stared at you, as though weighing your words carefully. Then, finally, he exhaled and answered, “Because I don’t know how to do this.”
“And you think I do?” you asked, genuine curiosity bleeding into your voice.
His shoulders tensed, the muscles in his neck tightening as if he was trying to hold back something, something he wasn’t ready to release. Then he moved across the room, to the black leather couch at the far side.
He sat down, taking a glass of whisky from the small bar by the wall, his movements deliberate, almost mechanical. You stood frozen in place, unsure of whether to follow him or not. Finally, he looked back over his shoulder, locking eyes with you.
“Sit,” he said, his voice almost gentle, yet commanding in its own way.
You hesitated for a moment, but something in his gaze tugged at you. You walked over, sat down beside him on the couch, the distance between you still palpable but shrinking.
He took a sip of his drink, eyes fixed ahead, the firelight casting flickering shadows across his maskless face. It was always a strange thing—seeing him without his mask, even if only for a moment. His face was unremarkable in its sharpness, but there was something in the way his brow furrowed, something raw in his expression that made you feel exposed.
The silence stretched on, and it was becoming increasingly unbearable. You shifted on the couch, trying to find the right words. But he beat you to it.
“You want to know why I push you away?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
You nodded, though you weren’t sure how to phrase the question anymore.
He glanced at you briefly, his eyes tired. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with someone like you.”
Your brow furrowed at the words, your pulse quickening in confusion. “Someone like me?”
He sighed, a short, bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Someone who doesn’t fit into all of this,” he motioned around the room vaguely, as if referring to the whole situation, the compound, the games, everything. “You don’t belong here. And I don’t know how to make you understand that.”
The words hung heavy in the air between you. You felt your chest tighten, but you refused to look away. “Then why don’t you let me go?”
He turned to you, his gaze sharp, and for a moment, it was as though he was considering it. But then he exhaled, setting his glass down on the side table with a soft clink.
“Because I can’t,” he said quietly.
The vulnerability in his voice shocked you. There was something so honest in those few words that it left you breathless.
“So we’re both stuck,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.
“Seems that way,” he replied. There was a pause, and then he added, “I never asked for any of this either.”
Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, something unexpected rising in your chest. “You never did, did you?” You leaned back slightly, your gaze flickering to the fire. “You think I wanted to be here, in this place, with you? I didn’t ask for it either.”
His gaze softened, just for a moment, and in that fleeting moment, it felt as though the walls between you were beginning to crack. But before you could say anything else, he stood, the moment lost as quickly as it had come.
“You should get some rest,” he said, his tone shifting back to the detached coldness you were becoming all too familiar with.
You nodded, trying to ignore the disappointment that surged in your chest. He wasn’t ready. Neither of you were.
As he walked toward the door, you called out quietly, “You don’t have to push me away, you know.”
He paused, just for a beat, but didn’t turn around. “I’m not sure I know any other way,” he said, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.
With that, the door closed behind him, and you were left sitting alone in the quiet of the room, your heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.
———————
Chapter 5!! Yippee!
Tag list:
@sunny21200
@lucinda-reads
@shakysif
@whoisbriannaa
@allmylovegoestomusic
@swthrtbyeol
@strawberrychita
@hoddystark
@livelaughcelica
@foulbreadpaenut
@write-from-the-heart
@angelofthorr
@sylviavf
@missroro
@siloveyourmoms
@luv1ze
@audrey223
@khaylin27
@gay4hotmilfs
@mimis-u3u
@captainlunaxmen
@cdej6
#squid games x reader#squid game x y/n#squid game x reader#squid game#x reader#in ho x reader#frontman x reader#the front man#arranged marriage#marriage au
306 notes
·
View notes
Text
late night mischief
anthony bridgerton x wife!reader reader gets dragged into a bit of late night mischief with the bridgerton siblings while anthony is away.
tw: slightly nsfw, spanking
Y/N walked down the stairs of Bridgerton House, holding tightly onto the nightrobe she’d donned on her way out of her bedroom. She was having trouble sleeping due to her husband’s absence. As she walked past her husband’s study and towards the kitchen, she heard hushed whispers.
“Hush Eloise, you’ll alert the entirety of the house with your cackling!”
“Benedict?” She muttered to herself. What could he and Eloise possibly be up to at this hour?
She pushed the door to the study open, slipping through the opening. She lifted her hand to cover her mouth, laughing silently at the sight before her. Eloise, hoisted up on a ladder rummaging through one of the many shelves in the dark room. Benedict, holding onto said ladder to prevent Eloise from stumbling.
“What on earth are you two ne'er do wells doing?” She exclaimed, turning to shut the door before anyone else could be alerted.
Eloise turned abruptly, if it weren’t for Benedict’s hold on the ladder, she would have come toppling down. She smiled sheepishly, as did Benedict.
“Y/N! My most favored sister-in-law! Should you like to join us?” Benedict said, his eyebrows raised in invitation.
Y/N hesitated. The Bridgertons always played pranks on each other, it was part of what made this family so unique. They constantly poked fun at one another unlike the typical stuffy and overly formal families of the ton, including Y/N’s own. Pranking her older siblings was something she could never even dream of doing. She had yet to join in on any of the pranks the Bridgertons carried out but she’d been witness to her husband who found himself at the center of many a prank quite often.
“Come now, you’ve yet to give Anthony some trouble, it’s quite the thrill to see the look of disbelief on his face,” Eloise said, imitating her eldest brother’s furrowed brow.
She huffed, unable to keep the smile off her face. “Fine. But just this once, I do not wish to make a habit of troubling my husband, your eldest brother, I should remind you. He deserves some respect, does he not?”
Eloise and Benedict rolled their eyes in unison, “He receives plenty of respect, why do you think he’s so pompous and arrogant half the time?” Benedict replied.
“Come, you can begin by hiding his preferred whisky behind these dusty old books,” He said, gesturing to the crystal decanter on the wooden desk.
She walked over to the shelf, removing some of the books, a light cloud of dust billowing up at the sudden disturbance. She waved a hand in front of her face, “Dusty indeed.” Benedict shrugged, “I told you.”
She reached for the crystal decanter but before she could take it, Eloise cut in.
“Wait! We should each take a drink, imagine the look of horror on Anthony’s face if he knew we’d consumed some of his prized whiskey” She stepped down from the ladder.
Benedict chuckled, amused by the idea.
“Well then, after you, Viscountess Bridgerton” Benedict poured a drink into a glass and handed it to her. Y/N didn’t have a habit of drinking anything stronger than wine but being in cahoots with the two most mischievous Bridgertons gave her a sudden rush. She eyed the amber liquid before she took a sip, instantly regretting it. She coughed, shocked by the bitterness of the drink.
“Is this even for human consumption?” She questioned, her face scrunched in disgust.
Benedict took the glass from her hand and only shook his head as he downed the rest of her drink. He coughed once, “Leave it to our brother to drink something as bitter as he is.”
Eloise poured herself a sip as well, throwing her head back as she quickly swallowed the drink. She winced, “Oh, that’s awful.”
The three of them giggled, the alcohol worked quickly, warming them up and lowering their inhibitions even further. If Anthony were here to see them, she could only imagine the fury. Perhaps he’d make good on his threats to take her over his knee. Her stomach fluttered at the thought. Her husband frequently threatened to spank her, ever the authoritative viscount. Anthony hated when she made belittling remarks about herself every so often or when she teased him at dinner parties to get him riled. But he hadn’t ever gone through with it. Perhaps this would be his last straw.
As if her thoughts had summoned him, the doorknob rattled and it felt as though someone had poured ice-cold water on the three troublemakers. They scrambled to find a place to hide, Y/N quickly shoved herself under the desk, lifting her knees to her chest hoping she’d disappear. Benedict sat on the other end of the desk, resigned at his fate of being discovered. Eloise sat on the chair, a book in hand hoping it’d simply look like she was doing some late-night reading.
The door opened, Y/N could only hear what was about to happen. Y/N said a silent prayer for sibling-in-laws.
“What the bloody hell are you two doing in here?” Anthony asked, not angry – yet.
“Oh, brother. How nice of you to join us. Drink?” Benedict offered, trying his best to remain nonchalant.
“That was not an answer, Benedict. What are you doing here?” He enunciated, she could hear her husband’s patience wearing thin.
“Whatever could you mean, brother? Benedict and I could not sleep so we both had the idea of coming down here to lounge about” Eloise stuttered.
Anthony huffed, “Never mind. My wife is not in our room, do the two of you buffoons happen to know where she might be?”
Shit.
Benedict and Eloise stilled, the latter’s eyes dropping down to where Y/N hid and then back up to Anthony.
“Eloise?” Anthony said pointedly, “Is my wife under that desk?” He huffed.
Eloise let out a nervous laugh. Y/N could feel the ground shake with each step her husband took. He towered over her, his head tilted to the side, hands on either hip.
She looked up as innocently as she could, donning a sheepish smile in hopes it might charm her husband enough to overlook their mischief.
“Hello, dear,” She said meekly.
Anthony rolled his eyes, reaching down to grab her arm and pull her out from underneath the desk. With his hand still around her arm, he looked at his siblings.
“Bed. Now.”
With that, the two scurried away, leaving Y/N alone with her husband.
Anthony let her go, reaching behind her to fill his cup with a drink. He swirled the glass, staring her down as he took a sip and then, to her utter shock, downed the entire glass at once with no indication of its bitterness. She swallowed, suddenly intimidated by the man in front of her and his tolerance of strong liquor. He turned, taking a seat in his chair, knees spread. He rested his head in one of his hands, looking at his wife in thought.
She stood before him and although he was looking up at her, Y/N felt rather small. Warmth rose to her cheeks, Anthony’s gaze was intense and there was nothing she could do to escape it. He exhaled.
“Come here,” he motioned with a hand. She walked towards him, hesitant. He grabbed her, pulling her to stand in between his legs. His hands trailed up until they rested at her waist. Her breathing quickened in pace.
“You’re becoming quite troublesome, Y/N, what am I to do with you?” He murmured, his hands tightening their grip on her waist.
It must have been the alcohol for she had never been one to be so forward, especially with the man before her. Despite being married for nearly a year, she still found herself timid when he gazed at her with eyes filled with desire, and hunger.
“I recall several threats of a spanking, my lord” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Anthony’s brows raised a smile formed on his face in amusement but his eyes darkened at the challenge. In one swift motion, he pulled her down over his knees. Her torso rested on one knee while his other knee lifted over her lower body to keep her legs in place. She stumbled forward but he quickly grabbed one of her arms, pulling it behind her to keep her steady. Her other arm rested on her side, against her husband’s chest. His other hand snaked up under her robe, Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.
“Count each spank,” he commanded. His voice rumbled through Y/N’s core.
She only nodded, failing to muster the courage to speak. Her breath quickened in anticipation, suspense prickling at her skin. When she least expected it, his hand came down harshly with a loud slap. At first, she couldn’t feel the impact but mere seconds later, warmth spread across her bottom. She gasped.
“Count," he repeated.
She inhaled, “One.”
His hand came down again.
“Two.”
Again.
“Three.”
Y/N’s face grew warmer, tears beginning to well in her eyes at the stinging sensation. She felt electrified. Her breaths came in and out rapidly as he continued his punishment.
She yelped, and the warm sting finally made way to a more painful sensation. Anthony stopped, assuming she’d had enough. She struggled against him, trying to wriggle her arm out of his grasp. His rough hands gently rubbed her bottom, hot from the impact. Cooing and shushing her to calm her before he released her.
“Are you alright?” He asked her softly, releasing his grip and pulling her into a straddling position. She nodded against his neck, her cheeks still warm. He pulled her back and held her face for a moment, scanning her for signs of regret or fear. She gave him a sleepy smile. When he was satisfied that she was only tired from their activities, his fingers buried themselves in her hair, gently caressing her, causing her to grow even sleepier. She hummed, enjoying the tender moment between them after days of missing her husband.
“I must say if this is how you’d like to end nights of mischief – I might allow for more opportunities,” her husband chuckled.
She huffed a laugh, already falling asleep against his chest to the rise and fall of his breathing. She felt him press a kiss atop her head, murmuring something she couldn’t quite catch as she drifted off.
825 notes
·
View notes
Text
New Year's Eve - Yungi (Special)
Happy New Year's Eve & Happy New Year, sweethearts! 🎆
pairing: ceo!mingi x model f!reader x manager!yunho
genre: 18+, filth(ish)
summary: alcohol loosened your mouth a bit.. and your actions had gotten bolder to the point you fucked both your ceo and manager. but fuck it, they were whipped for you anyways.
wc: 6.1k
warnings: ceo!mingi, co-ceo/manager!yunho, fashion model f!reader, alcohol involved (champagne and whisky), Mingi is damn wasted and desperate for reader, Yunho is more controlled but he's also done for, oral, double oral (mhm yes she takes em both hihi), soft deepthroating, soft hair pushing/face thrusting, making out, teasing, drunken confession, in my opinion Yunho could drink more than Mingi and Mingi would still be gone & wasted, oral sex (f), use of sex toys (vibrator), use of hand restraint (Yunho's belt), some praise sprinkles, double penetration, threesome, did I say Mingi is needy?, lots lots of cumm, overstimulation, unprotected (boo wrap up irl!), unedited, might edit later, for sure forgot something.
Author's Note: I completely forgot to post this bro 😭😭😭 I'm so sorry I was out all day and night for nye and I completely forgot. But hey! It's spicy and I was like eh fuck it, no one would've read it exactly on nye soooo here it is finally! I hope everyone had a great if not wonderful time with their loved ones, doesn't matter friends, family or lovers ^^ Happy New Year, Happy 2025 and let's have fun together!!! Love you sweethearts 🤍
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the members in any way.
The penthouse was a sight to behold, an epitome of luxury that only Mingi could pull off. The crystal-clear windows framed the city skyline, glittering with lights as the countdown to New Year’s Eve loomed closer. Inside, the space glowed with warm lighting and tasteful decor. The centerpiece of the evening was a bucket of expensive champagne chilling on the bar, a nod to the success of Mingi’s fashion empire and the new year that promised even greater heights.
Standing near the bar, Mingi adjusted his cufflinks, his sharp black suit fitting him like a second skin. He swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand, glancing at the clock with a raised brow.
“Late as always,” he muttered, though a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.
The soft chime of the elevator broke the silence. Mingi straightened, setting down his glass. The doors slid open, revealing Yunho first, his easy grin and sharp blazer exuding a casual confidence. But it was you who stole the show.
Dressed in a sleek, shimmery black dress that caught the light with every step, you walked out behind Yunho. The fabric hugged your curves in all the right places, the slit high enough to turn heads. In your hands, you held a bottle of champagne, a playful smile on your lips.
“We brought reinforcements!” you announced, holding the bottle up triumphantly as you walked toward Mingi.
“Fashionably late, I see,” Mingi teased, taking the champagne from you. His eyes lingered just a moment longer than necessary. “But I’ll forgive you. You look stunning.”
“Thanks, darling. It’s only fair to match the ambiance of your penthouse,” you replied, flashing a wink before slipping past him to the bar.
Yunho chuckled as he followed, setting his coat aside. “Don’t let her charm fool you, Mingi. She made me stop twice to check her hair on the way here.”
“I just like looking perfect. Is that a crime?” you quipped, settling onto one of the plush chairs near the fireplace.
The evening began with laughter, the champagne flowing freely as the three of you toasted to the successes of the past year. Mingi, ever the gracious host, ensured that your glasses were never empty. Yunho took the role of storyteller, regaling everyone with tales from childhood, including one about a particularly embarrassing moment involving Mingi and a failed attempt at skateboarding.
“Some things don’t need to be shared,” Mingi grumbled, but the fondness in his tone betrayed his irritation.
“Come on, it’s the last night of the year!” Yunho said, raising his glass. “We’re celebrating everything tonight—embarrassments included.”
You laughed, leaning closer to Mingi. “I think it’s endearing. Shows you’re not always perfect.”
“Oh, trust me,” Mingi replied, his voice low and smooth, “I’m far from perfect. But I’m close.”
As the night progressed and the champagne bottles were emptied, the atmosphere shifted subtly. The room was warmer, the laughter louder, and the touches lingered just a little longer. You found yourself seated between Mingi and Yunho on the large sectional, your legs tucked beneath you as you leaned toward Yunho, your hand resting lightly on his arm.
“So,” you began, your voice teasing, “what’s the plan for next year? More long meetings where you two bicker like an old married couple?”
Yunho groaned, tipping his head back. “You have no idea how much patience it takes to deal with this guy.”
“Me?” Mingi scoffed. “I’m the reason we’re successful. You’re just here for damage control.”
“And to manage your favorite model,” Yunho added, nudging you gently.
“Ah, yes. The face of the brand,” Mingi said, his gaze sliding to you. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You flatter me,” you said, feigning humility.
“Only when it’s true,” Mingi replied, his tone dipping into something softer, something that made your cheeks warm.
It wasn’t long before the champagne had taken its toll. The three of you were sprawled comfortably, the city outside sparkling brighter as midnight approached. You stretched, your dress riding up slightly as you did. Neither Mingi nor Yunho missed it, though they both tried to be discreet.
Feeling bold, you leaned against Yunho, your fingers toying with the lapel of his blazer. “You know,” you said, your voice a little too sweet, “I’ve been thinking.”
“Uh-oh,” Yunho teased, his brow arching. “This is either going to be genius or chaos.”
You smirked, your fingers trailing up his chest. “Don’t you think we’ve been a little... too professional all this time?”
Mingi, sipping his drink, choked slightly and glanced at you with wide eyes. Yunho froze, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air.
“Excuse me?” Yunho finally said, his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement.
You tilted your head, your gaze meeting his with a challenge. “You heard me, sweetie.”
“Sweetie?” Mingi echoed, setting his glass down. “Oh, she’s bold tonight.”
“You’re drunk,” Yunho said, though his eyes darkened just a fraction as you moved closer, climbing and settling yourself on his lap without hesitation.
“Maybe,” you admitted, wrapping your arms around his neck, “but I’m also right.”
“Weren’t we keeping this professional?” Yunho asked, his hands instinctively settling on your waist.
“Maybe we’ve been too professional,” you whispered, your lips dangerously close to his ear.
The tension in the room thickened. Mingi leaned back in his seat, watching with raised brows and a barely concealed grin.
“Well?” Mingi drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. “Are you going to let her get away with this, Yunho?”
Yunho groaned, shaking his head as if to clear it. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though his hands tightened their grip on your waist.
“And you love it,” you shot back, brushing your nose against his.
With a resigned sigh and a muttered curse, Yunho pulled you closer, his breath ghosting over your lips. Mingi let out a low whistle.
“Happy New Year to me,” Mingi said, raising his glass. “This is better than fireworks.”
Yunho froze for a moment, his lips just a whisper away from yours, his breath mingling with yours. It took a second for the haze of alcohol and your boldness to fully register in his mind. But when your hips shifted against him again, pressing closer, the wet heat seeping through the fabric of your panties and onto his pants, a low growl escaped his throat.
It wasn’t just teasing anymore.
“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with tension. His hands tightened their grip on your waist, his knuckles whitening as he tried to steady himself. “Do you even know what you’re doing right now?”
You tilted your head, a mischievous grin on your lips as you leaned in, brushing your nose against his. “What does it feel like I’m doing?”
Yunho’s restraint cracked. His lips crashed against yours, firm and commanding, like months of held-back desire spilling out all at once. The kiss was nothing short of a claim, his hands sliding from your waist to your hips, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly, and the sound that rumbled from his chest sent a thrill through you.
Your hips shifted again, pressing against him instinctively, and Yunho let out a sharp breath, breaking the kiss for just a moment. “Y/N,” he said again, this time almost a warning, but his voice betrayed the edge of a groan.
Your arousal was soaking through your dress, dampening his pants, and the sensation only made the heat between you more unbearable. Yunho’s lips found yours again, rougher this time, as if he couldn’t help himself.
From across the couch, Mingi watched the scene unfold, frozen in place. He’d tried to stay calm, to play the role of the disinterested observer. But as your hips shifted again on Yunho’s lap, the way your dress clung to you and the damp fabric hinted at just how affected you were—it was too much.
Mingi shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the tightness in his pants now impossible to ignore. He cursed under his breath, trying to adjust himself discreetly, but the movement caught Yunho’s attention.
Breaking the kiss, Yunho rested his forehead against yours for a moment, catching his breath before glancing over at Mingi. His sharp eyes took in the way Mingi was shifting, his jaw tight and his glass held a little too firmly. A smirk played on Yunho’s lips as he spoke.
“So,” Yunho drawled, his voice thick and teasing, “she’s not the only one excited here.”
You blinked, momentarily dazed from the kiss, but when the meaning registered, your eyes darted to Mingi. The sight of him—tense, clearly aroused despite his attempt at composure—sent a flush up your neck.
Mingi scoffed, his voice rough as he tore his gaze away from you. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he muttered, though even he didn’t sound convinced.
You smirked, turning back to Yunho. “What can I say? Guess I have that effect.”
Yunho chuckled, his hands sliding possessively up your sides. “That, you do,” he murmured, his voice low enough that it sent a shiver through you.
Mingi stood abruptly as he made his way to the bar. He poured himself another drink with more force than necessary, trying to shake the images from his mind. The heat radiating from where you and Yunho sat was unbearable, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to look away completely.
“I need another drink,” he announced, his tone clipped.
Yunho’s smirk widened as he turned back to you, his fingers brushing along the edge of your dress. “I think we’re making him uncomfortable,” he teased.
You laughed softly, leaning closer to Yunho. “Good,” you said, your voice a sultry whisper.
Mingi clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around his glass as the tension in the room grew thicker, almost suffocating.
The air in the penthouse was thick with tension, the kind that made your heart race and every movement feel electrified. Yunho’s hands lingered on your waist as you leaned back slightly, his lap still warm beneath you. Your eyes flicked to Mingi, who was pouring himself another drink with a little too much focus, his jaw tight and his posture tense.
You smirked.
“Don’t think I forgot about you, darling,” you said, your voice smooth and teasing.
Mingi froze for a split second, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at you over his shoulder. “What are you talking about?” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.
Slowly, deliberately, you slid off Yunho’s lap, your movements fluid and calculated. For a moment, Yunho’s hands tightened on your hips, reluctant to let you go, but he released you with a low hum of curiosity.
You stood, adjusting your dress with a slow, deliberate motion, your eyes catching briefly on the evidence of your effect on Yunho—the bulge pressing against his slacks, darkened slightly where your arousal had soaked through. The sight sent a thrill down your spine, your confidence swelling as you turned your attention to Mingi.
He was pretending to be unaffected, his focus on the drink he was pouring, but his shoulders were tense, and his grip on the glass was just a bit too firm. You sauntered toward him, your heels clicking softly against the floor.
“Mingi,” you said sweetly, standing just close enough that he could feel your presence.
“What?” he replied, his voice clipped, though he didn’t turn around.
You reached out, your fingers trailing lightly up his back and over his shoulder. The touch made him stiffen slightly, and you smiled, stepping closer until you were standing in front of him.
Your hand slid up his chest, fingers teasing over the fine fabric of his suit jacket, and his eyes finally met yours. There was heat there, barely restrained, as if he were trying desperately to keep some semblance of control.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and laced with warning.
You tilted your head, your hand drifting lower, over his stomach and down toward his belt. “What do you think I’m doing?” you asked innocently, your fingers brushing against the obvious bulge straining against his slacks.
Mingi flinched slightly at the contact, his breath hitching as his free hand shot out to grab your wrist. “Careful,” he said, his tone dark and edged with tension. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you leaned in closer, your lips just a breath away from his ear. “Oh, I think I do,” you whispered.
Before Mingi could respond, Yunho’s hands appeared on your waist, his warm touch grounding and electrifying all at once. His chest pressed lightly against your back, and his voice was a low rumble as he addressed Mingi.
“What do you think we should do with her?” Yunho asked, his tone teasing but his grip firm.
Mingi’s jaw clenched, his eyes darting between you and Yunho as if trying to gauge the situation.
You, however, didn’t hesitate. Turning your head slightly, you met Yunho’s gaze with boldness, then looked back at Mingi.
“I want both of you,” you said bluntly, your voice steady and unwavering.
The statement hung in the air like a firework, bursting with heat and possibility. Mingi’s hand tightened slightly around your wrist, and Yunho’s grip on your waist became more possessive.
“Is that so?” Yunho murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver through you.
Mingi let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “You really are something else,” he muttered, though the tension in his voice hinted at something deeper.
“And you love it,” you said, throwing the words back at him with a sly smile.
You leaned closer to Mingi, the faint scent of his cologne enveloping you as you arched your back slightly, pressing yourself against him. The contact was electrifying, your hips moving just enough to graze against the hardness straining in his slacks. Mingi’s jaw tightened, his grip on your wrist faltering for just a moment before he caught himself, his sharp intake of breath betraying his composure.
“Y/N,” he warned, though his voice was shaky, the restraint in it fraying at the edges.
Before he could say anything else, Yunho’s hands slid over your waist, his touch firm and grounding, yet possessive. His chest pressed against your back, and the warmth of his body seeped into you, making you feel caught between the two of them in the most delicious way.
Yunho leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke, his voice low and husky. “You’ve got no idea what you’re doing to us right now,” he murmured.
You smirked, glancing back at him. “Don’t I?”
His eyes were dark, sultry, and filled with desire as he looked down at you. The alcohol had clearly loosened his tongue, but his confession came with a weight that made your breath hitch.
“I’ve been wanting to fuck you for a damn long time,” he admitted, his voice raw with honesty and hunger. “Every time you walked into the room, every time you gave me that little bratty attitude of yours, I wanted to take you apart.”
The words hung in the air, making your heart race. Mingi stiffened, his jaw clenching as he turned his head slightly to glance at Yunho.
“And Mingi,” Yunho continued, his tone teasing now, “he’s just as bad. Wanted you just as much. But he’s a pussy and never said anything about it.”
Your lips parted slightly, stunned by Yunho’s bluntness, though a flicker of amusement danced in your eyes as you turned to Mingi. “Is that true?” you teased, your voice lilting and playful, though the weight of Yunho’s words lingered in the air.
Mingi’s gaze darkened, his restraint snapping as the last thread of control unraveled. His hand released your wrist, and in a swift motion, he grabbed your waist with both hands, pulling you against him. The force of it made you gasp, and before you could process what was happening, he lifted you effortlessly and placed you on the bar counter.
His body caged yours, his hands firm on either side of you as his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sent a thrill through you. “You want the truth?” he asked, his voice low and dangerously controlled.
You nodded, your confidence faltering slightly under his piercing gaze.
“The truth,” Mingi said, his voice rough as his hands slid up your thighs, “is that I’ve wanted you since the moment you walked into my office. But I kept my mouth shut because I thought it was the professional thing to do.” His hands tightened on your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to make you shiver. “And now, here you are, making it impossible to hold back.”
Before you could respond, Mingi’s lips crashed against yours, his kiss searing and commanding, leaving no room for argument. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as he claimed you with a fervor that made your head spin.
Yunho’s hands never left your waist, his presence behind you a constant reminder that this was far from over. His low chuckle filled your ears as he leaned in again, his lips brushing against your other ear. “Told you he wanted it,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction.
Mingi pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his breath heavy and his eyes searching yours. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice rough and barely controlled.
You nodded, breathless. “Yes,” you whispered.
“Good,” Mingi replied, his voice firm as he pulled you back in for another kiss, his grip on you unwavering.
Yunho’s breath was hot on your ear as he leaned in, his hands still resting on your waist. His voice was husky, full of that delicious edge that only alcohol and desire could bring.
"Should we take this further?" he asked, the words slow and deliberate. "But I can't guarantee you'll be able to walk tomorrow. You might even forget how to be that bratty little thing you are the next day."
Your heart raced at his words, a wicked little smile curling on your lips as you glanced at Mingi. His gaze was fixed on you, dark with desire, and for a moment, it was clear neither of them had any intention of backing down.
Mingi, too drunk to process his thoughts fully, stood without a word, the hunger in his eyes evident as he moved toward you. Before you could even protest, he swept you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly, his body pressing against yours.
Yunho, eyes never leaving you, followed behind him as Mingi made his way toward the bedroom, his hands tightening around you as he carefully but urgently laid you down on the bed. The movement was smooth, deliberate, like he couldn't wait another second.
The bed shifted beneath you, and you could feel the heat radiating from Mingi as he straightened up. His fingers fumbled briefly with the buttons of his shirt, the fabric falling away from his body, revealing the toned chest you had been imagining for so long. Then, with a look that bordered between hunger and need, he took off his pants, standing tall over you.
You couldn’t tear your eyes away, and you noticed Yunho following his lead, his eyes darkened and filled with a similar urgency. The way they both moved, as if they were drawn to you like magnets, made your heart race even faster. He'd only taken his shirt off, his patience running thin.
But then, it was your turn.
Yunho moved closer to the bed, and with a surprising tenderness, his hands brushed over your sides, gently lifting your dress over your head. The way he undressed you wasn’t rushed or forceful. Instead, it was slow, almost reverent, as if you were something rare, something to be cherished.
You shivered under their gaze, the anticipation in the air thickening as Mingi and Yunho marveled at you. The delicate black lingerie that enveloped your body seemed to shimmer in the soft lighting, contrasting beautifully against your skin. Both men were momentarily frozen in awe, their gazes roaming over you with admiration and wonder.
"You’re…" Mingi started, his voice barely above a whisper, but the word hung in the air—unable to fully capture the intensity of what he was feeling.
Yunho’s lips parted slightly, his hand resting on the bed beside you as he took in the sight. “You’re perfect,” he said, his voice thick with desire, a soft smile pulling at his lips.
“I've never wanted to fuck you so bad until now… but that can wait, for a moment” Mingi said, eyes roaming over yours.
The room was softly lit, the golden glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. Yunho stood near the bed, his tall frame calm and composed, while Mingi leaned casually against the dresser, his grin wide and easy, though the flush of alcohol in his system was evident in the slight sway of his movements.
—
“You know,” Yunho began, his voice smooth and steady despite the faint tint of tipsiness in his cheeks, “I think it’d be better if your hands were tied. Might make things easier for you to focus.”
His eyes flickered toward the leather belt at his waist. He slowly unbuckled it, the metallic clink of the buckle filling the quiet room. His movements were deliberate, giving you plenty of time to object if you wanted to.
You nodded, your pulse quickening at the anticipation in the air. Turning around, you felt the edge of the bed press against the backs of your thighs as Yunho stepped closer.
“Hands behind your back,” he instructed, his voice gentle but firm.
You complied, feeling the smooth leather loop around your wrists. Yunho’s fingers brushed against your skin as he secured the belt—not too tight, just enough to restrict your movement without causing discomfort. “Let me know if this is too much,” he murmured, testing the knot before stepping back to admire his work.
“Perfect,” he said, his lips curving into a small, satisfied smile.
Mingi let out a low chuckle, his gaze flickering between the two of you. “Yunho, you’re too good at this,” he teased, his voice slightly slurred but playful.
“She makes it easy,” Yunho shot back with a smirk, gesturing for you to kneel on the edge of the bed. The soft fabric of the comforter brushed against your knees as you adjusted your position, your bound hands resting lightly against your lower back.
The two of them moved to stand in front of you, their towering frames blocking out the dim light. Yunho was the first to step forward, his hand cupping your jaw as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze. “Start with me,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly along your cheek.
And you knew exactly what he meant.
You leaned forward, your movements deliberate, as you traced your tongue om his cock, from the base to the leaking tip. Yunho’s breathing hitched slightly, his calm composure wavering as his hand slid to the back of your neck. His touch was firm, guiding you but never forcing.
Beside him, Mingi watched intently, his fingers twitching as if itching to join in. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, his usual boldness softened by the alcohol coursing through his system.
After a moment, Yunho gently pulled back, his hand lingering on your shoulder as he stepped aside. “Your turn,” he said, nodding toward Mingi.
Mingi wasted no time, stepping closer with a lazy grin. “Been waiting for this,” he said, his voice low and teasing. His hand tangled lightly in your hair, his touch less controlled than Yunho’s but no less careful. He let out a shaky exhale as you leaned into him, his body visibly reacting to your efforts. Your lips sucked on his tip, drawing out whines and soft moans from his rising chest.
The energy shifted as you alternated between them, the rhythm fluid and unspoken. Yunho’s steady presence contrasted with Mingi’s more erratic responses, creating a dynamic that kept you on your toes.
Then came the moment they had both clearly been waiting for. Yunho’s hand brushed against Mingi’s shoulder as they exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them.
“You think you can handle both of us?” Yunho asked, his tone a mix of challenge and encouragement.
You nodded, your confidence growing as they moved closer, their proximity forcing them to stand shoulder to shoulder. Yunho tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. “Take your time,” he said, his voice steady.
You started slowly, focusing on one and then the other, testing your limits as you adjusted to the new feeling.. of taking both cocks at the same time. Their reactions were immediate and visceral—Yunho’s quiet groans mingling with Mingi’s more vocal appreciation.
As you began to take them both simultaneously, the intensity in the room shifted. Mingi’s hand tightened slightly in your hair, his usual bravado replaced with quiet murmurs of encouragement. Yunho’s breathing grew heavier, his hand steadying you as he guided the rhythm. Their cocks rubbing together in your mouth as you sucked both off, the stretch you felt in the corner of your lips making your eyes tear up.
Mingi was the first to test boundaries. He softly thrusted in your mouth. The feeling of hitting the back of your throat made him cum instantly, a string of curses escaping his mouth at the surprise of his fast release. Mingi pulled out and caught his breath as Yunho took full control of your head, his cock filling your mouth nicely. As you bobbed your head on his cock, your tongue licking the shaft as you sucked him off, it drove him fucking insane. You sucked harshly on the tip and pressed your tongue into it as he came in your mouth, the smirk in his fafe telling you everything you had to know. He gestured you to swallow everything, a satisfied hum filling the air.
When Yunho finally pulled back, his breathing was uneven, and the room was thick with lust. He leaned down, his fingers deftly undoing the belt around your wrists. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.
You nodded, a tired but content smile spreading across your face. Mingi flopped onto the bed beside you, his usual boldness tempered by the quiet intimacy of the moment.
—
His lips curved into a sly grin as he got up in a rush and knelt between your thighs, his large hands gently pressing them apart. “I think it’s time we really spoil her,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.
Beside you, Yunho got up from the bed to rummage in one of the bed drawers, taking out a small vibrator. He turned it on, the faint hum of the toy adding an edge to the already charged atmosphere. “Relax for us,” he said, his tone calm but firm.
Mingi wasted no time, his warm breath brushing against your clit before his mouth followed. The first touch of his tongue was soft and deliberate, a slow, wet stroke that sent shivers down your spine. He took his time, his lips and tongue exploring every inch of you, finding the spots that made you gasp and lingered there.
Yunho watched intently, his sharp eyes taking in every reaction. “She’s already responding so well,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He lowered the toy closer to where Mingi’s mouth worked, the anticipation building with every inch.
The first contact of the vibrator was light, teasing—a gentle buzz that sent jolts of pleasure through you. Mingi adjusted his rhythm immediately, his tongue working in perfect harmony with the toy. He alternated between firm, focused licks and softer, swirling motions, his hands gripping your thighs tighter to keep you steady.
“Good girl,” Yunho said softly, his deep voice grounding you as the sensations began to build. “Let us take care of you.”
Mingi hummed in agreement, the vibration of his voice adding another layer of stimulation. He angled his head slightly, his tongue flicking in quick, precise strokes that made your hips jerk against him. “She tastes so good,” he muttered, his words muffled but filled with genuine appreciation.
Yunho increased the intensity of the toy slightly, the buzzing growing sharper as he pressed it closer to your clit. The combination was overwhelming—Mingi’s hot, wet tongue moving with purpose, and the relentless vibration of the toy pushing you closer to the edge.
“Hold her still,” Yunho said, his hand pressing gently against your lower stomach to keep you steady as your body began to tremble.
Mingi glanced up briefly, his lips slick and his grin wicked. “She’s close, isn’t she?” he said, his voice low and rough. Without waiting for a response, he redoubled his efforts, his tongue moving faster and firmer, as though determined to push you over the edge.
The pressure in your core built to a crescendo, every nerve alight as the sensations became too much to bear. Yunho adjusted the toy one final time, hitting the perfect spot just as Mingi sucked lightly, his tongue swirling in tight, focused circles.
Your orgasm hit like a wave, your body arching as pleasure surged through you. Mingi didn’t stop, his tongue easing you through the intensity while Yunho pulled the toy back slightly, letting the vibrations fade as you came down from the peak.
“Breathe,” Yunho said, his tone gentle but steady as he rubbed soothing circles on your hip.
Mingi pressed a final kiss against your inner thigh before sitting back, his grin smug but affectionate. “Told you we’d make it good,” he said, his voice low and teasing.
You managed a shaky laugh, your body still trembling slightly. “You weren’t kidding,” you said, your voice breathless but full of satisfaction.
Yunho leaned over to untie the belt from your wrists, his touch careful as he massaged the faint marks left behind. “Next time,” he said with a smirk, “maybe we’ll let you be in charge.”
Mingi flopped onto the bed beside you, his hand resting lightly on your knee. “If she can still move after this,” he joked, his voice light.
—
The room was warm, the three of you still catching your breath as the quiet tension settled. Mingi stirred first again, his sex drive being overly high when he’s drunk, sitting up with a groan, his hand raking through his messy hair as his gaze locked onto you. His eyes were dark and needy, roaming over you like he couldn’t get enough.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice shaky but insistent. “Can I ask you something? Please.”
You tilted your head, curiosity flickering in your expression as your heart raced. “Of course,” you replied softly.
He leaned closer, his hands finding your thighs and gripping them firmly, his touch hot and possessive. “I—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard before continuing. “I want you. Both of us. Together. I’ve been wanting this for so fucking long.” His hands slid up slightly, his thumbs brushing your skin. “Please tell me I can have you. I won’t stop thinking about it until I hear you say it.”
Before you could answer, Yunho let out a low chuckle, his smirk teasing but edged with something darker. “Mingi, come on,” he said, though there was an unmistakable smile tugging at his lips. “Give her a second to breathe, man. You’re drunk. Don’t push her.” His eyes flickered to you, meeting your gaze as he softened slightly, though his intentions were clear.
Mingi’s jaw tightened, but there was a flash of something softer in his eyes as he glanced back at you. “I just… I need to know,” he muttered, his voice husky. “Please, I want this so badly.”
You felt your heart flutter at the desperation in his voice. You reached out and cupped his cheek, leaning closer. “I do,” you said, your voice steady, yet filled with longing. “I’ve wanted this for so long. I want both of you.”
Mingi’s face softened, the tension easing from his body as he let out a deep, relieved breath. “I’ve wanted this for damn long…,” he repeated, his voice raw with need.
Yunho leaned back slightly, his eyes tracing the curve of your body before returning to Mingi. “You’ve been waiting forever, huh?” he teased, the playful edge in his voice not hiding the hunger in his gaze. “Seems like it’s time we make this happen then.”
Without another word, Yunho’s hands slid under your arms, pulling you into his lap with a smooth, practiced motion. His grip on your hips was firm as he steadied you against him. “You’re shaking,” he murmured, his tone softer than before but still filled with something deeper. “Relax, sweetheart.”
Behind you, Mingi’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer, his touch needy and urgent. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his lips brushing your neck as his hands slid lower. “How long I’ve wanted to make you ours.”
Yunho chuckled softly, his voice low and teasing as he pressed his lips to your temple. “She knows now,” he said, though the underlying hunger in his tone made it clear that he wasn’t backing down.
“She’s ours now,” Mingi growled, his fingers gripping your hips possessively.
Yunho’s fingers tightened on your hips as his gaze turned darker, more focused. “Ours, huh?” he muttered, the teasing gone from his voice now. “Then let’s see if she can handle both of us.”
Yunho, the ever composed one even if he drank as much as Mingi, lifted you up slowly and lowered you even slower on his cock, letting you adjust to his huge size. Mingi did the same but more urgently, he got closer to you, his hands roaming on your body as they settled on your waist and lowered your ass on his cock. You moaned softly at the sensation of being so stretched out, arching your back against Mingi.
“Damn she's taking us good…” Yunho groaned, starting to thrust up and down slowly. Mingi did the same, trying to be in sync with Yunho as he buried his face in the nape of your neck, his vocal self never faltering as he whined and groaned out with every thrust of his. Your hands were straddling Yunho's shoulders, steadying yourself while bouncing up and down on both men. It felt so good, so full and so hot.. to be fucked by both. The alcohol in your bloodstream only made it even better. You were not drunk, no… tipsy? Yes. But it only made it better.. the fact that your words were loosened and actions bolder meant everything to you as you've been trying to make a move on them since forever.
Though, Mingi… felt exactly the same. Only that he was gone for, needy and practically begging for you to move more above him.
“P-please, y/n..” he whined in your ear, turning you in even more.
Yunho looked at Mingi and giggled, his words eliciting, “just do whatever, she's all in for it.. just look at her, taking us so damn good. Tell me sweetie, do you want us to fill you both? Hm?” he said as one of his hands rode up your body and stopped on your breast, playing with your nipple.
“Ah, Y-yunho!” you whimpered out when he pinched it.
“Say it, sweetie. I need to know..”
“Y-yes… for fucks sake, please..” you pleaded, both men pounding into you more fiercely when hearing your words.
“Mhm, that's more like it…” and his thrusts started getting deeper, sloppier and wilder.
Both men's hands gripped your waist and thighs down, pushing you on their cocks only to make you take them deeper.
Within a few thrust Mingi couldn't help himself anymore and came, filling you up with his huge load of cum. He's followed by you, your inner walls clenching harshly on Yunho's cock, soft cries and moans escaping your rapidly rising chest.
His eyes widened in surprise and he came, basically being rushed to by your needy cunt. He fucked you thru your and his orgasm as Mingi had done the same and they slowly rode their highs, slowing down and eventually lifting you up and laying you on the ruined bedsheets.
“Wow… that was..” Yunho started, but you continued.
“Fucking hot.” you chuckled out, your legs trembling and head dizzy from all the action. Both men laid on each of your side and caught their breaths.
“We shoulda done this sooner.. I never thought it woulda been this amazing.” Mingi said, his words slurred.
“Well.. That was a damn Happy New Year for me.. for us” you said and the two men laughed softly, embracing you in a warm hug.
NETWORKS:
@blossomnet
@illusionnet
PERMANENT TAGLIST:
@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz
#ateez fanfic#illusionnet#blossomnet#ateez x reader#mingi s dimples masterlist#ateez fic#ateez x y/n#fanfic#ateez#smut fic#ateez smut#smut#yunho x you#ateez yunho#yunho x reader#yunho smut#mingi x reader#mingi smut#ateez smut mingi#yungi x reader#yungi fic#yungi smut
343 notes
·
View notes
Text
listen
summary: you’ve been serving frankie and his friends at your bar for months. despite your wishing and wanting, the shy pilot doesn’t work up the nerve to ask you out before santi introduces you to his buddy, joel.
swept off your feet by the sweet southerner, and charmed by pope, the boys come together to show frankie exactly what it is he’s missing.
read part 2, watch, here
grouping: f!reader x joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia
rating/warnings: 18+. MDNI. no outbreak (tlou) - but based after the tf mission. softdom!joel, softdom!santi, sub!frankie, sub!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, maybe MFM?, sharing the luuuurve, praise kink, one (1) count of spitting in mouth, dirty talk, daddy kink (heavy, sorry lmao), oral (f&m receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it!), creampie, come eating, pussyjob?, so many orgasms i started to lose count, maybe a tiny bit of angst, m!masturbation, light choking, f!overstim, bad spanish, right okay we’re done.
wc: 14.7k. we aren't gonna talk about it.
an: this is fucking filthy. i’m sorry. don’t ask.
When you first started to hang out with them all, Will told you that Frankie was useless with women. What you didn’t expect was for him to be this fucking oblivious.
You had been bartending when you met him at a bar downtown - all industrial steel, burnished mirrors, and low light. Frankie and the boys would come in every so often, and you warmed to them immediately. It was hard not to. The four men were always respectful, always polite. They never overstayed their welcome, or their tolerance, and always asked how you were.
Of course, it helped that they were also handsome, and you quickly fell into the trap you were sure they wove for all hospitality staff. The lingering glances from their table, the crooked smiles at the bar. The competition they seemed to enjoy amongst themselves of who could lather you with the most attention.
Will and Benny did particularly well. The elder brother saved a special, particularly mischievous smile and a wink for you every time he came to order, and saved a special, bruising elbow to the ribs for his brother every time he caught Benny staring. Benny was always a hoot considering his sore ribs, the air never seeming to have been knocked from him as he chatted away to you across the polished wood.
But it was the quieter two, Frankie and Santi, who piqued your curiosity. Santi - often cool, detached; who offered little information in the way of his life but seemed to want to be wrapped up in yours. Who would watch you over the rim of his glass of whisky, drop his eyes to your lips, dip his mouth in a smirk, and say he’d see you later. And Frankie, who could do almost nothing but watch you from his corner of their booth, his Standard Oil cap sunk low on his brow, both hands around his bottle. His deep swallow when you’d catch his eye. The blush that would crawl up his neck, threading through his cheeks when you smiled.
Over the months they came to the bar while you worked there, the five of you became friends of sorts. Once in a blue moon turned into once every two weeks, turned into every Saturday night. And you made sure you were always there, sacrificing the time you would have spent surfing social media on your sofa for time spent flirting with your favourite regulars. Enjoying their eyes on you. Enjoying Frankie’s blush when you called him sugar as you asked if he needed anything else.
One day, you hoped he’d gather enough courage to give you the answer you hoped for.
You.
But he never did.
When the time came for you to move on from the bar, you made sure to let them know. Your new job further into the city was a step exactly in the direction you wanted to go, and though the men shared touching groans of disappointment, they congratulated you wholeheartedly.
They also invited you to their Saturday night drinks. You gladly accepted.
On your last shift, Will slid you Frankie’s mobile number, explaining that he was the most reliable member, the one most likely to know what was going on with the group at any given time. When you ribbed him about how he must always be on his phone, Frankie shyly admitted it was because he had a daughter. He was constantly on the lookout for updates, sweet little pictures and messages his ex would send over. They had a good relationship, and his kid - Lucia - was gorgeous. They just live a little far away, Frankie had admitted, a sad little frown glazing over his features.
You had softened to him even more, asking him questions about his daughter over the bar while you poured his drinks, propping your chin in your hand and listening to him as he continued to talk after you were finished. You found yourself trying to make Frankie laugh, to hear his sweet chuckle, to brush a touch against his arm, see the sparkle in his eyes beneath his cap - similar, you imagined, to how your own eyes glittered back at him.
The conversation only stalled when Benny called for him - Fish, where are those drinks? - earning himself a thump from Will, who muttered something about Frankie finally finding the courage and Benny’s big fuckin’ mouth. Frankie’s cheeks had heated, and he'd cleared his throat, thanking you before gathering all the drinks in his large hands and heading back to the booth.
What you had overheard heated the tips of your ears and rattled around your brain, looming in the back of your mind when you joined them the Saturday after.
But Will's words must have just been a silly little joke, because no matter how hard you try, Frankie will not bend. No matter what you wear, no matter what you do, the curly haired pilot remains firmly out of reach.
And it’s not like you don’t have fun together. You join them on nights out. You’ve been invited over for poker games and parties. You share glances with Frankie, jokes, tales, hell, sometimes he even puts an arm around you. But it’s always the same. The end of the evening is always frustratingly uneventful.
Crowded into sweaty bars and packed living rooms, you’re caught in a never ending circle of wanting and longing. Maybe that’s why, one night, you find yourself exchanging heated glances with Santi.
Frankie never really touches you beyond a hug and a kiss on the cheek when you arrive, and remains a staunch gentleman no matter how much he drinks. Santi seems to strive to do the opposite. He finds you in the kitchen one night, trying to cool off after watching Frankie laugh and lean into another woman’s conversation, feeling foolish, immature, but trying to blink away tears anyway.
He talks to you like you’re the only interesting person he’s ever met, standing a little too close for a friend, only moving away when you’re interrupted by one of Benny’s buddies searching for a beer. When you return to the living room, Frankie notices. Notices how Santi pulls you in close when you’re near, presses a kiss to your hair, places a casual hand on your knee when you’re sat next to each other. And how you let him do it.
When Santi drops you off at your house, he looks at your lips for a long time. His eyes are burning as he tucks your hair behind your ear and wishes you a good night. But he doesn’t go further.
It’s driving you fucking insane.
You were sure you hadn’t imagined the chemistry between the three of you before, so what was wrong now? Whose starting pistol were they waiting for? You can’t help your desperate huffs of frustration every time you close the door at the end of another night - alone, sopping wet, with only your hand to help.
Until one night, when you really believe, truly believe that it might end differently.
Frankie has been sat next to you in the booth all evening, laughing and chatting away. His arm is slung over your shoulder, his thigh against yours, your body pressed into his side. It feels good, it feels right, and he’s looking at you in such a way that you begin to teeter dangerously close to pressing your lips to his in the middle of the bar.
You and Frankie take the opportunity to talk about anything and everything. Catching up on your jobs, how he’s re-received his licence, your families, future dreams and aspirations. It’s almost funny how perfectly everything seems to realign. You think this is the turning point - this is when you realise how perfect you are for each other, this is when you take the leap. The only hiccup seems to be when Frankie says he’ll be away for the next three weeks - working, and then visiting Lucia. Your heart crumbles a little - just a little - before you try to sweep away thoughts of him dying in a helicopter crash or falling back in love with his ex. It feels like you’ve waited so long for this moment that the universe might just try and be that cruel. Just for shits and giggles.
But it won’t. Everything’s fine. Everything’s great.
Santi seems to notice. He’s quieter than usual, watching the two of you cosy up together. He looks pleased, if a little put out, and when he thinks you aren’t looking he exchanges a look with Frankie. A raised eyebrow, a dipped head. A fucking finally.
As you move to leave the bar at closing time, Frankie touches your arm.
‘Mind if I walk you home, querida?’ He asks, holding out your coat. You take it and swoop it on over your shoulders, grinning at him.
‘Thought you’d never ask.’ You say.
Frankie walks you home like a gentleman.
Too much of a gentleman.
You bump shoulders every so often, but he doesn’t move to take your hand. And he’s all bashful smiles and throaty laughter, compliments and flirty asides, but you return them tenfold, wrapped up in a blinding smile.
You’re making it easy for him. Obvious. But he still isn’t taking the bait.
Maybe he doesn’t want you.
It’s an uncomfortable thought, but it bounces around your skull the whole way home. And it rumbles even louder when you get to your door and he pulls you in for a hug, a light hand barely lingering on your waist, before he wishes you goodnight.
You stand there, a little dazed before your brain catches up and decides to deploy your last ditch attempt. Just to see. Just to find out.
He’s halfway down your front path when you call out to him.
‘Frankie. Do you want to come in?’
He turns, limbs coming to a clumsy halt. His brows are high on his forehead, mouth a little ‘o’. Then he frowns.
Fuck. You’ve never felt like such an idiot in your life.
‘I - er,’ he starts, and you look down at the floor, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the concrete. ‘I have an early start tomorrow.’ He says.
You look back up at him.
‘Sorry,’ he continues, ‘Any other time and I’d be - I’d be right there. Y’know. Just - timing, that’s all.’
You try to soften the bite that wants to creep into your words at his rejection, but barely manage it.
‘It’s cool,’ you say, trying to smile. ‘No worries. I just - I bought that film you said you watched the other day. Paddington 2? The one Lucia likes.’ A slow smile lights his eyes. ‘Just wondered whether you wanted to come in and watch it with a beer. But yeah. No worries,’ and then, because you just can’t help yourself, you add - ‘Wouldn’t have been any funny business, just so ya know.’
You force out a laugh, and Frankie drops his eyes. Disappointed, confused. You feel bad for a second, but then you remember how embarrassed you feel, how stupid. It makes your skin crawl. Nevermind.
You clear your throat.
‘Anyway. Get home safe, Frankie,’ you say, ‘See you soon.’
You rush in and close the door before he can reply.
---
Your phone buzzes with a text early the next day.
You open your eyes with a groan, clutching unseeingly at trinkets on your nightstand until your stomach lurches at the thought that it might be Frankie. You sit up to grab it.
It’s not Frankie. It’s an unknown number.
Hey. Do u want to head to the bar 2night?
You frown, confused, fingers dancing over possible replies before another text flies through.
Got a friend Id like u to meet.
And then another.
Its Santi btw. Cant remember if u have my no.
You breathe out, type a quick sure. Fuck it. What harm could another of Santi’s friends do to your pride? Your sex drive? What harm could a night with Santi do? You follow it up with -
Who else will be there? Are you setting me up?
You chew on your thumb anxiously, waiting for his reply.
Just the 3 of us. Might be ;)
You snort at his reply, shooting back -
God. Am I really such a charity case?
- before getting out of bed to make breakfast. Halfway through your pancakes, you get a text back.
Nah. Just cant stand seein a good girl like u go to waste.
You put your phone back down on the table, slowing your chewing. Good girl. The two words send a lick of heat curling up your spine. A good girl like you going to waste.
A slow, smug smile spreads across your lips. You pick up your phone again and begin to tap out a reply. A risky move, one which would surely harm your chances with Frankie, but fuck it -
If you don’t want me to go to waste, you could always have me to yourself.
You stare at the blinking cursor for a second before deleting the message, instead asking him for a time. No need to be hasty.
You don’t know what his friend looks like yet, anyway.
As it turns out, Santi’s friend might be exactly who you need to forget about Frankie.
Joel Miller is older, in his fifties. Greying, tall, broad, gorgeous, and a true southern gentleman to boot. The kind of guy - you imagine - who would drive you to work the next day if you couldn’t walk after seeing him the night before.
And it’s going well. Really well.
You, Joel, and Santi chat easily around your little table, swapping jokes, telling stories, brushing touches to each other here and there. Joel works in construction - runs his own company with his brother, Tommy - and has a grown up daughter called Sarah. He’s worked on Santi’s house - actually knows most of the group - but is usually too busy (or too tired, he tells you) to come out and join them. You think about how unlucky it is that he hadn’t come around before you made such a fool of yourself last night. And then you vow not to think of Frankie again for the rest of the evening.
Joel is easy to be around - warm, safe - earthy and masculine. And maybe it’s something to do with the way his chocolate brown eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles, but you don’t know what’s wrong with you. You can’t seem to stop thinking about what it would be like to run your fingers through his curls, feel the scrape of his stubble between your thighs, what his arms look like beneath his flannel, what his fingers - what his cock - would feel like inside of you. Something about the man is making your toes curl in your seat, and he hasn’t done anything more innocuous than thumb the charm hanging from your necklace. It’s agonising.
And to make it worse, Santi knows. You don’t know how, but he does. Maybe you’re just that easy to read.
In the blur of Joel leaving to go to the bathroom and get more drinks, Santi leans over to you.
‘What do you think?’ He asks.
You shrug, trying your absolute hardest to play it cool.
‘He’s nice. I like him. You should bring him out more often.’
Santi’s eyes glint with something molten, something teasing and knowing and sharp.
‘You want to take him home.’
You baulk at his words, cheeks flaming in response. You open and close your mouth as he leans in and laughs.
‘I never said that -’ you splutter, but Santi takes your hand.
‘You don’t need to, querida,’ he says, ‘I can see it written all over your face.’
You groan, forehead falling to his shoulder.
‘If it helps,’ he continues, ‘I think he wants to take you home, too.’
You look up from his shoulder into his eyes, and they glimmer back at you. You bite your lip.
‘Ya think?’ You ask.
‘Yeah, baby,’ he teases, ‘I do.’
You hum against him before tilting your face further back.
‘You know…’ you say, lips loosened by the alcohol. Santi tips his head to the side, waiting for you to continue. ‘'S not quite how I imagined the night would end.’
His lips quirk in a smile again. Ah, fuck.
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah. I kinda thought you’d take me home instead.’
Santi chuckles and looks away around the room. When his eyes settle back on you, they’re black and burning.
‘I’ve thought about it,’ he says, scratching his beard, ‘A lot. But I guessed you were too caught up on Frankie.’
You freeze at his words and sit up straight, clearing your throat.
‘I don’t -’ but Santi shakes his head at you, cutting you off. He says your name softly.
‘I know about last night,’ he says quietly. Your cheeks begin to burn again, but this time for a completely different reason. ‘He told me about it after he walked you home. And I told him he was the biggest fuckin’ idiot I know.’
Despite yourself, you smile.
‘I’m not gonna take you home, baby,’ Santi continues as you watch him, curious, ‘Not right now, anyway. My shit is complicated enough -’ Santi cuts himself off with a sigh, and your brows bunch together.
‘What’s wrong?’ you ask, your voice low and kind despite the fire sparking at his words.
Santi looks at you again, and whatever’s in his eyes looks too complex to divulge. He thumbs your knuckles, swirling patterns onto your hand.
‘Nothing,’ he says, but you frown at him again. ‘Just… stuff. Stuff to do with Frankie. It’s - complicated. I’ll tell you about it some other time. But what I wanted to say was - I wanted you to meet Joel. Because I think you’d be great for each other.’
Your jaw drops again, but before you can ask any questions, anything about his stuff with Frankie, Joel reappears with new drinks for the three of you. Santi gives you a tight-lipped smile, squeezing your hand before picking up his bottle. But you drop his gaze when Joel places a hand at the top of your back as he sits down.
‘Everything okay, baby?’ He asks.
Santi doesn’t leave early, but he doesn’t leave late, either. He stays long enough to know exactly where this thing with you and Joel is going, and then bails when he knows he should. Even if you still kinda wish he’d stay.
Even if you didn’t get the chance to ask him more about Frankie.
You and Joel linger for an hour longer, the ache in your core and the wetness in your underwear in response to him now almost impossible to ignore. Joel keeps a hand on your thigh. He sweeps a palm down your arm, tucks your hair behind your ear. And when the bell for closing rings out, he takes your hand and leads you out into the night.
He keeps a hold of your hand the whole way to your door.
When you get home, you turn to him on your doorstep. He smiles at you, taking you in through his eyelashes. A muscle ticks in his jaw.
You grip your keys tightly in your fist, the metal leaving marks and almost drawing blood as he leans in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You forget to breathe as his scent crowds your senses, as the scruff of his beard scratches your cheek. You want to lick his neck, find out if he tastes as good as he smells, want to know what it feels like to have him pressed against you, on top of you, under you, behind you -
Joel cuts through your thoughts with a low chuckle against your ear.
‘Breathe, darlin’.’ He murmurs.
You open your eyes, take a deep breath, and sigh a laugh as you look down at your feet.
He is still unbearably close, and you know, you know you shouldn’t, but you don’t know if you’ll ever see this man again, and everything Santi said at the bar, and the fact that you feel like Joel could make you come with just a flick of his wrist is likely what sparks your tongue to stutter out -
‘Do you want to come in?’
Joel looks down at you again, a fire alight in his eyes. The heat sends a shiver down your spine.
He doesn’t give you an answer. Just pushes your front door open, takes your wrist, and pulls you inside.
---
Being with Joel is great.
It’s amazing. It’s like you finally have someone who can keep up with you. Your brain, your days, your plans. It’s like someone plopped Joel Miller on earth with a little note saying he was yours.
In the three weeks after you first meet him, you share countless breakfasts and dinners and spend your weekends wrapped up in sheets watching reruns of Golden Girls. It’s so simple to spend time with someone who is so easy to be around, someone who just gets you.
Joel makes you laugh, makes you feel important, wanted.
And the sex is incredible.
Like nothing you’ve ever had with anyone else. He seems to know what to do, exactly how you want it done, every time - it’s effortless. And somehow, you seem to do the same for him. In fact, the only problems you seem to have found are his size (because he’s huge) and the fact that you can’t be inside each other all the time.
Which is why it takes so much effort for you to peel yourself away from him when Santi asks if you’d like to join him and the guys for drinks on Saturday. You give him an affirmative before promptly being distracted by Joel coming out of the shower.
You see his reply forty minutes later.
Frankie will b there. That OK?
You type back a quick -
Of course :)
- before getting on with your day.
Drinks are almost the same as usual. It’s surprisingly easy to slot right back into where you were. Laughing, chatting, joking with Will and Benny. What they’ve been up to, who they’ve been with. Questions you manage to dodge with only a knowing smirk from Santi to remind you he knows exactly who you’ve been doing.
Frankie joins in from across the table. He couldn’t meet your eye when you first arrived, but over the course of the evening and a few drinks, he seems to have relaxed enough to look at you. Really look at you.
Which is unfortunate, because you can still feel Joel’s come from earlier in the day seeping into your underwear.
At some point in the evening, Benny and Will make their excuses - they have a family get together tomorrow they can’t be too hungover for - and it’s just you, Frankie, and Santi left.
It’s easy for the most part. Santi bridging the gap so effortlessly that it begins to feel like nothing happened between you and Frankie at all. And it didn’t, you remind yourself. Nothing happened. And then you met Joel.
So why are you still thinking about it?
You try to distract yourself, lose yourself in the conversation taking place between the two men. Something about Star Wars, new castings they’ve chosen for a series coming out later in the year. You try to contribute as much as you can, but fail miserably, earning yourself a brief history of the franchise from Santi. Eventually you get him to ease off with a hand to his chest, laughing until he starts to giggle, too. He uses the interlude to get up to use the bathroom and get more drinks, leaving you with Frankie and his soft, brown eyes.
You peer at each other nervously from across the table. You watch as his tongue darts out to wet his lip, as he chews the inside of his cheek before taking a deep breath and meeting your eye.
You feel your jaw clench.
‘About the other night, a few weeks back,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was a fuckin’ moron -’ he pauses for a moment, sweeps a hand over his face. ‘I’m real rusty at this. The whole dating thing. I don’t think I even realised what it was you were sayin’ to me.’ Frankie huffs a laugh. A horrible, anxious feeling starts to work its way up your throat. ‘But I -’
He’s interrupted as a bartender floats by your booth, sweeping up some of the empty glasses. You smile up at her and thank her sweetly.
Maybe you can stall whatever Frankie has to say.
She swats at the air with her free hand.
‘Not at all, sugar,’ she says, ‘Can’t let a thing like empties get in the way of a date like this.’
You smile at her and bite your tongue, feeling hot. A blush begins to claw up your cheeks as she winks at you both and swings away. Had she not seen Santi? And - fuck - now how do you brush this off with Frankie? How do you stop where this is going?
You turn your eyes back to him, and he hasn’t even flushed at the insinuation. Instead, he bites his lip, something which sends a jolt of heat to the space between your thighs. He scratches the back of his neck, and rushes out in a lowered voice that even though he’s busy with work at the moment, he’d like to make it right -
‘I’d really love to take you out this weekend.’
Your stomach plummets to your feet. Fuck.
Tears of frustration prickle in your eyes. A lump of panic settles in your throat, and you almost feel like you could run out of the bar. Why is he doing this now?
You take a deep breath and try to form the kindest smile, the most apologetic furrow in your brows that you can.
‘Frankie,’ you breathe, and already his face begins to fall. You lean across the table and take one of his massive hands. ‘I’d have loved to, but -’
He shakes his head quickly, trying to draw his hand back.
‘It’s okay,’ he begins, ‘Fuck, I’m sorry. I must have just misread - I didn’t mean - I don’t want you to feel -’
But his interruption only serves to further spark the surge of irritation. You squeeze his hand tighter so he can’t rip it away and utter his name harshly. He stops immediately, his eyes whipping back to yours. Something stirs in you at his immediate obedience.
‘Listen to me,’ you say, shaking off your traitorous thoughts. ‘I’d have loved to. But I - I literally just started seeing someone, and I -’ you break off, groaning in frustration, ‘I don’t know if it’s serious, or if it’s exclusive, but he’s great, and I don’t want anyone - especially you - to get hurt by me being selfish or not knowing where things are at.’ You huff out a breath and meet his eye. He looks disappointed, upset even - but worst of all he looks understanding, almost grateful that you don’t want him to get caught up in this complex knot of wanting.
‘Frankie,’ you say softly, and try to smile, ‘I mean this in the least… damaging way. If you had asked me three weeks ago, when we were here last, I’d have said yes. In a heartbeat.’
Maybe it does make you an asshole. Maybe it does make you selfish. But it feels important in this moment to make sure that Frankie understands - you like him. You wanted him.
It’s just timing.
Frankie grimaces.
‘Fuck.’ He hisses. And when he tries to withdraw his hand this time, you let him. But you don’t look away.
A low light flickers in his eye. Something close to anger, you think - at himself, or at you, you’re not sure.
‘Is it -’ he begins, ‘Is it Pope?’
‘Pope?’ You ask, confused. Frankie shakes his head.
‘Santi. Is it Santi?’
You bark a laugh. You can’t help it.
‘Santi? Your Santi?’ you ask, bewildered. Frankie’s cheeks heat again. You want to put a pin in that, the flush at your, but your brain is suddenly so riddled with dredged up questions you can hardly order them.
‘What do you mean, Frankie?’ you ask, exasperated.
Frankie shakes his head again, realising his mistake, but you are beyond dropping the topic.
‘Frankie,’ you say, stern this time. ‘What do you mean?’
Frankie whips his cap off, runs an agitated hand through his hair, shifts his gaze around the bar for the other man.
‘He - he likes you, too,’ he says. ‘I was worried - worried he’d beat me to it ‘cos I didn’t ask before I went away. He said it was taking me too long to do - to gather the confidence to ask you -’ Now Frankie barks a laugh. ‘But it looks like we were both too late.’
You shake your head, the cogs in your brain turning slowly. How Santi looked at you was no secret. But if what Frankie was saying about how Santi felt was true, why had he introduced you to Joel? And if that was true, had you misunderstood what Santi said about him and Frankie? You feel your mouth open and close, but Frankie takes your silence to ask you another question.
‘Who is it?’
‘What?’
‘Who is it?’
You splutter over your answer, hesitating, stalling -
‘Frankie, how the fuck would you know?’
Because he would. And, rightly or wrongly, that panics you a little.
‘Is it someo-’
You cut him off, holding up your palm.
‘Frankie -’ you press a hand to your throat, feeling your rapid pulse. Fuck it. ‘I thought - I thought Santi was interested in you.’
Frankie chokes on his breath.
He stares at you, calculating something, breathing heavily.
‘It’s not - we’re not -’ he fumbles. You slouch back in your seat. Frankie’s eyes flutter closed. ‘We fuck around sometimes. And sometimes - sometimes other people -’ You groan, your head tipping back against the leather. Your head is spinning. ‘But we wouldn’t - I wouldn’t - fuck. I don’t want you to think that that’s what this is about -’ Frankie splays his hands in front of you. ‘God,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to explain any of this.’
The room suddenly feels too warm. You cradle your head in your hands, and stare at the way the table swims beneath you. What the fuck is happening?
You glance up at Frankie, but he’s watching you so intensely, so much concern and panic and want in his eyes that it makes you feel claustrophobic.
‘I need some air.’ You mumble across the table, and stumble out of the booth on unsteady legs. From the corner of your eye, you see Santi begin to cross the floor to return to the booth with drinks in his hands, see him watch you trip across the bar. In the back of your brain, you hear him call your name, but your hands are already on the handle of the front door, pushing it open and feeling the cool night air hit your clammy skin.
What the fuck is going on?
You fumble in your pocket for your phone and find Joel’s contact. You want to go home, and you want his help to forget about this. And, you think, you should probably ask whether he had any idea about Santi, or Frankie, or Santi and Frankie.
The call with Joel is quick, and he sounds appropriately concerned without needing to hear any details. He tells you to stay in view of the bar and to not move a muscle, and that he’ll be there in 10. You hope he can make it in five.
He’s too slow. After seven minutes, Frankie bursts out of the bar, Santi quickly following him.
‘Fish -’ Santi’s calling, but he catches himself when he sees you still standing there. Frankie screeches to a halt, too.
The three of you stare between each other, eyes wide, like you’re waiting for a bomb to go off.
Frankie says your name before you shake your head - rushing out a not now, Frankie just as Joel’s pickup peels into the parking lot.
Frankie can’t see him with his back turned, but he sure does when Joel comes striding from behind the two men to stand at your side.
‘Everything okay, baby?’ he asks in his low, southern drawl, and you instinctively lift your mouth for a kiss before realising how cruel that would be.
Joel tenses as you withdraw, finally taking in the other two men.
‘Pope,’ he says with a nod, and Santi smiles weakly back at him.
‘Frankie,’ Joel says a little softer, ‘It’s good to see you.’
‘Joel.’ Frankie says through his teeth, realisation burning in his eyes.
‘How ya doin’, kid?’ Joel asks him, placing a hand on your lower back. Frankie juts out his chin.
‘Fine. Great.’ He says, ‘I was just leavin’, actually.’ Frankie whips his cap off, runs a hand through his hair. His jaw is set, angry. He shakes his head at the ground. ‘I’ll see you guys around.’ He says to no one in particular, turning on his heel and fleeing towards the car park.
Santi and Joel meet each others’ eyes in some kind of understanding, and you look angrily between them. Being left out of the loop again was not feeling cute.
Joel sighs, wrapping his arm around your waist.
‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.’ He murmurs, but you lurch out of his grasp and turn on the two of them. They watch you, surprised.
‘No,’ you say, ‘Nu-uh. We aren’t going anywhere until one of you tells me what the fuck is going on.’
Joel and Santi look at each other, expressions unreadable.
Santi shakes his head.
‘Come back inside,’ he says, turning back to the bar entrance, ‘We’re gonna need more beers for this.’
---
When you get down to the root of it, the truth isn’t even that complex. That’s the laughable part.
The long and short of it is this. One: Pope knew Frankie liked you. But he knew Frankie moved slow. And he’d gotten tired of watching, of knowing he’d be a dick if he made a play instead. And he cares about you, his friend. Wants to see you happy. Enter Joel. Two: Santi and Frankie fooled around while they were in Delta Force. It’s not a secret, but it’s never really been discussed. Sometimes they still fool around, but it’s been less frequent as they’ve gotten older. As they date other people. Three: Sometimes, when those other people they’re dating are willing, they bring them in, and they all have fun together.
Something Santi would have been fine with if you were his. Something Frankie was less cool with doing if he’d made his move.
Santi admits that he’s likely just been a dick throughout the whole thing. You make him promise to do better over another beer. He does. He also now knows not to cock block his best buddy with a mutual friend.
And Joel feels kinda bad about that. Not bad enough to pump the brakes with you, but uncomfortable, sure. He’s had Frankie round for barbecues, he likes the guy. He’s sorry he whisked you away from him. But not sorry enough.
Joel hasn’t been involved in any of Frankie and Santi’s adventures, but it’s something he’s played around with before. He’s had threesomes, but he doesn’t really volunteer more than that. The thought ignites something deep in your belly and you file it away for another day, a different conversation.
Once it’s all explained and you’re laughing together again, everything feels fine. Normal.
Except you don’t see Frankie for weeks afterwards.
You drop him a text every now and again, just wanting to know whether he’s okay, but you hear nothing back. Santi tries to assure you that you’ve done nothing wrong. There’s nothing for you to worry about.
But it still sits uneasy in your gut.
You see Joel almost every day. And Santi once a week.
The three of you meet for beers in a different bar from the one Santi meets Frankie, Will and Benny in - your bar. And you have fun.
It never goes beyond touches with Santi, though you find yourself wishing more and more often that it would. He rests a hand on your thigh under the table, his thumb swiping patterns over your flushed skin. Sometimes he has an arm flung around the back of your seat, sometimes rubbing the back of your neck, sometimes tucking hair behind your ear. He watches and stares and smiles and laughs at you and Joel, and you watch back with delighted curiosity. You like the way he makes you squirm while you sit next to the older man. And Joel loves to watch you squirm, too.
He loves getting you home and finding your panties soaked with arousal. He loves swiping two of his thick fingers through your folds with the front door barely closed, his hand shoved down the front of your jeans, your back arched already, a needy whine heavy in the back of your throat. He loves talking you through the things he’d like to watch Santi do to you, how good he knows you’d be for the two of them, how well behaved, how you’d take, take, take it, and how proud he’d be to show you off. My girl. He growls as he fucks into you at night. My girl.
And it suits you, how giving, how generous Joel is.
Seems to suit Santi, too.
At some point ideas had been swapped between you and Joel - some thinly disguised remark dropped by him over dinner one night had led to you picking at the thread and grinding him down over three days, trying to get to the bottom of it. He liked to share, he’d said. He liked to watch. He liked the control, and the pride, and the possession of it all. And goddammit, you liked the sound of it, too. Because after serious discussion - serious boundaries, limits, run throughs of possible scenarios, you talked through people who you wouldn’t mind trying it with.
And there was obvious one name you both settled on.
Santi.
And well, given his history, it didn’t take too long for you to convince him to join you.
And if it hadn't been for Santi’s suggestion, his knowledge, his understanding of his best friend, there’s a chance Frankie’s name wouldn’t have come up at all. You’re not sure if you’d have dared, considering how things were left. But, lo and behold, it does, and along with it the chance for him to see exactly what he's missing out on.
---
All the rules have been arranged for tonight, but the most important one, which you must remember, is that Frankie is not allowed to touch you.
At all. At any point.
You and Joel head to the usual bar to meet Santi and Frankie for drinks. You make sure to wear a dress which clings to your curves, dips at your cleavage, and settles just high enough on your thigh to be bordering on acceptable. And it must be more than acceptable, because Joel threatens to fuck you out of it three times before you leave the house.
It must be acceptable, because Santi cannot keep his eyes or his hands off you when you arrive at the venue, and Frankie from across the table cannot regain control of his jaw.
They both look good - you all look good - Joel with his hair combed back, a deep green flannel on, Santi in all black - and suddenly all you want to do is call the drinks off now and just head back to Joel’s. But the patience, the build up is critical. It’s foreplay.
Instead, you lean back in your chair, sipping on your cocktail as you take in the three men.
The conversation flows easily after a while. Joel is a master at it, weaving questions in and out, making sure to put both you and Frankie at ease. Besides, it’s been a while since you last saw each other. Not that either of you were any less eager for him to be involved. He’d been very keen, according to Santi.
He’s in dark jeans and a tight navy blue t-shirt tonight, his trademark cap confining his curls. He’s not dressed up, but he’s made an effort, and his shy looks across the table, his kind questions and easy jokes have begun healing the fractures of what happened weeks ago.
It doesn’t hurt that he and Santi had a good, long talk, and that you then shared a sweet phone call.
All the same, he sits opposite you, unable to touch you for the rest of the night.
Instead, he just gets to watch as Joel presses kisses to your neck, pulls you into his chest, skates his hands over your thighs - anything he can get away with doing to turn you on. And Santi isn’t far behind. Holding your hand on top of the table, bringing your knuckles to his lips, keeping a hand on your knee almost the entire time.
Your brain is a hot, buzzing mess by the time Santi checks his phone.
‘It’s getting late.’ He says, and you raise an eyebrow at him.
‘Eager, no?’ You tease, trying - and failing - to cover the scent of your own desperate need.
‘Of course,’ Santi smirks over the rim of his glass, ‘But I’ll take my time with you.’
You try to laugh but fall back into Joel’s shoulder at his words, and the older man chuckles. He kisses your forehead tenderly. Frankie watches hungrily from across the table, the dark void of his eyes flicking towards his watch, desperate to leave.
When you do, he walks at a distance behind the three of you. You smile to yourself and sway your hips a little more for his benefit. And you swear you get a low whine as your reward.
---
You’re quiet the whole way home, trying not to clench your thighs too hard or rock yourself against the seat. You're so desperate for friction, for relief, that it’s hard for you to concentrate on what’s going on in the car. Hard for you to think of anything beyond Joel’s warm, heavy hand on your thigh as he drives.
He leans over to you halfway home, and whispers -
‘You’re quiet, baby. Everything okay?’
You flick a glance to him and find his eyes equal parts concerned and equal parts aflame. You smile.
‘I’m trying to be good,’ you murmur, ‘But you’re making it very difficult.’
Joel dips his chin in a smirk and squeezes your thigh, his fingers drifting dangerously close to your panties. You squirm a little in your seat, and it goads him to drift his hand further until it catches at the lace of the gusset. You gasp at the feeling, a tiny whimper making its way out from your lips, and all conversation in the back of the truck grinds to a halt. Your cheeks heat, and you turn to look out the window again, clamping your lip beneath your teeth.
No one says a word the rest of the way home.
Once you're all home, a silence settles around you. Everybody wide eyed, geared up, on edge. You’re not sure who to look at or what to say until Joel does it for you.
‘Upstairs.’ He commands, and everybody moves to follow him up the staircase. You keep your eyes on his broad back the whole way up, and once you reach the top, he holds his hand out behind him for you to grab. You do.
When you get to his bedroom door, Joel leads you in. You turn just as Santi crosses the threshold, as he pivots to Frankie behind him and says -
‘Kneel.’
Frankie glances at you, swallows, and returns his eyes to Santi. He drops down to his knees in the hallway.
‘Good,’ Santi murmurs, stepping forward to crouch down in front of him. ‘Do you remember the rules?’ He asks Frankie.
The younger man nods, his eyes dropping to the floor.
‘Yes.’
Santi nods once.
‘Good. Listen. And do not leave this spot.’
Santi straightens, turning his back on Frankie. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of him on the floor - small, submissive - and you can’t help the little gasp you let out as Santi steps towards you and closes the door slowly behind him, leaving just enough of a gap so that Frankie can hear everything that happens but watch none of it.
Joel skirts his fingers down your waist and presses a kiss just under your ear.
‘You ready, baby girl?’ he rumbles. You turn your face to look at him over your shoulder, finding his eyes dark, a familiar power behind them. You nod.
‘Yes.’ you say. He nods, pleased, twisting to kiss your mouth before guiding you towards Santi.
‘Good,’ he says. He turns and moves towards the armchair in the far corner of the room, sitting heavily in it.
Santi steps towards you and gently takes your face in his hands.
‘You okay?’ He asks quietly. You nod.
‘Yeah,’ you whisper, ‘Are you?’
Santi nods, his eyes searching yours for a hint of hesitation. You try to open up your mind to show him the excitement, the want you feel. Satisfied, he licks his lips.
‘Can I kiss you?’ He asks. You nod again, and Santi leans forwards, capturing your mouth in hard, slow movement.
Santi means to make a study of you, you think. His tongue is everywhere, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip, his hands gentle and then needy, already figuring out exactly what it is that makes you tick. And to make it even worse, every time you take a moment to catch your breath, he has that fucking smirk on his face. It’s infuriating, and you quickly need to find something which will wipe it off.
So you begin to undo his belt.
Pope huffs a chuckle against your lips, but doesn’t stop the work your hands are doing. Instead, he matches it with his own fingers.
With deft movements, he slips a hand under your dress and finds his way to your panties, touching you through the fabric. You groan against his mouth, and he smiles, ghosting over your folds. Not to be out done, you slip your hand into his jeans and palm him over his boxers. He hums against you.
‘Are we racing?’ He asks.
You cock your head to the side.
‘Thought you wanted to take your time?’ You quip back, and something flashes in his eyes.
He steps back.
‘Take this off.’ He says, tugging at the hem of your dress, and you pout at him.
‘Does that mean you take these off, too?’ You ask, tugging at his jeans. You’re pushing your luck, you know. But you think this might be easier if Santi undresses with you, if only to really see what you held in your hand.
Santi raises an eyebrow. ‘We’ll see,’ he says, ‘But you go first.’
You step back from him and glance at Joel, assessing. He nods at you, encouraging, and you pull your dress up and over your head. You stand before them in only your panties, and Santi takes a deep breath, biting his lip, smiling again.
‘Gorgeous, baby.’ He says. And you feel it. The way this man looks at you makes you feel weak, giddy - like your core is on fire.
Santi steps towards you to kiss you again, making sure his hand returns to where it had been, ghosting over your underwear. You groan into his mouth, impatient now, and his teeth scrape at your chin as he clicks his tongue. In answer, he sweeps your panties to the side, and grazes two digits along your slit. You moan loudly again, and Santi groans up at the ceiling.
‘Fuck, querida.’ He says, before stretching a thumb to your clit and sinking the two fingers deep inside you. You stumble against him as he begins to work you, breathing heavily against his clothed chest. You turn your face so your teeth can nip at his skin underneath.
‘Take - this - off.’ You hiss, and he laughs, slipping his fingers out of you with a groan to oblige. Santi removes his t-shirt quickly and chucks it somewhere across the room before pushing his jeans down and stepping out of them. He hurries to find purchase within your body once more, rocking you against him, curling his fingers deep inside you. His tongue returns to your mouth and you remember his hard cock in his boxers. You reach for it, but he blocks you with his arm. You whine.
‘Tan mojada ya, baby.’ He drawls. Santi removes his fingers from where they were curling inside of you and brings them to your mouth, tapping your lips. You open for him, and he presses them in, allowing you to swirl your tongue over them. You clean off the scent of your heady arousal as Santi watches you. He presses them hard, once, against your tongue, and you open your mouth wide for him.
He retracts his fingers.
‘Good girl,’ he murmurs, and it goes straight to your cunt. You whimper a little, and he grins, stepping back and out of his boxers. ‘Take those off for me.’ He says, motioning at your soaked panties. You almost trip in your eagerness to do so. He retreats backwards until his calves hit the mattress, and he sits down before laying back, getting comfortable.
Santi watches you from the bed, laid out on his back. His lips curl as you rake your eyes over him - hands folded behind his head, his biceps rounding by his ears, his firm, strong torso spattered with dark hair, and his long, hard cock, bobbing and drooling as he takes you in.
‘Come here.’ He says.
You begin a slow walk to the bed, hesitating only for a moment as you crawl onto it and towards him. He licks his lips as you come closer, and you bite your lip back.
You feel unsure without being given specific direction, but you know that Joel will put you right if you step a toe out of line. So you place a knee on either side of Santi’s hips, and sink your heat down onto him as he pulls you forward by the back of your neck, searching for your lips.
You start to move, to adjust to try and let him inside, before Joel’s voice cracks like a whip out of the corner.
‘Either of us tell you you could fuck him yet?’ He growls.
You try to draw your mouth away from Santi to give your response, but he clamps your bottom lip between his teeth so you can go no further. You whimper and shake your head.
‘So put your fuckin’ hips back down. Y’ain’t earned it yet.’
Santi lets your lip go and flops back against the sheets with a shit-eating grin. You lower your hips again and place both your palms on his stomach, pushing your tits together. He eyes them greedily, reaching out and flicking a thumb over each nipple. You feel your pout grow, your brows drawn tight together and your bottom lip swollen, jutting out almost comically. Santi catches a glimpse of your face, and puffs out a laugh.
‘Poor baby,’ he coos, ‘Just wanna get fucked, don’t ya?’ You nod pathetically, but don’t dare move. He is achingly hard beneath you, his thick length resting perfectly between your folds. Santi lowers his hands from your nipples until he has them on your hips, and like he’s read your fucking mind, he begins to rock you back and forth.
A wanton, needy moan drools out of your mouth as your pussy wets him, fresh slick leaking out of your clenching hole. You wonder how much of this Frankie can hear.
Santi groans beneath you, watching the head of his cock disappear under you every time he slides you forwards. The pressure of him just against your lips is heady, and you watch as he guides you forwards just a little more, urges you to lean a little further forward until your clit catches on the head of his cock on every slide. You throw your head back, your fingers scratching at his torso, and he watches you. He whispers that you look so pretty like this, how he can feel you, look at how wet you’re making my cock, baby, can feel you twitchin’ on me already, angel. He guides you back and forth until you feel a heavy pressure begin to settle in your pussy, a burning beginning deep in your gut. Your moans become more frantic as you begin to plead with him, though you’re not sure what for.
‘Use your words, baby,’ Joel reminds you from his seat. ‘Ask Santi. Tell him what you need.’
You release a hot breath of air, biting your lip.
‘Gonna come, Santi,’ you tell him breathlessly, ‘Need to stop. Gonna come.’
But Santi just smiles sweetly up at you, his eyes heavy lidded. You pussy twitches, the knot pulling tighter. He reaches up with one hand and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.
‘Why would I want you to stop, angel?’ He asks. You shake your head. You don’t know. ‘Talk to me, baby.’ He prompts.
‘I don’t know. Haven’t been - fuck - told -’ you whimper. He nods, swallows harshly.
‘I want you to come,’ he tells you, ‘I want you to come now, and then I’m going to make you come again, and then as many more times as I see fit, do you understand?’
You groan and nod.
‘Yes, Santi.’
‘Good girl,’ he says. ‘And when I’m done with you, I’m gonna give you back to your daddy, and he’s gonna make you come as many times as he sees fit, too. Okay, baby?’
You clench around nothing, painfully, moving faster over Santi’s cock of your own accord.
‘Fuck. Yes, Santi.’
Santi settles his head back against the bed again, running his hands all over your body, anywhere he can touch you.
‘Go on, baby,’ he says, ‘Use me.’
Fuck, you groan out, tilting your hips to allow your clit to scrape down the underside of his cock at every pass. Without thinking, you lean so far forward that you plant a hand around the base of Santi’s throat to keep yourself upright, tightening your fingers over his pulse point. He lets out a strangled moan, his eyes fluttering closed, and you feel the pressure in your core build heavier and heavier until the white hot heat snaps. You throw your head back, coming with gasps of his name and loud moans, still rocking yourself back and forth, still squeezing over his neck.
Your vision is fuzzy and your breathing still feverish when Santi grabs at your fingers and pries them away from him. You flush at your carelessness, an Imsosorry rushing out as you stare at your hand in his. He shushes you tenderly, breathing deeply.
‘S’okay, baby,’ he says, ‘I like it. Don’t have a problem with it.’ He squeezes your hand, and then fixes you with a wicked, cruel look. ‘Just don’t wanna come yet, that’s all. Only so much a man can stand when I can feel you falling apart on top of me.’
You flush even deeper, leaning forward to bury your face in his neck, laving hot, open mouthed kisses along the hard muscle there. He groans and chuckles against you, kneading your ass.
‘Want me to fuck you now, baby?’ He murmurs into your ear.
You whine against him, lick across his jaw.
‘Yes, Santi,’ you groan. ‘Please fuck me.’
Santi grips the hair at the base of your neck to pull you away from him, and you let yourself be led. He slides you off him, and rests on his knees before you. Your eyes dip hungrily to his bobbing cock, shining with your come, tip an angry red, precum dripping down its length. It twitches under your gaze, and you lick your lips.
Santi chuckles again, his hand still buried in your hair.
‘Dirty fuckin’ girl.’ He murmurs as he manipulates your body. ‘Turn around,’ he says, ‘Hands and knees, baby.’ You follow his directions, turning on the bed towards Joel before planting your limbs and curving your spine, angling your ass in the air. You’re not sure where you should look until Santi releases your hair and leans over your back, a hand on your hip.
‘Look at your daddy,’ he says into your ear, gripping your chin softly to angle your head. You look at Joel through heavy lidded eyes, only to find his are similar. ‘Keep your eyes on him.’
Joel is still fully dressed in the chair, head heavy against the back of it. His legs are spread wide, a hand on either arm, fingers spread and clenched slightly against the fabric. His jaw is tense, and you can see how his jeans strain over his cock - fully hard by the looks of it. You moan into the sheets as you watch him watch you. Santi kneels behind you, running his hands over your soft skin, as he dips two fingers through your folds, swearing softly.
‘She’s so wet, Joel.’ He whispers, and Joel’s eyes leave yours momentarily to see Santi hold his fingers up to the light, coated in slick. Joel’s hips move slightly, bucking into nothing, and he barely manages to grunt out a response. You wonder again how much of this Frankie can hear behind the door, whether he’s straining in his jeans just as Joel is, whether his ear is pressed against the crack just so he can hear what Santi is whispering to you both.
Pope grips one of your hips, and uses his other hand to line himself up at your entrance. He uses his tip to spread your slick around a little more until you whine again, fisting the sheets.
‘Please, Santi, please -’
And he needs no more encouragement, sinking all the way in on the first thrust. You cry out into the mattress, your sounds coming out choked, overwhelmed as he sets a relentless pace.
‘Fuck, baby,’ he hisses out behind you, neither of you able to get more words out.
You quickly lose yourself to the feel of him pumping in and out, every part of you wound up tight, hot. You can feel yourself squeezing him already, making his hips stutter. Joel notices, too. You wonder whether he remembers Frankie is outside, as well, because he manages to force out in a low grumble -
‘How does she feel?’
Santi gathers your hair up in a fist, bringing your face up from the sheets just so they can hear you better. He grits his teeth, tries to stutter out his answer -
‘So - fucking - good -’ and at this, a delicious smile sweeps across Joel’s face. He’s proud. You moan even louder and manage to garble out a daddy, which makes him positively grin.
‘Atta girl, baby,’ he says to you, before turning back to Santi, ‘Just good?’
You and Santi both hear the prod in his words, and it shoots another thrill through you to remember just how much control Joel has; how he wants him to tell him what he already knows, to prove that his worth.
‘Not just good,’ Santi groans, ‘Fuckin’ perfect. So tight. So warm. She’s clenchin’ me already, makin’ me feel like a fuckin’ teenager,’ he laughs around a puff of air, before leaning back into you. ‘Tómatelo con calma, hermosa - quiero que esto dure.’ You moan again at his words, as they spark the opposite of their desired effect.
‘Shit,’ Santi chuckles out, ‘God, Joel. Pussy like I’ve never felt. And so responsive, too.’ To prove his point Santi lands a firm smack on your ass and you yelp, pulsing around him, biting your lip. He moans behind you. ‘Don’t know how you ever get anything done,’ he bites out, ‘I’d never be able to leave her alone.’
You glow under Santi’s praise and Joel’s warming stare, and push yourself up loosely onto your elbows as Santi returns both of his hands to your hips. You push back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Santi gasps, before reaching around you to rub desperately at your clit. Your moans bounce off the walls, sharp gasps and whines melting into begging -
‘Please, Santi - fuck - oh my god, oh my god, please - ‘m so close. So close -’
‘Gonna come again, baby?’ He coos from above you. You nod furiously.
‘Yes,’ you gasp out, ‘God, please Santi, fuckin’ me so good -’
With a grunt, Santi hauls you upwards so your back is flush against his chest. He fucks into you harshly, fingers still working your clit, his other hand pinching and twisting a nipple as he kisses and bites his way along your neck, you shoulder, below your ear.
‘Good girl,’ he says, and your head dips back onto his shoulder, mouth open in a sob because he feels so good -
Santi grips your chin again, yanking your face down and towards Joel.
‘Look at your daddy,’ he snaps at you, ‘You look at your daddy when you come for me.’
And you do. You can barely keep your eyes open as your body gives out, loud, broken moans escaping your mouth, Santi and daddy alternating somewhere in there as Santi fucks you through it, fingers still on your clit as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder -
‘Good - fucking - girl.’
And you see even Joel’s eyes close momentarily, his hands clenching to fists on the arms of the chair, a growl of desperation only you can hear tumbling out of his chest.
Santi is relentless as he chases his own release, but you’re so tight around him that he refocuses his efforts.
‘Again, baby,’ he orders, ‘Give me another. I can feel it. Come on. It’s right there. You gotta give it to me, hermosa -’
But you whine against him, twitching, trembling, sobbing through the overstimulation, unsure where the boundary between pleasure and pain is. You shake your head, try to catch your breath.
‘Too much, Santi, too much,’ you cry, ‘Can’t - don’t know -’
‘You can, baby,’ he breathes, voice like steel, and you whimper. That tone so similar to Joel’s, how he knows, how now Santi knows, that you can.
At his insistence, you tumble off the cliff again, weakly calling his name as a gush of arousal spills onto his lap, as you pulse and contract around his cock. He releases a strangled groan, his hips stuttering, his breathing heavy. He peers over your shoulder at Joel.
‘Where do you want it?’ he gasps.
‘Inside her.’ Joel growls, and you moan again as Santi sheathes himself to the hilt and comes and comes and comes. You feel him fill you, his dick pulsing and twitching deep in your pussy, and he sags as he begins to leak out. You both hit the mattress, Santi just about propping himself up on his elbows so he doesn’t crush you. You both breathe heavily for a second, until he moves your hair from your face and touches your cheek.
‘You okay?’ he rasps, throat dry. You chuckle breathily.
‘Yes.’ You sigh. Santi licks his lips and laughs quietly, too, shifting gently to slip out of you. You both groan, trying to catch your breath again. Your limbs are liquid, your body heavy, and somewhere in your dazed state you feel him dip a kiss to your shoulder blade before using his tongue to soothe the bite mark he’d left earlier.
You turn your face towards him as you feel his weight leave the bed. He smiles at you, muttering something about getting himself cleaned up before gesturing to the opposite way you're facing. You turn your head to find Joel, pulled to his full height, standing at the foot of the bed, still fully fucking clothed.
You slowly rise to your knees on the mattress, and Joel smiles at you, lifting a hand to settle against your cheek. You lean into it, turning your head to kiss his palm.
‘You okay, baby?’ he asks softly.
‘Yes, daddy.’ You breathe.
He nods, pleased.
‘Good. On your knees, on the floor for me, baby girl.’ He says.
You pull your languid limbs off the bed and settle on your knees on the floor, waiting patiently for him. You rest your palms on top of your thighs, tingling and relaxed, and wait for your instruction. It comes before Santi even leaves the bathroom.
‘Mouth.’ Joel says, and you shuffle forward towards him, hungry hands grappling with his belt as he chuckles down at you. ‘My eager girl.’ And you shine a blinding smile up at him.
You whip his belt off, launch it across the room, and make quick work of the button and zipper, pulling his jeans down his thighs so just his boxers are left. You lick your teeth at the sight of his barely contained cock, the front of his underwear stretched, the tip of his dick peeking from above his waistband, leaking and swollen. You rise up on your knees as you reach for the band, lifting your eyes to Joel’s as you pull his underwear down, smiling again as one of his big hands comes to rest at the back of your head, impatient already.
His boxers and jeans pulled down, you take Joel into your hand, pumping him gently before pulling the tip to your mouth, blowing on it lightly before pressing a kiss to the weeping slit. Joel sucks a breath in through his teeth, and presses his hips forward, sinking his cock past your lips. You take him gratefully, opening as wide as you can, your tongue soft and firm against him, tracing and twirling as you hollow your cheeks.
‘So good t’me.’ Joel breathes out, pushing a little further, just to hit the back of your throat and hear you choke lightly. You moan around his length, your eyelids flickering shut as he begins to fuck your throat slowly, making sure to feel every inch you allow him access to.
Santi emerges from the bathroom, and he can’t help but grin as he takes in the sight of you on your knees before Joel, swiping a hand over his mouth to try and hide his mirth. You flutter your eyelashes at him, and he shakes his head before crossing the room to sit in the chair Joel was in before. He crosses an ankle over his knee, leaning back to watch you both.
You hum around Joel and begin to bob up and down his length, using your fist to pump what you don’t have the patience to take in your mouth. Joel tangles his fingers in your hair and groans as he feels your tongue dip into his slit, slip over the sensitive spot on the underside of his head.
‘Fuckin’ hell,’ he grunts, ‘Putting on a show for Santi, are we?’
You smile wickedly around his cock, before taking him all the way to the base on your own. You hold your head there as long as possible as Joel chokes out moan after moan, and from behind you Santi mumbles -
‘Fuck, Joel. She’s leaking all over the floor.’
Joel huffs out a breath, pulling you off his cock. He peers down at you, eyes dark.
‘Are you, baby?’ He asks.
You wiggle your ass to feel what even you hadn’t noticed, too caught up in sucking his dick. A small puddle of you and Santi has been dripping down onto the hardwood where you kneel. More slick pulses out of you at the realisation.
‘Yes, daddy,' you sigh, and Joel’s eyes roll up into his head. He yanks your hair roughly to bring you to your feet.
‘Get up,’ he snarls, ‘And get on the bed.’
Joel all but throws you back on to the mattress, and it happens in such a rush that you wonder if you’ve done something wrong. You wrack your brain as Joel undresses before you, his eyes scouring your body, taking in the marks, the bruises already forming, how your hair is wet with sweat at the roots, how your pussy still drips onto the sheets -
And then you get it. Joel is getting off on it - on the thought of you being full, used, wanted, shown off -
Once he is down to just his skin, he crawls over you, lifting and pushing your hips to move you up the bed. He dips his head to lick and kiss and bite at your neck, and your hands flutter around him, touching him everywhere. His back, his arms, his neck, his face, scraping your nails down his exposed skin. He makes his way to your mouth, devouring you - all tongue and teeth until he rears back to look at you, sprawled and gorgeous below him.
‘So beautiful, baby,’ he groans, ‘So perfect like this. Open your mouth for me.’ You do as he says, flattening your tongue out against your lower lip for good measure. He groans again, and then leans forward to spit in your mouth. You swallow it down hungrily.
‘Thank you, daddy.’ You say, and he leans back down to kiss you again before retracing down your neck, your collarbones, your breasts -
‘Such a good girl, rememberin’ your manners,’ he grumbles, ‘So good, takin’ Santi, look so good when you’re takin’ his cock.’ You whimper as he bites down on each of your nipples, soothing them with open-mouthed kisses. He kisses down your stomach, around your heat, nipping the inside of your thighs, making sure to leave marks, breathing hotly onto your skin.
‘But now you’ve made a mess, baby, haven’t you?’ He says. You mewl at the ceiling, clutching the sheets around you as Joel blows on your clit, hovering just above where you need him. ‘Words, baby.’ He reminds you, with a sharp slap to your thigh.
‘Yes, daddy.’ You cry.
‘And what do we do when we make a mess?’ He asks.
‘Clean it up, daddy.’ You pant.
‘Good girl,’ he coos, ‘Good girl.’ Before he licks a fat, hot stripe from your leaking hole up to your clit.
You gasp at the sensation, your back arching off the bed, the coil in your stomach already wound impossible tight, every part of your body still so sensitive. Joel works with abandon at your pussy, flattening his tongue to lap at you, tasting the mixture of you and Santi, slurping around your opening before focusing his efforts on your bundle of nerves, sharpening his tongue to work it in tight circles, then figure eights. Your hips buck strongly against him, and he secures a forearm against your lower belly to stop you struggling. He hums against you as your hand winds its way into his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp.
‘Daddy, daddy, daddy, so good - fuck - so good - tongue feels so good, baby -’ You babble to him, to yourself, and Joel lowers his mouth, working his tongue inside you, grinding his nose against your clit. Your shoulders shoot off the bed, and you pull his hair now, biting a curse between your teeth. Joel doesn’t let up for a second, just moves his forearm so he can force your upper body back down onto the bed. Your fingers loosen their grip on his hair, coming up instead to scrub at your face as moan after moan escapes you.
A groan echoes from the chair, and you flick your gaze behind you to see Santi watching greedily, palming himself through his boxers. The sight only serves to work you up more, your core tightening and tightening and tightening, an unbearable heat settling where Joel’s tongue is, but you need him deeper -
‘You close, baby?’ He mumbles against you.
‘Y-es.’ You force out, as he pinches your clit between his lips.
‘What do you need?’ He asks.
‘Fuck - your fingers, Joel, please -’
Joel obliges, slipping one, and then two digits into your cunt easily, fucking them in and out as he licks again at your nub, swirling and sucking and lapping -
‘Come on, baby,’ he groans, ‘Give me what I want.’
The forearm he has braced against your middle barely keeps your back on the bed as you come, hard and loud against his tongue. Your whole body twitches, so warm, as he laps and laps and laps at you, as you beg him to stop, to let you breathe for just a second - but he doesn’t, he never does, just eats until he’s had his fill, until he’s satisfied.
When he lifts his head from between your thighs, his beard and cheeks are glistening with your come. He releases his grip on you and begins to crawl upwards again, and you clamp your thighs shut to stop him from provoking anymore overstimulation. He laughs down at you, kneeling back to yank your legs back open with his strong hands.
‘We’re not done with you, yet, baby,’ he coos, ‘I ain’t had all my fun.’
You shake your head at him, pitiful, your lower lip jutting out. He pouts back at you.
‘You don’t want daddy’s cock, darlin’?’ He asks. You can’t even find it in you to hesitate.
‘I do,’ you cry, ‘Just don’t wanna be touched anymore.’
Joel nods at your words, strokes your cheek, kisses your forehead.
‘It’s okay, baby girl,’ he murmurs, ‘I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. Won’t make you come again if you don’t want to.’ Liar. He knows just as well as you do what his cock does to you. But still, he pauses, makes sure you’re looking at him. ‘Can I still have this pussy, angel?’
You blink up at him. Something warm curls in your stomach. Relief, you think, that he’s heard you, understands - that you know - even with Santi and Frankie here - you could stop this at any time.
‘Yes, daddy.’ You say.
He smiles, wraps you up in a tender kiss.
‘Thank you, sweetheart.’ He murmurs as he lines himself up at your entrance, and begins to sink in.
Joel tugs at the backs of your thighs, hitching them to your chest so he can watch as he splits you open. His eyes flick from your cunt to your face, the glistening slit stretching to accommodate him and the way your jaw falls loose in a silent ‘o’, your brows brunched, your eyes rolling and falling shut. The slip of him is sinful tonight - your orgasms leaving your body like jelly, Santi’s cock preparing you for Joel’s thickness. But he still moves toe-curlingly slow, inch after inch after inch providing a delicious stretch. He groans as he feels you flutter and tense and contract around him, still unable to breathe, unable to speak. Only he can get you like this - not a babble slipping past your lips, unable to do anything but feel him. Joel pants, moaning again as he bottoms out, tip kissing your cervix. He runs a finger over your cheek, letting you adjust further.
‘Talk to me, baby,’ he urges.
He rocks his hips back and forth, no more than an inch, but it punches out the breath you were holding.
‘Fuck, Joel,’ the whisper all you can get out. He smiles at you.
‘Yeah, angel?’
‘So big.’ you breathe, shifting your hips so he can sink even further in.
‘There she is,’ he huffs, pulling out again, ‘There’s my girl.’
Joel rocks forward again, and you cry out around him, the noise setting him off into a languid pace which allows him to hit every single spot inside you. You can’t bear to touch your own body, frightened of sending yourself into the void, but you do touch Joel. You clutch at his biceps, his tight forearms, nails leaving little crescent moons wherever you grip. You tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls, swipe the lines on his forehead, the stubble on his cheeks. He twists his head to kiss and suck at your thumb, and you mewl at him, eyes wide and glassy, so full of him you don’t know what to do.
You’re barely aware, even, of the slick sound of skin and Santi’s soft groans as he works his cock in the chair, caught up in the intensity of you and Joel fucking, his chest flushed and shining with sweat.
There’s still not a noise, not a peep from the other side of the door.
All you can hear is Joel; his deep breathing, low grunts and moans, his whispered praises, and the startlingly wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of you. You can’t stop the contractions that build inside you, and every time one ripples through your pussy Joel’s head drops a little lower towards your chest.
Your orgasm feels deafeningly close and impossibly strong, brought on by every shift of Joel’s dick. You try to breathe through it, your moans getting louder, soaking the room with sound, but it’s hopeless.
Joel dips his head to kiss you softly, swallowing your sounds for just a minute. When he pulls away, you teeter on the edge, everything feeling heavy and blurred and blazingly good.
‘Joel.’ You whisper urgently.
‘I know, baby,’ he says, ‘I can feel it. You’re taking it so well, sweet girl. So good f’me. I know it feels good. You can let go. You can do it. Come on.’
You all but scream against him, your orgasm ripping through your body, every muscle on fire. Your legs shake and your arms tighten around his neck as you shiver and twitch around him, and he moans, long and loud, like you’ve never heard him do before.
As he fucks you through it, the relief, the pleasure catches up with you, and tears swell and pour out of your eyes.
‘So good,’ you sob, ‘So good daddy, God -’
Joel coos back at you. ‘Atta girl, baby. Knew you could do it. Knew you could give me one more. And it was so pretty, baby.’ he grins at you, before picking up his pace. You whine beneath him.
‘’S okay,’ he promises, ‘Where do you want me, darlin’?’ and you huff at him, as if you could ever give a different answer.
‘Inside. Come inside me.’ You say. And Joel crowds you out, pushing all the way in so you’re moaning again, pumping in the deepest part of you as his hips flex against yours, his head in your shoulder. You stroke his curls, breathing deeply as he relaxes.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he mumbles against your skin. He pulls his head away, blinking. You giggle up at him.
‘Y’alright?’ you ask, and he smiles back.
‘Fuckin’ more’n alright,’ he laughs, ‘Are you?’
‘Yeah,’ you say, ‘Real good.’
Joel slides himself out of you, both grunting at the loss, and he flicks a look over your shoulder.
‘You good, Pope?’ He asks, grinning at the other man. You twist your head to look at him too, giggling again when you take in his fucked out face, exhausted in the corner, his stomach covered in come. Santi can’t help but grin back.
‘Yeah, great.’ he answers wryly, and you giggle even more.
Joel laughs with you, rolling onto his back and pulling you against his shoulder, kissing your hair.
‘Did so good, baby.’ he reminds you again as you feel him begin to dribble out of you.
Santi stands with a groan, and makes his way back towards the bathroom, muttering something about having to clean himself up again.
You press your face to Joel’s neck with a smile, leaving soft kisses, only coming away when you hear the jingle of a belt buckle. Santi is dressing at the end of the bed, just short of pulling his top on. You frown at him.
‘You’re leaving?’ you ask. He looks up, smirking again.
‘Not yet, querida,’ he says, ‘Just cold. Besides, there’s still someone we need to look after.’
You watch him as he buckles his belt with baited breath, curious as to how this will play out. You aren’t sure what exactly will happen next - whether Frankie will come in, or who will… deal with him. Your breath hitches in your throat before Joel answers your questions for you.
‘Go check on Frankie, baby girl,’ he murmurs, stroking your hair back. You bury your face in his chest again, and breathe in deeply. You scrunch the sheets at his waist in your fist, and Santi chuckles at your reluctance to leave the bed. You plant a kiss to Joel’s exposed skin before pulling yourself away to sit up on the bed. Planting your feet and gathering your strength before standing. You pick up Joel’s flannel from the floor and slip your arms into it, bundling yourself against the chill you now also feel as you pad towards the door. You feel Joel and Santi’s eyes on you, silent, assessing.
When you reach the bedroom door, you touch it gingerly, breathing deeply. You feel… nervous. How would Frankie react to everything he’d heard? You knew he’d done things like it before, but you knew you would be so… angry. Jealous and frustrated. You bite your lip, and slowly pull the door back.
Frankie is exactly where Santi left him, on his knees a step back from the threshold. Your breath catches in your throat as you take him in.
At some point during it all, he'd removed his cap. It’s tossed on the floor a few feet away, and his hair is… fucked. Strands stick out on all sides, his curls mussed and frazzled. Sweat is gathered at his temples, and his skin has a warm, glossy sheen to it. All across his face, right down to the hollow of his throat peeking above his t-shirt. His lips are swollen and bitten, wet with spit as his tongue pokes out to lick them again at the sight of you, and his eyes… Eyes so dark they’re almost black, pupils blown so wide they just sparkle back at you. Deep, dangerous, and hungry.
He’s ravenous as he looks you up and down - your smooth skin, naked thighs, bare pussy - still dripping with come - up to your exposed tits, bitten and bruised, your neck, your face… totally fucked out, swollen lips, smudged makeup, your own blown out eyes. He moans as he takes you in, and you go weak at the knees at the sight of his hands raking up and down his jean-clad thighs. His dick is straining against the denim, against the claw of his zipper, and as you look closer, you see a wet patch much larger than just precum darkening the fabric. Your cheeks flush at the sight, at the knowledge - Frankie had come in his pants just listening to the three of you.
You breathe out shakily and get to your knees, so close to him you're almost touching. You reach a hand out to cup his cheek, and he leans into it, breathing in and out deeply, closing his eyes.
‘You okay, baby?’ You ask him softly, voice low. Frankie groans again.
‘Yes.’ He croaks out.
You don’t know if you’re allowed, but you figure you’ll find out soon enough. You lean forward, tits spilling out of Joel’s shirt, and place your hands on his thighs. His breathing sputters, and his head drops forward, but not before you can catch his lips in a sweet, soft kiss. Just like you’ve wanted to, for so long.
He sighs against you, lips seeking yours. But he seems so exhausted, so on edge, that he can hardly pour any fire into it. His tongue searches your mouth, almost like a plea.
Please. Please.
As though he hears it too, Joel says quietly from the bed -
‘Help him, baby.’
You pull away from Frankie’s kiss and lean your forehead to his.
‘What do you need?’ You whisper.
He looses a ragged sigh, too turned on to even know himself.
‘Can I touch you?’ He breathes.
You nod, and he reaches out his hands - carefully, gently - to skirt over and up your waist, to touch your stomach, to skate over your tits. You wince, once, as he traces over one of your nipples, and he freezes. You smile shyly at him.
‘It’s okay,’ you whisper, ‘’M just sore.’ He nods, and continues to touch, caressing your neck, thumbing your jaw, your cheekbone, stroking your brow. He’s so tender, so Frankie, that you feel tears well behind your eyelids. As though he can sense it, tell the gravity of the moment, he drops his hands, skirting them along your thighs, drifting towards your hips, thumbs rubbing the sides of your tummy, before creeping towards your heat.
‘Is this okay?’ He asks.
‘Yes.’ You sigh, this time against his mouth, drawing his lips back to yours.
When Frankie dips one of his hands to sweep through your folds, you both moan. Low and long against each other.
‘Fuck,’ he breathes against you, stalling. Slowly, slowly, he brings his coated fingers to his mouth, so close to you that you can smell it, the mix of you and Joel and Santi, and he slips the digits between his lips. He holds your eye the whole time, devouring, tongue swiping over every knuckle, every valley, until they’re clean. He releases them with a pop. You groan, wanting him, impossibly, and you ask again.
‘What do you need, Frankie?’
‘You.’ He says. Frankie swoops forward again to kiss you, one hand now at the back of your head, one back between your legs, gathering the mess between your thighs. You rock against his hand as he parts you, feels you, and you reach forward for his belt, his button, his zipper, undoing all three in record time. You slip a hand into his jeans, under his boxers, impatient to feel him, all of him, and he gasps against you, stilling his movements. He groans your name, almost in warning.
‘It’s okay,’ you tell him, stroking his hair soothingly, ‘You’ve waited so long, Frankie. It’s okay.’
You take your hand out from his pants, and join his at your pussy, just for a moment, just to collect what’s left and what’s already pooling from you again, before returning your hand to his cock, using the combined juices to move your hand easily up and down. Frankie moans brokenly against you, his body slumping forwards.
You can’t see him like this, but you can feel him - and Frankie is big. Not quite as big as Joel, but thicker and pulsing against your palm, already wet from his come and what you have just provided him. You swipe your thumb over his tip, collecting his precum to spread down his length, and he jerks against you at the movement.
‘Fuck, baby,’ he whispers, ‘I can’t, I’m not gonna last, hermosa -’
You shush him again, kissing at his temple, his brow, his cheek, before nudging to his lips.
‘It’s okay, Frankie,’ you say again. ‘I want you to come. You deserve to come. You’ve been so good for us.’
And it’s all Frankie needs as he moans loudly against your lips, body seizing and relaxing harshly against yours as he spills himself over your fist, over his jeans, over your thighs and the top of your mound. There is so much of him it’s almost comical, and you laugh softly as he finally starts to relax.
He looks up at you shyly, questioningly.
‘Look at you, Frankie,’ you breathe, and he flushes right to the tops of his ears. ‘So good.’ You murmur.
‘All for you,’ he whispers so only you can hear. He holds your gaze, trying to communicate everything he’s been thinking behind that door. ‘All for you.’
You lean forward and kiss him again. Try to forget, for now, the scratch of those unanswered questions, what it could all mean. Later.
‘Come on,’ you say, taking his hand and rising from the floor. He follows and returns your smile. ‘Let's get you cleaned up.’
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller x you#frankie morales#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#santiago garcia#santiago garcia x reader#triple frontier#triple frontier fanfiction#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia x reader#joel miller x frankie morales x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
A (not so) Drunken Mistake
pairings: best friend re2!leon x fem!reader
cw: clumsy, awkward shit, desperation, bad fluff (sry), first time, CONSENT CONSENT CONSENTT KING, creampie, shower time, mentions of alcohol, oral (f receiving), hand job, overstim a lil bit, hella dirty talking, light choking, multiple orgasms, soft dumbification, and nipple play. Lmk if I missed anything!
wc: 3.9k
dedicated to the lovely: zoepallvc !!
tags: @adiorxia @admirxation @rigorwhoring @nilpill @lottiies @leonkennedygvrl @leonsdolly @dilfstar @gettingsilly @bonnibuckets @bunnyclaire @dollfacefantasy ahh just tagging all my moots 😣!!
Awkward confessions being blurred out as you two were drinking in this living room. Soft shades of warm hues painting your skins, flushing out the cool tones of the night sky. His hand on yours, mouth slotting against yours as if it were natural. Normal.
Both of you couldn't help yourselves anymore. The tension was thicker than oatmeal and ice cream cake. Soft giggles and blows into the wet caverns as you clumsily clashed teeth against teeth. Hot breaths of alcohol waft through the air. The bottles of Mike's Hard Strawberry Lemonade and a bottle of Crown Royal Whisky strewn across the coffee table. Alongside keys and stacks of mail, unopened.
His hands travel across the bumpy surface of your body, mapping out every single dip. Being careful not to squeeze too hard or grope you in places neither of you are ready to explore with one another. If he wasn't drunk, he would've stopped at every inch and looked at you for confirmation.
Your hands too, roamed wildly on his body. A soft gasp left you as soon as he guided you to his lower abdomen. Wanting—no—needing you to touch him. To give him the same attention he's giving you. Of course, the amount will almost never be the same. It's okay though, minds too heavy to even think rational thoughts. So who gives a fuck if he loves you more. Gives you more attention and doesn't expect the same amount back. It's been like this since day one.
Leon has always had your back, especially during your childhood years. Both of you stuck to each other like glue. Always helping you when a guy gave you trouble or rejected you. Wished it was him that you imagined between your thighs. To be the first one to take your virginity with everything. But he thought it was too much to even ask for. So he settled with just staying best friends with you.
Of course, alcohol gave him the courage to even be doing this to you right now. But he knows better than to sleep with you instantly. Got to take things slow… to woo you over and make you yearn for him to be inside of you. To desire him pounding you with all of his might.
You've seen his build many times, gulping as his arms got bigger than they used to be. When small veins would pop up on his forearms or his hands, it made your mouth just start pooling up.
Or when the two of you would play fight, feeling his arms easily wrap around you and trap you against his body. One arm around your shoulders and the other around your delicate waist.
Tossing and turning, you wearily remember last night. The kisses and heated touches you guys exchanged. Good god. You groan and flip over, reaching for Leon.
“Leon. Wake up,” you croak out, rubbing your face with the palms of your hands.
He grumbles, moving his legs, slowly waking up from the sound of your voice. He rolls over to his side, hands finding you and pulling you close to his bare chest.
Your hands push up against his pecs, shaking him slightly. Giving him a few nudges with your feet, feeling his warmth soak into your skin like water. Makes you feel sleepy but you know you shouldn't fall back asleep. You have to get up and take care of your headache and relieve yourself!
He opens his eyes slowly, a small smile creeping up on his lips. A toothy awkward smile. “Good morning beautiful,” he hums huskily.
Doughy thighs squeezing together instinctively from the sound of his voice. Fuck. How did you even stay around him without jumping his bones?
“Good morning,” you shyly sputter out, looking into his baby blue eyes. Fluttering your eyelashes a few times. Make sure you aren't dreaming of this whole scenario out. Daydreaming even. Maladaptive type shit.
His thumbs gently trace your lower back, his pupils dilating into heart shaped you swear.
You both could stare at each other for hours, if only you didn't have to piss so fucking bad. Might explode if you don't get up any time soon. Well, maybe not explode per say, but your kidney would sure appreciate it if you peed sooner than later!
Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you tap on his arms, signaling him to move them. “I gotta go pee real quick,” shuffling out of the bed in his shirt and your underwear.
Making a quick pace, getting into the bathroom and shutting the door. Relieving yourself with a sigh. Getting up, flushing the toilet, and washing your hands before Leon rattles his knuckles on the door.
“Are you done?”
“Yeah, hold on.” You open the door, seeing him stand there with his hip slanted, arm leaning against the door frame. Of course his lips are painted in a smug sort of smile.
“Let's shower together baby,” he comes up, wrapping his arms around you loosely. Coaxing you into this idea with soft kisses and soft touches. Feeling you relax into his body, practically slumping against him. Cute, he thinks.
Hearing you mumble out an “okay”, he takes the prerogative to slip his shirt off of you. You lift your arms and he tosses it to the ground. Following his actions, you slip your panties off.
Shyly standing before him as his eyes take over you hungrily. Leon hums in appreciation, his hands slowly running up your arms, over your shoulders, and down your chest. Taking his sweet time to appreciate every single thing on your body. Every curve, pimple, dimple, and strand of hair he can see with his eyes.
This man is in love with you. Clear as day!
You tremble with anticipation and adrenaline, feeling goosebumps chasing after his warmth. Letting out a low moan as he cups your breasts in his gigantic hands. Well… they're bigger than your own, that's for sure. You are positive he can hear each breath you take and exhale out through your nose.
He lets go of them after a few soft squeezes. His index and thumb encapsulate your perky nipples, tweaking them curiously.
A zip of pain mixed with slight pleasure swirls around your areolas. Almost buckling from the sight of him and feel of his fingers. “Leon…” you whimper impatiently, hands coming up to tug on his boxers with little force.
“Shh.. I got you princess,” he gives you an idiotic grin. Slowly dipping down to press his lips against yours, teasing you with little licks of his tongue, and soft nibbles.
Groaning when you pull him down by the neck, arms wrapped around him like he's gonna disappear soon. Meanwhile his hands push his briefs down enough for them to fall down his legs.
Soon after he grabs your thighs, directly underneath the cuff of your ass. Picking you up with ease and moving you to the countertop, right next to the sink. His hand moves up to your waist and the other moves to the back of your head. Slowly pulling away and tilting your head back, trying not to pull too hard.
Groaning as you whine and paw at him needily. His lips mark his way down south, stopping to attack your neck with hickeys. Feeling your hands grip at his soft light brown hair. Giving it a few tugs and he bites down slightly harder on your chest. Of course he has to give the same treatment to the other side, kissing the valley of your breasts.
Feeling your stomach tighten up, you wonder if he actually is a virgin like you. How is he so good at making you breathless?
His lips wrap around your nipple and suckles on it, teeth grazing bud making you gasp. Hot wet tongue swirling around it, humming as you moan and press his face further into your tit. Leon's warm hands rub against your back soothingly as his eyes flutter, looking at your reaction.
Pulling away, a string of spit connecting himself to you. Moving to give attention to the other side. He's like making out with your tits, humming and moaning like he's getting action too. His eyes dart up to you, pupils absolutely swallowing his irises. He looks so drunk off of just kissing your chest.
“Can I go further, baby?” Leon's hands slip down to your thighs, giving them a squeeze.
You open them instinctively. Allowing your sensitive parts to be visible to his eyes. Watching his eyes quickly flit down and stare at it. Zoning out practically.
“It's so pretty, “ He coos, pushing your legs wider and spreading your cunt open with his thumbs.
You twitch from how close he is and whine at his compliment. Hands giving his hair a tug closer to your body. Leon chuckles, pressing his lips on your inner thighs, teasing you by nearing where you want him.
Repeating the same process on your other thigh. Leaving little marks wherever his lips collide with your soft skin. “Mhmm… fuck. Smells s’good. Can't wait any longer, beautiful.” He sticks his head further between your doughy thighs, tongue sticking out.
Making contact with your sopping wet cunt. Breath fanning your glistening folds as he just licks it like a candy. Sloppily wrapping his lips at the top, looking up at you like he wants to ask where your clit is.
“Mmph.. Leon it's here,” you lift the hood of your clit and show him it, shyly. He hums in affirmation.
Leon goes buck wild and sucks on it like crazy. Feeling your hips jolt towards him. His gorgeous blue eyes flutter shut, getting lost in the sauce. Your sauce. Sweet and tangy as he's trapped in the smell of you. So overwhelming in the best way possible, really.
You can tell he's enjoying this more than you are. With the way he's moaning and groaning, so much louder than you. The vibrations add fuel to the growing fire in your stomach. You spread your legs just a bit further apart. Making room for his head.
“Leon,” you mewl loudly. Pushing his hair back out of his eyes. “Please…” not sure what you are begging for. But he understands right away.
His right hand slides away from your thigh, fingers teasing around your drippy hole. Slowly pushing his middle and ring finger until he's knuckles deep. Savoring the way you clench around his thick fingers.
“So tight and warm.” He mumbles into your pussy.
Delving back in and sucking on your clit once more. Moving his fingers in and out, not trying to make it hurt. But it's so hard to be patient and not make you cry out his name. He needs to make you feel good. After all these years of playing a cat and mouse game.
Leon's been saving himself for you, hoping you did the same for him. Which he should know by now, since you both only really hangout with each other and mutual friends. Obviously you have your separate lives but it mostly overlaps with one another.
You rock your hips in time with his fingers, gasping when it hits your g-spot. Tugging on his hair to get him impossibly closer to your heat. The sounds of slurping and squelching are echoing throughout his bathroom and into his bedroom.
All this, you would've never thought would become reality. You've imagined him on top of you and whispering the naughtiest things you could think of. His hands touching everywhere on your body, his lips marking where it touches. Proudly claiming that you are his and nobody else's. Holding you extra tight when someone would flirt with you. His crystal blue eyes narrowing and a menacing aura shifting around him.
What snaps you out of your thoughts is when he curls his fingers and his teeth graze your sensitive bud. Can't help that your hands tighten around his poor strands of hair.
“You like that, baby?” Leon hums, watching your expressions intently. Figuring out what makes you tick and what you don't like. And you like this.
A soft whimper rolls off of your tongue and into his ears. It's such a beautiful melody, hearing you enjoy yourself because of him.
“C'mon princess, use your words.” He speeds up his fingers. Looking up at you like you are a god he worships day and night. A condescending tone just drips from his mouth. Acting like he can't figure it out just from the look of you.
“Y-Yeah… mmhg,” you nod your head dumbly. Feeling your thighs start to shake and your gummy walls clenching around his digits. “like it..”
Leon laughs softly and continues. Wanting to make you unravel before you both hop into the shower. It's the least he could do! He swirls his tongue around your clitoris a few times.
You let out a high pitch moan, “‘M gonna cum! ‘M gonna cum…!”
“Cum for me. Let it all out, honey.” He coos at you. His eyes are glued to your face. Watching it turn a light pink. Mouth hanging open wide. “Know you can do it for me.”
The coil in your stomach tightens with a warm gooey liquid making its way down south. It snaps when Leon bites down just a little bit harder on your bud.
All sorts of sounds spew out of your mouth. Whines, his name, and breathy moans. Your upper body starts to shake, thighs closing in on his head, squeezing him. Your stomach tenses and your body wants to curl in on itself.
Leon hums in revelation. His hand slows down to a stop and his mouth travels to your hole. Greedily licking away at your release. Needing every last drop to satisfy himself. He wishes he could store it all in a bottle and drink away at it when he misses you and your sweet cunt. Reluctantly, he pulls away, sucking at his fingers that were inside of you.
You hide your face at that, too embarrassing to watch him enjoy your taste.
“Baby,” his hands slide up around your waist. Standing up to his full height. His head dipping down into the nook of your shoulder. His hot breath tickles your skin, in all the right ways. “Think you can walk?”
You can feel his dick pressing up against your thigh, throbbing with need. It's hot and wet on your skin. “I don't know.” Is what you settle to say.
Before you take another breath, he scoops you up into his arms. Your legs immediately wrap around his fit waist. He steps into the shower and sets you back on the ground, holding onto your waist snugly. Slowly turning on the knob to the right to get the water warm.
Leon pulls the shower diverter pin to switch the water flowing down to have it flow up into the showerhead. He leads you both under the water, his other hand coming up to your eyebrows. Making sure the water doesn't get into your eyes.
Such a romantic!
Stepping closer to his body, in between his feet, you wrap your arms around him. “Do you want to do anything else?”
“Like…what?”
“Mm.. well, your dick keeps poking me…”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” You look up at him with a smile. Sneaking your nimble hands to it. Wrapping them both around it and slowly — but very clumsily — stroking him. Watching his face change as you continue to jerk him off. It's your turn to make him feel good. Or at least you think you should give it back.
Hearing his soft moans. Feeling his hips buck into your hand and his arm tightening around you. Leon's hand slips down to the back of your head. Dipping down to capture your lips in a kiss. His tongue prodding your lips, begging for entry. Hot breaths coming out of his nostrils against your face.
Your mind can't handle kissing him so hungrily, and making him feel good. So, you squeeze his poor cock and in return, Leon tangles his fingers in your hair and pulls it just a bit. Stumbling a bit backwards, you let go of it.
Leon pulls away and kisses around your face. So sweet.
“May I have sex with you?” His eyes blink their way down your wet body. And then back up to your eyes.
His face is flushed, his plump lips are pressed together. He just looks so divine. You want to, want to so bad.
“Yes, please.” Nodding like a madwoman, he gives you a chaste kiss. Patting your head like a cute puppy.
Turning you around and pressing down on your back gently, he goes between your bodies and grabs his length. Teasingly rubbing the sticky tip against your clit and down to your hole, not yet putting it in. Groaning when it slips a little bit into your hole.
“Are you ready, baby girl?”
“Uhuh, I'm ready Leon.” You put your hands on the shower wall as his hand grips onto your hip.
Slowly pushing his cock into you, a soft whine mixed with a moan leaves his lips. Stopping after a few inches are in your pussy. “You okay?”
“Mhmm… you feel so big, Leon.” Pressing your hips back against him as you speak.
Leon's hands grip harder onto your hips. Watching his dick disappear into your wetness. Your gummy walls clinging onto him like he should never leave. Seems like he enjoys being told that his manhood is big.
“Fuck baby, you're so… tight.” He leans down, sliding the rest inside. Groaning when you flutter around him, squeezing him harder. His hips buck and he grazes your womb.
You moan louder, trying to get used to something bigger than a tampon going in and out of you. “Please..” Wincing and involuntarily arching your back.
Leon pulls out and pushes in, a few inches at a time. After a few minutes of gently fucking you, he decides to go just a tad rougher. His eyes narrowing at your ass, watching the way it jiggles as his pelvis makes contact with it.
He's always thought you had a nice ass. Now, it's going to be forever ingrained in his mind, as it moves like water. Bouncing back onto him.
“Baby, fuck,” he whines, going faster. Hearing your desperate moans and whimpers makes all his thoughts drip down to his cock.
Leon wants to kiss you so bad. Kiss you and fondle you whilst he's pounding you. Not sure if his brain would short-circuit and ejaculate prematurely. He's too deep into you to ever want to pull out though.
His hands slide up to your breasts, squeezing them as if they were stress balls. Lowering down so his chest is merely inches away from your back. Feeling the heat radiating off of his body.
“You like that?” Breathing heavily into your ear like it's asmr. Snaking his arm around your neck, the other one wrapping around your waist. Needing you to be as close to him as possible. Even if it meant lightly choking you with his soft muscles. “Like it when I manhandle you? Mhmm, I know you do. Every time we wrestled, you think I couldn't hear you gasping and whining?”
It's dizzying how easily he can maneuver you. You can't really tell if he's trying to make you break, or if he's just talking to talk. Probably the former.
It's sort of frustrating how much he can remember and pays attention to your every little expression and noise. It's almost as if he has a small part of his brain just dedicated to you, storing everything about you there. Which really, should flatter you. Such a man wrapped around you like a vine.
“Fuck, I do. I love it,” you claw at his forearm, arching your back. Feeling the way his fat leaky tip goes impossibly deeper, curving around your squishy muscle. Unable to help yourself when your eyes roll into the back of your head, tilting back against his chest.
He's barely pulling out in this position and he groans. “Yeah, I'm always right, baby. I know you better than yourself,” he coos condescendingly. “Play with that pretty little clit of yours.” He can't help but laugh, trailing off into a whimper. Pressing kisses against your temple.
It doesn't take you long to spring a leak! With all that dirty talking he keeps mumbling into your ear. His hand groping your front side insatiably. With his stamina, really, he could go at it all night like a rabbit.
“Mmm… been dreaming of stuffing you full of my cock for a long time. Wanted to hear your pretty voice and feel you against me. Shit, this feels unreal.” Leon grunts through his teeth. Clenching his jaw tight.
Your legs almost give in, pressing back against him hard. Letting strings of cries and unimaginable sounds out from the bottom of your lungs. Feeling numb from the waist down. Luckily, Leon holds you upright, still plapping away into your soaked cavern.
“Good job. Good girl, sweet fucking—shit.” Your boyfriend growls, removing his arm around your neck to push your lips together. Swooping in for a spit filled kiss. His manhood is twitching against your womb.
“Want you to cum inside,” you lick into his mouth as he moans breathily. Pressing you tighter against him once those words reach his ears.
“Yeah? Want me to fill this pussy up with my cum? Get you pregnant and—” He can't even hold on for much longer. Just the idea of pumping you full and the possibility of getting you pregnant just makes his veins jump.
Leon whimpers, spurting rope after rope of his load into your womb. Your pussy greedily latching onto him and milking him for what he's worth. He's still humping into you. Fantasizing about the day you both have a family, a white picket fence and a cute dog in the picture too.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, precious.” He hesitates to pull out, sad at the idea of his little swimmers falling out of you.
Being the good guy he is, he cleans you both off. Massaging your hips and lower back, fearing he went a bit too hard on you. Running the soft pads of his fingers through your hair, with you resting against his chest.
Littering your face and neck with sweet kisses. Drying you both off and placing fresh clothes on your body. Laying down in the bed, cuddling one another.
“Maybe next time, we'll do it in my bed.” He jabs your arm lightly with his elbow. Already thinking of the next time both of you will go at it like teenagers. Clumsy and desperate.
“Yeah. Maybe next time, someone will buy condoms.” And that makes him whine, pouting down at you.
“But baby,” he tugs you closer to his chest, “I'll take care of you and the baby.”
“Leon.” You whack at his chest. Trying to smack some sense into him. “We can't have kids right now.*
“Who said so?”
“Me.”
“Well, I say we can and should.”
“Huh. Whatever you say boss man.”
“Don't call me that. It sounds gross.” Leon scowls playfully, feigning disgust in his voice. His blue hues twinkled softly.
“Okay, big guy.” You erupt into a fit of laughter. Leon joined you immediately after. The vibrations buzzing against your hand on his chest. Safe and warm. Like home.
#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x you#resident evil smut#leon kennedy x reader#leon scott kennedy#leon smut#leon kennedy smut#re2#re2 leon#leon s kennedy x reader#leon resident evil#localkiss
687 notes
·
View notes
Text
✱ confessing to you w/ Gojo, Nanami, Higuruma & gn!reader
@snailor-bee asked: LALEEEEE!!! (o゜▽゜)o♥ WHAT'S THIS I HEAR?? REQUESTS ARE OPEN?? FOR MORE FANDOMS?? You just know I just gotta... May I please request Gojo, Higuruma, and Nanami trying to confess to reader? (*/ω\*) Like headcanons/drabbles whichever. I just think it's real cute. And you're real cute. It just works out perfectly, hehe. Hoping you're doing well!! ;3; Sending you hugs and kisses!!
a/n: BEE my sweet (´⌣`ʃƪ) it feels like forever since i for around writing something for you, so i was super excited when you sent something in for me! i had a lot of fun writing these small drabbles, i hope they're to your liking! ps: i think YOU are super cute love you ok bye
➸ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐: Geto, Toji & Shiu
❦ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎
Gojo is used to being fawned on. He has the good looks and he knows. Keeps running his mouth without any consequences because there simply are none when you’re Gojo Satoru. The strongest. The balance of the world depends on him. He’s untouchable.
And then there’s you, who is tearing his whole act down with such ease, it makes his heart stop.
You don’t fuss over him and you don’t bow before him. His name doesn’t fall out of your mouth as if he was a deity, someone holy; and still it’s the sweetest sound he has ever heard. When you call out for him, Gojo wants to be there in an instant. There’s this unknown calmth whenever he’s with you, his heart feeling lightweight somehow. He’s drawn to you like the tide to the moon.
For someone as grand as Gojo, he loves so quietly.
He can’t bring himself to say those words out loud, as if they carried a weight that threatened what you two have. Still, he doesn’t know what to do with all this love; he never learned where to put it down. You can handle it, can you? The burden and the curse of being loved? You wouldn’t be scared to love him back, right?
So Gojo makes sure to show you his love in the most mundane things, so there’s no room for doubt just how tight he holds you in his heart. Midnight strolls to the candy aisle at the supermarket. I love you. A hand on the small of your back when you’re moving through a large crowd. I love you. Your fingertips brushing over his long white lashes while he rests his weary head in your lap under the cherry blossoms. I love you.
It’s only when you kiss him one night, in the middle of the parking lot, that those big words get caught in his throat. Six eyes aren’t enough to comprehend the feeling in his chest when his big hands cup your face, as if he wants to hinder you from ever pulling away from him. It would be so easy to mumble his confession against your lips, but you already know. So instead he simply kisses you back, sweeping you off your feet when you lose your balance from being on your tiptoes.
He smiles when you shush him with another kiss. He doesn’t need to say it out loud; you know, you’ve always known.
❦ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈
Nanami’s confession is apologetic.
The words have been weighing on his heart until one night, they just fall out of his mouth. Maybe he had one drink too many, not enough to be drunk, but enough to loosen his tongue. His thumb rubbing over the rim of his glass, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, his tie not so accurate anymore. He isn’t looking at you; it’s easier if his gaze doesn’t catch yours, if his eyes can’t wander to your lips. Your hands are next to each other on the bar counter, almost touching. He could close the distance so easily, but he’s aware that he wouldn’t be able to let go of your hand anymore.
“I’m in love with you.”
His voice is low, whisky-raspy. The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable; it’s a warmth that’s surrounding you like a veil. At this moment, it’s just you and him. In another life, this could have been so easy, couldn’t it? In a life where he doesn't have to worry about fighting curses, and the horrors humans are capable of, and about the day he might not come back home to you from work. He wouldn’t have to break your heart like that.
“So deeply, utterly in love with you.”
In another life, you could have had it all. The shared books on the nightstand, the matching rings on your fingers, the messy blankets in the morning. Maybe he was being greedy, yearning for this. He couldn’t help himself when you tugged on his heartstrings like that. He tried to fight it, this attraction to you; but the more he tried to keep his distance, the more he yearned for a glimpse of your attention. Your bright smile from the other side of the room–it should have been enough. And still…
“I hope you can forgive me.”
Was it really greed that made him cradle your face in his palms, gazing into your eyes before leaning in for a kiss? No… no. But he knows he can never let go of you now, not when he tasted the sweetness of your lips. Not when you kiss him back with such hunger, years of yearning unraveling in this very moment. Not when forgiveness lies on the tip of your tongue, asking to be devoured. All he can do is hope that when his time comes, you’ll let him pick up the pieces of your broken heart and that the light of your love will guide him somewhere south; back to the warmth the two of you feel in this very moment with his lips on yours.
❦ 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀
Higuruma has no doubt in his heart regarding his feelings for you. They’re clear as day to him. His heart leaps in his chest when you enter a room and your laughter washes away all of his exhaustion for a bit.
He studied you from afar for a long time; he can read all of your small gestures and expressions like a language only you and him know. The way your tongue pokes out between your lips when you’re in deep focus, reading over a file from a case you’re working on with him. Your fingertips picking up a tiny piece of lint from his suit before you enter the courtroom together and the small smile playing on your lips when he looks over his shoulder to catch what you’re doing. That one strand of hair that seems to be loose no matter how often you try to tuck it away, much to your annoyance and his adoration.
“I’d like to ask you out.”
His words are as clear as his intentions. Higuruma is a straightforward man, not brash but gentle in his own way. With him, you don’t have to wonder what's between you two, he’ll tell you what’s on his mind and he’ll expect the same from you. Never pushy, but longing for connection, for mutual understanding. He sees no point in hiding his feelings and he knows you’re clever, you’ve probably had them figured out anyway.
Higuruma and you have to face them daily, the abysses of the human mind. It’s easy to let your heart go cold over them, to lose a bit of your own humanity. And yet, when your eyes meet, it’s all forgotten. It’s like he can see the essence of your soul and you can see his and it’s all golden; so golden.
You don’t pull away when his fingers weave between yours one night when you leave the office together. He feels a sense of relief wash over him in this moment, not because he was afraid that you wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings, but because his world got a bit brighter in this moment, a bit warmer. He missed this for much longer than he’d admit.
To Higuruma, loving you comes easy. It feels as natural as breathing. It calms him, as if you’re the eye of a storm. And so he doesn’t even hesitate to say those words out loud, almost stating them like a matter of fact, and sealing them with a kiss. Guilty of loving you.
#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#nanami x reader#higuruma x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru#nanami kento#higuruma hiromi#gojo satoru x reader#nanami kento x reader#hiromi higuruma x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
she misses me | ino takuma
tags: mdni, nsfw drabble, fem reader, phone sex, smut, not pet play but he calls her “puppy,” not beta read, boyfriend!ino!
Nanami groaned into his whisky. He had a feeling that this was a bad idea six months ago. Ino was all bright eyed as he gushed about the pretty girl he’d met at the mall.
But Nanami was weary, and wondered if things would work out, even after Ino told you about his real job.
Ino sighed before he took a large gulp of his beer, “She’s just…worried I’m cheating on her,” he said, delicately.
“Don’t worry. We check out in the morning and then we’ll be back in Tokyo by noon. You told her we were here on a mission, right?”
“Yeah,” he wistfully gazed out to the town they were in. He was missing you, a lot. He’d been out in the countryside with Nanami for five days and had barely had the chance to text you. He hadn’t been away from you for this long before, but he was admittedly nervous by how much it was unsettling him. It was scary.
“I like girls who are a little clingy though, you know? She’s not even overbearing either,” his voice trailed away. “it’s just that I’ve not been able to text her much. So she misses me.”
“I suppose that’s normal then.”
He grinned, “Buut…she misses me!”
“Then, she’ll have to get used to it,” Nanami said gently. “That it won’t be like dating a non-sorcerer.”
“Oh she will, she’s a tough girl. Takes everything life throws at her.”
He hmphed at the thought, all triumphant like he could imagine your face right now. It was always so full of determination, and when you looked at him, affection that ran so deep it brought him to his knees. Nanami couldn’t deny that he was happy to see his junior so smitten, so he promptly changed the subject and they continued their evening.
But it’s when you send a photo of yourself, lying on your front with an adorable pout for the camera, that it casts his mind back to the last time you were together. Not only because you had that same look in your eye, but because you sent a message just afterward that said.
“Your little puppy misses you.”
His cock throbbed in his jeans.
The last time you were together he’d used those same exact words…
You had both been both so tired it was laughable, but still you clung to each other in the dark comfort of his bedroom.
His arms supported his head, enough that he could lean up with minimal effort to meet your lips. He whistled and watched with his eyes half-lidded, as you eagerly tugged down your panties and then his waistband. You sank yourself down onto him until your bodies pressed together, kissing all over his throat.
He groaned at the sight of you, “Dirty girl with dirty thoughts, huh? Here I thought you were too tired to fuck.”
You laughed into his neck, lifting your hips up and down. “Changed my mind.”
You were already so breathless, your pants sending shivers down his spine. So his hands shifted to your ass where he suddenly halted your movements by sinking his hands into your soft skin.
By the grip, he fucked you on his cock with minimal effort, using his hands to control your hips as he rutted his own into yours. “Fuck.”
He was making you moan so loudly you had to cover your mouth.
“You’re like a needy little puppy. So, fucking, precious. You need me, huh?”
“Yes, Takuma! You feel so good.”
He moaned between each thrust, drilling up into you until your noises synced together. “I love it when you’re like this,” he groaned. “I’ll give you everything.”
His heart raced as he carefully slipped into his hotel room, Nanami was downstairs luckily, still drinking, so he could be as loud as he wanted.
He yanked down his pants, and took his cock into his hand. He gave it a few careful pumps before he took out his cock and took to FaceTiming you.
Heat rushed through your body when you were met with the sight of his large hand wrapped around the fat shaft of his dick. “Hey cutie,” he hummed, groaning as he squeezed his tip and pre oozed out.
“Is this what you wanted to see from me, huh? That you got me all worked up on the job.”
You hummed a shy hello, pointing the camera between your legs to where you had the dildo he’d bought you slick and lodged inside. “Sort of.”
His voice was strained and raspy as it pulled through the speaker of your phone, “Good girl. I didn’t even need to ask. You’re feeling needy, huh?”
“I know you liked it when I send videos but…” You rubbed on your clit and moaned, your fingers visibly slick as you pulled them away and started to thrust in the toy. “Had to show you.”
He laughed, smug and relaxed before he joined you, thumbing the tip of his dick. He shuddered from the pleasure, imagining your mouth. “So? How was the exam, pretty girl? Did you do your best?“
Ino was never shy with his moans, not ever. Your eyelids fluttered at the sight and the sounds. Wishing you could be with him right now more than ever.
You whimpered to yourself, syncing your movements with his. “Of course I did. You helped me study after all.”
He lowered his voice, flipping the camera to his face where he pointed at his tongue with a wink. “Gonna eat that pussy as soon as I’m home, cutie. Be ready to drown me in it.”
You moaned, removing the toy to show him all the slick that was dripping from you. “Want you to fuck me, wish you were here,” you groaned. “So wet for you, Takumaa—“
“Imagine I am, baby. Put that deeper,” he cooed, jacking himself off tortuously slowly. “Imagine I’m inside.”
You flipped your camera to your face, pouting, “Aren’t you gonna finish with me?”
“Wouldn’t you rather I save my load for that sweet little pussy baby? Just you wait until I’m home.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smirk was full of mischief. “Is that right mister sorcerer?”
He grinned at the nickname, it wasn’t as if it was still as filled with disbelief. If anything it made him hard, your worlds were so separate but he didn’t care at all. He worshipped you.
“Oh yeah, I’m wrecking you as soon as I get home baby. I can’t just accept this slutty behaviour of yours, can I?”
#ino takuma#takuma ino#ino takuma x reader#ino takuma smut#he’s on the brain <3#I wanna be his non sorcerer gf so bad <3#he thinks about us so much <3#legend says he put her in a mating press and fucked her brains out the next morning <3
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Kento Comes Home Drunk
(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)
The reader manages her drunk, horny fiancé, Nanami Kento, like an absolute champ.
Link to the sequel here: Reader Comes Home Drunk
WARNINGS: 18+, soapy handjobs (F to M), mutual masturbation, cumshots, ethics of consent, Kento being a sloppy drunk
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
Hope he's having a good time, you mused to yourself, nursing a late cup of tea. The clock ticked well past midnight; you were the overnight on-call for Curse-related shenanigans, so whilst you had wanted to join Satoru, Shoko, Ino, Ijichi and Kento for drinks, you had, instead, waved Kento off, and settled in for a night with your phone on loud, and late-night game shows.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
"Hate to see you leave," you'd sighed at 6pm, bobbing upwards for a kiss. He had traded his work attire for a buttoned black shirt, and simple dark jeans. Effortlessly handsome. You buried your face in his chest, breathing his cologne, and gave him a playful shove on the chest, like trying to push a truck.
He stepped backwards, with a lopsided smile and his hand reached out to pinch your chin affectionately.
"But love to watch me go?" You winked at him. You were wearing his favourite outfit; your oldest pyjamas. He found something so sexy about you being comfy. You preened at him, cradling your first tea of the night.
"You know it." He chuckled, but became serious immediately after.
"Call me if you're called out overnight. I want to be around if anything...happens." You nodded, hand on heart.
"Good luck beating off other women with sticks. Hope you've practiced your comedy rejections."
Kento hummed sagely, "Bold of you to assume I'm a man? My doctor said I shouldn't until the smallpox has cleared up? Undskyld, jeg taler ikke Japansk?"
You laughed, gave him one final kiss, and waved him out of the door.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
Firmly lost in late-night TV and stifling a yawn, you noted the time; nearly 2am. As you smilingly hoped Kento was having fun, there was a firm tap at the door. You rose to answer it, and you paused to hear shuffles, bumps, hushed voices and fumbled keys. Rolling your eyes, you opened the door to a waft of whisky fumes dressed as your fiancé.
"Fiancé delivery service! Sorry for the late call ma'am, I tried to throw him over the gate but he was too heavy." Satoru heaved Shoko higher onto his back, and she groaned, face first in his shoulder. Ino and Ijichi swayed behind him, quietly huddled over Ino's phone and arguing over what food to order.
You smirked up at Kento, who was possibly more gorgeous while dishevelled, shirt half untucked, sleeves rolled, and stumbling into the hallway to kick his shoes off. He walked the confident walk of a drunk man back towards the door, possessively looping an arm around your waist and planting a sloppy kiss to your neck. Glaring at Satoru, he gripped the doorframe.
"I didn't need you to get me home, Gojo. I'm not drunk." Kento shuffled his whole face into your neck, gripping your pyjamas hard. You thanked Satoru, and sent him off to deliver the other drunkards home. Kento slammed the door hard, and backed you up against the wall while you laughed, slapping at his chest as he mumbled incoherent greetings against the side of your face.
"Behave yourself, buddy, you're hammered. Let's get you to bed." He groaned cheerfully, taking this as an invitation. His eyes met yours, unusually playful, and with a wink started to slowly unbutton his shirt. You rolled up a nearby newspaper and swatted his hands. Mouth watering at the sight of his abs, you sternly told yourself off.
"It is unethical to have sex with drunk people when you're sober. I don't know what you think you're getting tonight, but you should adjust your expectations." Bodily manhandling him, you turned him around while he grumbled at you, urging him towards the bathroom. He sat against the counter, bum accidentally setting off the tap in the sink, while you set the shower running. He stumbled and cursed behind you, trousers now wet and clinging to his muscled thighs. You heard him stripping while you waited for the water to heat up.
He thinks he's being sneaky, you thought to yourself as Kento pressed himself into your back, erection now full and visible against his underwear, and his hands slipped boldly under your pyjamas. While one hand reached up to cup your breast, the other snuck down to graze against the top of your mound. Involuntary shivers of pleasure ran down your spine, his wet mouth on your neck smelling of hot whisky and smoke.
"I have full capacity," Kento purred against your neck, tongue trailing up to your ear now, "and I'm so delighted my girl is still home, and I'd love nothing more than to make her the final taste on my tongue tonight." He stopped, musingly, his gaze at you still drunk and fluttering.
"Unless you don't want to," he pondered, taking his hands from your body. You pouted up at him, crossed arms and faux-angry, and nodded towards the shower.
"You smell like a bar. Behave yourself." Kento chuckled at you, cracking his neck and sighing, absent-mindedly palming his erection through his underwear. His cock sprang up as he finished undressing, pink-tipped and perfect, and you couldn't resist looking him up and down. He stepped into the shower, hot water cascading down his broad shoulders. Leaning one hand against the glass, he eyed you ruefully again.
"I'll manage myself then, shall I?" Still leaning on the glass, his eyes drifted shut as his other hand trailed down his body to grip his wet cock. "Please don't feel obliged to stay." You tried to appear unaffected, and moved to turn, but paused as you heard the slow wet strokes of him pumping himself under the running water. The drink lowered his guard, and he let out a long, slow moan of relief as he pleasured himself, now totally oblivious to your presence.
You felt heat pool between your legs, your arms covered in goosebumps and your nipples pebbling under the cool pyjama fabric. You considered your options.
Still stroking himself, and gradually increasing the pace, Kento was imagining you riding him on the sofa, like you had done only days before, his hands on your eager hips as you told him how deep you could feel him. He groaned to himself, desperate to feel that intense intimacy and pleasure again, enhanced by the alcohol running through his system.
Thoughts interrupted by a tap on the shower glass, he opened his eyes to you, leaning against the bathtub, one hand moving slow circles over your clit and another rolling your nipple between your fingers. Lower lip between your teeth, you blushed as you watched Kento pleasure himself.
Kento moaned unashamedly, swiping his thumb over his tip, cock twitching furiously in his hand.
"I'll return the favour, I promise," he begged you, eyes fully focused on where your hand moved steadily beneath your pyjamas, feeling his pulse quicken as you flushed and moaned, legs weakening against the tub, "I know what you're like when you come home drunk, you're a nightmare, saying no to you is a chore."
Lip still between your teeth you smiled at him, and, now feeling especially naughty, you moved to straddle the lip of the bathtub. Kento's jaw dropped as you began to ride it, sighing his name as if he wasn't there, now slipping your pyjama top down to release your aching breasts.
"Shit...please get in here before I lose my mind," and he stopped stroking himself, hand gripping the base of his cock as pre-cum trickled out, merging with the running water. His head was still spinning with the alcohol, but his senses were sharpened by your performance, so he watched you hungrily, determined that he'd cum inside you if he had any say in the matter.
You continued to hump the side of the bath, shuddering, eyes glinting with mischief.
"How can I trust that you know what you're asking?" You replied breathlessly, "It is unethical. I'd be taking advantage. I'd hate for you to regret me in the morning."
Kento grinned at you. "But watching me is fine? It seems worse somehow. Regret you," he scoffed. Humour aside, Kento shifted uncomfortably, grunting as his cock continued to throb in his hand. "Get in here," he wheedled, "and stop fucking the bathtub in front of me, and use me instead."
You acquiesced, resolve cracking. Stripping quickly, you slipped into the shower, pressing against him and immediately gripping his pulsing shaft. He stuttered and whined, hands pressed back against the glass, panting as you squeezed him.
"Alright, you win," you breathed against him, licking the flat of your tongue across his nipple, tasting the sweat and nightclub on his skin, "but I will absolutely remember this when I'm the one who's drunk and begging."
You spun Kento around again, and reached around his hips to grasp his cock just as he would as he pleasured himself. He continued to pant, whining and begging you for relief. You rubbed his tip with the flat of your palm, teasing, before starting to stroke from the head to the base of his cock in well-practiced motions.
Kento moaned and murmured sweet praise. His hands pressed against the glass, fingers flexing and unfolding as you fondled his bum lovingly, nipping his shoulder blades and sweeping your wet hand up and down his cock, gently twisting and squeezing at the head until he was gasping. You kept a steady pace, Kento occasionally thrusting forwards into your hand, calling you his good girl, his sweetest thing, being so good to him.
Head swimming with the alcohol, Kento gladly accepted the handjob, overwhelmed by the pleasure and steam of the shower. As he was about to turn to insist on bending you over against the shower wall, your second hand crept round to his throat and squeezed just hard enough for his moan to catch in his chest. Balls tightening and abdomen twitching, Kento gasped as you whispered into his ear; "be a good boy and cum in my hand".
Kento broke, wave after wave of pleasure rushing through him, strengthened by the drink, as thick spurts of cum shot into your hand and against the shower glass. He moaned your name, hips thrusting sloppily, one hand reaching round to squeeze your waist. Your pace slowed, squeezing gently as you pumped every last drop out of him.
Kento slumped against the glass, a dopey satisfied smile on his face, and hummed happily as he felt a soapy sponge start to clean his back. By the time you had gently scraped your nails through his hair, rinsing him of the last suds, he was barely awake in the steamy bathroom.
"Come on, big guy. Let's get you to bed." Kento frowned at you, looking faintly guilty.
"But I haven't done anything for you." You stroked his cheeks, full of affection.
"Trust me, that did plenty for me. I'll be storing that in my head for a long time."
Kento blushed, but allowed you to lead him to bed and dry his hair. He was face down in bed and asleep within seconds, his body relaxed, his tense muscles loose and softened.
You hesitated before checking the time; if you hadn't been called out by now, you probably wouldn't be, you convinced yourself. Pulling on one of Kento's shirts, you sat your phone by the bed and slipped under the sheets, tucking close to his warmth with one knee lifted over the small of his back.
"Still think I took advantage of you," you mumbled to Kento, before falling asleep to his warmth and deep, soft breaths, safe and happy in the dark.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
This best boy deserves a soapy handjob
And the sequel, Reader Comes Home Drunk, link here.
#jujustu kaisen#jjk#jjk nanami#kento nanami#kento nanami x y/n#nanami fluff#jjk fluff#kento nanami x you#nanami kento smut#nanami x#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jujutsu nanami#kento nanami smut#kento nanami x reader#nanami kento#nanami kento fluff#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#nanami smut#nanami x reader#nanami x y/n#nanami x you#pseudowho
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Care to Share a Drink?
Jaune Arc was walking back from the training halls tired from another grueling training regime. Since becoming a, Specialist, Jaune had taken several courses to broaden his expertise; both in functioning, and technical training.
It was good to widen his expertise as a, Specialist, and he may be taking in all this new information like a sponge, but a sponge can only absorb so much in before it starts to leak out.
Now, Jaune was tired. He needed to relax, and just destress himself for all the worries that weighed him down. He was having a day off tomorrow, maybe he could...
: Hey, Jaune!
Jaune: Hmm...?
Jaune turned around to see the ever smiling, Clover Ebi approaching him.
Jaune: Oh, hey, Clover. What's up?
Clover: Just wanted to ask if you wanted to go out for a drink?
Jaune: A drink?
Clover: Yeah, there's this bar I like to go to, I thought you would enjoy some male bounding. I would have invited you sooner, but we were so busy with everything. Besides, you look like you need someplace to relax for a bit.
Jaune: Oh, is anyone joining us?
Clover: Naww... I asked everyone else; Marrow, can't hold a drink for the life of him. Vine is a tea nut. Elm, likes those fruity drinks, the bar we're going to doesn't have those. Harriet said she was busy doing some paperwork with, Winter. And, Winter... Ya know.
Jaune: I know, Clover, I know.
Jaune: Sure... I wouldn't mind having a drink with you.
Clover: Alright then, let's go!
Jaune: Do they have any good bar food there? I'm starving.
~~~
Clover: So here we are, Jaune! The Squeaky Cog! Best bar in all of, Mantle!
Jaune: I thought we would be going to a bar in, Atlas, not one in, Mantle.
Clover: Nahh, there are plenty of decent bars in, Atlas. But, this place... it has a more homely feel to it, feels more lived in then the bars in, Atlas which feel sterile.
Jaune: Ahh, a by product of the whole, Colour Wars, eh?
Clover: Yeah, pretty much. Now come on, let's get a drink!
The pair walked over to the bar, and took a seat. Jaune grabbed the menu, and gave it a quick glance, finding a item he wouldn't mind eating. The barkeeper shortly came to them, and asked if they wanted anything.
Clover: I'll have a beer, and the chili fries.
Jaune: I'll have the... fish and chips, and a scotch on the rocks.
The bartender took their orders before walking away, as he left, Jaune busied himself with a bowl of pretzels.
Clover: A scotch on the rocks? I didn't take you for the type.
Jaune: A simple beer, thought you had more taste.
Clover: I tend to have whisky after a reward for a rough day, for this a simple beer will do.
Jaune: I'd take a vodka myself if I wanted something simple. But, it's been a while since I had a drink, so I'll take a scotch.
Jaune thanked the barkeeper when he brought them their drinks. He swirled his drink watching the ice cube move about his drink. He took a sip letting out a satisfying breath of air as he did.
Jaune: That's smooth... I was told by some of the locals while I was walking about, Mantle that Mantilian Scotch is really good; That's a hell of an understatement.
Clover: Really? Maybe I should try it, and maybe you can try a beer too.
Jaune: Actual piss has more flavour in it than that piss in a bottle.
Clover laughed at, Jaune's little jab, he looked at, Jaune a serious look crossing his face.
Clover: Uhh... listen, Jaune...
Jaune: Is this where you ask me questions about my relationship with, Winter, or are we going to talk about you, and Harriet instead?
Clover stopped in his tracks, looking dumbfounded at, Jaune who just gave him an inquisitive eyebrow in return.
Jaune: Well?
Clover closed his mouth before giving, Jaune an amazed, yet scared look.
Clover: Again, you notice way too much, and it's scary how much you do.
Jaune laughed as he spun the ice cup around in his drink.
Jaune: Relax, Clover. I've been expecting you to ask me about you two since I caught you making your way to the, Ever Light Hotel~!
Clover: Hey! Keep it quiet about... the hotel!
Jaune gave another light laugh before taking another sip of his drink.
Jaune: Okay, Clover; Let's play a little game then shall we?
Clover: What kind of game?
Jaune: I ask you a question about you, and Harriet. Then you ask me a question about me, and Winter. You game.
Clover: Okay. I'm game... You first.
Jaune: Oh good, because I've been wondering for weeks now; How the hell did you two get together?
Clover: Ahh... Well... before you joined us, the Specialist, we already had six members... But, we lost one, his name was, Tortuga.
Jaune: Tortuga... I remember hearing, Harriet saying that name... She said, 'I was good, but I wasn't anything compared to, Tortuga.' Is that why, Harriet hates me? Because, I'm some sort of replacement of this, Tortuga fellow?
Clover: Kinda. Harriet, and Tortuga always had this older brother, younger sister dynamic to them. So when, Tortuga died, Harriet lost her 'big brother.' She didn't take it well...
Jaune: I can understand that. I have seven older sisters... I can barely handle the thought of losing one of them...
Clover: Well as it's my job as team leader to help my teammates. So, I talked with her, consoled her, and was just there for her when she needed it. A shoulder to cry on, a face to scream at. A friend.
Clover: Then one day, the whole team went here to relax, and have a drink, and while the rest of the team slowly went home one after another, bunch of light weights the lot of them! Harriet, and I stayed there getting absolutely waisted... Then...
Jaune: You woke up in each others arms in an uncompromising position?
Clover: Uhh... ahh.. yeah... that's pretty much it...
Jaune laughed at, Clovers face as it was flushed red from embarrassment.
Clover: There was some awkwardness between the two of us. But, we managed to work it out, and we've been dating in secret for about two months now.
Jaune: Why in secret; is there something against, Specialist dating each other?
Clover: No, there isn't any rule. We just don't want the others to know, I mean if, Elm finds out about us, we'll never hear the end of it!
The pair shared a short laugh that ended when the bartender brought them their meals. The duo thanked the bartender before they went back to their conversation.
Clover: Okay, it's my turn... How the hell did you get together with, Winter freaking Schnee? I mean... I've know, Winter for years, but she never struck me as the type who would be interested in dating anyone. Much less you.
Jaune: Rude...
Jaune nonchalantly replied while enjoying the fries on his fish, and chips. He quite liked the mixed spices they were using.
Clover: I don't mean to be rude, It's just... you seem so... so simple.
Jaune: I guess that's what she likes about me.
Clover: You guess?
Jaune: I don't know, or really understand why they like me. I was just being myself with them; honest, open, being an absolute dork... Honestly, I haven't the faintest clue how those two fell for me. I've flirted with woman before, and I was absolute trash! Like what the fuck was I thinking?!
Clover: Everyone was an idiot when it comes to flirting.
Clover commented this as he was shoveling his chili froes into his mouth.
Jaune: That was a year ago...
Clover: Pfft?!
Clover soon developed into a small coughing fit, before grabbing his beer, and chugging it down.
Clover: (Cough, cough, cough!) Serious, you went to being a loser who couldn't flirt with a girl for the life of them, to having, Winter Schnee fawning all over you?!
Jaune: Yeah, I don't understand it either...
Jaune dipped his fish into the hollandaise sauce, marveling at how nice it tasted. He also flagged down the bartender over to get, Clover another beer.
Jaune: Honestly if feel like I'm just standing there, and some hot girl looks at me like: "Haha! What's a dork!"
Jaune: "I must have him for my own."
Clover: Seriously?
Jaune: It's happened at least four times, two in the past two weeks... Okay, my turn: What's up with, Harriet?
Clover: What do you mean?
Jaune: Harriet's been looking a little queasy lately... Did any... definitions of 'lucky' happen?
Clover: Huw...?!
Clover dropped his fork in shock at the implications at, Jaune's honest question.
Clover: ...?!
Jaune: Well?
Clover: No! N-N-Nothing like that at all! She's just sick from bad fish, I swear! We had it checked! She's not pregnant!
Jaune: Then you better keep using those condoms, or birth control. I don't think you two want that to happen... Yet?
Clover: Well... I wouldn't mind it happening eventually... but, there's too much going on right now...
Jaune: Well, regardless of what happens, I wish you two the best of luck! Not from just your semblance.
Jaune raised his drink in the air before, Clover raised his in the air for a salute. Jaune then finished his drink, asking the barkeeper for another.
Clover: My turn?
Jaune nodded as he finished the last remnants of his meal.
Clover: Okay... When I asked you about you, and Winter. You kept saying, 'they:' Why?
Jaune: Ahh... I'm not gonna lie to you, Clover... but, I'm stuck within a love triangle between two woman.
Clover: You're... in love triangle...?
Jaune: Yep.
Clover: Seriously?
Jaune: Yep!
Jaune gave, Clover a dead serious look as he answered him. Popping the, P to emphasize his point.
Clover: How...?!
Jaune: I don't understand how these things happen to me either.
Clover: Between who?
Jaune: Winter Schnee, and Robyn Hill...
Clover: Robyn Hill?! She's into you? Again, how?
Jaune: Not sure. My best bet is that I was honest with her. Robyn's semblance lets her decern truth from lies. I can only guess what she went through to have a semblance such as that. But, I think saving her from a psycho faunas certainly helped.
Clover: Being the literal white knight saving the damsel...? Yeah, I bet that helped.
Jaune: Now the two of them have given me tokens of affection, and I have no idea what to do...
Clover: The sash, and that falcon pin?
Jaune: Lucky guess.
The pair shared a laugh before continuing their stories.
Jaune: Now the worst part is, is that they both know the other likes me, and they've both staked their 'claims' on me. I'm literally stuck between two badass huntresses who could beat my ass, who are more than willing to fight each other tooth, and nail to get me! I have no idea how to navigate any of this!! And, worse of all: It's fucking hot that I have two beautiful, wonderful woman fighting over me!
Clover: Do you know which one you want to be with?
Jaune: I don't know... They're both among the greatest, and most beautiful people I've ever met! And, as much as I've enjoyed their rather, forceful kiss's. I want to be the one to steal their breath away with a kiss. But, I have no experience when it comes to the affairs of the heart, so I haven't got a damn clue on what to do... And, it's as you said, there is too much going on right now to worry about such things...
Clover: But, if you had to choose: Who would you pick?
Jaune shrugged his shoulders before looking at, Clover.
Jaune: Both?
Clover snorted as he smacked, Jaune on his shoulder before slapping a pile of credits on the bar top after finishing he second beer.
Clover: It's on me. Now come on, let's back to base.
Jaune finished his scotch before getting up, and following, Clover out of the bar.
Jaune: This was nice. Thanks for inviting me, Clover. We should do this again. Only this time, drinks are on me.
Clover: Looking forward to it.
#rwby#jaune arc#clover ebi#harriet bree#vine zeki#marrow amin#elm ederne#winter schnne#robyn hiil#jaune x winter#winter x jaune#robyn x jaune#jaune x robyn#rwby winterknight#rwby sherwood knight
172 notes
·
View notes
Text
The whisky neat and the strawberries sweet
“Then make me, my love,” Astarion answered, not missing a beat. “Come and get it,” he finished and slowly placed the last strawberry between his lips, grinning. His fangs were bared, contrasting against the deep red of the last piece of fruit.
MASTERLIST | AO3
Author's Note: Let's try again shall we? Tumblr ate this the first time. I listened to "Too Sweet" by Hozier too often and it caused this. What was only supposed to be a drabble turned into a whole thing... I hope you enjoy! With a wonderful gifted artwork by @nathaira-draws (please follow them!)
Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: explicit sexual content, porn with feelings, blood drinking, vaginal sex, creampie, foodplay, aftercare Wordcount: 4,7k Song: Too Sweet - Hozier
~~~
You didn't really know how you always ended up in positions like this one.
But by all the gods, you for sure didn't mind that you did.
Comfortable. You were comfortable in the way you sat on Astarion's lap, straddling him, clad in nothing but a sheer nightgown. The fabric huddled along your body, leaving very little to the imagination. From the clearly visible stiff peaks of your breasts it flowed down in soft lines to where it cascaded into a bunched up mess around your eagerly and widely spread legs.
Astarion in his usual camp outfit, albeit with his shirt possibly open wider than usual, was much more clothed still. But he surely seemed comfortable too.
And if his promising smirk and playfully raised eyebrow as he looked at you wasn't proof enough? Then maybe the way he was pleasantly, almost achingly hard and pressed directly against your heated, throbbing core between your legs was.
And yet you weren't even primarily engaging In anything overtly lewd, at least this far. The two of you were simply talking. Astarion was having a glass of neat whisky while you were indulging in a bowl of perfectly sweet strawberries.
You talked about every- and anything, whatever came to each of your minds. While Astarion kept sipping on the liquor out of his fancy crystal glass and you popped deliciously sweet fruit into your mouth.
Or, occasionally bucking your hips to get a little rise out of the other - a gasp, a groan, a telltale involuntary twitch - or a bottom lip caught on a fang with crimson eyes shortly rolling back into the skull and then a blissful smile.
The two of you played that little game. Trying to get the better of the other, all while trying to maintain a somewhat civil conversation.
As civil as any conversation could be when your slick cunt was pressed against your vampire’s dick. And you could barely keep yourself from rubbing yourself against him until you would either see stars explode before your eyes - or Astarion would remember he was a predator after all.
Either end was equally titillating in your eyes.
This little back and forth went on until you eventually proverbially poked the vampire a little too hard. You ground yourself against him as he was just answering a question you had asked him a moment ago, about what his favourite places around Baldur’s Gate were. The snap of your hips was so forceful, your by now obscenely slick core rubbed against Astarion’s hardened length in an almost painful way. You made yourself moan from the friction rolling through you, coiling in your stomach.
The vampire groaned loudly, almost a growl and mid-word, head falling back. He grabbed the wooden armrest with the hand not currently holding liquor filled crystal, until his knuckles showed white even through his already pale skin. It was almost a wonder the wood didn’t crack.
His length throbbed violently. Your clit eagerly echoed it.
You bit your lip as you focused on the feeling, a lewd, wishful sigh left you. The tension was oh so delicious.
“Are you trying to kill me?” Astarion almost hissed at you, a bit breathless. His head had snapped back, staring at you from deep under his drawn together brows. “Because if you are, you are not being very subtle about it, love.”
His tone was slightly angry and a little high-pitched. He was immediately trying to walk it off but you had obviously irked him. But he was merely teasing you. You saw the way the corners of his mouth twitched unwillingly as he took another swig of whisky. And if his attempts at deflections wouldn’t have told you the truth, something else you clearly felt yearning for more of that friction, would have surely done the trick.
You grinned at him with fiendish delight as Astarion tried to somewhat awkwardly rearrange himself in his seat. But with you pressing yourself against him he hadn’t really any room to wriggle.
His ruby eyes narrowed at you as your grin grew broader. Oh, how you enjoyed being on top of things for once - quite literally so.
“Also it is very rude to interrupt someone like thi-” Astarion tried to utter in an offended tone. But interrupted himself once more with a groan when you rolled your hips against him once more. Even more forceful than before.
Astarion’s moan almost became a whimper this time. Long slender fingers darted over and now gripped onto your naked thigh. Not pulling you closer - for now - but also definitely not pushing you off. Astarion’s cock helplessly and desperately jerked from the friction where it was nestled between your legs.
It was a piece of work to keep yourself from huffing and moaning as you were continuously trying to push Astarion into the deep end without being dragged under as well.
The vampire’s head lolled back again for a moment. Then it rolled back around, his expression a challenge now. The vampire licked over his lips lasciviously: eyes glittering like garnets and fangs shining like ivory as he observed you. Precious in any kind of way.
Playtime was over now. Time to face the consequences.
“You vicious little vixen,” Astarion whispered, fingers digging into your flesh until the twinge of it had you throw your head back this time and gasp. The way your back thereby arched drew your vampire’s attention to the way your breasts were now perfectly presented to him. To either behold them like a connoisseur would an impactful piece of art or to devour them like a doomed man would his last meal.
The pale elf’s equally pale eyebrow twitched - as did your clit still drawing pleasure from his fingertips almost clawing into your thigh. If only… a little more…
Quick flicks of the vampire’s skilled tongue over the sensitive buds at the crest of your breasts made either of them perk up even more. Until your nightgown was dangling off them even more, creating soft lines draping down, surely drawing the observer’s eye to them and your now heaving breasts, heavy from lust.
Your hands immediately went to cup Astarion’s head, cradling it as his tongue swirled around the tip of your tits, not even bothered by the thin fabric between you and him. The way your hips started moving came naturally. Just like how you bowed your back even more for your lover. You closed your eyes, easily getting lost in the sensation.
Then, suddenly, sharp teeth dug into your breast, lips shortly closing down around the hardened nipple.
“Oww,” you yelped and immediately resorted to slapping Astarion’s arm in response, pushing him away. Your head snapped back to stare at him.
The vampire just laughed haughtily as he withdrew again, leaning back. He licked just a drop of blood of his lips as he did so.
When you looked down your own body you saw twin pricks that had pierced through the translucent fabric. And beneath it a tiny trickle of blood running down your chest.
In your moment of inattentiveness Astarion had shifted slightly in his seat: now sitting with his legs spread even further, the bulge between them so painfully obvious and palpable for either of you. He was leaning back, arms draped over the backrest. In one hand he was still holding the whisky glass and idly swirling it around while holding it by its rim.
By default your legs were also spread even further now, making it hard to move. And suddenly you were the one feeling a little caught. Good for you, you had found quite the pleasure in being caught by the vampire time and again.
Although that certainly didn’t stop you from leaning forward as much as possible and catching the pale elf’s chin between your fingers, trying to stare him down.
“Don’t you know that it’s rude to bite someone without asking?”
Astarion pouted. “Can you really blame me for not being able to resist, darling? It was… low hanging fruit after all,” he mused with a grin.
Your eyes narrowed - considering if you should be insulted by that or not.
Astarion eyed the lonely drop of blood he left behind slowly rounding the curve of your boobs. He angled his head observing its journey. A single strand of white hair fell into the vampire’s face as he was entranced - by your tits and the trickle of your fine red alike.
Lost in thought and the view he lifted the crystal to his lips again. As if unconsciously trying to substitute for what he obviously craved much more than liquor right this moment.
The whisky would have to do.
But before he could take a sip, your fingers wrapped around his and wrung the glass out of them. Inattentiveness really made either of you prone to be taken advantage of. But not to either of your damage.
Before Astarion could protest you took a generous swig of his liquor and slightly shuddered as it burned down your throat. You licked your lips with a grin as you felt the burn leave behind a delicious warmth.
The pale elf’s mouth fell open slightly, eyebrows jumping up. His eyes darkened and twinkled at you as if asking you how you even dared and simultaneously promising you he’d get you back for that one - in that kind of way that would leave you desperately begging for more.
It made your lower body clench as another kind of heat washed through your body. Adding to the throbbing sensation between your legs, lashing it on.
And yet the most you had done was sit there.
Closing your eyes, you tried to regain just a fraction of composure. You had been doing so good in your little game of teasing. How did this godsdamned vampire hold that much power over you that he almost broke you with barely more than a glance?
Astarion in the meantime smiled in content as he took note of how you had to consciously concentrate to keep your wits about you. And also he had located the rest of your strawberries still sitting in the bowl on a small table next to the chair you were both wrapped up on.
Your head snapped back as you felt the vampire’s weight slightly shift below you. With his roguishly quick reflexes you only just saw how your lover had started chewing something. Then he was popping another strawberry into his mouth. And another-
“Hey,” you wailed at him as your eyes darted to the little bowl that was now almost yawningly empty. “Hey stop, that’s the last one!” you continued, grabbing for Astarion’s wrist with your free hand as he was about to devour the last piece of your sweet treat.
“Then make me, my love,” Astarion answered, not missing a beat. “Come and get it,” he finished and slowly placed the last strawberry between his lips, grinning. His fangs were bared, contrasting against the deep red of the last piece of fruit.
His hands wandered to either of your thighs, pushing into them and pulling you closer to him at the same time, spreading your legs even more for him. With your hand not holding the crystal glass you grabbed for his shoulder to try and keep your balance.
Lightning jolts shot through your body at the sight of your lover. Finding their target in between your legs. Making you involuntarily rub yourself against Astarion’s hard dick again, still comfortably pressed there. Trying to keep the electric energy going. Hoping to turn it into a constant current.
Heat was pooling everywhere in your body now at the promise Astarion’s eyes made you.
He didn’t need to be able to speak to lure you to him. Astarion leaned in a little closer, the delicate lines around his mouth deepening when his smile grew predatory. And you leaned to him, your cheeks and whole body flushed, keen to accept what he offered: the lamb willingly falling for the wolf.
But then an idea flashed through you. Acting quickly, so you wouldn’t second guess yourself, you took a small sip of whisky, keeping it in your mouth.
The vampire’s eyes sparked at you, immediately catching onto your plan. A small strained gasp worked its way around the strawberry still in between his teeth to get past his lips. The fangs dug into the flesh of the fruit ever so slightly at the strained sound. And at your core you felt his dick twitch once more.
You were both in for a treat.
With a chuckle and the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one holding power you leaned in to kiss your vampire. You slowly wrapped your mouth around the strawberry, lips brushing Astarion’s like a feather in passing - all while your gaze burned into his.
The fruit was crushed between your mouths in an instance. Its red, wet juice ran over both your chins, leaving trails that almost looked like freshly spilled blood. The flesh of the sweet treat was quickly torn and devoured between pointy fangs and more sharp teeth as your mouths worked impatiently to get around it. To get to each other - to the real treat.
The whisky had immediately spilled over your lips, down your chin. Only a few drops had actually made it to Astarion’s lips. But it was enough. The rest he could easily taste directly on your lips and tongue, in your mouth. His tongue made sure to get every last bit of it as it slipped between your lips.
The vampire tensed beneath you, his length somehow hardening more, as you melted into him while kissing him; moulding yourself to him as you slowly felt yourself get lost.
Tart sweetness mixed with smoky burning as did tongues and teeth. Remains of strawberry and whisky were already staining your faces and throats, even clothes.
One of Astarion’s hands moved from your legs to the nape of your neck as your mouths moved against each other. He pulled you closer, trying to taste more of you as you let it happen with a yearning moan.
His other hand moved to yours still clenching the crystal glass in its fingers and swiftly took it away, placing it down to free you from it. And when you were, your hands immediately grabbed the vampire’s face. You let your fingertips stroke along his pointy ears, wandering into his curls, deepening the kiss even more. Closing your eyes as Astarion’s rolled into the back of his head.
His other hand sneakily went to your ass and with a gentle push made you grind against him once more. And then again, until you took up the rhythm on your own. All while you kept kissing, now exchanging moans, gasps and other lewd sounds spilling from your lips. Passing them back and forth between you.
And when only traces of strawberry and whisky remained on your tongues, you broke away from each other. You were both panting and worked up to the point where it had become almost painful.
You stared into each other’s eyes that were void of anything playful now. The need in them was real.
Your hands cradled your lover’s face as his gaze was almost glassed over - from lust. Different from other times where his eyes had betrayed to you that he was a thousand planes of existence away.
But now he was here with you, almost violently so. The only thing Astarion was dreaming of was you and how your body seemed made to be squeezed against his. And the electricity between you was so strong you knew lightning would inevitably strike both of you.
The fruit had left Astarion messy, red stains smeared all around his chin and throat. You were used to the sight by now although it usually were less tame things than strawberry that left him in disarray. And as the yearning inside you reached a boiling point you felt the urgent desire to offer your vampire the real thing. Turning him into a whole mess in the process - in every kind of way possible.
You bowed down to him, seeing his eyes sharpen at you closing in. And nothing but a hair breadth away from his lips you stilled, reining in your boundless desire for Astarion.
“I need you, Astarion,” you whispered to him, your quivering lips brushing his as you spoke. Your breath caressed his face making his eyes lose focus as they rolled widly once more at your confession and your closeness alike. “And I want you.”
“Incidentally,” he murmured, voice raspy and promising, reminiscent of strawberries mixed with whisky, “I want you too, my heart.” His hands on your behind, fingers spread wide, squeezed hard. “And I need you even more.”
And so you let the reins slip from your hands. Your lips crushed with his again as four hands were busy to grab hold and get rid of what was still in the way.
Astarion fumbled with your already ruined nightgown. Trying to pull it up but getting distracted by how soft your skin felt along his fingertips or how your curves shifted lazily with the roll of your hips or how your fingers felt beneath the hem of his shirt.
After a few unsuccessful tries his already short tempered patience got the better of him. He just clawed at the damned fabric and tore it apart, tossed it away with a growl, breaking your passionate kiss shortly.
His short-circuit action shortly took your breath away as you felt the garment ripped off your body.
You stared at him, now fully bared before him. Crimson predator eyes took you in and couldn’t stay harsh at your softness. The moment drew out as he lovingly gazed upon you and you used it to let your hand flutter to the top of your breasts then along the curves of them, drawing a line with your fingertips. Astarion watched carefully, an almost unwilling gasp escaping him.
Then another roll of your hips, rubbing yourself against him with a moan. You threw your back into an arch, repeating the motion more vigorously, grinding yourself against Astarion’s still fully clothed but not less needy body. His pants were already a mess, you knew, caused by your slickness and his yearning cock alike.
Astarion kept eagerly staring at you as you worked yourself against him. His long fingers wandered over creamy soft thighs, wrapped almost fully around your delicate waist and then up your sides, sliding over your back as you threw yourself into them. You were melting for him while you felt the tension inside you grow. And your lover kept observing you, how your body moved like light waves hitting a sunbathed beach. His lips curled up further into a sinful grin as he felt you come closer to the peak: the shift of your hips becoming more ragged, your breaths heavy and raw.
Meanwhile your hands toyed with the hem of his already wide open shirt, tugging on the strings, wandering beneath the hem, caressing his chest as he had become almost a statue beneath you. But his stillness only betrayed that tension within him grew as well.
But then you wanted more. Without halting the movements of your body against his you urged him to draw his shirt over his head. And when he enthusiastically obliged you immediately thanked him by pressing your soft, warm tits against him.
Astarion couldn’t remain still anymore. Eyes glossed over again as he delighted in your body dragging against his naked, smooth skin now. Your hands were in his hair. And as if you weren’t already treating him enough you let your head loll back and dragged the vampire’s already parted lips to where they could immediately pick up the rhythm of your racing heart.
His fangs pressed cooly against your skin making you shudder from the sensation. Gasps filled the air. You felt Astarion’s lips press a kiss to your exposed throat. And a moment later the sharp pain of his fangs breaking your skin made left you breathless and made claw your hands into his curls.
He drank from you and you stilled. You needed to feel how with every swallow he took of you, his dick moved in unison.
And it made you both yearn to finally feel it in an even more intimate way.
Your fingers moved to unlace Astarion’s pants, making quick work of it. The sensation of his erection being freed and immediately being caressed by your deft hands made the vampire quiver. His focus was shortly broken and you felt some hot blood run down your throat. But who could blame him when you began stroking his aching cock like this. You saw how wetly his length was already glistening and felt how generous amounts of precum spread all over it beneath your hands. He really did need you.
Astarion groaned as he tried to pull himself together, licking up the spilled blood. But two different beasts were battling within him right this moment, each eager to get their fill. And both needed to be sated.
“Darling,” Astarion murmured against your throat, “you’re killing me for good.” His hands were on your ass now, squeezing it with spread fingers and urging you to move up on him.
You kept working his cock harder and you pressed yourself up on his lap slightly, obeying his silent plea.
“Good,” you replied, catching his eyes for a moment as his lips still remained lightly on your throat. “I hope it’s a pleasant way to go.”
And Astarion groaned, confirming it.
With your fingers still wrapped around his length you positioned him against your obscenely wet core. You moved your hips, making his head drag along your hot, slick folds, but not allowing him to enter you just yet.
You did it once, twice, feeling your clit and his cock in your hands throb each time. Then Astarion had enough of you teasing him. With his hands firmly holding onto your ass he pushed you down on him until he was buried inside of you to the hilt.
He began fucking you while you still tried to get used to the sensation.
Astarion started a relentless rhythm, aiding you riding him by dragging up your hips and letting them slam into him with his hands digging into your ass. All while he thrust up into you, hitting deep every single time. He praised you, whipping you on with words almost as sweet as strawberries. And the burning warmth inside you was even greater and more deliciously numbing than a sip of neat whisky.
Oh, this wouldn’t take long. The long, lascivious build-up had made sure of that.
You felt the waves grow higher while your moans grew increasingly unhinged. Already you were bracing yourself to be dragged under as you felt Astarion’s sweet nothings dissolve into senseless groans of pleasure.
But then suddenly, you felt Astarion’s hot mouth wrap around your hard nipple again - the one he had teased before. While your orgasm was already on the horizon and rushing towards you quickly, you felt another sting of pain as the vampire’s fangs broke the sensitive skin of your breast a second time.
In the meantime, a hand had wandered up your back and you felt how Astarion wrapped strands of your hair around his fingers before starting to tug on them.
He began eagerly sucking on your boob, striving to get more of the aphrodisiac that was your blood. Meanwhile his skilled tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, swirling around it.
He kept pulling on your hair, having you bow back while riding him and Astarion kept drinking from you.
The continuous jolts this sensation sent through your already helplessly writhing body pushed you even beyond what you had expected.
With Astarion’s mouth closed around your tit and his dick hitting you particularly hard and deep you dissipated fully in his hands. The vampire pushed you far further over the edge than you'd ever thought possible.
As if drifting out of your body for a while as your orgasm shook through you violently, your core clenched around the vampire buried as deep inside of you as anyone ever was.
With an obscenely wet sound he had to let go of your nipple as Astarion came just as forcefully, balls tightening before he spilled inside of you. Your bodies worked eagerly - clenching, jerking, giving, taking - to make the most out of it.
The room was filled with nothing but your ragged breaths as you both rode out the waves of your orgasm.
After, you collapsed on Astarion's lap who held you so carefully as if suddenly he felt you'd shatter under his touch. Your arms felt weak now as you wrapped them around your vampire, your legs started to tremble from the almost impossible tension they had endured before.
Your lover only carefully moved you to withdraw from you as he softened. He kept showering you with small kisses and soft reassuring mumbles while he gave you all the time you needed to safely come down from your high.
It took a long while until you were sure you were fully inside yourself again.
“I love you, Astarion,” was the sole thing you trusted your voice to utter because Astarion kept uttering sweet nothings into your ear. His hands were rubbing a comforting rhythm over your back, your chests pressed together, sticky from sweat. Your forehead was leaning on his shoulders, eyes closed.
The vampire softly laughed and patted your back: “I love you too, Tav.”
“Come on, darling, let’s get you cleaned up and into something warm,” he whispered after a few more heartbeats of comfortable, exhausted silence into your ear.
You lifted your head slowly from his shoulder, took one look at how blood was practically smeared all over Astarion’s face and only snorted. But the vampire took it only with another chuckle and began to rise with you in his arms.
He carefully sat you down on the nearby bed, quickly grabbed a cloth and warm water and cleaned you softly. Astarion took special care of where he’d bitten you, spending extra time cleaning the small bite wounds - pressing a kiss on them after.
Slowly you began talking again while Astarion took care of you and you regained your wits but felt exhaustion and blood loss catch up with you.
Astarion continued to carefully pamper you, washing every part of your body with the cloth, almost massaging you. Then quickly cleaning himself up while you were taken over by a big yawn. You were ready to sink back onto the bed and be wrapped up in your lover’s arms as you would slip into your dreams.
“You owe me a new nightgown, Astarion,” you uttered between yawns trying to stay upright - at least until your vampire was finished with the aftermath of your little evening adventure.
The vampire pointedly lifted an eyebrow at you: “But why wear a nightgown if you could just sleep naked?”
You had no power anymore to argue. So you used your remaining energy to stare angrily at your vampire until he stood up with a smirk and returned with his discarded shirt in hand.
“Alright, my dear, I’ll get you a new one,” he promised with a wink. “But for now this will have to do, I fear. I hope you can overlook it was previously owned by me, darling,” Astarion mused and handed you the shirt which you quickly threw over your head. It smelled of his usual scent: rosemary, bergamot - and whisky. Your eyes darted to where the crystal glass with the rest of Astarion’s drink had been forgotten and smiled. Then you drew a deep breath in, closing your eyes. With this you could do.
You clambered further onto the bed then, making yourself cosy as Astarion undressed to climb into bed with you
“You also owe me some strawberries,” you continued as you stretched out your arms towards your lover who you felt was taking too long to join you.
Astarion snorted as he climbed towards you and wrapped you into his arms.
“You’re awfully demanding, darling, you know that? What about my wasted drink?” he replied with a smirk in his voice as you had already closed your eyes, feeling his comforting presence wrapped around you.
“Hm yes, you can get yourself new whisky too,” you mumbled and were already drifting off to sleep.
“Alright then, my sweet,” Astarion answered as he heard your breath deepen already. “A nightgown, whisky, strawberries and whatever else your heart desires, my darling Tav.”
~~~ If you enjoyed this you can support me by reblogging this! You can also support me on Kofi (pinned post on my profile)! ~~~ Taglist (DM if you want to be added please): @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06 @marina-and-the-memes @somewhatclear @miss-rebel-without-applause
#astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x you#astarion x reader#astarion ancunin#bg3#astarion bg3#fanfiction#baldur's gate 3#bg3 spoilers#astarion x mc
564 notes
·
View notes